I finished Tate's book late Sunday night, so now I can write my long, involved screed about Secret Invasion soon. I'm all caught up (thanks to Lance at Dreamhaven who pulled every title involved for me), I've even read the whole let's recap everything that ever happened between the Skrull and Kree issue. Right now, however, I'm enjoying not doing anything for a couple of days until my beta readers get back to me.

On the wall of the Children's museum in the toddler play room, there's a quote from someone famous about parenting. It says: "Having children teaches you how much patience *you* have." Every time I looked at that, I thought: "Not a whole hell of a lot."

What is true for me in parenting, is true for me with my fish as well. So I'm working on redesigning the tank upstairs in order to make it a happy home for a school of tetra. Right now, I've set up the filter system (I broke down and bought a canister, over-the-top one), and the heater. When I was a PetCo, I purchased some black stone gravel and a set of large, black stones. Tetra, according to the research I've done, like black/dark substrate. I guess the back waters of the Amazon, where many of them are from, is heavily planted and dark and cavernous. Underneath the gravel, I put in a thin layer of "Florite" substrate, which is supposed to be especially designed for planted tanks, as it has all sort of yummy essential nutrients mixed in somehow.

I put in a couple of the moneywort plants that the goldfish uprooted, but I currently have no grow light for them or CO2 (although I could move that up any time). Since we also ran out of cat food today, I'm hoping to get to Petsmart today and see what they have in terms of lights -- what I really need is one that attaches to the outside of the tank, since the hood light system is completely broken and unusable (I actually removed all the light hardware from the hood over the weekend.) The cheap clip-on I found in Foster & Smith gets terrible reviews from on-line purchasers. It has a tendency to arrive broken, no less, so despite the fact that it's only a thirty dollar investment, it's not much of an investment if we can't use it AT ALL. So, I'm back to the drawing board on the light situation. All the other nifty gooseneck aquarium lights cost in the hundreds of dollars.

I also really want a faux mangrove root for the tetra to hide under. I found one in Foster & Smith, but since we're not ordering the light, I thought I'd try to find a local replacement for that as well. I may have to break down and go somewhere that really specalizes in fish, but I've been reluctant to go to somewhere like World of Fish because we don't really have a lot of extra cash right now thanks to taxes and I know that if I walk in there I'll want to leave with a million dollars worth of plants and equipment.

In other non-fishy news, Tate's new book ROMANCING THE DEAD came out yesterday (offically -- many of you have probaby already seen it in stores. Bookscan reported sales as early as the last week in April.) I was pretty crazy as her yesterday, as I participated in a blog roll contest with a number of other paranormal authors. Tate has also been invited to "chat" on the Berkley/Jove/Ace "Writer's Space." Personally, I find those kind of "live" chats really hard to particpate in, but I do plan on giving it the college try, and if any of you want to stop by (it's tomorrow night), the details about it are on Tate's blog.

Also, I've finished reading Brian Michael Bendis' Secret Invasion #1, and... I might actually suffer a brain anurism if I try to comment on it. All I can say is, if the people who came off the ship are the REAL heroes (and they appear to be), then I may stop reading Marvel all together.

This is my formal apology to the programming folks at WisCON. There was a computer glitch, and my schedule is, as follows:

Saturday, 2:30-3:45 P.M.
Title: Here's Where The Story Ends
"Maureen McHugh's novels, some say, don't have proper endings; others think that since life goes on past the end of the novel, the ending's a matter of the author's choice. We'll discuss where to end a novel, how much denoument to give the characters, and other questions of wrapping things up."

Saturday, 9:00-10:15 P.M.
Title: Fanfic and Slash 201
Are you a fan of fanfic or slash? Want to have some serious discussions about pairings/genres/etc? This is *not* a panel for people who have no idea what fanfic or slash is. Serious discussion of fanfic and slash communities and the stories themselves will be discussed here.

I've apologized to Lori Selke, but I'll repeat what I said here, in public: I'm sorry that I posted my programmming problems on LJ. However, as I said in the comments of the previous post, this year has been particularly snarly in terms of getting readings, party rooms, etc., and I'm really not used to that from WisCON -- which remains one of my favorite conventions anywhere in the world.

I just got my final programming from Wiscon and here it is....





What? You see a whole lot of nothing, well, that's because that's exactly what I've been scheduled for. I got panels, no party, no reading, nothing.

That's a whole lot of awesome. (sarcasm.)

Not that they mention my story specifically, but here's a review of the lesbian erotica anthology I'm involved in: http://www.pretty-scary.net/article1581.html

Will write more about the second "great fish die-off" that happened yesterday.

For those of you interested in my writing bits, as it were, you can head on over to SF Novelists today to read my take on "Committing Series."

I had a great reading/signing at Dreamhaven Books & Comics last night. On a whim, I decided to bring along my laptop and I read the first chapter of Tate's current novel DEAD IF I DO. It was received very well -- in fact, it proved a tough act to follow. (It's actually a scene I'm very proud of -- Garnet introduces Sebastian to her parents and manages to blurt out that he's a vampire). I ended up also reading a huge portion of "Fire and Ice and Linguine for Two" from the MANY BLOODY RETURNS anthology, as well as little bits of the book for sale ROMANCING THE DEAD and Lyda's work in progress RESURRECTION CODE. Normally, I don't like to fill the whole hour with the droning sound of my own voice, but I tried to stop reading "Fire and Ice..." several times, but the audience egged me on.

So it's their fault.

I dressed up for the gig, but it was too damn cold to try to squeeze my a$$ into a miniskirt, so I ended up with tuxedo tails, vest and tie. Personally, I thought I looked absoultely fabulous, but my partner described my get up as "incorrigably silly."

The reading was moderately well attended (probably a dozen or more people not related to me by blood), given that it was at an awkward date and time: Monday night at 6:30 pm. But I left "late with increased energy" so I'd call it a win. If you're local and you still want to catch me live, there's a signing scheduled at Uncle Hugo's for Saturday, May 10 at 1:00pm to which I cordially invite you to attend if you happen to be in Minneapolis.

In other news, one of our guppies died suddenly and unexpectedly. I'm beginning to think that the upstairs tank is actually an omen, because on the day the fish started acting funny we got a call. Turns out one of Shawn's relatives has a cancerous breast lump. Unf***ing believable.

Shawn left Mason and I to our own devices for four hours on Sunday, and we immediately ran out to Petsmart and bought a female guppie, who Mason named Sierra Leone (continuing the African nation theme). I also ended up changing their water several times in the last couple of days, because I suspect that a high salinity might have contibuted to the death of the guppy. I need to get a salt level guage, but in the meantime, since guppies can live in fresh water (though they prefer some salt), I've determined not to add any more salt.

Mason will be off school for the entire month of May, so my entries here may be somewhat spotty. Also, if you want a chance to win a signed, manuscript copy of the first chapter of the next Tate book (DEAD IF I DO, 2009) check out the contest running on Tate's blog on Friday, May 2.

First of all, for those of you who missed my fabulous appearance on KFAI's "Write On Radio," you can listen to an audiofile in their archives at: 4/24/08 - Write On Radio Show. Don't be thrown by the fact that there's a long musical lead, no show identification or the fact that a woman with a British accent (Marie Phillips) starts reading about the goddess Artemis and trees and blow-jobs. I'm on during the second half of the show, and they were waiting for Marie to call in from London.</p>

What's funny is that I just wrote a scene in DEAD IF I DO with another Greek goddess, Athena, and had I known that the author of GODS BEHAVING BADLY was going to be sharing the show with me, I'd have brought that scene.

Being on KFAI was a blast. I've been really fortunate enough to have been on KFAI several times in the past (I have a bunch of .mp3 files on the FAQ section of my web page, if you're at all curious.) The station itself is on the top floor of a thin, funky building on University of Minnesota's West Bank. The West Bank, if you're not familiar with it, has some of of the last vestiges of Minneapolis' hippy culture. There's May Day Books still there, as well as the home of a few cooperatives. There used to be the New Riverside Cafe (which is featured in Emma Bull's WAR FOR THE OAKS), as well as the folk music collective: The Coffeehouse Extemporie. The West Bank is also adjactent to the sort of low-rent theatre district of Minneapolis -- the Theatre in the Round, Southern Theatre, and Theatre du Juene Lune are all there. Somali immigrants have also moved into the West Bank which adds an East African flavor to the whole mix.

KFAI is very much part of the remaining hippy culutre that's clinging to the neighborhood, so it's not like being on a radio show on one of the big, commerical stations. I've done that once, where I called into a station in Wisconsin, and that was a lot more nerve wracking.

At KFAI they have several studios, which look not unlike regular meeting rooms, except there are big microphones over each spot at the table, and, of course, a fancy looking electronic board on the other side of a short divider. You get to wear headphones, which adds to the whole, "I'm on the radio!" feeling, but there's a window and posters on the wall. I was nervous until I got into the studio. You do have to be silent the moment the "On Air" light goes on, but thanks to the relaxing atmosphere of the place, it's not as big a deal as you might think.

I have to say that the thing that amused me was how much Ian Leask gestured to everyone silently while Marie talked. There was a lot of frantic pointing and obtuse sign language that made Cin (the woman who read the calendar of events) very nervous. I guess they also had a back up tape ready to roll in case there were technical problems getting Marie on the air.

My favorite moment came when I completely blanked on what DEAD SEXY was about. I couldn't remember for several hours, actually. The problem is, of course, that that book was so long ago in some ways. I'm in the middle of writing book four, and three even seems like a dim memory for me, you know?

I always feel like I'm blathtering away, and I know I went off on vaguely unrelated tangents. In the past when my friend J. Otis Powell! was the host of the show, he actually gave me a list of the questions he was going to ask ahead of time, so I'd have a moment to prepare. Steve didn't, so everything was very spontaneous. I noticed that I used my stall-while-I-form-an-answer phrase a couple of times, the whole "That's a great question...."

Even so, it was a great time. I can only hope I get the opportunity to do it again sometime.

I'll be at WisCON after all. We got the date of Mason's BFF's party wrong, because I'm a big dork and forgot that WisCON is actually the weekend BEFORE the 31st.

Hooray!!! Or as we say in Wisconsin, "Yippee-skippy!"

First of all, just a friendly reminder to mark your calendars. I'm going to be talking (as Tate, I suppose) on KFAI about my new release ROMANCING THE DEAD. Even if you're not local, it's easy to tune-in.

Here's all the information you need:

Thursday, April 24, 2008 from 11:00 pm - noon I'll be on the radio promoting my new release ROMANCING THE DEAD and my upcoming reading at Dreamhaven Books & Comics. I'll be part of the "Write On Radio" show on KFAI with host Steve Mcellistrem. KFAI can be heard at 90.3 Minneapolis/106.7 St. Paul or streaming on-line at http://www.kfai.org/.

Also, if you're planning on attending the Dreamhaven gig, I heard from Elizabeth that there will be advance copies of ROMANCING THE DEAD available for sale. The Dreamhaven thing is: Monday, April 28, 2008 starting at 6:30 pm I will be reading from her newest novel ROMANCING THE DEAD at Dreamhaven Books as part of the Speculations reading series hosted by Eric Heideman. Dreanhaven is located at: 912 West Lake Street, Minneapolis, MN 55408. For more information call 612-823-6161 or check out their web site at http://www.dreamhavenbooks.com/. There is off-street parking available behind the building and the event is free and open to the public.)

In other book news, I have an interview tonight with a reporter from the Minnesota Women's Press, so there will probably be something appearing about Tate/me there in the next few... days? Weeks? (I can't remember, but I think the Women's Press might be monthly.)

I wrote a whopping 3,000 words last night. That's a lot for me, but I needed to do it, because I'm behind again. The thing that often amazes me is how quickly my brain gets conditioned to writing fast. I looked up after an hour of writing and realized I'd already written over 1,000 words. Crazy.

Also, from today until Tate's book comes out on May 6th, I or Tate will be blogging every Tuesday over at SF Novelists. Today, I continued the discussion about why fantasy outsells science fiction: Darkness Defined (SF vs. Fantasy Redux).

Three other notes of interest: the CO2 maker in my fish tank is working and it's cool. The bubble counter feature is particularly fun to watch.

Second, my car radio problem has fixed itself. Electricity is magic. That's all there is to it.

Third, I may not be attending WisCON this year, after all. There are several factors in this decision. First, Tate's deadline is June 1 and I'm really struggling to get this book done. Second, Mason's VERY BEST FRIEND's birthday party is going to be held that Saturday. At first Mason seemed okay with the idea of missing it (he really, really loves playing yellow ball with his grandfolks,) but looking at the invitation over and over has changed his mind. The third is... my panels this year aren't hardly worth the gas money to drive down. Combine that with the fact that Wyrdsmith isn't having a party this year and the fact that my only reading slot is with the broads of BroadUniverse (a great venue, mind you, but no more than 5 minutes at the most.)

We haven't made up our minds, but I suspect we're going to skip it this year.

I should never read fish magazines. I especially should never read fish magazines right before I got shopping for cat food at Petsmart.

Yesterday, I came home with a carbon dioxide kit for the 30 gallon tank. Why do I need one of those? Well, okay, I don't, not unless I have plants. I've always wanted a lush, planted aquarium for my fish to swim around in. Even though the goldfish have a tendency to rip up and/or eat every plant I put in their tank, I bought two large clumps of "moneywort." According to the little tag on the tank, they're supposed to tolerate low to moderate light. I don't have a fancy grow lamp on my tank, although I've always wanted one. But, the tank does get a couple of hours of fairly direct southern light in the late afternoon, and I planted the largest clump right in that spot. The CO2 maker is supposed to improve the plants because, just like their non-aquatic cousins, they "eat" CO2 and "breathe out" O2. I guess fish waste mostly ammonia, and if you want your plants to be healthy you need to add CO2. At least that's what the article told me, anyway.

I've tried plants before in the 10 gallon tank, and mostly they got brown and died. We'll see if the CO2 maker helps in the other tank. I spent 30 dollars on what is basically a container with a hose. Inside, I placed sugar and yeast and water. Just like making beer, there's a fermentation lock. Only, instead of percolating into the air, it's got a tube that leads it into a contraption in the water where the bubbles are released. It's supposed to take at least twelve hours before it gets going, but I saw a couple of bubbles this morning. I'm not sure I have it set up right, and it's one more thing for me to fiddle with in the tank.

It's funny because, when we were hanging out after the Intermedia Arts reading, my friend Barb asked me if I found all that cleaning and whatnot arduous. I said no, and it's clear that all ths messing around is really where I get my enjoyment of the hobby. I mean, yeah, I love just sitting and watching the fish flash around the tank and I get A LOT of satisfaction when dull, unhappy looking fish brought home from Petsmart not only improve, but flourish in under my care (okay, when I don't kill them... which, to be fair, I haven't done in a long time.)

The other thing I really enjoyed about reading AQUARISTS INTERNATIONAL was the article where the fish keeper admitted to spending the weekend parked in their lazy-boy just watching the fish all weekend. I could so do that, and I don't even have terribly interesting fish.

Do you ever listen to Click & Clack the car guys on NPR? I'm not what you'd call a regular listener, but I've tuned in ocassionally. I think I need to call them. My Ford Taurus has the weirdest damn problem. Let me explain it to you, like I would to them:

I like to listen to the radio. In fact, I tend to turn it on the moment I start up my car. That's how I noticed this problem. When I shift (my car is an automatic) into reverse, the radio cuts off. It pops back on in drive. If I go from park to drive, it will go off, but only for about five seconds. It will stay off the entire time my car is in reverse. Why does my car radio hate reverse in particular?

I would think it was just a wiring problem, except that my radio works perfectly, no matter how bumpy the road. To be a completist, I should say that my dashboard has any number of odd quirks. My spedometer is about five miles per hour off (at least if radar guns are to be believed), but all of my other gauges are fine.

So, what is it? Gremlins? A personality quirk?

Before I call them, what do you think? Anyone else have a problem like this?

There's just really no point in going on-line via dial-up these days. Everything stalls and freaks. Even gmail hates it.

I had a good writing weekend. I wrote nearly a thousand words each day. Technically, I wrote nothing on Friday, but I wrote 1,500 words on Sunday. So I'm only in the hole 500 or so. I also spent part of Saturday doing some promotion for Tate. My editor asked me to write a "Dear Reader" letter to be featured for the Penguin USA page. The example she sent me read a lot like ad copy, only longer. I'm not much of an ad copy sort, which daunted me at first, but then I realized that neither is Tate's heroine, Garnet. What I ended up sending was something in between ad copy and chatty Garnet. Anne (my editor) seemed to like it at any rate.

Tate's book is coming out next month. This means that I'm about to get really busy. I did one interview already, and now I have tackle the SF Novelists' interview so I can have that on-line for people. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I really _do_ love this part of the job. Some days, in fact, I love this sort of thing way better than the actual writing.

In other news, I thought I'd better confess some fish news.

I killed another shrimp.

Yeah, I'm pretty certain it was my fault. When I was cleaning the tank last Thursday, I moved one of the "features" and there its little white body was... all opaque and dead. CSI: Fish Tank wouldn't need a team of forensics experts to figure out that I probably trapped the little fellow under the feature when I moved it the week before. He was either crushed instantly or he starved to death. Not very pleasant, either way.

Gucci, gucci, you were a good shrimp. Although it's interesting to note we no longer name our shrimp. There's another gigantic one still alive in the tank (I saw him on Sunday,) and he's nameless. I feel kind of bad about that, but shrimp in my tank have a much harder life than even the fishes.

Everyone else is doing well. The guppies we got to replace Johnny/Giant-Girl seem happy in their salt water. If I figure out this salt water thing, you'd better look out. It's always been an ambition of mine to get a saltwater tank going some day. A mini coral reef would be awesome.

I'm all caught up on my Marvel reading. I still need to get the first issue of Secret Invasion, but, in preparation, I read the Illuminati, which I had been resisting because the only guy I like in the team-up is Black Bolt (irony!) The "team" is Mr. Fantastic, Iron Man, Dr. Strange, Professor X, Prince Namor and Black Bolt, all of whom weild crazy influence in the Marvel Universe -- you got yourself the smartest man in the universe (arguably), the richest, the weirdest (okay, he's really the master of the occult,) the guy who can read and control everyone's mind, the ruler of the seven seas, and the king of the Inhumans.

Anyway, my favorite issue is #4, which is ostensibly about talking this Skrull into becoming the new Captain Mar-Vell, but which is really about all the relationship woes everyone has with their various lovers. Frankly, I was hoping that Tony Stark would admit that his real issue is that he can't find a permanent lover because he's in love with Captain America. He didn't, but what _did_ get implied was almost more shocking! Sue Richards is having an affair with Prince Namor! (Not like we didn't see that coming, but STILL!) Anyway, in my opinion #4 was Bendis at _his_ best, which is humorous at times about relationships, but serious about them too. He does that very well.

The surprise for me in reading Illuminati was how much I ended up liking the Submarnier/Prince Namor, a guy I usually dispise. I loved how consitantly hawkish he was.

Anyway, my son is begging me to play with him, plus I still have some "homework" to do for class tomorrow night.

I just read Captain America.... First of all, I love James Buchanan Barnes as the New Cap (also I'm glad they seem to be calling him "James" instead of "Bucky," which was always so WRONG.) I particularly loved when James/Bucky/Cap stabbed Crossbones in the leg with a knife, and then proceeded to shoot up the bad guys like James Bond. So NOT Steve Rogers! Also, his attempt at making a grand speech in front of a rioting crowd was a dismal failure, which seemed very Bucky (and really, it was a nice nod to Steve, too. Dude had charisma, 1940s-style.) But, okay, Sharon (Agent 13) is having Steve's baby. Not that we probably didn't _see_ the moment of conception in CIVIL WAR, but I don't know, does it matter? I suppose the super-soldier formula was injected into Steve's blood, thus making it transmissable through blood-related things like sperm. But, as the parent of an adopted son, I've never been terribly fond of the whole the-children-of-heros-will-be-heros crap. Spider-Man will tell you, it's how you're raised more than who your parents were that makes a hero.

Second ( Read more... ) But, I will chew off my own right arm if it/he wakes up ready to go, Captain America style. That's just not good science.

Now, on to the rest....

Again for those of you who tune in for my writing bits, I have a short rant over at Wyrdsmiths' blog about Ken Tucker's review in Entertainment Weekly of Battlestar Galatica called "Now I'm Just Cranky...".

The title says it all, although for those BSG fans out there who might be thinking "aha,,Lyda's finally blown a gasket after Starbuck returned!," I don't really take on Tucker's talking points so much as his attitude towards science fiction in general.

I actually still haven't seen the premiere episode of BSG, and for the second time in so many weeks I'm kind of lamenting the fact that we don't have cable. God/dess knows I don't need any more TV in my life, but I always feel like I'm one step behind every other fan I know. I haven't read any of the new Brian Michael Bendis' Secret War stuff over at Marvel (because, again, I don't subscribe, and... uh, okay, that's more about my own laziness and the thinness of my wallet,) and I have no idea what happened on BSG. Plus, I'm a season behind on Dexter, which is a show I've fallen absolutely in love with.

Plus, last night, I realized that I still have 40,000 words to write on a novel due at the publisher in a month and three-quarters. Okay, if I write 1,000 words a day I've got it covered in 40 days, but the problem is that I've been clocking in a rather pathetic 500 -600 words a day. Time to step on the gas.

We're home (as of last night). Well, most of "we" are, anyway, as Shawn is traveling back today, having stayed an extra day in order to help finish cleaning out the house. For those of you who tune in for writing related things, I posted over at SF Novelists this afternoon: "My Dragon Takes Your Starship," which is actually a continued discussion that was started over on Wyrdsmith's by Eleanor Arnason (in true Eleanor fashion called simply "Post #3") about why fantasy out sells science fiction.

The funeral, of course, sucked. I'm not a big fan of Christian funerals with their focus on "the final reward" -- often to the exclusion of mentioning anything about the deceased -- but I though that Vicor Natalie, in particular, did a good job, well, making Pat (Shawn's dad) part of the whole ceremony. She even read a couple of lines from one of the cards Mason and I sent down, which was nice. The only strange part is that she called Pat (and then later Mason) a "hearer of souls." As Jonathan, my nephew, pointed out later, you could almost hear the reverberations every time she said that phrase. I got the feeling it was AN IMPORTANT THEME straight out of whatever Bible study workshop the congregation was into right now.

Then there was the weird guy that Jon and I first mistook for a "funeral crasher" (ala "Wedding Crashers.") Even so, he was Mr. Tacky. He gladhandled everyone there, like a politician on the circuit, and then whipped out his harmonica and took requests from the bereaved. When he came to the misfits table (Jon, Don, Mark & I) he got the cold shoulder, particularly when he started talking about his life on the railroad and how he did his job drunk.... especially the nightshifts, which I pointed out was a GREAT time to have impaired judgement. Then he tried out that old "why are they talking about Global Warming when this was a colder than average winter?" To which I said, "I believe the term is climate change." Mark got his zinger in when Mr. Tacky wanted to know if we'd like to hear anything on the harmonica and joked about not having brought his tin cup (to ask for tips), to which Mark replied, "because THAT would be tacky."

It was all very surreal. Except, I have to say that the Goddess always finds a way to bring me comfort. During all the "reborn into Christ" stuff that tends to make me twitch, I noticed that the sactuary was covered in butterfly images. Of course, it was just Easter and the butterfly is a great metaphor for the soul for Christians as well, but it also works for ME. And, if I needed any more indication that my muttering of "the Circle Song" was welcome while a duet sang the Apostles' Creed, a stag appeared out of the woods when we were packing Karen's car with the flowers. No kidding. A huge, beautiful deer stepped out of a little wooded lot (this Church was mostly in a residental area) and stared, wide-eyed at us all for the longest time. It called to mind the time when I was up in Grand Rapids with Pat and Margaret. We were sitting around the dinner table after the sun had gone down, and pop, the motion lights came on and there was this deer less than two feet away. It took our breaths away. What I loved about Pat then is that there were no jokes about wishing he'd had his gun, just an awestruck appreciation of Nature, with a captial N.

Plus, though the rest of the people gathered were impressed with the presence of the deer, I noticed, too, a pair of Canada geese who were enjoying a puddle of spring mud. Geese, as you know, mate for life. So did Pat. Twice.

You know how when you read something good you wish you were at a convention where you could yell out, "Who else has read X?" and start up a conversation? Well, my friend Rick is trying to get people to read the same story and talk about it. If you want to join in, here's the information:

----------------


For those of you who have an hour or so to spare for a bit of fiction:

My blog post today is about a short story (novelette, actually) by Ted Chiang that appeared in S&SF last year and has now been nominated for the Hugo and Nebula awards. I'm asking those of you with blogs to make a little experimental space on your blog for the links to the free audio and text versions of the story so that us and your readers can attempt a group discussion of the story -

How it works,
How it doesn't,
Whether it's deserving of the awards,
Whether it showcases modern science fiction as a still-promising genre, etc.

All I request is that you link back to my post and put a comment on mine so other people can find their way to your blog post as well.

For those of you without blogs I'm asking for participation - too much of our entertainment these days is passive. Jump in, read the story, talk about it. If you hate it, then say so. If you love it, tell us and others about it. If this works, I'll find other free - linked stories to try this with and it can become an (ir-) regular feature.

------

Pass it on if you like....

Do you ever find yourself hauted by the subject of a panel? I've been thinking a lot about the magic of places ever since Minicon and the "Magic of St. Paul/Minneapolis" panel. I remember, too, sitting next to Charles DeLint at the previous Minicon talking about how places have personality and trying to get him to admit that's why urban fantasy resonates so strongly with readers -- which is to say that place magic is the kind of magic that people can readily agree feels "true."

There are a number of reasons why Valparasio has never appealed to me. No offense intended to anyone who lives here, because a lot of my reaction to it has to do with the fact that there was some family tension around Shawn's folk's move here. Shawn, of course, has been here a number of times now, what, with her father's illness, and she's noticed some things that really speak about the magic of THIS place.

They're brutal to their trees. You know how in Minneapolis/St. Paul the city cuts or trims tree limbs that are close to powerlines -- usually making the trees into strange "V"s with the center part mising? Well, in ValPo, they just hack off half the tree, leaving behind trees that look they they're perpetually being bent in a VERY Strong wind. Also, Shawn noticed that when they do tree removal, they don't really. They'll cut the tree off at the trunk and leave it sitting there... not the little bits of tree stumps that need digging out, but giant eigtheen foot... well, markers -- like tree grave markers. Intentional or not, it seems like this town hates trees.

Also, we were in Walgreen's today picking up "feminine supplies," and there was a nice guy there who smiled at me a couple of times, and smiling back, I realized he was the first black face I'd seen here -- EVER. Given how close this town is to Gary and Chicago, the lack of African Americans is just down right creepy. Where'd all the black people go? Because this town is very ethnic in other ways -- there's excellent Polish sausage and lots of authentic Greek resaurants and Latino/a faces here and there.

I think faeries like multicultural cities that are nicer to their trees.

Maybe I'm just grumpy because I never wanted Shawn's dad to move so far away, but the only magic this town seems to have going for it are the fireflies.... and the eagles.

That's been pretty awesome. Shawn's dad used to love to sit outside in the sun and watch the neighborhood. We've been keeping up the vigil for him, in his absence, and Shawn's brother Greg and his wife Barb have seen two eagles in the two days they were here. Someone once told me that eagles are grandfathers in some Native American cultures. So grandpa's come back to his favorite spots.

That's cool.

After spending the night in LaCrosse, Shawn and I drove to Indiana today. It was a long and lesuirely drive. As Shawn continually pointed it out, we only had to arrive by Sunday at 2 pm (for the funeral,) and, well, it's not like there was any reason to rush. We stopped at an "Iron Skillet" (not, sadly the "Iron Chef") for a sit down meal, which was fairly unremarkable except that they offered buscuits and gravy a rare treat for a Northern girl like me. For some reason, they had a monitor on the wall in the front seating area that showed order numbers when they came up. I watched number 11 pop up and then after a few minutes it started blinking. Then after a few more minutes the flashing got more frantic. I told Shawn I was convinced that it was our order wilting under the heat lamp, although it turned out we were 32. Food was good. Nothing to write home about, but good road fare.

We don't usually take that much time out of the trip, but I just didn't want to do a McMeal. I was feeling adventurous enough to try the "Iron Skillet" with its trucker-sized portions, but we did have to turn away from "Grubb's Steaks" which one of the highway signs pointed us to a few miles earlier, because, as Shawn put it, as we pulled up to this rickety looking shack two and a half miles from the highway, you could almost hear the Deliverance style banjo music playing in the deserted parking lot. Do you ever wonder if you narrowly avoided being the beginning of a horror movie? We certainly did.

Anyway, the point is, we've arrived safely (and wireless is working.)

Steve's car (as we call our car) has a tendency toward rattling. Thus, I'm sitting at Coffee News, a coffee shop/restaurant a block or two from our car mechanic's, waiting for the call that they've removed the heat sheild that had become loose under the car and was making a god-awful racket. I'm going to have to get up soon, though, because I need to pick up Mason in an hour, and if they can't do it by then I'm just going to have to bring the car back later today -- after running about a million errands. There are pictures of Shawn's dad that need to be picked up at ProEX (for the funeral), kitty litter and food to buy (because we leave tomorrow), stuff to drop off in the mail (a book for a fan in Scotland and papers for a student who missed class last night), and an overdue library book that needs returning.

*sigh* I've turned into such a soccer mom.

In the meantime, I haven't written a blasted word on Tate's latest novel. I should never have discovered that my deadline is June. I work so much better under pressure. :-)

Yesterday was "crazy hair day" at Mason's school in honor of Shawn's birthday, otherwise known as April Fool's. I was pleased to discover a lot of the boys in Mason's class participated. Mason was really excited to do it, but, being a couple of lesbians, we had to do a pretty serious hunt around the house to find any PRODUCT to add to his hair. I pull out -- and dusted off -- an old curling iron, and we curled Mason's hair. From the back of the medicine cabniet I found some hairspray that some enterprising Aveda stylist talked me into at some point. It was really cute the way Mason worried over his "curls" all morning until he got to school. A lot of the kids had that cool spray on glitter/color, which one of the students snarkily informed me I "_could_ have gotten at Target" for Mason if I were a better mom (okay, she didn't actually add that last part, but it was said in that four year-old way that implied HER mom was much smarter than I was.)

Shawn's birthday was relatively low key given how she's been feeling about her dad's death -- and the fact that I had to teach last night. But, Mason and I made a cake (pink! Shawn's least favorite color -- long story) and she had various gifts to open (oooh! small boxes!) and flowers delivered to her work (pussy willows! tulips!). So there was some fuss made, which I think she needed.

Another funny story. Last night after class, Shawn and I were talking and laughing about life, the universe, and everything and I teased her that she's been much chattier since her father died. She said, "Actually, I'm between books." I had to laugh. It's good to know I'm second fiddle to a good book. :-)

First of all, for those of you who tune in for writing tibits, I posted this morning over at SFNovelist: When Writers Don't Write. And yes, I was thinking of pegkerr, who has never, in my opinion, stopped BEING a writer in any sense of the word.

This weekend was really quite pleasant. For once, Shawn and I had nowhere to go. We happily wasted Saturday playing video games with Mason and napping. On Sunday, our friend jiawen came over for brunch. I had such a blast making all sorts of treats for her: bacon, scrambled eggs, pancakes, and potatoes with cheese. Mason chattered on about "Luxor 2" a game that comes standard on a lot of computers. He's really into it -- as are Shawn and I. It's not terribly complicated. The idea is to "blow up" a chain of balls (kind of like in Centiped) by making chains of three or more of the same color. You have a little scarab beetle that you use to "toss" the balls. But, Mason really loves "adventure mode" because you follow a map that has themes and place names. He thinks it's pretty special, but has a tendency (like all us geeks) to sometimes just start talking about things without providing any kind of context. I'm sure he'll baffle grandma and grandpa Morehouse this weekend.

We've decide to let Mason sit out the funeral in Indiana. Before you get up in arms, hear me out. Mason has a double handicap. Not only is he four, but he's also not being raised Christian. A LOT of what happens in a traditional funeral is going to baffle him. Plus, there's going to be a second ceremony that he *will* attend. Shawn's dad had, during the course of his life, two wives. One, Shawn's mother, who died when Shawn was fourteen, is buried in a double plot in Grand Rapids. Pat (Shawn's dad) had decided some time ago that he wanted his ashes split between Shawn's mom and Margaret (his "new" wife.) Shawn and her immediate family (her brothers and their spouses) are planning a spreading of the ashes ceremony in Grand Rapids some time this summer. I think that this ceremony is going to make a whole lot more sense to our little pagan. He's heard a lot already about the cycle of life -- how the seed becomes the plant, which bears the seed... etc. Because it's going to be a lot less formal, he'll be more able to take an active part in the ceremony, too. I think this is a really good compromise.

Plus, with Mason with grandma and grandpa Morehouse, I'll have a chance to focus on saying good-bye to Shawn's dad too. Otherwise, my attention is always going to be on Mason. Let's only pray that the pastor doesn't read that crazy-ass story of Lazarus. I freaking hate that story, especially at funerals where it's especially creepy.

In the meantime, can I just ask? What's up with the universe? Several people I know have had an incredibly crappy month of March. I've sent more condolences cards this month than I ever hope to again.