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Why won't Opera display the Mundane Science Fiction Blog? Or a lot of other Blogspot blogs? Why won't it launch a Popcap game properly?
The "knowledge base" at Opera is no help.
Anyway, I've been making about three hundred words a day, not all keepers, because I've been engaged with the vengeful spirit of Andrew Marvell, who keeps egging on the hordes of fruit I must process in self-defense.
Saturday: collection of pears,apples, grapes and blackberries
Sunday: blackberry jam, apple juice for pears, pear-blackberry tart (which was excellent but the nice fellow went out and bought supermarket sweet rolls and let the tart go nasty! WTF?)
Monday morning: pear-grape and mixed-fruit leather in the dryer (still in the dryer! Those guys are wet!)
Monday night: canned pears
Today, I don't know: there's still a lot of pears and maybe I'll make pear puree? Like applesauce? Or there's some unprocessed windfall apples, maybe I'll combine them into apple-pear sauce? There are also grapes ripening. There's some critter, maybe a bird, maybe a bug, that likes to bite the ripe grapes but not consume them, leaving me with a dilemma as to whether to toss the bit grapes or use them somehow. That's why I put grapes into the fruit leather. Overripe fruit is good in fruit leather too.
Nobody has asked me about the extra time on Friday yet, but they haven't picked up the timecards yet either.
I went through my old sewing patterns and kept the four that I can make fit me now and hesitated about the ones that are only five inches too small, because I have already lost a couple inches where it matters . . . but I put all the ones that are too small at all in a bag for Emma to look at (go look, Emma. I believe they are all complete and some of them have served me quite well in the past).
I also went through a corner of the old pile of papers upstairs and recycled a bunch and stacked others in such a way that you can get around it (this is the stuff that was inside of a huge filing cabinet (horizontal, I think you call it, with four drawers each almost four feet long) we pulled out of this room so we could work on the floor and I think I don't want to put it back because I think it's too big. So I don't want to have all the stuff that was in it and on it any more.
And so now I turn to my writing -- by my calculation I have an hour.
The "knowledge base" at Opera is no help.
Anyway, I've been making about three hundred words a day, not all keepers, because I've been engaged with the vengeful spirit of Andrew Marvell, who keeps egging on the hordes of fruit I must process in self-defense.
Saturday: collection of pears,apples, grapes and blackberries
Sunday: blackberry jam, apple juice for pears, pear-blackberry tart (which was excellent but the nice fellow went out and bought supermarket sweet rolls and let the tart go nasty! WTF?)
Monday morning: pear-grape and mixed-fruit leather in the dryer (still in the dryer! Those guys are wet!)
Monday night: canned pears
Today, I don't know: there's still a lot of pears and maybe I'll make pear puree? Like applesauce? Or there's some unprocessed windfall apples, maybe I'll combine them into apple-pear sauce? There are also grapes ripening. There's some critter, maybe a bird, maybe a bug, that likes to bite the ripe grapes but not consume them, leaving me with a dilemma as to whether to toss the bit grapes or use them somehow. That's why I put grapes into the fruit leather. Overripe fruit is good in fruit leather too.
Nobody has asked me about the extra time on Friday yet, but they haven't picked up the timecards yet either.
I went through my old sewing patterns and kept the four that I can make fit me now and hesitated about the ones that are only five inches too small, because I have already lost a couple inches where it matters . . . but I put all the ones that are too small at all in a bag for Emma to look at (go look, Emma. I believe they are all complete and some of them have served me quite well in the past).
I also went through a corner of the old pile of papers upstairs and recycled a bunch and stacked others in such a way that you can get around it (this is the stuff that was inside of a huge filing cabinet (horizontal, I think you call it, with four drawers each almost four feet long) we pulled out of this room so we could work on the floor and I think I don't want to put it back because I think it's too big. So I don't want to have all the stuff that was in it and on it any more.
And so now I turn to my writing -- by my calculation I have an hour.
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