Today's horoscope: You are a force of nature, a cyclone, a hurricane. But be judicious with your power. THAT'S NOT FUNNY.
It's getting scary out here. Not the weather--the natives. Once again, everyone is panicking, driving batshit crazy on the roads, buying up all the bread and batteries, and Mom had to wait in line 45 minutes at the grocery store. When my stepfather comes home in a couple of hours we're going to start moving the deck furniture under the deck (ARR! BATTEN DOWN THE HATCHES!), and I'm backing up all my book material in online storage (Yahoo Briefcase, Gmail, etc.). Also, there will be much laundering and hair-washing while we still have electricity (Sister Girl even went ahead and dyed her hair last night. Priorities, she has).
About Sister Girl's hair: Every now and then she gets a wild hair on (no pun intended) to change the color of her hair. Generally this involves highlights or a color a shade or two off her normal one, which is a light/medium brown I believe Madeleine L'Engle once called "hair-colored hair." (It's my color, too.) Well, this time she decided she wanted it darker, so she got a shade called "Sweet Cola," which purported to be a "medium-dark brown," but in actuality was more of a "light pitch black." Well, I take that back--it is still on the brown spectrum, and it's not that awful lightless black that looks completely fake next to most skin colors. It looks good. It's just not what she wanted.
Meanwhile--did I tell you about the tree in the front yard that was struck by lightning while I was in New Orleans? (Marcus is okay--he's in Austin, by the way, says one of our friends.) It was split right down the middle into thirds. One third fell over. The other two thirds are still there. I'm thisclose to going out there with an axe and chopping all the way down to the root so at least it'll go ahead and fall over and not be used against us like a giant projectile. Where are orcs when you need them?
Also: Dear UPS: STOP LEAVING PACKAGES BY THE BACK DOOR. WHY DO YOU DO THAT?
Speaking of orcs: Oh, dear. It's Fugagorn. Yikes. Well, at least I'll have something to play with while the power's out. Actually, I ought to be completely entertained--I have that Milton mini-paper, plenty to read, and a new story idea involving seven orphans, probably a bit after WWI, and the middle two boys need names. This is my favorite part of writing a story--the exploratory phase--and it's easy to do on and off while you're working on something else. I have plenty of paper, so as long as deck chairs don't come flying through the windows, I ought to be okay.