knittingknots (knittingknots) wrote,
knittingknots
knittingknots

  • Mood:

Life, light and lemonade..

Yesterday hubby had a small elective surgery.  It went well, and all is ok.  He's snoozing peacefully in the other room, and unlike the men in my side of the family, he is an excellent, easy patient to care for.

But I had to get up at 4:30 in the morning to get him to the hospital yesterday, and felt tired and withdrawn most of the day, and holed up on FF reading cheesy stories.  A lot of them were pretty good for young folks writing.  I found myself wishing more than once to see the same story written by someone with more life experience.

There was one brilliantly poignant AU about InuYasha as a kid with autism...the writer was young,  and to write something like that showed some excellent  talent. 

It's been rainy, and I feel tired and melancholy.  My oldest dog demanding to go out at 3 and then 4 (sometimes, all she wants to do is go out and sit in the dark, too) didn't help my mood today.  I've got 2/3rds of the next chapter of Evil written, a strong glimmer of what happens next in ATE done, but  I have to get through the moodswings.

So I went to the store and popped for some overly expensive lemon verbena scented dryer sheets out of the healthfood section of the store.  The lavender ones smelled even better, but lavender relaxes me too much, and I need to switch back into gear, not go the other way.

Maybe cause it's only a few days from my mom's birthday (and dad's, too - they were "birthday cousins", born on the same day).  She would have been 74.

Or maybe I just need some more coffee.

Lemonade.  Nothing to do with lemons in stories, but the desire to make a sour moment useful, making lemonade out of the lemons life sticks you with....I am grabbing for it.  I can feel spring in the air, but this minute I feel winter touched.  Maybe I'll just go read some crackfic....or go make something.
Tags: life
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  • 19 comments

  • Poem: Day of Portents

    Day of Portents I heard them flying, the cranes singing in their flight and so I looked up -- against a glowing sundog, they circled, then flew…

  • Poem - Winter Branches

    Bare branches that stand against a cold winter’s sky reveal more than hide as they reach many fingered arms up to a gray heaven. Stripped of…

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    (not IK) Wind from the mountain blowing coldly through my hair as I stand and watch the snow on the mountain peak fall leaves dancing in the air.…