ellenmillion

Kindergarten is the most splendid invention in the history of child-kind. I was worried that drop-offs would be like they were in pre-school, but it has been like whipped cream. I have to ask for a hug before she goes running off to find her friends in the morning. They have outdoor 'precess' that we drop them off at, and she's either merrily playing with other children, or hunting for them across the playground by the time I leave, all without so much as a backwards glance.

Not-a-book has been doing just fine: it was in the top 500 for a while, and has 20 five-star reviews already (and 1 4 star). If it goes as the others did historically, it will slip a bit, then may rock back up nicely in a few days as people who've downloaded it start reading it. The other books in the series are doing smashing as new readers catch up. I've got some advertising coming out next week to hopefully boost it, too.

I got the story for the anthology revised, and out to the anthology editor and also the Torn World board for a last continuity check. I added about 1500 words to it, and it's a much stronger story now. I hope all the editors like the changes I made. :)

In health, Guppy has been a little snuffy and coughing, and I have a tickle in the back of my throat this morning that I am hitting hard with Emergen-C and tea.

In grief, I continue to be sideswiped by unexpected pockets of painfully missing Norway, often while vacuuming. I still haven't been able to go through all the nice comments.



My mom knitted us matching scarves, aren't they fabulous? Winter is coming...

Off to do work!

In human years, being a Newfie, Norway would be 96 now. He's had a long, beautiful life, and chased many squirrels and barked at many moose.

That doesn't make it a lot easier to say goodbye.

He's been having trouble with his back legs since early this spring, and we've been trying to keep pace with pain meds. This last week, the problems got worse, and we knew that his time was coming. Sunday morning, he couldn't stand up by himself, and when lifted, his front legs gave out. He got out of the house, with help, took a few staggering steps into the grass, and found his spot to lie down for good. I spent the day brushing him and telling him what a good dog he was, and saying goodbye. (And ugly crying, and explaining death to a 5-year-old.)

It's hard, seeing where he loved to lie. I keep listening for his bark. I will undoubtedly walk out 'to get him' out of habit for a while. I'm going to miss him. I'm even going to miss vacuuming up his ridiculous fur.


(Click through for a larger version)

What follows is truly gratuitous picspam:
( Cut for those reading on Dreamwidth who do not need to see seven hundred photos of my dead dog. )