Saturday starts with errands.  I’m off to the farmer’s market, just a short distance from where George Washington himself stayed over on his travels to Washington DC.  I manage to lose my shopping list ten minutes into the farmer’s market—who picks up a piece of paper and takes off with it?!

Since I still have the grocery store to do, I opt to return and check my original list.  When I picked the three recipes, I wrote ALL the ingredients on a master list, then identified what I had and what I didn’t.  So I rebuild the list for the grocery store.

When I return, I chat with my neighbor about politics.  There’s not many people you can talk politics with at all.  We stay at the high-level view—not the right or wrong of sides, but what makes a leader…are politicians leaders (automatically, no, though they may think they are.  Big difference)…government shut down (it is the primary industry where I live)…and how no one can even talk to each other anymore. 

I zoom off to grab lunch from a restaurant since it is such a gorgeous day out and watch the dogs from the patio.  Always a fun activity.  Then I stop for an aromatherapy massage.

Since then, I’ve been pretty mellow and pretty unmotivated.  Takes me a while to get on the cycling.  And it hits me that I’m striving had too many new details, which is triggering that pesky inner critic.  Story is good enough as is.  Just have to clean up the clusters of crutch words.  Once I realize that, I zoom through three chapters.

And I stop at a point where I do need to add more detail.  There’s a science fiction con.  We must have more than one costume described.  Cons, fandom, fans are a tag in the story.   So I mark my place and sign off to think about it.