Goat Goat!

13 November 2002

Good morning, good morning!

I just sold "Goats' Gold" to Spellbound!

"Goats' Gold" is one of my favorite stories, and Spellbound is one of my favorite magazines, so I really don't see how this could be better. Well, if Raechel got a massive grant and upped the pay rate. That's always better. But even so: woo!

I was having a happy 5:50 a.m. anyway, but that really helps. I know, I know, "do they make a 5:50 in the morning?" But I had this huge energy surge yesterday around noon. I worked like a mad thing. I wrote e-mail to Matt, the old friend I mentioned yesterday. (There are too many Matts in the world. I just want to say that up front.) I did yoga. I worked some more. I wrote to another old friend who wrote to me (Matt's sister, Kate, yay! Just as I was about to ask him how she's doing, yay!) and cheered hurrah for the internet (yay!). I worked some more. I danced around the apartment, because when you feel the sudden need to do that and you work from home, nobody will stop you.

It was a rather frenetic couple of hours. And then I went and picked up Timprov from the airport, roughly on time, and we went down to get Mark from work. We ate at his favorite tacqueria. Next time I'm getting a fish burrito with Mark; my tamal was good, but it turns out I don't like mole sauce all that well. Although it and the sangria were a fortuitous combination. (I didn't like that particular sangria all that well, either. Sangria is so patchy that way.) And Mark and I had scoops of Haagen-Dazs while Timprov refrained out of a sense of virtue. And then we got home, and I totally crashed. I was sitting chattering on Timprov's bed and glanced at the clock. Hurrah! It said 9:00! That meant I could go to bed and feel confident that I wouldn't wake up at 4:30 in the morning. So I went to take my eyes out and brush my teeth, fine fine, good good. Realized that Timprov's clock had not been reset for daylight savings time. But by that point, I had a headache and was just beat-down tired. So off to bed I went, to sleep and sleep and wake up happy at 5:45. And then become happier at 5:50.

Selling stories is such a very good thing.

So is having the Timprov back.

(Slight mishap with the alt key. All is well now.)

And I've decided what I want for Christmas! Books and SmartWool socks, we already knew that much, and this. Or this, or this. To sum up, I want to have something to read, warm feet, and breasts that proclaim my geekhood.

It sounds good to me, anyway.

You can tell I'm way too energetic, because my brain is playing Dave Matthews Band for me on one track and another track is devoted to yelling at the DMB-playing track. So in here it's going, "Allllll the little ants go marching!" "Shut up, Dave!" "We all do it the saaaaaaame --" "Shut UP, Dave!"

I know, Momma, we don't tell people to shut up. Maybe if they're really just parts of our own twisted psyche, though? Maybe?

It's a disadvantage to thinking on more than one track, is what I'm saying.

The Internet has been keeping Zed from me, and I want him back. Or rather, keeping Zed's page from me, and I want it back. Whatever. Frustrating.

Anyway. Sarah was saying yesterday that she's getting all excited about the Not The Moose Book -- me, too! Only I feel like I should be calling it The Long Night now, just to see if I can get used to that. Timprov says he suggested The Long Night of the Vacuum Tube, not of the Vacuum Tubes. I'm still not sure of that one, although it does sound less horror movie-ish. He also suggested Finnigma, which is the equivalent of calling Reprogramming Robellion!: amusing, but not going to stick. If I can help it. Which, generally, I can't. Sigh.

But I brought up Sarah's excitement for a reason: she wants to first-read it when it's done. Anybody else? I'm not sure I'm going to be a part of my writing group much longer (and it's not their fault, and I'm willing to give them crits or have them give me crits if they volunteer to do so), so I'm kind of trying to get a mental (or physical!) list of people who would sometimes be willing to crit stories for me. Now, if you write to me and say that you sometimes would be willing to crit stories or novels for me, I'm not going to assume that you're willing to do a rush job of it on any given day, or even that your schedule for the month has room for a crit for me, just that it would be worth asking. How about it? Let me know.

Oops, I forgot to post this. Calmer stuff from yesterday -- I finished Imaginary Companions and the Children Who Create Them, and I recommend it quite highly. I also read a book about Chinese-Canadians, Gold Mountain. It was pretty clear that the author (a Chinese-Canadian himself) was really mad at the notion he encountered often, that Canada didn't have any issues with race or ethnicity. But I think he may have been overcompensating a bit as well. So. I started reading Mark Kurlansky's Salt: A World History, and so far it's covered Chinese pickling processes, burial customs, natural gas, Roman roads, and a wealth of other stuff. Interesting book. I can't wait to get to Gandhi. And unlike Cod, I don't have to worry about using the recipes he lists, because salt is not at all endangered.

Not that that's been a problem so far. Fermented fish gut pastes? Um, no, and if that's included in any of the Chinese food I love, please just don't tell me. Ignorance, bliss, yep.

Okay, so. There is work to do, in abundance, and I like it. And we'll probably go to the grocery store, me and the Timprov. Which means that it'll cost more, but the food will be better. We're getting to the point where we need everything again. Ah well. Time to get some more work done, and talk to the Timprov about insights on work since we last talked about work, and generally have a day. You have a day, too, okay?

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