Giant wolf spider in my office…
Also, I’m back in Seattle after a week in Southern California. Updates soon.
Update (about the spider, not SoCal):
The spider met its demise under Jonathan Lethem’s Men and Cartoons, specifically chosen over the equally handy Bullfinch’s Mythology and Women of Classical Mythology: a Biographical Dictionary because the spider was perched on a tissue box. A heavier book might have collapsed the corner of the box, allowing the spider to escape, possibly via my arm.
Mr. Lethem joins William Gibson in the ranks of effective spider smashers, Mr. Gibson having taken a wolf spider to the face of his author photo on the hardbound (and, fortunately, laminated) library copy of Pattern Recognition some eleven months earlier.
This is a fun way to burn a couple of hours doing story research.
Thoughts while watching War of the Worlds on cable last night:
Man, I hate it when aliens come here uninvited and wreck up the joint and then spray red Silly String all over the place. Not cool, aliens. Not cool.
Has anyone in the entire history of fermented agave ever thought, “Gosh, I sure wish I’d had more tequila last night!”?
I’m guessing no.
I dreamed that my city — not Seattle, but water-bound, large and glassy and more or less realistic — was in the path of gigantic rampaging anime characters. And even as I huddled in the interior bathroom of a high-rise apartment building, clutching a beat-up Pikachu keychain and believing this was all somehow my fault, I thought, “This is so derivative.”
I just finished reading Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Zowie. I wish I’d read it back in 2000. I’d have re-read it six times by now.
I finally saw Superman Returns, and I can recommend, if the topic of conversation goes to the various incarnations of the Man of Steel, that you not state loudly and emphatically that “Tom Welling is soooooo pretty. Distractingly so. What’s he saying? What’s he doing? Can he act? Don’t know, don’t care: he’s soooooo pretty!” just in case he turns out to be your housemate’s sister’s fiance’s former roommate’s brother. ‘Cause such a thing would be, you know, mildly embarrassing.
A couple of weeks ago I went on vacation. I spent part of it having adventures locally (fishing in Puget Sound), and part of it having adventures less locally (hiking up Mt. Constitution on Orcas Island).
I should explain that going fishing was a Big Freaking Deal because I’ve never done it before, unless you count scooping up pond guppies in a mason jar. But guppies aren’t good eatin’. Salmon, however is. Good, good good. That’s one “good” for every salmon I caught. A note for folks who know the limit is two: Cap’n Steve and his assistant let us fish their quota, then split the catch up with the folks on the charter. That means P & I and brought home 6 lovely and delicious salmon, two of which were consumed that very evening in extra-nifty company.