life, she is funny.

When you find yourself going to bed before 8pm, and you're not a morning-tv host, clearly the stress is getting to you. Me.

Except it's almost all good stress. Being on the verge of too many good things and wanting it all to happen, except it can't happen right now, and you don't have enough time or energy to make it happen under current circumstances, but you don't want to lose the chances cause they won't come back again. That kind of thing.

Just writing that last paragraph made my stomach hurt. My stomach hurts a lot lately.

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My hub has great clarity lately. This morning, he told me to look way down the road, not at my feet. Keep your eye on the prize.

My stomach still hurts.

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In other news, I'm completely obsessed with Lyra and Pantalaimon and Mr. P. Pullman, whose voice is like warm honey. I've been too busy/distracted/frazzled to change the sidebar, but I'm into book two of the trilogy and am completely captivated.

I saw a very cute guy reading book one in the Starbucks last week. From England, he was -- said he started reading them because he'd seen the stage play adaptations of the book. I'd be interested to see them too, but first I really want to savor all three books, unabridged.

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The silk lace swatching has progressed into a test knit, and I have to tell you...I'm quite excited.

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Work continues on the No Sheep shortlist. This book is shaping up, people. Rock.

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Next weekend, TNNA. San Diego, in the middle of January. With J. OH, the shmoozing that will ensue! I can't believe it, really. This won't be anything like the indulgent decadence that was Rhinebeck, but it will be great fun just the same. Time to polish off the business cards!

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On the bunny front, knocking wood, all is well. Stitches are to be removed this Friday morning. Already we've seen increased signs of affection [and less squabbling] between them -- through the bars -- thanks to the removal of the hormone-producing bits.

I wonder what kind of world it would be altogether without estrogen and testosterone? Maybe we'd all get along.

Where the hell are the tiny violins when I need them? [my stomach hurts.]