Rachael

Short notice is better than no notice, right? How did this one sneak up on me? I usually hear about things like this. But I just learned on the news that tonight is Earth Hour. From 8-9pm, lights out! Non-essential lights, that is. San Francisco is participating, but I have one quibble with it. I think ALL THOSE LIGHTS should go out. Yes. Cool. But they’re also turning out the lights on the Bay Bridge. I don’t actually consider those non-essential. What about low flying planes? What about a ship (say, the Cosco Busan)? Things hit our bridge during daylight. I vote that they leave THOSE lights on.

Also, Lala is out of town this weekend. Therefore, candlelight, while nice and all, loses some of its thrill. (However, our 2nd anniversary getaway to Hearst Castle starts on Monday — hooray!)

That is all.

Well, crap. I just wrote a post and lost it. Just as well; it wasn’t a very good post. But I did mention that I finished the almost-final draft of Love Spun. I’ll take one more pass through it, but it’s almost as good as I can get. And that will have to do. I’m crafting the query letter and synopsis right now. You know, I can sum the book up in one sentence for the blurb. I can do it in a paragraph for the query letter. But  trying to sum up the book in two to three pages for the synopsis might just kill me. It’s really, really hard.

I am too stupid to do any more work on it now. So I’ll just write to you.

I took my editor out to lunch the other day. Yes, me, myself, and I. All three of us had a celebratory meal on the water in Tiburon at Sam’s. I asked my editor what she wanted and she said STEAK. So I had a Niman Ranch steak sandwich with horseradish sauce and au jus and a Hefeweisen to wash it all down. I watched the sunlight sparkle on the bay. Watched the tourists take pictures. Watched the boats bob in the marina.

And I watched the cheekiest seagulls I’ve ever seen (and I went to a high school where we were regularly dive-bombed by the dirty birds). They attacked in flocks, six or seven at a time. They screamed down en masse and landed on any table at which the patrons had carelessly leaned back in their chairs. They stole as many french fries as possible before being beaten off by terrified customers. Children were crying all over the waterside patio. As soon as they’d pull it together, another attack would occur sending them into absolute fits. I felt sorry for their parents who would have to deal with the subsequent nightmares. My server gave me my lunch and told me to hover over it. I used my body as a french-fry shelter. And damn, it was worth it.

https://rachaelherron.com/well-crap-i-jus/

Why are Easters always like this? In my memory, I have lost every Easter when it rained or was foggy — I seem to think that every Easter morning in my life has dawned clear and sparkling with a heavy dew, cool, but with sun bright enough to warm. My favorite memory of Easter was a sunrise service on Mount Tagpochau when we lived on the island of Saipan. I was probably fourteen or so. It was island cold, probably around seventy degrees, and we were freezing. Then the sun rose over the sea (Philippine), and lit the ocean (Pacific). There was singing. That was always the best part of sunrise service: singing up the sun. (I do realize I’m kind of missing the Christian point.)

Today, though, is a secular Easter. I’ve already seen the Easter Bunny — Clara and I went for a run at Oyster Bay early this morning. We had the perfect Easter light, the Easter chill, the Easter dew, the Easter sunshine, and then a huge hare streaked out in front of us. Luckily I was running a bit uphill, so Clara, attached by leash to my waist pack, helped tow me up incline as she raced after it. We saw another one later. I love how they leap away, until they think they’re in a safe area and then turn their heads, looking at you from the side. He had no Cadbury Creme Eggs with him, but I considered that polite, since I AM ALLERGIC TO THEM NOW with the soy lecithin and all. We won’t discuss that.

But the run was gorgeous. And I didn’t die, even though I haven’t been running in over a month. That was a pleasant surprise.

Now, I’m jumping in the shower and then going to a brunch, which will be followed by a picnic. And there will be knitting. Hooray! I hope you are having a sunny time, too.

I just had five caramels, a quarter pint of ice cream, and a stick of cheese for dinner. I had three glasses of wine (but they’re small glasses, juice jars really, so it’s more like two regular glasses, swear to god. Work night and all). Lala, her brother Richard, and my sister Bethany are in the living room playing Heroscape (or as I like to say, Hero-scrape). They are big, big nerds. I love the sound of nerds in the distance. Richard just said, "Special attacks are never modified by cliffs." I have no idea what that means, but it sounds…. deliberate. And nerdy. They sit out there, preening with defensive tactics and three-hundred point armies. I mock, but gently. I really do think they’re cool. Plus, they just let me show off Mr. Roombinator. Talk about nerds.

I have to go to bed because I get up to go to work when it’s still illegal to buy alcohol. I will put in my earplugs and hear them laughing anyway. I love that, too.

"No, you can have robots AND zombies," Richard says. That can’t hurt.

Oh, the sound of the Roomba in the morning… It starts itself up at ten and vacuums for about an hour or so, getting the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen. And because those are the rooms the animals are in while we’re out, those are the worst hair collection rooms. Have I mentioned I love it? Even given the fact that we have three dogs and four cats, I have no idea why I’m so surprised every night when I clean it out to find SO MUCH CRAP. (The book says you can go three or four runs before cleaning it out. We can’t.)

Also, to give you fair warning, this is now my second Roomba. The first one had something go wrong the first week — kept telling me that I needed to clean the brushes, even when I just had. Frustrating. And I love it so much that I marched right down to Costco (I hate going to Costco), stood in line to return, then stood in another line to happily repurchase. This new one has treated me great, but I have warned it that should it act up, it will suffer the same fate. It is worth the time spent in the Costco line.

You may notice that I’ve blinged the blog. Please disregard the google ads low and to the right, but I have to admit I like the Amazon ad up there. I’ll keep it filled with books I’m loving, in case anyone is interested. I’m still neck-deep into memoirs, although I’m dabbling in reading fiction again.

Must get motivated! I have to do at least a little writing this weekend before I go back to work tomorrow — I had planned on taking great whacks at the rewrite, but yesterday I didn’t leave the house once. I had an unplanned pajama day, which was great except for the guilt. Which I fought, tooth and nail. I won, I think. But today I have Things To Do.

Oh! I forgot. I decided on Lush and Lacy, in stash red wool-something (love Classic Elite Lush, but it looses definition if you breathe on it). I have one sleeve done. Thanks for all the great suggestions!

And remember, I told you about the radio repair guy at work? The Jimmy Stewart guy with his sweater literally FULL of holes? Some big enough to put four fingers through?

Ees all fixed:

You can see the only obvious place is down at the bottom right of the picture — there just wasn’t enough yarn in the world to save that bit. I picked up stitches and diked them off as well as I could. Most of the repairs look more like this:

A casual observer wouldn’t notice, and a Knitter would think someone had helped the sweater out. Which would be true.

That is all. No more procrastinating. Off to Do Things. But I’ll have fun, too.

Don’t forget to wear a sweater tomorrow in honor of Mr. Rogers’ birthday!