…you might kiss one.

A group of at least a dozen people stayed next door this past weekend. (Gary says they were likely Swedish because of the white caps and running about barefoot on the sand and even in the water in November.) They took over the depression where Gary had his fire last week and burned two thick root knots that he’d left, plus some purchased firewood. They did not burn the log they sat on in the evening, which is a blessing. Tourists tend to lay huge drift logs over their beach fires and then walk off when they discover that the log needs hours to burn. Thankfully these people had a nice-sized and perfectly legal fire and then put it out before going to bed. (Gary hoped they might leave the remains of their cedar kindling, but they didn’t. Did it go all the way back to Sweden?)

The wood chairs still need painting, but a plastic chair Gary rescued from the rocks where it had drifted on high surf last month can stay out all winter. You would have thought I could manage to paint those chairs over the summer, but it didn’t happen and they stay under cover till I get them done.

There are a lot of other things I did not get done in the past months. I meant to make my oldest granddaughter a cardigan and two dresses. What was I thinking? I have not sewn a garment in decades. But like most women of my generation, I learned how to sew in school. I made a pullover cotton shift in seventh grade and a wool skirt the next year. My mother hated to sew but she taught me too. The last garment I can remember sewing was pure cotton onesies four our youngest son born in 1982. American companies were not making cotton clothing for babies because of flammability issues. We neither of us smoked then or now, so I found a pattern and learned to machine-sew cotton double-knit jersey. Dark green with rainbow trim. Bright red. I don;’t suppose I even thought to take a picture, though I can picture them in my mind’s eye even now. But now I can find organic cotton for babies and children, which is even better.

I am over 12k (of 50k) on my NaNo challenge this morning, and I seem to be writing something unexpected. I meant to rewrite a very old manuscript, but instead I am writing something new. It’s true I am using the same principle character and I imported a few pages that I had already reworked over the years, but even without those pages, I am ahead of schedule.

The best part? I am not sure where this story is going. And maybe even better (so the best-best): it’s funny. I have not written funny in such a long time. I have been giving the chapters titles a la Forster such as “In which Alice tries to solver her personal problems with a hammer.” So that is happening. And barely into the fifth day of November.

A strawberry-frosted cake is tricky in November. She wanted fresh strawberries and I avoid them out of season. No avoiding them for my granddaughter. A light vanilla cake, though I am partial to and only experienced with pound cake. I made a run at three cake recipes and strawberry cream cheese frosting. That last was not a win, though it tasted good enough and was a pretty color. I ordered freeze-dried strawberries, organic freeze-dried strawberries. Powdered in the food processor, they are a rich color that thinned down to a pretty pink. (I mean to try Swiss buttercream as soon as I get my hands on the right sort of instant-read thermometer.)

There is a cake in the fridge. Two pounds of out-of-season organic berries. I had dreams last night about making cake.

Gary and I both had a sore throat and sinus issues, but we seem to be better now. Our sore throats completely gone, no fever ever. I had to put off baking the final birthday cake till yesterday when I knew I was healthy again. Took my time. Photos later.