Belated Last-weekend-was-awesome post

So... Last weekend was awesome.

I feel guilty about that, because I still miss Drake. It's hard to even look at his things without sniffling. But this weekend was still really good, and I think that's okay.

First: there was a small wine festival about 40 minutes out of town (At the local ski resort, which was clever of them). We drank lots of wine and had lots of fun and bought a couple bottles - and I may not be allergic to goat wool!

We stopped on the way home at our favorite bulk store, got roast beef and cheese and pasta, and stopped at two plant stores and the beer store for plants and olive oil, then came home to a dinner of shrimp with olive oil, blue cheese crumbles, tomato and pasta. Nom.

Between Saturday and Sunday, we planted acorn squash, leeks, leeks, leeks, flowers, and two raspberry bushes, worked on the dresser, weeded,... oh, yeah, planted peas... and generally spent a lot of time outdoors playing in the yard. Awesome weekend. Absolutely awesome.

Small Victories, a continuation of #Addergoole Yr14 for the (April) Giraffe Call (@Rix_Scaedu)

After Problem-Solving, for rix_scaedu's commissioned continuation.


Fuchsia had never expected things with Pepper to improve overnight. It was a good thing, too, because they were doing anything but.

They were - kind of - getting better. He'd pulled back some of the worst of the orders, enough to let her help him when the nightmares were bad. He still wouldn't talk to her about it, and he still wouldn't talk about it with her - but he was visiting Mendosa regularly, three times a week. Every visit left him exhausted, drooping, quiet, withdrawn. But, for a short time afterwards – later that day, and for part of the next day – he’d be improved, relaxed, acting like what Fuchsia thought was probably his real self.

Weeks went by that way, tiny steps of progress, with her marking every smile, every night without a nightmare, every time he could joke with her or his friends without flipping out. The time he let her fix his tie for him was a major victory; the time he threw out dinner a minor setback. They were getting somewhere.
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