Sunday, July 28th 2002 - The First Tomato of Summer
So, I started a jounal entry earlier this week, explaining why I haven't written, but I haven't the guts to post it. If you want to read what there is of it, email me at gryffyn@there.net and I'll send you the link. Actually, those of you who are tired of checking here to see if I've posted can send me an email at that address with the words "Notify list" in the subject line, and I'll create such a monster to let you know when I've updated. I know I haven't been the best about it lately, and I'd hate to lose you just because I've been in a world of hurt and anger over other things. Anyway. So, Terry Pratchett is good healing reading. Excellent to read when you're, well, hurt and angry. Akin to reading the entire Miles Vorkosigan series immediately following a breakup (which is a different strategy than my previous one, which was reading Atwood. She'll make sure you don't date men again for years, which usually isn't the goal.), Pratchett is sometimes laugh-out-loud funny, but also light and quick while still being smart and kind. The perfect, perfect thing to read after reading my late grandmother's evil, bitter will. So, dunno, hi! My life is otherwise pretty good. Tim is generally the sweet, loving, kind boyfriend he usually is and I'm generally grateful for having him in my life. Hell, I feel positively blessed sometimes to have him around. Love and family are precious things, and it's important not to take them for granted. I know, I'm all over the place. Out of practice, obviously. Holly is getting bigger overnight. I felt the baby kick the other night. I'm the first to read to her belly (a selection of some of my favorite poetry -- well, my favorite relatively *happy* poetry, that is). I'm tremendouslly excited about having a niece or nephew wittle baby waby in the house to hold and gurgle at. Very excited. Trying to reassure myself that these popular articles warning of declining fertility will *not* apply to me when I try to have a baby in 3 or 4 (or 2) years. I can wait. We're not ready yet anyway. Really. Don't need a baby right now. I mean it. sigh Happy belated birthdays to Susan and Mary Anne! Susan had a party last night, which was much fun. Got to see Jed, whom we just don't see enough of, and finally met Jen who was even cooler in person than her journal implies (and it implies she's pretty damn cool). Tim and I went an hour and a half early, which meant we had Susan to ourselves for awhile. It also meant we bailed early, but that's ok; we had fun. What else? The garden is going well. Harvested and ate the first tomato of summer (a Tigerella, which is red and orange stripes and very tasty). The others are coming along, although I've learned the hard way that one should feed them all season, not just once the leaves start turning yellow from nitrogen deficiency. Ah well. Tim and I went to Home Depot to buy a faucet thingie (so domestic we are!) and I bought a six pack of purple petunias and another of, um, dalthia? I'll have to go check, and it's dark outside now. I also bought Tim a Venus Fly Trap, which suits his personality admirably. The flower beds by the walk to our house are now peppered with purple and pink, and the porch steps don't look quite so barren. Very satisfying. Wrote today, for the first time since, well, yesterday, but it'd been awhile before that. Yesterday it was a quietly accurate witch poem about Nanie and today the ending to the Princess story, which I'm generally pretty damn pleased with. Go me! It's nice to finish that one. If I can just get that and "Pumpkin Lover" (previously the witch story) and "Blue Chuck" revised and out I think I'll have something like 15 stories in circulation. I've been itching to work on the novel again (mainly because Tim's been so good about his, and his is so good -- that and I really like my novel idea, which is good, since it'll take me forever to write it). I also have a great idea for an erotic book, which I got while reading a prospective book for work. The book has a great concept, but the author, well, can't write. He's terrible. So, I'm gonna do it better, dammit. It's something I don't have to write all at once, either, so it might actually happen. Ok, so this is a scattered entry. Sorry kids. I've been so, well, emotional, needy and vulnerable lately that it's made me unsure what to say here. This weekend's been genuinely good, though -- the first wholly good weekend maybe of the whole month. And I boy, did I need that. I'll try not to wait 24 days before I write again, but if you're worried you might like to email me and get on my notify list. Have a good week, y'all.	Exercise Log: Swimming. A week and a half now. It is my answer to sore joints, and I am encouraged both by how difficult it is and how much easier it is after only a few sessions. Writing log: Finally finished the Princess story; Tim has declared it good. Whoo! Needs revising, some other readers, more revision, but at least it's not lacking an ending any longer, which was annoying. Also, wrote a poem about a witch/ my paternal grandmother. Current Publications: The Ever Book Shoppe (a collaboration with Tim Pratt in Slow Trains Literary Journal In the Shade of You nominated in the long poem category for the Rhysling and will be reprinted in the 2002 Rhysling Anthology! "How to Suck" reprinted in From Porn to Poetry: Clean Sheets Celebrates the Erotic Mind I've been reading: Currently Reading: Moving Pictures by Terry Pratchett Finished recently: Men at Arms by Terry Pratchett Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett
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