2. Shut Up, Bob Costas! This is my rallying cry for every Olympics. I love the Olympics, even the Thawed Olympics. In the Real Olympics, I like hockey, which I can watch all the time, as well as the things I can't watch all the time. In the Thawed Olympics, I don't want to watch baseball or basketball or soccer. I want kayaking. I want dressage. I want fencing. I want the weird little short-track cycling thing. And I want it all sort of jumbled together, where you watch a foil match and then switch to water polo and then shooting right after that. Also I want them to stop showing President Bush. He is on television for being PotUSA every day of the year. The alternate-made-good only totally nails a beautiful pommel horse routine* a couple of times every four years, so shove over, dude, and let somebody else's mug on camera for a minute or two. And camerabeings, for heaven's sake, this is at least as much your fault.
3. I should probably read some other fun poet very soon, or else everything is going to have W. H. Auden epigraphs for months and years after this. Sprawling on the couch feeling vertiginous with W. H. Auden (poems, but the prose is in my future) is way better than without.
4. Ista thinks that a few degrees' cooling in August means a great deal more snuggling of the poodle. Oh noes. Oh the horror.
5. Someone made a comment that made me think I had perhaps not been clear: I will not be going to World Fantasy Con this year. It would be awesome in more than one way, I feel sure -- seeing friends in town as well as at the con -- but I am not getting un-vertiginous enough to plan a lot of trips, and the one to Montreal at the end of this month is going to be it for the foreseeable future. And that one will probably be hard enough. So. No Calgary for me. Sorry, folks. Another year.
*I don't even like pommel horse, but damn.