Honest. I've just been busy with stuff this week. Nothing exciting, really, just normal living type things. Spare moments not spent learning portuguese or doing laundry or hanging out in pubs have been devoted to NaNoWriMo.

Yes, indeed. Still plugging away at Ye Olde Novel. I passed 15,000 words today, which is not bad at all, especially considering that I blew off last weekend and didn't really start until Monday. And guess what? There's a plot in there. It showed up once I let my characters start running loose. Can't shut those characters up, either, which is good, methinks. Not a bad plot, either.

I've not been allowing myself to write here until I get my words done each day, and then only if I really have something to say. Not that I have much to say right now, but things are getting really silly in novel-land and I think that's enough for one day. Plus, I'm ahead on my minimum daily quota, so that's all right then. I made that choice, incidentally, after I wrote the last entry and realized that it was 1034 words, or something ridiculous like that. Words I could've used right then! Which just goes to show, when you start playing around with the word counter, it's really hard to stop.

Calliope hasn't been taking it very well, I'm afraid. "What the hell are you doing staring at that thing all day long, when you could be playing with me? Huh? What are you, nuts?

I try to compensate for my temporary lack of attention by plying her with food, despite the fact that if there's anything Calliope doesn't need, it's more food. I've tried explaining it to her, telling her that I substitute food for affection because my own mother did so and I can't behave any other way now, but she's not buying it.

Which is pretty shrewd of her, because, strictly speaking, it's not actually true.

My mother was much more concerned about us not getting fat. She was also pretty intent on us not getting a hold of cokes, candy, chips-- fun food, in other words. We didn't have dessert very often, either (although Dad got graham crackers with non-fat Cool Whip), which is why I rarely serve it at home today, even if I'm having a dinner party. Example:

Friend: What are you serving?

Dilettante: I thought we'd have a relish tray (NB: we always had veggie trays), some bruschetta, maybe marinate some olives or something. Risotto for first course, that marinated filet I do, asparagus with hollandaise. Do you think scalloped potatoes are good, or is it too much creamy and I should stick with roast? Or is it too much starch altogether with the risotto?

F: Roast, definitely, although scalloped are yummy. What's for dessert?

D: Urg....Oops.

Except Thanksgiving. I always make at least two kinds of pie for Thanksgiving. Pumpkin, definitely. Maybe apple. When we lived in Turkey, I made a sour cherry and pear pie that was sensational. Still proud of that one, possibly because I totally winged it.

Grandma always made the pies at Thanksgiving, and the were doozies. My aunt would make a couple, too-- also very good. My mother was relegated to taco dip. Oh well, we can't all be bakers.

Fall has finally arrived. This is good. I like a change of season, and my cool weather clothes are much neater than my warm weather clothes. More flattering, too, especially if you want to conceal that troublesome midsection area. Which, believe you me, I do. And then, there's the whole uber-pointy black boot collection. God, I love my boots, even if I can't negotiate the streets of Portugal in the really high heeled ones.

I only mention this change of weather because whoever was in charge of notifying me of autumn's imminent arrival forgot to tell me. Which is why I spent half an hour on the windy platform at Belem last night, freezing my ass off while waiting for the train back home. It probably wouldn't have been so cold if the station wasn't right by the water. Whatever happened to my thick Wisconsin blood, that's what I want to know. If I was still in Wisconsin, I would have been wearing shorts, no doubt. But that's OK; I've thawed out now.

Central heating would come in useful right about now, I must admit.

Well, Elvis is in the building, which means that we'll be headed out for yet another wild night of debauchery just as soon as he's shed his suit and tie, so I'd best wrap this up and get it posted.

Ooh. I almost forgot.

Anybody got a title lying around that they're not using?