Mar. 25th, 2003

Footnote

Mar. 25th, 2003 12:02 am
pameladean: (Default)
For reasons public and private, I mark this weekend with a white stone.

Pamela

Monday

Mar. 25th, 2003 12:02 am
pameladean: (Default)
My blood pressure medication is being overly effective again. Not so much as to cause me to be able to persuade them to lower my dosage, but enough to make me a bit woozy. A residual serenity from the weekend is probably contributory.

Dishes, laundry, cat walk, and, happily, my own walk with David. When he invites me to go for a walk unexpectedly I usually blether about how I'm not dressed and haven't eaten and can't get my mind around it yet, but he just said, "I didn't want to work anyway," got his hat, and came with me. We talked about legislation, Minicon, cats, and the spring.

I saw my first robins. Eric says he's been hearing them sing for some time, and David said those were not the first he'd seen. But they were my first ones.

At one point today I came downstairs. Naomi was in the second-floor stairway window, staring downwards. Ari was in the cat bed on the middle landing, looking up and out the window to where squirrels frolicked up and down the stucco of the house. Arwen was in the first-floor stairway window (this one overlooks the bird feeder I installed partly for kitty-TV purposes and partly to put a dent in the knotweed), her nose pressed to the screen and her ears squashed flat against it too. Happy spring cats.

Raphael and I had some amusing conversation and watched "Angel." Eric called and made me joyful.

I have really no excuse not to work on my book, so I shall do so.

Pamela

Words!

Mar. 25th, 2003 03:35 pm
pameladean: (Default)
Four hundred yesterday evening. Ha!

Had lunch with my mother, went for a walk, got groceries at the coop, only to realize when I proudly presented my antelope to Raphael that I had forgotten the tool for cracking the bones -- or, to get out of this disgustingly carnivorous metaphor, I'd got various proteins we were out of but forgetten to get the corresponding carbohydrates. She was very kindly about this.

I have been tearing through romance novels given and lent me by Daedale in the past, oh, Lord, year or so, probably in an effort to make myself forget about the war for an hour. Lucky me that this is even possible.

Chloe Cheshire is a grand writer. I am really not accustomed to such good style in a Regency; to such wit, affectionate depiction of foolery, subtlety, actual character depth. Whee.

I have to walk my cat and walk myself before it's time to start dinner.

Pamela

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