[Original post on this date: Another day, another thunderstorm. Another day of scared dogs.
Another day of no power. Maybe, they say, they’ll have it down to “only” 80,000 customers without power by Sunday.]
Since I’m posting after the fact, I may have been messing up which Mary Stewart novels I read in what order. It doesn’t matter, really, because the point is, they’re helping regulate my mood and stopping me from constantly fretting over missing my own characters and writing.
The Moon-Spinners is among my favorites. No telling how many times I’ve read it. It was made into a movie with Haley Mills, which I’ve never seen, and I’m quite happy about that because it sounds like a terrible adaptation.
Unreal. I’m tempted to say “why do people live there” but then I remember where I live.
Where can we live? Every place I can think of makes me feel fragile or vulnerable in a different way.
I quite agree. So, rule out the desert. The heat is good for my parents’ sore joints, but that’s why there exists short sessions at
SPAs doctor’s offices.It’s like civilization -vs- green grass and treed park shade with rivers and boats and bike trails and camping and life -vs- work -vs- weather that keeps it all alive -vs- weather that kills it all off -vs- weather that damages but we still want to stay here, etc.
Where can we live?