Dream fragment.
Something about our neighbors one house down watering plants outside our house... something about riding a large wooden wagon (or a Trojan Horse?) and a Bad Guy disabling one of the solid wood wheels. Which led to going into a kind of mall/government institution and deflecting a laser beam playing along a stairwell.
Yesterday I pushed words around on the screen and then switched to sending stories out. I feel like I'm in a fallow period or something; writing is like stumbling around in a dark room filled with bulky amoires that are crowded too closely together to open -- and in any case it's too dark to see what's inside.
Friday and the Weekend
Managed to work out Friday and Sunday. Did the usual elipitical and rowing machine upstairs for about a half hour, followed by the usual pec-fly, lat-pulldown, roman chair curl-ups, barbell curl thing. With assorted free-weights. The usual Classic Rock played.
Whenever I get a stretch of family-free home-life, I always think I'm going to be more productive than I turn out to be. On the minus side, my total words typed is down... On the plus side, I reviewed three short stories for stupid writer tricks and sent them out.
Monday
The family gets home today. Insert usual airlines delays here; they made it into PDX around 2:30 AM, but they sounded fairly rested when I just spoke with them during my usual parking lot blogging. At least the snow (potentially three inches) that NOAA was worried about didn't fall. I'm picking them up this afternoon at the train depot.
The house is functional, but still in writer mode. A table reset is required to move the kitchen nook table out of the living room, and take down the utility table currently in the kitchen nook. OK... and a pile or two of manuscripts and a computer need to be moved, too.
It's good to have them home.
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