11 June 2004

It's thundering pretty nearby. I like that. A lot. There's a tree outside my office window that shelters the window from all but the very worst combinations of intensity and direction of rain -- in fact, most of the backyard is pretty sheltered -- so I can leave the window open and listen to the rain without getting the printer wet. So I do. It's good.

Wendy stole my title for this journal entry. (Is it veryvery sad that my brain immediately leaped to "Charlie stole the handle" and started singing "Wendy stole my title, 'bout the brain that won't stop going, no way to slow down"? I think it is. My father warped my sensitive young mind, oh woe and alack.) "Brain meltdown imminent." Yes. Sometimes these days I have that calm perky female computer voice in my head saying, "Core overload. Core overload." Etc. You know the one.

Wild rice bread and apricot preserves: good stuff. Just so you know.

City of Diamond is taking forever to get anywhere. It switches from limited-third to first and back again. This annoys me. And yet -- I'm enjoying it anyway, and I'm not sure why. It's a good thing, I guess, but now I'm trying to figure it out, and I should probably just let it go and enjoy the book and devote my brain power somewhere else.

I've finally gotten into the rhythm of my contract work. Or maybe I'm brain-fried enough not to notice that my subjects and verbs no longer have anything to do with each other. I don't know; I feel sure that if I've written nonsense, the editors will certainly let me know about it. I'm no longer really able to tell. I'm going to try to let my brain recharge after I've finished these. Lots of reading and maybe some walks. Minneapolis is good for walks. And for books, I think.

This weekend is very easy to pack for in apparel: clothes for the two travel days, one set of which will be on my back, plus my purple dress. I'll probably choose my travel clothes so that I don't have to pack any additional shoes. Leaving the question of what books to bring, and how many. The comfort reading worked well on my last trip, and I have the sequels to those books available to me. But I'm not sure that's the right thing. I don't want to associate them too strongly with sad occasions, is the thing.

When my Gran died, I had a whole stack of Vonnegut to read. That was bad, bad, bad. Ever since then I've been skittish about near-funeral reading. Suggestions or recommendations for good reads/rereads are welcome (discussion over at the lj).

I think I've already said this, but I want to thank all of you who have written to me to express sympathy. It's much appreciated. I know you don't know the right thing to say. Nobody knows the right thing to say. There is no right thing to say. Sometimes it's important to try, though. This is one of those times. Thank you.