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Red Neck, Red Hands

Ah, spring. When a young woman's fancy turns towards preparing flower beds. Azaleas don't plant themselves, unfortunately, which means I'm out there digging in the stupid Georgia red clay. Stupid, stupid clay. Rototiller bounces right off the stuff, even with the throttle wide open. So first I had to vigorously apply the pickaxe and the shovel and even the hand to break it apart and give the tiller a foothold (so to speak). But the weather stayed cool and the cloud cover kept my farmer's tan to a minimum. The front bed now has a decent base done. Next up: we'll raise the bed through the use of many many bricks and a whole lot more dirt.

And while I labored, email brought a 53 day rejection from Abyss & Apex signed by their new submissions editor. I guess their recent staff turnover has been handled.

Currently Reading: After the latest Spenser novel, Bad Business, I'm currently working Rudy Rucker's transreal White Light.