Quite by accident this past week, while registering for the Romantic Times Book Lovers Con in Chicago, I discovered that Enemy Games is a finalist in the RT Reviewers’ Choice Awards. Yay! And a great big “Thank You!” to the folks at RT Magazine. That was first.
Second, I bring you a public service announcement: When the instructions on your heating pad say “Don’t fall asleep with heating pad on” – they mean it. I’m sporting a jaunty red burn on my throat from possibly having disregarded those instructions. What? I had a migraine and no meds. The hot pad was my only hope of sleep. It worked. Even if I look like I need to come up with some kind of new supernatural sexy hero type in order to explain the burnmark hicky. (Happy ending. A quick call to the MD on call next morning resulted in meds being refilled in short order. The local pharmacy handed me my drugs within the hour and I had my day back. But I’ll have that compromisingly placed burn for a few days.)
Lastly: One of the joys of living aboard a boat is all the wildlife that hangs around on the water. On Monday, I had a wildlife close encounter. It was a rare sunny day – notably not warm – but sunny. I was sitting with the cat in my lap when the boat dipped to one side as if someone had stepped aboard. I’d have looked up to see who’d come aboard, but we’d dipped the other way *AWAY* from the dock. Then I hear the scrabbling of claws on gel coat. What the hey? The cat and I glance at the window. There’s a wet, brown, furry critter shuffling down my side deck past my galley window. The cat levitated off my lap and ran for a better vantage point. I stood. The critter paused and looked in the window at me. River otter! Not two feet from my nose. I waved. I swear that otter blinked, then turned and continued on his merry way to my foredeck. He lolled around in the sun where I was able to snap a truly craptastic photo with my cell phone. Here he is:
Cheeky little bugger. Cute. From a distance. Thing is – otters stink to high heaven. Of fish. And dear GODS do they make a mess. The cat desperately wanted to go out and have words with the interloper. Did not happen. Those otters have great big claws and jaws designed to crush shell fish. The visit didn’t last long, if only because the sun didn’t last long. He bailed overboard when I stepped outside to get a better glimpse of him. You’d have thought *I* smelled bad rather than Mr. Otter.