I’m working on not melting like the chocolate on my bedside table and figuring out how I REALLY feel about the first episode of Loki and considering new crochet projects even though I have thirty or forty started. Mostly I’m sweating. It’s a little better now, it’s down to 80F. Of course, it’s also midnight here . . .
I realize that some of you are dealing with 110 degree heat, so my paltry 91 degrees will get no sympathy, but it’s basically too hot to type, so the Loki posts will start Friday because after 94 on Wednesday, we’ll get storms that will knock things back into the seventies, thank God. In the meantime, it’s not enough that Emily has stopped trying to snuggle up to me to sleep–it’s adorable but what I need right now is not a furry radiator–and has chosen the top of a cabinet which is much cooler. Go, Emily. What I need is a refrigerator cat.
I’ve always thought the enemies-to-lovers romance was a kind of bias-to-understanding story, close-mindedness to open, if you will. Which brings me to my bedroom.
A couple of months ago, I adopted a stray cat with only three paws but a lot of attitude (pretty sure she’s a Maine Coon). She was scrawny and wary and she had no idea what a litter box was for, but she needed a home and I had one for her, if I could just convince her to stay (and that the litter box wasn’t her bed).
After trapping her inside (she wasn’t amused) I won her over with expensive cat food and fresh water and a heated cat bed and she had the back bedroom all to herself so life was good. Then Krissie came to visit and the dogs and I had to get out of her bedroom and back into the summer bedroom with Emily. There were a few tense moments, but that’s all behind us now, probably because the dogs are very mellow (well, Mona is mellow) and Emily after months of good eating is now bigger than Mona and roughly the size of Veronica. And now when I sit in bed and look out at the tree tops of my back yard I have three roughly fifteen-pound pets snoring in harmony.
Ever have one of those days? I had one of those weeks, which included no internet. I could go on about how most of real life is THWARTING me, but I won’t. I’ll just say that I didn’t read much this week; that sums it up for me. A week without reading is like a week without air. Or sleep. Or chocolate.
What did you read this week?
ETA: I’M SORRY I MISSED WORKING WEDNESDAY. AND WAS LATE ON GOOD BOOK THURSDAY. I SUCK AS A BLOGGER. And at a few other things, but why dwell on those?
This music video makes me happy whenever I play it, so I showed it to Krissie, and it made her happy, too. Here’s lookin’ at you, Argh.
What made you happy this week?
(Note: Huge apologies for getting so far behind on the comments that there were fourteen pending by the time I looked. Krissie and I kept talking, which is another thing that made me giddy with joy, so that Two Things for happiness this week.)
Krissie came to stay yesterday, and the house is a nightmare but she’s such a trooper, she just sat on the bed and drank iced tea while I tried to find the floor in her bedroom. Also the dogs and I moved into the back room with Emily, and things have been tense. Emily leaves them alone but Veronica barks at her, which annoys her so she leaves. Even as I type, Veronica barked at Emily. Emily ignored her. Veronica is just going to have to cope. Next we go out to breakfast to talk about books and food and everything else, which is not work, but this is late so I needed to explain why. Krissie is here. We’re talking. (Emily just tried to climb into my lap, I think she’s getting the hang of this not-a-stray-anymore thing.)
You know that old “what’s the one thing you’d save in a fire” question? After the dogs and cat, it would be my laptop, let’s be practical, but that whole “one thing” misses the important stuff by piling all this doom and smoke on the question (I know about smoke, I’m going to be cleaning up soot forever). A better question is, “What do you have that makes you happy when you look at it?”
I have a retro teakettle that I’m bananas about. A bag with a typewriter on it. Another bag with a typewriter on it. The extremely ancient peonies in my front yard. It’s that whole sparks joy thing.
I was going to title this “What Makes a Hero?” which is a lot punchier, but since “Hero” implies male and not necessarily a romantic figure we’re going with “love interest.”
At base, a love interest is somebody the protagonist falls in love with, so that’s where we’re starting. The next question, the interesting one, is “Why this person?” Granted this is going to depend on the protagonist (and the writer), but there must be some criteria across the board. It’s when I try to pin it down, that things get slippery. Continue reading →