Some ranting and the day.

Song of the “Life for rent” by Dido. Very apt in light of my little rant. Gawd, is it just me, or can people be totally insane? Grrr.

I’m gonna have to rant a bit, ‘cause I’ve been chomping at the bit for most of the day.

In a theme park in England, if the Mercury rises over 25 degrees, patrons are no longer allowed to raise their arms high in the ride. (I know what you’re thinking: Huh???) I’m trying to imagine this, mind you: 25 degrees hit, unlucky fellow in the “Cobra” ride, or whatever, raises his arms, screams his lungs out, and the theme park police pounces: “You raised your arms; you’re outta here! Security, remove this vile smelling creature from the grounds. Undue force is allowed.”
I’m not kidding, the piece states, if patrons raise their arms after all, they will be removed from the grounds.
Okay, I don’t like bodily odors either, but…hellooohoooh…if we start complaining about that sort of thing everyone might as well stay home. I’m serious, I’m always significantly annoyed by traffic jams; solution: Everyone stay home on hot days when I need to go shopping. Let’s make it a rule, and anyone who breaks it can go to jail for a year or two. Aaargh.

Another cute one:

The police in a town in the Netherlands are going to try something new that is absolutely brilliant (yes, don’t worry, that’s just sarcasm that makes the sentence droop off the page). They are going ask civilians to report on their neighbors if they think that the guy next door is driving a car that’s too expensive…’cause let’s face it, any Tom, Dick and Harry who drives a car that’s too expensive has GOT to be a criminal. *snort*
Hmmm. Let me think about that for a minute…….yep, KGB, communism, Kremlin, those are what come to mind with “wonderful” ideas like that. What business is something like that to one’s neighbor? I mean, seriously. Can you imagine how this is going to work? Your neighbor’s P.O.ed at you for…I don’t know…leaving a slipper on the pavement, half an inch off your property, and voila he reports you for having a car that you supposedly can’t afford.
Hello! No one heard of a loan before? Saving up? A small/big inheritance? A promotion that you didn’t share with the entire neighborhood? Jeez, talk about a short circuit in my brain. Disaster waiting to happen, if ya ask me.

Oh yeah, and has anyone noticed how the “get a loan” commercials are now ending their add with “remember, borrowing money costs money”? I was like “What? Really? I had no idea!” I gotta say, anyone who doesn’t know that really shouldn’t be allowed to take out a loan, if ya ask me. Hah.

Also, somewhere in Spain (the madness is not contained to a single country, mind you) I don’t know where, but I’m hoping that they were referring to a single town, not the whole, it is no longer to shout in your own home. I’m not kidding; it was on the news. It is against the rules to SHOUT. Stuff like that makes we want to…eh, yeah, well, SHOUT.

The fun doesn’t stop there, noooh! Here’s a good one:

New electronically enhanced cars (I feared this for years, but what the heck) have a dangerous little side effect. If one crashes into the water, all those nifty electrical wires and whatnot…you know, the kind where you can press a button and the doors will lock, windows close etc. etc. which haven’t been properly closed off, will lock you in your car, with no possibility of getting out. Yep, saw that one coming from a mile off, but now a study makes it fact. (Wonder how much that brilliant deduction cost them.)
Can you imagine the headline? “Family of four survives a car-dive into the water; regretfully they drowned when the windows and doors failed to open.”
No chance of something like that happening when you’ve got one of those little levers that you need to turn around (at least FIVE times…that just won’t do, can’t need to move too much, of course: I know, let’s make it electric!) to get your window down. Or worse yet, imagine having to lean in THREE DIFFERENT directions to lock ALL the doors of your car, to lock it, when you can also do it by pressing a single button. Aaaaah.

‘Tis daft, I tell ya! Daft!!!
Okay, rant over. I really should stay the heck away from asinine news reports.

So let’s get to the day: I am seriously sore all over when I wake up. Yep, hauling twenty bags of forty pound (two at a time) down to the carport might have been overdoing it a bit…especially since I had to haul big ass rocks for…the WALL THAT WENT DOWN! Drat. I just had to go and remind myself of yesterday. And that while I had so successfully suppressed it. Grrr.

I actually slept a full seven hours this night, yeah, I know, it surprised me too, but I conked out last night and was literally out like a light. I did have a dream, but regretfully it faded as soon as I woke up.
No marvelous dream to write about, then. Ah well, no matter. The usual morning rituals ensue… and it looks like it’s going to be a warm day as I head down to the house.

There’s the morning chores, and then it is down to the edit. Only three or four pages get done, but the story is coming along nicely. Six hours after waking up, we’re back outside.
Middle sister starts making cement and to kill time I get busy on the narrow terrace removing the weeds from the mess.

Soon the younger sibs and I start working over by the crashed wall. The first few hours are spent removing debris and dirt, the latter gets dump in an empty container in the small garden. We filled it up and then started pouring concrete on the new, bigger rocks that little brother and I haul down.

We spent another few hours adding to the new section of wall. It’s turning out rather solid; a foot and a half deep, and by the time we finish, two and a half high, and a good foundation for what needs to come on top.

That done, I spend a while putting up a small fence, behind which I plant the two sprouting melon plants that came up, and several cut of plants that should be able to grow on their own as long as they get enough water.
After sweeping the new floor clear of sand and what not, I head inside for dinner and start on the day’s blog…which is when I find out that the publisher has responded at last.

I hold my breath when I open my mail, squeeze my eyes shut for a minute and then start to read:
Though it was a no, it was not a bad letter at all…here are some quotes:

"The project has a very unique premise and I like the way you have written Nina’s character.

It is a solid romance read, but I’m afraid the writing is not as strong as I would like to see for our company.

Fortunately, there are many publishing opportunities currently open to authors and I would encourage you to keep looking for a publisher.

If you are willing to shorten the story, there may be an opportunity for you within one of our other lines. I would query them if you are interested in that option.

Whatever you decide to do, best of luck and thank you again for thinking of us."

I’ve have received worse, so I’m not as bummed as I thought I’d be. I mean, the story didn’t get bashed, and the strong writing…though I will undoubtedly check (again)…is personal perspective in a lot of cases too. Ah well, it just means we’re going to have to send out again, I guess.

A little more laundry to do, probably a lot of talking, checking etc. etc. but much to my relief the day has come to an end and I can crawl in my bed for a much deserved early night.

Broken fences: A disaster waiting to happen.

So, I’m running a little behind again, which means that I’m going to have to keep this short today.

Let’s skip the morning rituals, shall we? They really were just the same as they always are making them a little redundant at this point.
Talking about redundant, today’s editing session was basically the same as yesterday and got us to a solid fourth of the book. Excellent. We’re making headway there at least.

After about three hours of editing, big brother and I put our computers away and I head on down the property to resume gardening. What with the main two terraces having been worked through during the days that passed, I climb farther down to start on the lowest part that is, as of yet, untouched.

I need to retrace my steps several times, since blind and deaf Bommel decides to follow the pack and me down to the fence…and proceeds to loose my scent in the high weeds and grass. The poor Bobtail keeps straying from the track the dogs make and every time I need to go back to touch his face and then let him follow my scent until we’re as low as we can go and he can safely navigate through the wild.

While big brother is at the top of the property, doing a rush repair job on the gate, the younger sibs join me below. Little brother climbs the large mimosa tree that lost it’s top during the October hurricane and starts sawing into the broken wood while I tackle dead trees and weeds alike on the ground.

A large pile of wood debris rapidly gathers and we’re in the midst of finishing with the last trunk when our northern neighbors arrive home and alert the dogs to a (a not so) welcome distraction.
That’s when today’s potential disaster strikes.

Four of our pack are daintily walking towards the neighbor’s property, and it takes us a full second to realize it before we start shouting at the dogs to get their butts back where they belong, as we scramble to see where they managed to get through the ten year old fence.

It only takes a minute to reach the spot where somehow, Sitabah, Touri, Dax and Matti have managed the worm their way under the fencing, creating a hole that appears to be screaming for the other dogs to follow suit. Middle sister jumps in front of the hole, while I start tugging at a part of the fence that has drooped so low the dogs could easily scale it.

Exasperated about their disobedience I’m calling my three dogs back, leaning over the fence the jerk small Dax (pocket Beagle) back inside, while I bend my leg and set it so that little brother can step on the extending limb to vault over the fence.

While he goes in hasty pursuit…the neighbor’s dog has appeared, and is curiously watching the approaching dogs…my sisters start herding the rest of the pack up the mountain towards the second fence that is to keep more from escaping the last (now broken) boundary.

Of course, my dogs refuse to follow and crowd closely around me while I lean out and manage to grab Touri by the scruff of his neck. With one jerk he’s back inside, and I’m still shouting at Sitabah while little brother chases after his black lab, Matti, who’s excitedly heading for the neighbor’s dog.

Sitabah, always scared of little brother, rushes back and starts moving back and forth in front of the fence in search for a way back in. Rather than bother with the hole, I lean out once more and grab the loose skin of her neck. I then hook my other arm under her stomach so I can heave her over instead.

While doing this, several of the other dogs are already trying to wiggle their way through the hole and I hurry towards it just a second too late to grab Gadah, who saw her chance for adventure and took it. Luckily she listens and worms her way back in when I squat down and order her back inside.

Shouting up the mountain for the sisters to get repairing tools, wire and metal pins for fastening, I slam my foot on the bottom of the fence and try to keep it shut until the necessities and big brother arrive.

While I’m discussing our options with big brother–accidentally shifting my foot just a fraction–Labhana manages a quick escape, too, but returns after a firm reprimand and the order to come to heel. Since there is little we can do, what with my personal pack still looking for a way through the fence, we finally decide to just take the dogs up to the house–dusk is rapidly approaching nonetheless–and leave the task for tomorrow.

We will need to do some serious weeding before fastening new top and bottom wires that will keep the fence in place. Now it won’t be possible what with the sun already disappearing, and since the top fence has been repaired during the past few days, disaster is unlikely to strike as long as we keep the gates closed.

That settled, we gather our tools and head on up.
While big brother helps Bommel–the Bobtail is unable to make the trip on his own now that the trip down has tired him considerably–I herd my pack through the gate and close it behind me.

Knight II is throwing up a fuss, and I spend a good five minutes disciplining him until he finally calms down enough not to be a danger to me or the other dogs.
The big lug really doesn’t know his own strength, and since he still thinks he’s a puppy, and acts like it, I need to reaffirm my status as the Alpha of the pack before he does something we’re both going to regret. It is an exhausting and time consuming battle of wills, but in the end he submits and settles down.

Rather than cook an actual meal we all decide to make a snack for ourselves. While the younger sibs go for egg rolls, I prepare bread with lettuce, tomatoes, grilled cheese, red peppers and onion, with a yogurt sauce on it for mom, big brother, and myself. The meal does the trick well enough and it’s fast, at least.

Forty minutes later big brother and I are on our way to town for another quick lesson. It doesn’t go well today, but I don’t care.
I’m not feeling too cheerful, however, when we return home, and neither is big brother. The lessons are always exhausting, and I have no idea why, it’s not like I don’t know what to do, or that I’m learning anything new.

It doesn’t improve our mood either that the story we submitted to a publisher recently was rejected. But I remind myself that I’m not surprised after reading a variety of stories that have been published there of late. The stories are horrid, and the writing style…well, let’s just say that I liked the publisher a lot better ten years ago, which was why I submitted the story to them in the first place.

We watch “House” and “The Mentalist” both of which were recorded during our absence and then the day has pretty much come to an end.

Big brother and I talk for a long time, discussing our next steps in all the things that still need to be done and plan. It is a time-consuming effort, but on days such as these, planning is the best option.