Okay, so I was gearing up for a good weekend of writing related activities. Mowed lawn last night (before the rain) so I wouldn't need to do that. Was going to scrub the bathrooms (yes, I share some of the household chores) tonight. I was able to actually put the garbage out. Did I forget to mention I went home last night relatively on time, took a serious ribbing for only having 1.5 hours of overtime ("Yep, I'm making it a half day today," grin). Mom's at home and being looked after. The new computer is up and running (need to switch out).
I've got about a hundred pages to read and get ready to critique for the 20th. I'm psyched to get back to typing, been writing notes about stories. I'm back to wondering just why I haven't put Running of the Deer in an envelope. I sent off the query to Weird Tales last night. I should hear if and how I can help out an editor by transfering their World Fanatsy Membership and hotel room so I can finalize that.
And then I remember it's Mother's Day this weekend. (honk honk screech CRASH!). I love my Mom. But the trip down will suck up a whole day, and leave me tired the next. ARGH! Yes, Mom, I remember how tough my delivery was (I was a blue baby). Mom raised my brother and I single-handedly. Mom's still not all right. Sigh. Yes, Mom, I'm comming down. She doesn't read this blog, but she can hear me typing this. I know she can.