Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Monday, July 10, 2006

    Sun’s up, uh huh, looks okay


    My Backyard Is a Rainforest -- Marvin Hill


    To steal the opening lines from a Bruce Cockburn song. The sun’s out today, both literally and metaphorically, and that aint so bad now.

    Oh my darling dears. It’s been a non-stop-rain-love-fest over here in Hell’s Half Acre. I awoke yesterday to more of the same – outside the kitchen window, droplets of rain shook the leaves as they slipped off, pattering onto the greening-up ground below, each one a kiss from the sky promising more and more and more…

    I love it when it rains. It’s a landscape in motion.
    Let me know when you get sick of my obsession. I hate stepping over those spider-webbed lines I cannot see.
    Otherwise I’ll go on forever.
    But I’m just feeling good these days.

    Now – sunshine. Let’s talk about that. Today couldn’t have been better (well, yeah it could have, but that would’ve required breaking the laws of space and time, and I just didn’t have it in me today). The boyos have been playing TOGETHER and so well. I was going to say they’ve been playing like a couple of little cherubs, but, heh, cherubim really don’t play all that nicely.
    Don’t worry. Only some of you will get that joke. The rest…well, maybe later. Maybe sooner than later. Because…
    I had some writing time today! And we all know that is the only thing I love more than rain.
    Well. Maybe not the only thing.
    I’ve made an arrangement with a neighbor, Az (seriously, hee hee) to watch the boyos every Monday afternoon for two blessed hours. So I’m progressing on the book. Yay!
    I can’t tell you how much this relieves O. He’s sick sick sick of me wandering around and muttering things like, “Aw crap! I forgot to put God in the bathroom again!” And, “Maybe she runs her words together because she’s been carrying the feather around with her all these years?”
    It gets down on paper, or it comes out of my mouth. I have no choice. Either way, I can’t live with it anymore, either. I’ve got to get this thing DONE!

    And then there’s life in general. How strange it turns. Or stays the same. It looks like we’ll be keeping the bookstore after all.
    We have strange benefactors, my friends. I’ll get to them later.


    6 people left me a love letter:

    Blogger Julie wrote in a love letter...

    I'm so happy that you've been able to negotiate some time for your book! Good for you!

    10:38 PM, July 10, 2006  
    Anonymous O wrote in a love letter...

    Oh, I'm not sick of it, but as you know I often have other things on my mind. More distracted than anything....
    O

    10:49 PM, July 10, 2006  
    Blogger Nixxie wrote in a love letter...

    I am not sick of it either.

    It is great that you will have some time to write. Sometimes just a little alone time brings so much productivity.

    3:13 AM, July 11, 2006  
    Blogger Bud wrote in a love letter...

    It's fun trying to figure out what's between your lines. God in the bathroom? And the feather thing? Gotta love the possibilities there. Glad you have some time budgeted for this.

    4:47 AM, July 11, 2006  
    Anonymous Anonymous wrote in a love letter...

    I don't have time to write, the voices just make me crazy...

    must be the desert...

    denile - not just a river in Egypt...

    8:51 AM, July 11, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    Julie: Thanks. How's the term paper (and everything else) going?

    O: Yes you are!

    Nix: Thanks. I wrote like a madwoman. It was wonderful.

    Bud: Someday, I'll send you an autographed copy. Hold on, I have to take another hit off my hooka...

    JT(?): The desert will do that to you. Send those voices out into it on your last day there. Scapegoats.

    12:09 PM, July 11, 2006  

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