I prefer the Winter Olympics, myself

Up way too late last night, editing my short story. Which is stupid, since my final project is due this week in LIS 7120: Science and Technology Information Services and Resources. I'm supposed to be doing Science Tracer Bullets -- essentially, an annotated pathfinder for an academic library. I was going to do mine on Dark Matter, because I find it truly fascinating, and I'm a fan of physics. Unfortunately, I may be a fan, but I don't understand it at all. So I decided to do Genetically Modified Foodstuffs instead, because it has a lot of material available that is geared specifically at non-science types. It's due Friday morning, and I spent most of yesterday afternoon at the Science and Engineering Library digging up resources, so I should be in pretty good shape. Other than this project, I have a solid A in the class so far.

I'm pleased with the story, though; it seems to have an actual beginning, middle, and end, although I do need to punch it up a bit before I do anything more with it. Thanks to those who have been patient enough to read it and discuss it with me, as well as suggesting improvements. I was pleased with the fact that my mom actually thought the story was wonderful. The story that won me The Coveted Arnie Award while attending Western Michigan University was of a nature that I was reticent to show it to my folks, so it's good to know that my mom at least thinks I have some talent. (She also patiently listened to me telling her all about everything the story means -- sometimes she has the patience of a saint. Other times, not so much.)

My cousin and his family are staying overnight tonight, with their two weird dogs. One of the dogs is cross-eyed and really cranky, and the other dog acts like a puppy but is just this side of being mistaken for a pony. Size-wise, I mean.

Songs: "Along Comes Mary" by The Association, and "Creeque Alley" by The Mamas and The Papas. For some reason I'm singing both of them this morning, in a fit of 1960s AM-Radio mayhem.