ambitious_wench

Weather: Sunny today, rainy yesterday. Odd, when I take my walks, I think off all sorts of journal entries--topics profound, erudite, interesting. I note things. I try to remember them to write about them. And mostly I forget. However, I remember two things from my walks this week. Early this week we had a goodly amount of snow, and as a result, the phallic mushrooms were history. Or so I thought. I mean, they truly are delicate things in the end, aren't they? Mushrooms, that is, not phalli. The rain we had over the last few days has washed way the blanket of snow. On my walks the last two days, I have noted that not only are those same mushrooms still there, but there seems to be more growing!

Why am I, a lesbian, so engrossed in phallic mushrooms? Hell if I know. I am not that fond of mushrooms, to begin with. I suppose it goes back to those god-awful "Broiled in Butter" canned bits of vulcanised rubber my mother used to serve.

I suppose that we could extrapolate out to the ridiculous regarding the inherant phallic implications of mushrooms and my sexual orientation, as well. But we won't, will we? :::arch eyebrow::: Good.

Oh, the other thing I remembered from my walks: There is a longish curving road downhill to get to the building where I work, and I make a point of climbing it on my walks. It has been strewn with sand for traction in the snowy conditions we had prior to the rain, and now the snow is gone. That leaves the sand, and the rainwater coursing downwards.

The sand is flowing into patterns according to the path of the water down the curving road. I am reminded of feathers, flames and chevrons. A runnel of water will carve a path to the blacktop beneath the off-white sands, and as the path grows, it conjoins with another runnel further down the road, maybe a few inches.

I like seeing the patterns shift through the day.

Well, I have gotten a response to my email for the Chorale. I will be notified of auditions. I just said to Techi that I am looking forward to auditioning. I worry though because I work late at night, and even if I am offered a place in the chorale, I may not be able to take it because of work. I want to sing. I want to be part of a group.

I also want to get beck into horseback riding. Yes, English, with those AWESOME boots. :::grin::: and jodphurs. And riding crops. And quirts. And stirrups. I'm thinking the spring, perhaps? Be a good way to find a source of manure for my garden, too.

I'm editing my NaNoWriMo novel, too. Just spell checking it, at this point. And removing the filler bits, the padding I added to make 50,000 words. SCAScot, yes, I am feeling guilty. Next year, however, I won't have to resort to that. I will become The Hermit, and I will not let myself be distracted from my novel. Honest.