Still working on it.  One thing I've discovered-- something I never fully appreciated before-- is how much my own experience as a playwright has betrayed me in screenwriting.  In a play you're responsible for every moment the characters experience in a plot, and you're not really supposed to have short scenes.  You have long set pieces in one or two locations, you can't just drop in mid-scene and then cut quickly to the next.  And that's all movies are, really, are two minutes or so in a single set before moving on to the next, with very little dialogue.  So in editing I've discovered how often I wrote that extra one or two lines that didn't need saying, or showed a character not just driving to a location but getting to that location and getting out of the car and walking into the location.  

To give you an idea of the difference, on Saturday I turned what was thirteen pages in the last draft into two pages in the new draft.  Yikes.

We have a fat dog.  She's... really fat.  So fat that today the vet ran a blood test to make sure she didn't have a thyroid problem.  She doesn't; she's just fat.  And I am sitting on my bed with her right now and in addition to being fat she is farting.  Aren't you glad I'm blogging this from home?  Sure you are.