When one sets the oven at 350 degrees and puts a cookie sheet in it for ten minutes or so, one may reliably expect that the cookie sheet, being made of metal, a substance well-known for its conducive properties, will be hot when one wishes to extricate it for the purpose of ascertaining whether or not one's cookies are in fact finished baking.

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow.

I went running today for the first time in a little over a week. Last time I went, I managed to hurt my ankle somehow by, apparently, the extreme sport madness of jogging downhill. I've been using the low-impact elliptical machine rather than running to try and coddle it, and it seemed to be doing much better, hence the running this morning. I got a twinge or two during the run, then it seemed to be fine, and now it aches. So I guess I need to continue to use the elliptical for a while.

But I vastly prefer running, at least in this weather (it was about 65 degrees out this morning.) I like the changing scenery, and it always seems to jog (ha) loose ideas. I've become acquainted with the neighborhood's free-range cats. I saw one chase a squirrel up a tree today, unsuccessfully, from the cat's point of view. The squirrel then chittered at the cat, which washed a leg in the feline I-meant-to-do-that response. I got harangued by another squirrel, I think for intruding upon its territory, or perhaps looking too meaningfully at its acorns.

The Wild Kingdomest moment I've experienced in my neighborhood happened a few weeks ago. A number of birds (I think sparrows, but I don't know. Definitely not pigeons.) gathered on a rooftop. Suddenly and seemingly out of nowhere, a hawk dove, talons outstretched, and snatched one up and flew off with it.

All of this to say I really hope my ankle gets better soon. I miss roaming the outdoors.

When I got out of the shower today, I didn't immediately put on my glasses. This proved to be a tactical error as I then wanged my foot into an inconvenient wooden box, thereby giving the second-smallest toe on my left foot a fairly substantial wallop. It hurts. It's turning all manner of interesting colors, and swelling up most interestingly. Every time I step on it, I wonder if it's broken, but then I decide that I'd know if it were. It's caused me to rethink a pivotal scene, however. I've got a character being far too stoic about a serious injury. I'm hissing and cursing over a jammed toe, so... So maybe I should be glad to be so klutzy.

The revision is coming along, if by coming along one means just started. I'm totally rewriting the first few chapters because the writing is crap, and I'm so glad. I just rewrote the first couple of scenes and they are so much better, there's no comparison.

Then I'll cruise along pruning and/or adding subplots and characters as needed for several chapters, and then the ending gets an even bigger rewrite because I figured out a much more satisfying way to end it. I am pleased with it in note form, although it might change on the page. This one particular character kept showing up everywhere except at the end, and this way he'll get in there and not be a loose-hanging thread.

But I'm stopping for tonight and taking a book to the couch, where I will think dire thoughts about the evil wooden box that mained my foot.

In an incident in which I perpetrated wedding dancing back in April, I fell on my right thumb. It has been just fine for a month or so, and then yesterday I woke up and it was mysteriously hurting again, and I don't know why. I did not, to my recollection, wang it into anything. It just hurts.

Also yesterday, I spent four hours and a not-insignificant sum at Express Oil. My oil change with a "could you look at the ac? I think it needs more freon" became a replaced ac hose and new brake pads for the back brakes, in addition to our regularly scheduled oil change. Four hours in a waiting room with a not-quite-two year old (22 months today!) is, I am convinced, much longer than, say, four hours reading a good book. I'm sure my toddler is convinced, too. We walked around for a little, but I didn't have the stroller, so our movements were limited. We did visit the neighborhood Starbucks. It was okay. I may be alone in this sentiment, but I really dislike their coffee. It all tastes burnt to me.

Yesterday my mood was such that I only wrote a couple hundred words before I gave up. Today has already been much better. Me and my sore thumb are off to make dinner and write some stuff.

1. I just broke my teapot. Dammit! Torrow I shall quest for a new one. This was a Christmas gift from my father in law, and it only made it to May. Poop.

2. I cut my thumb with scissors today, because I am an idiot.

3. I burnt a fingertip yesterday; see above.

4. Still sick. Better than before but...

5. Despite all this, just had a lovely dinner with my folks. The Tiny Human, he enjoys restaurants. Way cool.

6. Now, to the word processor. Ahoy!

Well, I feel like ass. Hot ass on a stick, in fact. (Not sexy hot. Fever hot.)

I woke up yesterday morning feeling as though I'd slept with my mouth open, and as the day went on it got worse, and then I started hacking up pieces of yucky green phlegm. GREEN PHLEGM, Y'ALL. And most of today I've spent with a delightful drip of yuk right down my sinuses and into my throat. Aaaaaaand my muscles ache, and even my skin aches. My brastrap and the waistband of my jeans hurt earlier. Bleh.

I am feeling better now than I did this morning, when all I wanted to do was lie flat on the floor and hurt. Of course, you can't do that when your companion is a 20 month old who wants to run around and get into stuff all day. Poor guy. Today was not my best mommy day, either.

Yesterday, I got 1837 words, which is GREAT for me this May. My May wordcount will not bring the ebulliance that April's did, I predict. Oh well. Now to see if I can get a little done before I succumb to the sweet sweet lure of the couch.

 Despite the tornado warning, we made it to the airport in plenty of time to get through security.  We had a great time at the wedding.  It was in this really neat old house with lots of beautiful rooms and many exciting nooks and crannies.  Really gorgeous if one likes that kind of thing, and I do.

Alas for my general level of grace, the dance floor was a beautiful green slick marble.  Dancing + wine + high heels + clumsy + marble floor = bad.  I slipped, caught myself with my right hand, stood up, de-shoed, and recommenced dancing.  By the time we got back to the hotel, my hand was painful and swollen, and it was far worse the next day.  

Sunday morning we had brunch with the relatives, (delightful! And there was coffee!  Thank god!) and then hopped back on a plane to come home.  I brought a notebook, but wasn't really able to hold a pen very well, so I settled back to enjoy the guy next to me reading the NYTimes without folding it in half and therefore very much in my personal space.  I think he was farsighted, because he held it at arms' length against the seats in front of both of us, thereby pushing his arm into mine.  Random stranger, please don't touch me.

Anyway.

I did get some writing done on the trip, probably around 1500 words.  I can focus much better when I don't have internet access, e.g. in the hotel room where they'll charge you for it.

Yesterday, I got 1231 words, and right now I have 1007 for the day, with a possibility of more later.  My thumb is only today de-swelling enough to bruise, but it doesn't bother me to type, for whatever reason.   I'm grateful.

Also, I'm now 26,000-ish words into Brenin's story and haven't quite figured out how I need to structure this bad boy.  I'm kinda planning on winging it and coming back later.  Is that bad?