Nattering

Whoever sent the Lush stuff: mwah! My hair smells insanely terrific.

Posting from my shiny new MacBook courtesy of a drive to the Apple Store in Cincy. Oh yes, it is sweet!

Every so often I have one of those days that reminds me why I love the south. Maybe I watched Jim White’s movie or a compadre sends a link to a perfect little news story that just wouldn’t exist with the same specs elsewhere. Last night, it was as simple as a trip to the dog park a little later than usual to avoid the heat.

You see, the annual carny ride fair is taking place in the main fairgrounds this week. It’s smack behind the dog park, but wait, it’s better than that. In between the dog park and the rides, there has been set up a dirt track and bleachers. That’s right: they were having a demolition derby. The announcer was classic: "This ain’t a dance, boys!" We dog owners stood watching with glee while our dogs nosed around the park (at one point, we feared Emma had Found Her People, because she kept hanging out around the area of the fence bordering the prep pit). And I don’t think I have to give you much set-up to capture Christopher’s succint summing up of the mayhem-thirsty crowd, who got VERY angry when the announcer stopped things to lecture the riders on the taboo of the driver’s side door: "Bread and Buicks."

Yeah, we’ll be going back tonight at the same time. It’s large car demo. I can’t wait. Perhaps we’ll see Carzilla.

A lovely time was had by all, especially one attention hog named Emma the D-O-G, and party hats were even worn briefly. So endeth GwendaGras 30.

One of the most pleasant surprises was the library-hosted art show "Zelda By Herself," featuring 61 pieces of Zelda Fitzgerald’s amazing work, much of which centers on interpreting classic religious and fairy tale scenes or well-known cityscapes very much stamped with her own impressions. I was especially taken with the paper dolls and the lampshade with carousel imagery. The full charm of these pieces does not come across online, sadly, so do seek this exhibit out if it travels near you.

See also: Stephany Aulenback at Maud’s (she also points to this book, which collects many of the images)

Did I skip Monday? Not quite.

More to come, promise. But the household is a wreck, Emma the Dog is barking at Hemingway the Cat (don’t worry, in moments they’ll go racing through the house after each other, happily), lots and lots going on. I’m working on a 75 books update, but since I’ve got about 30 books or so to include, it’s taking awhile. WEIRD reading year so far. And more on that too.

Today’s mail brought a lovely copy of one Jonathan Lethem fans won’t want to miss — How We Got Insipid, a beautiful limited edition from Subterranean Press featuring two previously uncollected short stories, "How We Got in Town and Out Again" and "The Insipid Profession of Jonthan Hornebom," along with an author afterword about why these stories slipped through the cracks of his two short story collections. I might also say that this included quite possibly the best ARC pitch letter I have ever seen. More as soon as I read the stories.

And speaking of sure to be lovely books, Jeff VanderMeer (and happy birthday!) announced that he and wife Ann are going to be co-editing an anthology of original pirate fiction for Night Shade Books (and, related, Jeremy Lassen looks quite fetching as a Lolita in military garb: scroll down). A reading period will be announced at a later date. (Aside: I cleaned one of our cars out over the weekend and found a pirate eyepatch shoved into the seat.)

Elizabeth Bear has a beautiful fucking post about beauty/aesthetics in genre fiction that I’ll also try and muster a more organized response to than just, "Yeah! Well said!", but in the meantime let the record show…

Cynthia Leitich Smith’s indispensable Cynsations features Heidi E.Y. Stemple, another of the outrageously multitalented Yolen/Stemple brood.

Uncle Ray offers some very entertaining book recs (yay, Cruddy!) at Sara Gran’s digs.

Oh, and Ed has posted the superhuman Dan Wickett’s opening comments in a back and forth about T.C. Boyle’s Talk Talk that I lamely represented in along with several other fine readers. Coming all week. Check it.

See? Too tired even for bullets. Nightie night night.

Don’t get me wrong; I like a good day off as much as the next person, no matter when it falls. But this has felt entirely like a Saturday (and yesterday like a Friday) and then, oh cruelness, it isn’t and tomorrow it’s back to the office for another three days. Hardly seems fair.

I slept way too late, but not wayyyy too late, even missing today’s Tour stage (which C and Emma are watching together in the other room as I type). (The early sprinters’ days aren’t my faves anyway.) I just bought tickets to the first matinee of The Devil Wears Prada, and afterward I plan to come home and write some new stuff set in a dive in the near-the-interstate wilds of West Virginia (yes, I finally got the girl on the road!), then take Emma (and C) for a long walk somewhere. Pretty much a perfect day.

Last night we bought the first season of the U.S. version of The Office, which it turns out we’d actually seen about half of. Still SO good. This didn’t seem remarkably Independence Day oriented at the time, but now, I see it’s a celebration of our co-opting of British culture. Cheers! We walked Emma the Dog-Girl before bed, as it’s been unbelievably hot here when the light is out. We looked at Venus and the Moon, looming and orange. There was some sort of patriotic, symphonic event going on in nearby Gratz Park and at Transylvania University, where we usually start Emma’s neighborhood walks (there’s one dog-girl chosen in each generation to fight the squirrels — and this is her SquirrelMouth). Dizzy with their patriotic tunes, people offered Emma popcorn, swooned and squealed over her, while she tried to avoid their sparklers. So much of fireworks is waiting and then being underwowed; I’ll be relieved when there’s an end to it.

But, hopefully, you have a more generous spirit about this sort of thing and actually enjoy it. Why couldn’t they have opened Pirates today? Anyone? Okay, off to it.

Forms that can’t be filled out electronically. The prejudice against those of us who write HUGE. (Oh, dainty-handed people, I envy you right now!) Related to those, the fact that I keep screwing up every time I almost get done with Page 2 of this application.

Grrr.

Thanks to all who have called, written and commented with good thoughts — Mr. Rowe says thanks muchly (from his hugely swollen mouth area); it’s more cheering than you know. He’s now settled down on the couch doing what the convalescing should. No, not singing "Convalescing in Spain" ("Perhaps this is the best part"): watching movies (you could probably guess, but yes, it’s LOTR). Tomorrow he has finals. Keep your fingers crossed for upright test-takingness.

Meanwhile, four happier things:

1. Those little illustrations and pictures on the margins in a dictionary. I love those. There’s a dictionary open next to me right now, and I can see a child’s photo for water-ski, a lily with a star behind it for water lily, another flowery illustration for water hyacinth, a picture for waterfall, and a picture of mother and child for water buffalo; on the facing page, there’s a little bird for water ouzel, a settery or pointeryish dog in silhouette for water spaniel, a turbine for water wheel, and a picture of a quizzical bird for wattle. I could do this for hours, if I had hours to do it for.
2. Endicott Studio has gone and gotten itself a blog. Do stop by and check out the fabulous blog stylings of Midori Snyder and Terri Windling and Helen Pilinovsky and who knows who else. (Thanks for the well wishes, Midori! And yes, the chocolate milkshake family is a cure-all in my book and I also made him mousse yesterday).
3. Time Magazine cites Jeff Ford as one of five mystery writers to investigate.
4. You should take Shelley Jackson’s mutant typology test. I’m a CRANIOPAGUS PARASITE.

Well, we spent seven hours at the ER last night (Saturday night at the ER — we saw a guy get a three inch knife taken out of his chest right in front of us!) waiting for Mr. Rowe to get treated for the results of a pretty nasty bicycle crash. He is not, as they say, resting comfortably, but he is pain-medicated and resting and will be fine. He has new stitches, will get a trip to the dentist tomorrow (not in the Veronica Mars sense), and has a hugely awful amount of soft tissue swelling around his throat. Pray for gentle billing; welcome to the world of uninsured students. And it’s finals week!

Needless to say, there’s a helluva lot of busy going on here, so expect radio silence.

Find your own pose!

(Via Reb Livingston.)

Books available to pick up at the library*:

Aztecs : an interpretation / Inga Clendinnen.

Bury me standing : the Gypsies and their journey / by Isabel Fonseca.

Road trip USA : cross-country adventures on America’s two-lane highways / Jamie Jensen.

The Aztecs / Frances F. Berdan ; Frank W. Porter III, general editor.

The complete world of Greek mythology / Richard Buxton.
The end of tragedy : four novellas / Rachel Ingalls. (Okay, this one’s just for fun)

The genealogy of Greek mythology : an illustrated family tree of Greek myth from the first gods to the founders of Rome / Vanessa James.

The practice of dream healing : bringing ancient Greek mysteries into modern medicine / Edward Tick.

*Yes, I’ve read some of these already. Yes, I’m too cheap to actually buy them. Yes, they are research material. And more on the way. Yes, I treat the library as my personal collection. Yes, I’ll keep all these out for the allowed three months. Mwahaha.