Not a productive day

I've got to quit this not sleeping well. Maybe it's the absentminded consumption of caffeine after five p.m. I should watch that.

I took Aristophanes outside today. He was not best pleased by the snow on the leaves and grass, but found some nice dusty dry patches to roll in, and sniffed vigorously at various objects, and pawed at the back door before I got bored and had to annoy his dignity by scooping him up. Arwen sat at the top of the basement steps looking wistful while I put his harness on, but I unfortunately can't be taking three cats for walks, and if Arwen goes Naomi has to go too, I think.

I got over to Eric's to see to Toliman rather later than usual, and he was fairly vociferous; also monumentally purry. He sat next to me on the bed and kneaded the pillow and purred steadily for half an hour. He didn't want to be petted all that time, but he purred.

There were a lot of crows in Stevens Square Park, making a great many editorial remarks about the universe.

I came home by way of the grocery store, and later went out again because we were out of dishwasher detergent. I'm not sure I have done anything else of note, except find where I left A PRIDE OF HEROES and start in reading it again; also watched a couple of "Buffy" episodes. Laundry, I guess, a bit of that. But really, that's not much of a day. Feh.

Pamela

Aha!

Three hundred words written; salmon baked with onions and garlic and ginger and soy sauce and olive oil, also baked sweet potatoes and steamed broccoli, for dinner; a nice visit with my mother; Toliman cossetted; more laundry done; and it is only a quarter to nine. I forgot to go for my walk, however. And it was such a nice warm day, bitter east wind or not.

The words are arriving in a disconcertingly polished state; I suppose the back of my head, not very reliable over the long run, has decided to wake up and do a spot of work. Long may it wave.

Eric called when I was actually home, too, and I feel much much happier for a conversation. He sounds beautifully relaxed, which after all is the point of a vacation.

A year ago he was in Minneapolis and we had exchanged email but had not actually seen one another yet. We would actually meet in person for the first time in about eleven years at the Minn-Stf New Year's Eve party.

Twenty years ago, David and I were on the eve of our wedding. We went with Will and Emma to Steven and Reen Brust's house to have a splendid dinner and to discuss whether the six of us might manage to put together some kind of combined household that would not drive any of us crazy. (Answer: No.) There had been a tremendous blizzard not long before, so tremendous that my great-aunts and second cousin and family had cancelled their plans to attend the wedding. The moon was near full and glittered on the heaped snow.

My first novel was at Ace, but it had not yet been bought.

I think I should write faster.

Pamela