"Even Nostradamus didn't see him coming!"

We're over 7k page hits, thank you.  That's a nice way to start a very dreary day.  And it is dreary.  Foggy, raining, and cold.  It's the sort of day that would be fun in the woods, if you were dressed appropriately, because the daytime fog is wispy and hides things and you can imagine anything from an alien invasion to the zombie conversion with stalking secret agents and hobbits in between.

But I don't live in the woods.  And my joints hurt.  Not badly enough to complain, just enough to make me prefer boating weather.

Today is #4's first basketball game.  We're pretty excited about that.  I fueled him up with biscuits and gravy this morning (actually, #3 and I had the biscuits -- #4 had biscuits and chicken).  Why do I always want to spell biscuits with a 'q'?

I've been working on a short story -- a real short story (>4k words) -- on the train this week and when I got home last night I was almost done so I hammered out the last bit.  I wanted to see how it ended.  That may sound funny, it was my story, but it's true.  I've read more than one professional writer say that if you don't have an emotional reaction to your writing, nobody else will too.  Other pros have written that, as the author, you're the first person who gets to hear/read/see the story.  What they are all saying is that when we sit down to write, there's an idea -- sort of an image of the story and characters or scene -- but it lacks definition.  The act of writing brings it into focus and creates a narrative line rather than a tangled ball of string.

That's what happened with my story, working title of "Intention".  I've had this idea for a bit of technology and a very rough idea of how it might be used, but no setting or plot.  Then I was told about an interesting encounter IRL and that served as my inciting incident.  With that, the rest just unraveled.  It was a very neat experience.