I went out into the garden this morning to see if the tomatoes were doing anything. The plant looks like it's giving up so I was thinking I'd uproot it but then I looked at the fruits and they're changing color. I'll keep an eye on the nighttime temperature and bring them in if it gets near to freezing.
Dad's roses are putting on a show. I looked out the window and saw about six of them blooming away. Thanks, Dad!
I finished the Brangelina hat this afternoon and it's huge. HUGE! I'm going to wash and dry it to see if that helps. I'm sure there will be someone it'll fit but I don't remember the ones I made before turning out like this. I don't think I'd have made more if they did. Maybe it was the needles. Nah, must be the yarn. Couldn't be the operator.
24 September--Barbara Malcolm, Better Than Mom's.
Telling Fay his pen name and letting her see what he was writing worked a rapid change in Steve. Within a couple weeks he was sitting with the coffee codgers a time or two each week and had told them all what he wrote.
“My wife is your biggest fan,” Elmer said. “She’s got all of the Layne Wilcox books lined up on her bookshelf. She didn’t believe me when I told her that the real Layne Wilcox is a retired guy living in Stinson.” He fumbled a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Uh, can I have your autograph for her?”
Steve smiled, “Sure,” he said and signed the scrap of paper ‘Best wishes, Layne Wilcox.’ “I’m talking with my publisher about coming out and owning my books. I’m getting tired of hiding behind that pen name. I’m starting a detective series too and plan to publish them under my real name so once the first of those books is out and, hopefully, successful, I’ll let the cat out of the bag, so to speak.”
Raymond always had an opinion about everything and as Steve’s ex-boss he felt it was his duty to say what he thought. “Don’t you think everybody will think you’re a pansy for writing all that sappy love crap? My wife read those books too and they’re nothing a real man would want to read.”
Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so, Raymond. Layne gets lots of fan mail from men and not pansies either, real men that like the exotic locales and the adventures the main characters get into. Besides I don’t care if people think I’m a pansy, just as long as they keep buying the books, I’m happy.” He looked down the line of codgers. “But I’ll still be Stevie the scribbler here.”
Everybody laughed, except Raymond.
Today's toss was a half dozen old, dried out stick deodorants and a bunch of boxes from old computers, etc. that were on a shelf downstairs. Durwood always insisted that we keep the boxes of things like computers or speakers. I don't know why, we never needed to return any of them. But if we did we had the original boxes, manuals, and receipts. Sheesh.
All I did today was knit and empty the dishwasher. I watched the first episode of Call the Midwife on Netflix. A friend recommended it after my Downton Abbey marathon. I think I might like it.