9-16 & 9-17

9-16

There's this guy I know, Terry, who I'm sure I've never mentioned before.  He's a big, jovial guy with a Santa-like beard and a Santa-like belly, and what I know him for best is telling jokes.  He's probably told me twenty over the past five years, and of those, my favorite is, "I asked my wife last night if I was the only one she'd ever been with.  She said, 'No, the rest were all nines or tens.'"  But I had this idea that, in the story I'm writing for Marshal about the good stepdad, that the guy could tell a joke to break the ice with the boy, so I approached Terry, and asked him if he had a joke for me.*  I figured, whether it was good or bad, I would use it in the story.  Terry goes, "How do you think the unthinkable?"  Maybe you already know the punchline, but no, it was not a good joke.

I went to the library with only a little time to write, wrote barely two hundred words, and called it quits.  No big deal--I'll focus on recording tonight.

It had been threatening rain all day today, and as I looked up at the sky, I saw an amazing electrical storm, with lightning criss-crossing the sky and going off every other second or so.  It increased, getting brighter and brighter, and once I started noticing multiple lightning streaks at the same time, i decided the time to go on my run had come, even if it was just to the overlook three blocks away, so I could watch the storm.

Because Big Anklevich was headed home from work at the time, I decided to call him and bother him about it.  I was impressed with myself for choosing to exercise when everybody else was running for shelter . . . until the rain started to pour down, veritably pissing down like almost never happens outside of the movies.  And I was out in it.  Who felt bold and cool now?

Exercise: Yes (13)

9-17

I took my nephew out to catch minnows in the pond yesterday, and today, he wanted to order a metal contraption made for that purpose for fourteen dollars.  I still had to re-order a microphone cord (the damn thing was shorting during last night's recording session--and man, I am getting seriously close to finishing the easy part of the book), so I added that to the order.  But it still wasn't enough for the free shipping, so I ordered the new Stephen King book, even though I won't get it read until November at the soonest (I suppose I could take it with me to Europe, I'll have to ask Jeff).

Still moving pretty slowly, as far as the editing goes (the recording, however, is kicking all kinds of arse).  Here's where we stand:

19 / 52

I went to the library and actually worked on one of the two projects I vowed I'd finish this month, "The Washer Whispers."  I wrote on it for a little while, and it occurred to me, I don't know how this story is supposed to end.  I will have to think about it, especially if I'm supposed to finish it in the next thirteen days.   

Exercise: Yes (14)

*Much like Joe Pesci in GOODFELLAS, I think he's here to amuse me, like a clown or something.  But he doesn't always have a joke.  Sometimes he just tells me to take a good look in the mirror sometime, if I want to see a real corker.