Anyway, the rest of the day has been both relaxing and productive. There were errands, and now my grandpa will get a birthday present. He tried to tell me not to spend too much, like he always does. I told him I didn't intend to get him diamonds set in platinum, and he laughed, but really, I have more sense to spend more than we can afford, and making my grandfather smile when he turns 79 seems like a reasonable goal to me. I think I've succeeded. We'll see. (Oh, who am I kidding -- he'll smile when we get there, and he might not stop all weekend. And the presents will just be part of that.)
I've been working on "At the Sign of the Fish and Amulet," and it's one of those times where my backbrain has been writing this story without my forebrain's knowledge, because it's all there now, all the bits where I would write two sentences and then stop and bite my lip and go get a glass of water and write another sentence and roll my shoulders and erase one of the first two sentences -- all of that is coming to fruition now, with sentences and paragraphs just falling in where they go, little bits of darting back to make sure things are set up, worldbuilding coming naturally in with the description and the dialog. I feel like -- this month, this year, I feel like something came loose that had been stuck before. I thought this was coming, and here it is, and I'm glad. I'm willing to plod along when it's plodding time, but I'm just as glad when it's not any more.
I hear markgritter and timprov laughing together downstairs, and Ista has just put her nigiri toy on my foot for the third time in a row so I can throw it to be fetched. There are complications -- there are always complications -- but my life is good, and most of the complications come from having so many people to love. That's the good kind of complication, I think. Even when the complication itself really stinks.