First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But, ah, my foes, and oh, my friends
It gives a lovely light!

Edna St. Vincent Millay

This summarizes quite well the lunacy being enacted as I write now. I am stretched beyond words (physically, that is), but I can’t want to go to bed. After I post this I will be working on my novel until I can’t see straight or until Jay comes in from the garage. Which ever happens first.

Currently he is disassembling his baptized snowmachine. Snowmobile, for you non-Alaskans. (Though he did get a nice picture of the freshly changed headlight fluid first.) He says he wants to get the engine to turn over before he comes to bed. I have prayed. And now my thoughts are too thick.

I learned in November I can still write in this mind-state though.

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