I did some writing today, but not on my novel. Instead, I wrote a short piece for our company website -- 300 words. I would honestly rather write 3000 words than just 300, if you know what I mean. But I was pleased with the outcome and got good feedback, which felt nice.

I just finished making two Chocolate Caramel Pecan pies, from a new recipe. They didn't come out looking like the picture. I hate that. But I'm sure they'll taste good.

The little guy is off school the rest of the week. My husband and I have one more day to work. So, our son will go to his best friend's house to play all day. I'm jealous.

We have no big plans for Thanksgiving except relaxing and of course I'll be cooking the bird for the three of us. I'm really struggling with grief, lots of memories and pain. But I'll survive. It comes and goes.

Of course, I plan to write ALOT over the four day weekend. At this point, I'm only doing it because I said I would and I'm stubborn that way. I'm not in love with my story and if I could change it at this point, I would! The novel I would write would be a satire of corporate life, and it would be damn funny. (But that's just my misdirected anger talking...)

I'm looking forward to listening to my voice echo in the halls at work as one of the few who hasn't taken the day off tomorrow. I tend to get a lot done on days like that.