LOTS of toes

"These are All Mine, Mom," he said, pulling off his sock and proudly displaying his cute little foot.

I sat down next to him on the stair to get a closer look (ok, so I didn't know what he was talking about, at first).

"One, two, three, four, five, six! I have six toes!" (I only counted five, but what's one extra toe)

He puts his sock back on. "I don't want to lose any. I have LOTS of toes, Mom."

Go (yawn) Sox

All is quiet. Children are sleeping. I have the TV all to myself. If it wasn't for the World Series, I honestly wouldn't know what to do with it.

Yes I would. I'd turn it off and go to bed. Darn those Sox!

So, once again, I'll be sleeping in tomorrow morning. The writing will have to squeeze into the rest of the day. Because I may never see another Series in Chi-town in my lifetime.

I think my muse is routing for Houston, in seven games, with extra innings.

Movin on up

I submitted my last column last night.

I've had a monthly column in our local daily newspaper for the last two years. Every couple years they put out a call for some new blood, and now there's a new editor to boot. In other words, she didn't pick me before, so I don't think my chances of being picked again are very good. They even extended the deadline, to encourage more applicants. Which leads me to believe she is not going to renew any of the current crop.

Oh well, it was a good learning experience. I've got two years' worth of clips, even one reprint. Some nice feedback from readers.

Time to move on. And up!

Go Sox!

These late nights are killing me.

If I don't go to bed early (and I mean EARLY), I can't get up early. If I don't get up early, I don't get to write. If I don't get to write, then ... well ... um ...(MAJOR BRAIN JUMBLE).

But how often do I get to root for the home team in the playoffs? I mean, nothing much happens around here once the regular season is over (at least not since MJ retired, anyway). Frankly, if you really hate football, it's a nice place to live since we have the shortest football season of any major city. And with two baseball teams, you'd think we have more chances at post season play. The odds are in our favor, but there's a curse floating around, and just plain bad luck hovering over the south side.

It's raining in California tonight. Raining White Sox baseballs. I feel like I'm just waiting for the inevitable ... but the Sox just keep hitting and hitting and hitting. Could it be? Is tonight the night?

Last year the Red Sox (and my first love, my first hometown team) ended one of the longest droughts in baseball history. This year, tonight, the White Sox are about to end their longest drought without a Pennant (last one was 1959 for those of you who haven't heard at least 20,000 times), and go for the World Series. I'm just waiting up ... only three outs away ...

First batter ... strike one, strike two, ground out
2nd batter ... strike one, strike two, popped out
(They're making this look so easy, what took so long?!)
3rd batter ... fly ball

That's it, folks. THE WHITE SOX ARE GOING TO THE WORLD SERIES!

And now I can go to bed, a very happy Sox fan.

Oh What a Beautiful Morn!

"Pink skies at night, sailor's delight,
Pink skies in the morning, sailor's warning."

That little rhyme is embedded in my brain, and plays itself every single time I see a beautiful sunset, or sunrise. Which has been pretty much every single day this past summer.

Right now, I'm viewing the latter. And that little "warning" in my brain does nothing to deter from it's beauty. All I can think of, when I see the sunlight reflecting pinks and oranges and purples off the clouds is "what a great way to start the day!"

I had to pause, open the sliders and step outside for a moment, to take it all in before it disappears into the day. And now, it's time for me to rouse the troops and start the day in our little corner of the world.

But not before pausing to appreciate the magnificence of nature's painting on the sky.

Brain Jumble

You'd think since I'm not posting here much that I must be very busy. Oh yes, very, very busy. So busy my brain is a jumbled mess. That's what happens when I don't sit down and take big chunks out every now and then and put them on paper. So I can throw them away. Or hide them in a box someplace, only to be found by the children who are in the midst of trashing the place. So they fly around the room (because that is what good writing is for, you know, flying around) and becoming even more disconnected and jumbled and eventually they will all land in a neat pile that doesn't make any sense but will when I finally type it all up and send it off to a publisher and it becomes the NEXT BIG THING. It could happen.

Or I could just sit butt in chair and finish current WIP and then quietly put it into a nice little box and hide it under my bed for all eternity. Yep, sounds like a plan.