It’s no good, Capt’n, she’s fogged in!

Today is one of those brilliant writing days. It’s raining like gangbusters, and I can hear the sound of the traffic on 287 because of the shusshing of the tires on the tarmac. When I finally took the time to look up from my work this morning I was shocked to see how foggy it was out, and how little I could see of the opposing hillside. I immediately opened my balcony door too see if it was just the rain on the window hindering my eyesight, and the briskness of the air outside had me pulling on a pair of fuzzy slippers right away. Fuzzy slippers! In summer!
It was not the rain on the window; I really was socked in all around.
As I type, a big boom of thunder has rattled my windows, and I’m happy I’m inside, pecking away on my computer. I’m also happy about the fact that I’ve decided to shelve my swim for today and double up on workouts tomorrow. It’s far too good of a writing day to waste on getting to the pool and back by bus and over an hour on swim.
What I’m not happy about, however, is the lack of overhead lighting in our little apartment. The grey day outside has made it obvious that I won’t be able to put off my big lighting purchase until after July, as I had planned.
I am in the market for an Arco lamp by Castiglioni. I have the name of a fairly reliable reproducer in Brooklyn, so I believe I will make that purchase sooner rather than later. I have wanted one of these lamps forever, so I think I will take advantage of the fact that we are going to be in Brooklyn this week, and pick it up. Boy, oh boy. Lighting.
arcomoma
Anyhow. It’s already 9:25. On to breakfast with the newspaper and then forward to more writing and reading. Forthcoming: a review of Elijah of Buxton, and some reading of the first book in the Faeries of Dreamdark series. And, of course, pecking pecking at the keyboard, trying to make my most recent story arc work.

Writer, editor, general crazy-pants.

It’s a fine evening to stay in

Mike says that Twiglets are good with beer. So I am indulging in that, as a late afternoon snack, and I think it well deserved: today’s triathlon workout was 5 hours and twenty minutes of cycling followed by 15 minutes of jog, and it’s done now.
I give myself about two hours before I fall asleep on the couch with my Twiglets resting on my belly and an empty beer bottle clutched in my pruny paws. (This is what happens when you don’t hydrate well and then almost fall asleep in the shower.)
Anyway, we’d ridden about an hour and a half north and had come back most of the way to refuel when we saw the above photo. That tree wasn’t there when we rode up, so I’m glad we were not there when it fell right across the path, as I might have actually pee’ed in my pants if I had been anywhere near it. This is nowhere near as exciting as what Jeff Kerkove sawon his training ride today. We only have in common the fact that I bet Jeff would have also pee’ed his bike shorts if he’d witnessed either the tree falling OR that truck veering off the road, right into the bike lane.
We did the ride on the North County Trail, which is all gorgeous and mostly shaded, and a really lovely respite from the hilly course we’ve been riding at Harriman State Park. Here’s Jim on the path:
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Also, the trail is on a rail line that used to run from Westchester County, where we live, straight up through Putnam County the next county up, and there are remnants of the old railroad still around. Here’s the Millwood train station.
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I wish they’d do something with this station. Like, I don’t know, open an ice-cream shop. For bicyclists.
Now I want to do nothing but lie about on the sofa and read YA fiction. I could go do it outside, by our building’s pool, but I am *way* too tired to go downstairs.

Writer, editor, general crazy-pants.

They’re here…

Some people have talismans. I have memories of food, and I carry them everywhere. They do me just as well, providing me with comfort and more often than not some fodder for thought.
I know, that sounds bizarre. But it’s true. I love food. I love the preparation of it, the serving of it, the stuff that goes on around it.
Perhaps it’s this last that makes the most sense. For me, the memory of food often brings into sharp focus what I was doing when I consumed it. For instance, one of our last meals before leaving Chicago was a meal at Moto with Jim’s parents. His father is a chef, and his mother a generally adventuresome sort, in many ways, so that was a good memory.
Or, since Moto is one of those weird molecular gastronomy restaurants and likely to be an event in and of itself, perhaps a better example is the way that my friends gather around the bar as I’m doing food prep, or mixing drinks; or the way they will try anything that comes out of my kitchen, even if it’s horrible.
At any rate, witness the Twiglets. I order them in bulk. They’re a British snack food item and I can’t seem to find them on grocery store shelves here. They are whole-wheat thingys, and, therefore, somewhat good for me, and they are curiously addictive.
This may be because they bring back sharp memories of my last trip to England, where I stayed with my good friend Lara and took advantage of her hospitality and her considerable culinary skills. Among the events that peppered my last stay were some light triathlon training (Lara, Jim, and I will do the Switzerland Ironman in less than two months), some good evenings out, ShelterBox training, and some good chat about writing and even a few tea dates.
Anyway. I first ordered them almost immediately upon my return from England in early March, and almost promptly either ate them all or shared them with friends.
Now I’ve got a whole new batch. Wonder how long these will last.

p6050070

Writer, editor, general crazy-pants.

testing, testing

Moving house is never, ever easy.

We’ve just navigated a move from our lovely little home in Chicago, Illinois, smack in the heart of Wrigleyville, back to our home state of New York.

3-02-06-015(This is our home in Chicago.)

We were quite happy there.

dsc06600(See? Happy.)

But sometimes, life throws you a curveball. And you just have to follow its arc. We’re both quite happy to be back.

In the midst of all of this moving, I thought, hey, why not build a web site? Why not? I mean, after all, when you’re a writer who grew up, professionally, anyway, in the era of actually mailing your portfolio to an editor and then sending a messenger to pick it back up again, well, building a web site is kind of a daunting thing. But it’s very exciting, for sure.

So bear with me while I move house in a virtual sense, okay? With luck, everything will be sorted out here soon. In the meantime, thanks for reading!moving(Moving. Yep, them’s a lot of boxes. Can you imagine what it looks like in my head?)

Writer, editor, general crazy-pants.

I like the idea of saying “Hello” to the world…

after-a-long-romp

…but I think that might be a misnomer.

I mean, good grief, what kind of P.A. system would *that* take?

For now, we’ll just say hello to the blogosphere. ‘Cause *that takes a smaller P.A. system.

Later today, and tomorrow, we’ll upload fun things, like Things I Wrote, some Things I’m Working On, and maybe even Things I Like.

Writer, editor, general crazy-pants.

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