Gobble gobble. It's done.

I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving. Now all the remaining turkeys can come out of hiding, weep over the dead, and start plotting their revenge. Sure, what do you think they do all the rest of the year? Turkeys have long memories, too.

Claudia and I had our traditional pasta, as neither of us really wanted to go through the ritual of bird immolation. I like to think that the pilgrims would have approved.

Oh, and we also shared a bottle of wine. In celebration. At about two in the afternoon, I typed two words at the bottom of a file that I've been pounding on for over a year. The End.

What did I do then? I cackled like a junior mad scientist who's just invented his first death ray. That was one of those moments when I wish I owned a camera that could have been pointing at my face, just so I could see the sort of dazed, manic expression that I was probably wearing. Then I wandered around the house, probably working on odd chores like loading the dishwasher or putting a load of laundry in, though I can't day for sure.

Then came time to print a copy for Claudia to read. I've been holding off replacing my printer cartridge, even though the few times I've had to print something I get a pop up saying something like, 'Warning! Anti-matter explosion immanent!' I got the first fifty pages of 'In The Dark' out before a newer, simpler message appeared. 'End of cartridge life.' My mental rendition of “Taps' turned into the theme from 'Psycho' when I took out the old cartridge and compared it to the new one that's been sitting on the floor still in it's box, collecting dust for a while. They didn't match. Not even close. Remember that crazed laugh? Picture it turning into the guttural scream that the Predator releases as it clamps it's wound shut. I feel like a fool for having to admit that I didn't realize the printer uses a hard plastic 'sleeve.' The sleeve pops put of the printer, and the cartridge pops out of the sleeve. The problem wasn't really solved, because it never existed in the first place. I had to replace the cartridge on my old one so many times that my hands knew how to do it all by themselves. Time marches on.

What now? Now I beg, borrow and steal all the friends I can find that are willing to beta-read for me. Now I put a bit of extra polish on Roja and look for an agent. Now I get my website built.

I've also started rewriting a short story that I've had on the back burner for a while, a really nasty one. I've also started writing my next book, 'The Red Man' burning.