The Smell of Barbeque . . . .

According to my dog's actions, the barometric pressure is up in the air and it's going to rain soon in good ol' St. Louie. The sweet little creature sits at my feet while I sit against the wall on the floor, typing this up on a laptop. Between every few words typed I have to take a break from my recording on the blog to scratch him under his ear to calm him down. Well, what fun!

I like it when it rains through the morning, then gets nice outside in the afternoon, and there's a pretty sunset with the smell of barbeque from the neighbor's back yard. I'm thinking this would be about an early September night, on a Saturday. Or maybe on the rare occasion where there isn't any school for a few days then to begin with. There's barbeque for dinner, and I spend the entire night awake in my room, sitting upright on the foot of my bed with my eyes roaming the room. I'd have a spiral notebook on my lap, and a blue pen in my hands. I'd listen to music, and spend ours completely silent while I daydream at nighttime about various things. The next event, a later event, the climax, or the relationship between characters in my current book for the night. I mean the one I'm writing; not reading. I remember working on my first copy of Bell for hours through the blackened-sky time of my life. I have to admit it; I'm a huge night-owl.

I miss summer now that it's winter. And I bet I'll miss winter when it's summer again. The only thing I wouldn't miss at all is school. There's so much pointless work in school.