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Journeyman

it came out of the wordwork

Friday and other moods
redster
kinzel
We've had a very odd few days -- a Friday run to the zoo -- except the zoo was so crowded they had no parking... and thus a visit to York Beach and environs, and a day with multiple picnic meals and a lot of driving around in Sharon's recently repaired Binjali-mobile...and we arrived home to find what I figure was the last day lily bloom of the year for us had blossomed after 9:30 in the morning, so we'd almost missed it entirely. Ah, but it was red and lovely in the sunset. Next year, perhaps, I'll move about half of the bulbs to the other side of the property to better share them with the world. Thank you for the show, flowers.

The day itself, on Friday, was a good day, with the saltwater of York Beach happy to serve up a pre-storm breeze redolent with the proper coastal scents. The walk was good, and we discovered new stores and new places to visit, and walked several beaches... a good day, but not the expected.

So, in working on the editorial changes we discover that my local working copy of the script we sent to Baen has become magnificently borked, with !sudden!new!odd! spacing, random word destruction ... almost like one of those old Microsoft macro-bombs had gotten loose.
I *think* it was over use of a search and replace term.  I hope.

But, we move on, and that works goes on.  It needs done soon, not only for editorial reasons, but because of change. 

Elsewhere,it turns out,  the world is complicated -- and change is.  And so, intimations of major change as my stepfather has been falling, usually with cuts and bruises.  This happens almost daily, it seems to me as I get the news late, and from different sources. It is to sigh, and to hope that a bad fall is not the order of the day, every day.

Finally it becomes clear, the fact that the old homestead, with all of the charming spaces of a house built in the '40s, the twisty staircases, the french doors with all that glass, the stairs up from the concrete patio, the wide concrete sidewalk inexorably leading down the hill (who knew *that* hill was dangerous?, that it could make someone unsteady begin to walk a littrle fast, and then to run and then fall when the stroke-slowed legs couldn't keep up? ) to the driveway, is a danger, to those within.

And oh, the hallways and the bathroom and the stairs are, it becomes clear, too narrow to update properly, perhaps too narrow even to turn a walker safely, the walls too load-bearing to just tear out to make rooms more amenable to new conditions....and the extra narrow basement stairs with the too-short treads, with a threatening single old-style handrail, those stairs between the fusebox and the folks who need the power 24/7 is inconvenient.

Even the bookcases, built lovingly floor to ceiling and still filled with the books we all read, are a danger to an unsteady old soul who might grab on and find a shelf throwing encyclopedias instead of offering stability....even the bookcases, I say, are no longer a comfort to my mother or my stepfather.

Dunno. Maybe a trip to Maryland in the near-to-mid term, as change is embraced, or at least acknowledged.