Tick tick
Um, otherwise how are things?
It's been a busy weekend. The church choir I'm in did evensong tonight; so lots of special music (that can't be used liturgically any other time) to learn. We did Stanford in B-flat and a setting by John Sheppard of In Manus Tuas (one of at least four I'm aware of). I love Sheppard; it's just so English, and a generation before Tallis (two before Byrd).
It was rainy on Saturday, so we mostly stayed in. The carpenter came to point at stuff and finalize his plans for a permit application. He'll be rebuilding our back porch, pretty soon. It was raining while we talked to him. Then in the afternoon, a choir rehearsal, during which the rain ended, and it suddenly got warm.
Sunday was wonderful, weather-wise. We brought in a bunch of patio furniture and emptied the rain barrel, and brought that in. Early afternoon was occupied with writing. Then Evensong, then a relaxing evening. Toxicfur says she loves to cook, and mostly I believe her, but sometimes it feels like I'm not pulling my weight if she's cooking and I'm not doing much.
Anyway, the writing. The last novel I wrote goes along pretty nicely (if I may say so) for 3/4 or so of the book, and then gets weird, for no reasons that follow in any kind of obvious way from the first part. So I figured maybe I'd start more or less there and re-imagine the latter part. The deal with NaNoWriMo, for those both of you who don't already know, is you write a (new) novel of 50,000 words entirely within the month of November. I'm ignoring the (new) bit. Done it before; may well do it again. So sue me.
It's been a busy weekend. The church choir I'm in did evensong tonight; so lots of special music (that can't be used liturgically any other time) to learn. We did Stanford in B-flat and a setting by John Sheppard of In Manus Tuas (one of at least four I'm aware of). I love Sheppard; it's just so English, and a generation before Tallis (two before Byrd).
It was rainy on Saturday, so we mostly stayed in. The carpenter came to point at stuff and finalize his plans for a permit application. He'll be rebuilding our back porch, pretty soon. It was raining while we talked to him. Then in the afternoon, a choir rehearsal, during which the rain ended, and it suddenly got warm.
Sunday was wonderful, weather-wise. We brought in a bunch of patio furniture and emptied the rain barrel, and brought that in. Early afternoon was occupied with writing. Then Evensong, then a relaxing evening. Toxicfur says she loves to cook, and mostly I believe her, but sometimes it feels like I'm not pulling my weight if she's cooking and I'm not doing much.
Anyway, the writing. The last novel I wrote goes along pretty nicely (if I may say so) for 3/4 or so of the book, and then gets weird, for no reasons that follow in any kind of obvious way from the first part. So I figured maybe I'd start more or less there and re-imagine the latter part. The deal with NaNoWriMo, for those both of you who don't already know, is you write a (new) novel of 50,000 words entirely within the month of November. I'm ignoring the (new) bit. Done it before; may well do it again. So sue me.
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