I felt it was time to go back, and [...]]]> So, last week I started in studying taijiquan again, after a hiatus of years. I went back to Lotus Dragon Authentic Chinese Tai Chi, where I started studying almost exactly ten years ago with Sifu Dug Corpolongo (although the school was called something else back in 2002.)

I felt it was time to go back, and it was. Sifu Dug’s a great guy, and his students and instructors are lovely people. Very congenial place – and I had forgotten just how excellent a teacher Dug is.

And … nothing says thanks for taking me back as a starting over student like disrupting class and making a complete dork of myself.

It was, at the very least, inadvertent. I didn’t fall through the mirror or make inappropriate jokes (or too many.)

Tonight I wore some suave new sweatpants to class for the first time, since my cargo pants with suspenders, while excellent in their own right, did not a salubrious martial arts practice outfit make. Since I was planning on going somewhere immediately after class (SPOILER ALERT: I didn’t make it) I brought a bag with my street clothes rolled inside. Including of course my cargo pants (with suspenders.)

Right before Laoshir (instructor) Ken started us on warm-ups I realized I still had my keys in my pocket – these sweats are so suave they actually have pockets. So I took them out and stuck ‘em in my moccasins, where I also stashed my wallet and asthma inhaler.

After class, as the advanced class was starting, I bade everyone good night and went off to change in the bathroom.

And I could not find my keys.

I started looking everywhere, with increasing franticosity*. No keys. Checked the cubby where I’d stashed my stuff. Checked the cubbies under it. Checked the bathrooms I’d used to change in – the latter to wash my hands in, since the sink in the one I actually changed in had a little Ganesha statue in it, on top of what I can only describe as … apparent colorful Asian stone dildos, and it seemed disrespectful, not to mention possibly unwise, to wash my hands on top of them.)

During the course of this searching frenzy naturally some of the senior students wondered what was wrong. I told them. They asked if I thought to check the multifarious pockets of the aforementioned cargo pants. Three times. They asked if I had searched the equally many pockets of the soft-sided briefcase I was using in lieu of a gym bag. Indeed: three times. They asked if I might have left them in the car. I said I could swear I had noticed I had them in my pocket and stuck them in my shoe. Had I checked my shoes? they asked. I said yes, when I’d retrieved my wallet and inhaler. And the keys weren’t subtle; surely I’d feel them if I had left them in the shoes with my damn feet.

I checked with the hairdresser who worked at the place that hosts the kuan – which I’d be happy to name and give a free plug to, had  I only been able to resist the “Asian dildo” crack up there – and the lady she was working on, who were highly sympathetic and understanding but no, hadn’t found any keys.

Just to make sure, I went out to the car. It was cold. Did I mention I’d wisely decided to leave my coat in the car, so as not to have to stuff it in a cubbyhole as well? That.

It was cold.

Also, no car keys. Shining my pocket flashlight (yes, I’m a nerd; this surprises you?) inside I was unable to see them still in the ignition, say, or lying on the floor.

Went back inside, where I was by now pretty sure my keys weren’t, but where it was warm. To find that Sifu Dug aand the students had been searching – all through the … whatever you call a whole thing like a bookcase that’s filled with cubbyholes. And also behind … that thing. They had found no keys either.

So at this point I was about profoundly screwed. I couldn’t make it home without my keys. Nor to the place I was going to go afterwards (yeah, you already know I didn’t make it.) Also I’d left my regular bag with my netbook locked safely in the trunk. Where I couldn’t retrieve it, without my keys.

But that wasn’t the real problem. I could get a ride. If only I could, you know. Get in my house.

And aside from the sleeping in the street thing – I could probably cadge a place to stay, too; I have wonderful friends, as I think you’ve gathered, and possibly are one – there was the Emma Dog issue. Emma of the large but not infinite bladder capacity. Emma who was expecting Daddy to come feed her eventually.

One of the students (possibly a senior student) named Bill asked if it would help if I could get in the car. yes, I said; aside from the distant chance I had left them inside and they were out of easy sight, I could at least get my damn coat. So he kindly called AAA to come and open the puppy up.

Fortunately, some of my friends retain spare keys to my house. Fortunately Kathy and Steve Kubica, who are such friends, were home when I called. Yes, they would come and get me and let me into my house if I couldn’t find my keys.

So I went and sat quietly by the … cubbyhole thing … and tried not to broadcast too many negative waves, screw up everybody’s qi.  Anyway, since Kathy had agreed to get me and let me in, that was a huge load off my mind.

I decided to check all those God-damned pockets all over again. Still no keys. So I decided I might as well check the shoes. I mean, I knew the keys couldn’t possibly be inside them still. But still – they were the last place I was fairly sure they’d been.

Took off the left moccasin and shook it. Nada. Took off the right one and shook it.

The keys dropped right into my damn hand.

Apparently I made some kind of noise. Everybody stopped doing the form and looked at me. Sheepishly, I held up my keys.

“Sorry?”

So after I apologized like a kajillion more times, and thanked everybody almost as much, I decided to come straight home. I was done. I’d had a full day already. Which was a good thing, up until our story began. And it turns out that screwing up takes way more energy than many more obviously energetic forms of not screwing up.

So … what did you do that made you feel like a complete halfwit today?

*”Franticosity” is not actually a word. I just made it up. I am a professional. Do not try this at home. Or if you do, at least please try to come up with a better word than “franticosity.” .

A Very TJ Christmas

Merry Christmas Eve, everybody! And also Christmas.

So my Wild-Caught Christmas Tree is all up and decorated and everything. You can see what TJ Cat thought of it (Emma Dog stayed dubious about it for rather longer. Squeak Kitty was like, “Whatever.”) [...]]]> Yes, it’s my favorite day of the year! And it’s here.

A Very TJ Christmas

Merry Christmas Eve, everybody! And also Christmas.

So my Wild-Caught Christmas Tree is all up and decorated and everything. You can see what TJ Cat thought of it (Emma Dog stayed dubious about it for rather longer. Squeak Kitty was like, “Whatever.”) To see the whole before-and-after saga, please visit my Flickr set on the subject.

Also shown in the set: new bird ornaments! Since I was a kid I’ve had a family tradition of getting a new bird ornament for Christmas each year. Since I missed a few years recently – and in honor of my Wild-Caught Christmas Tree – I got two.

The one on the left (a little hard to make out; sorry) represents the birder’s nightmare: the bird you’re trying to photograph perching on your camera.

On an unrelated subject, you can view a set from an amusing incident from yesterday’s trip to walk with Emma by the Rio Grande Nature Center. As usual I parked on a little side street to the east of the Center proper, along the south side of what I think is actually called the Candelaria Farms Wildfowl Preserve, which is attached to the RGNC. As I got out of the car, a bunch of Sandhill cranes promptly came walking toward us. Apparently they thought I was going to throw them treats.

Sadly, they were disappointed. I had no corn.

As I put my camera away a gaggle of Canada geese came waddling up. I prudently withdrew before they all turned into an angry, feathered mob. So for your viewing pleasure (and a bonus holiday treat) I present The Optimistic Cranes.

So:   tree achieved. Gifts wrapped (and some even distributed!) Now to savor my favor day,

Got a mess of baking today for tomorrow – want to try my low-sugar pumpkin pie recipe with a new starch-free crust, and a brand-new attempt to adapt an eggnog cheesecake recipe, using my old standby crushed-pecan crust! Also I’m going to use my new (and somewhat pricey) coconut flour to try making biscuits. Finally, I think I’ll roast some pumpkin seeds, some with green chile and garlic powder, and maybe do some with curry.

Also some writing (of course!) And maybe some video games.

Then an early Christmas Eve dinner, and off for my annual Old Town walking light tour with my best friend Joe!

So, busy. Best get that way!

Merry Christmas to all.  And as always – thanks for reading!

And I’ve finished my shopping! And have most of the presents on hand.  Now all I have to do is gift-wrap ‘em.

Thanks to the kindness of my friends Dan and Ruth Blair, [...]]]> Christmas season, it’s hardly any secret, is my favorite time of the year. And Christmas Eve is my favorite day of all.

And I’ve finished my shopping! And have most of the presents on hand.  Now all I have to do is gift-wrap ‘em.

Thanks to the kindness of my friends Dan and Ruth Blair, down Mexico way, I even have a package of my own! It comes wrapped in a festive blue sack, with a major golden ribbon. Impressive.

Soon I’ll even have a tree to put it under – my very first wild-caught one. Thanks to Harriet Engle, whose answer to my Christmas tree dilemma I decided to follow, and Tom Sittler.

So it all comes together. I even got in a bit of a Christmas-light cruise tonight. I hope to do many more – although it freaks me out a little bit how little time is left until actual Christmas.

Well, I plan to make the most of it. Hope you do too.

Socializing with my friends is a big part of the season’s joy for me. I have a fair amount of that lined up. And I hope to get in plenty more.

While I don’t expect Christmas presents, I admit I much enjoy receiving as well as giving. Which applies to other things as well, which since this is a family-friendly blog (kinda, sorta) we’ll gloss right over….  So, anyway, should you feel inclined to get me something, you can find my Amazon Wish List here.

And keep watching the skies, or at least this blog, for some hot dinosaur-related updates. The Big Rewrite of The Dinosaur Lords proceeds; I’m itching to get this done so I can start writing the next one!

Have a wonderful holiday season, everybody!

And as always – thanks for reading!

Discuss, please. Here in the Comments, or on Facebook or Twitter.

One way I try to accomplish getting out of my own way – which is working, [...]]]> I am toying with the notion that my most important, and hardest, job as a writer (and perhaps in life as a whole) is getting out of my own way.

Discuss, please. Here in the Comments, or on Facebook or Twitter.

One way I try to accomplish getting out of my own way – which is working, though gradually, as like any habit it takes time to instill – is breaking down the necessities of a good, effective, pleasurable, and full life (to me, different aspects of the same thing) into Five Elements:

1. Making.
2. Play.
3. Socializing
4. Exercise.
5. Maintenance.

Yeah, I like numbered lists. And the number five appeals to me. Because it does.

I consider these elements as actions I can take. They are, as I said, necessary for a full – therefore good – day.

I also am working hard to instill the habit of only allowing myself to do things that fall into one or more of those categories.

There are other ways I use to phrase the same elements to myself, when I remind myself of them. Making can also come out as Creating or, yes, as Work – since the work I get paid for is those other things. Play is also Pleasure, or even Fun. And Exercise encompasses both physical exercise, such as walking with the beloved Emma Dog on the ditch, and meditation – spiritual and mental exercise. As most delightfully and effectively accomplished, I find, walking with the beloved Emma Dog on the ditch.

My main ground rule about the Five Elements is not to get wrapped around the axle – or more appropriately: not get in my own way! – about definitions. Or about what belongs where.

For a long time – largely because I was trained in that along with many self-negating habits, and because it’s the easy, obvious explanation – I thought I had trouble performing up to my potential because I was lazy. But eventually it struck me that lazy people don’t write – and sell, and publish – 100 novels. Which, más o menos, I have.

(And yes, my above-linked Bibliography sorely wants updating. I just have higher priorities; sorries.)

Eventually I discovered the truth: I’m a perfectionist. And if I let myself, I will talk myself out of doing … well, almost anything I need/want to do.  Because I convince myself I can never possibly do it well enough.

Yes, I know it’s irrational. It’s a habit.

A habit that has a particularly pernicious application to my trying to categorize or organize anything. Again if I allow myself, I’ll get so involved in ever-descending minuteness of detail, and so obsessed with trying to fit every damn quantum into its right and proper pigeonhole, that eventually I break down in frustration because I, well, can’t.

No one can. Because perfection, while a laudable longest-term goal – pursuit of which I joyously anticipate will keep me fresh in my craft as long as I’m able to do it – is not actually attainable in the real world.

So what I do when trying to figure out which of the Five Elements a given activity falls into … I punt. I remind myself: who cares? Most important; why should I?

Writing – which is my day job (you knew that, yes?) – is, no shit, Work. Yet when I do it right – when I Let Go, Let Leo – get out of my own way – it gives me the most pleasure of anything I do. It is, palpably, Play. And also, because what’s entailed in the Letting Go, Letting Leo thing, a definite spiritual Exercise. And since, of course, if I don’t do it, I don’t get paid, and neither do the dog-food merchants nor the mortgage company nor the power companies, it’s manifest Maintenance.

I could no doubt gyrate it into Socializing, somehow. If I had more time and energy than I do to devote to this (unpaid*) piece. I’m flexible, that way. But you get the point, yes?

Which is: that’s all fine. I refuse to try to stick any activity into a given pigeonhole. Nor try to define the Elements in exclusive terms, so that an activity must and can belong to only one.

The key things are: I must do something – possibly many things – from each category each and every day. And I must only allow myself to do things that sensibly fall into one or more category. Which is, of course, the hard part.

As always, when I toss these tidbits out, I’m telling you what works or has worked for me – and when, and to the extent, I follow the Five Elements, I indeed lead a fuller, more productive, hence more joyous life – in hopes that they might work for you. I cannot promise you they will work for you – because the Second Iron Law of Writing is that One Size Never Fits All. They won’t likely cost you much – as in, nothing – and I doubt they’ll do you any harm to try. (Though no warranties: proceed at own risk!)

I will mention that I know the aforementioned Five Words and Let Go, Let Leo work and have worked for other people, and not just in writing but in other areas of life, because people have told me they do. They, as well as others they have passed the tools along to – for that’s what concepts and techniques like these are – have tried them and found them useful.

Like all tools, they don’t suit every person, nor every purpose. They’re meant to be tried, and used as one finds helpful. And if that includes simply discarding them – well, that’s cool too. It’s part of the plan.

So I submit the concept of the Five Elements for your consideration. As well as the Elements (Work, Pleasure, Socializing, Exercise, Maintenance) themselves. Feel free to mix’n'match, or define your own Elements: what actions are necessary to live what you define as a good day.

May they bring you joy and success, however you define those things.

And if they don’t serve you, forget ‘em! Or stick them back in the toolbox for a later time at which they might merit another try.

I want everyone to be happy and rich so they are fun to be around and can buy my stuff. That’s how I define my selfishness.

And by everyone I especially mean you – my beloved friends, fans, and readers.

And as always – thanks for reading!

*Pop quiz time: Writing blog posts such as this falls obviously, to me, into at least two of the Elements, maybe more. Can you spot them? Remember, if there’s a plausible argument why an action should fit, it does!

Then again, any day you can walk away from is a good day. And I quite thankfully have.

It started on less than four hours’ sleep and a trip to an 8 AM doctor’s appointment. To discover the doctor wasn’t in, but was off having knee surgery (understandable, granted.) And [...]]]> So yesterday sure went in the tank.

Then again, any day you can walk away from is a good day. And I quite thankfully have.

It started on less than four hours’ sleep and a trip to an 8 AM doctor’s appointment. To discover the doctor wasn’t in, but was off having knee surgery (understandable, granted.) And despite what the receptionists claimed, of course no one called me. I did get a new appointment, which for a miracle wasn’t in the early (to me) morning. But still: a waste, and left me tired and on my back foot all day.

Out buying supplies at Wally World after a nap, my Dollar Store reading glasses, which made me look like Gordon Freeman, busted right across the nose-piece. At least these actually cost $1 – the last pair I got at a “dollar” store set me back $6, so adjust your BS meter on those “stupid customers asking the price at the dollar store” stories accordingly. Fortunately this was easily remedied: I went straightaway and found an $8 pair in a style I like better. Then again, the $1 pair, aside from causing me to look like a wannabe hipster – that may be one of the saddest phrases I’ve ever written – lasted like 3 weeks. So, not that bad a price.

As I got ready  to leave the Costco lot  later I noticed the battery light was on in the car.  Which is weird since I don’t recall seeing it before – even when the old battery was, you know, dying in July.  Shrugged it off, and anyway it went out when I drove home.

I came back out pretty promptly to take Emma Dog for a walk – didn’t want to decide I was too tired and snivel – and the car balked on starting.  This time the low-battery light stayed on a spell.  I suspected I might have trouble starting the car for the trip home.

Correctly, as it happened.

To my great credit, I did not obsess about as we walked – or even think about it much, much less worry.  Which is a huge change for me and represents an uptick in progress, I think.  Now, whether I should’ve thought of saying fuck it, leaving the car home, and walking Emma in the neighborhood … different issue.

It was a lovely late afternoon for a walk.  Must’ve been something really interesting pass through there last night:  not only did Emma spend an inordinate amount of time smelling certain spots, and was unusually avid to sniff (even for her), but two other dog owners made humorous remarks about how much their dogs were sniffing.

Saw the usual cranes and geese.  Oh my.

So, got back to the car, a bit after sunset, and … yep.  Dead.  Clearly low battery.  WTF? thought I. It’s a new damn battery.

But well and truly stuck were we, regardless. And in need of rescue. Kathy Kubica didn’t answer her phone.  Larry Hays did but was heading to aikido class and in no position to come help – fair enough, especially inasmuch as he’s helped me plenty already, many times.

James Wilson didn’t answer either.  But called me right back.  Oh, and did I mention my cell phone battery was low, too?

Anyway he agreed to come help.  He was at work, it turned out.  I told him where to find me, then to help him do so went and sat down on Candelaria and Greenwood (which is the street we turn down to go walk on Bear’s Ditch.)

He turned up, gave me a jump.  And while he did so I went for the trifecta:  my pocket LED flashlight totally died as I was illuminating our activities.  Off he went.  Off I went.

For … a while.  Then shit started going south in a hurry.

I noticed the battery light kept coming on.  When stopped at the light at Rio Grande Boulevard I put it in neutral and gunned the engine in hopes of charging the battery.

Then going north on RGB I noticed the dashboard lights were going dim.  So, I realized, were the headlights (and inferentially, the taillights.) By the time I turned on Griegos I was running completely dark.

It was dark; people kept helpfully flashing me to turn on my lights.  People, they were on.

And then, a few hundred yards short of the 12^th Street light, the fucker just died.  I coasted to a stop.  Tried pushing, but found that, while I could move the car, I couldn’t do that and steer. Problem.

Called James again.  Fortunately, he kindly agreed to turn around and come jump the car again.  I gave him directions.

Waited.  Waited.  Some power came back, which helped – enough to run the emergency flashers and lower the chance some escaped doorknob would rear-end us.  I sat in the car with Emma and eventually called again.  Yup, my (necessarily cursory) directions had got him lost.  But he claimed he was on Griegos by 6^th heading west.  Even claimed, after a moment, to see the traffic light at 12^th.

Apparently he did, because in fact he did arrive promptly.  Jumped me again.  Left the cars hooked for a bit to recharge the battery.  He explained the alternator must be shot and the car was running purely on battery power. Joy.

So after a brief alarum when I accidentally (and unnoticedly) disconnected the battery cable along with the jumpers, so that we had to go through the whole rigamarole again, we got going once more.  James had agreed to follow me home.  (I had long since promised to buy him dinner.)

Good he did follow.  Had to stop at the light at 12^th, where I revved the engine again, just in hopes – the low-battery light did go out.  For what that was worth.

Which was apparently nothing.  Guess where the car died on me again?

Yep:  at the light at motherfucking 4^th Street.

Now at least it was no longer rush hour.  That was the good news.  But it was still busy. Less good.

James offered to push and let me steer.  Fine.  I did have to dissuade him from going ahead and pushing me out into cross-traffic against a red light, which would have been … exciting.

So we got across.  Dumped it a few car lengths down, before the Bank of the Week there’s drive-through exit.  He went back and brought his car – while morons zipping around the corner from 4^th without looking almost plowed into me.  While we were thus happily engaged Kathy got back to me – her ringer had been off. Thanked her and told her I couldn’t talk right then. James finished jumping me for the third time, then backed into the car wash as I bolted for home.

Turned down 3^rd to get the fuck off Griegos at all costs.  Car started seriously dying before I reached Bellrose.  But I ran the stop sign there and at Jupiter (after looking first both times, just on the roll) and fucking went for it.  Tried gunning the engine just before I got home – wanted to park on the street; cars there – and got one last rumble of response.

Pulled into the fucking driveway and stopped just as the fucking car died again.  And threw up both arms in the touchdown sign!  Score!

James offered to take me with him to Twin Peaks for Victoria’s Secret Lingerie Night.  Tempted* – coulda bought him his well-earned dinner then – but too tired.  As I told Larry I was when he offered to pick me up around 10 for dinner (I let Kathy know I was fine; he texted me after aikido) after he had a preliminary dance class at Arthur Murray.  Which I’m glad I didn’t also sign up for.

So, well, fuck.  Marshall A Willis on FB said alternators were fairly easy to fix and I could probably find a friend to do it.  And I even have a friend in mind.

The alternative, as it were: I’ve been intending to buy a new (used) car soon, inasmuch as the Taurus is not really reliable.  Even before this.  Thus I am torn between repairing it or just pulling the trigger and going for the new car.  Which would however be a mighty pain – on a crash basis and without a, you know.  Car to drive around and look.  We shall see what turns up.

Whine, snivel, moan.

So, yeah, yesterday got away from me. Big time. It was a setback. But as setbacks go, no more than a pain in the ass, however large a one.

And anyway … nothing broke. (Well, other than my FREAKING CAR.) My friends came through for me once more, as my friends always do, and I try to do for them (thanks again, James!) Emma comported herself nobly, sitting calmly throughout the whole fandango, which was just what I needed her to do. I’m well. We’re all well.

As I reminded myself:  discouragement sucks and is counterproductive. And overall, Life is Good. Very good indeed.

Speaking of good – Emma conducted herself nobly throughout the whole adventure.  Granted, that consisted pretty wholly of sitting calmly and looking noble, at which she excels (though not the level of TJ Cat.) But still – better than hopping around and being a pain.  Emma is a Very Good Dog, indeed.

*That is, of course, the only reason I’d be tempted to go to anything called Victoria’s Secret Lingerie Night at a place called Twin Peaks.

HAHAHAHA! You’ve met me, right? As my friend Adam Brown likes to say.

High. On, yes, a new thing.

The little health embarrassment – that minor unable to breathe thing, you know – has cleared up muchly thanks to, well, drugs. Plus clean living, I suppose, but its not as if that’s all [...]]]> So it’s been a bit of a rough ride. Sorry to’ve slipped out of touch.

High. On, yes, a new thing.

The little health embarrassment – that minor unable to breathe thing, you know – has cleared up muchly thanks to, well, drugs. Plus clean living, I suppose, but its not as if that’s all voluntary.

In there just make things interesting I caught a stomach bug. That cleared up too. My weight then took an alarming upward turn, which may or may not have had anything to do with the meds – although I have not changed the eating and exercise habits that have kept me slowly but surely losing weight since I got home from my trifling misadventure a year and a half ago. Although admittedly I let the exercise slip some – again, surprising how problematic not being able to breathe (or sleep) makes that. Then again the weight uptick happened after I’d started exercising more, so who knows?

Anyway, the weight has now, at least for today, dropped back to … less unsatisfactory levels. (Mind you we’re talking about a total swing of about seven pounds, which is still radical enough to rattle my cage, since I’m used to no more than maybe three pounds up after setting a new low.)

Also, what with this thing and that thing, I’ve let myself get behind in the writing. Of which I’ve a mess to write. And, uh, well, rewrite.

And, as with the walking (with Emma Dog, of course!), and the kettlebell swings, I’m finally picking back up on the writing. Yay.

So, after all that preamble, back to the titular New Thing on which I am professedly High.

Not drugs; I don’t do recreational chemicals beyond what you find in a cup o hot chocolate, and that sugar free. And while they are controlled, or at least prescription only (for reasons, most likely, having far more to do with other people’s finances than our health), the drugs I am on are not particularly entertaining.

Nope, it’s the latest version of what’s already become a low-starch standby for me: this flaxseed “foccacia” bread. As I mentioned earlier, it’s a tad bland, but it’s still pretty successfully bread-like. Recently my good friend Roslee Orndorff gave me a bag of almond flour to try out – it’s also low-starch (and low-sugar), being just ground-up almonds, and hence low glycemic load.

The “fauxccacia” recipe calls for two cups of ground flaxseed. So I subbed half a cup of the almond flour for half a cup of that. I did not get to try it when it was nice and hot, but had some yesterday, both regular and toasted.

And … it’s pretty good. has a bit more flavor – bit more body, maybe. Also feels a little less gritty. Now, it has a bit of a nasty, cheesy smell when it’s actually toasting – the straight flax bread doesn’t smell all that fantastic, either. But it tastes good. Better than the more-than-acceptable original.

So, great! Got a new weapon in my low-GL arsenal! The craving for breads is a tough one to get past. And bread-like foods are good for, um, leavening the slightly stark meat-and-veggies regimen I follow.

(And, yes. That is what I’m high about. A new, improved bread substitute. And yes, I have … modest standards for getting high.  Deal.)

Meanwhile, I need to get back to writing I, you know, get paid for. There are also some subsidiary things to do that will in the fullness of time show up here on the blog.

Such as, I am contractually required to produce a map for The Dinosaur Lords. And I am actually mastering my Campaign Cartographer 3 (CC3) software to the extent of finally being in process of converting my crude sketch of the Tyrant’s Head and the Empire of Nuevaropa into something legible. As well as digital, hence transmissible.

So you can expect to catch that soon.

Also, expect to see further installments of my handy and informative An Adventurer’s Guide to the Dinosaurs of Paradise, which I see I’ve sadly neglected.

And finally, I will ere long toss up two moresenses-shattering free sample chapters of The Dinosaur Lords for your entertainment and edification. Which will still amount to, oh, rather less than 5% of the majestic whole. They don’t call it epic fantasy for nothing, kids.

Which means I best hop back to producing the real stuff now. And you know what that means:

As always, thanks for reading!

My suave new hat.

It was another fairly warm day here in the Duke City – we’ve had several in a row. I had various errands to run, including shopping for supplies to do some serious cooking this [...]]]> So I just got back from giving a field test to the waterproofing of my jaunty new hat.

My suave new hat.

It was another fairly warm day here in the Duke City – we’ve had several in a row. I had various errands to run, including shopping for supplies to do some serious cooking this weekend.

Which I launched into tonight. First  I made up a batch of my red chile cream-cheese fudge, which is what’s for breakfast most days. Dinner was oven-roasted chicken with low-carb barbecue sauce and fresh-baked flaxseed-meal bread. A bit prep-intensive, yes.

But I have to say it was pretty good.

Meanwhile, winter snuck in whilst no one was looking. Got all cold and stormy, like.

After I did the dishes I decided to take Emma for a walk around the block, since there’d been no chance for a real walk today. It had rained but wasn’t currently.

Until we stepped outside. Of course. Then first thing we got a pretty spectacular lightning display right overhead. I decided to tempt Fate and go for it anyway. And as soon as we got around the corner it started to rain. Slowly at first. But picking up to a pretty brisk pace.

And … the hat worked. Shed water peachy-keen. of course, it didn’t do much for Emma. Who naturally acted as if I was flaying her with blunt knives when I toweled her off after we got safely inside.  Now she’s snoozing on the sofa while I sit in my recliner wrapped up in a blankie to write this.

I’m feeling better. Much better. You may have reckoned that. The steroids seem to be working – on the breathing problems, at least; I still do not resemble the Incredible Hulk, no matter how angry I get. I’m breathing free and easily most of the time.

Especially at night. For some utterly unknown reason I’m also sleeping better. Hence getting more done. This is Good.

This weekend we have Pat Rogers’ and Scott Denning’s Halloween party. Otherwise known as the Party. It is to all other parties as Amber is to other cities: they are pale reflections of its magnificence.

In the next day or so I’m planning to whip up a batch of my popular red chile pumpkin soup for the party. Feels like the season for it.

Hope it finds you safe, and warm, and dry.

And as always – thanks for reading.

The answer is, depends on which [...]]]> Wednesday I finally got in to see the doctor. I was subsequently sitting at Costco waiting for my shiny new prescriptions to be filled when the distinguished-looking older Latino gentleman sitting near me said to me, “Excuse me, but has anybody ever told you you look like that actor dude?”

The answer is, depends on which actor dude. I’ve been told I looked like several. Most idiosyncratic of whom was Richard Dreyfuss, but let’s glide by that….

“Um … can’t remember his name. But he was that dude in Dumb and Dumber.”

I'm gonna take a wild flier here and guess he didn't mean Jim Carrey....

Indeed. And I … take my compliments where I can get ‘em, thank you very much.

So he – guessing here – was saying I looked like Jeff Daniels. I recalled at the time the actor’s name was Jeff something – I’ve seen him in various things, though not the cinematic marvel in question. But I wasn’t sure and couldn’t summon the full name for the life of me.

In this case I can actually see a certain resemblance. We do seem to have reasonably similar facial structure and coloring, and officially, at least, he’s but a year younger than I. But the role in question….

Moving on.

And that’s the real news: I am, indeed, moving on!

And good news it is.

To recap, the unprecedentedly intense and sustained crap thrown into our Albuquerque air from the Wallow and Las Conchas wildfires this summer hit me hard. It inflamed my lungs, and a week-long escape to St. Louis courtesy of my dear friends Mike and Karla Weaver and JoEllen Potchen didn’t entirely serve to get them cleared up. Though I did have a great time.

Then allergy season hit hard in Burque. And with my lungs already inflamed it hit me harder than usual. It got really bad right before I went back to St. Louis for Archon – and then what with one thing and another I got hit with a couple of scary-bad episodes there.

The big problem is I’m currently prone to asthma attacks. The inflammation at least mimicked symptoms of asthma – shortness of breath, wheezing, especially that horrid whistle. Which in turn cause anxiety that kick in a full-on asthma attack, if that wasn’t already what was happening.

Friends offered various good suggestions, and gave me some sample OTC antihistamines and such. Which helped … some.

And finally a week ago Friday I went in to the UNM Hospital Urgent Care Center, which resulted in another respite which proved temporary. And finally I got an appointment with my doctor. Which in turn culminated in the encounter mentioned above.

I was there to collect a raft of new prescriptions, notably for three steroids. Including a nasal one, so now when my nose runs, it’ll run really, really fast. At the very least I should wind up totally ripped from all this, right? Only simple justice.

And after another bad night and not-so-great day for things to kick in, my breathing began to seriously clear up. I can now report three pretty free and easy-breathing nights in a row. For the first time since July at least.

Here’s the thing: the one thing I cannot power through by any amount of will period is mental fatigue and its attendant lack of ability to focus my thoughts. And there’s something about being unable to breathe that makes sleep … problematic. Which in turn makes doing what I do – need to do and want to do – problematic.

And I got plenty to do. Wonderfully enough.

Now I’m getting rested up again. Which means, flippin’ ready to do it. So – watch out!

And – thanks yet again to my wonderful friends. For your support and help.

And as always – thanks for reading!

I will do all within my power to make it worth your while. Friends and readers alike. And now I’m getting the wherewithal back to bloody do it.

And that beats even being told I look like somebody famous.

This is the image that called to mind, yes? If not, feel free to thank me. Gratuities gratefully accepted.

Because I find that, if I believe without reservation that I can make the future a better place for myself and those [...]]]> OK, so actually I am cultivating in myself unguarded optimism: straight-ahead, all-out, no-pants, face-in-the-wind optimism.

This is the image that called to mind, yes? If not, feel free to thank me. Gratuities gratefully accepted.

Because I find that, if I believe without reservation that I can make the future a better place for myself and those I care about, it helps propel me there. So it’s useful. So I do it.

Anyway, I am guardedly optimistic about at last kicking free of the breathing problems that have been hindering me since summer. Only guardedly despite my resolve to let it all hang out (see image above for the SFW visual!) because I have had good nights before, followed hotly by hideous ones.

But last night was a good night. I got a fairly long sleep, and sometimes when I woke up I was breathing fairly clearly. Unlike recently when lying down asleep for any length of time left me gasping like a beached carp on awakening.

Also, after I got over yesterday’s damn speed bump, and my breathing loosened up, the lungs stayed pretty clear until late at night. That, combined with how the night went, and the fact while when I did get up it did take a bit to pry the breathing loose it’s going pretty smoothly now, makes me feel that progress is indeed getting made.

I’ve taken the third dose of my prednisone, and I also began the threatened Ritual Scouring of the Bedclothes – including not just the stuffed animals but the pillows, which I’ve never tried washing before. So that gives me grounds for optimism, however guarded recent unpleasant experience keeps it.

Also thanks to some excellent friends on Facebook, including our Archon Masquerade Mistress Sheila “Who Is To Be Obeyed” Corwin and Casey Hamilton, I will probably gird up the loins and head into the clinic way too early tomorrow morning with the specific intent of snagging a script for some kind of long-term inhaled corticosteroid, such as Asmanex or generic Flovent to hammer down the lung inflammation that’s the root of the evil, here. I’ve had past experience of the former, which worked a packet, and caused me no noticeable bad side effects. Casey reports good experience with the latter. But Asmanex was also way pricey, and the Flovent generic might be cheaper. We shall see.

The point is: I have let this (plus, admittedly a different kind of setback a few months back) impede my forward motion more than I probably ought to have. Especially that latter thing, since breathing and sleeping are fairly important pastimes, the lack whereof will tend to distract a body. Still, I probably should have overcome my reluctance to expose myself to the whole medical experience earlier and taken action to fix this before now.

Oh, well; can’t bring back time passed. The key is I am doing what needs be done to get back to speed – then kick it up.

And it seems to be working. I will continue until it damned well does.

Meanwhile I was yesterday able to get something productive done. Not much; not especially exciting or gratifying. But necessary for progress to happen on the actual, you know. Writing. So I claim that as a win. Yay!

In reality, any day I wake up is justly a win. At the same time (and in line with the mouseover rant – and I do try to keep that sort of thing down to a dull roar here on Sense of Adventure, truly, truly) it’s not death I fear. It’s failing to truly live.

I literally believe that I was sent back here – and (since many of them told me so) that my friends expended such extraordinary efforts and money to give me a fighting chance to stay here – because I had yet to accomplish the greatest part of my Great Work: to entertain the world, starting with myself and radiating outward.

I think that is a good and worthwhile undertaking. Rewind; I know that it is a good and worthwhile undertaking.And I knowingly consecrated my life to that pursuit years ago.

So … that Great Work beckons. With reasonably clear lungs and mind … time to get back to it.

What else am I here for?

(Well, plenty. But that’s the Big Thing.)

As always – thanks for reading! Because how the hell else am I gonna entertain you?*

*OK, trick question. The Agent, who is a good Agent, is already exploring what we may call alternate media possibilities for The Dinosaur Lords and its sisters. And please to remember that’s not the only arrow in my quiver. I can say no more; verbum sap. And stay tuned!