Owls' Court

Ta-Da!

There's more up on HRH's computer animation portfolio page!

Now I must scurry to meet Ceri for lunch before we settle down to work.

Sun!

It was so nice to wake up and not be stressed by the book. I do have a pressing deadline for those two reviews today, but it's a different kind of pressing: I have to finish reading the books and taking notes. The reviews themselves I can do in an hour or so.

Orchestra last night was terrific. The concert on April 17 is going to be fabulous.

I noticed that I haven't been very hungry the past few days, which might be a direct result of indulging so much at my parents' house over the weekend. I did, however, treat HRH and myself to ice cream on that walk yesterday afternoon. We walked to the Dairy Queen about twenty minutes away for the first ice cream of the season. Mmm.

It was a nice treat, and good to get out. It was good to get HRH out as well, because he's had a bad cold and he too now understands the concept of computer aversion: he's been working on his portfolio pretty much twelve hours a day, burning himself out and developing a remarkable dislike of staring at his monitor.

I passed on Scott's words of wisdom regarding not accepting the very first offer he gets, as he's likely to get several. HRH sighed and said, "I understand what he's trying to say, but he's been working with his company for what, five years now? That's how long I've been out of the animation industry. It's going to be very difficult not accept any offer made to me."

Anyway, he's just been sent off to meet with a bunch of other students who did the intensive program with him, where they'll network over coffee and lunch. Over the past day or so I've been updating his online portfolio, for anyone who cares to check it out again.

Good Riddance

Done. Gone. Sent back. May I not see it again for at least two weeks. (I have no idea how long it will be with the tech reader, but I'm praying that I won't see it again before April 18 at the earliest. And later would be even nicer. A month would be heavenly.)

There were surprisingly few edits in the final three chapters, probably because we edited them so heavily on the first go-round last week.

I'm so tired, and my back hurts. I'm going for a short walk in the sun.

Now I have to speed-read the two books I'm still not finished reading, so that I can review them tomorrow afternoon and get them off to the journal. In general, I have to try to catch up on everything that got pushed aside during the last two weeks that were unexpectedly reassigned to these two rounds of line edits. All those things had been originally delayed and rescheduled to those two weeks because the book was eating my life; now they're all two weeks later than the original delayed rescheduled time. A classic example of the domino effect.

Dazed

Four more chapters to go!

Oh Yes, That Other Book I Wrote

I just had a delightful phone call from the new office assistant at the local metaphysical shop, asking me about the proposed launch for the spellcraft book. (Oh, that's right -- I have another book coming out. Soon, even. First, as in before This Book That Consumes My Every Waking Moment.) She's an experienced publicity person, and this was a first touching of bases between us on the subject. I had to regretfully tell her that I was so swamped with the Wicca book that I couldn't even think about talking about a launch until April, so we agreed that she'd call back again around the 7th or 8th of April. By then things had bloody well better be calmer in my life, and the store will have been renovated so we'll know what kind of space we have to work with. We're aiming for a late May or early June launch.

I admit that I was a bit concerned about the launch, but I couldn't afford to think about it just yet. I would have loved to have organised it with Roo, but she has enough on her plate as it is, and there's just no one else there right now with whom I'd work to plan it. I'm delighted that this assistant has been given the task, and she seems to be looking forward to it as well. She sounds calm, in control, confident, and very capable. I'm really looking forward to working with her.

What?

My line editor tells me that she hears and understands my frustration, and that it's universal in a rush book situation. She also tells me that she thinks this MS is in incredible shape, which mollifies me mildly and scares the crows out me at the same time.

I think I could make another book with all the cuts we're doing.

Feeling Rather Dead Inside

Despite taking the evening to myself last night, I'm still pretty useless today. Cried. Sulked. Brooded. Had a bath. Slept decently. But today just isn't going smoothly. I haven't had enough time away from this book (Enough? There hasn't been any at all!), so addressing this second round of edits (just as many as the first round) is a nightmare, and things just keep slowing down more and more and more.

I never wanted to reach a point where I disliked a book I'd written. I'm at that point now. No, I know it's solid; it isn't bad. But I don't like what I've written. It has no appeal for me. In fact, I actively dislike a lot of it. It's not just the overexposure, or the stress; I read this stuff and it leaves me completely bored. It isn't the book I wanted to write on intermediate Wicca. Maybe I'll feel differently in the future; maybe not. I don't particularly care.

Whatever. I took this contract for various reasons. At least one is still valid, namely to pull together with the team to keep things on track series-wise. Looks like the down payment reason is now invalid, because there's about to be nothing left, which creates a whole new slew of feelings of inadequacy and hatred for myself, the future, and life in general.

But Ceri stopped by last night and left me a large stuffed poppet officially designed to be thwacked against hard surfaces in times of scissor-throwing anger, complete with button eyes that make a very satisfying snapping sound when they meet said surface. Gulliver loves it, but then, it came from Ceri, who is positively worshipped by our large orange sucky cat and is a goddess in his adoring green eyes.

I've emailed to let the line editor know that getting this MS back by 3 PM is not going to happen. I've proposed 5 PM instead. We'll see what happens.

Shop Independent When Possible!

Nine hours of editing. Halfway through the book. Enough is enough, or I will be useless to finish the last half in the six hours I have tomorrow.

I direct your attention to BookSense, a US independant bookshop locator. A pity it doesn't include a Canadian or UK search engine, but still, a remarkable alternative to chains and big-box stores. (Located via Neil Gaiman.)

Snap

I am going to THROW something very soon. Either that, or burst into angry tears.

Perhaps both.

Why does this step in the process have to be so damned hard? Yeah, yeah; time crunch, sensitive artist ego, blah blah blah. It's just all happening on top of itself this time round, and I don't have time to breathe, or think, or CALM DOWN, for gods' sakes. I can't even take the time to walk away from it and say, well, I'll look at it with a clear head tomorrow.

Small Irritated Whine

"Unfortunately since we're in such a time crunch I don't think we can get an illustration of this. We'll just have to ask the copy-editor to ensure every step is really clearly described."

It's not my fault we're in a time crunch. Why do I have to be punished for another author's screw-up?

Muttergrumblegrr.

Wow. I thought I was more relaxed/less stressed than this. Apparently I need more than three days off to recover from running on empty at high speed for two months straight. I'm back to staring at these edits and having no idea what to do with them. Yes, things need to be fixed; how, I have no idea.

Manners?

Can I just say that calling someone three days before a bill is due and informing them that their share of the payment has just doubled is rude? Where the hell is the money supposed to come from?

Later: Ah. This person got the bill notification a month late, because someone else didn't pass it along on time. [Insert eye-roll here, now because of the not-thinkingness of the original person.] I wish I could say I was surprised, but now that I know more and who is involved, things have fallen into place.

Baby Shopping

This Easter weekend in Oakville was also a baby equipment recon mission.

Before anything else, allow me to say this: stroller designs are stupid. If they roll well, they fold into an awkward overlarge shape, and they weigh a ton. I hate them all. I'm 5'3", and I couldn't lift a single one this weekend, because once they're folded they stand as high as my elbow, which means I have no leverage with which to lift them up.

We also looked at baby clothes, and I'm absolutely horrified at what boys are given to wear. There were only one or two newborn pieces I'd even consider having, and anything for a boy of a year and up was heartbreakingly ugly. I hate them all. It's incredibly depressing, and had a surprisingly negative impact on how I feel about this whole thing.

My parents bought us a wicker bassinette for the baby to sleep in for the first couple of months, which is good because it can travel from room to room thanks to the nice big handles, and it also alleviates the immediate need for a crib. I also received the news that our family vintage English pram (the huge metal kind with 7 inch spoked wheels!) still exists in a family friends' garage in Ottawa. Apparently it was damaged in one of their moves, though, so once we've made plans to go out and pick it up after our move it will need a serious overhaul.

And because I was doing a lot less this weekend, I had the opportunity to feel exactly how much the Newt is moving around. Which is to say, An Awful Lot. And Most Of The Time, at that.

More Betrayals

Over the weekend I found out that the person who's been telling people about my pregnancy after promising not to has told yet another two people.

Gods, I want to smack her so hard. Particularly since I'm told that she does it with a little-girl giggle and a coy hand covering her mouth afterwards to indicate, "Oops! That just slipped out! I'm not supposed to tell! Aren't I naughty?"

I'm ashamed to admit it, but the first word that flashed into my mind when I heard this was "bitch." Yeah, I know; I don't use words like that often. But in this case, it's remarkably appropriate, since it's my life she's slamming, and my personal choice to keep this information private that she's making ever-more difficult.

Weekend Bits

In taking a break from the edits (the intro and chapter one are done, hurrah!), I'll share the things that I have not yet mentioned regarding my weekend away:

The car rides didn't mess up my back the way I was afraid they would!

Lots of Easter chocolate. Many Lindt bunnies. Plus Lindt carrots, which are perfectly darling. And a belated Christmas gift which was accidentally overlooked in December: a lovely, lovely little square glass inkwell with an attached lid for my inkwell collection.

Lots of chocolate from the British food import shop. Stocked up on Galaxy bars, a couple of Walnut Whips, and two tablets of Fry's chocolate. Also picked up a couple of something called Liason, which are essentially Galaxy bars with praline filling instead of caramel. Haven't tried them yet. Saving for special occasion (such as, oh, finishing these bloody line edits?).

New summer dress and blouse from La Cache. Gods bless April Cornell for designing flowly, pretty clothes in lovely green. And gods bless mothers who like to see their daughters in the aforementioned pretty clothes.

Acquired a "new" Pyrex 13x9 pan from Mum's basement shelves (to replace the one that snapped in half mysteriously one day last fall), and "new" French White casserole dish with lid from Gran (also welcome, because we have no large casserole dishes since the large Corningware dish cracked five year ago).

Took HRH to the Canadian Warcraft Heritage Museum where Dad works. I did this two years ago, but this was HRH's first time. He was quite impressed by it all, and by Dad's tour.

When we pulled into my parents' driveway at around 1.30 PM Friday, there was more snow on the ground there than there was up here in YUL when we left. It had pretty much melted by the time we left, though. Lovely weather, although gloomy on Monday for the drive home.

The menu (because some readers are intimately familair with my mother's culinary accomplishments and want to know): homemade macaroni and cheese (the recipe for which I abolutely must acquire) made with whole-grain pasta and super-delicious fancy cheeses, served with salad and a tangy poppy-seed cream dressing; then roast beef rubbed with a heavenly mixture of seasonsings which escapes my memory, a potato/roasted red pepper/cream/fancy cheese gratin (which was heavenly), and Yorkshire pudding (because even with another starch on the plate, you have to have Yorkies with roast beef), and lemon meringue pie for dessert (whole eggs in the filling makes it even better than yolks-only); then racks of lamb rubbed with Dijon and fines herbes de Provence, with a heaping platter of roasted root vegetables and asparagus. And for lunch on Monday before we hit the road, homemade quesadillas with chicken and roasted peppers and sharp cheese. There was a jar of Spice Cookies Which Emphatically Fail To Suck, which was gone by Monday morning too.

I like my parents' cats a lot, especially Seamus, but I really, really missed my own felines. We woke up this morning covered in content cats.

Hrm

Yes, the deadline is Wednesday-as-in-tomorrow, not Wednesday-as-in-next-week. Late afternoon tomorrow, though, not first thing, which takes a bit of pressure off the ragged nerves. It messes up my other writing obligations, however, which consist of finishing reading and write reviews of two heavy books for Thursday. Gnash.

The Art of Reviewing

I just read a not-so-terrific review of the second book in the For Life series, which has many valid points (many with which I agree); but I am feeling rather smug because one of the failings the reviewer points to, namely the lack of basics presented in the book, isn't a failing. The reviewer managed to miss the fact that the book is aimed at people of the intermediate level who already possess the basic knowledge necessary to understand the material in the book. This rather skews the rest of the review for me, since in a way the reviewer's own credibility has just been comprimised because they didn't look closely enough at the book. Something like this is particularly awkward when the reviewer picks at the editorial mistakes that she found as one of the main reasons why she didn't enjoy the book. Pots; kettles. What lovely ceiling tiles we have here.

This is one of the reasons why I always, always begin my reviewing process by reading every speck of cover copy and associated advertising, in order to ascertain what the book's goal is. Otherwise, you can fall into some very nasty holes by saying the book doesn't succeed when you've missed the point of what it's attempting to do. It's a common mistake to project what you want the book to have been on to a review text, instead of reviewing what's actually there.

Back In The Saddle

Muah-hah-hah -- the complete MS hit my inbox for the second round of line edits just before 5 PM yesterday. I haven't lost any time on it.

Although, oddly enough, the message with it says not to stress and kill myself turning it around in one day, because getting it to the copy chief on Wednesday will be just fine. I sincerely hope she means next Wednesday, or I will begin to hyperventilate. Because, you know, according to my calendar, Wednesday is tomorrow, which would indicate an appropriate necessity for stress and controlled panic in a one-day turnaround for the entire MS.

Home

Home; alive. The drive home is always an hour and a half longer than the drive there, which means that paranoia, obsession, boredom, and short patience kick in right past Kingston. The presence of Prospero's Daughter in our back seat helps keep us sane.

For once, we didn't come back with tons of stuff. We acquired a smallish thing or two, but left them with my parents because why bring more stuff into the apartment when we have no room and we'll just be moving it in two months anyhow?

Ceri and Scott did that cats-sitting thing while we were out of province and they did such a good job that we barely got an "Oh, it's you" when we walked in.

Picked up three books on Saturday night. Read Tithe by Holly Black Saturday night (debut YA novel, rather decent, pacing a bit odd), then started the Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery Volume 5 (my surprise find while browsing the biographies, and a welcome one as it's been eight years since the last volume came out) and finished it in the car on the way home.

Now: unkinking from the car ride, baking lasagne, and HRH is out dropping off our taxes with the accountant (who managed to forget about the appintment we had last Thursday night -- good thing HRH called in advance to confirm). Tomorrow: checking my inbox to see if those edits arrived. Can't even think of looking tonight.

Easter Odyssey

Off to Toronto!

For some reason I want to launch the road trip with the Magellan mix t! did in honor of an OST game lo these many years ago. I hope it's in the grab bag o'cassettes in the car, because I can't find it here.

Enjoy your weekend, everyone!

Osteo Update

The osteopath has pretty much declared me back to normal, and I have to say that her diagnosis matches how I've been feeling over the past week. I'm stunned at how much pain came from the very same lower back issue that I experienced three years ago. Mind you, I've been replicating similar circumstances which surrounded that particular situation, mainly working at a computer for eight to ten hours a day and being very stressed by work and responsibilities, just as I was back then. Over the past few weeks as the lower back has unlocked and my computer time has dropped drastically, which means that the lower spine isn't being aggravated, the pain has really cleared up. I'm moving so much more freely.

I have an appointment set for two weeks from now, just in case things seize up again, and a general maintenance appointment scheduled for a month from now. I'm feeling pretty good about the whole thing.

20 Weeks

Observation #1: The baby really enjoys orchestra. Not much of a surprise there; after all, the cello leans against the body, which acts as a secondary resonating device. He's getting a first-hand experience. We've always intended to train our children to be a music-lovers (not that it should be difficult, with the amount and variety of music in our lives), and it occured to me last night that I was pregnant at our November concert, and I've pretty much played weekly since then. At some point I'll have to discuss being a pregnant cellist with our female section leader, just for another point of view. And before you ask, of course I'm playing the July concert. I'll be eight months pregnant, but I'll be playing it, come what may. Rumour has it that we're playing some Tchaikovsky, and I've never played Tchaikovsky before.

Observation #2: He gets a bit cranky when I'm at osteo. I think it's the frequent change of position, and the gentle pulling of muscle and skeleton in the lower back region. He made a very uncomfortable turn during my appointment this morning, which reminded me of Cricket-Mouse standing up abruptly, turning around, and thumping herself down in my lap again. (Among our feline collection, we do have delicate, elegant cats. Our Mouse is not one of them. She does everything with a thump.)

I've noticeably grown so much over the past ten days that it's kind of unreal. Tomorrow I'll officially hit the half-way point, and I can't help but be amazed at how much more growth is still to come. There was an immense difference in the baby's development between the first ultrasound six weeks ago and the ultrasound on Monday; that, of course, is now being reflected in the size of my abdomen. HRH finally got to feel the baby move for the first time a couple of nights ago. Now that I've seen how the baby's lying, I know exactly where his head is, so now I can identify where it is by feel. I set one of HRH's hands on the head, and the other hand on the other side of the abdomen so he could compare the difference.

In general, I'm feeling movement more often. Earlier I compared it to uterine cramps that don't hurt; they still feel that way. No pain, just... odd. And now I'm even more aware of it, as he grows bigger and keeps exercising. Eventually there will come a point where he can't somersault any more, and then he'll just bat his limbs around in frustration. Until then, he's more than welcome to stretch out and flip around.

Still no pain; with the lower back issue now solved, the only discomfort I'm feeling is the general stretch of the abdomen as it grows, and of the baby's head pressing against the pelvic cradle. And I'm having to learn how to bend over again, because I can't just lean down to pick things up or tie up my shoes like I used to.

This weekend we get to go shopping for baby with my parents while down in Oakville. We've started researching strollers and seats and such things, and if we can get them secondhand, so much the better. Now that the rush-rush book is out of the way and that particular associated stress is pretty much gone, and my osteopath has solved the lower back pain problem, I feel as if I have more time to spend on thinking about the Newt and enjoying the pregnancy.

Undead

I'm currently watching the "Bela Lugosi Is Dead" video cap from the Invisible concert. I have to say that even though the songs portions of the video are huge and the transfer is time-consuming, I really, really hope the other songs make it to WAV format. (And the banter between the songs, too, because Invisible is about banter almost as much as they're about punk music.)

Can I just say again how much fun Invisible is? They're so cool.

Smug!

Nice to know that I'm doing the right things financially, particularly after such a wibbly morning.

I just typed up the spreadsheet detailing my income vs expenditures in preparation for handing our taxes to our accountant. I made a decent living off this writing thing in 2004, something which I always knew was possible but somewhere deep inside never thought I'd actually accomplish. Once HRH is gainfully employed in his field again, and making real money (as opposed to barely liveable money by landscaping) things will be much more comfortable around here. He's already reinitalised his EI claim, so if nothing happens within the next two weeks (which is the plan, of course: graduate, get hired ASAP!) at least there will be extra money coming in again, which hasn't happened since the beginning of January, and I won't feel so stressed about handling all the bills any more. It's odd: for the first six weeks I was all proud about being able to do this, about supporting the two of us plus paying for half of HRH's tuition in order to enable his retraining. Now, though, I've had to cover a couple of unexpected bills, and it's been hard watching that book advance which was earmarked for the house down payment slowly trickle away to pay for things like groceries, car payments, and gas. The worst bit about the way I'm paid is that I know there's a final payment to come my way for the Wicca book (due mid to late April after it makes its way through the system), plus a final payment for the green witch book once it's submitted (due July for the same reasons): there's money coming, but not now when it's needed for that down payment and for the associated costs.

Anywhats. Feeling a bit more relaxed about the whole situation, particularly since I could take one of those payments in entirety and whack it into that credit line to annihilate more than half of it. Food for serious thought.

Cautious Optimism

I just got the news that the second line edit of the reassembled MS is only 2/3 complete, and will likely not be handed back to me for my responses until tomorrow, possibly Friday.

Well, what do you know. I'm out of town for four days as of very early Friday morning.

They've been told that as this is the case, I won't be able to get to it until Tuesday around noon. Thus, it would seem that I have a day or two of not-insane-workage.

And, after a breakdown this morning (through which HRH stroked my back in a very supportive and comforting way), a pre-approved credit line arrived in the mail from ING. (Which is, of course, where I went after the incredibly unhelpful teller at the Royal Bank told me it was stupid to leave that much money in my RBC accounts, without giving me any suggestion as to what to do with said funds. If you're not going to help me, I'll take my large amounts of money elsewhere, you dork.) The basic limit just so happens to double what I'd budgeted for a house downpayment. Not that I'm going to automatically snap it up, but it bears thinking about. Particularly since it has a reasonable interest and repayment rate.

My hair is shorter by one inch, and looks much healthier. The errands I ran this morning were all successful.

I'm going to go curl up and read.

Wibblage

I'm chewing my fingers. The full MS should arrive in my inbox at some point today, and I truly have no idea how to lose 5K of word count, if it really does stand at 85K. And how it got that way when I submitted it at 83K and we cut out chunks of text already is quite beyond me. And I'm so burnt out on the subject of this book that I'm being anxious about the second round of line edits before I've seen them simply as a pre-emptive strike, because I have no idea how I'll handle them. Gods know what I'll do when the tech reader's edit lands in my lap somewhere in the next month or so.

And I'm worrying about the down payment for a house, which is dwindling as HRH didn't get EI while in school retraining to be a more productive member of society (and let's not go there, the idiots) so my book money has been the only thing keeping us going. And I'm worrying about taxes, which will further eat away at what little remains of my savings. And I'm worrying about moving, which will happen the same week the green witch book is due. And I'm stressing about other understandably stressable stuff, and about my state of mind concerning that other stressable stuff, and about getting my hair trimmed, of all things.

Please don't tell me to take a day off. You have no idea what that does to me, because you aren't actually in my head and can't fully understand that a day off just means time to worry more. And don't tell me to go out and do something, because that's so incredibly not helpful. I'm not asking for advice, or sympathy. I'm just wibbling, as ai731 says. That's part of what a journal is for.

This Spade is A Garden Digging Implement

Cardinal Tarcisio Bertone got a lot of flak for urging Catholics not to buy or read The Da Vinci Code. The book's defenders had a good time with the story, casting Bertone as a would-be censor (which, to be fair, he probably is). If Bertone had just urged people not to read the book because it's terrible, he probably wouldn't have been mocked so relentlessly.

- From Michael Schaub at Bookslut

Sewing Frustration

How hard is it to find a maternity pattern for a longish full skirt?

Apparently, nigh-impossible. Gnash, gnash. Plenty of dresses, tunics, and the occasional short straight/A-line skirt; but anything a bit more tailored, or longer and fuller? Nada.

Grr.

Later: Oh, wow -- I take it back. After clicking on pattern after pattern, I have found Simplicity 4704, which only shows a top as the pattern illustration, but which has a whole selection of useful stuff including a flared skirt that's below-knee, and which I can lengthen. Huzzah! And I found an evening dress-like pattern from Vogue as well, which means I'll be able to make a nice dress for the book launch (in a pale sage green, perhaps?), and one for the July concert, too (black, of course).

Inopportune

Uh-oh.

I feel like sewing.

This is not a good thing right now.

Privacy

I'm in an odd mood. I slept strangely last night, woke up from a bad-ish dream, and was late for my doctor's appointment because the clock on HRH's computer is fifteen minutes behind real time, and he wanted to sit and watch the final few frames of his animatic render to make sure everything went OK. I could understand the anxiety, but I thought he was waiting in order to slap it on a CD and bring it with him so he could drop me off and go straight to school. When he didn't bring his bag, I was a bit miffed. Then he discovered when we got in the car that we had five minutes to make a fifteen minute trip, and understood why I'd been making a fuss about leaving. I wish the apology had made me feel better, but it didn't.

Got home, still felt blah. Had lunch around eleven, then napped. Was awoken at one by the phone ringing. Regular readers know that I don't answer the phone often, particularly when I'm busy working or half-asleep. No one left a message, so I went back to drowsing. Then someone knocked on my apartment door. I'm fanatical about apartment security, so no, I didn't open it; if I didn't buzz you in, then I'm not opening my door to you because I have no clue who you are. Next thing I know, someone's unlocking my front door.

I've never moved so fast from being half-asleep under the afghan in the living room to grabbing the locks on my front door.

It was the concierge from downstairs. She wanted to show the apartment.

Now, I usually have no problem with this. Just let me know ahead of time. Yes, in the last three months they have the right to show the apartment, but please just have the courtesy to let me know as far ahead of time as possible. I was not happy, and she knew it. The poor girl who had come to see the apartment was so uncomfortable, and I did feel bad about that; I showed her around I reassured her that it wasn't her fault. I also took the time to point out all the bad stuff about the apartment, like the fact that it only has one bedroom, next to no storage, and it's loud in the summertime when you open the windows. Of course, I also pointed out the good features, like the high ceilings and the big bathroom and the new windows and stuff. But I had to be fair, didn't I.

I'm going to go down and knock on the conceierge's door later to tell her that I don't mind showing the apartment, but that if she's calling to bring someone up immediately to leave a message when she phones because I screen my calls. Yes, I know the general rule is you have to have 24 hours notice, but the building manager told her to show the apartment anyway, and he's the boss. And I'm really not interested in making a major complaint right now because we're two and a half months away from being gone, and there's no point in making what's left of our time here even more stressful.

So now I'm cranky. Great.

This Sunny Day Has Cleared Out My Cobwebs

I've had a fabulous day. It was warm and sunny, which meant no winter boots or coat, and freedom! After finishing the edits (yay me!) I got to spend the afternoon doing some driving with good friends. Imagine; an entire couple of hours on a Monday, in daylight -- and then an hour spent in a coffee bar, too! I'd forgotten what that was like after the past two months of being housebound by writing on such a tight deadline, winter, and back problems. After picking up our goddaughter, we then got to share in the experience of introducing her to her new big-girl bed, which was a riot.

Now, of course, I'm exhausted. Happy, yes, but wow, will I ever sleep well tonight. And I'll need that sleep, because the full MS is headed back my way tomorrow for a final check before it goes to the tech reader. Somehow, despite the amount of edits we did along the way, the final word count ended up around 85K, instead of the 83K I submitted. I am remarkably puzzled as to how this has occurred, because we sliced out tons and tons of stuff and added nothing. So when I get it back, I'll have to be ruthless and cut even more.

We checked in with Tal this afternoon as well. It was odd to hear him speaking from the other side of the continent. I know, I know, phones theoretically make people sound the same distance away no matter where they are located; but I knew he was in California, and that made it different. I started missing him before he left, even though we hadn't seen a lot of each other in the past year or so. (Damn this growing up thing; it puts a severe cramp in our social lives.) Now I miss him more, because I know I won't see him at casual gatherings for a few months. Despite my joy at his good fortune to be in CA for an extended period of time, the missing-him-ness sucks. I should console myself with the knowledge that it probably improve my character, or something along those lines.

Editing Post Number Twelve: Chapters 10 - 13

Done, done, done! The final batch of edits has been finished and sent back!

I have no idea how long I'll have before the full manuscript comes back to me for a second flying read-through in order to catch any final queries from the line editor; probably only a day or two. In the meantime, however...

I get to rethink my green witch book! Over the past couple of days I've come to the conclusion that with the proposed cover and new subtitle for the green witch project, it's really a much witchier book than I had originally envisioned. That's fine with me; after the demands of this Wicca book, I'm perfectly happy to write a witchy natural magic book as opposed to the denser modern wisewoman book I'd been sketching out. It will be easier, for one thing, and much lighter. It's a good thing my mood and what I want to be writing match what marketing wants, as opposed to where I'd thought to take it last fall. It's nice when things work out this way.

See? This rebalancing thing has its benefits.

Rebirth

Every single time I hear Stravinsky's Firebird Suite on the radio, I'm astonished anew at how beautiful it is. It says "spring" to me so much more than The Rite of Spring.

Second Ultrasound

Last night felt like Christmas Eve. We woke up early this morning and went out to breakfast in order to give us something to do other than just sit and be excited at home. And at breakfast, we talked about names for the first time. If it was a girl, we were set. If it was a boy, then we have a first name, but we're still looking for a second name. In tossing boy names around, I suggested the names of our fathers, Kenneth Graham, and dismissed it because of the author of the Wind in the Willows. (Yeah, yeah, different spelling, but same sound.) It was further dismissed because each of us would be unable to call the kid by one name, it being the name we associate with our respective dads. Besides, as Tal later pointed out, people would nickname him Kenny G, whichis just cruel.

The ultrasound was about half an hour late, because there were two other people booked for our time slot (we love hospital standard procedure, yes we do). we got in at nine, and it took about twenty-five minutes to go through all the measurements and the evaluation.

We have an absolutely perfectly healthy baby in every single way, right on target for the mid-point of the gestation. The difference six weeks has made in the skeletal development is absolutely awe-inspiring. Poor Newt had the hiccups, though, which made measuring the heart and evaluating the rhythm a bit of a challenge, although it amused all of us watching.

And because you're all waiting with bated breath... the Newt is snickering at you all. Five people can be very smug. The rest of us will have to seriously readjust our sensors.

Tomorrow is our second pre-natal appointment, but the only thing my doctor needs to do is check the baby's heartbeat, because she knows everything else is fine and in the right place.

55 kilos, or 121 pounds! Woo-hoo!

More Spring

Another glorious day! It's going up to four above zero today. I will have the windows open as I finish the final line edits. It's a nice change to begin the work week in such a good mood.

We woke up early today and went out to breakfast, which was a nice treat, particularly since Chez Cora was practically empty. While we were out, we saw the most beautiful baby boy. He had the hiccups, which was unfortunate but also amusing. Despite the hiccups, he seemed rather smug about life in general.

HRH started rendering his final project last night. Ten hours later, it's reached frame 406 of 1500. This is defintely going to take a while. When it's done, we may just be able to make it available for download from his portfolio site. Some of you have seen the non-rendered animatic, but the rendered version is going to blow us all away.

Intuition Call!

As of March 14, we've called for a general Intuition Consultation from those who know about the Newt. The 20-week ultrasound is the one where lots of measurements and counts are taken to make sure everything's progressing as it should. And, yes, if the correct view comes up, the gender can also be determined, although that's not the goal of the exercise. We have our suspicions about the gender, and we've asked those in the know to tender their predictions, just for fun. (We're not including our votes in the tabulation, to keep your call as uninfluenced as possible.)

As of tonight, the votes have fallen thusly:

Boy: 5 votes
Girl: 9 votes

We're either going to have a bunch of very surprised people, or very smug people. Stay tuned for the next series of pictures to be posted on the Newt page (if you know, you have the URL) around noon on March 21. If the gender is revealed to during the session, then we'll share it with you so you can validate your intuitive call; if not, then you'll simply have to wait until the first week of August, as we will.

More HRH Talent

As promised, here are two shots from HRH's final project. You can click on them to see them in their original larger size.

This is the very first frame of the whole animated sequence, which brings the camera in and down to the ship, then pans from the bow through the rigging and along the deck, then up the aft deck past the wheel, over the back railing, and then turns to focus on the back of the ship as the camera pans away. (It looks dark, but that's just the angle the lighting is at in this frame. It gets much brighter as the camera moves in.)

This view doesn't actually appear in the animated sequence; it's an alternate camera angle of a single frame.

They look so real to me. I know I've seen the construction of these images pretty much from the basic shapes onward, and I still can look at them and think they're actual pictures.

Spring

I have slept over fourteen hours in the past twenty-four. Yesterday started off so well, with glorious sun and a good mood and the baking of four batches of orange scones dipped in orange glaze. We went out to the South Shore for a lovely visit with my husband's parents. And then -- boom. Around two-thirty, a migraine began. So long, rest of the plans for the day. The only way to get rid of it was to go through the whole dark room, no noise, couple of Tylenol, sleep it off sequence. I woke up again around five-thirty, made a casserole for dinner, ate, and fell asleep again during the bonus material of The Incredibles, and dragged myself to bed because if I was going to sleep, I might as well do it in comfort.

So naturally, I woke up at four AM today because my body had had enough of that sleep thing. I saw the loveliest spring equinox sunrise, though. And I read all five of the Spiderwick Chronicles, which are really one story separated into five books. And hey, there were scones for breakfast.

I have some finished shots from HRH's final project that he handed in on Friday to post. Although formal classes are over, his next week is going to be spent in the computer lab while he takes certain elements from both projects and develops them further into spectacular portfolio pieces to send to people already asking to see them. We're hoping to see him hired somewhere within two weeks.

Editing Post Number Eleven: Chapters 10 - 13

The fifth and final batch of edits arrived, all eighty-three pages of it. (Shudder.)

Chapter Ten and Eleven are already done. I am smug.

Is The Price Increase Supposed To Help Sales?

A month ago I reported that publishers are starting to develop a new book format that is larger than a mass-market paperback but smaller than a trade paperback. Naturally, they're to be priced accordingly, which is stupid because pocketbooks already cost too much.

Well, Peter Olson, the current CEO of Random House, gave a talk yesterday and basically summed up my personal opinion of the whole matter. Publisher's Lunch puts it this way:

Following the Bertelsmann press conference in Berlin yesterday to announce annual results, Random House CEO Peter Olson gave public voice to some of his thoughts on competitors' mass upperback strategy: "The acceptance of that format [the traditional mass market] with that particular size and at those price points is so great, it would be a major change if readers gravitated to something different at this point."

The point, to put it a little more bluntly, is to question whether raising prices by almost 20 percent on the industry's most affordable format will actually help the category. In recent weeks, some Random House executives have made the point that the type size of mass market books can be made larger to accommodate older readers without requiring price increases or a repositioning of the format itself. Olson underscored in his remarks that mass market books still comprise over a third of Random's sales.

The Wonders of Modern Alternative Medicine

7:00 AM, osteotherapy: Look! I'm no longer limping!

9:45 AM, massage therapy: Look! I'm no longer tense! My upper arms no longer hurt!

The bonus of the associated uplift to the mental state is remarkable. (Imagine; less physical pain, less mental stress. So simple.) And it's such a gorgeous day; I loved driving in the sun, even when I was squinting.

Okay, the lack of stress may also have something to do with the fact that my fifth and final catch of edits won't be here until late this afternoon, which means I can actually finish preparing for tonight's class. I am thankful for this, as the last couple I've taught (when they weren't cancelled because I was swamped with work or paralysed with pain) were very unstructured and I wasn't happy with them at all. This also may just be the last Friday night class I'll be teaching, which is a blissful thought. Not that I don't enjoy the people or the subjects; I just don't have the time or energy to devote to it properly. And it will be one less stress off my plate.

This time next week, I'll be rolling into my parents' driveway on Oakville for a four-day weekend. More bliss.

Editing Post Number Ten: Chapter 8 & 9

Finished and sent back!

And may I say, I'm a complete idiot for forgetting that we make corn dollies at Lughnassadh. The proof: I mentioned in the Imbolc section the use of the Lughnassadh corn dolly. So I remembered it at once point; it just didn't translate into actual execution when it came to writing about Lughnassadh. No wonder it was such a short section. I wish I'd had another few days to reread it properly.

Apart from that and the dark slogging through the rest of Chapter 8, I'm rather pleased with how Chapter 9 (invocations etc) has turned out. It's good. I like it. Which means the tech reader will probably hate it. Oh, well.

Although I haven't yet received the fifth and final batch of edits (they'll probably arrive tomorrow morning), it will include: rites of passage (long, and for which I absolutely dread the edits), spiritual archetypes (which always felt sparse to me, alas, most likely because I think it's a book-length topic), drawing down and aspecting (touchy, touchy, touchy subject), and the final chapter on growing as a solitary. Four. Only four more chapters. Another seventy pages (more with comments and edits, of course).

Editing Post Number Ten: Chapter 8 & 9

Done, except for a half-hour or so of thinking up more solitary stuff for one sabbat, which somehow really came off short in comparison to the other seven.

Now for Chapter 9, which will be a wonderful change of pace. Until I run up against another request to clarify and I just stare at it...

Can This Be Over Please?

Things which were incomprehensible yesterday make a bit more sense today. Now new stuff is obscure and lacks easy solution.

Talked to Roo for a bit of a break. Listened to her canary chatter. Lovely spring-like sound.

That lime soda which I've been hoarding for over a week has finally made its emergency appearance. Yeah. It's not going so well.

Editing Post Number Nine: Chapter 8, or, Deja Vu

I sat down at the computer to work.

I developed a headache within ten minutes.

It's defintely stress-related.

On the brighter side, I got an estimate for when the first round of edits should be finished: next Wednesday. So I, naturally, said I'd try to have them in by Tuesday if possible to allow for the transition to the second stage on Wednesday. I must be very, very kind to myself over the next few days.

I only got about 20 pages done out of 76 yesterday, and even then the only edits I did were basically "OK" sort of responses to rewordings or moving sentences around. The bigger queries, like the ones where I'm asked to clarify or rewrite or develop a thought, I had to highlight in green and move on, because I couldn't kick my brain into gear to address them. I feel so damned useless.

Went to bed at six yesterday afternoon, drowsed in the dark for an hour and a half with Tylenol in me, went to orchestra, came home and slept hard. Woke up in a good mood. Now headache.

Very, very kind. Baby steps. Lots of walking away.

More Giants Pass

Andre Norton died last night.

Editing Post Number Eight: Chapter 8

We're now on the fourth batch of edits. I have been staring at the same edit for half an hour. Nothing connects. I have a bad headache, and can no longer focus.

Time to bake brie.

Must... Nap...

Despite going to bed early last night (HRH demonstrated immense self-control by not watching either Making Of documentary included on the second Incredibles disc), sleep wasn't of the best quality. I woke up a lot, had cats dancing on my head at 4 AM (are you sure you don't want another cat, Mousme? He's free to a good home!), then got up early to be at the blood lab as soon as it opened (and I was still twentieth in line!). Can't nap later, as I must finish up those edits, as well as it being the weekly writing jam day and I must play hostess (bad form to just wander into another room to sleep while others write, you see).

Ergo, must nap now.

There will be cats. There always are, the lazy creatures, sprawled all over the bed once we have arisen and fed them and begun our day. Perhaps I will dance on their heads first, see how they like it.

Kitten Love

Nixie, our littlest kitten (who is almost two and a half, but she will forever be the littlest kitten), likes to show she cares by nibbling fingertips. This is spine-crushingly adorable, particularly since Nix is a standoffish little thing who thinks people are to be avoided at almost any cost and prefers to be in another room if they're about, or at the very least at the far end of the one you're in. Being near people is a sign of Nixie in a very good mood. Finger-nibblage is like unto being beatified or sainted by her or something.

Anyway, for the past couple of weeks she's taken to occasionally joining me while I work, sitting to the left of the mousepad. Sometimes she watches the screen; sometimes she draws herself up into a loaf of cat and half-closes her eyes, just content to be there.

This morning, she hung over the edge of the desk above my keyboard drawer and tried to nibble my fingers as I typed.

It must be love.

Blood Test Redux

Five vials of blood. Five. I mean, I know that I haven't had a test done in over four years, and each of my doctors wants something slightly different tested, and everyone wants to be thorough -- but five? The most anyone has ever taken from me before is two!

Anyway: home, alive, did not pass out despite the amount of life they sucked from my body. The technician was terrific; she chatted to me the entire time, didn't jar the needle as she switched vials (over and over and over), and all round it was the best blood-giving in whch I've ever been involved. And I was in and out in half an hour.

The next four business days are rather busy as doctors cram in follow-ups. Osteo therapy again early Friday morning; massage therapy later Friday morning; a specialist appointment Monday; another specialist appointment Tuesday. You'd think I was deathly ill instead of due for regular tests, tired, cranky, and fed up with winter.

My various health specialists seem determined to get as much up-to-date info concerning my systems as they can. No stone unturned, as they say. And after all, it's been three to four years since I had a complete profile and health evaluation done, so I'm due. When I found out from my GP that it had been about five years since I'd had a blood test, I cringed a bit. I see a doctor when something goes wrong, and I have a check-up about every eighteen months. I just haven't been sent for any tests over the past handful of years, and now everyone seems to want to catch up in the same two months. And of course, the hip problem manifesting at the same time was unpredictable, and it's the only major issue at the moment. It all just happens to be occurring when I'm in a crunch period for work, too.

So no one panic when I say that I'm going to yet another doctor's appointment; I'm not dying. I'm discovering that I'm actually rather healthy as test results slowly start to roll in to each specialist. This is all good. Remind me to ask them to spread the tests and appointments out a bit more next time we go through this, though. The whole "I work at home, so any time is good" is beginning to not be such a bonus.

Editing Post Number Seven: Chapter 6 and 7

Chapter Six is done!

I've completed the edits up to where the line editor stopped in Chapter Seven as well. I have to try to cut out my own repetition and extraneous development in twenty more pages, but I'm not going to overdo it; I trust her objectivity more than mine at this point, so I'll read through it, do what I can, and send it back early tomorrow afternoon. Coincidentally, that's when the fourth batch of edits will be sent to me.

Not a bad day's work. HRH had a lovely day as well; apparently his 3DS animation Playblast sequence is brilliant. And guess who forgot to bring a CD to school with him so he could copy it to show me? Yeah. Way to go, Mr Incredible.

Now I can open my new tarot!

Pause For Thoughts

I'm in a remarkably good mood. Less pain, slow and sane edits, open windows, breaks to chat with various folks via phone and email... all round, a much better day than yesterday was.

I'm still looking at my schedule and putting my finger on things that have to drop. I look at each and evaluate the balance between commitment and sanity, compare the things I'm good at and do simply because I'm good at them to the things I enjoy and get more out of on a personal level. I have a feeling there will be some people who are going to be very disappointed with how this works out. The revision may be temporary, or it may be permanent. Who knows?

Editing Post Number Six: Chapter 6

The altar is placed according to the cardinal direction of your basic attunement.

Ah; hmm. Yeah. Talk about unclear. I know what I meant, but why on earth didn't I just say it?

And the line editor didn't catch it. Curiouser and curiouser.

Pot, Meet Kettle

May I just say that it is very amusing to receive health advice from people who run themselves into the ground with no regard for their own wellbeing?

Editing Post Number Five

Chapter 5 is done!

Mailbox Love

HRH, your copy of The Incredibles DVD just arrived, along with my copy of the new Druidcraft Tarot.

So much for you getting work done on those portfolio demo projects tonight, hmm?

The windows are open to let in the spring air, I'm drinking cranberry punch, there is much cat love to be had, and thank you Ceri for the No Doubt CD. Now I'm wondering where the books which shipped just before the DVD parcel have gone, because they technically should have arrived first...

New Day

I just returned from my second osteo appointment, and my therapist is very impressed with how things are progressing. She was also happy with the total bed rest thing I did for a day and a half, and recommend more of the same when things get painful again. The problem has now relocated to the lumbar discs, which are being compressed; the stress on the hip area has pretty much been aligned away, hurrah! The pain isn't as agonising, and she's given me two new stretches to include in my hourly breaks. I also spoke with my original osteopath, who was pleased that things were going so well with the new therapist. My last appointment in this sequence is on Friday, but after that I think I'll schedule one every three or four weeks, just for maintenance. I also have a masseotherapist threatening me if I don't avail myself of her services, so I bow down to her knowledge of the human body and have resigned myself to a series of appointments with her as well, times yet to be determined.

In this morning's email messages were a pile of amusing and thoughtful missives from friends, and one particular message that bowled me over: Vedhalwyn down in Houston TX, (yes, you get mentioned by name, my lady!) sent me an extremely generous gift certificate from Amazon.ca so that I could spoil myself with the Firefly DVD set during sessions of being confined to the couch. I'm speechless and incredibly touched.

The next hurdle: our taxes. Sigh.

Colour Code

Have I mentioned no pink and no baby blue clothes for the Newt? Gods, I hate colour-coding kids. Pale green, people, is a perfectly serviceable baby colour, as is pale yellow. And lavender, cream, and white. And red, of course, because this will be the Heir to the Dominion. But if people start giving me pink and blue stuff just because of the gender, they will get flat looks of "Excuse me?" Depending on my mood, they may even get the words themselves.

Flow

Okay. For those who have wondered, a moving baby feels like uterine cramps without the pain.

I wish I had more time to enjoy this pregnancy. Apart from the lower-back-affecting-the-hip thing (which they tell me would have eventually happened to me at some point anyway, it's just happening now because of the shift in pelvic set-up and being aggravated by my computer work) it's going so amazingly well, and I'd love to think about it more, maybe meditate on it, and so forth. Other than the back issue, the only issue I've had to really deal with is not being able to bend in quite the same way.

The Newt moves a lot, usually around nine to ten in the morning, again between three and four in the afternoon, and between nine and eleven at night. It's so obvious to me that I often call HRH over to put his hand on my abdomen. Unfortunately, he can't feel it and identify it as baby movement the way I can; I'm feeling it from the inside and the outside, so I know which faint movements on the outside correspond to the stronger sensation of movement on the inside.

We're having the 20-week ultrasound done next Monday, and it's the one where lots of measurements and counts are taken to make sure everything's progressing as it should. And, yes, if the correct view is offered, the gender can also be determined, although that's not the goal of the exercise. I'm looking forward to knowing if the Newt is a he or a she, simply because it feels wrong to keep calling it It or simply The Newt. There's a little person in there, and a little person I want to nurture and cherish; I'd like to accord him/her the respect of addressing her/him more precisely, and connecting it him/her more deeply by being able to encompass her/his personality a bit more.

I really, really wish I wasn't so stressed. I want to take the time to enjoy this. Sure, I have another 21 weeks to go, but I'm not going to be at this stage for 21 weeks; it changes so quickly. Yes, I'm journalling, but life seems to be flowing by so fast that I feel as if I'm losing part of this experience.

Editing Post Number Four: Chapters 5-7

Oh gods -- I just got the third batch of edits back, and I want to cry. They want to reorganize the order of the info so much that I can't wrap my head around what they're asking.

Later, 17.30h: Okay. It's actually not as bad as the last batch, which was super-re-organised. This one is more about the sequencing of chapter info, and the fact that I look at the same pieces of information in different contexts, which may have confused them. I've already made it clear that no, we can't just fold it all into one chapter, because that would simply result in an 80-page chapter with no focus.

I also let them know that my standard SuperGoddess mode is out of order, and that I won't be able to turn the edits around within twelve hours as I did with the previous two batches. This one might take till Wednesday. It helps to know that I have the time to read through it as many times as necessary to really understand the new sequencing of the sections.

I really need a shirt or a tattoo across my forehead or even just a sticky note on my monitor that says, "Miracles Are Not Standard Issue" or some such thing.

Small Comforts

By the way, I now have a real heating pad. The cats like it, too.

Blood Test Woes

Things still hurt. Yesterday, though, I was determined to get out into the warmth and spring-like weather to see Tal and the gang for a evena bit at his official Farewell Tal gathering. So I dosed myself up on Tylenol and out we went. (Hey, after cancelling three other events to lie on the chesterfield or in bed seething resentfully, I would have liked to see someone try to stop me.) The walk back to the car wasn't much fun, and neither was getting up this morning, but the benefit to my mental health was worth it. Someone complimented me on how glowy I looked; I put it down to being out of the house, wearing new clothes, and makeup for the first time in over a week.

This morning, on the other hand, was an exercise in futility and deep frustration. We got up and left just after six-thirty AM to get to the hospital for my blood test, which I've been meaning to do for over three weeks (hey, it's been about four years since I've had one; it's more than due, and it has to get done before my doctor's appointment next week). Things like my deadline and HRH's school schedule have been kind of more important though. As the blood lab isn't marked at all, we wandered around for ten minutes, my hip complaining more and more, until I got frustrated and went to the admissions desk. They gave us directions and we went downstairs, opened the door and stood staring at over forty people in the waiting room. Right away I could feel HRH stiffen and tense up. "Want to come back tomorrow?" I said. "Yes," he said immediately, so we turned around and left.

The uselessness of it all really got to me: we had taken an hour out of our day only to get nothing done. HRH had been having a slow morning after a frustrating weekend, and every step I took around the damn hospital hurt me more. And I hate having blood taken. Most people think that after years and years of allergy shots I should be okay with needles, but it's not the needle so much as the fact that I have low blood pressure and taking even a bit really throws me out of whack for a while. Hence the reason HRH has to take me; I can't drive afterwards. Then I realised that we can't go back tomorrow, because I have an osteo appointment that I really need to attend; it will have to be Wednesday.

I guess I kind of snapped for a bit once I got back to the car. I've been so angry about this hip pain, and the fact that I haven't had a break from this damn book, and how cooped up I feel after winter, and that I'd psyched myself up for the blood test and had to come back later that I started crying in frustration. When HRH joined me he was a bit puzzled, I think; he knows I hate blood tests. He patted me on the back and said, "Don't cry; we'll come back another day."

But that's just it. I don't want to come back another day. I want to drop pretty much everything I'm doing and just focus on me for a while. I wasn't crying about the blood test; I was releasing tension about bills and househunting and working and being in pain and all the stuff that makes demands on my energy, even the stuff that's supposed to relax me or help heal me. I'm reading books to make other things go away, and when I'm done I don't remember what I've read. I want to be able to enjoy what's going on in my life. I'm tired of making everything fit and having a diminished experience all around. I'm growing out of a couple of parts of my life, too, and it's difficult to shed certain associated responsibilities.

Gods, I so need spring to help me through this. I keep telling myself that in another ten days or so, the book edits will be done (please, Goddess, let this estimate be accurate), and somewhat warmer weather seems to be finally making a slow entrance, and I get to see my parents for a couple of days on Easter weekend (a flying visit which is better than nothing, but still not a vacation). HRH is looking at a job market where people with his new skill set combined with his old set are scarce and being sought out, so if he can just get a landslide of work done in the next week he can send demo reels and CVs out and possibly get hired ASAP. There's good stuff on the way, but it isn't here yet, and I'm tired of looking into the future for it.

Not Dead

But certainly immobile.

Just raised myself from the bed to let you all know that yeah, things hurt a lot, and I'm majorly restricting activity this weekend. You'll all be contacted privately regarding my attendance at whatever event in which we're supposed to be participating together.

After I got offline yesterday I spent eight hours on the couch, and then went to bed. Things are a bit better, but I'm not going to stress the hip joint any further than I absolutely have to because I want this over and done with. I'm taking what painkillers I can take, using heat and ice, pillows to take stress off the joint, and I have two osteo appointments lined up for next week plus I'm on the cancellation list; there's not much more I can do except not move. I'm sure you understand. Living life from the couch irritates me to no end.

And it can stop snowing and be spring any time now.

Worse To Invalid

The osteo warned me the pain might get worse before it began to improve, but I doubt the debilitating, shooting, tears-causing, leg-crumpling-underneath-me pain is what she meant.

All I've done is sit at the computer, and get up for the very basic back stretch she showed me, with gentle walking around the apartment to keep things loose. What went wrong?

This is stupid. I can't sit, and I can't stand without pain. I've taken my Tylenol. If I have to cancel class because I can't move, I will be mightily pissed off.

I have to go lie down. I'm offline and not on the phone as of now, people.

Editing Post Number Three: Chapters 3 - 4

Done. I have a headache, but I puzzled through them.

Argh. Part of the problem was that the headers all got messed around. No wonder I went cross-eyed and cross-brained.

Now to come up with something miraculous for tonight's class when all I want to do is crash and sleep. I was so right to drop the third class I was teaching. This one only has another three classes, including tonight, so thank heaven for that; I don't know how much more work overload I could take without a vacation.

Editing Post Number Two: Chapters 3 - 4 ( Or: Brain, Meet Wall)

I'm banging my head against the edits in Chapter 4. The line editor has moved things around and they're now so out of sequence that my original train of thought has not only derailed, it's fallen into a Magic Hole into Khartoun. And I'm left on this side wondering what the hell happened, and how to wrap what's left of my mind around the new train of thought as it exists in the edited version. (Lots of "Is this what you meant?", and me wondering, is it?)

I can do a page at a time, then I have to walk away or everything explodes, and there is pain and anguish and why, Santa, why are you taking our Christmas tree, why? And no cats sang.

Maybe this won't get turned around as quickly as I thought it would. Twenty-seven pages to go.

Gnash

Someone keeps calling every ten minutes or so and hanging up before I can get to the phone.

If it's you, let the damn thing ring four times, all right? And if I don't answer (because I'm getting really tired of standing up and limping to the phone), leave a bloody message.

New and Not Improved

It turns out that the agonising hip pain that I've been experiencing is directly related to the back problems I've had for over three years. As my old osteopath is booked two months in advance, I worked with a new therapist today, who was great. She diagnosed the same problems my osteo had diagnosed way back when, and used a lot of the same stretches to loosen things up. I'm not pain-free, but I'm certainly more mobile than I was last night, for example, when I couldn't even shift my weight in bed with tensing up and hissing. She says that with the lumbar region looser in general, there won't be as much tension around the nerves and ligaments, and the hip will be less stressed. I'm seeing her next Tuesday and next Friday to follow up, and she thinks that should encompass pretty much the entire healing process. (Until I do something stupid to knock out my hip alignment once more.)

I've decided to use my ergonomic keeling chair again; I stopped in December because it was hurting my knees. I padded it with the sheepskin I've been using on the regular office chair, and so far so good; it certianly keeps me more aligned and doesn't stress my back as badly.

I got a short section of the book back for edits; just forty pages. I'll turn that around, then get to preparing for tonight's class. This subject rather crept up on me; I thought it was two weeks from now, so I unfortunately can't use my original plan of bringing in a guest speaker; it has to be all me. Which means that I have to develop something brilliant. If I think about it properly I might be able to use in in the green witch book. (Remember that one? Yeah. It's starting to swim out of the recesses of my brain again.)

Novel-Writing Software

What's wrong with a notebook?

Editing Post Number One: Introduction and Chapter 1

I love my line editor. She's done exactly what I needed her to do: smoothed things out, excised repetition, and rearranged the flow of thought.

Later: It's 2 PM, and it is official: I am a goddess. The first set of edits on the first hundred pages are finished and back to them already. The line editor is an absolute saint: she rearranged Chapter 1 so that it made even more sense. Gods bless her.

Official Ow

I got home from orchestra last night in severe pain. My lower back's been complaining a lot recently as a result of all the computer work I've been doing, and around the end of last year it started affecting my left hip as well. It feels like I've pinched a nerve: hot shooting pain that immobilises me. You really don't understand how integral a hip is until you can't use it. Sometimes it's really bad, sometimes it's almost nothing. It comes and goes. Usually I get HRH to massage out any knots, and a night of rest makes things somewhat better. And, you know, there's always Extra-Strength Tylenol.

Not this time.

I woke up in as much pain as I'd been in the night before. So I finally bit the bullet and did what I probably should have done two months ago: I called my osteopath. Who, naturally, is booked for a month. So I took an appointment with an osteo-in-training who's working under the supervision of another osteo.

The good news: it's tomorrow at seven AM! Less than 24 hours of agony to go!

The bad news: I was supposed to stop in at the hospital for a blood test at seven AM tomorrow. Hmm. Well, looks like that's being bumped to Monday. It's waited three weeks, it can wait one more business day.

It's not like I enjoy being in pain; it has more to do with the idea of paying someone $75 for an hour of realigning my body. I feel as if I should be able to do it on my own, for some reason. It's my body, after all.

Spring Concert Announcement!

No, not Random Colour; give us a chance to pull something together first, would you?

The Lakeshore Chamber Orchestra is pleased to announce the second concert of the 2004-05 season, to take place on Sunday April 17 at 19.00h. The orchestra will be performing at Valois United Church in Valois, Pointe-Claire, located on the corner of Belmont and King streets. Admission is $10.

The programme for the evening is:

Tancredi overture - Rossini
Sixth Symphony - Schubert
Selections from Les Petits Riens ballet music - Mozart
The 'Pas de Six' from William Tell - Rossini
Cello Sonata no. 5 in E minor for orchestra and solo cello - Vivaldi

Mark your calendars!

Did I Mention It's An All-Girl Band?

I may also have previously mentioned that our lead singer is a multi-talented artiste. View the evidence for yourself.

Click on the picture to see a close-up of Karine's work.

We're batting around song suggestions and trying to plan a get-together (which, seeing as how there are seven people involved who all have jobs, lives, and families, is going to be a special challenge). I wonder if any of these women know that while I've been playing for ten years and I can sight-read decently enough, my improvisational skills suck. Not to mention that playing in front of people without an orchestra behind me is one of those experiences which triggers anxiety in a big way. This will be good for me.

And it occurred to me last night at orchestra (where we finally got a confirmed concert date, woo-hoo!) that the idea of this band may have popped into Ceri's mind simply so that she could hear me play the cello in a setting where she could actually hear me, and not me and thirty-nine other people. It was followed, naturally, by a dismissal of the notion as unlikely. She was much too excited about the idea in general. Besides, I think the idea was borne by me royally mucking up that insane passage in the Rossini 'Pas de Six.' I tend to think very dark things about everyone during that particular passage.

Enjoy Your Day Off? Good. Because...

I learned last night that there's such a rush on the Wicca book that I'm not even going to have a week off before I have to plunge back into it; the line editor is sending me the first 100 pages tonight to respond to the basic coding and first round of smoothing out.

What horrifies me is that she says it's still in great condition and reads better than a lot of stuff that lands on her desk. How can authors not care enough to polish their work before they submit it? I'm speechless.

I went out yesterday to deposit the advance cheque, and picked up some new early spring clothes on sale. You know, I am so very tired of winter. I hate my boots. I want to burn my winter coat.

Oh Dear

It occurs to me that I have time on my hands, and since I'm being anti-social, I can sew again.

And in the Midnight Sienna pic, Karine just happens to have taken my suggestion regarding corsets and boots to heart.

Dee dee dee... let's see now: some tattered black chiffon to go under the pleated tartan mini-skirt... black ass-kicking boots... black lace over black mock-suede corset... black lace over black mock-suede bracers... dee dee dee... and I have all this lovely time and a lonely sewing machine just over there...

And now I really, really want that Yamaha electric cello. Except then I think I'd be the only band member with an electric instrument.

How To Tell Your Mother You've Joined An All-Girl Band...

... of the post-modern/punk kind called Random Colour:

I could claim that this was a post-deadline whim, but it was established with full awareness and in a state of sanity last Saturday night.

Yes, all seven of us have/will have personalized icons. Check out the ongoing, updated gallery of icons here. Thanks, Karine! It looks fabulous! (Our lead singer, like everyone else in the band, is a multi-talented artiste, don't you know.)

I Pass The Test; I Will Diminish And Go Into The West, And Remain Galadriel

When I was really down last week, I took a few minutes to turn off my monitor and think about how it would feel to have finished this book. Then I turned everything back on, wrote this post, and saved it as a draft:

It's finished. Or at least, as done as it's going to be as a first draft.

No, it's not the brilliant, essential text I wanted it to be. It's nowhere near the calibre of writing I knew I'd produced in the spellcraft book once it was finished. This one has been so slippery; it's spirituality, not mechanics.

But it's done.

I think I'm going to go hide my head under a pillow and cry for a while. Relief, fear, stress-release, disappointment, joy -- all of the above.

It helped immensely, because it showed me that there was no way I could make this the book I wanted it to be in the time I had been given. Once I had accepted that, the final seven non-stop days of writing were a bit easier to handle. I wasn't trying to attain the impossibly high standard I had originally envisioned for this book; all I had to do was pull off a solid product. Not brilliant; not awesome; not exciting; not a spiritual revelation for the masses; not the essential text I've been griping about not having available to give to people who need it; just solid.

So that's what I did.

And now? Now, I'm just feeling rather neutral. Slightly trepidatious, in fact, about how I'll feel tomorrow when I wake up and don't have to immediately plunge into overdrive as I've done for the past, oh, seven weeks. So yes, I'm feeling neutral, and tired, and sort of flat. But I did it, I lived through it, and I created a good, sturdy product, even if it isn't the brilliant miracle I wanted it to be. I don't want to cry. Yet. That will, however, probably happen at some odd point in the next 48 hours.

I'll head out to the bank tomorrow; depositing that advance cheque will make me feel a bit more relaxed. (So will throwing money at Visa.) Then, I think I'm going to head to Omer de Serre to pick up some canvas boards and paints, to mess about with a very different sort of creativity in order to give my writer-mind a break. I'm looking forward to actually playing my cello in the coming week, too.

Thank you again, everyone, for the words of encouragement you've offered freely over the last while. I've been growly and grumpy and bad at accepting that encouragement, but you helped me get to where I needed to be.

You may now party.

The Final Book Update

Final word count: 83,575

Submitted at: 17:05

Overall feeling: Rather numb, actually.

Irony

The advance cheque for the book I'm about to submit in half an hour just arrived.

Penultimate Book Update

Total word count, Wicca book: 83,557

Um.

There's no more symbols indicating a paragraph needs to be added. No more highlighted words to remind me to check facts or sources.

Dangling bits of information which were originally meant to go somewhere interesting have been mercilessly pruned away, no matter how intriguing they were. My resources appendix, a wonderful idea two months ago, has also been cut because it was rather thin and I don't have the time to do it thoroughly and correctly.

I'm going to go walk away for a while, maybe even turn off the computer. When I come back, I'll scan for continuity in capitalisation and spelling, and then

I think

it's over.

For now.

Book Update Number Six Trillion and Five

Our current score:

Chapter 2: sacred space
Chapter 3: advanced circles
Chapter 4: spells and energy work for solitaries
Chapter 5: simple rites
Chapter 6: enriching ritual
Chapter 7: crafting rituals
Chapter 9: invocations, prayers, meditations
Chapter 10: rites of passage
Chapter 11: spiritual archetypes
Chapter 12: drawing down & aspecting
Chapter 13: growing as a solitary & uplifting conclusion

Note that Ch 8 is NOT on the list. While scanning for the little symbol I insert to indicate that a paragraph is necessary, I discovered that I'd overlooked an examination of how to celebrate Midsummer on your own.

IT WILL NEVER END.

I've done a lot of squinting at half-written sections and deleting them to avoid having to expand them. Certainly tightens up the book. Must go through Ch 1 and see if there's anything to hack out; it's one of the longest chapters of the book.

Current word count: 84,360. I officially declare the word count Someone Else's Problem.

Three hours to go.

It's still snowing.

The Hellboy soundtrack has now been on repeat for four hours.

Book Update Number Six Trillion and Four

Chapter 8 is done!

In Like A Lion

It was sunny when I got up, twenty minutes after sunrise. Really. Honest.

Then it was overcast and gloomy. Fine. I turned on lights and lit candles.

Now, snowstorm. Fluffy, heavy snow.

The only thing keeping me smiling: Sex and Violence as performed by Invisible. For the banter as much as anything else.

(Scott wasn't kidding when he said the bass throws the speakers. And on what appears to be a mono recording, too. Fascinating.)

D-Day

Once more unto the breach, dear readers. Nine hours to go.

Book Update Number Six Trillion and Three

I'm so close to being able to add Chapter 8 to the list of conquered nations! It's taken three hours to beat this single chapter into submission, but all I have left to do is to write a concluding paragraph on esbats. That paragraph plus the remaining three chapters will be finished tomorrow.

Current word count: 84,021. Ack.

Lunch, then coven, then the book launch for You Don't Know Jack, a CD-book compilation of stories told by Dave and Dylan, and illustrated by HRH!

Ungood

So not in the mood to work today. The mental and emotional resistance as I slog through pages is alarming. I know it comes from working stupid hours on this thing lately, but come on, it's due tomorrow. Just two more days of insanity, and then we can resist anything we like.

This is bad.

Fact:

I have very, extremely, remarkably talented friends.

Invisible presented an all-too short concert last night which has everyone asking when the next performance is. And I now own the original Winter Leaves Triptych by Luanna Venditti (seen here in only 2/3 of its splendour), which will be hung on the bedroom wall later today.

Spent an hour in bed this morning reading The Pagan Dream of the Renaissance by Joscelyn Godwin, a fascinating and extremely well-written examination of how the classical revival informed art, architecture, and literature of the Renaissance. Very enjoyable.

And now: I write. After tea and toast, that is.

Book Update Number Six Trillion and Two

Our current score:

Chapter 2: sacred space
Chapter 3: advanced circles
Chapter 4: spells and energy work for solitaries
Chapter 5: simple rites
Chapter 6: enriching ritual
Chapter 7: crafting rituals
Chapter 12: drawing down & aspecting (ha! take that!)
Chapter 13: growing as a solitary & uplifting conclusion

I'm really impressed with my work today. Things are about to slow down, however, because Ch 8 is sabbats & esbats, and I've left gaping holes there. Similar gaping holes lurk in Chs 10 and 11. I have no idea what needs to be done with Ch 9; I have no memory of how it stands, other than a need to write a section on how to write guided meditations for yourself.

Current word count stands at 83,174. Groan. And yes, I've been cutting things out as I go; it went as high as 85K at one point. But you know what? I think I'll be handing it in over the word limit and letting the copyeditors and tech readers tell me what can be deleted. At this point, I can't see what's unnecessary; I'd rather have a set of fresh eyes attached to an impartial brain looking at it for that sort of evaluation.

A nap sounds good right about now.

Foiled

Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

Chapter 12, I have just discovered, is not done. While editing it yesterday I managed to completely skip over the last part on channeling, which needs serious rewrites/expansion.

On the other hand, Chapter 4 is done. So our score now is:

Chapter 2: sacred space
Chapter 3: advanced circles
Chapter 4: spells and energy work for solitaries
Chapter 13: growing as a solitary & uplifting conclusion

Now I will beat Chapter 12 into submission, and re-add it to the list, and write a suitable conclusion for Chapter 5.

LATER: Ha! By moving a paragraph from the middle of Chapter 5 to the end, I have created a conclusion and smoothed out the flow of thoughts and ideas. Add Chapter 5 to the list of conquered nations.

As of 3:20 PM, word count stands at 83.5K.

More Boasting

Look what HRH can do!

You can click on this one to get a bigger (and clearer) picture.

He says: Here's a shot of the ship with full rigging, in an environment. Changed the sail colour from that dramatic blood-red to cream; the shadows work better this way. This is the first water design I've ever done. (The ship still looks a bit flat, because there's no texture to it at this stage.)

He's so cool.

Me? Well, I'm staying home from class (again -- HRH put his foot down last night and told me I was staying home to rest; then he put the other one down and told me that I wasn't allowed to work on the book... a necessary statement for, I must confess, I had considered doing just that as soon as he informed me I wasn't going out to teach) because this is going so agonizingly slowly. Slowly but steadily, which, as I remember being told often as a child, is how one wins the race.

Dickens, Nothing

81K.

This is what comes of tracking back over all the unfinished sentences and inserting the necessary rituals and paragraphs to expand basic ideas. And it's nowhere near over.

Best typo I've found so far: "To ease the tensions surrounding a person's passing, create scared space." I howled over that one.

I am so going to enjoy slicing bits out of this, once I get to that point. Methinks something this weekend is going to have to drop; might have to be my presence at Saturday afternoon's class, as I'm not the one actually teaching.

Chocolate. Must have chocolate.

LATER: Argh! It's 6:00, and I've just passed 82K. This is ridiculous! But at least I've crossed off four complete chapters that I don't have to look at again. For those of you keeping score at home, that's Chapter 2 (sacred space), Chapter 3 (advanced circles), Chapter 12 (drawing down and aspecting) and Chapter 13 (growing as a solitary and the uplifting conclusion). Chapter 5 only needs a concluding paragraph on the uses of simple rituals, but that is so on tomorrow's schedule.

Anticlimax

Passed 80K.

I so wish this meant the end of the book.

In The Correct Mood For Journalism

While snarling to Ceri this morning over e-mail about various things:

Ceri: "Aah. Good. It's a stomp the stupid people day. I'll bring the bullets. You bring the guns."

Me: "Guns? I was going to use my nails and teeth."

Thoughtful

So I've been writing lately about how my headaches are bothering me, and how I'm looking forward to being completely alone. Ironically enough, I'm going to a concert on Saturday night, a debut concert for a band with a few members who are my personal friends. (All is a few, right?) The concert promises to be rather loud. It is a punk-based band, after all.

The bass player called me yesterday and said, "I've been thinking. If you're still intending to come on Saturday night --"

"Of course I'm coming!" I said. "It's the band's debut concert. I'm not going to miss that."

"Yeah. Well," he said, "I was thinking about your current people thing, and your headaches, and I just wanted to let you know that you might want to bring earplugs and sit really, really far away."

He was so kind about it. I never would have thought to bring earplugs. Sitting far away, yes. Taking Tylenol before the band takes the stage, yes. But not the earplugs. My friends take care of me.

There's just something terribly touching about a member of the band itself calling to make sure I'm as far away from them as possible, blocking out half the sound they make. It's like an exchange: he knows I'm sacrificing precious writing time and deliberately walking into a situation which will likley trigger pain, so he extends to me the option of halving the experience. It's rather sweet.

Early-Morning Musings

Anyone who thinks writing professionally is easy should be shot as a kindness to society.

So should strangers who randomly buzz apartments at 2:37 AM to ask to get in because they (a) forgot their keys, or (b) can't read the numbers or names listed on the directory.

Ladies And Gentlemen:

HRH is pleased to present a sample of his work from each of the two programs he's been learning at light speed over the past seven weeks:

Book Update

Total word count, Wicca book: 79,235
Total words today: 1,754

Don't cheer yet, folks; just because it looks close to 80K doesn't mean it's that close to being finished.

Still to go:

- write half a dozen rituals
- expand two half-chapters of notes into words
- track down all the highlighted sentences to check my facts
- find all the [***] marks which indicate I need a paragraph to expand the concept
- basic read-through to catch half-written sentences, paragraphs, and chapters that just sort of stop instead of concluding gracefully
- scan for any obvious missing material that should be there but isn't

The Mathematics Of Editing

The irony of editing is that you end up with less product than you had at the best point of your writing session.

I began the day with 77,288 words. After three hours of work, I only have fifty more words than yesterday's total word count. In those three hours, however, I added three pages, passed 78K, deleted a total of five pages, and changed lots of words in one chapter, knocking me back down to a total of 77,349. As a result, Chapter 9 is tighter and flows much better. I only need to develop a couple of pages on writing guided meditations, and it will be done.

Then I have to perform miracles with Chapters 10, 11, 12, and my concluding chapter 13, which will probably be the easiest one of the lot. I still have serious work to do in Chapter 8, but I'm sick of writing about sabbats and esbats.

Raven

I don't think anyone really got to see this painting in HRH's Celtic totem animal series before he gave it to my mother for Christmas. My dad just emailed me digital pictures for our records, so have a look:

Cause and Effect

Yes, it's official:

I sit down at the computer, a headache blossoms.

Size Matters, and Betrayals

Somewhere over the last ten days, my body realised that it was pregnant, and started growing in earnest. My waist finally gained an inch, the abdomen is now officially five inches beyond pre-pregnancy size, and I actually made 120 lbs! This is the biggest and heaviest I've ever been in my entire life.

Someone who knows I'm pregnant but doesn't see me often e-mailed to say that he'd heard I was finally showing, and the odd thing is, no, I'm not, really; it just looks like I had a huge meal. If you knew me really well and hadn't been seeing me on a regular basis over the past four months, then you might look at me oddly and think I'd changed shape a bit, but you still wouldn't be able to tell that I'm pregnant, exactly.

And on the subject of not knowing, the previous post is of course about someone who knew I was pregnant, and who knew perfectly well that I was being extremely selective about who possessed the information. I want my life to be as normal as I can manage for as long as possible. And so far, things have been going really well. Until, of course, I discovered that she'd been passing the information out.

This so completely disrespects me and my privacy that I have been speechless with rage whenever I thought about it for the past 48 hours. Not good for the baby. Not good for me in general as I enter into the home stretch of the Looming Deadline.

Granted, this person wasn't on the original list of those who would know; she was given the information only because she asked a very direct question. If I'd lied, it would have been rather evident in another two months. So I told her. We've shared pretty personal stuff before, and it had never been a problem -- or so I thought. Now, of course, I wonder how many other secrets of mine I've confided to her have gone merrily sailing out into the public.

Some people really don't understand why we're keeping this private as long as we can. This person is obviously one of them, but at least the less-than-dozen other folk who know are respecting our wishes. We're keeping it to ourselves because we're both stressed with work and retraining, and fielding even more people poking at us and asking how we're doing would send us right over the edge. In the past I've seen pregnant friends being lectured and cornered by well-intentioned people, and I refuse to deal with that until I have to. It's my life, and if you don't understand that, fine; I'm not asking you to understand, just to accept it.

Secrets

I'm a rather private person. Friends and regular readers know this. I keep my inner self to myself; my deeper secrets are my own. I rarely download to anyone. (Yes, a prime potential source of stress, I agree, but it's how I am.)

I discovered this week that an individual with whom I shared sensitive personal information in confidence has been telling others and swearing them to secrecy so that it doesn't get back to me.

You have no idea how furious this has made me. This is my private life, thank you very much. This betrayal (yes, harsh word, but I'm using it with purpose) cuts even deeper since this person gave me a very sensitive secret in return to seal our bargain of not-telling. It's a good thing I have integrity, because as far as I'm concerned this frees me from keeping their secret entrusted to me... but I'm not going to let it out. I'm a better person than that. Life is difficult for this individual right now, and their judgement is clouded, and the amount of alcohol poisoning their body chemistry isn't helping, but still -- someone's personal secret is someone's personal secret. No matter how bad your life is, you don't break a promise.

You don't do that to me. You don't betray a confidence. Not about something deeply personal.

I cannot possibly be expected to trust this individual in any type of situation from this moment forward. As of yesterday I've quietly cut ties to this person as best I can. From now on, we are polite acquaintances, no more.

They've lost a friend.

Dear Friends:

I love you all. I really, really do. I appreciate all the support and encouragement you've been throwing my way over the past eight weeks. I appreciate that you're all trying to make me feel better, and treat me to a night/day/afternoon off.

However.

Please, please, please stop calling/e-mailing/sending smoke signals to arrange a social event. I don't have the time. I'm booked up to my eyelashes in work and classes and appointments already. Once the manuscript is sent in next week, I'm going to need some serious down time, and for me down time means time spent utterly alone. Pure solitude. Not having to deal with people, however pleasant they may be, however enjoyable the outing they propose, however much I love them.

It's not personal. Well, yes it is: personal in the sense that this is how I work, this is how I've always worked, and it's not going to suddenly change. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me, as the saying goes, and turning down your offers of going out or spending time together is no reflection of how I feel about you. It's a sheer sanity-preservation technique. Social events (and that can include a quiet one-on-one over tea in your living room) are and have always been a stress for me. (Yes, marvel yet again at the psyche that can handle being onstage singing solo in front of 500 people, but can find a cup of tea with a friend challenging.) And right now (especially right now, as I'm in the last few days before deadline) and over the next couple of weeks, I will need space and solitude and time to not think about where I have to be or what's next on the schedule.

If you want to book me or us for something, I ask a favour: please don't bring it up until the end of March. Even people tossing out the general "we'd love to get together with you soon" is a stress-inducer at the moment. It feels like you're all lining up at the gate to burst out waving cups of tea, movie tickets, home-cooked meals, and pints of cider at me as soon as it lifts. It's rather intimidating.

All I need is space, dear readers. I know you love me, and I appreciate it deeply. I love you, too. I simply need time off.

Book Update

Total word count, Wicca book: 77,285
Total words today: 2,023

Back to bed.

Sigh

Well, evidently I wasn't able to find Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are dead on DVD for sale because it's out of print. The new edition is being released at the end of March.

The Light, It Burns...

Slowly emerging from complete shutdown mode after a meltdown thanks to a migraine of killer proportions.

Have I mentioned how glad I will be when this is all done? And also how I will vanish from the face of the earth as I nurse my scarred psyche back to some semblance of sanity?

Ironically enough, despite this anti-social vow, yet a third couple has booked us for dinner sometime this month. And I'm not counting going home for Easter weekend.

Snicker

Via BoingBoing comes the Unhappy Birthday project:

Did you know Happy Birthday is copyrighted and the copyright is currently owned and actively enforced by Time Warner?

Did you know that if you sing any copyrighted song:
...at a place open to the public
...or among a substantial number of people who are not family or friends
You are involved in a public performance of that work?

Did you know an unauthorized public performance is a form of copyright infringement?

While this would please people like Chantale and I who hate surprises, especially in public, the underlying mockery points to how ludicrous the whole licensing/control issue can/has become.

State of Miff

In a remarkably decent examination of one's proficiency in the correct use of commonly confused words of the English language, I scored 100% in the Beginner level, 100% in the Intermediate level, 100% in the Advanced level...

and only 55% in the Expert level.

I am miffed. Never mind that I scored higher in all four levels than 100% of the people in my age range who have also taken the test; never mind that the stats report that people in the 55-59 age range are the only ones who score higher than I did in the Expert level, and that I match their scores in the first three levels. I am still miffed.

Test statistics:

* Compared to users who took the test and are and in your age group:
o 100% had lower Beginner scores.
o 100% had lower Intermediate scores.
o 100% had lower Advanced scores.
o 100% had lower Expert scores.
* With respect to Beginner, users aged 55 to 59 scored highest.
* With respect to Intermediate, users aged 55 to 59 scored highest.
* With respect to Advanced, users aged 55 to 59 scored highest.
* With respect to Expert, users aged 55 to 59 scored highest.

This was the The Commonly Confused Words Test.