It’s blazing hot, I have been eaten by mosquitos, and I have a cold. No sir, I don’t like it.
Well, to be fair, I don’t like the cold part — everything else is kind of really great. Summer feels like it ought to! There are fireflies and mosquitos and it’s so hot I have to lie in bed all day with the fan going and covering myself in baby powder!
Well, maybe not so much that last one — I’m in full Boat Girl mode and have been down the waterfront working on various goodies and getting covered in primer and interesting forms of filth, and generally being happy as a clam. I’m so glad I came home for a summer trip, because I’d missed this, truly. I am not sure if it is good or bad, though, that I am a pretty happy girl wherever I go, because I wind up missing wherever I am not. (Well, sort of — I’m pretty bad at object permanence, apparently, and am not missing Wales particularly. Did I mention that it’s only rained once, at night, since I got here? The 90% humidity during the day doesn’t count.)
Speaking of the City of Brotherly Love, I just got the proofs for Circlet Press’ Like a Veil Anthology, and was far too pleased to learn that of the four contributors, two of us are from or live in Philadelphia, and the third is from the same general area in the state. The fourth is about an hour and a half south (depending on traffic). BOOYAH. I fully expect to meet one or more of them at, like, Philly Folk Fest or something. (This also reminds me of something Isaac Asimov wrote, to the effect that the reason the NE area of the United States has produced so many great writers is because you have good weather for about 8 weeks of the year, tops, and the rest of the time it’s too miserable to do anything but stay inside and write.)
And while I’ve not stayed inside much, I am writing a lot, with one story in particular growing by leaps and bounds that makes me so, so happy. I’m trying to get as much writing in as I can before school starts again — it’s still not as much as I’d really like, but despite the weather, I am terrible at being disciplined. Oh well.
No column next week, darlings — I’ll be sailing northwards with a boat full of burlesque performers. No, I’m not kidding…