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Awakened again in the middle of the night. What's up with that?
###
Went downstairs to make coffee and discovered Icky (freshly arrived) had acquired four new chickens! Two half-grown chickens and two half-grown chicks.
He'd put the half-grown chickens in the coop with Black Chicken. We wandered out to check in on them. Black Chicken seems ecstatic! She will be Boss Chicken! And no, that's not entirely anthropomorphism: Chickens actually have very complex emotional & social lives.
Icky took this opportunity to interrogate me about the peach tree from which nearly all the peaches had fallen.
"Yeah, I baked a pie with them," I said. "Pity they don't stay on the tree to ripen more—"
Icky scowled. "What are you talking about? They're ripe! That's why they fall off the tree."
"You think? They taste good when they fall off the tree, but they're so small & pale. At the pick-your-own places, they stay on the tree till they're larger & more golden—"
"So, you have made up this complex theory to disguise the fact that you're just wrong—"
I stared at him, incredulous. "Iggy, I don't give a fuck. I am just talking to be polite and pleasant. My ego is not invested in this conversation. Believe whatever you want to believe. I truly do not care."
That shut him up.
###
The two half-grown chicks are currently hopping around downstairs as they are too young to be introduced into the coop. Black Chicken would lead her newly assembled merry band to peck them to death.
I personally would not want half-grown chicks, however adorable, running around through my house. Half-grown chicks shit, & chicken shit is icky. But Iggy is Icky, as we all know, so maybe it's a matter of kindred substances finding each other.
The kiskas are confined to quarters until the chicks find housing elsewhere.
####
Other than that, yesterday was kind of a wash.
The sentences aren't quite condensing.
Meaning I can kind of hear their rhythmn and intuit their layout on the printed page, but the individual words aren't coming.
I tell myself that this will all get resolved in the second draft, but I'm not entirely convinced.
Still. I've got to stick with the schedule I've developed for myself. Next week, I start tax classes, & that means I'll be juggling three balls in the air. Three balls is a lot.
###
Went downstairs to make coffee and discovered Icky (freshly arrived) had acquired four new chickens! Two half-grown chickens and two half-grown chicks.
He'd put the half-grown chickens in the coop with Black Chicken. We wandered out to check in on them. Black Chicken seems ecstatic! She will be Boss Chicken! And no, that's not entirely anthropomorphism: Chickens actually have very complex emotional & social lives.
Icky took this opportunity to interrogate me about the peach tree from which nearly all the peaches had fallen.
"Yeah, I baked a pie with them," I said. "Pity they don't stay on the tree to ripen more—"
Icky scowled. "What are you talking about? They're ripe! That's why they fall off the tree."
"You think? They taste good when they fall off the tree, but they're so small & pale. At the pick-your-own places, they stay on the tree till they're larger & more golden—"
"So, you have made up this complex theory to disguise the fact that you're just wrong—"
I stared at him, incredulous. "Iggy, I don't give a fuck. I am just talking to be polite and pleasant. My ego is not invested in this conversation. Believe whatever you want to believe. I truly do not care."
That shut him up.
###
The two half-grown chicks are currently hopping around downstairs as they are too young to be introduced into the coop. Black Chicken would lead her newly assembled merry band to peck them to death.
I personally would not want half-grown chicks, however adorable, running around through my house. Half-grown chicks shit, & chicken shit is icky. But Iggy is Icky, as we all know, so maybe it's a matter of kindred substances finding each other.
The kiskas are confined to quarters until the chicks find housing elsewhere.
####
Other than that, yesterday was kind of a wash.
The sentences aren't quite condensing.
Meaning I can kind of hear their rhythmn and intuit their layout on the printed page, but the individual words aren't coming.
I tell myself that this will all get resolved in the second draft, but I'm not entirely convinced.
Still. I've got to stick with the schedule I've developed for myself. Next week, I start tax classes, & that means I'll be juggling three balls in the air. Three balls is a lot.
