Tea and Dragons

As in, DC/B'more/VA. 

This Saturday, the 6th, there will be a Robin McKinley-sanctioned informal party to celebrate the launch of her latest book, Pegasus.  It will be at the Arundel Mills mall, hopefully in the Books-a-Million.  More details here. 

If I may be pardoned an excursion into the local idiom, y'all come. 

This is a bit belated, but things are still in full swing.  I'm participating in the savesnowssanity auction, having put up a ltd. ed. bottle of BPAL; I urge anyone with a bit of money to spare, or something nifty to offer, to go check it out.  It's not just perfume; it ranges from jewelry to clothing to postcards to stratagems, and I'm not kidding about that last one. 

Today was not a terribly good day at work--not bad, just full of small goings-wrong and my own sleepiness (muse. tail. still a problem). I stayed late, and was packing up to leave, barely hearing the people in the office next to me--they have no ceilings, per se, a cross between a regular office and a cubicle. The conversation sounded like someone had brought in a newborn, and they were taking pictures of it. 

Then someone I didn't know popped through my door, and a few seconds later I found out I was right...in a sense. 








It apparently pupaed in someone's office--I don't have the story behind that one--but it had just emerged this afternoon, and staggered over the divider and into my office.  I managed to capture it in an empty cookie tub, terrified of hurting it somehow, and the lady who'd had it told me quite casually that I should take it outside and release it. 

So I rushed downstairs, frightened that it would beat itself to death against the plastic, though it actually settled fairly quickly.  Fortunately there were still some blooming plants left outside the doors, so I lifted it gently out--on my fingers, not by pinching it--and introduced it to the blossom as shown. 

I stood and watched it for a few minutes; after a while it began flexing its wings and unrolling its proboscis, though I didn't see it manage to hit any of the flowers.  I wanted to see it at least eat, but I had a bus to catch despite my fears that someone would spot it and try to catch it. 

If I had written this as a story, I would have stayed long enough to see it lift into the sky, though whether I applied any metaphorical meaning to the event would depend on the plot/characters.  Real life is more rushed sometimes.  

Still, I've never seen a butterfly so vivid and undimmed, which makes sense if it was so new.  My cellphone really doesn't do it justice. 

Back when I was leaving nursery school my teacher let me take home my favorite toy from the toy boxes because I could not bear to be parted from her.  She had been left there by a previous student.  I have loved her, sometimes quite hard, for many years since; she has had her eyes replaced and she's been repeatedly washed, and she's much more worn now, though she was hardly pristine then. I've always wondered where she came from, as I've never seen a stuffed cat quite like her. 

In a moment of boredom I began searching on Google Images to see if I could find her.  To shorten a long story, I got an informal opinion from an expert, and it turns out that my battered, beloved Mittens is a Steiff. 

I never guessed such a lofty pedigree, and her button was long gone by the time she came my way.  She has no value, of course, not in her condition.  Except to me, and not because of her origins! 

I still love her dearly.  Some things one never outgrows. 










P.S. By request. ;)

YES.  Yes, yes, yes. 

I looked up this evening and saw seven cranes flying by high overhead.  It made me wonder what seven cranes meant. 

Then I thought, they don't mean anything.  They're just beautiful. 

I'm told that if one wishes to keep cut apples from browning, covering them in lemon juice will protect them. 

Apparently, if you don't have lemon juice, lemonade will do just fine. 

Heh.  CBS is rerunning CSI:NY tonight, some episode about a guy with some kind of time machine.  This being CSI:NY, of course it doesn't work.  But I was tickled no end to hear the TARDIS grind mixed into the soundtrack when it was turned on.  

I'm delighted to announce that the Firefly podcast Tales from the 'Verse has selected my post-Serenity story, The Meeting Time, as one of the stories in its first episode.  I owe Penn O'Hara thanks for letting me submit the story, as it was a gift to her.  Go here to subscribe; it's free. 

A Viking longship vs. the USS Enterprise aircraft carrier.  What an image.