I woke up this morning with that horrible post-breakup feeling. You know the one. You wake up, and for about .5 seconds you think that life is wonderful, and then you recall what happened last night, and your guts get sucked down into the boxspring (kind of like Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm St, but with less blood and more crying).

No, I didn’t break up with The Cheerleader I Live With, not even close. But my heart was broken last night when my hockey team lost a game that they deserved to win. I can’t relive 1994 again, I just can’t do it. I *hate* Game Sevens! Tomorrow night I may not be able to watch the game… my poor heart can’t take it. I’d like to live to see the summer, and the stress of a Game Seven might just kill me.

Aaaaaaaaanyway, last night I went to my dad’s for a family dinner, and did some serious damage to my stomach via cake. I couldn’t help it! It was brownie cake! I needed a pick-me-up after my dad asked me how The Book was coming along. “Slowly”, I replied. Because it is. I realized over the weekend that not only am I rushing my story, but I’m also needing to fatten the story up. It’s a skeleton right now, and I need to feed it cake. Lots and lots of cake.

So, I need to spend some time baking a story. I have the ingredients, and I know what I’m doing (mostly), I just need to stop being a lazy putz and start adding, mixing and creating.

Mmmmmmm…  boooooook caaaaaaake…