This whale is too small.

Did I mention how very much I love this line?

I couldn't seem to find anything angst-worthy to write about. My offering is a tad on the more mundane side.

It's a Small, Small World

The metal prongs stood up from the green background like the iron girders that composed the skeleton of all the world’s skyscrapers. Around the girders were paths crisscrossing the background, a finely-woven map grid of gold. Here and there wells of silver spotted the landscape, yet no water would ever flow from them. A hot metal tool transferred its heat to the girders, softer metal flowing around them, cementing them to the ground. Faint wisps of smoke drift up from the metal as the coolant burns off. Finally, the microscope arm swings away. The printed circuit board repair is completed.

small thing

In a walking-on-eggshells way, we were getting along wonderfully. I joked, he laughed, he liked that I was smart, we agreed on dinner. Still cautious, though, still reserving judgement and decision on where the night would end.

He got up to go to the bathroom. "Be right back," and he brushed his fingers across the back of my hand on the table.

It was a couple of minutes before my breath evened out. I felt that touch hours later, even among all the others. I loved him for years.

Man, this is one diverse topic.

Loving these drabbles.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Know what I got in the post today?

A royalty cheque! For Weaver!

It's just a small one, $132 after commission, but it means "Weaver" earned out. And the sight of this cheque makes me so happy, you can't imagine.

Also? The pre-release figures for FFoSM were included. I looked at them, expecting all zeroes, because the statement is through October 2004 and FFoSM's official release date was the 4th of November, and you know what?

It had almost earned out in presale. $5000 plus in pre-release orders.

I am a happy, happy woman.

Go, Deb! That's great news. Sounds like that European vacation (sans Chevy Chase) may not be too far away, now.

Woohoo, Deb!

Deb rocks. Not just because she types "cheque" when excited.

Ok. That is a large part of the allure.

Gus, darlin', it's how I was brought up to spell the word. "Check" is something one does to pilot lights when wondering if there's a smell of gas in the air.

How much do I love the fact that I no longer owe St. Martin's Press any money for Weaver? Not one thin dime? That they now have to send me money instead?

And that does bode reasonably well for future sales to them. Oh yes.

I bounce. Verily, I bounce, as I go deposit the cheque in the bank.

WHEEEEEEEEEEE!

I don't think I've ever seen Deb bounce before.