There wasn't a lot of work for me at the day job this week, so I had yesterday off. After a very scrapey dentist appointment in the morning, I worked on a story revision for an editor, and answered some queries for the new anthology. I also started gearing up for my interview with Daniel Wallace, and sent the first couple of questions today. (My interview with Zoran Živković should appear in the September 6 issue of Strange Horizons.) I also got a call from a lady the other evening who got my name from the NCSU English Dept., and wanted to know if I would help edit her book of short stories; I gave her my rate, and she said she'd get back to me. It's nice to be steeped in all things literary right now.

Around 3:00 yesterday, Janet and I were both antsy to get out of the apartment, so we made a trip to the Cary Public Library. She returned the three Terry Pratchett books she'd checked out, and got three more. (She read through three-quarters of the first one yesterday alone.) We drove around Cary for a bit, stopping at Java Jive to pick up some chocolate-covered espresso beans, taking a tour of the town hall area and train station. Then, she was in the mood to see some ducks, so I drove us over to Bond Park. We looked at the Compost Education Center (where the stream that had been flowing freely the last time I was there had dried up, and gotten overgrown with weeds), then walked over to Bond Lake. We sat at the small area near the pier where they had some wooden benches and watched the flocks of brown or white ducks paddling along, quacking at each other. A little girl on the opposite shore had brought a loaf of bread and the ducks hurried over to stand next to her and take some from her hand. She squealed every time a duck took a piece, and I prayed they wouldn't try to take a finger too, but the ducks were tame enough only to take the bread.

Janet and I sat there on the bench, holding each other and watching the ducks, and it was one of those perfect and peaceful moments in life, a little sliver of Heaven. The water calmly lapping on the shore, the slight breeze that made the warm day bearable, the quacking and honking, the group of fuzzy and flapping ducklings dutifully following their mother, the profusion of dragonflies flitting about us.

Eventually, we got up, walked back up the hill to the car, and came home. But I have the feeling we'll be going back again before the summer's over.

Now Reading:
The Watermelon King by Daniel Wallace

Stories Out to Publishers:
6

Books Read This Year:
36

Zines/Graphic Novels/Fiction Mags Read This Year:
24