in the summertime

I'm pumping my word count -- 12,000 and a little bit. Of course, I started with about 8,000 for the most recent NaNoWriMo exercise, but still, I'm chuffed. 12,000 down, somewhere between 38K and 53K to go, depending on how things shape. For example: The Great Gatsby is about 50K. TC Boyles' The Women (which is on my nightstand now and which will likely stay there since I'm finding it tedious) is about twice that. There are about 250 words to a printed page.

Beau, on the other hand, has about all he can manage just working on his tan.

as I was saying

Remember that the blog has been languishing since -- eek! -- April. Check.

Think that it might be well to get started again, howsoever modestly. Check.

Remember how to sign in. Check.

Sign in on the sly while my collaborator is gone walkabout (shh, don't tell Stella . . . yet) in this heat. Check.

Post a recent work from her String Theory series because when she finds out I've been blogging without her there will be sulking. And in this heat.

Realize that it has taken way too long to remember how to do this, but then it was never one of those so-called intuitive processes in the first place. Check.

Consider announcing that I've quit my job and that before looking for another, I plan to finish a draft of the novel I've wanted to write since I was 14. Not this particular novel since I was 14, but a novel since I was 14. [check?]

Mention that I have been collecting a huge pile o' fabric in anticipation of taking a class during the week of the 18th with Nancy Crow who is some kind of genius and who requires this. Promise "more about this later." Check.

That's probably enough for now.
Did I mention that it's hot?

Check.