day 6

2500 words: 1500 to close out chapter 2 (at 5100 total for chapter 2) and 1000 to open chapter three. to make what, about 11600 for the story as a whole, so far? is that a 1900 average? I want to get well over the 50K: if I wasn't working fulltime I'd be setting 60K as a firm goal for the month. I'd like to have a full first draft before Groundhog Day (a day I expect to be difficult to ive through as it is the anniversary of my mother's death).

Accomplished: some backstory and some of Yanek's "little soldier" training in chapter 2. Also, Ludmilla's science stuff, and both the mysterious tree images on Ludmilla's and Yanek's bellies.

I actually don't have a good explanation for those damned trees, but I seem to be wedded to them, and they keep producing more story-useful stuff.

I thought this chapter was going to get them all the way back to the capital and the Duchal Palace and Yanek being mistaken for a servant, but it looks like, as usual, it will take more words and more scenes to get from one place to another than I planned on. I guess we'll at least get the pony stuff out of the way and a couple of other revelations.

Also, I am sick. I have a sore throat and no voice (as opposed to almost no voice and intermittently I feel shaky and achy. I don't know if it's a virus I got from the young fellow, or a virus I got from the babies, or a reaction to the shots I got Friday. I don't usually get this marked of a reaction if that is what it is, but every shot is different. And yes, I would rather endure this, if it is a reaction, than take the chance of passing any of those potentially fatal diseases to the babies.

I feel as if I ought to weigh in on he beating video, and I might at some point say something tangentially related to it. But when I finally steeled myself to watch a bit of it, it crashed my browser, so I feel that I have been mercifully prevented from being able to comment directly on it. I do have things to say about parental authority, however -- even beyond the subject of corporal punishment (which as a child always sounded way too similar to "capital punishment"). I don't have time to elaborate, but here's a sneak preview: the best and truest authority is gained by not imposing yourself as an authority and the best obedience isn't obedience at all.

Zen mommying, huh!

can't sing, can't even talk

I don't feel sick till I try to do stuff but I have no voice at all. I talked to Emma when I took her to work but it was pointless - I don't know how she understood a word I was saying. I can whisper, and I can produce a tiny creaky unmelodious noise that sort of approaches speaking but it's exhausting and I can't imagine taking care of babies tomorrow like this. Recall that one of my most successful techniques for crowd management and transistions and routines and getting kids through the blues is the Stupid Little Song. And my early education philosophy is rooted in Talk to Them and Tell Them Stuff.

So I guess I'm texting my boss again. I want to say obscene things but I don't like any of the ones that come to mind.

On another front,it is difficult to find Derby Park, but we got there after I dropped Emma off and we had a lovely walk in the beautiful after-the-rain weather.

Also, I figured out what the hell the tree images on Ludmilla's and Yanek's bellies are all about. But I'm worried it's a complete game changer. What does it mean if their mother comes from a people who have been incorporating plant chromosomes into their bodies on an irregular basis for no particular reason for centuries?

I'm pretty sure they don't photosynthesize. Except maybe in emergencies?