Letters to Myself

Despite all my talk of all the books I have on hand, my next two reading ventures were Making Money, by Terry Pratchett (a library book) and Goblin Hero, by Jim Hines. That second was another new book that I a) came across at Borders and b) was horrified to realize I hadn't bought yet. Both of them highly enjoyable, and well recommended.

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We've bought our pumpkins, this time shopping from a roadside stand that was guarded by three strange men. The first had no eyes, the second no ears, and the third no tongue. Their pumpkins were alien things, with tentacles and ghost rinds and a tendency to flicker in and out of existence. The men would only be paid in secrets, like who was the first girl I kissed and what do I dream about at night when the train whistle blows. Oh, and they were shriners. Brrr.

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Now that I've trimmed back the bushes at the front of the house, it's pretty damn bright in the garage in the mornings.

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Ian had developed a love of crayons. In order to keep him from trying to create wall murals for us, we're now having to keep him seated in his high chair when he feels creative (read: scribbly).

He is still adjusting to this.

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I discovered this evening that I have to start taking some vacation time off, or I will begin losing it. The vacation time, that is. My sanity is just fine. Poor me, having to go on vacation. It's a cruel world.

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Sent bio info to Electric Velocipede and Flytrap. I'm guessing that means my stuff will soon be making appearances in those fine venues.

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Judging by the most recent examples in tonight's Chinese takeout, fortune cookie writers are getting lazier and lazier.

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It's finally turned a crisp fall here, which means my walks to and from satellite parking are pleasant, delightful things, not sweaty Bataan Death marches. Admittedly, crossing the four lane road is a bit more exciting than I sometimes like, but it does keep me paying attention.

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I haven't been to archery since Ian was born. I need to do something about this. Possibly during my future soon-to-be-mandatory days off. Hmm. That just came to me.

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I am convinced Spider-Man's name is hyphenated to prevent it from becoming a last name. "Hi, I'm Ed Spidermun, a CPA from Long Island."

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"Fafner's blood trickled onto Siegfried's hand, burning it. Siegfried put it to his mouth to soothe it and discovered that the dragon's blood had given him the power to understand the speech of birds. A forest bird told Siegfried of a treasure hidden in a cave."

So remember, if you're hiding treasure, make sure to first distract the birds with a big bag of seed. The good stuff, now, with sunflowers and mullet and corn. Don't be cheap. You can spare some of that treasure. I mean, c'mon.