We got antsy, and Your Sister can no longer be asked to walk four miles for half a pizza. The warmer weather allowed me to chisel out the car and drive her downtown for lunch and groceries. The shoveling took about a half hour. We returned home to more warm temperatures, and Your Sister was determined that the driveway be made passable for her car should she need to use it. Out we went to shovel and chop. We were at it for about 90 minutes, and she was careful, but busy. There are now tire ruts for her car, and half the driveway is now clear. Of course, more air junk is forecast to plummet this weekend. At least the shoveling gives me a fantastic workout. I am sore and tender today, and I didn't sleep well. But I look fabulous.
I mentioned yesterday that I signed up to create four pages for a medieval anthology. One of my shoveling brainstorms told me to consult Your Sister. You know, the one who studied medieval literature for four years. Then I wondered why we couldn't just write it together (defined this time by her doing the writing, and me acting as her art robot). It struck her as a pleasant notion at first. Then it became a definite idea: adapting a certain 9th century poem. I woke up this morning to find two pages of notes and a rough script.
She's started her first fiction story. It's an adaptation, yes, but it's a good start. She admitted the story is tumbling out of her, distracting her from sleep and school work. She's got the bug. I'll tread carefully in the process from scattered ideas to drawn panels, but we have two months, and she's already got her story skeleton. I also honed the bones for my superhero mini yesterday.
Lost comes back tonight, and I am wired for it. Mad, crazed, and enthused.
Picture of the Day
I discovered the paintings of Alyssa Monks. I now never want to paint again.