I suppose the post-a-day thing hasn’t quite materialized. Ah well, perhaps if I make no such challenges to myself it will happen spontaneously. For one who likes writing, I sure haven’t done much lately. I have to trick my own brain quite often, since my rebellious nature often puts me at odds with my intentions.

I love North Carolina. My first winter here has passed and I simply am astounded at how much of my life wasn’t spent shoveling, digging out cars, bundling up, salting sidewalks, and waiting for windshields to defrost. In fact, I even got to ride the donorcycle in the wintriest of months. Heh. I’m still a bit tickled about all that, after a lifetime of dealing with cold and snow for about half of each year.

drawing.jpgLast night I got to deal with the much-needed rain in a big way. I’m building a large china cabinet for a client, and don’t have a garage/ basement/ workshop, so I’m working on the back porch under an EZ-Up instant shelter. These things are really cool, and great for brutal sun or a pop-up shower – but it’s not as watertight as a building. I had to batten down several hatches and move things around to protect $1000 worth of lumber from the elements. Yay for waterproof boots!
Lately I’ve been having very vivid dreams. In color. Usually, I wake up knowing I’ve been dreaming but don’t have the foggiest clue what they were about. However, most nights have featured elaborate scenes and a large cast of characters engaged in some gargantuan task. It’s usually up to me to save the day, whether by swimming through the green waters of an ocean channel to rescue the passengers on a wrecked helicopter, or by getting the locomotive-sized RV out of the Wal Mart parking lot before the murderous mob arrives, or baking a cake or knitting neckwarmers for fish. Don’t ask ME to interpret ’em, I just live here.

The other night I dreamt I was carrying a bushel basket of large red apples, the kind that make your mouth water just looking at ’em. They spilled out of the basket and hit the wooden floor with a series of crisp, wet thuds. The sound woke me up, when I was mortified to discover it was it was gastric activity (Stephen King calls ’em bedfarts). I’m so glad nobody found out about that. How embarrassing.

The often-great weather around here has me missing one of my favorite backyard accessories – a Weber charcoal grill. I’m thinking the next payday will remedy that. Now, just need to have a garden party in order to justify burning a bag of charcoal and cooking huge quantities of meat. Anyone coming over?

Well, off to cut more lumber and enjoy the sunshine. Perhaps paint another bedroom and change a tire too. No shortage of poop to do!