stepping back in

I had hoped to work on fiction some this morning, but my son did not wake up until after my daughter had left for school, so he is only now napping and I am a little in the rush to eat and prepare and all; I must get him up around 1315 wil-he-nil-he (I assume this phrase to be the origin of willy-nilly -- and the internet says I am right, but oh how I miss having the free online OED access that I once had through my university) so that we may go get his sister and then go to the doctor and his growth may be checked (he is extremely small for his age and so we check regularly) and his sister may have her shots so that next week I may enroll her in transitional kindergarten. That in itself is going to be quite an adventure, I find, since all the proof-of-residency documents are largely in my housemate's name, who is not related to my daughter in any way, and so I must establish the chain of proof that we truly live here despite the absence of the documents in my name. Extremely annoying.

I had a lovely weekend, with Potlatch on Saturday, during which I met many interesting people, and then on Sunday a lot of lying in bed reading Ann Leckie's Ancillary Justice which was excellent until I realised at the ending that it was the start of a trilogy and thus Leckie did not see fit to close the thematic questions she had opened. I compare it to Maggie Stiefvater's The Raven Boys which is the beginning of a series and yet complete in itself in ways I find satisfactory (people disagree loudly on this, I know) and wonder just what the difference is. Perhaps a post to come on that, in a day or two. For now, the rush to get ready for the afternoon. It is both easier and harder for having had such a good weekend.