We went away. Again.
Dec. 3rd, 2012 02:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceI am, as you know, barely back from Portland, where there was sun and rain and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
calendula_witch and Mark, and I wanted to buy half a bookstore but had to content myself with a couple of books, and we had fabulous Thai with davidlevine and kateyule, and I learned a new card game and and and.
Nevertheless, yesterday Karen packed me and our bags into the car and we drove over the hills to Santa Cruz, to stay overnight with Mike and Paula and Nate. And a fine time was had by all, or at least by us; and it rained and rained, and we saw the harbour lights and the ridiculously overdecorated house in a drive-by kind of way, and it rained and rained, and we may have drunk quite a lot of wine actually, and this morning was the first time I have seen a houseowner dashing about in shorts and rainwater because he was worried that his swimming pool might overflow. The phrase "First World problems" may have escaped his lips, but hey. It's a worry.
Among other worries, I worry that I may have wasted the whole of this last month specifically, and most of the year generally, in a writerly kind of way. It's not really much consolation to learn that I am not the only novelist who has moved to California and effectively lost a year's output in the doing and the adjustments and so forth; schadenfreude was never much my thing.
But anyway. I am making myself feel better by clarifying spiced butter in an Ethiopian kind of way, and making South African sausage balls to fry in it, and roasting little baby potatoes in cummerbunds of rosemary and garlic, and only not cooking collard greens to go with because the collard greens are too old and tired and I wouldn't do that to them, it isn't fair.
Also I am drinking two-buck Chuck (it's red wine! for two dollars a bottle!), which may actually be improved for having breathed for about five days.
calendula_witch and Mark, and I wanted to buy half a bookstore but had to content myself with a couple of books, and we had fabulous Thai with davidlevine and kateyule, and I learned a new card game and and and.Nevertheless, yesterday Karen packed me and our bags into the car and we drove over the hills to Santa Cruz, to stay overnight with Mike and Paula and Nate. And a fine time was had by all, or at least by us; and it rained and rained, and we saw the harbour lights and the ridiculously overdecorated house in a drive-by kind of way, and it rained and rained, and we may have drunk quite a lot of wine actually, and this morning was the first time I have seen a houseowner dashing about in shorts and rainwater because he was worried that his swimming pool might overflow. The phrase "First World problems" may have escaped his lips, but hey. It's a worry.
Among other worries, I worry that I may have wasted the whole of this last month specifically, and most of the year generally, in a writerly kind of way. It's not really much consolation to learn that I am not the only novelist who has moved to California and effectively lost a year's output in the doing and the adjustments and so forth; schadenfreude was never much my thing.
But anyway. I am making myself feel better by clarifying spiced butter in an Ethiopian kind of way, and making South African sausage balls to fry in it, and roasting little baby potatoes in cummerbunds of rosemary and garlic, and only not cooking collard greens to go with because the collard greens are too old and tired and I wouldn't do that to them, it isn't fair.
Also I am drinking two-buck Chuck (it's red wine! for two dollars a bottle!), which may actually be improved for having breathed for about five days.