Kage Baker, when faced with the annoying vicissitudes of everyday life, handed them off to me and dove into her computer screen.
I would love to do that, but I think I’d need a tesseract to accomplish it. It just doesn’t work. No matter what I hand off to myself, when I check I am still holding it …
It’s grey and cold drizzly. The endorphins from yestreday’s massive and successful garden cleanup have faded. My back hurts. We have no cookies. The little black cat is snoring in my bed, after a fun session of typing nonsense on my computer and butt-dialing emails.
A nice lady who once commissioned a story from Kage wants to reprint the book it was in – yay! But my agent can’t find the contract and wants said nice lady to wait 3 weeks for her to locate it – boo. The nice lady has a deadline and is unhappy. Whole thing is now in my lap. I resent everyone involved.
May Grey has descended upon Los Angeles – really, we’re under a marine layer about a mile deep, and it’s dissolving on anything more than 50 feet high. Not even decent rain; the whole city just seems to be defrosting messily. It’s too warm for a sweater and too chill to go without. Why oh why is the Helms Truck extinct? I could really use a fresh glazed doughnut the size of a Vespa tire about now.
The heck with it. I’m going back to bed. Move over, little black cat.
Sound right to me. In other news: Just got my four copies of “Best Of” from Subterranean (I’m the the local Kage-pusher). All the addicts involved are Happy! Rest well…
Oh, good news, Mark! I love hearing that a publisher is on the ball.
The best glazed donuts in the history of the world..
And the biggest, Anne. Oh, I miss those doughnuts.
And only a nickel!
I *so* miss the Helms man coming up the street, with that whistle that was so distinctive. I’d always beg my mom for the monty to get one of those glazed donuts. Heaven in a hand-held snack, is what those donuts were.
Money, even. Can’t type, or spell, tonight, apparently.