Work is driving me mad at the moment, non-writing, non-family work. In that I am like ninety-plus percent of the planet. So complaints end here. After all, the writing and the family and, yes, all those people I call friends, add up to one weighty package of awesome. And it really has been a surprisingly good week.
First on the list: accolades! My Paris-gargoyle-suicide story, “Finding Your Way to the Coast” was selected by guest editor, Gina Oschner, for the fifth-anniversary, best-of issue of A cappella Zoo. Totally unexpected. I read the email in a local and crowded coffee shop and immediately yelled out various expletives. And, you know, I have no idea how the people sitting around me reacted.
Second on the list: the Small Beer podcast #16 is up. It’s me reading Kij Johnson’s short story, “The Empress Jingu Fishes.” I love reading out loud and this was a terrific story. I also love that I get to select what I’m able to record, within limits. I’m still working out the audio quality details of the podcast, but those near and dear swear it’s just my perfectionist streak showing up to ruin the party. I can spend a day, easily, in post-production. Instead, I’ve decided that more podcasts is better than perfect podcasts, so, for now at least, I’ve stopped fussing so much.
Third on the list: Yay! Running. Okay. Those two words do not go together, at least in my brain. My spouse and partner, Tom, he adores running. He counts the foxes and the wild turkeys and the bears he meets in the woods. He rescues turtles from the middle of the road. Once, he even rescued a blooming daffodil bulb from a construction site, running home with the bulb cupped upright in his palm. That bulb still flowers each spring in our front yard.
I just finished week two out of the eight week program. The last time I really trained was about a decade ago. Along with my hatred of the actual activity, I don’t have a runner’s body. I didn’t when I trained for that half-marathon either, but I still remember it being fun. I actually managed to reach my goal of running the Hartford Half. This time the goal is more modest. And Tom is busily tracking down a new pair of running shoes for me (mine are so old my right big toe can been seen sticking through). Though I’m not so sure I agree with his latest shoe suggestion…