A little stone word soup...

...is good for everyone.

This week is flying by at warp speed and I can't tell Scotty to back it off. Wouldn't help. Of course putting in a lot of extra hours to meet a personal goal and make sure I get my share of the work. The doctors have been taking it easy at the hospitals and not doing their work so it makes it tough getting my share of the work when there is little to share and lots of other people wanting to make sure they get a paycheck, too. But that's just the way life goes. So what if I have to work late at night. I get a whole lot more done because there are fewer things -- and people -- to distract me and demand my attention. So why am I writing in the middle of the night when I can't see more than the winking glitter of stars and the lighted eyes of some of the houses up and down the street? Because I'm waiting for work and I wanted to take a break. I'm not technically on the clock right now. I'm downloading work and there is no set schedule -- except the one I have to meet in the morning between 8 and 5. So I've nipped off here for a little pleasure writing.

The weather has been unpredictable and quixotic this week. Sunday it was warm and beautiful and full of the scent and color of spring, then Monday came. Monday was cold and windy with the bite of snow and ice in every gust. The beautiful tree next door with its strawberries-and-cream blossoms were ripped from their branches and flung everywhere. The few remaining yellow butterflies of forsythia clung and shivered in the onslaught, dropping their heads wearily in last night's brief dusting of snow. The pink blossoms looked as though they had given up the ghost and were sadly ragged and limp in the first flare of dawn. As the sun rose higher and the confectioner's sugar dusting on roofs melted and disappeared, the forsythia and strawberry-and-cream blossoms perked up and waved merrily from their precarious perches. The birds sang and the squirrels raced and chattered, plucking deep red berries from the trees. The mountains outside my sunroom window were brightly lit and solid once more, no longer hiding behind a thick soupy veil of fog and iron-gray clouds. Spring returned, but I won't wonder for how long.

I have lived here long enough to know that the weather is a fickle tease, first warm and inviting and then a howling frigid banshee next. My closet is not so full of clothing that I need worry about having packed away my sweaters, especially since I never know when I might need one -- like the past two days. All I need do is look out the windows or take a walk down to the park and I can bask in the wonder of Pike's Peak still clad in winter's ermine and know that whenever I need to cool off snow is not far away even in the blacksmith forge heat of summer.

I have also solved my problem with the local ham organization. I put in place a solid deadline and let the membership and board know that anything I receive after the deadline will be run in next month's issue, and there will be no exceptions. I also agreed to copy the president when I send the latest issue to the printer and to the webmaster to keep him from emailing me and asking when or if the deed was done. It was a small concession on my part, but I noticed that the president made sure I had his column today. I also had a flurry of articles and news items for the May issue, so things are definitely looking up. Everyone wants to see their words in print, which is a far cry from what I had been told before; past editors had to either generate copy or twist arms and sell babies to get copy. I'm sure the B word has passed through a few minds this past week, but I have been called worse -- and by family, too.

In the meantime, I've paid my bills, done some more editing, signed a few more contracts for freelance gigs that pay and am looking forward to painting this weekend -- and writing on my brand new laptop computer. Life is good even when sometimes I miss the bigger picture staring at the squashed bug in the lower right hand corner of the canvas. There is time for everything and I will eventually get to it all. I know that tomorrow is not guaranteed and that there will be things I didn't get to do when my time in this world ends, but I'm not worried. At least I'm enjoying my life, even the rough parts that remind me there is always sunshine and warmth after every howling ice- and snow-toothed storm.