Shaken and Stirred
bond, gwenda bond

sunshine, happy days are here again
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Whew. That was a great day (and it's not over yet).

Bicycles are awesome, especially my new one, which we picked up last night after the rain finally stepped off, bitch, and the sun peeked out for us.

This morning, we got up around 8, bleary-eyed ourselves and George down to the Farmer's Market, still blissfully low-key this early in the season and that early in the a.m. We got tomatoes from Florida, fresh spinach, apples, seedless oranges, a basket of strawberries and fresh ears of corn. Our first successful farmer's market voyage of the year: spring is officially here. Oh, and I also got some beautiful, double-layered tulips from a lady who seemed like she hadn't been in contact with the outside world too often lately, and who informed us she had followed the local paper's advice columnist's throwaway tip about wrapping tulips in newspaper for 24 hours (I took the newsprint-free tulips, if you're wondering). But still -- 5 bucks for seven gorgeous tulips; you can't beat that.

Next week, I'm going to get one of the very cool little cactus gardens the all-cactii place had and put it on my desk.

Then, sufficiently armed, we had breakfast and proceeded to take our new bicycles on an 11 plus mile ride. It was the longest ride I'd ever been on, and it was -- for the most part -- pretty fucking great. Bicycles may equal pain (oh, the sore limbs), but still I felt like I saw parts of the city that I'd never seen before in a wholly different way than I'd have been able to otherwise. And we barely even got lost. The ride was excellent, and I'd take it again, even the stop for gourmet pita chips of god, if I didn't think I'd be too sore to move tomorrow.

After that we went to a mixer at a local literary institution, the Carnegie Center, for people interested in forming writer's groups. (Don't worry, the Zoetrope thing is very much still on, we just want a physical group as well.) We went in with the lowest possible expectations. We'd have been happy if it seemed worthwhile to try and maintain contact with one person -- and honestly, that was the best case scenario. Remarkably, there were at least five or six people who seemed simpatico and are amenable to doing a real writing group. So, we'll see how that goes. Workshops have really helped me in the past with screenwriting, so I'm excited to have rigorous and regular workshop options for fiction too (though this does not mean that I will stop bothering you and you and you to read stuff).

Anyway, good fun, and then some shopping for bicycle clothes and finally picking up the Locus with the picture of us, Justine and Scott in it. That chupacabra rocks. (THE JANE AUSTEN BOOK CLUB was on the shelves, so high thee to your local bookstore.)

Now, we're settling in for an evening of Firefly and slushing. The goal is to have a TOC for Say... by tomorrow evening. We may or it may be a few days, but you will definitely be hearing from us this week if we have a submission from you. Hold us to it.

I like days where I can feel productive without having written word one. (That was irony, maybe.)

Last night I pulled out about half the Oxford American music sampler CDs and listened to my favorites. I think the best year was 1998, with the pink and black cover. It has that great version of "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" by The Staple Singers (shivers, every time), "Ode to Billie Joe," Johnny Mercer's version of "Glow Worm," a Conlon Nancarrow tuen (my introduction to the bizarre world of Nancarrow as a matter of fact), and just a ton of other good songs. Not to say the other Oxford CDs aren't wonderful; they are. They really are, and I miss them. I miss the Oxford A, which seems to be dead again, after two issues I really, really liked. Good pieces, good short fiction. Sigh.

I also watched SHATTERED GLASS, the DVD player apparently just having needed a time out, our Netflix queue begins to move again. If you're interested in journalism or have ever worked in a news room or have a subscription to any sort of news or political journal, then I'd recommend it. Also, if you like stories about liars who are charming. (Not that I found him charming, even in the movie. Ewwww.) Good acting, solid movie. It didn't knock me flat, but it's a solid movie that joins the ranks of other classic journalism movies which also aren't perfect, like The Paper and Broadcast News.

I think that's it.

Good evennnnnng, as Count Dracula said.

worm: "Leaving Loachapoaka," Marshall Chapman

thingy/s to check out: BREAKING AWAY (the movie)

namecheck: Elvis "I Can't Believe The Times Fired You" Mitchell

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