December 11th, 2006

good mris pic

Week of December 3-9 (belated)

Four rejections. It's amazing how very clear the return from Thanksgiving vacation is in my inbox most years.

I am not doing the "what I published this year" meme because I am in the sort of mood where, if I had just won the Nobel Prize for Literature, I would be muttering, "Yeah, but...that's for my old work, and I don't think it really represents what I'm doing right now, and...." I have published some stories. I am at least somewhat happy with each of them. But I do not have a summation post in me just now.

I returned home to a load of spam and very few actual messages, but, y'know, house not burned down, all members of the household intact, good enough. I slept like the very dead at my grands' house all weekend and promptly made up for it last night. Oof. I could have used that sleep. 4:30 a.m. is no time to wake up, particularly when it's not for any good reason.

The shower was good, the Christmas party was good, the time with family was good. My mom has the pictures, so once she sends them to me, I'll tell you where to find them, if they turned out. We went looking at Christmas lights because my grands really like that kind of thing, and one house had three repetitions of a sign that said, "Jesus." So we were muttering, "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus!" and giggling all weekend. There was a weird time-warp quality to the whole thing: no e-mail connectivity, and when I got in the backseat of the car with my folks and the same Christmas music they've always had, well. It was hard to remember exactly how old I was, for a moment there. Got to have good time separately with each of my grands and my parents, plus some good time all together, plus with the extended family. So I'd call this weekend a success.

And as for the mountain of laundry and etc. to which I returned, well, that was expected.
good mris pic

out from under

Rejoice, oh, rejoice with me, for I have read my way clear of the stack of periodicals! I have no further periodical reading pending. Until another New Scientist arrives, of course. Quick! Nobody check the mail! This is the first time in months I haven't had an issue of this or that hanging over my head unread.

Now there's just the to-be-read stack. Er. Stacks. But I get fidgety when those get too low anyway.

The piano repairbeing is still here. I don't want her to rush and do a bad job with my piano -- this is the one owned by my great-grandmother -- but I wish that doing a good and thorough job didn't take quite this long.

Well. At least it's been a reasonable time to frost lemon kisses and work on Christmas cards, and when she's gone, I'll get some more work done on Zodiac House. I hope.