Weddings, surprise birthday parties, first years, family vacations. I sorted them, collating as I went. I arranged for the proper bindings, made sure all the pages were in order, and stacked them.  In theory, it held an almost mythological quality - The Goddess of Drunken Gatherings, Girl only Getaways, and Puppy's First Year. In reality, I am the cog in a giant wheel at a printing facility in South Seattle. In any case, it's only temporary, so I'll view myself as miss goddess if you please.

All of this is part of my strategy to not engage myself in a job that takes me farther away from my focus on writing than need be. Which is also part of sub strategy: pay off some bills as quickly as possible so I can be free to write more and work less. So for the next few weeks I'll be pulling some insane double shift business while I throw both strategies into gear and slam on the gas. Basically this means days at the landscaping gig (as long as it lasts given the weather and my boss' ability to pull down a new job) and three nights a week a the printers. So those of you planning holiday gifts of memory books and calendars with blurb.com, Snapfish.com and the like I have two things to tell you:

1. Thanks! You're padding my coffers nicely,

and...

2. Maybe naked pictures of your lover's butt aren't the thing you want to put on this year's calendar...do you have any idea how many people handle each product at a printing press? (Let's just say A LOT)

I'm taking a pass on NANO this year, and I assume you'll excuse me for being less regular than usual (which isn't saying much) when it comes to posting much. I'm still taking small bites of the novel, and I finally got the much needed details to start the crazy AI story I was dreaming of back at CW. I'm just paying now, so I can play later.

Is stepping on the rake. You know in the cartoons, when the character -usually the antagonist - come speeding around the corner (think Wiley Coyote) and flaps one big foot on the upturned tines of the rake. Whereby the rake then flies into action, the ninety degree angle of tines to handle providing catapult like action and sending the handle on a collision course with Wiley's canine snout.

yeah so apply that image to me at work bending over to pickup the pick-axe from the wall of equipment (another deadly weapon disguised as a tool) and stepping a little too close to the rake lined up next to it. One of those old school heavy duty rakes with the hard metal tines. Thankfully because It was leaning against the fence so there wasn't a helluva lot of momentum coming - AND - I had my head turned sideways, I narrowly avoided having my snout crushed with a wooden handle - or an "impact lobotomy."

I did however have my ipod bud in my left ear so when the handle hit my head - OUCH - I got the double ouch of having an earbud crushed into my ear canal. Lets just say in the following moments I made up a few new swear words. After my ear stopped ringing - and the headache subsided without any permanent damage I did get a good giggle out of it.

Although I do have a certain sympathy for Wiley these days. 

Why is it always a scenario of assumed destruction? Maybe I'm stuck in whimsy land, but for a bull to be in a china shop in the first place shows a rather discerning amount of taste - why else would a bull go into a china shop in the first place? Then, wouldn't the bull be the most careful of all patrons, aware of his broad stature and impressive horns. I confess, the mental image of a Ankole-Watusi in a tweed suit wandering through narrow isles filled with elegant ming dynasty vases fills we with the same delight I felt reading Chris Van Allsburg books as a kid. I just think it's unfair to the bull to assume inherent violence in its nature.

Just a thought.

(I'm midway through the 2007 winter outerwear photography/editing "extravaganza" so forgive me if I'm starting to sound a little batty...it will all be over soon)