You know, we just didn't have anything to say yesterday, weird, we know. What did you people want? Updates on the debt ceiling kabuki? More pointless nostalgia? Dispatches from Israel?
And it was a travel day. We listened to Spanish CDs on the way up. We're not optimistic. Hoblo un poco Espanol.
The water here on the lake is still bitterly cold (64 degrees last night) so there's no swimming. But we did get out on the boat in the afternoon and evening.
The basement, which longtime reader(s) will recall had a mold problem, has been remediated and restored with a new vinyl slate floor. Seriously, we peeled back the carpet and a frog jumped out. That wasn't cheap. It was cold down there last night. Welcome to the country, as our grandmother would say.
We enjoyed a pint of Moat Mountain Czech Pilsner, which we've been looking forward to for eight months. We inquired with our local proprietor of distilled spirits about special ordering more beer from the Moat Mountain brewery in New Hampshire.
The things.
We read about half of World War 1990: The Final Storm. Is this half good? It's good enough, we know that. We're entering don't let the perfect be the enemy of the good territory.
We worked on World War 1990: Norway this week. 9,000 words. So far so good as we write the Battle of Banak chapter. We did some thinking about characters and pretty much have General Alexandre Lebed worked out. We're working on some more Soviet VDV types. Things are going great (what's the next line, Gen-Xers?).
Anyway, we've got to make a run to the dump, do some light gardening, etc. etc.
Until they weren't
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