thanate | the point is somewhere else

I've been having approach-avoidance conflicts with my computer; the internet is full of wonderful things, but they eat my day the moment I let them. My goals for June include writing 500 words per day and not spending any money on non-household stuff. (Plants are ok, as they're added to the house; also, the last plant sale until August is tomorrow, so after that I'm safer.) Today the only outgoing monies were normal month end/beginning stuff, and I wrote 509 words of the story I've been fidgeting over. (It began as a perfectly normal pennsic-inspired pseudo-medieval Romance-- and I mean the Marie de France kind-- and then turned into deep theological backstory for the world I've been writing novels in, which makes things more complicated. And then I'd left off with a bit about fathers, and there was this thing with my father, which is why I did the silly flash bit in between. But I can see most of where the end goes now, and am mainly still debating how much to put in about the horse.)

This morning I dug out the last of Fannie's forsythia (having done the first half by way of making a place by the pond to bury the turtle) and now I get to decide what I'm going to plant there-- ideally before tomorrow's plant sale. (ha.) I saw the noisy wren defend the birdhouse (and presumably his mate & eggs; I have seen both of them a time or two) from a marauding house sparrow, and a hummingbird came by the monarda several times. Clearly someone has a use for bizarre red alien flowers. Both birds have so far been camera-shy.

Tonight it is raining heavily, though with very little wind compared to what we usually get; odd, given that there were reportedly tornadoes not too far away from here this afternoon. Either way, we've actually gotten a fair quantity of rain already & should have another hour or two before the storm blows over; I have some hope that this will actually manage to refill the back rain barrel, as the 0.2" dribbles over the last month haven't done. Alternately, it may prove that something's gone wrong with the diverter, in which case I'll know to look into that.

Yes, yes, let's talk about the weather.

It seems the reviewer at Locus Magazine quite liked my drowning river story, which I would not have known without a heads-up from

waynsdeepkimchi; it had not occurred to me that there would be any point to doing name searches yet. Now, I shall endeavor to forget it again. Possibly a fake-virtual-support-group meeting with