February 20, 2008

Yesterday was pleasantly weird. Immediately as my work day wrapped up, Aric came trotting in the door telling me to grab my coat — because there was industrial equipment to be unloaded! Oh, I wasn’t going to help or anything, but I tagged along in order to spectate and cheer at the burly dudes who wrestled the 600-pound roaster out of a truck and into the basement of Fremont Coffee.

[For those who perhaps don’t keep up with my husband’s blog, he’s agreed to a part-time gig roasting beans over at that fine establishment; and for the last couple of months, he and the store owner have been scaring up equipment and hashing out the business plans.]

Following the liberation of the big old machine, we decided to do supper in nearby Ballard — where there’s a groovy little dive bar/restaurant called Bad Albert’s that makes the best damn fish sandwich in the world. I was introduced to this marvelous little hole-in-the-wall by a certain Kat Richardson, who lives right around the corner from it; and lo and behold, who should be sitting down to supper right as we walked in the door? Convenient! Impromptu collaborative dorkdom did ensue, with fish sandwiches and beer for all.

Also, we discussed writing. So it was totally a tax write-off.

Anyway, here are today’s stats for my noir vampire-fest:

Project: Awake Into Darkness (redux)
New Year’s Resolution Status: Safe.
New Words Today: 3134
Present Total Word Count: 6237 words
Goal: 100,000 words by July 1





Darling du Jour: “It interested him in a disconnected, pain-muddled way. There was a difference between the flailing, centrifugal pounding of the monstrous limbs and the precise, whistling crack of the skinny tool against his ribs.”

Things Accomplished in Fiction: Got 2/3 of the way through my opening scene, wherein our protagonist is dragged kicking and screaming out of his comfy little hidey hole and tossed into the middle of a conflict in which he has no interest whatsoever. He’s stuck, he’s scared, he’s pissed, and the sun is coming up in a couple of hours. If he successfully escapes from this, heads will roll, bounce, crack, smash and explode. Seriously. They should’ve left him alone.

Things Accomplished in Real Life: Important emails/phone calls undertaken; quick jaunt to grocery store for milk and butter; convinced cat that the maintenance man was not going to roast her on a spit; finished sorting tax documentation/paperwork that was begun yesterday, before husband came home and announced the need for immediate hurry.

Reason for Stopping: We still don’t have a functional closet, but the end is near — and there will be no further cutting, drilling, or sanding … so I’m going to whip out my dusting implement and clear some of the debris. Aric’s been as sick as a dog and my own allergies are on the warpath. Vegas odds suggest that the air quality in our home isn’t exactly helping the situation. After the mad dusting rampage, it’s vacuum time, y’all.

Total Fiction Words Composed in 2008: 94,789

Last Modified on February 20, 2008
this article February 20, 2008

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