Another blessed rainy day

Apparently, it rained a lot during the night, because it was wet and humid this morning, but blessedly cool. Don’t laugh—I put a shawl over my shoulders while I worked at my desk this morning. And I loved it. The kind of day you want to curl up with a good book—or with your computer.

I tried the routine thing again this morning. No laundry to fold and hang and put away, but it was still almost 10:30 before I settled down to the Work-in-Progress. Maybe I shaved a little off yesterday’s time, but not much.  I timed how long it takes to do my exercises at the grab bar—and I’m embarrassed to tell you what a small portion of my day it takes. No excuse for not doing them every day.

Once again, my radio program jinx proved true. I was scheduled to be on a Red River Radio (blog talk radio) show today from 5:00-7:00 p.m. Having goofed once before on time zones, I studied the directions carefully—clearly CDT was different from EDT. So at four I settled down at my computer to get a few odds and ends done before the show—only to discover an email from the host asking where I was. I hastily called in. It worked out okay—there was already one other guest author that I knew would be there plus two more I wasn’t expecting. I’m wondering if they weren’t call-in guests. One of them read a poignant piece about the death of a child, but I wasn’t sure if it was fiction or memoir. Moving, nonetheless. Coming late to the party, I never was sure if the one of the others was a poet or novelist and didn’t learn much about the author who I knew would be featured.

I did read a passage from The Color of Fear, and I got to talk a bit about my mysteries, so all was not lost. But I’m still embarrassed about being late.

Christian wasn’t home for supper tonight, so Jordan and I experimented with a dinner we thought he wouldn’t like. We didn’t much like it either. It was a crab/artichoke hearts/mayonnaise spread on bread, topped with tomato slices and sliced Monterrey Jack and broiled. I instantly knew several ways I’d improve it—toast the bread first was a no-brainer. But it was rich, without a real taste of crab, and not really worth the trouble. Not going in that cookbook I keep talking about.

I did write my thousand words for the day this morning and felt good about them. A sudden twist to the story jumped into my mind last night. I sometimes fear that the novel will be all one sudden twist after another. I shall read carefully to make sure those twists all hold together and are headed someplace.

Now time to read someone else’s writing.