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My courage failed me today. Not a single page to my name. I’m reduced to making a long hand outline in my notebook. I will write down all the options and choices possible, then we will tiptoe through the minefield. Because that’s what it feels like, a minefield. The way is narrow, and perilous. The potential for loosing characters is severe. I don’t want to loose anybody. Part of me is wondering if just refusing to let anyone die is a betrayal of the plot and characters, or if the betrayal would be to let them die. Books ago I grew tired of death. I grew tired of plot choices where killing is the only plot solution. I think that’s why the sex has gotten so much more play in the last books. I’d simply rather do something more live affirming than murder. Especially with Merry sex is often an option where in most books people would have to die. Is it really morally better to kill people to further a plot than to have sex with them? I don’t think so. So to find myself at the end of a Merry book with death and destruction my only options, well, it’s discouraging. I value these men. I don’t want to loose any of them. They are all valuable to me, and to Merry, in different ways. Ways that go beyond plot or character growth. Merry and I both feel like we’ve had enough character growth for awhile. We’d like some simpler choices please.
Tomorrow my family are going on a mini-family vacation. A trip up and back in one day. We’re taking Richard with us, so there’s no one to take care of the dogs, so no overnight. Richard is making noises about moving back to Italy to be with his sweetie sometime this year. I don’t know who we’ll trust with all the things that Richard does here. This visit has sort of brought that into focus. You can board the two younger dogs, but Phouka is blind, and any change of setting is distressing to her, and Jimmy is just old. He’ll be sixteen this year and if he goes off his special diet again, it could be the end of him, so the vet says. He’s sooo pitiful when he begs for treats, and after what happened last time we boarded him, we just don’t trust everyone that works at the doggie hotel to stand firm and not give into those eyes. It must be the beagle half of him, because pugs just don’t beg for food quite that well. Anyway, off tomorrow to have fun, though in truth, the thought of two plane rides in one day scares the hell out of me. But I must get better at it, and so tomorrow I bite the bullet and pretend to be brave. Trinity has no idea that her mother is such a chicken shit about flying. I pretend good. But damn, some trips are harder than others. Normally I put on earphones, music, and work, and pretend I’m not on a plane. Trinity wants to talk, and talking about the plane and the trip makes it hard to pretend I’m in a very narrow bus. I’m to bed as we have to get up early tomorrow.