Everybody knows about the weather in California: it never rains, right? Well, it's pretty nice right here, right now. We had some rain and a few days of cold, but now it seems like we're on track for a brilliantly clear, 70-degree Thanksgiving. Neener.
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Care for a California Fiesta? Me too. Mine has significantly less peaches and Miracle Whip, and significantly more cerveza, but then I own Weird.
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Some quick business: as posted on the 15th, Shar's BFF Holly got very sick very fast. The consensus by the vets involved is that she would have died, had she not been brought to the doggie ER. Today, I'm happy to report, she's back in action, and every bit as bouncy and ill-behaved as she ever was. The verdict was anaphlylactic shock from a Black Widow bite (the Black Widow part is not 100%, but the only suspect going.) This is probably what killed my in-laws' big Rottie boy Samson. We still miss Samson - please, if your dog is sick, don't wait. Most dogs will not show how sick they are until it's almost too late. This is a pack defense. The weak dog gets left behind. Don't appear weak.
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Okay. Now for something completely different: Is your day too normal? My condolences. Allow me to be of some assistance:
Russian dolls? I mean, come on... RUSSIAN DOLLS? It's like oysters (I heard this from a comedian, can't remember who). Somebody had to pick up an oyster once, thousands upon thousands of years ago, examine the creature inside the shell (which has an awful resemblance to a wad of aging snot) and say "Mmmmm! I gotta put this in my MOUTH!"
Someone picked up a Theremin (?? A strange enough device on its own) in one hand, and a Russian doll in the other, and had one of those "you got chocolate in my peanut butter" moments.
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Reposting from Neil Gaiman's blog - just about the cutest children's story I've seen in a very long time: "Eric" by Shaun Tan. Proof positive that writing for children can be more elegantly constructed and illustrated than most of what hits the shelves for grown-ups in any given decade. The genre is not for the faint of heart, is all I have to say.
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Seriously. Ugliest. Dress. Ever. From one of my happier blog discoveries, Found in Mom's Basement.
Set your mind at ease. This is a fashion of the not-terribly-lamented 80's; I think "The Room" mentioned may have had padding on the walls. The dress will (in all probability) not show up again.
The site is definitely worth a peruse or two, if you're into vintage ephemera (ie, antique paper advertising).
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Here's another one, because I can't seem to make myself stop. I knew there was a reason I never went to any of the proms or dances.
My eyes. They bleed.
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Writing Aedahn today - third book of the Sidhe Trilogy I'm working on. Honestly, I should stop calling it a trilogy. I just started a "book" (more a collection of notes, at this point) for two more characters, not necessarily because they're going to get their own, but I needed some place to put their crap. Still, this all smells like it's going to stretch beyond three books, is all I'm saying.
Aedahn is the violent one, bless his little cotton socks. I always have to be heading towards or in a certain time of month, I kid you not, before I can write him.
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We're off to Thanksgiving at Jeff's mom and stepdad's house tomorrow. Today, for some complex reason, they decided it would be a good time to remodel the kitchen. Carol is a gourmet chef, so the kitchen is a huge place vis-a-vis Thanksgiving, for her. One has to wonder. Anyway, Jeff's going over to help them work on the kitchen today, and he's going back on Saturday to help them install windows. No. Not MS. Anderson.
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Ok, off now. Otherworld beckons.
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