K.E. Skedgell

I t has been nearly three weeks since my last post. Nothing of any merit has happened since then. I've been outside digging my mother's yard for the last couple of weeks in preparation for the plants I'll be bringing up here from Ohio next weekend, assuming the weather cooperates. Speaking of weather, this has been one cold, wet, nasty spring up here in Michigan. Welcome back home, my home state says, enjoy all the cold and rain and yuck. Rivers and lakes are flooding all around, some of the worst around the Grand Rapids area. Low lying areas around here are underwater, the ground is just so saturated that it can't hold anymore. Except for my mom's yard. It's a sandy loam soil, so it drains really well, which will be good for my plants and will be quite the opposite of which they are growing in now, poorly draining clay loam. On the writing front, sadly, not much has been done. I've barely started my second pass of edits (I decided to make a third draft...

I swear, my cat has some sort of mental connection to me, because every time, or nearly every damn time I open one of the documents to my novel to start working on it, Biggie has to make a pain in the ass of himself. As of typing this, he is sitting on my lap content, but usually he can't just sit on my lap like a good kitty, he has to pull on the zippers of my jacket, he has to get up and stand in-between me and the computer, making sure his fluff tail is in my face, rub his face on the corner of my desk and give it a bite for good measure. If I don't allow him on my lap, he tries to get on my desk where he and the other cats aren't allowed, or bite my foot or chew on my peace lily or do something else naughty just for the attention. It isn't that the cat never gets attention, he gets plenty of it. He just decides the best time to do it is when I'm trying to work, or trying to sleep. He's cute, he's fluffy, and he has no shame exposing his fluff to th...