As of tonight at 10:06:
I talked to Greg yesterday, finally! (You know how I get if I don't get a Greg-fix.)
I've had a great response from an editor.
My E-spec inbox is officially empty and the new issue looks ready, set, go.
I choreographed the end of my book, wrote five pages toward said end, rearanged some scenes, read through a short story that needs more downtime, and shut down Word for the night.
I've been eating right, lost a few pounds, and working my ass off sans my fucking IPod. (shut up or I'll call you Tommy.)
I've enlisted a babysitter for the weekend, and I'm goin' to the lake. Visitors arranged, social plans orchestrated, vet called, homework finished.
I even nursed a proper round of Bushmill-fueled jealousy for those at WisCon: for Barth, who I've got an irrational crush on (the smart ones never go for me) (oops, sorry, honey. I mean, the smart ones beside YOU never go for me), and those adorable (at least I imagine them so, all I've got is a website to go on) guys at Scribe Agency, who will be partying on Saturday night with REAL beer. Three cheers for REAL BEER.
The only thing I haven't done is written a post lately, so here y'all are.
I'm off to the lake. Good fortune I've got beach weather and an hour to spend at the brewpub--my favorite spot in the universe to write, btw. (That's Hinterland lingo--good fortune means IhopeIhopeIhope!)
Part-ayy at the Lariat, all three nights. Come on, I'll buy you a beer, and Jaaack, I know the bouncer. I can get you in.