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Our poor sick kid. I'm told he spent most of yesterday just sitting around, vaguely moaning, and occasionally breaking out in hives. When I got home from work I found a very sleepy little kid who was happy to sit next to me on the couch, sip water, and eat crackers. Given that he's normally a tiny dynamo of constant climbing tumbling energy, the mellowness was distressing. I gave him his bath and put him to bed and read him a story until he said "Done. Nap. Bye." And so I was dismissed. He slept through the night and seemed better this morning, with more energy, though still had a few hives, and maybe a bit of a fever. Poor little dude.

After he went to bed last night my wife made an awesome dinner -- arugula, sauteed mushrooms, and a white wine/brie sauce served over penne pasta. So very yum. We watched Gran Torino, which I liked a lot -- some high melodrama, a smart resolution, and it was funnier than I expected, though some of the acting seemed less-than-stellar. But Eastwood was great fun, embracing his inner old tough-as-nails curmudgeon. "Ever notice how you come across somebody once in a while you shouldn't have fucked with? That's me." Awesome.

Around 10:20 I realized I hadn't written anything in a few days, so I dragged myself to my computer with the plan to make myself write for an hour, or at least stare at the empty screen. Once I got going, I zipped along at a nice clip, and did about 2500 words in a bit under an hour -- faster than my usual cruising speed, even. Getting started was the only hard part; overcoming that couchbound inertia. I'm about 2/5 of the way through my work-for-hire novel. Should hit the halfway point or even more by Christmas. Fun fun.

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