Saturday, March 17, 2018

Happy St. Patrick's Day

I'm not Irish, and mostly this day means avoiding the downtown parade route and the epic traffic backup that it causes every year. Still, have a happy St. Patrick's Day.

I'm at work today, at the assignment desk alone except for my cold virus, listening to scanner traffic and hoping the city refrains from fires, shootings and general mayhem. Mayhem is difficult enough to deal with when I'm healthy, which I'm not.

Work update ... I wrote the above sentence about three hours ago. Since then, the news updates have been steady but not crazy-busy. My station shares a helicopter with the other three major Denver stations. We usually don't launch on Saturdays, but we did so today for a fire in a small town on the plains east of the metro area. The chopper is now headed toward Boulder to shoot video of the area where a hiker fell earlier today and sustained bad injuries. Also today, I've updated information from three of yesterday's stories: two shootings and a wildfire that evacuated 250 homes overnight.


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Writing update: I've been working on the novel every day for a month, at least 200 words that usually turns into 300 or 400 words. The total word count so far: about 11,000. I'm happy with that. For me, this isn't about huge word counts but about consistency, and writing every day.

Reading update: I finished reading "A Swiftly Tilting Planet" by Madeline L'Engle, which is my least favorite of that series so far. My son and I finished "Children of the Fleet" by Orson Scott Card last night, and with my daughter, I'm reading "Miss Peregrine's School for Peculiar Children" by Ransom Riggs. On my own, I'm now reading "The Rook" by Daniel O'Malley.

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In other news, this is the newest member of the Hicks family:



He belongs to one of the kiddos, who continued to ask for a guinea pig for six months before my husband and I finally relented. Turns out, I like the little guy. His name is Thunder, and the kiddo takes very good care of him. Best of all, the kiddo's anxiety attacks have eased considerably since Thunder came into our lives. I never would have thought a guinea pig could serve as an emotional support animal, but this one does.

I have to close here because the day job will occupy the rest of the evening, with a shooting, possibly a homicide. Such is the way of the news industry. You can be blogging about your family guinea pig one minute and calling the police department PIO about a shooting the next.

Have a good evening, all.

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