January: " I've enjoyed people's reports on what they've been reading, whether they do them over a month or over a year, so...." I'm going to do a "year in books" again for '05, but I am nowhere near done reading for '05 yet. Today I'm in the middle of The Child Garden, Military Methods in the Art of War, and an issue of New Scientist.
February: "10:00 a.m., and I've written 2000 words and demolished ten notecards." Notecards. Pretty pretty color-coded notecards. Props of my fruitbattery.
March: "I am fighting the urge to make a salad." This could actually begin almost all of my posts. I love salads.
April: "Good morning!" (Yawn!)
May: "Now that I'm a grown-up, I really miss May baskets."
June: "In my family, we had an old joke, one that was no longer funny (if in fact it had ever been funny)." Heh. People who know my family can't tell which joke that is from just that line.
July: "I have sent Thermionic Night off to beta readers." Who were useful, thanks, and I'll be poking you-all fairly soon about the Sampo draft. Where "fairly soon" may mean "yet this year" or may mean "before my birthday."
August: "Who is the most interestingly unfortunate female figure in any mythology for a big, burly, somewhat hapless hockey player guy (defenseman) to make a pass at?" Heh. I should work on that story some more. I am wearing my Sundin jersey today.
September: "Last night porphyrin and Mike and Roo brought me a lasagna and garlic bread and ate it with me." It was good, too, and now I want garlic bread. And a salad. Salad and garlic bread and then later some ice cream; easily pleased, is what I am.
October: "One rejection, that's it."
November: "I just got the photos from my ten-year high school class reunion, and I must say this: it is all right to be pale."
December: "My back had been misbehaving for awhile, but I got into the 'I have too many other things to do' mode and had not scheduled a massage." This is, unfortunately, very like the salad line: more widely applicable than one might think.