Oh, the Gulag is alive and well! You can tell Putin’s continuing the grand old Chekist tradition, with only a few nods to modern conditions. One might almost admire that sort of fidelity to premodern institutions.
Last night the temperature fell to just around freezing. I’m hoping the hostas made it. The only trouble with warm, clear days is the heat escapes once the sun goes down. In summer you don’t want a cloudy night trapping it all near the ground, in winter, you do. (Or at least, I do.)
*sigh* Today is for more Cal & Trinity, and Blood Call revisions. The interesting thing about Blood Call: it started at a dinner with my writing partner. I had this idea: contract killer gets frantic call from ex-girlfriend, and then, VAMPIRES!
There may have been wine involved. Anyway, I wrote it in a furious scribble between a couple Valentine books and kept tinkering with it afterward, and now it’s sold. (All hail my beautiful, wonderful agent.)
Other than that, I have to take down a lot of fluids to stave off the cold threatening to engulf my immune system. I keep drinking water hoping it will help my body hose off the sidewalks, so to speak. I can’t afford to get sick for at least a couple months.
Onward, upward, inward, as CS Lewis would have it…
WHO STILL OWES ME A JOSIAH STORY, DAMMIT. But I can wait. I really can. No, I can. *waits*