Can I please go home now?
Snow as far as the eye can see, which isn't very far, not if you're me. Oh, look. I made a rhyme. Anyway, more snow on the way, flurries. A world made of ice.
Especially wretched dreams this morning, and I'm still trying to shake them off.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,701 words on Chapter 5 of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir. Most of it was a letter from 1897, which is always fun. I inadvertently learned a lot about the history of postcards.
Last night, there was rp in Insilico. These days, rp pretty much always consists of me and one other, maybe two others, hidden away in a nook where we'll not be bothered by the scuttlefish. Later, Spooky and I watched Robert Schwentke's Red. It was fun. And no, I haven't read the graphic novel, and the first person who tells me it was so much better than the movie gets an unpleasant visit from a platypus brandishing red-hot weenie tongs.
Over and over and over,
Aunt Beast
Especially wretched dreams this morning, and I'm still trying to shake them off.
Yesterday, I wrote 1,701 words on Chapter 5 of The Drowning Girl: A Memoir. Most of it was a letter from 1897, which is always fun. I inadvertently learned a lot about the history of postcards.
Last night, there was rp in Insilico. These days, rp pretty much always consists of me and one other, maybe two others, hidden away in a nook where we'll not be bothered by the scuttlefish. Later, Spooky and I watched Robert Schwentke's Red. It was fun. And no, I haven't read the graphic novel, and the first person who tells me it was so much better than the movie gets an unpleasant visit from a platypus brandishing red-hot weenie tongs.
Over and over and over,
Aunt Beast