So things have been okay so far. Went out with a few friends Friday and for some reason got hung over on just two beers and a martini on a full stomach. Maybe I'm getting sick again. Sure hope I'm not pregant... that would be really hard to explain to my mother, especially as I'm her only son. (Well, by blood at least.) Met another book person, though... I'd actually met her before, but this time we swapped e-mail addresses, which means her library is now mine! (Unless she's reading this, in which case I promise to return everything uncreased and un-breathed upon.)

And on the reading front, I'm almost done with The Regulators and I just started an odd book called Epitaph of a Small Winner. I love magic realism, and that's what I try to duplicate in my own writing; however, for someone who professes to like it so much, I've read very little lately. Going by the first twenty pages or so, it's definitely worth checking out.

So much for spring. It's about 15' celsius, though the rain stopped, which means I still might be able to ride out to Portsmouth like I'd planned on doing. Start my real training tomorrow... eighteen weeks from today, I'll be suffering through the hills in Stowe, Vermont. Anybody want to do this with me? or better yet, the Disney Marathon in thirty-six weeks? Come on. It's fun. Really. So what if I walked up the stairs sideways for three days after my last one?