I Must Smell It
“What is that?” the Little Prince asks.
“It’s apple juice. Drink up.” I’m focused on the next thing: a cup of blessed coffee to wake me up. I’ve got chili to make, because we’re probably having company for dinner. And it’s tango night, too.
“I have to smell it.” Which he proceeds to do.
You’ve been drinking it for years, kid. “It smells good.”
“It smells like blueberry.” Thoughtful pause. “I drink it.”
Kids. Priceless.
We’re snowed in again today. School is canceled, though the DHM tells me the roads are okay once you get out of Vancouver. The cold I’ve been fighting off is responding well to a bit more sleep than I usually get–I’ve been going to bed, dog-tired, before midnight each night. I’m writing in a sort of fevered state I recognize from Dead Man Rising.
Two and a half thousand words yesterday. Yay! I’m not measuring progress merely by word count; the story’s moving. Japh’s about to get battered all to hell. And Danny? Let’s just say she’s beginning to have some serious anger management issues.
I love messing with my characters.
Meanwhile, the kids are looking forward to hot chocolate and snowman building (the Prince and Princess) and a day spent moping around the house with a book or two and a sketchpad (the Surly Teen.) Later on, of course, the Teen will be staring at World of Warcraft before I ask him for help with dinner.
All in all, this will be an enjoyable day. I just hope the mail comes through, finally.
Stay warm out there, Readers.
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