Hey, pretty...

Got home yesterday to my contributor's copies of the Spring 2010 issue of On Spec, which contains fiction from wistling, tinaconnolly, Kate Riedel, several authors I haven't had the pleasure of acquaintance with yet, and "A Thousand", which is a story about paper cranes, Vancouver, bad communication, and the subtleties of cultural-social expectations. It has an especially lovely cover this quarter.



I take this to mean that if you, the reader, wish to purchase this fine assemblage of wordstuffs, you can probably get it at your local magazine concern around...now.

Otherwise? The sprained ankle is a lot less swollen today, and actually held up for walking home from the movies last night, which is no small feat. It's still bruised, and so is my knee, which appparently isn't happy about the whole scene either; we got yer damaged soft tissue here. I'm going to try to hold off on any overly walky errands until at least the weekend, to give it time to calm down a little more. This renders me lazy and useless, which I hate, but Management recognizes that there's really not a lot to do about it. Except the filing, which can be done from a seated position. :p

Hopefully an update that contains wordcount this evening.