There's Little To Relate...

On Tuesday Steve cut the grass. On Wednesday I sold a book. On Thursday I decided I love the Wilder cat and invited him to stick around. He just looked at me, then dived through the pet door. During the few days that I kept him shut out, I was very unhappy about it. I want him to get fat and happy. Well, not necessarily fat, but fat enough not to have to kill birds and squirrels to stay alive.

This morning I read the last chapter of Fire on the Waters, a novel set at the beginning of the American civil war. It took a long time to get through it, mainly because reading about the War sort of tears me up. But the subplots were so interesting, I couldn't quit reading it. The consumptive boy who volunteered in the Union navy and wound up commanding and saving a ship; the independent-minded girl who found she couldn't escape an abusive uncle and one day "stepped off the ferry." The Union sea captain who got his and another warship safely through the first terrible encounter of the War, and then slipped over the side and rowed to his native Norfolk shore to join the Confederacy. And the gigantic runaway slave with his own secret agenda. It's a great story, the first of a trilogy. I'm not sure I want to read the next two, however. Though I probably will.