We leave for Cali next Thursday, and I'm starting to get a little freaked out. I'm such a fucking homebody--I already miss the cats, for cryin' out loud. We're only going to be gone six days, and I've got a friend checking on them every other day, but I'm convinced that they'll be lonely, scared, and malnourished while we're away. Not to mention unloved and abandoned.
I went for a three-mile jog yesterday, which was good. I definately need to do it more often. The mini-tri is coming up in August, and for all my talk about doing it in under an hour, I haven't been putting in a lot of pavement time. Other priorities, I guess, such as writing and spending time with the husband and reading.
The writing front is okay. I only like one of the short stories I wrote this month, so I'm submitting that to an open anthology. The dark short-story contest will receive a re-configured old story of mine. I've resumed work on the book I let fall by the wayside to write more stories. I'd like to have a first draft done by August and a finished manuscript done by World Fantasy Con in November. Ideally, I'd like to have another book in the works by November, as well. Self-imposed deadlines are the hardest to keep.