Too busy to brain. Here, have some bits and pieces.
Wicked Girls T-shirts.
My mother is on her way to Carmichael, California to pick these up right now. So assuming that there hasn't been some horrifying and unforeseen printing error (which seems unlikely, as we had very clear graphics, and a very clear work order), I will be starting to mail these out this week. I'll post again once I'm absolutely certain that everything is good. I will also announce when and where hand-delivery will be available, for those of you who don't want to wait for the mail, but will be in the same place as me in the weeks to come.
CD statuses.
When CD Baby runs out of Pretty Little Dead Girl, that's it, it's gone. I have twelve copies left; five are going into my vault, and the other seven will be going to the book release party and my October conventions. I will definitely be reprinting Wicked Girls, but it may need to wait until early 2012, since there's a whole process involved in doing something like this. I am also considering reprinting Stars Fall Home, with certain changes/enhancements (new cover, to match better with Wicked Girls, maybe a new track). I'll keep you posted.
Conclave, October 9th to 11th.
I'll be posting about this at more length once I make it through the weekend alive, but next week, I am the Literary Guest at Conclave, in Romulus, Michigan. It's going to be a big party, with me teaming up with Wild Mercy (including Amy McNally) to set the stage on fire, as well as bunches and bunches of exciting panels, fabulous events, and general good times. If you're in the Michigan area, this should definitely be on your radar.
Mailing things.
If you're expecting me to mail you something, and I haven't mailed you something, and you're wondering if the post office may have eaten your something, it didn't. Everything has been insane, and I am way, way behind on my mailing of things. I am sincerely hoping that the shirts will fix this, since it's going to mean taking van-loads of crap to the post office, and that usually inspires more stuff to go into the mail.
Why aren't you watching this?
Man, the new season of Fringe is so good that I want to take it home to meet my parents. If you're not caught up, or if you dropped the show in season one before it got good (which many people did, I know), you should totally give it a go. I could not love this show more if it was dipped in chocolate and rolled in candy corn.
...okay, maybe that's going a little far. Om nom nom.
Candy corn.
In my belly.
The Pirates of Emerson!
If you're in the San Francisco Bay Area, you should be aware that the Pirates of Emerson haunted house park is re-opening tomorrow night for its annual Halloween bash. There are six haunted houses included in general admission, and there's a corn maze, and ghost pirates and and and. It's like someone made a sweet, refreshing oasis for my soul, and then kindly dropped it within easy driving distance. Best of all, general admission is only $20. Not suitable for easily scared children, adults, or house pets. Hugely recommended for everybody else.
Anything else?
Be...excellent to one another.
And PARTY ON, DUDES!
Wicked Girls T-shirts.
My mother is on her way to Carmichael, California to pick these up right now. So assuming that there hasn't been some horrifying and unforeseen printing error (which seems unlikely, as we had very clear graphics, and a very clear work order), I will be starting to mail these out this week. I'll post again once I'm absolutely certain that everything is good. I will also announce when and where hand-delivery will be available, for those of you who don't want to wait for the mail, but will be in the same place as me in the weeks to come.
CD statuses.
When CD Baby runs out of Pretty Little Dead Girl, that's it, it's gone. I have twelve copies left; five are going into my vault, and the other seven will be going to the book release party and my October conventions. I will definitely be reprinting Wicked Girls, but it may need to wait until early 2012, since there's a whole process involved in doing something like this. I am also considering reprinting Stars Fall Home, with certain changes/enhancements (new cover, to match better with Wicked Girls, maybe a new track). I'll keep you posted.
Conclave, October 9th to 11th.
I'll be posting about this at more length once I make it through the weekend alive, but next week, I am the Literary Guest at Conclave, in Romulus, Michigan. It's going to be a big party, with me teaming up with Wild Mercy (including Amy McNally) to set the stage on fire, as well as bunches and bunches of exciting panels, fabulous events, and general good times. If you're in the Michigan area, this should definitely be on your radar.
Mailing things.
If you're expecting me to mail you something, and I haven't mailed you something, and you're wondering if the post office may have eaten your something, it didn't. Everything has been insane, and I am way, way behind on my mailing of things. I am sincerely hoping that the shirts will fix this, since it's going to mean taking van-loads of crap to the post office, and that usually inspires more stuff to go into the mail.
Why aren't you watching this?
Man, the new season of Fringe is so good that I want to take it home to meet my parents. If you're not caught up, or if you dropped the show in season one before it got good (which many people did, I know), you should totally give it a go. I could not love this show more if it was dipped in chocolate and rolled in candy corn.
...okay, maybe that's going a little far. Om nom nom.
Candy corn.
In my belly.
The Pirates of Emerson!
If you're in the San Francisco Bay Area, you should be aware that the Pirates of Emerson haunted house park is re-opening tomorrow night for its annual Halloween bash. There are six haunted houses included in general admission, and there's a corn maze, and ghost pirates and and and. It's like someone made a sweet, refreshing oasis for my soul, and then kindly dropped it within easy driving distance. Best of all, general admission is only $20. Not suitable for easily scared children, adults, or house pets. Hugely recommended for everybody else.
Anything else?
Be...excellent to one another.
And PARTY ON, DUDES!
- Current Mood:
busy - Current Music:Meredith Brooks, "Wash My Hands."
Australia!
On Friday, August 27th, I left work to head for Kate's house, since she (and her wonderful car) was going to get me to the airport. My flight, I said, left at eight, so I needed to be there at six. I was quite confident on this point. There will be more on this later.
Even after driving to Concord, packing the last of my things, brushing the cats in a guilty "please don't hate me for leaving you" manner, and stopping at Sweet Tomatoes for dinner, we got me to the airport by four. Being the sort of person who'd rather be horrifyingly early than five minutes late, I was cool with this, hugged Kate, and went to check in with the calm serenity of one who is four hours early for their flight. Everything went without a hitch, including security, which was a glorious wasteland, free of congestion. Things were looking up.
Jeanne was already at the gate when I got there. "Wow, you're early," I said. She gave me a funny look.
"I'm two hours early for our flight," she replied.
"...what?" Apparently, I had been basing my internal flight time off the time we would be arriving in LAX for our transfer. Because sometimes, yes, I am very, very blonde. Coyote was clearly already getting involved in the trip; that's the first time I have ever made a mistake like that about flight times.
The first flight was relatively painless (I slept the whole way, which always helps), and our luggage was checked all the way through to Melbourne. So we located our gate, confirmed that there was no way for Qantas to shuffle things to seat us together, and then adjourned to the airport bar to make offerings to Coyote in the form of overpriced cocktails. Hooray for an excellent Mai Tai!
On the plane (a new Air Bus the size of an entire wing at my high school), we were seated literally sixty rows apart, so we bid each other a fond farewell and went to our respective homes for the next seventeen hours. Now, the nice thing about the Qantas Air Bus is the self-serve mini-bar between each section of the plane. They don't contain alcohol, thankfully, as an entire plane of drunk tourists would suck, but they do contain a nigh-infinite supply of Diet Coke. I drank a lot of Diet Coke. I also slept, a lot, and watched several movies, including Iron Man 2, which no one had been willing to see with me in the theater. Hooray for trans-Pacific flights!
Blah blah blah, time passes, blah blah blah, airplane food, blah blah, landing! In...Sydney. Because, see, Melbourne? Was enshrouded with fog, preventing us from landing, and after flying from California, we didn't have the fuel to circle. So we had to divert to another city altogether, which delighted the flight crew to no end. (It actually did delight the rest of my row, as they'd been going to Sydney, and were allowed to deplane. With their luggage. Lucky bastards.)
Eventually, we got back into the air, and were able to fly, finally, to Melbourne, where we had to go through Customs. First question on the card they make you fill out, no shit, was, "Are you carrying any weapons, illegal drugs, or prescription medications?" So the first question I was asked by the Australian Customs Agent was which of these things I had. I replied that I had legal medications. Also food. She sent me to Quarantine, while Jeanne went off to not be Quarantined.
At Quarantine, I was asked, "What kind of food are you carrying?"
Honesty is the best policy with Customs: "A pound of chocolates and five pounds of candy corn."
Blink. "What's candy corn?"
"Honey, mallow, and canuba wax."
"How much is five pounds?"
"I don't know. Two and a half kilos?"
She blinked again, and then waved to the door. "Just go."
Jeanne, meanwhile, was being poked and prodded to confirm that she wasn't secretly smuggling strawberries in her pants. The moral of our story is? Carry confusing candy.
Australia!
On Friday, August 27th, I left work to head for Kate's house, since she (and her wonderful car) was going to get me to the airport. My flight, I said, left at eight, so I needed to be there at six. I was quite confident on this point. There will be more on this later.
Even after driving to Concord, packing the last of my things, brushing the cats in a guilty "please don't hate me for leaving you" manner, and stopping at Sweet Tomatoes for dinner, we got me to the airport by four. Being the sort of person who'd rather be horrifyingly early than five minutes late, I was cool with this, hugged Kate, and went to check in with the calm serenity of one who is four hours early for their flight. Everything went without a hitch, including security, which was a glorious wasteland, free of congestion. Things were looking up.
Jeanne was already at the gate when I got there. "Wow, you're early," I said. She gave me a funny look.
"I'm two hours early for our flight," she replied.
"...what?" Apparently, I had been basing my internal flight time off the time we would be arriving in LAX for our transfer. Because sometimes, yes, I am very, very blonde. Coyote was clearly already getting involved in the trip; that's the first time I have ever made a mistake like that about flight times.
The first flight was relatively painless (I slept the whole way, which always helps), and our luggage was checked all the way through to Melbourne. So we located our gate, confirmed that there was no way for Qantas to shuffle things to seat us together, and then adjourned to the airport bar to make offerings to Coyote in the form of overpriced cocktails. Hooray for an excellent Mai Tai!
On the plane (a new Air Bus the size of an entire wing at my high school), we were seated literally sixty rows apart, so we bid each other a fond farewell and went to our respective homes for the next seventeen hours. Now, the nice thing about the Qantas Air Bus is the self-serve mini-bar between each section of the plane. They don't contain alcohol, thankfully, as an entire plane of drunk tourists would suck, but they do contain a nigh-infinite supply of Diet Coke. I drank a lot of Diet Coke. I also slept, a lot, and watched several movies, including Iron Man 2, which no one had been willing to see with me in the theater. Hooray for trans-Pacific flights!
Blah blah blah, time passes, blah blah blah, airplane food, blah blah, landing! In...Sydney. Because, see, Melbourne? Was enshrouded with fog, preventing us from landing, and after flying from California, we didn't have the fuel to circle. So we had to divert to another city altogether, which delighted the flight crew to no end. (It actually did delight the rest of my row, as they'd been going to Sydney, and were allowed to deplane. With their luggage. Lucky bastards.)
Eventually, we got back into the air, and were able to fly, finally, to Melbourne, where we had to go through Customs. First question on the card they make you fill out, no shit, was, "Are you carrying any weapons, illegal drugs, or prescription medications?" So the first question I was asked by the Australian Customs Agent was which of these things I had. I replied that I had legal medications. Also food. She sent me to Quarantine, while Jeanne went off to not be Quarantined.
At Quarantine, I was asked, "What kind of food are you carrying?"
Honesty is the best policy with Customs: "A pound of chocolates and five pounds of candy corn."
Blink. "What's candy corn?"
"Honey, mallow, and canuba wax."
"How much is five pounds?"
"I don't know. Two and a half kilos?"
She blinked again, and then waved to the door. "Just go."
Jeanne, meanwhile, was being poked and prodded to confirm that she wasn't secretly smuggling strawberries in her pants. The moral of our story is? Carry confusing candy.
Australia!
- Current Mood:
geeky - Current Music:Hairspray, "You Can't Stop the Beat."
Dear Lilly and Alice;
I love you more than I love just about anything else in the world, including candy corn and my My Little Pony collection, but seriously, if you wake me up at two in the morning to ask me to open the window one more time, you're going to be mittens. I can get new cats. Better cats. Cats that won't do that kind of shit.
Annoyed,
Your human.
*
Dear My Little Pony collection;
You're made of plastic. Please stop reproducing when you think I'm not looking. I am rapidly running out of shelf space. Last night, cleaning out the random accessory bin, I found complete sets of Pony Wear from 1982. This is becoming creepy. Cut it out.
Spooked,
Your collector.
*
Dear retail outlets of the world;
Halloween is my favorite holiday, and I really appreciate that you've noticed how stressed I am and are trying to take steps to reduce my unhappiness, but the fact that you're already putting out the Halloween decorations is a little bit disturbing. It's August. Since you're not selling Halloween-themed school supplies (which you totally should be), this seems a little unfair to the people heading back to class and just trying to find a cheap number two pencil.
I would really appreciate it if you'd go back to putting out the Halloween decorations in mid- to late-September, and then leave them up until, I don't know, Halloween. That way, the stores wouldn't suddenly be set for Thanksgiving while last-minute shoppers are trying to get their candy for trick-or-treat, and we might not have time for the Christmas music to make us actively homicidal before the end of the season.
Just a thought.
Respectfully,
Your customer.
*
Dear candy corn;
Om nom nom nom nom.
Nom,
Your consumer.
*
Dear Great Pumpkin;
O He who is in the patch down the street where they give hayrides in that sort of rickety-looking tractor, hallowed be thy name. May you be adored and adorned with candles, spooky faces, and, when the time is come for your death and resurrection, with graham cracker crust and sweet whipped cream. May you rise to walk the haunted corn mazes and the suburban streets, delighting the faithful and frightening the unbeliever with your fixed and luminous grin.
Great Pumpkin, I will write you more thoroughly later, but I just wanted to say, you da squash, thank you for the candy corn, and I hope to have an incredible, amazing time in Australia, where they have weird blue zombie pumpkins, which just reinforces my belief that it is, in fact, the promised land. Thank you for everything, Great Pumpkin.
Trick or treat,
Seanan.
I love you more than I love just about anything else in the world, including candy corn and my My Little Pony collection, but seriously, if you wake me up at two in the morning to ask me to open the window one more time, you're going to be mittens. I can get new cats. Better cats. Cats that won't do that kind of shit.
Annoyed,
Your human.
*
Dear My Little Pony collection;
You're made of plastic. Please stop reproducing when you think I'm not looking. I am rapidly running out of shelf space. Last night, cleaning out the random accessory bin, I found complete sets of Pony Wear from 1982. This is becoming creepy. Cut it out.
Spooked,
Your collector.
*
Dear retail outlets of the world;
Halloween is my favorite holiday, and I really appreciate that you've noticed how stressed I am and are trying to take steps to reduce my unhappiness, but the fact that you're already putting out the Halloween decorations is a little bit disturbing. It's August. Since you're not selling Halloween-themed school supplies (which you totally should be), this seems a little unfair to the people heading back to class and just trying to find a cheap number two pencil.
I would really appreciate it if you'd go back to putting out the Halloween decorations in mid- to late-September, and then leave them up until, I don't know, Halloween. That way, the stores wouldn't suddenly be set for Thanksgiving while last-minute shoppers are trying to get their candy for trick-or-treat, and we might not have time for the Christmas music to make us actively homicidal before the end of the season.
Just a thought.
Respectfully,
Your customer.
*
Dear candy corn;
Om nom nom nom nom.
Nom,
Your consumer.
*
Dear Great Pumpkin;
O He who is in the patch down the street where they give hayrides in that sort of rickety-looking tractor, hallowed be thy name. May you be adored and adorned with candles, spooky faces, and, when the time is come for your death and resurrection, with graham cracker crust and sweet whipped cream. May you rise to walk the haunted corn mazes and the suburban streets, delighting the faithful and frightening the unbeliever with your fixed and luminous grin.
Great Pumpkin, I will write you more thoroughly later, but I just wanted to say, you da squash, thank you for the candy corn, and I hope to have an incredible, amazing time in Australia, where they have weird blue zombie pumpkins, which just reinforces my belief that it is, in fact, the promised land. Thank you for everything, Great Pumpkin.
Trick or treat,
Seanan.
- Current Mood:
quixotic - Current Music:Glee, "My Life Would Suck Without You."
Saturday was my book launch party for Feed, kindly hosted by the wonderful crew at Borderlands Books. They're very tolerant of my particular brand of crazy, and I appreciate that, since I've been working with this brand for so long that I don't think I could make the switch to generic crazy even if I wanted to.
Brooke arrived Friday from Vancouver, and the plan was that my mother would pick up her, me, and Amy from my house sometime around ten, so that we would have time for a stop in Berkeley before heading into San Francisco. Mom actually arrived around eleven, as she had needed to go pick up the van that we were using to haul everyone around for the day; I allowed that this was, perhaps, an acceptable delay. We encountered more delays, in the form of "picking up Mom's friend Sydney" and "stopping so Brooke could sit on the curb until she stopped feeling like she was going to throw up," and then we were on our way.
First stop: Berkeley, where we visited the Bone Room (lots of exciting dead things for Brooke to coo over!) and collected Kate, who was going to be accompanying us for the rest of the day. Kate, being exceptionally clever, brought her iPad, complete with pre-loaded Plants vs. Zombies. So I played Plants vs. Zombies all the way to San Francisco, and PS, now I want an iPad. All hail Kate.
Second stop: Ghirardelli Square, one of those San Francisco institutions and tourist flytraps that everybody needs to visit at least once, if only to see the fountain with the copper mermaids force-feeding frogs to their horrified babies (no, really). Amy, Kate, and I wound up being the ones to place our order, which meant that we got to choose all the flavors of ice cream for our Earthquake. FEAR OUR POWER. Expert table-sharking netted us a nice table near an epically loud cluster of Girl Scouts, and we settled to await our ice cream.
The thing about the Earthquake is that it's one of those sundaes that comes with eight spoons and really means it. It takes two people to bring it to your table. When the Earthquake arrived, a moment of hushed silence fell, all of us just staring at the enormous mound of dairy goodness in front of us. And then we attacked, like starving hyenas at the waterhole. Only whipped cream and memories remained by the time our spoons dropped from our sugar-numbed fingers, because that is how you start a book release party.
Third stop: Cups and Cakes, to pick up the eight dozen mini cupcakes ordered for the event. The brain cupcakes looked amazing. So amazing, in fact, that I forgot I was supposed to be getting cotton candy cupcakes in the variety pack—whoops. It turned out not to matter, as the cupcakes I did get were utterly destroyed over the course of the evening. All hail sugar, all mourn for my fallen diet.
Fourth stop: Borderlands at last. We got there literally four minutes before we were supposed to arrive, which was cutting it pretty darn close, to find the store teeming with excited party-goers. All attempts to keep people out of the cupcakes failed, as they kept opening the boxes and snitching out cupcakes every time I turned my back, so we eventually just gave up and let the hordes descend. Rae brought RYMAN FOR PRESIDENT buttons, which were even more awesome than the cupcakes, and passed them out to the crowd.
After milling, I read the first chapter of Feed, and we had a fun, fast-paced discussion/Q&A session before another milling-and-cupcakes break. This was followed by my reading "Gimme a 'Z'!", since I didn't want to read chapter two, and we needed something else to amuse the crowd. Jude hadn't realized that I was serious when I said she was the new Squad Leader. Much amusement abounded. After that came another Q&A, and then we broke for the evening, leaving the bookstore in the same condition that we found it in.
Fifth stop: The Phoenix for dinner, before somebody got killed and eaten. I had lamb stew. My diet, so shot for the night.
Sixth stop: The airport, to send Amy back to Wisconsin.
Seventh stop: Kate's house, to return her to GP.
Eighth stop: Home, and bed.
I love book release night. Go Pumpkins!
Brooke arrived Friday from Vancouver, and the plan was that my mother would pick up her, me, and Amy from my house sometime around ten, so that we would have time for a stop in Berkeley before heading into San Francisco. Mom actually arrived around eleven, as she had needed to go pick up the van that we were using to haul everyone around for the day; I allowed that this was, perhaps, an acceptable delay. We encountered more delays, in the form of "picking up Mom's friend Sydney" and "stopping so Brooke could sit on the curb until she stopped feeling like she was going to throw up," and then we were on our way.
First stop: Berkeley, where we visited the Bone Room (lots of exciting dead things for Brooke to coo over!) and collected Kate, who was going to be accompanying us for the rest of the day. Kate, being exceptionally clever, brought her iPad, complete with pre-loaded Plants vs. Zombies. So I played Plants vs. Zombies all the way to San Francisco, and PS, now I want an iPad. All hail Kate.
Second stop: Ghirardelli Square, one of those San Francisco institutions and tourist flytraps that everybody needs to visit at least once, if only to see the fountain with the copper mermaids force-feeding frogs to their horrified babies (no, really). Amy, Kate, and I wound up being the ones to place our order, which meant that we got to choose all the flavors of ice cream for our Earthquake. FEAR OUR POWER. Expert table-sharking netted us a nice table near an epically loud cluster of Girl Scouts, and we settled to await our ice cream.
The thing about the Earthquake is that it's one of those sundaes that comes with eight spoons and really means it. It takes two people to bring it to your table. When the Earthquake arrived, a moment of hushed silence fell, all of us just staring at the enormous mound of dairy goodness in front of us. And then we attacked, like starving hyenas at the waterhole. Only whipped cream and memories remained by the time our spoons dropped from our sugar-numbed fingers, because that is how you start a book release party.
Third stop: Cups and Cakes, to pick up the eight dozen mini cupcakes ordered for the event. The brain cupcakes looked amazing. So amazing, in fact, that I forgot I was supposed to be getting cotton candy cupcakes in the variety pack—whoops. It turned out not to matter, as the cupcakes I did get were utterly destroyed over the course of the evening. All hail sugar, all mourn for my fallen diet.
Fourth stop: Borderlands at last. We got there literally four minutes before we were supposed to arrive, which was cutting it pretty darn close, to find the store teeming with excited party-goers. All attempts to keep people out of the cupcakes failed, as they kept opening the boxes and snitching out cupcakes every time I turned my back, so we eventually just gave up and let the hordes descend. Rae brought RYMAN FOR PRESIDENT buttons, which were even more awesome than the cupcakes, and passed them out to the crowd.
After milling, I read the first chapter of Feed, and we had a fun, fast-paced discussion/Q&A session before another milling-and-cupcakes break. This was followed by my reading "Gimme a 'Z'!", since I didn't want to read chapter two, and we needed something else to amuse the crowd. Jude hadn't realized that I was serious when I said she was the new Squad Leader. Much amusement abounded. After that came another Q&A, and then we broke for the evening, leaving the bookstore in the same condition that we found it in.
Fifth stop: The Phoenix for dinner, before somebody got killed and eaten. I had lamb stew. My diet, so shot for the night.
Sixth stop: The airport, to send Amy back to Wisconsin.
Seventh stop: Kate's house, to return her to GP.
Eighth stop: Home, and bed.
I love book release night. Go Pumpkins!
- Current Mood:
accomplished - Current Music:Glee, "Four Minutes."
Well, it's official; the spring is getting fully underway here in Northern California, aka 'one of those irritating places where the seasons are more of a formality than anything else.' How can I tell? For one thing, it's been raining off and on for the past four days. We need the rain. When we don't get the rain, we have a tendency to burst into flames, which is no fun for anybody. (It doesn't help that we've managed to transplant the noble eucalyptus from Australia and seed it all through the damn state. The actual meaning of the word 'eucalyptus' is 'tree that hates you and creates a fire hazard in order to make you die.' In Australia, even the flora yearns to hurt you.) That doesn't mean I enjoy taking my daily walks through vast fields of puddles.
Other signs of spring are springing up. The buses are crowded with people whose cars are in the shop -- a standard occurrence after the first serious rains of the year. Tourists are beginning to appear in increasingly-large flocks, looking dazed and confused when they're not greeted by a sunshiny city filled with happy people conducting musical numbers on the cable cars (yes, the movies can lie to you). Daffodils are sprouting in yards where they weren't even planted in the first place. And I just found the first bag of bunny corn at Safeway.
Bunny corn, for those of you who fail to share my obsession with honey-based confectionry, bunny corn is the springtime version of candy corn. It's made using the same candy base, and the same candy molds, but comes in a variety of pastel colors, rather than the more traditional orange-yellow-white. (They do something similar at Christmas, only then they call it 'reindeer corn.') Since I only really like fresh candy corn, this springtime sugar infusion is a vital part of my annual cycle. Groundhog sees his shadow, water starts pouring from the sky, I eat bunny corn, and all is right with the world.
I'm told that in other parts of the world, spring is a glorious bursting-forth of life and color and glory. Here in Northern California, spring is that season where you're up to your knees in mud, and bullfrogs from the overflowing stream out back are taking up housing in your front yard. (I actually really, really like that part. All hail the mighty bullfrog, almost big enough to eat a kitten.) It's a season of grays, browns, and blues, like a bruise that takes several months to heal over.
It's also a season of exciting things, from Wondercon (coming soon!) to Anton's new book (coming sooner!) and Ravens in the Library (coming soonest!). We may be bruised and battered, and we may look like drowned rats, but by all that is holy, we're gaining momentum!
Bunny corn?
Other signs of spring are springing up. The buses are crowded with people whose cars are in the shop -- a standard occurrence after the first serious rains of the year. Tourists are beginning to appear in increasingly-large flocks, looking dazed and confused when they're not greeted by a sunshiny city filled with happy people conducting musical numbers on the cable cars (yes, the movies can lie to you). Daffodils are sprouting in yards where they weren't even planted in the first place. And I just found the first bag of bunny corn at Safeway.
Bunny corn, for those of you who fail to share my obsession with honey-based confectionry, bunny corn is the springtime version of candy corn. It's made using the same candy base, and the same candy molds, but comes in a variety of pastel colors, rather than the more traditional orange-yellow-white. (They do something similar at Christmas, only then they call it 'reindeer corn.') Since I only really like fresh candy corn, this springtime sugar infusion is a vital part of my annual cycle. Groundhog sees his shadow, water starts pouring from the sky, I eat bunny corn, and all is right with the world.
I'm told that in other parts of the world, spring is a glorious bursting-forth of life and color and glory. Here in Northern California, spring is that season where you're up to your knees in mud, and bullfrogs from the overflowing stream out back are taking up housing in your front yard. (I actually really, really like that part. All hail the mighty bullfrog, almost big enough to eat a kitten.) It's a season of grays, browns, and blues, like a bruise that takes several months to heal over.
It's also a season of exciting things, from Wondercon (coming soon!) to Anton's new book (coming sooner!) and Ravens in the Library (coming soonest!). We may be bruised and battered, and we may look like drowned rats, but by all that is holy, we're gaining momentum!
Bunny corn?
- Current Mood:
wet - Current Music:Talis Kimberley, 'Still Catch the Tide.'
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