The weather I'm under.

I'm sick!  Sick as a dog.  Well, a dog with a cold.  And the weather in New York has always messed with me, with the seventy-five degree 'fall' weather, but now it's worse because I can't figure out if it's the fake fall that has me outside in a t-shirt, or a fever.  

I can't stop sneezing.  And my face hurts.  My sinuses may explode.   Which would be AWFUL. And gross.  And my neighbors might get mad about the noise.  

I am willing myself to make a quick recovery, since tomorrow is my day to finish up some pitches for new books that I'm hoping, hoping, hoping might get made into REAL books (as opposed to the books just living in my head).  I have my writing place all picked out too.  There's this restaurant/coffee shop right on our corner, with a great wooden bar where you can drink hot chocolate and eat pastries.  Oh, and write pitches.  They opened up a couple years ago, and it was one of the first places I ventured out to with my daughter when she was just a teeny tiny little baby.   But since my teeny tiny little baby is a tornado of a toddler, she'll be razzing the neighborhood with her dad while I have some writing time.  

If I were to combine all of the pitches I'm writing into one story line, it'd be something like this:

Cursed amnesiac foodie pirate with murderous streak runs away from witchy family to be tween TV star.

Off to eat Chinese food and watch Iron Man, which everyone knows will cure a cold if nothing else will*

xoxo

AMV

*not based on scientific evidence, but on my love for take-out food and action movies.