NaNoWriMoCrocIt

       Linda O'Connell came up with the winning name. Her prize?  A vial of James Patterson's toe jam (certified, for certain). Lucky, lucky Linda.

     Her creative name is a nod to my favorite brand of shoes (only the ones that can be hosed off. Those fancy, frou-frou fleece-lined Crocs are an ugly smear on haut couture). It's also a nod to Miami Vice, an incredibly inane television show that so many of us watched--so many decades ago.

      I've decided to do NaNoWriMo this year, but since I am not starting from scratch and since there is no way in not-heaven I will add 50,000 more words to what I have so far, I needed a name. Maverick...Rebel... (which is what I was last year)...NaNoWriMoDoDo (that was another of my favorites).

      Renee Roberson told me to eat all the mashed potatoes I want. She also suggested I do NaNo, set a goal and broadcast it so I can't weasel out of it deftly sidestep it. 


     Okay. Pass the potatoes, and take a gander at my goal--15,000 words during the month of November. I figure that word count is better than a trickle of ink... and without the prod and prompting of NaNoWriMo, a pathetic trickle might be all I get.

     That's around 500 words a day. I'm hoping that's do-able.

                              "The Proclaimers" singing "500 Miles."
                              It's from one of my favorite movies--
                              "Benny and Joon."


       

Fierceness

      Sunday, I went with a group of women to a winery. Strangely, none in our group drank wine; we slurped up several bottles of sparkling grape juice, dipped up lots of hummus, nibbled on crackers and laughed and talked and chuckled.

This is the view we drank in all day...

In the foreground, you can see the flourishing vineyard...


We all met at one friend's house. Since I was the first one there, I had some time to sit and think and write. Although it's still quite rough, I jotted down these lines:

Women...
What is it?

When a gathering of women--
fierce women--
occurs,
the earth's axis
shifts a little
(in a crazy, Thelma and Louise way).

Onlookers hold their breath
and try to hold their tongues 
(in an attempt to still
the disapproving clucking).

Still others hold
their hands over their ears
as the women
laugh
and 
snort
and bandy around
bawdy talk.

Women...
What is it?

I wouldn't have it
any other way... 

What do you do when you carve out some time with your friends?