If anyone out there has any extra well-wishes, I could really use some.

I'm better! I have gotten over my bout with pleurisy and I actually feel like writing again! HOORAY!!!!

Sphinx Ink has tagged me to take part in a bloggers' meme.

According to the instructions:

I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.

• Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
• People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
• At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
• Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

So, onto the morsels of revelation!

1. I have multi-toned skin that has led many people to ask (or perhaps wonder silently) if I was burned during my childhood (I was not--just born this way). This has left me a wee bit self-conscious about displaying skin.

2. I have a bad habit of extensively researching new hobbies, purchasing all of the supplies I need for them, and then never using the stuff. (I am going to learn how to needle-felt. Really.)

3. When I doodle, I draw tiny faces. Two dots and a mouth, and I prefer to make everything just a little askew. Little smiling faces--or little annoyed faces, depending on my mood at that moment.

4. I like to think that I would be a sleek, graceful feline predator if I were an animal. Friends keep trying to disabuse me of this belief by insisting upon seeing me as a small fluffy brown bunny.

5. Movies and books with sad or tragic endings are to be avoided. They linger on my mind for an inordinate amount of time. I was a nervous wreck for a full day after watching Amadeus, and I once furiously buried a book in the back of my closet because the hero died and I didn't see it coming.

6. I love documentaries that give me insight about human behavior. Everything from shows about criminal behavior to interviews with exotic dancers.

7. My favorite and most often uttered word used to be "nifty". Much to the chagrin of family and friends who I've managed to startle in moments of delighted excitement, it is now "WOOT!"

8. I'm not particularly ambitious in the traditional sense. I have no desire to be a leader. I am, however, an EXCELLENT supporter. Giving other people happy moments makes me happy. You need someone to give you encouragement? I'm your woman! Yay, You!

If I can think of eight people to send this to, I'll edit this post with their names later.

Several years ago, I decided I wanted to be childlike.

I don't remember what exactly spurred this decision. I suspect it had something to do with a discussion I read about the difference between "childlike" and "childish". In any case, I had been much happier and friendlier when I was a wee person, a sharp contrast to the shy and reserved person I had grown into at the time of my decision.

So I decided that I wasn't going to be embarrassed to find joy in the little things in life. To stop and admire the geckos. To savor the chocolate muffin like it was meant to be savored. To always be open to learning something new. To embrace silliness and share its importance with others (often whether I know them or not).

Take the little happinesses when you can get them. Sometimes the big ones can be few and far between.

From Chapter 1 of my current Work in Progress:

Twelve armsmen, eight among them unblooded youngsters, none of them battle-tempered. Six archers aiming from window slits high above. Thirty-seven apparent noncombatants leaning over the battlements and peering from the windows--any could be armed.

Vey marked each person’s location in his mind. With practiced precision, he calculated the likely trajectories between them, his Queen and her handmaid, and his Brothers. The grounds outside the palace walls offered few places for defense, but the Brothers could move swiftly, and Halle would protect their Queen’s life with her own.

Standing orders were to avoid offensive engagement unless otherwise directed. Neutralize the enemy even when attacked. He had the advantage--his nearest opponent faced into the sun. Squinting against the sun’s glare, the guard shifted uneasily as his eyes darted from Vey to the other faceless Wraiths. A flash of light reflecting off of his sword heightened the nerves of the other guards; all raised their weapons higher to keep their uninvited guests in place.

Vey and his Brothers were motionless, waiting for their Queen’s command.

“My arrival has not been a surprise.” Within the circle of her protectors, his Queen’s voice was edged with displeasure. “The King of Eindeven has promised me the peace of his household.”

The guard who had halted their party, an officer by his wide-legged, dominant stance and by the symbols embroidered on his tunic, was unimpressed. “I’ll not let a force of armed assassins into His Majesty’s court,” he growled. “Your men surrender their weapons, or you leave the lot of ’em out here.”

A flicker of movement from high above caught Vey’s eye. One of the high windows that had been previously unoccupied now framed the figure of a late arrival. A woman.

She was darker-skinned than any woman he had ever seen. She was dressed with the plainness of a servant, unornamented, and unprotected. Her dark eyes were intent as she watched the conflict below, her lips slightly parted. When she leaned closer to the window, a shaft of sunlight brushed her skin, gilding it with honey.

Vey had tasted honey once. He’d been very young and very ill, unable to even look at food. The spoonful of dark, thick honey had been a heavy sweetness against his tongue, making his mouth water in spite of his lack of appetite. He had longed to ask for more.

Those of you who enjoy flashes from the past have to check out Miss Retro Modern's Photos. Simply divine.

Last night, around 1:45 AM, the engine in our apartment's air conditioning unit apparently fried itself. We awoke to find smoke pouring into the apartment through the vents and spent a few of the following hours getting to know the residents of our local firehouse.

We are, of course, left with an apartment covered in little strings of ash, clothes that smell like something unspeakable burned in them, and a hole in our ceiling. The apartment manager has said that she'll try to get the unit replaced by the end of the day. Meanwhile, the electricity to our apartment has been turned off; we spent the few hours before the morning at a friend's house, but we're unsure about what we're supposed to do next.

I'll probably take tomorrow off to start doing laundry or clean-up. Meanwhile, I'm trying to look at the silver linings--we woke up before the smoke could do untold damage to our lungs or kill us, and we still have most of our smoke-stained possessions.

Am I really supposed to be able to write through things like this?