Anyone remember those old Tim Conway sketches where he was the old man and moved reeealllly reeealllly slowly?  That is my f-list these days.  I blame summer.  And FaceBook.  Just for the record, I hate FaceBook, except for Farm Town.  But everyone is there.  So when I'm sitting down to write a post I think, "Why?  They're almost all on FaceBook now."

Well for some strange reason I love LJ.  I wrote here when no one was reading me, and I'll keep writing as the bulldozers come in and level the place.  Just probably not as regularly as once upon a time.

I am sad for once upon a time, which is weird because apart from doghealth and the shifting cybertonic plates, now is better.  And so, of a Thankful Thursday, here are some reasons why Now is the best time, even better than Once Upon a Time.

Mr Moth, who has been present for some OUAT but not nearly all of it.

Zor, too.

Cute grandkids.

My novel is almost finished and doesn't suck.  I wouldn't believe this right now, but (among others) onegrapeshy and hareatic both told me so, and they don't have good taste and aren't known foro blowing smoke so I kinda have to believe them.

Dmitri and his unrelenting cuteness.

Big Blue Berta, who in spite of her quirks takes me wherever I want to go.

Sam-e.

No ovaries exploding at present.

No stalkers.

Both parents living and competent.

House!  No more worrying that something will happen to the elderly landlady and we'll have to do a panic move.

I met my middle daughter's significant other and like him.  *is amazed*  He said he would do something, and then did it.  When he said he would do it, even.  *is more amazed*  *is sad that this is so amazing*

MD's SO took the pool!  The pool is gone!  Yay!

I gave my old computer--Mother--to my brother and he loves it.  He is not trying to go online, just wanted something to play middle-aged hand-me-down games on, and she is perfect for that.

Antibiotics.  Because times when these were not yet invented were pretty hard on people.

Laptop.

Meijer, for cherries on sale at <$2 a pound.  And for cherry pits, which mean nobody else wants any.  *hoardes*

Geese.  Because yesterday we were driving past the hoity toity golf course and there were these guys...in their ugly pants that look like tuffskins for old dudes...they were trying to golf.  Except they were surrounded by geese.  Zillions of geese.  And then this one guy broke free of the group and started running, I dunno to where.  And some of the geese took after him.  I lol'ed and lol'ed.  Good thing Mr Moth was driving!  Thanks for the laugh, geese!

I am trying to finish my novel.  I figure I have about fifteen scenes to go.  Fourteen scenes (eleven chapters) a denouement and a surprise epilogue.  Yet, I can't seem to make myself look at it.  When I do, I can't breathe.

Well, I can't breathe through my nose anway, but that's pollen.

Anyhow, I have finished stories before.  I have finished this one before, in draft.  But this time it would be kinda, well...finished.   And it's well...pretty good.  There'd be no reason not to send it into the world and get some marketing feedback.

There's a reasonable chance someone might want it.

AGH.

Fifteen scenes--fourteen scenes (eleven chapters) a denouement and a surprise epilogue--are all that stand between me and the unknown.

Did I mention AGH?

Yesterday after making the remark about the rolling pin outlet store I remembered that I have been curious about the Jeffersonville Outlet Mall for several years now.  Not curious enough to go check it out, but curious.  (As a Facebook friend commented,  I do not have the shopping gene.  Retail therapy makes me long for analysis.)

I rousted the Zor and we went.  (Mr Moth went to see his other girl play softball.)  My overall impression of the Outlet Mall is a big fat MEH.  But we found a nice NFL store, handy considering I hadn't got Mr Moth anything yet for the non-holiday--which I might have cared more about except my birthday cake has still not arrived.  However, he did all right (with us.)  We got him a window decal, an antenna head, and a license plate frame.  YAY for sports crap designed to go on his vehicle and not in our house!  But also a mousepad (amusingly for Father the PC, where we've been using the one that came with Mother the PC seven years ago) and a plush throw and a pennant for the lair.

It was blinking hot there, and we were glad to stop for shakes and come home to seek cover.  I have discovered that stanky weather is easier to take if you can get out of it sometimes...thank you A/C Dude.  All those years of working in extra heated environments--non air-conditioned pizzerias and laundromats, for example--has not improved my attitude toward natural saunas.

Altogether I put 87 miles on Big Blue Berta.  50 there, following Google Maps' directions, and the rest coming back on instinct.  (By which I do not mean the nav on my phone.)  By the time I drive it to the shop that'll make over 90.  If Brian can't track an oil leak with that many miles on the clock?  Yeah, I'm not going to worry about any big gushing leak like that.

So we got home and about an hour before bed found out Oliver had also left Mr Moth a Father's Day gift.  It was one of those FD gifts I just love because it mostly makes work for me. O had puked on Mr Moth's comforter, so I had to wash that right away.  And when it was in the dryer Mr Moth announced that he had no clean shirts for today, which honestly made me want to puke on his comforter myself, except Zor had borrowed a shirt from me to go out in, and I did laundry last week just like always, so what are these people doing with/to their clothes?

I have a theory, and I think I'm gonna start making them eat nekkid...

So I waited for Mr Moth to take his shower and then threw a load of clothes in the washer, and by the time they went into the dryer I was nodding off.

Now I need to hurry and get cleaned up before my, erm, *date* with Brian the mechanic.

But first I bring you the world, aka, a reflection on glare.

Last night while I should have been doing other things, I finished The Road.  My thoughts on the book are here.  Well, some of them are.

Now I am staring at Google Maps tying to think of somewhere to go to rack up some miles on the van so Brian can track that oil leak.  But it can't be anywhere "good" because Mr Moth has a social obligation and can't go with me.  Sigh.

So far I thought of four places.  In the first place, no one is home.  The second place is out of business.  The third and fourth are hidden behind the Orange Veil of construction barrels and I'm pretty sure I'm not up to that kind of stress of a Sunday.

I smell Mr Moth burning eggs onto a frying pan.  Maybe I should drive to the rolling pin outlet store, because I hear a good rolling pin helps prevent burnt-on eggs.

I am late with my morning pages today because we went sailing garages like usual on Mr Moth's day off.  It was HOT.  Horribly horribly hot.  I pinked my right arm from the sleeve down--a shotgun tan?--and he crisped the heck out of his left side.  And we didn't find much.  Except for this totally awesome gorgeous gold embossed old world style map of the world.  Like this.  But gold.  And embossed.  OMG I love this thing.  And of course the pic I took of it didn't come out.

Our baldy walls days are behind us anyway.  All this time I have wondered what I could put up that would suit all of us, and when we walked by this picture, we said in chorus, "I really like that."

I used to buy books based on whether they had maps in them.  I lovelovelove maps, and this one is so pretty.  MAPS!  Woot!  So we bought the world for ten dollars.

At another sale I also found a less usual book that accidentally got into the goodwill or freecycle batches last year and that I assumed I would never find again.  Not a big deal, but a nice deal, because naturally as soon as I realized it was gone I developed a burning yen to read it again.

When we'd finished touring the county, we stopped at Mom's, who gave me a terra cotta strawberry pot, aka hen-and-chick condo, for the plants I bought last round.  It used to belong to my great grandmother.  Nothing like heirloom breakables to crank up the pressure.  And my brother scooped us up some more wildcat nip.  You may recall that last year's attempt to grow the stuff ended unceremoniously at the end of Mr Moth's string trimmer.

Meanwhile...  I have ribs in the oven, and I just wrapped some taters to stick in there to keep them company.  We'll see if I can convince this pack of carnivores to partake of some vegetables too with their late supper.  I had better go make with the barbecue sauce and pet the doggy girl who, by the sound, is getting lonely in the living room.

What the hell is wrong with me?  I woke up approximately 23 times last night because I could not remember the name of the annoying narrator in Sophie's Choice.  It was that kind of urgent too, like if you've ever woken up a whole slew of times because you thought you were late for a job interview...

Did I ever get up and go online to look this up?  No, because I was so tired getting out of bed and booting up and logging on...it all just seemed far too hard, and surely I wasn't going to wake up *again* over something so ridiculous!

Au contraire.

Stingo, I hate you even more now than before, you horny turd.

The Sleep Conspiracy continues...

Advice: When deciding which room of your new home to designate as your home office, wait until it gets WARM out. Then you will know which of your neighbors are harboring a troop of howler monkeys. Fah.

I hear the cat in the bedroom crying and crying and crying. Pitiful. What the hell is his problem?



Dog: Yeah, Cat. Remember all the times you sat on the back porch guarding the door so I couldn't scratch to come in? Or sat on the stairs so I couldn't go up to bed? Or policed the water dish until the monkeys finally figured it out and gave me TWO water dishes? Or climbed over the back of the sofa and slashed at me with your claws as I lay on the floor?

Haha. Be trapped, Too Lazy to Jump Over Me Cat. Be very trapped.

Cat (in a Jerry Lewis whine): MONKEEEEYYYYYY! THE DOG IS BEING A BITCH AGAAAAAAIN! MAKE IT MOOOOVE!

Confession: I did vaguely wonder why Hannah had decided to take a nap in the bedroom doorway. Now I know. And I must say, this is the most tickled I've been in months.

While uploading that photo, I remembered this one to make a nice grainy phone-photo non-sequitur. My nemesis:



Punctuation giveway: Since I seem to have an abundance, I'm freecycling some colons in case anyone wants any. Just help yourself! (:::::::::::)