Been napping with Hobkin for most of the evening. I’m not sure if a seven pound fuzz creature on my chest has actually helped my bronchial clarity, but he was warm and soft. Until he stuck his nose in my ear.
Now, I’m a bit wired. I feel disjointed, like my thought processes are ricocheting around my head and colliding with each other. Bing. Maybe it’s just the fever.
I suspect I’m just going to ramble for a bit, so I’ll be merciful and put everything else behind an lj-cut.
Tried to get into my weekly DC2K writers chat, but Yahoo Groups was being evil. I could get into our chat, but no one else was there, even though I’d received emails from at least two other members saying “they were in and where was everyone else?” Bad Yahoo Groups. No biscuit.
Haven’t written anything since Thanksgiving. Been too sick, too busy, or just plain too. But I did assemble and mail no fewer than four submission packets this week on things I’d been sitting on, waiting for a good market for, or that had recently come home after being out and about. That’s sort of like being a productive writer. Hmm. Need to get some more word count going. Except not when I’m feeling delirious. But then again, why not? Prose from Eugie’s delirium might be good. It’s possible.
One of the other Phobos winners from this year (who’s also a winner from last year (!)), has started a Yahoo group for this year’s winners. An excellent idea. I like having a contact point with the other winners. Wonder if Phobos’ll have an award ceremony and reception to celebrate the release of the anthology like they did last year. If they do, I hope OSC will be there again.
Santa Claus is either in hiding, or has made a break for it. We’ve got this nice figurine of Santa that we usually have over the mantle. But we can’t find him. We think he was left over after putting away the Xmas decorations from last year and we put him away someplace obscure, and now we’re at a complete loss as to where he could have gone to. Maybe it’s a sign. Maybe we’re off Santa’s “nice” list. We’ve got a couple plush reindeer standing in for him. Poor Santa. Hope he’s not beating his fists against a box somewhere in our storage closet.
All righty, my fever’s beginning to peak again. Time for another nap.
I think Hobkin has kidnapped Santa.
Just my 2 cents.
Poor Santa! He’s probably got him hidden away somewhere and is slowly chewing off his nose . . .