So this week I received the second round of revisions from my New Editor (until I get used to it, which is to say never, I will be capitalizing New Editor for the joy of it all).

Not too bad, and I hope to finish in about a week. Meanwhile, I’ve finished revising the first five chapters of the never-ending opium-addicted Marquess and his illegitimate vicar’s daughter bride book (the Regency-set historical, not a contemporary, in case you were confused), and I hope to send that along to the Fabulous Agent soon.

And…this week Thanksgiving, which means I don’t have to cook! Yay! Or do cleaning! Yay! And perhaps can get more sleep. YAYAYAYAYAY!

Over at HeroesandHeartbreakers.com, we’ll be having some Thanksgiving content, although we could not find a picture of a sexy pilgrim. Go figure.

I’m at the Riskies today talking films and such.

So, yeah.

At the Riskies, being all kinds of stealthy (not really).

And, just for MR:

Almost EVERYTHING right now is about waiting–waiting for people to call or email me back, waiting for editors to read my submissions, waiting while the Champion Agent preps new stuff to send out, waiting until Knicks season starts, which means more open time at night for me.

So I got nothing for here. NOTHING, I say!

Sorry. I feel so incredibly–waiting. All I need is an ancient copy of Woman’s Day, and I’ll be transported to some doctor’s waiting room.

Today is Friday, so I am at the Riskies, quoting text and talking veggies. You know, the usual.

For a second, her mind seized on the crazy thought that this could be Douglas coming home. That the letter informing her of his death had been a mistake, and he was finally coming back to her.

Until she saw that the man at the door was at least six inches taller than Douglas had been, with short-cropped dark blond hair rather than the chestnut brown that Douglas had kept long out of vanity. The man, however, was dressed similarly to the way Douglas was the last time she’d seen him–a uniform of indeterminate color, clearly dusty from travel.

This weekend was a BLAST! The Long-Suffering (’Cause He’s Married To Me) Spouse and I went out for more anniversary celebration on Saturday, having tapas and wine at an East Village boite (accent circumflex is implied) before seeing Fitz And The Tantrums (YouTube search ‘em).

There, we met the Super-Smart Lawyer and her Amazing-Voiced BF, and after we went to a chichi cocktail bar in Brooklyn, where we each had two VERY STRONG cocktails.

(No, S-SL, we did not go out for more drinks. We wised up on the way home.)

Sunday, we went into the city where we got ramen (good for hangovers!).

Today, however, I think I am getting the flu, so I am pounding Vitamin C and the odd zinc lozenge. Fingers crossed I do not succumb, I have too much to do.

*by which I mean at I failed at not taking a nap. But I had some extenuating circumstances:

–Blood sugar issues (I get low blood sugar, it seems, which makes me shaky and sweaty and I need to eat something RIGHT AWAY and it leaves me spent.)

–headache from yesterday still on today.

–general grouchiness from chain falling off derailleur during course of bike ride.

–stuff I won’t mention. Not bad, just too overshare-y.

–and the faceplant nap wasn’t as long as yesterday. So–room for improvement?

Okay. So tomorrow there is NO TIME FOR NAPPING. Wish me luck. Again.

On the other hand, there’s this. Yay for shallow comfort!

I am not sure there is any more satisfying activity for an avid book lover than to discuss books and authors they love with fellow fanatics.

So grab that copy of Georgette Heyer’s Venetia, and join the Risky Read-Along! Details at the Riskies’ site and at the Borders blog.

(And, OMG, just saw that Richard Armitage is reading Venetia for audiobook–I already have Sylvester, thanks, honey!)

If one were to go through a few months’ worth of my posts, one might conclude that I am obsessed with hawt British guys.

Ahem.

Anyway, last night I started watching Season 7 of MI-5, now featuring Richard Armitage. Shirtless. With Russian tattoos.

Dear lord.

This season is already fun because Harry is so openly kick-ass, and honestly, I like seeing Ros kill people. So there you go.

But my own proviso is that I cannot continue to watch unless I am also being productive in terms of writing and other Enormous Things To Do. My own carrot/stick scenario.

Meanwhile, le swoon.