The update:
As of 12:30 a.m. on 11/25 I have 39,011 words.

Morale:
Good good good. Good. I'm less than a thousand words behind schedule. I still don't quite believe it.

Observation:
The book is well over a hundred pages single spaced (lots o' dialogue will do that), and it's officially so long that I'm having trouble tracking through it. This is an odd, new sensation - I've never written anything so big that I didn't know at least the approximate location of every scene. Now I have to take notes to find things. Wacky.

Some of the words:

"Hey - you and Kvasir should get together!" Yet another bright idea from the Goddess of Love.

"Kvasir? I don’t think so."

"Why not?"

"Freya, he’s made of spit. You know this. You were there when the Aesir and the Vanir did the spitting. I believe you even contributed yourself. Which bit is yours, his left ankle?

"Don’t be silly, all the spit got mixed together. And you’re not being fair, Sigyn. Fine, yes, Kvasir is made of spit. But he has a really nice personality."

"No, Freya - no, he doesn’t. He has the personality of a dirt clod. Which is what he is. A dirt clod held together with spit."

"But he’s really smart."

"And he’s really boring. And he smells funny."

"Oh now you’re just making things up."

"I am not. He smells like a sneeze."

"That’s crazy, sneezes don’t even smell."

"Yes, they do. They smell like spit."