Sunday morning

In a mostly unprecedented juxtaposition of events, I am a) up b) about and c) online at the corner café d) before 7:30 on a Sunday morning. I actually preceded the café owner here and had to wait for him to come and open the caffeine tap.

Caffeination in progress, I proceed to block out NPR's Weekend Edition with earphones and meditation music, because no news is my default position of late (though I couldn't look away from the Palin tweakfest the other day). I'm struggling with an article about point of view for meta_writer's "Back to Basics" series. I have a profound and almost instinctive understanding of POV in fiction, but breaking that down into a short essay has kicked my ass.

Last night's neighborhood gunpowder extravaganza left me in only a moderate state of overactivation (talk about triggers, geez!) despite someone on the block deciding that our little street was a fine place for all the fireworks to go off. I worry about the animals on the gunpowder holidays, but Sam and Dean the stray cats appeared on my porch this morning on schedule.

It is, as they say, gonna be a hot one. Back to POV.