Natal Anatomica

December 12

As I did last year, here's the breakdown of my birthday.

(I must say, this year was vastly better than the last)

I woke at 8:50 a.m., which is approximately the time I should be leaving for work. I took a shower, bade Heather farewell, and zoomed to the Post Office and then to work. About ten minutes later I left again, to drive my boss around on various errands. We chatted about the Starlight 3 antho and Perdido Street Station, and he told me a bit about Miéville's upcoming book The Scar, of which my boss has read two versions already. We had lunch-- I ate an enormous bowl of Chinese soup. Mmm.

Worked on the issue in the afternoon, looking at my ever-growing to-do list and taking deep breaths. Trying to figure out why work is so disproportionately stressing me out lately. I think it's because I'm still kinda sick. I don't have a lot of spare energy, and little things are seeming big.

Checked my e-mail, to find many lovely birthday wishes and e-cards-- thank you all, and more personal responses are forthcoming. My birthday last year went more-or-less unnoticed, except for Meg, so this was a nice treat.

Drove home, to find no interesting mail. A sadness. Then Heather came home-- a gladness! She gave me gifts! The Red Riding Hood Scary Tales figure (so very cool), and a copy of Santa Steps Out. I'd been wanting to read that book, which Heather didn't know-- she bought it based on a co-worker's recommendation that led her to believe I'd like it.

She also gave me a card that included a very beautiful poem she'd written for me... suffused me with love and tenderness and happiness that this woman is in my life. I'm lucky to be so well-loved.

Then Heather took me out, without telling me where we were going. She took me to Bay Wolf! I had filet mignon, people. I had amazing potato soup. I had pumpkin cheesecake and an excellent cup of coffee. I had fabulous wine. It's the best meal I've had in months (since the last time I ate at Bay Wolf, probably-- its reputation is justly deserved). Heather is so so good to me.

We had some time to kill before the next phase of the evening, so we went a-walking, wound up in the bookstore, browsing around. I was telling Heather how I've been craving Jonathan Carroll lately, how I just started reading my boss's copy of one of his books on my lunch breaks. We browsed more, and Heather said "Hey, do you have this one?" And points to a copy of Carroll's After Silence. Which is the very book I just started reading at work. Whee! So I bought it. There were actually two copies of the same edition, one a bit more battered than the other. (The battered copy is still available, at the Spectator bookshop on Piedmont Ave. If you're looking for it. It's about 7 bucks, I think) What a nice find! The universe decided to give me a birthday gift.

From there we went to the tea bar, sat at the counter talking and sipping and reading. After a while Heather led me back down the street, to a spa. Hot tub, whoo!

We spent an hour luxuriating in a lovely outdoor hot tub, sighing with pleasure, talking about writing and art and everything, nuzzling.

Such a gloriously decadent night!

After hot tub we went home, where I finished off my last little bit of vanilla ice cream. Heather gave me another present, "Venal Anatomica" from Clive Barker's Tortured Souls! Very cool. I now have a nice little collection of figures-- 4 of the Tortured Souls and four of the Scary Tales (Alice, the White Rabbit, Red, and Wolf). I could get into collecting such things. They're perfect gifts; things I love, but would be unlikely to buy on my own.

Then I checked my e-mail, to find a kindly rejection from Strange Horizons. And an even more kindly acceptance from the Why I Hate Aliens antho, for my story "At the Happi-Mart and After". As M'ris says, how many other boy-meets-alien-kangaroo-girl stories is she likely to receive? So that was lovely, too.

We watched the Simpsons, and it was that rarest of beasts, an episode I'd never seen before. Ah, blissful blissfulness.

Heather went to bed, content in the knowledge that she'd given me a perfect birthday evening. Mmm. I finished reading Perdido Street Station, which I liked a lot. Definitely one of the best books I've read this year (and my boss says The Scar is even better).

Now, I write, and soon, I sleep.

Good night, first quarter-century of my life...

Tim Pratt
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222