Another friend has launched a web site! This one is called Dance on the Sidewalk, and showcases Tara’s wonderful line of what she calls functional art: hand-decorated furniture and trompe-l’oeuil work.
The best part about it? There are little owlies everywhere. Anyone who uses owlies on their business cards is automatically inducted into the newly-formed Owldaughter Guild (the inner workings of which I’ll figure out someday later). Muah-hah-hah!
Well, today is the day Roo heads out into the wild North American yonder on her MA pilgrimage, gathering hard data, soft data, experience, and mileage to collate into some sort of coherent report in order to graduate. The cool part: she’s studying the SF community phenomenon by attending F/SF conventions all summer. The drawback: she’s studying the SF community phenomenon by attending F/SF conventions all summer. One con is fun; two’s okay, if they’re well spaced apart. If, however, you’ve at any time ever been involved with the SF community, you might have some inkling of how homocidal she’s likely to be by the time September rolls around.
Good luck, Roo! Safe trip! I wish you infinite patience, and may your sense of humour remain intact!
See, it’s times like this, when it’s quarter to one in the morning (oh, lord), when I wish that I had one of those silent Yamaha electric cellos, so I could plug in a set of earphones and practice without waking anyone up.
Two AA batteries not included, of course. And you have to supply your own headphones. But I’d never have to worry about people kicking my cello on the bus again, or fielding dumb comments about the big guitar that I’m carrying, now, would I.
Carrying an amp around with me might be problematic, though. I already have enough trouble with the full-size classic acoustic cello and a music stand.
Yes, folks, another cheerful novel from Margaret Atwood, Canada’s doyenne of sunshine and lollipops….
(It’s just a trend I’ve noticed in Atwood’s themes. No offence intended towards people who wrote their Masters theses on Atwood novels, of course.)
Good gods – it’s tomorrow.
Nope. Still not sleepy.
Terribly thirsty, though.
I spent much of Friday moving things around – books, furniture, stuff like that – and by doubling up books on most of my shelves, I managed to not only find place for the stacks of books on the floor, but empty half a shelf. Just look at that, I thought to myself, all pleased. Now I have room for the books that will no doubtedly come my way throughout the next months. To celebrate, I stopped by the secondhand bookstore before heading out to the pub for various birthday celebrations, and wouldn’t you just know, in the philosophy/mythology section I found five books that I had to own. I mean honestly, a hand-bound copy of Joseph Campbell’s The Mythic Image? I teach this stuff, for heaven’s sake, how can I pass that up? And the book on creation myths around the world? And an original mass-market edition of Harner’s Way of the Shaman?
Needless to say, that half-shelf is no longer empty. But I’m still thrifty and virtuous – I paid less than thirty dollars for the lot of them. These days, the Campbell alone sells for about seventy-five dollars.
Already it brims with Post-It notes, ready for lecturing. (This is proof of my geekiness too, isn’t it, Skippy.)