I Hear The Train A-Comin' . . .

Just two items today, since I'm pushing up against the craft sale deadline here, one of the items making up the choo-choo of frantic activity in which I am engaged each year from September to December.

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First, a blogging problem.

I am a procrastinator, although I try to counteract that by using schedules and deadlines. Knowing this, I decided when I started this blog to have a set posting schedule here, too. Mondays and Fridays are my days to post. I'm pleased to say I've never missed one.

But last Monday's post, although written and published, didn't reach some of you who have kindly signed on to receive my drivel automatically. I noticed on a number of blogs--those with a sidebar showing the most recent post--that it had not appeared. On further checking with a friend, this sad fact was confirmed.

I'm not sure what the problem was; it might have been that I edited a couple of errors in the post immediately after it published. I don't know how these things work. Does it take some time for the post to make its way around the world? Are the internet's series of tubes clogged?

If my editing wasn't the issue, I fear there may be a problem with my Blogger account.

Has this ever happened to you?

Anyway, if it's Monday or Friday and you haven't received my post, there's a jagged fracture (or a huge clog, same result) in the internet, or in the blogging world, or at least in my Blogger account. You can always check my blog directly to find the post instead:
https://procrastinatingdonkey.blogspot.ca/

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And I want to recommend a book I just finished. It's not a recent one, and it was much acclaimed when it was published (and also won the Pulitzer Prize for Biography/Autobiography), so perhaps you've heard of it: The Year of Magical Thinking, by Joan Didion. It tells the story of the first year after the sudden death of Didion's husband. For more, you can go HERE.

I knew this would happen. As soon as I want to talk about a book I've read, I run out of words. Seriously, my word bank just dries up. This is why I don't write reviews. But the link above will cover the material in the book nicely. And I really only wanted to add that I found it very moving, I found it very familiar (grief is grief, no matter what relationship is under discussion), and I felt relieved--as I tend to do--to find out I was not alone in my reactions to grief.

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And why was I reading when I have a craft sale deadline? Because procrastination, that's why.



That's it, plus a picture:

This dear little deer was caught on camera looking in our basement window last week. It was one of two fawns who, with their mother, were having a snack in our back yard in broad daylight.

Happy weekend, all!