One of Matthew’s college buddies is staying with us overnight. He’s driving in from Kansas. His in-laws are flying in from China to the Atlanta airport tomorrow, and he needed a place to crash. The in-laws don’t speak any English, and he doesn’t speak Chinese–although I assume he’s picked up some in the years since he married his wife. His wife couldn’t come because they just had a baby.
I suspect there will be language acquisition happening during the drive back to Kansas. Or a lot of awkward silence.
Hobkin appeared to be repentant about last night’s behavior. He cuddled with me all night only waking up for his midnight snack, and then coming right back. Or maybe it’s the colder nights we’ve been having and he just wanted to get under the covers.
Up to forty critiques. Gleep. And the butchery job continues. I’ve now hacked it down to a bit less than 2.8K words. I think it’s beginning to get threadbare. Going to wait for the last critiques to come in tomorrow, put the last tweaks on it, and then set it aside until there’s an opening in the submissions-to-Cricket queue.
Received my contrib copy of issue #14 of Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine with my novelette “Body and Soul Art” in it. The USPS was unkind. It’s whole, but decidedly battered around the corners. Sigh.
My review of Sci-Fiction novella, “Left of the Dial” by Paul Witcover, is up at Tangent. Hurray. But I’m back down to #5 on the Fantasy Bestseller list at Fictionwise. Fooie. Going the wrong way.