throw another bear in the canoe

home again home again like a turtle to his balcony

2009-07-12T03:50:39Z

Tired now. That was the shortest week of my life, and one of the most fun. I miss you guys already, and I hope you're having a good time with Nalo.

Today was devoted to travel home from Seattle. Along the way, I finished an ARC of cmpriest's Boneshaker, which I enjoyed greatly. I thought the start was a little rocky, but once it settled down into present-day narrative and got its legs under it, it barely slowed down for breath ever. At Clarion West, I finished Sean Stewart's Nobody's Son, which was beautifully written but seemed to me to be another one of those stories where the primary conflict is men dealing with problematic relationships with their fathers, and while I realize that this is a common issue for my XY compatriots, it's not one that gets its squids in me.

Anyway, those were books # 33 and 34, and I'm nearly done with 35.

Tomorrow, the deathmarch through Chill begins again, as I really need to send it back to Anne as soon as possible, both to meet my deadline and so she will pay me. Yay, money!

matociquala @ 2009-07-07T18:01:00

2009-07-08T01:02:03Z

I'll be reading at the University Bookstore in Seattle tonight, for anybody who wants to stop by. WHAT will I be reading? Well, there's been a request for a preview of Shadow Unit S02x07, "Smoke & Mirrors," so probably that.

and they ran through the bushes and they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles

2009-07-07T04:18:25Z

Clarion West, day 1

7 a get up, check email, shower
8 a go eat cheerios w/students, hang out
9 a crits start
10:30 a potty break
10:35 a crits resume, eat small bowl of organic tortilla chips for strength
11:40 a finish crits, break for lunch, chicken taco calad w/home-made guac nom
12:30 p commence student meetings (INSERT TEA HERE)
3:30 p end student meetings, hang out w/ students
5 p eat dinner, fried chicken, brownies, nom!
5:30 p class (5 basic PLOT STRUCTURES w/bonus "build a hollywood blockbuster" game.")
6:30 p commence reviews for tomorrow
8 p check email, lj, facebook, twitter
9:15 p find glass of OMG TEH SEXX amazing blackberry wine, wander back over next door to see what students are up to and if it's fun....

...four more days of this? I might live. *g*

the doctor said she's lucky, it could have been much worse.

2009-07-05T21:58:37Z

I won't be around tonight, because I have An Engagement. However, there will be new Shadow Unit! A short novella by, um, me, entitled "Wind-Up Boogeyman."

It will also come with easter eggs and extras, of course.

Season 2 is more than halfway over!

What is Shadow Unit? I say it's a collaborative interactive reader-supported serial hyperfiction.

Emma, who is better at clarity than I am, says:

(Our story so far: Shadow Unit is a reader-supported series. So if you can, please donate via the link on the Shadow Unit page, join in the discussions on the Shadow Unit BBS, or just tell us, here or in person, that you enjoy what we do. That's support!)

and his sister's weird. she drives a lorry.

2009-07-05T21:29:07Z

The morning at Volunteer Park (my run was more of an amble, really) I met a rangy natural-eared black-born gray Briard named Buddha. Huzzah!

In unrelated news, apparently it has come around again on the guitar, and it's time to talk about How One Gets Published. Which, honestly, is maybe not the best way to put it, because the object, after all, is not so much Getting Published as Building A Career As A Writer.

However, one step along that path is breaking into print, which is a major milestone in any writer's life, whether we're talking first nationally published short story or first novel, or both. For the purposes of this essay, we're going to talk about novels, with short stories being recognized as a category under that.

And the problem is that I can't give you an easy set of steps to follow to break into print as a novelist, because everybody's path is different. There is still no magic get-published button. But I can give you a series of strategies which either worked for me, or for friends.

1) Write better.

ccfinlay once said to me, "There is always room for excellence," and I think it's one of the best pieces of advice I've ever gotten. Whatever level you're at as a writer, don't assume it's good enough. I've adopted, as my personal artist's motto, two phrases. One of them is There is no such thing as good enough.

2) Develop a voice and a vision.

Art is not about following the rules. (The second part of my motto is, There are no rules. There are only techniques which work or do not work. ) Have something to say, and say it in a manner that is clearly and uniquely your own.

This takes time and practice. Garage bands all sound the same, but I can pick out an unfamiliar Pete Townshend lick in about half a bar.

The infamous million words of shit, and the equally infamous ten-year writer's apprenticeship (mine was closer to twenty, but I've always been slow), are the process by which we develop this voice. Visual artists call it confidence of line; we call it narrative authority. Only practice earns it.

Whenever they tell me children want this sort of book and children need this sort of writing, I am going to smile politely and shut my earlids. I am a writer, not a caterer. There are plenty of caterers. But what children most want and need is what we and they don't know they want and don't think they need, and only writers can offer it to them.

--Ursula K. Le Guin

3) Write, edit, submit.

We all know this part, right? Write stories. Revise them. Submit them to paying short fiction markets or to non-shyster agents (or to those few legitemate novel publishers who still take slush) in a manner consistent with the guidelines of those markets and the generally accepted practices of publishing. (Most markets will have their guidelines online. SFWA also has a page where they discuss the business of writing and proper manuscript format.)

It is not necessary to build a career as a short story writer to sell novels, but a few nice short story sales never hurt. On the other hand, my novel sales really drove my short story career into the major markets: before my first novel sale, almost all my short fiction sales were to teeny tiny indie magazines. (I love teeny tiny indy magazines. I still read slush for one.)

4) Build a peer group.

Find some like-minded writers who are on their way up and stick with them. Learn the ins and outs of the business from them. Share what you learn with them. Compare notes, share experiences, talk about editors and markets.

You need each other: trust me on this. Good places to look are serious online writer's forums (Absolute Write, Baen, Forward Motion) and online workshops (Critters, the OWW). Be aware, however, that there's a lot of misinformation out there. Check what people tell you.

Also, this is the most effective form of networking. No, really. As you become a more accomplished writer, you will find your peer group expanding kind of naturalistically. Knowing people as people is far more effective than trying to insinuate yourself into their circle for business purposes. (They can generally tell if that's what you are after.)

5) Get stubborn.

I first submitted a story to Asimov's when I was a sophomore in high school. I finally sold them one when I was 35. My first published novel was my fourth finished novel--and not the first version of that foruth novel either--and there had been many, many false starts before.

Persistence is vital.

she sewed my new blue jeans

2009-07-04T19:44:57Z

We managed to get back from the farmer's market with only four varieties of cherries, and having spent only about five minutes singing along with the busker who was doing Amazing Grace to the tune of House of the Rising Sun, Blind Boys style.

Good times.

And now it's just me, a sofa, a laptop, a cup of strawberry peppercorn tea, a Saturday, and forty student manuscripts.

Excelsior.

(348 miles to Isengard.)

matociquala @ 2009-07-04T00:16:00

2009-07-04T07:16:24Z

Just got back from a really delightful Clarion West Party, and I have realized over the course of a wonderfully social day that I am still thinking--and telling people--about gregvaneekhout's debut novel Norse Code. I was talking with friends today about something that the book does really well, which is that it gets a peculiar and wonderful aspect of Norse mythology: Einsteinian time. Time as a navigable dimension,as it were (and I love that he has Fenrir, among others, explaining this.)

Essentially, in Norse mythology, all events are inevitable because they have already happened and are eternally happening. A wyrd or fate is not an inalterable future, so much as a part of the present we have not yet experienced. It's a tremendously fatalistic worldview, it's true, and so inimical to modern American culture that it's rare to see it done well in English-langage fantasy, or even touched upon--acknowledged--at all.

Greg does a great job with it, and that delighted me, and I meant to mention it before.

What's also tremendously cool about Norse myth is the way things are both symbolically and literally their names. So Thor (as an example) can be an individual--the god of thunder, who carries a hammer which strikes like a thunderbolt (which IS, in fact, a thunderbolt, Mjollnir that smashes...); and he can also symbolically be the god of thunder, a personification of random violence and flash-fire temper; but he is also, all at the same time, quite literally, thunder in his own person.

Ahem.

Anyway, it's really really cool.

matociquala @ 2009-07-03T15:28:00

2009-07-03T22:28:47Z

This morning, I went climbing with a friend of the mighty Kij's (just bouldering, as we were pressed for time) at Seattle's Stone Gardens climbing gym. The bouldering was good--no idea how many problems we attemped, but I found most of the v0s and v1s doable, and I even tried a v2 or two. Sadly, I do not have a lot of courage for bouldering, but I am doing better than I was, and it was really, really good to get out and climb. I'm going to try to go out at least one afternoon next week, because my students will like me much better if I get some exercise around the pedagogy.

(originally, i typed "him.")

2009-07-03T14:57:14Z

All right. Seriously need to get out of this bed and shower and dress so I can go climbing.

*emits a 60 cycle hum*

Seattle may *actually* be The Glamour. *g*

the same four chords with different faces

2009-07-03T04:58:27Z

So today I climbed a mountain.

Okay, not very much of one. Just a little bit. But it was lovely, and easy enough that I found myself feeling confident that I'm in shape for Kilimanjaro if it ever does shape up that we can go (ashacat and I are currently planning to try to do it for our fortieth birthdays).

Today was a hike on Rainier with medievalist and mac_stone, an absolute highlight of the trip. My first volcano and my first rainforest, all in one. On what may have officially been the most beautiful day of the year. We hiked about eight miles, all told, which means (DUN DUN DUN) that on day 902 of my walk to Mordor, I have passed Rauros Falls and the Breaking of the Fellowship, and furthermore, I have embarked with Merry and Pippin and the orcs on our way to Isengard. Thus making this icon even more appropriate to the day.

I've been thinking about worldbuilding and crappers. Some of this is from the Seattle Underground tour, which makes no bones about just how much the modern... face... of Seattle has been shaped, as it were, by the demands of sanitation. And some of it is because of the trip that stillsostrange and spouse and I took to NYC earlier this year, which--we were joking--turned into a tour of the Toilets Of Manhattan.

We started off having lunch with Amanda's editor, the charming and talented Dongwon Song, at what he described as a noodle joint for homesick expat Japanese, which had thoroughly amazing restrooms. They were large truncated cones with eight-inch-thick walls, suitable for withstanding zombie attacks. Spotlessly clean inside, they each had a small table with a chair and a reading lamp... and the kind of toilet that comes with pictographs. (I was especially amused by the lonely, dusty, slightly ratty role of peach toilet paper hanging beside the throne--I can only presume, for the convenience of cowardly gaijin).

From there, we wound up at the Slaughtered Lamb in the West Village, which Amanda selected for the werewolf in the window, and which offered the opposite extreme of toilet: cramped, grimy, careworn, and too small to turn around in.

Which led to me thinking about that most basic of mod cons, and what it can tell us about a setting. I've used a lot of different potties in my life, and they all tell you something about the place you find them--from portajohns to marble edifices....

Telling details.

In the meantime, I should go. Miles the Cat wants me to play fetch with him now.

imitation = flattery

2009-07-02T06:17:30Z

Ooo. truepenny tells me it's time for the first lines meme!

baaaaa....

LONG!

1) Vethulf and Skjaldwulf did not get along. (A Reckoning of Men, with truepenny)

2) Tin laced her fingers together across her gravid belly and frowned along her nose at the feeble human child. (An Apprentice to Elves, with truepenny)

3) The first hint of returning consciousness was the icy tickle of fluid dropping across his lids, lashes, nostrils. (Chill)

4) It's harder to get good roles when you're dead. (Smile)

5) Nothing made Matthew hate himself more than waiting for the elevator. (Patience & Fortitude)

6) Ragged vultures spiraled up a cherry sky. (The Steles of the Sky)

7) I loved you not. (Posthumous Jonson)

8) On the first sunny day of Spring, Vladimir Karl Wilhelm Alexander, Prince of Freimarc, came to his father's father's fortress for the only time in his short sixteen years. He did not come willing. (A Treachery of Princes)

9) No first line, but an epigraph:

And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of.

And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not.

And he was afraid, and said, How dreadful is this place! this is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven. (Grail)

10) Mrs. Cornelius stalked into the mahogany-paneled reception room, a jacket matching her chocolate trousers slung over her shoulder like the mantle of a queen, tiny emerald studs glinting in her ears like the eyes of a snake. (Unsuitable Metal)

11) A lone einherjar stood alone on the narrow band of black sand under the curve of the volcano's flank and raised his head to the impossibly bright spill of stars filling the sky. (Between the Bones)

12) No first line (Untitled virtual reality novel)

13) No first line (Untitled Heroic Hookers of the Old West novel)

SHORT!

1) The dream is smoke.

Smoke. Not fire. Not yet.

But you know the fire is coming. ("Smoke & Mirrors," Shadow Unit)

2) One gray-blue eye emerged from under the zippered edge of the jacket, blearily squinched. "From Hell's heart I stab at thee," Todd grated. "Is it the end of the world?" ("The Unicorn Evils," Shadow Unit, with coffeeem)

3) Someone had left flowers again. ("Spell 81A," Shadow Unit, with stillsostrange)

4) The first word was meant to be spoken quietly, if it should ever be spoken at all. ("The Death of Terrestrial Radio")

5) "We wouldn’t be having this conversation if you'd flunked Algebra." ("On Safari in R'lyeh and Carcosa with Gun and Camera")

Good dog, I really am totally out of short stories. 0.0

Oh, and La Datlow took a cute photo of me losing a Locus award to Paolo Baciagalupi. With the much-requested Purple Hair.

Jeepers.

2009-07-02T05:37:30Z

How on earth did I get this lucky?

Best day ever, which I kind of don't want to talk about too much because it will take the shine off, but there was an eagle at lunch, and sunset over Puget Sound, and a sculpture garden, and geeky writer bonding, and devil duckies, and Seattle hugs and New York smooches.

Best. Day. Ever.

Yay.

ETA: Oh and also we went to the center of the universe and I got to climb a troll. In a broomstick skirt and clogs. Yes, there ~~will be~~ are photos.

And the winner is... casacorona!

2009-07-01T18:30:04Z

New radiator and thermostat.

Cheaper than a head gasket, anyway.

(It also needs new tires and the brakes checked and the headlight lenses descraped, so this may get a little spendy, but I knew all that was coming.)

Still cheaper than a car payment. :-P

(Gee, a new contract would be nice around now.)

tourism deathmarch, North American Pacific Rim version.

2009-07-01T16:23:20Z

Seattle, day 5. Still no bukkit.

Having an awesome time in general, however. I had no idea I had so many friends in this part of the world!

Sunday, cmpriest took me on the Seattle Underground tour and then to the aquarium, where we saw sea otters and An! Octopus! (and sea otters!) I learned many things that will be exceptionally useful when I write the Heroic Hookers Of The Old West book I've been meaning to write since 2005, I think it was, or whenever stillnotbored, retrobabble, and I were crawling all over San Francisco. (The imaginary city where the book takes place is starting to form itself in my head. But it still needs a name.)

Monday, I went to the Pike Place Market with marykaykare, inaurolillium, and glinda_w. The market itself was pretty much my idea of the second level of Hell (shopping plus that many monkeys? OMG.) but the food we procured was outstanding, as was the meal the Mad Gastonomer later fashioned from its component parts. (NB: your west coast garlic scapes are not like our east coast garlic scapes. Who knew?)

Yesterday, MKK and I drove up to Vancouver. Along the way we stopped for breffast with anghara and spouse, and in the city itself we split up so she could go bookshopping and I could wander around and get the lay of the light. I wound up walking across the Granville Bridge (Your Canuckistan, where drivers will stop for pedestrians in crosswalks on freeway onramps!!!!) and oogling the inlet. OMG, gorgeous. I kept having to tell the cvillette / standuponit in my head that no, we were not jumping off it, however. (We had a similar talk later about the Lion's Gate. If he wants to BASE jump, he can get his own body.)

We reconvened at the restaurant to find out that um, the car had been towed. I guess we both missed the no-parking-after-three sign. 0.0 Fortunately, it turned out that the restaurant we intended to dine at was used to these shenanigans, and the civil servant at the impound lot was remarkably, well, civil, and so the ranch was saved.

The mysterious and lovely galeni then met us (via the magic of Twitter, we formed the world's smallest flash mob) at the BBQ place we had selected to feed MKK's need for MEAT. We ate MEAT (and in my case more cornbread than was strictly necessary) and then she took us for a tour of Stanley Park before delivering us safe and sound to the impound lot, where the car was reclaimed with no problems.

And so we came home.

Vancouver was not at all what I expected. I mean, in some ways I guess it's a typical Pacific Rim city (is there any such thing?)--multiethnic, cosmopolitan, multicultural, interlacing the sea. I was very impressed by the mountains (and Mount Baker on the way back--about the only thing I miss about Vegas is the mountains out my kitchen window, and the Volcano Roulette is proving very satisfying to me for this reason) but if I hadn't known I was in Canada, I would have kept mistaking the place for... Miami. Mostly, it was the condos, and the design of the condos. Of courses, Vancouver is Canada's San Diego, but it's weird to see the evidence of that in the balconies, open architecture, and walls of floor to ceiling glass.

What a nifty city. I would like to go back for longer.

This morning, I went for a run through Capitol Hill and up to Volunteer Park, where I joined the hordes of joggers and dog walkers and got some much-needed exercise. I'm enamored of the Capitol Hill architecture, with its peculiar combination of Pac Rim pagoda, Edwardian foursquare, and mock Tudor. (My favorite so far is the lavender and cream mock Tudor second story perched atop a purple brick first floor. Gorgeous.)

Today's plan is MKK's birthday luncheon, a tour of a chocolate factory, and then fun with scarlettina. Tomorrow, I hike. Friday, climb, various luncheon and tea plans, and then--alas!--I shall have to pass on the Fremont Zombie Walk because I am being called in to start doing what I was brought here to do. (Mwahahahaha.) I feel a little like a spy who's been activated: go to this wonderful place, spend time, get to know the people and the city... and then perhaps you will receive a call.

no hesitation. no tears and no hearts breaking. no remorse.

2009-06-29T03:46:34Z

Hey! There's new Shadow Unit!

matociquala @ 2009-06-28T09:10:00

2009-06-28T16:11:07Z

The Mumpsimus: Rick Bowes on Stonewall at 40.

matociquala @ 2009-06-28T08:44:00

2009-06-28T15:44:17Z

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand while you were sleeping, somewhere in Wrentham MA, the Giant Ridiculous Dog finished his championship.

That's right, he's now CHAMPION The Giant Ridiculous Dog, and my room mate can dye him purple.

Yay!

Photos to follow when batwrangler gets home, I'm sure.

i have the tools. i have the technology.

2009-06-28T14:59:02Z

Total unplanned expedition to Vancouver today! Want to be a flash crowd? I will tweet wherever we're having lunch and anybody who wants to meet up can come find us. I'm the one with the purple hair.

*g*

ETCETCETC: Dear Internets, sorry, looks like Vancouver is rescheduled to Tuesday. See you then!

way back in 68 everything was so great no way wrong date

2009-06-28T09:06:23Z

Today was a pretty great day. Driving around with marykaykare (including farmer's market), Locus awards (where Paolo righteously kicked my ass), Hall of fame inductions, and then Goffing with cmpriest, blackaire and others whose elljay handles I do not know. (Identify yourselves!) The music was kind of indistinguishable industrial until one of our number took over and demanded the :Wumpscut, which seemed to embolden the crowd, and after a certain amount of harrassment the deejay seemed to catch on that we were OLD FARTS and wanted STUFF WITH LYRICS, whereby dancing commenced. I am not yet old. I can still dance to Skinny Puppy. This pretty much means by default that I am not yet old.

Also, my little black cocktail dress = awesome for dancing in.

So then we went to IHOP and calories were obtained, after which some idiot (me) discovered that she had somehow lost her cellphone and two credit cards. However! The cute bartender at the club had found them and tucked them behind the bar for me, and so the ranch was saved (and the bartender retipped most heartily).

Moral? Be nice to the help. They may save your everloving ass.

And now I sleep, because lo, tomorrow we drive to Vancouver.

It's a damned good thing that I have more stamina than sense. Just saying.

Oh, also. Tomorrow, As You Know Bob, because I will be out of town, there will be Shadow Unit content. La.

[Shadow Unit Fourth Wall Breaker] Where in the world is the WTF?

2009-06-27T17:31:38Z

On the way back from the Farmer's Market, spotted Chaz Villette in a crosswalk at 47th and Brooklyn wearing a green T-shirt that says "STAFF". 0.0

...And my first thought is, "I know where he's supposed to be right now, and it ain't Seattle."

to believe in this living is just a hard way to go.

2009-06-27T07:41:53Z

I'm writing this at cruising altitude somewhere East of Seattle. A string of thunderstorms brought us low--we had to detour to Denver and refuel, so predictably my arrival in Seattle will be some three hours later than planned. Yep, I love to travel.

I did manage to put the time in the air to good use, though--revisions on Chill have reached page 208. I gave up there, because I was not having a lot of brilliant ideas for the new scene I have to write, but it seems to be mostly coming together nicely--and hey, halfway done!

I also accomplished an awful lot of reading, about which more below:

Book 30, Greg Van Eekhout, Norse Code.

The title is trying way too hard. But the book itself, while I did not utterly fall in love with it, is a cheeky, fast-paced, suitably apocalyptic romp through Ragnarok, to which (predictably) I am entirely sympathetic. I did find that it had one quality that I find in most urban fantasy these days--it felt a little superficial: I wanted more crunch. But that is usually just me.

And it did keep making me laugh out loud. Just saying.

Book 31, Jeffrey Ford, The Physiognomy

Another one that wasn't quite for me through no fault of its own. There's a whole subgenre of beautifully written, steampunky high-gore fantasy about generally reprehensible people that I think just has too many guy cooties for me: they don't fill me with love. Examples include China Mieville's Iron Council, Gene Wolfe's The Shadow of the Torturer, Jay Lake's Trial of Flowers, and so on. Since they are generally well receeived by people who are not me, I am forced to accept that the fault lies not in the books, but in myself.

Book 32, Erik Hildinger, Warriors of the Steppe

Meh. Although the copyright is 1997, this book of military history appears to me to have been written in the 60's. It feels tremendously dated. I also find myself questioning some of his postulates--at one point, for example, he says that the Russian Army in 1941 was the best-equipped in the world, which doesn't jibe with my understanding.

Anyway, I did find some tiny lovely little bits I am stealing for The Steles of the Sky, like the horse-hoof scale armor and maybe some bits of the story about what happened when they exhumed the skull of Timur Leng and incurred his curse. (Hint: the Russians did so in 1941....)

Also, I wanted more economics and politics, and fewer descriptions of battles.

And now, I may endeavor to nap, and post this when I have landed.

and for the coupay-de-gras, they're outrageous

2009-06-26T13:03:28Z

When I woke up this morning, my brain began by providing a mashup of "Beautiful People," "Show Biz Kids," and "Baby You're A Rich Man." (ETA: Lyrics to two of those three songs not worksafe if your workplace discourages use of the Eff Word.)

You're all lucky I don't have the tech skills to share what I am hearing between my ears.

Brain, why can't you just give me a normal earworm?

It goes kinda like this:

How does it feel to be
One of the beautiful
People?
[The beautiful people, the beautiful people]
Baby you're a rich man,
{When the poor people sleeping with the shade on the light}
Baby you're a rich man,
{When the poor people sleeping with the shade on the light}
Baby you're a rich man too
{When the poor people sleeping all the stars come out at night.}
[Hey you, what do you see?
Something beautiful, something free?]
{And in all my travels}
How does it feel to be
{As the facts unravel}
One of the beautiful
{I've found this to be true:}
People?
[The beautiful people, the beautiful people]
Baby you're a rich man,
{She go to lost wages}
Baby you're a rich man,
{Lost wages}
Baby you're a rich man too
{Oh honey let me tell you}
You keep all your money in a big brown bag, inside a zoo
[Hey you, are you trying to be mean?]
{Well I've been around the world}
What a thing to do
[If you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean]
{And I've been in the Washington Zoo}
[Hey you, are you trying to be mean?
If you live with apes man, it's hard to be clean]

Yeah, now you see my issue. I bet if you clicked all three links at once you'd get the idea....

It starts with that dirty Steely Dan guitar lick, too.

matociquala @ 2009-06-25T23:38:00

2009-06-26T03:38:12Z

There. Packed.

Don't wanna go.

(I hate traveling.)

all around me are familiar face, worn out places,

2009-06-25T20:46:36Z

So.

This is why I hate travel.

As I was on my way up to Massachusetts to drop off the Complaint Department and the GRD, the Moby Smurfberry began to overheat. (Fortunately, just down the block). So I turned around and came home, called my Mom to have her send thecoughlin to pick up the fur-bearing members of the household, called my garage, called Triple A... at least the tow truck guy was cute.

Sigh.

What an inconvenience.

Ah well, at least I have a ride to the airport tomorrow. And it's not like I was going to need the car this week anyway, though I was going to loan it to my mom.

La.

Hopefully, we're talking thermostat or hose here and not head gasket, huh?

beep beep beep beep yeah

2009-06-25T13:05:07Z

I just tossed the dogge a piece of cheese, which he has no clue how to catch, so it stuck in the fur on his face and he spent ninety seconds chasing his own fur around the kitchen floor.

Yeah, this is what passes for entertainment around here.

Wonder if we have any more cheese.