now fortified with impotent fury!risperdal

So, I dropped off the face of the earth. I have an excuse. I was doing NaNoWriMo, and doing it quietly, because doing it in a month where the Lad had to go out of town to a conference, I had to go out of town, the inlaws were here, I had to cook Thanksgiving twice, and King of the Hill People was coming in for actual Thanksgiving was completely insane, and so I didn’t want to talk about it and then not finish and feel like an ass.

So I didn’t talk about it, except with a few unlucky dirty chat whores. And I finished. About 4 hours ago. Fifty thousand and fifty nine words, each and every one of them poorly chosen, assy, and pointless, but they’re all mineminemine and I can now say I’ve done it. Mark one thing off of the things to do in this lifetime list, except honestly, ‘write a piece of crap 50,000 word novel’ wasn’t on there, and I sure don’t feel any more valid as a writer, certainly not a writer on the level of R or Leather Pants Grrl, but hell, I did it. Who knew, I had 50,000 words of story in me.

And then some. Because it begs for more. I might get to it, even, in about 8 years.

Tomorrow, dear readers, I shall write about fun things. Like the baby’s attempts to crawl and newfound ability to hurl plums several feet, Munchkin (even without the benefit of eggnog, the thought of a level 9 Santa made badder by being FROM HELL, with an added +5 bonus against a Cleric, is just riotously funny, even if my opponent at the time didn’t agree), and the fact that I’m considering shucking the exciting, dramatic life of a consultant for steady gainful employ.

Except I’ll write about that on Tuesday, because tomorrow is World AIDS Day, and that’s damn important. I’ll be particpating in Link and Think, and I strongly encourage y’all to do the same, if you have a web presence. Mwah.

Ah, professional conferences. The intrigue. The drama. The drunken debauchery when you’re not on a museum’s dime. Add to it my husband being in CA sweating through three presentations at a ginormous scientific conference, and my inlaws manning the fort at home, and all sorts of hijinks can result.

Like the baby learning to sit up.

But for details on my weekend, click below.

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Details later. For now, witness what a fancy schmancy liberal arts BA and MS in a hard science can get you. Mercifully, I’m the one hugging the giant muppet, not the one in the muppet costume.

Once again, I disappear. Sorry folks. First off, bidness:

-The Kegerator clumps happily along, unaware of what’s going on, andd happy and dopey and barking at leaves and squirrels and demanding scritches from mom. Thanks for the black walnut suggestion, it’s been passed along. And mmm, champagne marmalade- astrianna, I’ll save that for when I truly need it. Gracias, though, much appreciated.

-The client is moving cash from one paid project to ME, so that I will get done for them what needs be done in time for the conference. We may negotiate my continued involvement on the new gig face to face next weekend, rather than every other negotiation we’ve had which has been via phone, email, and angry singing telegram. Cross your fingers, folks.

Secondly, life continues apace here. I’ll be scarce while helping the lad prep for his big conference, getting ready for his parents to arrive, then scampering off to my own big conference. Yes, we’re leaving the baby with the grandparents for the weekend and it’s not for a fucking vacation for us! Don’t get me started. I find this wrong wrong wrong. There should be hot monkey sex involved, and instead the Lad will be standing for hours on end discussing the intracacies of biological data analysis, and I’ll be spending 10+ hours per day on my feet schmoozing. Mrowrf. I have finally found a spa and massage therapist I like here, one who has satisfactorily reduced me to a boneless chicken (ala the Far Side boneless chicken ranch cartoon). The salon side of the house is chi chi and way too full of itself, but the spa is quiet and fabulous and pampering. Let’s hope the relaxation lasts through until tomorrow, much less my 9:20 am Friday flight to frackin Minneapolis.

More later, bebe duty calls.