We're prepping for our big party of the year. Weirdly, I love it. Yes, it's hard work and all that, but stuff gets done. That's rare anymore. Lots of stuff gets started, and half done, and way too much doesn't get done at all. But done? That's like magic. Suddenly I can actually see up the road before I pull out of the back driveway. It's like being psychic. Well, maybe not really. But I don't have to guess if someone's coming now and pull into the wrong lane first before moving over into the proper lane, just in case. Our wyrd window is open again. (It's an opening among the akebia vines.) There's a wonderful shady place for lots of people to sit. On and on.
Of course that brings up the point that if we worked like this all the time, our place would be so full of awesome we might not be able to contain ourselves. We won't, though. I'm not sure many people do, or would want to. We wouldn't have traditions like spring cleaning if we did. Must be a human thing.
Anyway, we're almost ready. The ongoing disaster area is slightly less disastrous, and we're at a point that it's unlikely that our guests will be eaten by cougars or get lost in the blackberries. Party on!
Flog a BookBubber 75: Mick Bose - Writers, send your prologue/first chapter to FtQ for a “flogging” critique. Email as an attachment. Many of the folks who utilize BookBub are self-publishe...
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