life with the crapweasle

The neighbor's have the prettiest gladioli. Did you know they smell nice, too? The glads, not the neighbors. Well, actually, I shouldn't say that because I don't really know. They may perspire attar of roses. We're just not that close. But they do grow nice posies.

A friend of mine joined Greenpeace back in her youth, and after chaining herself to a harpoon gun on a Japanese whaler, was arrested for piracy. She's going to speak at her Unitarian Church on "A pirate's life for me," and the possibility of godly civil disobedience. So I'm loaning her a hat. (sings) Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!

Speaking of hats, I wore a red hat all through the writer's conference, and was the only woman there wearing a hat. Makes me easy to remember, and certainly takes care of the worry about a bad hair day. Also, made those glaring overhead fluorescent tubes a lot less annoying. I have a lot of red, white and navy seperates, which makes it easy to get dressed in the morning. Everything goes together and looks businesslike. Then there are the pink and purple clothes. More - Bohemian shall we say.

I have been getting out the submissions and query letters. Next, time to make a GREAT website. Meanwhile, I left the beaded top with Teresa who dyed the yarn. She's going to use it as a sample of what you can do with her goods. And she's also pleased with the cotton babyblanket I'm turning out for her. Photo tomorrow.

We have an apple tree outside the kitchen window with limbs overhanging the back patio roof. Evidently the bees were busy amongst the blossoms this spring, because we are getting a lot of apple drop. When there are two apples growing on one twig, gradually, slowly, one will push the other off. Thunk! Exciting enough when they hit the ground, but when they fall on the aluminum patio roofing, it's more a case of CRASH! Rumble, rumble, rumble,Thunk! Makes the cats nervous. They all want to sleep with us, and then they spend the night twitching and muttering. I wonder what they're dreaming. Are they fighting? Hunting? Dancing the rhumba with Carmen Miranda? They'll never tell. Cats never do.