Ow.

Ow, ow, ow, and oh yes - ow.

No fooling, weeding is a b17ch. Hyperactive Lad keeps threatening to turn the new lawn tractor into a robot. If he can convince me it will do the yard work, I may let him. The deck is no longer green, but I think I liked that colour better, so I may try to find a chartreuse solid-colour stain for the wood.

Still outlining for the next story, and trying to avoid the cliché pitfalls that require virgin sacrifices for negation.

On the other hand, shaenon has released Narbonic, Book 4 (near the bottom of the page) and it doesn't cover the rest of the run, yet.

I still haven't asked for the print run, as I am trying to convince myself the material is [a] worth printing on paper, [b] decent enough for a fundraiser, and [c] the whole idea is not totally self-indulgent whimsy to see it as a tree corpse.