Oh my, I don’t know if I’ll be able to type tonight, my fingers hurt like heck…oh wait, I just typed this. Never mind.
So I wake up my usual time–thirty minutes later than I should, but it doesn’t matter, considering that due to the yard work I don’t need to do my exercises. An advantage and a disadvantage at the same time, since I wouldn’t mind pounding the boxing bag for a bit, but some things have to give in order to get work done, I guess.
After quickly going through the morning rituals, I take the dogs down to the house and start on breakfast and the usual little chores in the kitchen while talking with big brother and grandpa. The discussion is a lively one, nothing new there, I know, but that’s the way things are. I believe today’s topic was the way genetic enhancements in crops and the likes are slowly destroying the natural effect of evolution.
Though I can keep up with the conversation well enough, and even add something useful every once in a while, writing down the exact words will simply be too time consuming for the daily recount on this Blog.
Instead I’ll continue with the editing we get to, almost an hour late.
It goes well, even though today we reached a rather complicated fight sequence where the hero of the book needs to face down six drunken deviants.
His protégé (the one with chemically induced MPD, if you’ll recall) is far from useful in such a confrontation…which is an understatement, really. At the time the heroine is actually in her confrontational and aggressive personality, and ends up being the cause of the pounding the hero receives.
It’s rather exciting, and I don’t think I can describe it accurately without putting down the actual scene. A pity.
A fight between several characters is a complicated thing. You need to keep track of where everyone is, what everyone is doing and then be careful that every motion described is accurate and makes sense.
Let’s just say that there’s a lot of gesticulating going on during an edit of a fight. I swear my arms are all over the place. Hah.
But anyways, after our editing session comes to an end, we’ve pretty much rewritten the entire scene, and shut down the computer so we can head down the property to start on the fences that need to be fixed…thus explaining my painful fingers.
Now, you’ve got to understand that we have metal fences, those harmonica diamond shaped wires that work just fine if they’re intact and pulled tightly in place. If there’s a broken wire, however, it will mostly result in a hole big enough to drive a truck through.
So maybe the holes we located weren’t big enough for a truck, but the dogs sure could get out without much effort. Grrr.
It is a wonderful spring day when we arrive in the lowest part of the garden. The sun is shining brightly overhead, the temperatures are high (25 Celsius) and everything looks so darn pretty I just stand there watching the sun glimmer on the fresh new leaves of the trees and the swaying grass stems.
Since the holes the dogs made in the fences yesterday are still there, big brother and I are the only ones going down, leaving the younger sibs in the center garden with the dogs as they tackle the weeds and trimming up there.
We’ve got tools with us, wires and pieces of new fencing and start on closing the holes at the very least, when howling from way up the mountain announces that the pack has broken free and is now heading down towards us in a flurry of fur, gleaming in the warm afternoon sun.
Since we’ve already fixed the places where the dogs went through, we don’t really mind at this time, and stand there watching the pack tumbling their way down the terraces in a mad dash. They come from all sides, paws flying and ears flapping, like a massive wave of movement in the still high grass and occasional weed.
I roll my eyes at their enthusiasm, grab Knight II to calm him down, and continue to cut small pieces of wire. Then I start to attach the top part of the fence to the thick wire we just stretched between the three poles where most of the dogs’ efforts tend to cause trouble.
By this time the younger sibs join us and within the hour we have a fully functional fence once more. Repairing fences is murder on the fingers, however. Though it would be possible to use heavy gloves to protect my fingers, they really don’t allow enough dexterity to fasten everything correctly. Which is why my fingers, hands, wrists and even arms are covered with scratches that make the chore far from pleasant. It also makes my fingertips tender and sore.
However, since it is done in due time, we are well on our way back up, tackling more weeds underway, long before dusk arrives. Most of the dogs have already returned to center garden, but when they decide we take too long to join them, the more persistent members start to tug on the upper fence vigorously.
I gotta say, once those idiots get something in their heads, it will take weeks for them to forget, which is why we are constantly repairing fences these days, darn it!
It takes them less then ten minutes to create new holes and with deep sighs we stop the actual gardening to start on the fences once more.
The center garden–this is the part of the property where the dogs are free every day–is the most important fence we have, and has been fixed several times already. Yet, when I arrive to look at the damage, I find that the little monsters have literally chewed their way through the metal until they could squeeze under it.
By now the dogs get distracted. The truck is back from the repairs…and yes, rodents got into the wiring again…and keeps their attention long enough for us to evaluate what needs to be done next.
While big brother tackles the second hole near to the wall of the courtyard, I settle down to weave a patch of wires and then take the large piece of thick steel netting–a leftover from our building days–grandpa found, to place over the entire stretch of fence.
By the time dusk has settled and the last bit of sunlight has left we’re done for the day and head inside to have dinner. Mom made spaghetti with a rich tomato sauce and the carbs certainly go down well after the rather exhausting efforts we put in today.
During dinner a “Law & Order: Special Victims Unit” is on, but even though it is a new episode it doesn’t hold my attention to satisfaction. Rather than stick around, I get up to retrieve the laundry from the lines for folding and hang the new batch. Once I’m done the show is finished, and the new one “The Eleventh Hour” starts up.
It is still early to say whether it’s good or not, but it has potential. The characters are good, the actors are believable in their roles and the story is interesting. It might be great, but I’m reserving judgment for the moment.
I have to admit that these outside projects are having the most wonderful effect on the dogs. They are so bloody exhausted by the end of the evening that we hardly hear a peep from them once they’ve been fed and literally flop down on the nearest available spot to snooze the evening away. Hah.
The TV gets shut off at this time, and big brother and I settle behind our computers once more. We’re preparing query letters at the moment and we need to design a new letterhead that ‘ll be “just perfect”.
While I’m slowly typing a letter, getting constantly distracted by big brother’s tryouts, a rather good one begins to take form. By the end of the evening, we’ve got the second letter done, and a letterhead to go with it. Whew.
There is still some doubt about the genre I should put the story in. Basically “Saving Nina” is a psychological thriller, but romance and drama play a big part too. Whichever I decide on, we’re going to design at least four different letterheads they might come in handy later on.
I’m running an hour late when we finally finish, and hurry on up to my cabin to feed the dogs and start on the evening rituals. I get distracted again, of course, when big brother arrives and we continue to discuss the ongoing projects for another hour or two…making me even later than I already was.
The night is wonderfully mild and I don’t need to put on the heater in order to be comfortable, but the valley below if covered under a thick blanket of clouds that make fragments of mist float up. They swirl mysteriously around my cabin as we lounge in the sitting room, while still staying low enough to give an excellent view of the inky black sky filled with stars.
I can’t wait for summer to start and my nightly exploits on the Net can be enjoyed on my porch where I can fully appreciate the view.
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