A super cold spell is on the way down from Canada. The weather reporters have been gushing about it for days now. Supposed to bring temperatures in the teens and come in howling with 40 mph wind. Yesterday, I ran down to the feed store and bought two large bags of mulch and four of those new plant tarps made out of mesh cotton meant for covering entire flower beds. It got down to 31 degrees last night, ahead of the front, and I'm wishing I had laid the tarps out yesterday. I did get the most venerable plants mulched. I'd mulched them before the last big storm that came in at the beginning of December, but we've had so much rain most of the mulch had washed away or decomposed. Anyway, never can mulch too much, so I piled on more. I sure hope some of these plants make it through the winter. I'm still not certain about that but I keep treating them as if they're alive, and hopefully I'll be rewarded in the spring. The 8 bluebonnet seedlings are still alive down by the cattle guard. I even threw a little mulch out there, as well.
Meanwhile, I began building the greenhouse this past weekend. I got tired of waiting on the SO, and he obviously had no inclination to pitch in, so I just charged up the electric screwdriver, dug out the instruction manual, and dove in with both feet (to mix a metaphoric cliche). So far it's turned out to be a mostly painless venture. I have needed help from the SO twice, and only to brace something or give me a third hand. I've got the front and back completed, and the frame up on the sides and the roof gables. Today I'll tackle the roof vent. It's making me feel energetic and efficient but the truth is the instructions are detailed and clear so I am really just taking my time and reading each step thoroughly before I begin. Can't wait to get it finished and out of the garage. When my SO comes home on Thursday, I intend to have it done enough for us to carry the whole greenhouse out to the spot we've prepared for it beside the old dog pens. That's on the north side but we will place it so the shed housing the lawn mower will block the brunt of the wind.
I really hate it when he's gone, as he is this week on business. Not only do I miss our little routines -- reading the paper together and drinking our morning coffee, watching our silly game shows and then the nightly news in the evening, talking through supper -- I find both the cat and the dog get especially needy when it's just me here. They follow me around and vie for my attention. The cat will hardly move from beside my chair because he knows he can intimidate the dog into keeping her distance. I've got to go to town today, so they'll have to fend for themselves for a few hours and, hopefully, get along. It's like having two bratty kids!
Last night I ended up sitting in front of the television instead of working on my kid's book. There was a program on PBS about relationships and intimacy, and it hit a nerve with me so I stuck with it through two whole hours. I was probably procrastinating a little, too. I tend to do that when I'm not ready to fix something I've written. I still have it on my list to get the kid's book out in the world by the end of this week. I need to write a cover letter and that's always a difficult proposition for me.
Do I tell how I got the idea for the story, or do I just state my credentials and go with that? Not sure. Especially since I'll be sending the story along with the letter, rather than just querying. It seems kind of ridiculous to query a publisher when it doesn't take 5 minutes to read the entire manuscript, if that. I have been researching publishers and know enough not to send it to a house that clearly states they do not accept unsolicited stuff, or that they don't publish picture books. Which is what Workman says in their online submission guidelines. Too bad, since an imprint of theirs published my four novels, and since I know some of the editors there. In fact, on a trip to New York several years ago, they rolled out the red carpet for me when I called to say I was in town and staying down the street. They gave me a guided tour of the building and I even met Peter Workman himself. Of course, a history with a publisher doesn't guarantee acceptance anyway.
Frost has finally melted. I had better let the dog out before she pops. She's been patiently crossing her legs for over an hour.
Onward ....
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