Robin McKinley's Blog, page 200

Ta Da

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not a Good Day

 

So it's all little stuff.  Little stuff accumulates.

           It started last night, of course, my bad days almost always do start the night before.*  Yesterday may have been the hellhounds' birthday, but the champagne** was preceded by practise at Colin's tower and . . . we stank.  We metaphorically ingested abhorrent substances.  We performed unnatural acts upon the bodies of previously living donkeys.  It was bad.  My only comfort, such as it is, is that mayhem was general:  I may have been

Happy Birthday

 

. . . hellhounds! 

 

They're three years old today which in the usual dog/human age equation means they are twenty-one.  They are officially adults.  Snork.  That explains why every morning they plunge down the cottage steps like mad things, Darkness in Must Bark mode and Chaos in Must Bite Something mode.  After these little issues have been dealt with* they prance beside me, taking turns to drop briefly behind and goose me sharply.  Growling may accompany this behaviour, as Chaos generally grow

Three Weddings and Some Gardening

 

If it were possible to become ever so slightly weary of pulling on a bell rope—I say if it were possible—I might be approaching that point.  Although it's not the ringing that's the problem, of course, it's the context.  Yesterday's first wedding in Old Eden ran nearly on time—how did that happen?—but we still had to race back to New Arcadia for the second one.*  And the second one did what weddings usually do, which is go on and on and oooooooon.   There was at least a floor show—two little fl

Guest blog by B-Twin

When Robin first mentioned that she was hoping to have a few more guest blogs to help lessen the workload now that PEGASUS has decided to go on a Take No Prisoners Rampage I felt quite confident.  After all, I have a farm.  There is always something to talk about.  (And yes, I talk to the sheep, horses and dogs an awful lot!  Haha)  But then I was caught.  Yikes.  What do I talk about?  However, Robin being Robin she had a sneaky plan* which, quite frankly, ranks fairly high on the Tricksy Evil

Double or nothing

 

Today has been better.  We withdraw, cautiously, and no doubt temporarily,* from the ungleblargs.  Whew.**  All praise and acclaim, not to the evil ME gods which are, of course, evil, but to the Special Ops fairies who performed a daring raid on ME headquarters in the dead of night*** and broke me out.  Would that I needed their gallant assistance a little less often.

            And so I have of course been scampering around today because I can.†  And I went to bell ringing practise tonight.  T

Ungleblarg, continued

 

Third day.  This is booooooring.* 

* * *

 Disturbing encounters in the company of hellhounds:

            Encounter number one:  This evening we were boiling along in pursuit of a strolling family:  mum, dad, two ambulant offspring and a blob in a pushchair.  As we steamed up behind them, the dad looked over his shoulder and then shepherded the rest to one side, so we could bomb past.  Well, most of the rest:  he, mum, pushchair, and little boy moved hastily to the left.  Medium sized girl moved t

Ungleblarg*

The ME has been an ungleblarg** for two days now.  I managed to stave it off a little bit yesterday because I wanted to go to my voice lesson*** but when the adrenaline of that encounter wore off I was a jellyfish.†

            I've been squashy, semi-transparent and tentacled†† all day today.  So let's have a recipe.  The blueberry season is starting over here.  I've done my moan about domestic English blueberries as compared to wild Maine blueberries before.  But even fat slow mild-mannered Eng

Rats, ratbags, and singing

blondviolinist wrote: 

'You say you know a lot about your characters but you haven't a story yet. Please write down this information and arrange to have it published posthumously so we the readers can have some closure and we can't bug you for more.'

Not that it's any of my business, but I *really* hope you don't do this. The times I've seen this done, the results have reminded me of the leftover heap in Dr. Frankenstein's workroom: plot ankle sticking out here, characterization arm hanging out th

Mind boggling

It was supposed to be a good day.*  I was supposed to ring Kent again tonight. 

            And then Darkness could hardly get outdoors fast enough this morning for geysering purposes.**  Oh gods.  Chaos managed to hang on till we went out on our walk and then . . . squirt.   Oh.  Gods. ***

            But even so.  Usually when we have a spasm of spurting, it's quite dramatic for the duration of one walk, and having shot the offending substance (?)† through the system, by next walk they're solidi