cute baby weasels, not convulsing

Look how cute -- a baby weasel! It doesn't look so savage, really, as the weasels in that illustration I posted a few days ago. I randomly came across these on some blog that I have already forgotten, and I had to swipe them, for the weasel coincidence of it all.

As for "weasel convulsions," I haven't been experiencing any for this reason: I have been writing by hand in a notebook because a) my computer made it too easy to "check" political headlines and get involved in blog discussions. Oy! And b) my mad perfectionist-brain got me in some kind of strait jacket and I was being way too persnickity with young "newt," who is at a stage in life that he really needs to, umm, you know, play with the weasels. {What??}

So: notebook. Scribble scribble scribble. Oh, and let me be clear this is NOT happening in my lovely collaged journal from the last post. My Clairefontaine notebooks are just for ideas and notes and weird and obscure nature and history and folklore facts, like this:

Inanna, ancient Sumerian goddess of sex and warfare; could be found swaggering around streets and dragging young men out of taverns to. . . well, you know.

Why did I write that one down? I don't know. I see that in this notebook I also noted the interesting fact that a child had just walked past my window wearing an orange prison jumpsuit. Don't you think that is interesting? Anyway, so the messy scrivvle-scravvlings are not happening in the pretty notebook, but in this polka-dotted spiral jobby from Borders. They have good spiral notebooks at Borders, fyi, with lots of pretty covers, plastic-reinforced, and with thick-enough paper, not like the crud back-to-school type notebooks. I know I'm a bit of a nutcase about notebooks, but it is what it is. I will also only write with one kind of pen: a Pilot Precise rolling ball, V5 extra fine. Any color, preferably many colors.

Sooo, last night on the treadmill, as so often happens on the treadmill, I was thinking about "newt" and I got a gazillion ideas, gazillion, and I had to hold them all in my head until I got home and furiously wrote them all down. So exciting. I love ideas, and I love it when they snick, and I love dreaming up situations that make me go, "Ooh, cool." Why doesn't everybody write? I'm not saying they should. God, no. There are enough of us already.

Oh, and look at the baby otter:
So cute!!! Steph illustrates her posts with hot British men, and I use baby animals. What does that say about us, I wonder. (She has some more good -- and slightly unusual -- revision advice posted, by the way.)