...

"Rincewind dropped the single syllable heavily in front of Nijel's train of thought, like a tree trunk. The boy shuddered, but at least he shut up. Rincewind actually began to feel sorry for him, which was very unusual -- he normally felt he needed all his pity for himself."

Sourcery, Terry Pratchett

Have I mentioned how much I adore Sir Pratchett's writing? Oh, to twist language around like he does ... to make it lie at my feet and beg me to scritch its belly ...

It's something I can only dream about. On most days, I feel more like language kind of growls at me and then piddles on my shoes. Ah well ...

In other news, Harry Potter (the hamster version) is still alive and kicking. He's a pretty active, friendly little guy. I love that he comes out of his hut and sniffs the bars of his cage whenever he hears my daughter's voice. So, so cute. I'm working with him so that he will become more comfortable with us. Today, he crawled into my hand and let me hold him. And he let my daughter pet him.

So far ... so good. Let's hope the bed of roses isn't full of hidden thorns. >.O

And I am freaking FREEZING! I was last night, too. What the frak is up with that? Time for a super hot shower, then it's off to curl up under the covers and watch Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. (Yes, a totally cheesy and ridiculous show ... and I adore it. =P)