A day late. Naturally.

But I have an excuse! (Not a pretty one, seeing that it involved my grandmother's funeral, but I believe I get full credit.)

Staining Snow in honor of Pixel-Stained Technopeasant Day.

My heavens, time is flashing right past my eyes.

This is not in a good way, either. There's been a lot of family stress in several places, including my grandmother's dying, which we hope will prove sooner than later. The fact that she's not eating can be seen as a good thing. The fact that her heart is strong is a bad thing. Hopefully, she won't last two weeks like my maternal grandfather did. I wouldn't wish starvation on anyone.

There's other stuff, but what can I say? We're adapting to the new knowledge, and hopefully, proceeding accordingly.

Did I mention the cold that slammed me on Friday? Yes, another reaction to stress. With the Zicam, however, I'm to the hoarse voice stage, and with luck, will be through the damn thing by Friday, when the class goes to the zoo.

Still, the nice thing about being stressed is that I have words to show for it. 1.1K on a new SF story. We'll see how it goes. The first scene (!) is almost done, and I've got seven more. I'm hoping to keep the entire thing until 7K but I keep looking at the first scene's length and wondering.

This morning, I actually went to the 'orkshop and critted something. I have no idea when the last time was. But it was time for me to hone the old critiquing skills.

We've had nothing but people in and people out on this bathroom remodel. All of them want our money. All of them have wonderful ways of spending it, and Venetian plaster is my latest enthusiasm. Oh, my god. It's a lovely, lovely finish on a wall. Yes, it's really that smooth and has that sheen. We're putting it behind the tub, and if I get my way, on a few select other walls of the house as we move through the remodeling process.

Mostly though, I'm just tired. And why shouldn't I be, hrm?

Life is moving too fast again. I need another vacation, and I just had one.

David and Ian took first place in their Adventure Race at the Collegiate Nationals.

Now with proof!

(David's the fuzzy one on the left.)

I had an extremely exciting 5A wake-up call this morning by a cold nose on my bare back. I thought it was the dog, and I ignored him. It was far too early for breakfast.

After something crashed, I poked the Spousling to ask if he hadn't heard anything. No, he had not. And to prove it, he fell back to sleep, leaving me to stand guard.

The noises continued and moved to the corner by the television.

I switched on the light and jumped out of bed to investigate (because I am stupid like that.)

So I screamed.

Something the size of my hand, gray, and extremely fast ran towards me, then veered aside.

I leaped back into bed and buried myself under covers (because covers, of course, provide protection from all sorts of things, including nocturnal visitors.)

Then I guilted the Spousling into protecting me.

He found nothing but an overturned lamp on his chest of drawers.

But I know. It was a visiting rat. Who came and nuzzled my bare back with its cold, whiskery nose.

(I have still not recovered. And DAMN, THAT BATHROOM IS GOING TO BE FINISHED ASAP.)

So I slept with the lights on, figuring no rat in his right mind would come out into a well-lit room. Particularly when inhabited by a nervous human who was prone to wakefulness.

Wrong, AGAIN.

The devastation from last night included the plastic nose pieces on the Spousling's glasses, which he discovered on the window ledge. (This is actually good; the Spousling has declared war.) In addition, our guest managed to trip both traps set for his entertainment, and escaped from the wildly excited dog (Ooooh, look! An intruder! *barkbarkbarkbark*I'msavingyou!*barkbarkbark*) into the laundry room, where it is supposedly holed up.

No, I'm not going in there. And if it's NOT there, you will hear screaming later.

Harley was intrigued by the trap, because the Spousling had set it with one of his tiny dog food bones. He is somewhat more nervous about mousetraps now. Not enough to leave it along when it has food on it, but the loud snap will reinforce avoidance should he make another attempt.

Meanwhile, I am jumping at anything that moves in my peripheral vision—dogs, fluttering papers, clumps of drifting dog fur.

Note: The Spousling is still referring to it as a mouse. Obviously, it's time for new lenses in addition to those nose pieces.