I'm going through and prepping my October slate, which you'll be seeing shortly (insert Cryptkeeper's giggle here) my fine, lovely readers.

And I realize that one of the real fine things, one of the good things, about short stories is that they cover the world. Worlds. A little of this, a little of that. Sure, these are all written and then chosen with a view toward the month's theme. Treachery most fowl, er, foul. (I don't have any ducks here, that I recall. Should I fix that? I might fix that, there's time yet.)

The storm, Imelda as it happened and I've been imagining closets full of shoes for some reason, at least for our yard has been a blessing of late season rain, little more. Other than not getting on the road to the day gig this morning, which I'm thankful I can do when I need to, there's been, knock on wood, little more than street flooding so far.

That could change. There are parts south of me, toward the coast, that have had close on twenty inches of rain over the past day or so. And there are parts east and north that look to be getting in line for another twenty inches or so of rain in the next twenty-four hours. It'll be a white-knuckle few days and that's no lie.

So I've a fair few stories in the pipeline and grass that's looking to turn into a monster for a while. All in all, not too bad.