Whopping Weasel in a Hot Tub!!!

As I write this, my hands are cracked and dry and rather chilly. I've got my feet on my trusty footwarmer, which I just ran through the microwave, and I'm still cold. When I bought that heated throw blanket for Mikey's Christmas present, I guess I should have gotten one for myself. I've got an electric heating pad around here somewhere, and I'm thinking of plugging it in and putting my feet on it so they'll stay consistently warm.

Or, I could simply climb into the hot tub with Jason! Hard to write while you're in a hot tub, though.



















The Sextet and I are planning a weekend writing session in March, and the house we're staying in has a hot tub. Unfortunately, Jason probably won't be there waiting for us.

So sad. . . .