Going places

My hair is now long enough to wear back in a barrette. More than long enough--it's long enough (and bushy enough) that I'm more comfortable if I do so than if I do not. This is the beginning of the end.

After a couple of messages last night, I now have two possible leads on where-I-want-to-take-my-career-at-this-point, aside from the normal job-hunting and reading up on stuff (and aside from TBC). I love having friends who have friends. That sounds awful, doesn't it?

I also talked to Dad last night about the Las Vegas trip. I'm going to Las Vegas the last week in June with a bunch of my family to see the Grand Canyon, take the dam tour, go see Celine Dion <whimper> with my mother, and of course gamble. I don't like the idea of gambling, but Dad insists that I must do at least a little of it in Las Vegas. He said, "I saw the bathing suit Mom got you for the trip. She wasn't going to tell you the color, was she? So I won't either. But you're going to like it." This is very odd. The only time I can remember my dad ever commenting on my clothes, other than "You look nice," when Mom made me model something she'd bought and "That shirt's getting looser on you," when I was losing weight when I was fifteen, was in Baltimore when they visited and Mom had brought me a blue striped sleeveless shirt. I tried it on with khaki shorts. Mom said, "You should wear jean shorts," and Dad said, "No, it's better like that." Mom said, "How would you know? Are you a fashion expert now?" and Dad said, "No, but I know pretty girls." I tried the jeans later and he was right. Oh, and once he bought me a ridiculous furry hat (which I loved). But yeah. I'm not sure what it means that he felt the bathing suit was worthy of comment. I'll find out when I get there.

I wrote 279 words last night. I'm thinking two things: One, it might be a good idea if I moved the computer downstairs, into the sewing room. I might or might not move the sewing (and craft) stuff upstairs, but I think it would be better if my computer were more easily accessible, and also if I had windows near it that let in actual light. Two, I really need to access my computer more. Shoelace is a paltry 11,000 words along. Suppose I want to finish by the end of the year (which I do) and that I only write half the days from now until then. That's 7*30/2=105 days. If the finished draft is somewhere between 100,000 and 120,000 words, I need to write a little over a thousand words on the days I do write--or an average of 500 words per calendar day--or 3500 per week--to finish when I want to. I think I can do that; it's just a matter of whether I will. So: I'm going to try recording word counts here and see if shame motivates me.