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No News Is Good News

It's been a quiet week, letters to myself-wise speaking (I handwrite my address on the SASEs I include with my submissions, so when I hear back from an editor Lisa always calls it "a letter to myself." Speaking in a Freudian way, this is interesting as these letters usually contain bad news. Hmm). Oh, we've gotten mail, all right. Generally speaking, this boiled down to:

  • Bills

  • Credit card offers, from both the biggies (Visa, MC) to the more obscure (Discover, American Express, Diner's Club)

  • One package from Amazon.co.uk, containing the third J. K. Rowling book, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Took four days to get to Iowa from the day I ordered it, it cost about the same as it would've if I'd bought the American edition, and I got it six weeks before it comes out here in the States. Ha!

  • A message from god. Zeus, I think. Apparentally he wants me dead. Two nights ago a badass t-storm rolled through in the middle of the night. We were awake, Lisa watching the weather channel to see what the radar looked like and I finishing a Howard Waldrop collection, when there was a bright flash and a loud KABOOM that sounded like someone had cracked open the earth. In short, lightning hit the tree across the street. End result was several largish shards of wood scattered about the street (a particularly cool one is now in Lisa's office at work, acting as a paperweight) and a dead TV. Everything else was fine. Thank goodness ever since Zeus went into retirement his aim has gone downhill.
Later: As I sat in the house this afternoon, escaping the heat (118 degree heat index. Ouch), I heard a crack-crack-crack-boom. I glance out the window. Sure enuf, the Zeus-touched tree finally collapsed under its own weight and split in half (and is now blocking the road, incidentally). The tree is dead. Long live the tree.