Whoops, I guess three weeks have passed since I last poked my nose in here. I think as we age, time no longer travels linearly, but swoops and peaks and dips like a roller-coaster gone out of control. How is it that in the heart of Nano I was making regular updates, and now... not so much?
Holiday plans are taking most of my time, but I'm looking forward to the quiet days as we finish off the old year and usher in the new. No typewriters under the tree this year, but that's all right -- I've had a bountiful year. We're trying as much as possible to scale back a bit: focus less on the "stuff" and keep the focus on the kids (which is far more fun anyway.) Aside from the usual hiding and wrapping, my days have been filled with naps and trying to coax sodoku solutions out of my brain. In all: quiet.
So, how's the end of the world look from your location?
Friday, December 21, 2012
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Well Done, Rhino Wrimos
That whumping sound you heard was Wrimos collapsing in a heap after another thirty-day charge of the Typewriter Brigade. No matter what state your wordcount bar was in at the end of the month -- purple victory, blue almost-there, or barely-budged -- or even if you were cheering from the sidelines, it's quite a spectacle and a huge effort for all involved, attempting to squeeze an overlarge creative project into an already over-squoze life. (I'm still getting past the "invent new words" stage.) Like Scrooge, I wake up blinking in the sunlight -- or winter rains -- and marvel that the spirits of Nano got it all done in one month.
Personally, I'm glad to have a Saturday where I'm allowing myself to sleep in. I put the typing table and Beast back in their hibernating spots, and today, I get to shuffle around an end table, an electric piano, and several bins in storage as we attempt to jam an overlarge Christmas tree into our already over-squoze house. I've got a backlog of books to read, a story to review (hello, Mr. Speegle), and normal life to resume. And sometime in about four weeks or so, a mysterious box to open, jammed with the output of an over-caffeinated, under-rested Rhino on the keys.
Personally, I'm glad to have a Saturday where I'm allowing myself to sleep in. I put the typing table and Beast back in their hibernating spots, and today, I get to shuffle around an end table, an electric piano, and several bins in storage as we attempt to jam an overlarge Christmas tree into our already over-squoze house. I've got a backlog of books to read, a story to review (hello, Mr. Speegle), and normal life to resume. And sometime in about four weeks or so, a mysterious box to open, jammed with the output of an over-caffeinated, under-rested Rhino on the keys.
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