It would appear that I've managed to survive Friday the 13th, 2012 edition, without any muss or fuss, even though I spent an hour out in the back yard this morning wielding a sharp lopper in order to trim a couple of trees. One of them is a maple that appeared the first summer I lived here and has grown steadily since. Want to talk about bad luck, though? That tree has been hit by lightning at least three times. Once, according to the cable repairman, the tree transferred the lighting to the ground where it hit the buried cable and traveled to the little box on the outside of the house, frying it. The good luck part of the story is that the junction box is less than a foot from the air conditioner, which was unharmed.
Thankfully, I'm not paraskevidekatriaphobic (that's a morbid fear of Friday the 13th). My claustrophobia is enough to handle on any given day. Nor am I afraid of a black cat crossing my path. My beloved Max lived for nineteen and a half years (and one day) and I'm sure if there were anything to that old saw, it would have come up.
Some people are afraid of the world coming to an end in 2012. I'll probably be too busy to notice, or will have my nose in a book, an afghan-in-progress or puttering in the garden.
Besides, if you saw the movie 2012, you know that the world didn't technically come to an end. The survivors took an ark to a mountaintop where they probably survived by running internal combustion engines until their gas supplies ran out, and then throwing their trash overboard without recycling it.
At last Saturday's CFRW meeting we talked about our writing goals for the new year. One of mine was to blog more. Another was to write each day, Monday through Friday. As my to-be-read pile reaches the three foot mark, I think I'll be setting aside weekends for some good reads.
Happy writing (and reading).
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