So my dryer wouldn’t start no matter what I set it too. Felt funny when I tried to choose a time etc. Hmmmmm. I tried to hope it would start up next time I needed it. That was tonight and my faith in mechanical things was dashed again, as always.

Hmmmm. I checked the fuses and everything seemed fine (wasn’t that smart of me, to check the fuses? hoping still that it wasn’t the dryer itself? LOL)

Fiddled with the knob thing again and thought, it just feels funny. Not resistant enough. I pull it off. And voila:

Yeah, that little break in the part that fits over the D-shaped shaft that actually turns the setting mechanism… that shouldn’t be there!

The Office of Letters and Light has a great blog post today offering thoughts and reasons for tackling NaNoWriMo even if you don’t think you can “win” by completing fifty thousand words in the thirty days that November offers.

First off, damn November for only having thirty days, right?

But as they say, even if you try to write more regularly or if you accomplish a small pile of words or if you write down the bones of a plot or think about some characters, you’re further ahead than if you hadn’t done anything. And although I suggested that not messing with a big guy with a big sword might be reason enough, the last reason Ari gives might be the best!

We all have our super secret spidey-magpie powers, but sometimes Sandy just trumps everyone else. A big lizard on a computer board? got it. A nest made of spoons? sure thing.

I’m not even sure how to look up stuff like that!

I want to just say
I want to say something now
something important.

I’m imagining
the new light walls growing ’round
peaceful and home.

Pal Naomi posted this to me on facebook and it’s WAY too good to let it slip away. Thanks!

Jack was copying his rough notes into the log book, and when he came to this triumphant entry he smiled. He was tempted to embellish it with an epithet or two – to add something about the feeble screech by way of a cheer when the gain of the first clear foot was reported – to describe the extraordinary change of spirit, the flood of new strength that sent the winches flying round, so that from having to encourage, threaten, beat or even cajole the exhausted hands, their officers had to restrain their zeal, for fear that the pump-chains would break or choke once again – to speak of the Christmas dinner (fresh pork and double plum-duff) eaten with such merriment in relays. But he knew that even if he could find words to describe this change, a log-book was not the place for them, and he contented himself with drawing a small pointing hand in the margin. –Desolation Island, Patrick O’Brian