January 26th, 2004

serious Oracle

egads, this grown up stuff is scary!

Don and I have an appointment with a realtor on Saturday. Yup, we're looking to buy a house. The area we're looking in would make Don's commute to the city longer. We'd need a second car, as well. Our credit is okay, but not brilliant. It would be closer to faire. Farther from NYC rehearsal spaces, naturally (both for Faire and for the Pirates). My commute to the bookstore would probably make it pointless for me to keep that job. I'd have to find work closer to home, as 'twere.

But... but... but.....

The area we are looking in is so blasted beautiful. Trees, fields, huge rolling hills. A lovely little artisan's community only minutes away. Easy access to the farm the joust horses board at during the rest of the year. And maybe, just maybe someone will want to publish my book. I know that doesn't mean I can live off what I make as a writer, not immediately. But it would be a start, and certainly give me hope that I should keep writing.

I know I'm rambling. Panic is warring with excitement, and my monthly bout with hormones is spiking the extreme ends of those emotions.
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    'The Secret Garden,' orig. B'way cast
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serious Oracle

panic makes for a productive kel

I just cleaned out my pantry, and took the garbage out.

I sorted the recycling, fed the kitties and put away most of the groceries.

I'm going to go get on the treadmill for half an hour, but before I do that I am going to fold laundry.