The squirrels have gone quite mad in my neighborhood. They are fearless to the point of recklessness. I ventured out to my backyard with my boys in tow to enjoy the warm weather. My three year old says “Dad, look at all the squirrels!” And he was right; they’re swarming the yard. Eight, maybe ten of them total. Cartwheeling, dancing, sprinting by within touching distance of us. At first I thought it was silly, of course, they’re only squirrels after all. But the way they watched us, as if we were the interesting creatures, not them. They followed behind us (a pair of them, that is) a mere foot away as we made our way to the swingset, curious about our intentions. One of them watched atop a fencepost. One stood on my sons’ sand and water table, twitching its tail. Another lounged on its belly from a nearby treebranch. All of them watching us. It was verging on creepiness, but I didn’t get a chance to see this scene through to it’s conclusion. Real life interrupted the surreal moment. My youngest needed a diaper change. Nothing like the mundane to pull you back to reality.
On the writing front:
Good God, am I really reaching the climax of the novel? What took me so long?
Next to nil. Went for a 50 mile bike ride with Ken–my first ride of the year. Felt pretty good, except for a minor sprain to my wrist from trying to save myself from a wicked wipeout.