"It was imprudent of us, in the first place, to become authors. We could have become something regular, but we managed not to.
We were lucky, but we were also determined." Roy Blount Jr

"I don’t change the facts to enhance the drama. I think of it the other way round, the drama has got to fit the facts,
and it’s your job as a writer to find the shape in real life."
Hilary Mantel

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Snowy Sunday

I don't remember Mr. Weatherman telling us that it would snow all day. We did watch the forecast last night...though I admit I might have been preoccupied with the South Carolina Dems Primary outcome. Enough flakes had fallen by breakfast time to result in a couple/few inches. It's very dry snow, a broom could brush it away. Total accumulation is around 4 inches or more, and our trusty snowplow operator came by to clean the driveways.

The fresh coating has "prettied up" the landscape.

Once home from church, I continued my mandolin hymn project. This time I used the 1982 Hymnal which has much the same music as the other, older version, but also a few different pieces (700 hymns, plus service music.)

My fingers ache after another 2 & 1/2 to 3 hours of practice. I don't care. I can still type.

A pair of Scentimental rose trees that summered on the big deck are indoors for the winter. I intended for them to go into a guest bedroom with the Sweetheart Rose that winters there but after we returned from London I somehow never got round to moving the huge and heavy pots--I can't manage them on my own and I'm always forgetting to ask the Chap to help me. Now with longer days (!) there's even more sunlight in their very sunny present location. As a result, they're suddenly leafy and leggy and throwing out buds!

A moment ago I was checking out my blogroll and about the time I got to Jim I wound up with 37 pounds of canine in my lap.

I'm not sure whether Jewel wanted to be my co-blogger this afternoon, or whether she was trying to get my attention as suppertime drew near. Possibly she wanted a closer view of the photos of my great- and great-great grandmothers and the aromatherapy vials atop my hard drive.

Hard to know what a dog is thinking.

My last dream of the morning was about dogs. I dreamt we had our three, plus two other very nice black-and-white ones who preferred living in the fenced backyard all the time. About all I remember of the dream was going outside with Lola, Jewel and Ruth, and pleading with the other pair to come on inside.

When I told the Chap about it, he obviously thought it was a nightmare. I had to assure him of my certainty that it wasn't prophetic.

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