So I return from the happiest place on earth. How was it, you ask? I've been amusing myself by telling people it was uplifting, which it was, but in more ways that I intended.
"We're pretty good team," is what goes through my head. Weird thought to occur at 2 a.m. while you and your husband are managing a vomiting child, but perhaps every thought is weird at 2 a.m.
I hadn't been sleeping well that night. Neither of us had, I think, though there were no obvious outward signs of trouble brewing in the next room. I got up to use the bathroom and came back to find the light on in the kiddo's room. I altered course and found my husband speaking soothing words and holding a bowl for a puking child.
Rarely a dull moment around here.
She walked into my office on a hot, muggy night, one of those nights where you could wring the sky out like a wet pair of wool socks. She dabbed at her red eyes with a lace knit hanky and fell into the chair opposite me.
I pulled my feet off the desk and looked the dame over. She didn't look like my usual clientele, not by a long shot.
I'm Gyle, by the way. R. Gyle, and I'm a detective.
The last few weeks have taken me on many adventures, traveling some of my favorite veins of California's water system. I've been camping in the woods along the Big Sur river, swimming with family in Lewis Creek, and drifting on lazy parts of the Merced River in Yosemite. A couple of the state's greatest hits, really.
Last Monday, I went to a movie with a friend. Having sort of skipped dinner, I did something uncharacteristic and actually bought food (or the closest approximation thereof) at the theater. My hotdog came with a medium drink. When the clerk hoisted the beverage onto the counter, the resounding thump was followed by a beat of total silence, before my friend and I burst out laughing. The receptical before me was a 44 ounce trough. I would only be exagerating slightly if I said I could fit my cat Weasley in that cup. And Weasley? Not small.
A Treatice on Speculative Fiction:
Why We Read it and Why We Write it
Yesterday was Star Wars Day. We celebrated with bursts of Yoda-speak. Luke and I made wookie cookies while listening to the score of "A New Hope" and in the evening we all watched a little of "Empire Strikes Back", which, of course, is the best of the three. (Thus speaks Swingbug.)
What makes them wookie cookies, you ask?
Well, they're chewy.
We hope you enjoyed this most auspicious of holidays as well. May the force be with you always.
Happy Easter everybody. We had the standard sort of affair. The rabbit showed up and made a god-awful mess of a carrot and some lettuce in the living room, but he left behind jelly beans and a chocolate self-effigy, so we'll let it slide, I guess. We dyed eggs, and our fingers, in many merry colors and otherwise had a pretty chill weekend. A walk to the park, dinner with the folks, some sewing and lego building and whathaveyou. Good times. Two friends dropped by with baked goods.