Learn something new every day

So every now and then, I hear the song "25 or 6 to 4" on the radio. It makes no sense.

Today, I found out the title is "Twenty-five, or -six, to four" and it's a time, not odds. The song is about writer's block around 3:30 in the morning.

Waiting for the break of day
Searching for something to say
Flashing lights against the sky
Giving up I close my eyes
Sitting cross-legged on the floor
Twenty-five, or -six, to four

Staring blindly into space
Getting up to splash my face
Wanting just to stay awake
Wond'ring how much I can take
Should I try to do some more
Twenty-five, or -six, to four

Feeling like I ought to sleep
Spinning room is sinking deep
Searching for something to say
Waiting for the break of day

Been there more than a few times.

Round up and planning for the week ahead

Obi is off to Korea, by way of Fort Hood. Hermes Diaktoros, guide, messenger and minister, go with him.

Jonner is out of school. There is stuff to do around here this summer, including studying for the ACT. He took it and only scraped a 22. There will be reading and literary analysis and practice tests.

Oli has two more sessions.

I have to go to work. This is less fun than it sounds since my mouth STILL hurts and wearing both plates gets uncomfortable within a few hours. (For those tuning in late, I had my last 12 teeth pulled on Monday. Under a local)

Any last minute work that needs doing for the craft fair. Magnets and such.
Otherwise, I am finishing up the edits of Terror and submitting it. And writing a couple of shorts.

It was a weekend of some small expense. Our housephone gave up the ghost. As did our lawnmower (second hand, bought 17 years ago) So, Jonner is out with the new mower tackling the back yard before the storms come.

Yesterday, I assembled a lawnmower, moved an extra child out, went to work, came home and sorted out a new TV stand, and nearly finished editing Terror. It was a full Saturday.

Six Sentence Sunday

From today's editing:

He shook Edward, hard enough to lift his shoulders from the sleeping bag. “Wake up, love. The war is over. It's over out here!”

Charlie ducked a badly aimed right hook and listened to Edward swear in words he had never believed his lover capable of using. He missed seeing the left hand that seized his throat and pinned him on his back, beneath the not-waking Edward.