Have spent some nice time at home with Squish–got another chance to go to the gym this morning, and in spite of the fact that the light is thin and gold and the sky is Easter-basket-blue, the pool was actually very pleasant. Squish was excited to see people besides mom (she’s very social– not going to day care is killing her)and that was nice. Didn’t stop her from being a bossy little bint for the rest of the day, but, well, she got some time being everybody’s favorite social butterfly at the gym daycare–they adore her!
Do you like the new cover? It’s the ‘mystery project’ I was working on– Elizabeth showed me the cover, and I wrote the story and ohhhhhhhh…
Okay, if I gave a straight-out plot synopsis, it would sound unforgivably like something you’d find on skinemax, if they did m/m–but in execution? I’m proud of this one. Just am… showing character when one character is taciturn and another is, heLLO, cursed with silence WHEN he gets to be human, and the third is the narrator… well, it was tricky, and I used that thing I do that actually furthers plot and… well…
I think it’s beautiful. The last chapter has made people–snarky, crusty, no-tears sort of people–get sniffly for what they claim is no reason at all.
I take it as a high complement–I can make people cry in a good way. Not bad, yeah?
In “This is sort of weird” news, I was driving Squish to dance lessons, and she had finally (thank dog!) fallen asleep, and I was knitting at a stoplight, with the windows open (still no a/c) when suddenly a voice goes, “Hey! Do you want to get that bodywork done on the side of the van?”
“I can do it for $150…”
“Is that too much? How much CAN you pay?”
“I have to take my kid to dance lessons now! Thanks for asking!”
And my favorite conversation of the week:
Mate: Is Steve in the garage?
Me: I didn’t think so.
Mate: Yeah… she’s in the garage. (Opens garage door.) See?
Me: I thought she’d come in from her morning break-out.
Mate: Do you know how I knew it was her?
Me: Not a clue.
Mate: I heard something large crash to the floor.
Me (looking at Steve, who looks very innocent): That’s Steve.