Hee! Etc.
Stumpy believed that five was his special number.
He was born on May 5th, had five children and lived at 555 East 55th Street.
At the track on his 55th birthday, he was surprised to find a horse named Numero Cinco running in the fifth race. So five minutes before the race, he went to the fifth window and put down five thousand on Numero Cinco.
Sure enough, the horse finished fifth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yesterday, hereswith wrote me a Birthday ficlet, Flying True and it's wonderful -- J/E, prompt: storm. Really stunning work.
Turned out I had a wonderful birthday/Mother's Day, in spite of being rather depressed about the whole business last week. Too much was going on last week to make any elaborate plans. I need a social coordinator. It was all for the best, however, as Saturday morning I went to get a hair cut, and was inspired by the gorgeous weather to zoom over to Target for plants and seeds, to Trader Joe's for barbeque fixin's, and then called ladymora, dr_mrow, and weemonkey6 and asked them to come the next day and help me plant, clean off the patio furniture, and barbeque. They did, and were joined by shockwavesix and amy_leone as well. A great time was had by all, and Mom was ecstatic at getting the yard ready for summer. Now we just have to heat up the pool when it gets warm enough. weemonkey6 made me a cake, and it was delicious!
Finally finished another chapter and got it posted on Sunday. Note to self: do not post work until final editing is completed. I have no patience. Both hereswith and tessabeth found (minor) stuff that needed fixing--nothing too drastic, fortunately. I was working on the outline last night, and it appears there will actually be four more chapters and an epilogue. But we'll see how the writing goes. Chapter eight was over 5,000 words, which is, perhaps, a little long.
In less happy news, my mother's brother, Fran, now aged 97, is in the hospital, again. His step-daughter called from Portland on Tuesday, to tell me. We went to see him at St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica. He was resting fairly comfortably. They were supposed to do a test, yesterday, but postphoned it to today, so we'll go see him tonight. Spoke with the conservator yesterday, and he seems like a nice gentleman. We'll stick around here, this weekend, rather than going to Vegas.
That's all, for now.
He was born on May 5th, had five children and lived at 555 East 55th Street.
At the track on his 55th birthday, he was surprised to find a horse named Numero Cinco running in the fifth race. So five minutes before the race, he went to the fifth window and put down five thousand on Numero Cinco.
Sure enough, the horse finished fifth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yesterday, hereswith wrote me a Birthday ficlet, Flying True and it's wonderful -- J/E, prompt: storm. Really stunning work.
Turned out I had a wonderful birthday/Mother's Day, in spite of being rather depressed about the whole business last week. Too much was going on last week to make any elaborate plans. I need a social coordinator. It was all for the best, however, as Saturday morning I went to get a hair cut, and was inspired by the gorgeous weather to zoom over to Target for plants and seeds, to Trader Joe's for barbeque fixin's, and then called ladymora, dr_mrow, and weemonkey6 and asked them to come the next day and help me plant, clean off the patio furniture, and barbeque. They did, and were joined by shockwavesix and amy_leone as well. A great time was had by all, and Mom was ecstatic at getting the yard ready for summer. Now we just have to heat up the pool when it gets warm enough. weemonkey6 made me a cake, and it was delicious!
Finally finished another chapter and got it posted on Sunday. Note to self: do not post work until final editing is completed. I have no patience. Both hereswith and tessabeth found (minor) stuff that needed fixing--nothing too drastic, fortunately. I was working on the outline last night, and it appears there will actually be four more chapters and an epilogue. But we'll see how the writing goes. Chapter eight was over 5,000 words, which is, perhaps, a little long.
In less happy news, my mother's brother, Fran, now aged 97, is in the hospital, again. His step-daughter called from Portland on Tuesday, to tell me. We went to see him at St. John's Hospital in Santa Monica. He was resting fairly comfortably. They were supposed to do a test, yesterday, but postphoned it to today, so we'll go see him tonight. Spoke with the conservator yesterday, and he seems like a nice gentleman. We'll stick around here, this weekend, rather than going to Vegas.
That's all, for now.