It's been a strange week. I've been negotiating about the value of my now-totaled Camry. It's still drivable, but since you can't open the rear passenger doors any more and you can't close the trunk anymore, there is clearly a lot wrong with it. Perhaps not the $6000 the bodyshop quoted to fix it, but that was enough to make the insurance company write it off.

Now they want to give me $2200. I can't get a Camry for less than $2900 no matter how I look...

That's the automobiles part. The novel part is more interesting. I'm going to try taking part in National Novel Writing Month, along with Jan, Amelia and Grace. I'm going to try to put my work in progress on a blog. It's called The Shooting Match.

Pork chops - not worth a recipe. They were good, but only good and all I really did was rub them with salt, pepper, thyme, sage, rosemary and garlic powder, then paint on a little oil, let sit in fridge for several hours and then grill on high for a total of 15 minutes both sides, adding a little applesauce on top for the last three minutes.

Work is going badly, too, just like everything %$@^ else. We've lost money again, share price is down, layoffs are imminent, yada, yada, yada. Just like everyone else in the Bay Area.