Belting it Out

[rolanni]

Had another raft of errands to run after the gym thing today. You'd think, living retired in the country like we do, that we'd hardly ever need anything in town.

Hah.

Hah, I say.

Today, it was banking stuff -- money from this account to go over to the tax account, and checks with the new!improved! address to order from that bank and so on. While I was there, I took my phoenix-buckled belt to Babe's Leather to have more holes punched in it.

The owner of Babe's -- whose name is Howard, not Babe -- justly admired the buckle -- made out of ceramic, it's been with me longer than Steve has, which makes it upwards of thirty years. Three belts this buckle has worn out! But I digress.

The buckle duly admired, Howard checked the length, and decided to cut four inches off instead of punching new holes. Fine by me. He got to work and we chatted. Turns out he's a science fiction reader and a dragon freak -- for much the same reason I am: Born in a year of the dragon. In fact, the same year of the dragon.

While we were talking, Peg Pellerin, commander of the local Trek club, came in to pick up a repair and joined the conversation. Instant con! Then my belt was done, I put it on, gave Howard the three-fifty he thought the job was worth and headed off to the post office.

Back home at last, I caught up on email, shared lunch with Steve when he came home from shopping - it's being quite a week for new jeans around here -- did some writing business and then settled down to the business of writing.

The words flowed a little more smoothly today, as I was working with characters I already know. Seven hundred words on the day, and a nice bit of scene-setting, too.

Time for quit and go read for a while.

Comments

[rolanni.livejournal.com]

The Town has been promising to come into 911 compliance since we moved here -- a little over twelve years ago. Since it was an unfunded Federal initiative and the Town hates to spend money, they had a college intern work on the project during hisorher summer vacations. A series of college interns, I'd imagine, considering the time it took. So now we have an actual street address instead of route-and-box-number. Federal Express Ground can no longer refuse to deliver packages to us on the grounds that we have an "illegal address." They now need to find another reason.