Summer Solstice Scurry

I think in my greed for summer weather, I tend to forget that it comes with a price.  The price is a break from the routine.  Of course that means that I didn’t get my blog posted last week.  I just decided to let it slide.  I can’t be Super Woman all the time. 

Today’s blog will be about a few random things. 

First off, can you believe William Shatner’s reaction to them not naming one of the moons of Pluto Vulcan?  What, pray tell, does Vulcan have to do with the Lord of the Underworld?   Nothing.  So, they didn’t name either of the moons Vulcan.  And why would they have needed to?  There’s already a town in Alberta named Vulcan?  Isn’t that way better than a moon so far away that no one can ever go there?  You can go to Vulcan, Alberta, anytime you want.  I think they even have a Star Trek visitor’s center there.  There isn’t a Star Trek visitor’s center on the second or third moons of Pluto.  If I keep talking about this, I’m going to show off how much of a geek I am, so I’d better move on.

Not that the next topic isn’t going to make me seem geeky.  It’s because I have always lived in a part of the world that is completely landlocked.  I am massively interested in giant squids, and colossal squids, and whatever kind of squid is around.  Anytime I open my mouth I’m barking out some weird fact on squids.  I need to stop.  But who will host a squid intervention?  And as a side note, doesn’t it just tear your heart out to watch baby turtles get eaten as they try to race from the nest where they hatched to the shore?  I don’t feel sorry for squids.  I watch those get dissected and don’t flip out, but baby turtles!  Ack!  I’m tearing up.  Gotta move on.

I didn’t know it was possible, but I’m falling in love with another kind of flower than roses – dahlias.  I went and bought a beautiful one yesterday with mauve petals and planted it in a goblet-style planter outside my front door.  I’m starting to understand the beauty of annuals.  You drop a tenth of the cash, they bloom for the summer, die, and then in the spring, you can pick new plants and have a completely different look each year.  Except, I don’t like petunias.  It seems like everyone around here plants them, but they plant them really far apart, so that you can see this cavernous expanse of dirt in between each one.  And they look so fragile, like your flowerbed is covered in fist-sized bubbles.  One gust of wind and boom – the petals are creased with brown cracks.  Roses aren’t like that – they’re sturdy.

Welp, that’s the end of my randomness.  Go read my book Whenever You Want on fictionpress.com (my penname is Sapphirefly) while it’s still free.