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It's spring. I have snowdrops.
Eric is out of town, and I am taking care of the cat.
A total of about 300 words on the book in the past few days. I am really feeling my way with this conversation, and for the first time am smitten with a feeling I know I will have again -- there are too many characters in this damn book.
Watched an episode of "Angel" with Raphael last night, after a hiatus, which was exceedingly pleasant. Eye-goggling episode, too. I've got to say, I still think the writers have a very incomplete control of tone, though maybe their senses of humor, irony, and where the line is between the funny and the awful, and how one walks it, is just very much displaced from mine.
I think Neil Gaiman and John M. Ford get it right, and I don't think "Angel" does; "Buffy also regularly fails on this point.
This affliction I have, which forgot its hat and mittens and is still hanging around in the hall, is just so weird. My throat gets sore at night. Until last night, it got so sore that I had to take ibuprofen so I could sleep. Last night it wasn't that bad, and weirdly, so very weirdly, it was fine in the morning. I have no idea what in the world this is about. No fever, diminishing cough, increasing energy, okay, whatever it is it is going away, but why is it so very weird?
Yes, I really do know how to spell that word, don't I? Aren't I clever?
Must get coffee now.
Pamela
Eric is out of town, and I am taking care of the cat.
A total of about 300 words on the book in the past few days. I am really feeling my way with this conversation, and for the first time am smitten with a feeling I know I will have again -- there are too many characters in this damn book.
Watched an episode of "Angel" with Raphael last night, after a hiatus, which was exceedingly pleasant. Eye-goggling episode, too. I've got to say, I still think the writers have a very incomplete control of tone, though maybe their senses of humor, irony, and where the line is between the funny and the awful, and how one walks it, is just very much displaced from mine.
I think Neil Gaiman and John M. Ford get it right, and I don't think "Angel" does; "Buffy also regularly fails on this point.
This affliction I have, which forgot its hat and mittens and is still hanging around in the hall, is just so weird. My throat gets sore at night. Until last night, it got so sore that I had to take ibuprofen so I could sleep. Last night it wasn't that bad, and weirdly, so very weirdly, it was fine in the morning. I have no idea what in the world this is about. No fever, diminishing cough, increasing energy, okay, whatever it is it is going away, but why is it so very weird?
Yes, I really do know how to spell that word, don't I? Aren't I clever?
Must get coffee now.
Pamela
