All in all, November was delightful, but not for my poor blog. We will do better, starting today.
November was full of family (brother home from Florida for a visit) and a family vacation (my parents and siblings in a lakeside house with a lovely view including tenacious Bradford pear trees still on fire with autumn color, white pelicans, cormorants, bald eagles and one evening, just before dark, a tükörsima lake), snow (which we managed to dodge perfectly as far as travel went), and drama (Not from family! Hubby went toe-to-toe with Dish Network on a crappy installation job on one of our rentals and won!) and achievements and near misses, and proof to myself that I can pull out all the stops and achieve a goal. I had forgotten how much I love getting lost in make-believe worlds of my own making in a way that I can’t in the shorter pieces I normally write. 25,000 words over a 5-day period not only fully immersed me in the story world, it gave me some new characters I can still play with. And a NaNo win. And sore typing fingers. Sore wrists. Elbows. Arm muscles. Shoulders.
November was something else.
So here is December when I get all contrary and hole up in my house and refuse to shop. Much. Tonight I have a thick blanket of fog cocooning me. As long as I don’t have to drive in it, I think fog is fascinating. I can barely see across the street, but the lights have taken on a life of their own. It is eerily quiet, just like it is on an early morning after a heavy overnight snowfall.
Tonight the fog is making me excited about December.