Not much to say about last night. I recorded a story by another author, just for something to do (maybe I'll share it with my Patrons, but more likely, it'll be forgotten about), then I started into another H.P. Lovecraft one, which I knew I'm free to put out as I like. But I fell asleep one page into that dense, dense text, and man, that was all she wrote.
I had a nice fire going by then (really, once I got it started with the kindling I gathered last trip, it burned nicely, and I'd just throw a new log on every half hour or so), and I decided to just go to sleep, probably the earliest I ever have while visiting here alone.
The fire went out in the night, and the temperature started to drop. I could have gotten up and done something about it, but you know how it is in the dark of night--I just gathered the blankets tighter about myself and went back to sleep.
I woke up later than I usually do--only an hour before my alarm went off, so technically later than the last couple of days. I checked the thermometer--it was fifty-three in the cabin and twenty-nine outside the cabin. So, I turned on me laptop (don't know why I said "me" instead of "my," but I'm not going to fix it) and started up a fresh fire. Once it's going, I'll heat some water to wash my face and brush my teeth, and that's when the day will really begi--
Oh, the fire went out. Gotta start again.
Paper burns really easily (duh, right), but it doesn't produce much heat and creates a lot of ash. Some of the logs that I gathered for this winter were the fresh ones my brother cut down in May or so, and those just don't want to burn (plus they make a lot of smoke). Next time I gather--which may be today, if the sun is warm enough that the snow melts and I--you know what, I need to just do it, just gather up a few logs so I have them this trip and next trip, because once it starts to snow here, it SNOWS, and all the wood will be buried under inches of white.
Of course, once that happens, I won't be able to come here anymore. My brother said he spent the day after Thanksgiving here one time, and when he woke up in the morning, it had snowed so much he was lucky to get his truck (a four-wheel drive) back to the canyon road.* If the snows came while I was here, I would be in trouble, as my little Corolla is not built to drive through snow. There was one section of the road yesterday that was covered in snow--likely shaded enough by the trees that sunshine never reaches it--and I had to slow down to five miles an hour or so, just to be sure of not sliding. Driving on ice and snow are on my Bottom Ten List, stubbing my toe and unrequited love.
Interestingly enough, our current President has replaced "physical exercise" on my Bottom Ten list in 2020. Hmmm.
Right now, the fire is burning nicely, the paper and kindling having gone up and now the single log they were around cooking well. But it started--the fire, I mean--started making an interesting sound--a chugging rhythmic sound like a train leaving the station in an old Western. I don't know why fire would make that sound, but it's fun to listen to. There's also the crackling of the small branches I loaded in, and the only other sound is the construction guys down the hill working on the immense cabin there. Honestly, it's got three floors and looks more like a hotel than a cabin. I've no doubt, though, that it's not a hotel, and belongs to one family. Maybe they have ten kids like Big Anklevich's parents (or twelve like my Mom's, or thirteen like my brother-in-law's), but I wouldn't be surprised to find out they just have a lot of money, and only three kids or fewer.
Why did I get going on that? Oh yeah, the sound of the fire burning, and the sound of them hammering and lifting up boards. I do not envy them out in the cold this morning, but at least it's in the twenties today, rather than on Monday, when it was the teens.
I edited the part in "My Friend of Misery" this morning where Brielle goes to bed with a boy for the first time, and after that, he's no longer interested. It's odd because the third "Lara and the Witch" book begins that same way, with Lara getting her first boyfriend as a Sophomore in high school, and he takes off as soon as he's gotten what he wants.
I wonder why I'd beat that particular drum twice in a year. Oh, I understand that that's what happens, and it's perfectly understandable (if not commendable) on a biological level, but I only ever had one friend tell me that had happened, and he was a guy.
Anyway, the reason it happens in MFOM is so that Brielle is tempted to get revenge on him, the same way that her little brother starts evening the score with the bullies that make school unpleasant for him. In the Lara/Holcomb story, it's just setting the stage for when Lara meets Scott in her Junior year, and how different the relationship is, and she finds true happiness. And that's it, the rest of the book is just the two of them together, having good times, using pet names, kissing and boob-touching, and there's no more conflict for twenty thousand words. Isn't that nice?
Of course I'm exaggerating. If I've done my job, the reader will be happy for Lara, but will read each page waiting for the other shoe to drop, dreading whatever is coming.
Which never really comes, does it? Somehow, I chickened out in having the ending I had intended. Guess I have gotten weak in my old age.
My alarm just went off, and it's now sixty degrees here in the cabin. I'll throw another log on and see if we can't get it up to seventy.
I discovered in the editing, that Brielle's dad doesn't even have a line in the book until Chapter 11 or 12. He's absent through the whole thing so far because he and her mother are splitting up. But I wanted to at least establish him, so I sat down just now and wrote a little bit where he tells Brent (her little brother) that he has to go to school (where he is bullied) because hard days make us appreciate the good days. It ended up being a two-birds-with-one-stone thing because I was also able to mention the bullies at school again, who we never see, because it's Brielle's story.
I've almost edited all the recorded chapters of the book, which means I'll have to do an Outcast episode next, or stop editing and write for a while. I really need to get on the horse and record multiple chapters for next week, which will certainly be the last time I get to be here for two nights instead of one. Maybe it'll be my last visit--my brother emptied the water from the upstairs toilet and sink and filled them with antifreeze, and there's only the one working toilet and sink down here now, in preparation for when we leave for the winter and the only way to come back here is via snowmobile (although I believe my uncle has skied in a time or two).
Oh, it's also the end of the month (today is my buddy Jeff's birthday), so I need to do a Patreon address where I look at the goals I set for October, and set new ones for November. Big A. said that I ought to alternate between doing one kind of exercise every other day if I really want to build up muscle (he explained how it works, and that you should focus on the legs one day and the arms the next), so I think I'll do push-ups every other day in November, and find something else in between.
Push-ups Today: 81 (whoops, I keep losing track of the number)
Push-ups In October: 1985
I was burning pages of an old magazine to get the fire started, and it had an interview with Brian Michael Bendis about writing Superman and Batman in it. He said a really odd thing: he said, "Batman thinks he's hilarious with wry humor. And the only person who thinks Batman is funny is Superman. I think Superman adores him; every word out of Bruce's mouth make Superman smile, and I love writing their dynamic."
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