a relaxing evening

Tonight has been quite productive. In regards to writing, I finished piecing together the hard-copy of Book One's second rough draft. It's quite professional, and through a service-provider, I'll have it in my hands within the next couple weeks for a cheap fee of $11.00 (plus shipping and handling, of course). It'll be much easier for me to read and edit in different places, where creativity may not be so stifled; and I'll be able to take pens and highlighters and maim the hell out of it. I also finished revising the second chapter in Book Two; and I've decided to add an extra chapter to bring together some loose ends and closure following the events in the first chapter. It should be short but sweet. I'll probably hammer it out tomorrow after work. 

The rest of the evening has been spent watching tv, drinking beer--Killian's Irish Red is always a good choice--and reading by the fireplace. I'm reading McCarthy's "Sutree," and again and again I marvel at the way McCarthy can describe scenes with such eloquence, detail, and brevity that the picture literally opens up in the mind's eye, a picture one could hardly fathom. He is certainly a writer to be envied; but alas, I am better at short and succinct prose, in the footsteps of Hemingway, and perhaps there I shall stay (though McCarthy acknowledges that Hemingway is one of his role models as well). I have a headache, so I'm going to chug some Nyquil and wind down. It's my drug of choice. 

It rained today.

Most of the snow is gone.

It's good to see the grass again.

But our snowball will definitely be here a while.

It's a nasty thing, embedded with gravel and dirt and broken leaves.

Quite the lawn ornament.