Woke up too soon. Grrr.

Song of the day: “Respect” by Aretha Franklin. Awesome song, yet a bit tedious when your head keeps repeating it over and over again. Hah.

Let’s start this one a little different, shall we. It was grocery shopping day after all, and rather than share that with my habitual aaargh, I would prefer not to talk about it at all.

Night time. The wind howled overhead and in the distance, there where trees stood silent in a niche of the mountain, shadows stirred madly. There was a chittering noise, it started up front of a large group of human shapes and gradually made its way through the group of forty, maybe fifty.
A putrid stench clawed its way up the slope, decay and mold combining into a smell that could permeate a solid concrete wall, or so it seemed.
The group moved, clothes and flesh alike causing a whisper of a sound as they advanced gradually, eyes glimmering in the full moon just over the horizon. Feet, some clad in shoes, others not, made their way across the damp grassy soil, approached with amazing stealth.
Limbs, some bent or crooked, others not there at all, moved jerkily, much like puppets on tangled strings.
Away from the bush at last, the one up front became visible at last. Sallow skin all over, festering boils turning a cheekbone black, the curve of a once sharp jaw flaccid. Zombie. It was all over the male in ripped jeans, one work boot and a tattered arm that hung limply at his side.
I lay at the top of the hill, my riffle perched on a knoll at the edge and my left eye pressed against the night scope that awarded me with the expected view. A shiver goes down my spine, tension humming through my body at the realization that time is running out. Half a mile to go at least and then we’d be overrun.
My companions and I, (the honeymooners that had run out of gas and had waited by the side of the road. Young Tony who’d been hiding under the crashed fire-department truck. Old Sally and her gardener Pedro. And the two trigger-happy brothers now perched in ancient oak trees on either side of me.) have retreated to this bunker-style house hidden in the side of a mountain-ridge just outside of town.
Them…the zombies…overran the city the night before, and while making my way home, I had no choice but to seek refuge here, where at least we’d be able to make a stand.
My breath comes out with a small puff of smoke in the pale light of the moon, and my fingers feel chilled almost tot the point of numb as I hold the riffle in a firm grip. The weapon is armed and ready, the acrid smell of oil and cordite a sharp reminder of earlier that day when I got to test the weapon’s accuracy on another small group of zombies.
I know I’m supposed to aim for the forehead in order to be the most effective, but in all honesty my aim is still off and having the patience to wait for them to come within reach is almost too hard to bare.
I hate watching them. Their erratic movements like a movie being fast-forwarded, and their rotting flesh a clear reminder that I really should not risk missing, lest they reach us at our hideout.
From the trees on of the two trigger-happy brothers utters a warning whistle, reminding me of the mark we agreed upon when we decided to defend our present position. Rather than run all through the night.
The front zombie, Mr. Tattered Arm, is only ten steps away from the big rock that juts out of the ground near the road that leads on up to the house we occupy.
“Patience,” I remind myself under my breath, lightly tightening my finger on the trigger, almost pulling it. Almost.
Nine.
More jerky movements, a keening wail distracting me towards the female off to Mr. Tattered Arm’s right. Half a dress hangs down her shoulder, red high heels still cling to her feet yet at an extremely slanted angle, and on the left side her once lustrous hair has been burned away. Her face is a Picasso in its horrifying glory.
Mr. Tattered Arm screeches a high sound, jerking my attention back to him.
Six steps…five.
My scope blurs the image for but a moment, my focus just as tardy. There it is, the gaping cheekbone, larvae crawling in and out.
Two…one.
Trigger happy number one starts firing, the woman with the red high heels falling back as if hit in the face by a baseball bat. In the mean time Trigger happy two opens fire as well, hitting Mr. Tattered Arm in the neck. Sluggish blood spurts, but he doesn’t go down, Trigger Two doesn’t care and aims for another while I hear Trigger One shout. “For God’s sake, Sam. Some help please.”
They’re doing pretty well on their own, but I know that I really should stop dawdling before it is too late. The group of zombies have started running after all, now that our firing has allowed them to zoom in on our location more accurately.
“Yeah, yeah!” I call back, and moisten my lips and take aim once more. “Just waiting for them to come a…little…closer.” One shot, and a short, rotund zombie is send sprawling with only half a face. Another spins around mid air, blood spraying out like black rain in the silvery moonlight.
Our ammo is sparse and the creatures running at a neck-breaking speed up the slope. The honeymooners finally join in from the top of the house where they took up position early that afternoon. Gunfire pounds through the ravine until my ears hurt.
Too many. There are too many of them. I know this as I continue to aim, shoot and then all over again. Closer. Faster. Frantic movements while one after the other drops. Not fast enough. Not good enough. Ten yards. Nine.
Screaming and gunfire mix into an orchestra of sound. Two more down, I reload, take aim and…Mr. Tattered Arm is right on top of me. He jumps, I roll and try to take aim. His one good arm is raised, fingers clawed and coming down. My riffle slams is up, the barrel jams under his bloody chin. I pull the trigger…

And wake up. Gawd, I always wake up when stuff gets interesting. Grrrr.

Yeah, I know. Who needs to watch movies with dreams like that, huh? I was positively psyched and revved when I woke up Thursday morning. I thought about maybe writing a book about it, but it’s about zombies, and, well yeah, you know. It’s been done in so many ways that you really can’t think of anything new anymore eh?

So let’s get back to real life for a bit…No. Not today which was just crappy grocery shopping day, remember…and the rocks I’ve been hauling again. Seriously, it was like the good old days. Yesterday I put up a natural rock wall, with clay this time, rather than cement, because it was just for beside the path that goes down to the carport. I hauled rocks like nobody’s business and it is looking good, I tell you. Heck, I even made this little stairs so grandpa can get to the tap in the bushes easier.

I made a small terrace underneath the mimosa behind my cabin, then continued on with the wall until it went up all the way to where we always park the car. I know, the car is supposed to be put in the car port, but for some reason we’re always working on one project or other in there.

But anyway, I put the last four bags of cement on a pallet on the new little terrace, removed dirt and leaves and then helped big brother (he worked on the partition box of the car all day) put the bamboo wooden box in the Land Rover. It looks gorgeous and yes, I have also taken pictures of that. Hah.

I was wonderfully exhausted last night, but as luck would have it, I was unable to sleep during the night. For some reason I couldn’t drop into deep sleep, resulting in me being a tad vague during the course of the day.

Well, that just about sums it all up. My poor doggies need some attention, and I need to get to work on the book. Guess I’ll be back the day after tomorrow.

The loonies were out!!!

Song of the day:...who gives a bloody heck about that, the loonies were out and I gotta write about them before I burst. Seriously, I’ve been thinking about it since last night, and by now I’ve gotta write it down fast.

Soooooo let me draw you a scene. We were running behind. John Doe (main distributor, aka the boss man) was late. Admittedly he had a good excuse, his kid was ill through the night, so, okay, I couldn’t be POd about that. Wanted to, but kids are too good an excuse for me to bear a grudge. Hah.

But anyway, we started on the route late. The weather was nice so I didn’t mind all too much that we killed a couple of hours working on the paper edit, and then spent quite a bit of time admiring the imperial. (It works, it works…and we didn’t lose it underway.)
By the time we had stacked the papers into the Land Rover, the clouds were rumbling in however, so I got some seriously good exercise running back and forth with the bundles…got less this time too, what with the holidays and everything, so there was less heavy lifting to boot. Seriously, it almost felt like vacation.

But anyways we’d just about finished with the city, and I’m carrying a bundle of papers as I go through a back alley towards the indoor city market. So there, on my left, just up ahead leaning against a big plant container is a black haired dude (around eighteen or twenty I’m guessing) staring off into the distance. I don’t think much of it, and continue on when suddenly he hears my approach and straightens.
I still don’t think much of it at this point and casually glance in his direction as he spins towards me. He’s fumbling somewhat fierce down by his…ehm, nether regions, and, silly me, looks down…My bad!

YEP! It looked like a penis…only smaller. Gawd, who’d have thunk that I’d ever get the opportunity to say that one, but I can, because it is true.
Black-haired dude was definitely spending time with his best buddy. Petting the dog, admiring the weenie, polishing his lance, and…well, you get my drift. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from the shock. *snort*

But seriously, I think I disappointed the dude cause while he jerked back his shoulders and decided to let his proud member to say “Hail to the leader” *chortle* as he continued towards me. Calm as you please, too, as if his…gawd enough euphemisms already…okay, one more…as if his ROOSTER wasn’t sticking out of his zipper. I almost broke down and laughed. As it was, I didn’t break my stride and casually let my glance skip right past him on my way to the entrance.

Turns out, across from the dude two girls were casually talking together and from the look of things he was definitely staking them out while…ehm, you know, doing some heavy petting to himself. What’s this world coming to that people do this kind of thing in full daylight, I wonder? Although, it makes writing the blog a lot more fun.

Of course, considering I knew he was still there, I decided to take the front entrance back to the car and ran all the way, spurting on laughter. Poor big brother. He didn’t know what the heck was going on, and when I finally caught my breath and told him, we spent a solid five minutes looking at the black-haired dude who was standing by the side of the road as if waiting for someone.

Ah well, enough about my first time “face-to-face” with a flasher and move on to the next.
Small mall where I bring the papers. Big brother head to the market and newsagent, and I head on up to the four bars that also hold the papers.
I can honestly say that I came across my first human being who really growled like a dog. I’m not kidding. I know dogs and this dude really sounded like one. I came across him at the first bar where I drop of the papers and he was inside growling and shouting.

What with my earlier experience still fresh in my head, I eyed the old geezer wearily. He’s scruffy looking (I’ve seen him before) white beard, shortly cut gray hair and so many lines in his face I would guess him to be a professional fisherman. Dirty clothes and a mad look in his eye, I offer him a smile and deposit my papers on the counter.
As luck would have it (I was sooooo lucky yesterday) he growled…probably thinking he was a werewolf, or something…and followed me out. True to his present image he dogged my heels towards the stairs and down, where luckily, a real dog (gorgeous and sweet German Shepherd) took his place and took over his pursuit. All the while the guy continues to growl and grunt, and is still at it when I return.
Much to my relief the German Shepard and her boss were there too, so I got past the old geezer without further trouble.
Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t kidding in the title. The loonies, I tell ya.

Later that night, another location, I’m just about getting out of the car with another stack when another old dude…he reminded me of a sixty-something Omar Sharif for some reason…who asked if I’m delivering papers, and then promptly asks if I’ve spoken to John Doe. Surprised I tell him that I saw John Doe that afternoon at which time the guy wishes to know if he is well. Even as I am telling him that for as far as I know he is, the guy is walking away, without another word…so maybe not a loony, but it came across a bit weird.

So I’ve got a suspicious mind, which could be completely out of whack , but if I were the main distributor I would have, like, people here and there who can let me know if a paper is not delivered somewhere. Very devious, very smart…I wonder if John Doe is both. I wouldn’t be surprised, but then, that’s me. Hah.

My dogs were absolutely insane when I got home, but after I sat on my coffee table for a bit, giving them all a good petting they all settled down for the night and impatiently waited for me to feed them. Poor buggers. Eating just doesn't work when I'm not there. *sigh*

What else has been going on? Not all that much. I can say that my foot was friggin’ killing me again when I got home and it kept me from sleeping properly too. Also that I had to get up early to get our friend from Marbella didn’t help any, but then, that’s life, I guess. Can’t pick your days, and all in all yesterday wasn’t all that bad.

This morning, after we got back big brother, grandpa and our friend Dani headed into the yard and spent a couple of hours in the full sunshine digging holes on the mountain ridge where we planted about fifteen eucalypti. What with all the rain going on (it rained again yesterday. Did I mention that already? It seems like work day is a perfect day for rain so far. Hah.) we figured we might as well make use of it, and do some serious planting.

It was rather wonderful digging and chopping in most clay and rock, and since the weather was so nice, tenant came down as well and sat in the sunshine where we worked so she’d have company.

Since we were down there already, we also worked a bit more on the bus. What with the closet that stands in front of the back window, we’re putting up slats to make it seem more like a building. What with the green paint below it, the entire thing will look rather nice, It think. Now, if we also plant some passionflower vines there, the bus should disappear from sight entirely in just a couple of years, hah.

But, however nice working in the sunshine was (big brother and I also fixed one of the solar panels. The concrete beneath it had cracked and would go down with the next bit of wind, we were sure. Poured new concrete there.) within no time whatsoever new clouds came packing in, making it clear that we should head on up to the carport for some indoor work.

As it turns out, tenant walked up and down today, which is a major accomplishment for as far as I’m concerned. While she settled in for the night, big brother and I got to work on the console we’ve been making for the Land Rover. I’ve mentioned it before, I believe, a console of real bamboo wood. We put all the sections together today, and I’ve gotta say that it looks splendid.

Well, I’ve got another edit to focus on, so I’m going to call it a day here and get to work.

Pics and...worries?

Song of the day: “Swan lake” by Tchaikovsky. Yeah, I know. Don’t ask me why. I caught it on the radio this morning over at tenant’s place and it has been going through my head ever since.
First off, some shots of the greenhouse, and one of a sunset showing the mountains of Africa (dark gray at the horizon):

Africa. Regretfully the picture doesn't do it justice.


The front of the Greenhouse:


The back of the greenhouse. *sigh*


The inside.

Ain't it pretty?

So I feel and look like I worked at a junkyard for the last couple of days. Yep. Black hands an and a black smudge on my face. I’ve been working with old metal and dirt, so it really isn’t all that surprising. Since yesterday morning, I decided that it was time to tackle the huge pile of scrap metal that we’d been storing (and I use that term very loosely) behind my cabin, and put it somewhere else.

This meant hauling in pallets and wooden slats so we could build several containers that would contain it all. Big brother and I started on that, and by the time Grandpa joined it, I and our friend Dani started sorting through the mess that has been in a thorn in our eyes for the past couple of years, or so.

It took a sum total of 10 hours, two days combined, but the mess behind my cabin is gone, and neat piles are now stacked behind the old RV at the top of the property. While the majority of the metal could be brought up and stacked easily, I spent this morning and afternoon using the angle grinder to get off excess metal from a large number of slats.

During the sorting, most turned out to be useable still, which is good. That means that we didn’t gather the stuff for nothing. There’ll be lots of building yet for sure with all that stuff. Hah.

Well, I am of course doing this in a jumbled fashion again, because I started the day making tomato soup for lunch. I had tenant help too, and she seemed to enjoy it again. In particular since she could do both herbs and peppers. What with the fresh tomatoes I’d frozen from the yard this summer it was healthy stuff at the very least. Added to that, we’ll be eating it again tomorrow…good thing too, since we have to work tomorrow. It was a bank holiday today, meaning that everything was postponed for a day.

After making soup, I really gave in to the inevitable and went to my cabin to finally tackle the piles and piles of clean laundry littering my desk and traveling-chest. There was so much of it out of the closet that there was actually space on the shelves. Still, since I was busy with it anyway, I also sorted out my summer clothes, bagged them up and put them in storage under my bed…if only because I was desperate to put my winter sweaters somewhere. I’d been looking for them for weeks now, and finally unearthed them this morning, yay.
I’m so going to need those. Hah

Something totally different for a minute.
This is what my dogs do in the evenings when I'm working on the computer like this. Aren't they friggin' adorable? And do you get the living carpet reference now? *snort*


Troubling news, which I read on the news somewhere here in Europe. The Netherlands, I believe. Some older politician “suggested” that Jewish people should consider immigrating to a different country (for their own safety, of course) because the Moroccan, and gawd knows what other demographic group, were getting more an more violent towards them. Soon it would simply not be safe anymore. Now, does that ring any bells with anyone? Seriously, Grandpa started foaming at the mouth, saying that it’s WWII all over again. And I gotta say: Yikes. Scary stuff that. Seriously, soon they’ll start offering free passage to “the promised land” again and no one is going to do a single thing against it until it is too late.

It is one of the problems with the passage of time, I’m thinking. The older generation, the one that still remembered those that fell for the freedom of Europe during WWII, is slowly becoming extinct. Soon there won’t be anyone left to remember the horrors that happened…even now there are schools scraping the Holocaust from history lessons, because it makes certain students become violent. Yep. A few years from now, WWII will be nothing but something-that-happened-too-long-ago.
What scares me more is that it seems that we don’t learn from history at all, no matter how civilized we claim to be.

Ah well, don’t forget that I told you so when the shaite hits the fan, okay?

Let's throw in another View, just for the heck of it.


And since we're busy anyway. Tenant’s solarium…unpainted yet, but what the heck. Hah.


Tenant's solarium 2.



Oh gawd, almost forgot: The second edit is done by the way! YAY! It is good, I think. Really good for the genre, I think. The characters turned out right, and for as far as I can see the story is consistent. It’s going to go to beta readers now, and we’re going to have to do the paper edit yet, but then we really can start thinking about sending it to the publisher.

What else? Well there was loads of laundry, of course, that simply won’t dry because the weather is downright pissy, and the air moisture is nothing, if not sogging wet as well. Stuff I hung two days ago still feels moist to the touch, so let’s just hope for some sunshine (had only five minutes of that during the rainy day…here’s the shot, BTW.


Yesterday was also spent doing some more painting on the bus, along with filling more gaps. Here are some shots of that as well, seeing as I’m busy with it anyway. Hah.
Bus before painting.


Bus after painting. The back, duh.


Bus after painting the side.


Okay, kept my promise. Put up some pics, even though I am sure I forgot a few. I've spent enough time on the blog, however and I really should get down to the more serious work such as digging into the next editing project. I yearn to get back to the vampires and ghouls fast.
Buh-bye.