Cotton wool stuffing my skull. Stuffed nose. At least the cold doesn’t seem to be getting any worse. I can still hit the treadmill in the mornings, which is a step up from the last round–that was the Travel Cold From Hell. *shivers* Ugh.

I am in the stage of writing a Kismet book where I have an acute attack of nerves. Nobody’s going to like it, I don’t know what I’m doing, who do I think I am… The usual. The good thing is that I’ve done this so many times by now that I’m prepared for the emotional upheaval. The bad news is…emotional upheaval. And I’ve been writing this book under acid-test conditions, as it were.

I just keep reminding myself: if I could go through pregnancy, 11+ years of being a mother, and getting published in the first place, this is small potatoes. Well, maybe small yams. Or something. I’ve done this before, I can do it again.

Last night I did some yoga on the Wii. It was actually really cool. I’m avoiding Downward Dog (the trainer tells you to put half the weight on your arms, instead of keeping most of it in your legs) and the shoulderstand (what, do I look like I shoulderstand? Not on your life, buddy). But the Palm Tree, Sun Salutation, Grounded V, Chair Pose? Oh yeah. Those I can do. And I feel so good after it’s finished–I think it’s the deep breathing.

Of course, doing yoga with a head cold is hilarious. If only because of the noises one’s nose makes during the deep breathing section of the festivities.

And now, because I’m sure you’re bored of hearing about All That, a link!

Very short stories, courtesy of Wired. com. I love these, especially Margaret Atwood’s. I found a book of 50-word stories once, including one (maybe by Chekhov?) about a woman named for a wolf. When you have so few words, each one counts for more than itself.

And with that, I’m taking myself off to a lunch of tomato soup and yesterday’s bread. Yum. I just wish I could taste it through this damn cold.

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