Let the record show that Dana is a mean, mean woman. I had to look into the blog’s database to figure out how she got posting privileges; my first thought was that she’d pulled my password out of my head. But no. It looks like Callie figured out how to give her an account, so it’s a distaff conspiracy.
Thanks, everyone, for the expressions of concern. I’m actually somewhat flabbergasted that so many of you took the time to keep checking back. You’re cool.
I will talk more anon. There’s been some stuff worth catching you up on, and I hope to do that starting this weekend. (Random note: I’ve learned that a funeral is the best possible time to be invisible. Nobody wants to talk at things like that, but everyone feels they have to. If I had to I’d probably explode.)
But tonight I’m trying to polish up a story for an anthology deadline in a couple of days, and if I start to ramble here I won’t finish with the other thing. I’ve written a 4,000 word Bronze Age heroic epic that takes place at a hotel restaurant dinner table. How many people can say they’ve done that today?
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