August 3rd, 2006

good mris pic

The teraphim speak up.

The post from my ToCmate swan_tower reminded me that the new issue of Aberrant Dreams is up, with my story Silent Teraphim right there in it.

I tried to write three or four different disclaimers, but the truth I have to say here is: it's a story. It is a fantasy story. It is not attempting to convert anyone to any kind of theism, any more than Sampo is meant to make you go digging under hills in northern Finland or Dwarf's Blood Mead is to convince you that you ought to cut people to bits for Odin. (People who have read DBM are now snickering up their sleeves at the very thought.)

And it's also actually got a love story. Written by me. With a love story in it. That I wrote.

I am at least as confused as you are, I assure you.

Wheee, health

Mistyping of the day (so far): Janet's best friend Angela in The True Tale of Carter Hall does not actually have clear, light brown eyes between chic geometric spectacles. Probably they are behind the spectacles, as both eyes and spectacles do tend to function better that way. Also the chic spectacles look more chic.

Ista and I walked to her vet appointment, which went fine -- she didn't even whimper when Dr. Megan poked her with her vaccines -- and now she is splayed out at the top of the stairs. And I -- o wonder of wonders -- am not splayed at all. Even though I walked her earlier this morning, and worked out before that, and heaven knows what I'll find to get up to later, and I don't even expect that I will spend tomorrow paying for today's energy.

This last month has been filled with me marveling at feeling decent, and this is exactly the sort of thing I mean. I know that some of you in your natural state are not up for two walks and a workout in a day, that it is not a reasonable thing to expect of your bodies. I'm not saying this is some kind of human universal. I'm just saying that up until a little over a year ago, I was an extremely high-energy person, and now I am again, and I am so very grateful for it. We had no guarantee that they would figure out what was wrong with me, much less that it could be fixed. Even in June, I spent half the month crashing to the ground every other time I got up. And now I have the urge to do handstands again. I've had the urge to do handstands off and on throughout my adult life, except for the year I was 27. I think I will go braid my hair as soon as I'm done with this scene so I can find a nice place to do handstands and not kill myself getting tangled in it.

It's so nice to be able to write a little in the afternoon because I am not a zombie, and to have the days when it's not going well due to brain malfunction rather than physical collapse. Whee, health! and so on.

(Also, why does Boiled in Lead make my dog bark? No other band makes my dog bark. It's very strange.)