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16 October 2009 @ 07:45 pm
I'm still too scattered for a full LJ post, with paragraph breaks and proper grammar and spelling. It's wild times here at Kelly's LJ, and no mistake!

Today is October 16th, which means yesterday was October 15 - when it snowed. A lot. Sort of a big deal for my neck o' the woods. Between that and the narrow brown bands on our local wooly bears, I'm thinking this winter is going to be ever so snowy...

... so it's a good thing we finally got our delivery of firewood! A goodly amount isn't quite as seasoned as we'd like, but it's here and waiting to be carted over to the woodshed for last minute splitting (for those unwieldy bits) and stacking (it's like Jenga - IN REVERSE!). There's about four cords' worth, and since Don is stuck working this weekend (not even from home; he has to trek into NYC), I'll be doing a whole lot of hauling.

Did I mention it snowed yesterday? 'Cause there's still a whole lot of activity in the cricket and spider communities. Not that it stopped me from shifting the old woodpile today. Okay, it totally did. I shrieked and ran, hands flapping uselessly. The big stuff I can deal with. Little leaping/crawling/scuttling things? Thanks, but NO.

In keeping with the 'it's getting chilly here' theme, HT has come to a decision. When he was still outdoors, he'd curl up on my lap and burrow his head into whatever oversized fleece or flannel thing I was wearing. Once we brought him in, he eschewed laps altogether... until yesterday. He'd hopped up on my desk and was mid-trek to the top of the bookcase when he stopped, looked at me, and considered. Then, he stepped down and curled his enormous, solidly muscled frame onto my lap. I sat, stunned. He butted his head against my arm to let me know the skritching could commence. I'd call it an anomaly, but he did it again today. It's all kinds of fun to watch him try to fit himself onto the available lap space. Tom is one big cat.

Right, then. Off to get a fire going in the woodstove. 'Cause it's getting chilly here. And I have firewood to burn.
Kelladyjoust on October 17th, 2009 02:25 am (UTC)
Nothing conclusive, but it's something.

On a related note, each time I go to the Museum of Natural History, I ache to approach TPTB and tell them that my Granddad was a curator of Entomology, that my Grams worked there as a teacher (and that's how they met), that my dad grew up running around the deserted halls on the off hours, just to see if they'll give me a behind the scenes tour. And I always chicken out. I'm so lame.