We have returned from Kennewick in one piece. Presents were exchanged, dogs and small children were played with, much good food was eaten. The weather was great, clear and cold the whole time, and on the drive back the Columbia River was mirror-smooth, so that the opposite shore appeared to be a floating island. We do live in a very pretty place.
In the last week I've been pretty down on myself for lack of discipline. I've been eating too much, exercising too little, and writing not at all. But, as Kate points out, this is expected -- nay, demanded -- at this time of year. Despite this, I still felt bad about it, and today I did something about it: I went to the gym, and I took advantage of my critique group meeting being canceled to sit down and write. I surprised myself by turning out over a thousand words, in a scene in which my main character is arguing for her life in a situation where she barely speaks the language (actually it's more complicated than that).
My mood was also greatly raised by an envelope that arrived in the last mail delivery of the year: Gardner Dozois is buying my Aeon Award shortlisted story "I Hold My Father's Paws" for his 24th annual Year's Best Science Fiction anthology. This is my first appearance in the Dozois Year's Best antho and I'm right chuffed about it.