You can try to avoid grief, and push it back, but it remains, fixed, immutable. How you talk to it is about all the control you have, like trying to reason with a drunk.
To paraphrase the poet Leonard Cohen, there are cracks in this pandemic, where the light is creeping through. At least I hope so. The days lengthen. March 14 looms as the date Daylight Savings spring ahead. A snow moon, I just discovered, peaks this very weekend, bathing the land in light as bright as day, but more potent. I have gone through a hard-working week, editing this bear fiction anthology, further learning the fundamentals of The Chicago Manual of Style (CMoS, for us pros), the handyman and his crew working here most days to fix the interior wall of the master bedroom and the causal ice damming on the roof and the broken dry wall resulting from water leaking through into the furnace room. I have almost successfully organized most days, due to pulling up on my evenings a little. The three P’s are still in play, like trickster constellations. Being incommunicado after my annual conversation with someone, a friend - well, much more than a friend, actually - of years ago,
Just had a crisis-laden weekend with a lost day of work, virulent politic arguments, clogged toilets, car troubles, and reneged business deals. In the end, we agreed to disagree with a parent who thought that the there was no problem in peaceful protests before the Antifa people provoked peaceful religious protestors; then added that there were no problems in the America before the “Black Lives Matter people” started causing problems (to be clear-these are both arguments we violently oppose). We took the plunge and cleared out the ceramic problem; and took our toys from an Ottawa Honda Dealer to another sandbox, Cornwall Honda, and traded in our vehicle for a new ride. We were in the market to do so, with a growing family. The trusty 2005 Honda Civic, having served us well for just over 13 years, had a broken thermostat but it was time, just the same, to say goodbye.
Made it to my desk by 8:38 A.M. - a new record! Heard from a friend who I am technically not supposed to be talking to, on account of history. Think Tom Cochrane’s song, “No Regrets”, and I will leave it at that. Props to her for being sensible in spite of our naughty past. We talk to each other now as if we are holding our breath sometimes. We are all too aware that sharing little fantasies with each other is rather distracting. It is still slow-going on editing the anthology of bear fiction, but I am finding I am learning so much and this is the fun of the work for me. That, and finally getting to discuss my burning editing questions. How do you consistently use em dashes? No spaces, either side. i.e.: This is the way—which I really people understood—that em-dashes should be used all the time. Is the word ‘king’ capitalized? Only when using a surname; otherwise it is lower-cased. i.e.: “King Edward” versus “The king entered the room.” Exceptions to this rule include Duke whic
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