If I pray really tight, get into a fake bar fight

Today I mailed off a set of contracts for a short story - my first sale of the year! - so that's a nice way to start the week. (I'll give you details on the matter when I receive the all-clear to do so, but I'm not sure when that will be.) While I was at it, I mailed off some IRS paperwork to my agent's office, too. Less thrilling, yes. But part of that ever-necessary Writing Business thing I sometimes allude to.

I also spent a while on the phone with a distant friend, alternately gossiping and plotting shenanigans, but such is the way of these things.

Other than that, it's mostly been emails and print-outs and whatnot - getting ready for ChattaCon on Friday. It looks like I'm not very heavily scheduled - though an off-site radio interview and a (separate) meeting with a journalist have now been shoe-horned into the mix, so the days won't be quite as sparse as I thought, and that's nice.

I'm honestly looking forward to it!

I have friends crashing in my guest room (which will be awesomely fun), and for once the convention is within easy driving distance of home. (Walking distance, even - if it weren't so damn cold and if I were somewhat less lazy.) I won't have to live on vending machines, con suite snacks, and hotel bar food!

[:: throws confetti ::]

Hmm....what else? Let's see.

As of late, Greyson is taking a measured, long-game approach to making friends with Spainy. He creeps up to her, as close as she'll let him get, inch by inch ... and when he's reasonably sure he can't push his luck any farther, he lies down and takes a nap. If she doesn't yell at him or wander off immediately, then he "wins." Or I think that's the gist, anyway.

As you can see, it's working out pretty well. She still fusses at him sometimes, but he's a smart puppy - and now he's learning to be a patient one.