Man, I'm fed up with the taste of salt. Because of my tooth removal fun, I've had to soak the wound with salty water half a dozen times a day. The taste lingers for hours afterwards and ruins the taste of everything else. It blends rather unpleasantly with the taste of my new filling. Only a couple more days of the salt water, thank God. And I'm not even bleeding anymore. Next month I get to go through it all again with the wisdom tooth on the other side of my mouth.

The good news is that I'm back to writing again. Yesterday I bit the bullet (about the only thing I can bite at the moment, and then only metaphorically), and started to write a synopsis for my last novel. I thought it would take forever, but I finished it this morning. Okay, it's the first draft and it's too long, but now I have something to work with. Soon I can do some serious agent querying. And I can get back to my new novel tomorrow.

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So, we watched El Mariachi last night, and to be honest it was...well...crap. I know it was a very low budget, first movie by director, and so on, but it was still crap. The "hero" was so stupid I thought he'd forget to breathe. And what was with the random dream sequences? And can the baddies be really that bad shots?

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We're going to a 1940s night at the village hall tonight. It should be interesting. Or something. Ah, weren't those days wonderful. The bombs! The death! The poverty! Great days. Great days.