Continued Proof of My Existence
So.

Here I am. I have four clients, a spreadsheet that informs me that I have four articles in the writing process and three more at some stage of publication/billing/clipping, and a fairly regular schedule. I have a system for intercepting phone calls, and another system for automatically sorting work-related emails into a folder (if you want to mess with my head, include the keyword "haro" somewhere in the body of an email to me). I have a start-of-work ritual and an end-of-work ritual. I have a "bread-and-butter" client, I've negotiated my first per-word pay raise, and I've received three paychecks.

I guess I'm a freelance writer now, Toto!

In other news, today Laird tried to gobble Caleb's still-fat cheeks and he said, "Don't eat me, Daddy! I'm not food, I'm Caleb!"

I forget whether I mentioned that among my goals for the next six months to a year is having a professional blog where I can muse on all manner of interesting stuff that I dredge up in the work process.