It's official

I'm old. And wimpy.

Two (maybe three) glasses of wine last night and boy did my tongue get loosened. I really hope I didn't say anything too stoopid, but chances are that I turned Chatty Cathy. To make matters worse, I developed a pretty early wine headache and was in bed by midnight.

I am a party aminal. Rawr.

Strike that, reverse it.

I spent all day deciding three plus pages of a story were total crap. Once I'd figured out why I dreaded working on this particular piece and deleted that scene, I tried over and over and over to start the scene again. Try it again, with more feeling.

I've got nowhere. I think...ice cream would cure the block. Hmmmmm.