With the house painting complete, we are slowly getting stuff put back in place, sort of, maybe. I cleared a spot downstairs where I am now safely ensconced in front of the pellet stove which is throwing out much needed BTUs on yet another chilly day.
Little Miss Mayhem is quite unhappy about my new #writingcave. It disrupts her sense of rightness, and it makes for interesting conversations… Like me screeching What are you doing up there?
I didn’t know they made combat boots in her size.
To celebrate the end of the week, here are a couple visuals to (hopefully) make your day. (The towels are on the hook over there, for you droolers.)
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About Nya Rawlyns
Crossing boundaries, taking no prisoners. Write what’s in your soul. It’s the bass beat, the heartbeat, the lyrics rude and true. Nya Rawlyns is the pseudonym of a writer who cut her teeth on sports-themed romantic comedy and historical romances before finding her true calling in the wilderness areas she has visited but calls “home” in that place that counts the most: the heart. She has lived in the country and on a sailboat on the Chesapeake Bay, earned more than 1000 miles in competitive trail and endurance racing, taught Political Science to unwilling freshmen, and found an avocation in materials science. When she isn’t tending to her garden or the horses, the cats, or two pervert parakeets, she can be found day dreaming and listening to the voices in her head.
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