Lepidopterist From Hell
October 28
Whoo. Lots going on.
Last night Heather and I went to a Hallowe'en party. We dressed up! She was an adorably gorgeous butterfly. I was a fierce lepidopterist. My costume consisted of khaki, a hat covered in my previous victims (butterfly barrettes and hairclips of all sizes and sorts; Heather has about a score of those), and a butterfly net (actually a trout net, but that's okay). I spent most of the evening putting the net over Heather's head. That is the sort of joke of which I never tire. The party was dark, though, and no one could see the butterflies pinned to my hat, and most everyone mistakenly assumed I was dressed as a fisherman. Ah, well. We got some pictures, so sometime when we get them developed and scanned, we'll post them.
The lovely Susan Marie went with us, dressed in a tiara and a gold lamé (lamè?) tablecloth, and a shirt with a rocket ship on the front. She was Princess Fabuloso, interplanetary expatriate superhero, and she was pretty damned cute. The party was dim and food-filled, with good hot cider and bad mulled wine. We played Werewolf (Hallowe'en-themed Mafia). I watched much of Little Shop of Horrors (one of my favorite movies, when I was a kid).
Lessee. On Friday we watched The Exorcist, which still holds up. Good flick. While watching it, the last piece of my Meranhu novel fell into place, hurrah! Little mental tumblers turning over. So I think that'll be the fun, action-filled book I do after Rangergirl. Whee!
I did lots more submissions; almost all my stories are out, now. I have to revise "Bone Sigh," and send out a couple of other things, and I'll be caught up, hurrah. I'm still incredibly excited about writing. It doesn't seem like a fluke. It seems like I'm really past my malaise, into a good writing-space. Heather and I are talking about routines, schedules, ways to treat our writing more seriously... and we're gearing up on a Secret Project, which will be announced... oh, sometime before Xmas, probably. Barring the unforeseen, god willing and the river don't rise.
I finished reading Knuckles and Tales, by Nancy Collins, and it's really good. I like the short stories better than any of her novels. I think I can write a good, substantive review of the collection. Southern Gothics, I love them...
Today is mine and Heather's six-month Thingiversary. (Lunaversary?) Anyway, six months since the rather arbitrary date we chose as the beginning of our relationship. I don't mean to sound flip; it really is a milestone. We went out for a nice breakfast at Mama's (they have fabulous french toast, among all their other fabulous fare). We'd planned to go somewhere green and read and write, but it got cold and cloudy and smelling of rain (and my ankle began aching; apparently I've acquired one of those injuries that foretells rain; that's as psychic as I get). So we stayed home and shagged instead, which is by no means a bad way to spend one's thingiversary.
This afternoon Heather's sister Holly came over; she's staying with us this week. They hung out while I puttered upstairs and sent out some poetry submissions. The three of us went to dinner at the Red Tractor in Rock Ridge, a "plain food" sorta place. But it's California, so they were garlic mashed potatoes, and there was a vegetarian "No Meat Loaf." Good countryish food, though.
We went to a used bookstore. I found a Tiptree collection for Heather; an impromptu thingiversary present. We also bought Preludes and Nocturnes because we've been meaning to start collecting the Sandman graphic novels, and it was there, used and cheap and in decent condition.
Then we went to see From Hell, which was pretty lovely. I enjoyed it.
Once home, I retired upstairs and finished writing my Marla story. Entitled "Pale Dog," it's 9300 words in length. It still needs to be revised, but I think it's going to finish up pretty close to that length anyway. Ah, well; I'll sell it somewhere, even if it is long.
And it's still early, so I'll probably read some Wicked, and watch Heather play Diablo II, and then sleep...
