Sense of Adventure

Okay, that’s totally a lie. I didn’t roll a bit of it. More doled it out with a spoon, and liberal use of my fingers.

Important Safety Tip: If you’re one of the people I give cookies to for Christmas, don’t read anything above this line!

Yes, it was time to make chocolate chip cookies. They’ve been a Christmas tradition in my family for most of my life. I love ‘em. Last year I chose to pass on making them because I was starting in on a regime of lowering my starch intake - something I’ve not been consistent enough with, although I’ve taken off weight and kept some of it off. I’m not as fat a wad as I was this time last year. Which is something.

I dallied with the thought of trying to make this a low starch, or at least reduced sugar recipe. Then I decided: screw it. I’ve enough else on the plate right now not to want to experiment, and I really am intending on gifting some of my friends with cookies. Hey, they’re good.

I am already gearing up for, around the turn of the year, getting into a much more rigorous low-starch regimen. One thing this’ll entail, as my earlier experiences have taught me, is getting far more seriously into cooking. I enjoy it and dabble in it and do pretty well; my red chile pumpkin soup, which I was more or less told I was going to bring, was well received at the Friday night ASFS meeting/dessert cook-off, by those who weren’t too chicken about the red chile part. I actually tied for second place in the “Pumpkin” subcategory. Which would be more impressive if there hadn’t been but three pumpkin dishes. And much more impressive if the category hadn’t basically been conjured out of air to give me something to win (the soup not being dessert) and thus help entice me to bring the stuff. What they hey; I got a nice prize (including, ironically, a soup cookbook.)

(more…)

… snow falling from a mostly clear, bright blue sky.

Emma asked to go out a while back, maybe half an hour. It was snowing and the ground was pretty well whitened with a comprehensive but thin layer of snow. She didn’t particularly want to stay out but she needed to eat her breakfast (okay, I got up a little late today) and also the cats get an early treat.

Emma’s in fact really good about keeping away from what’s not hers, amazingly even food, until given explicit permission. But I don’t want to torment the girl, nor have her presence make the cats nervous. They like her and trust her not to act hostile, but not to get rambunctious and, you know, accidentally squash them.

Anyway I got everything taken care of and went out to bring Emma in and let her finish eating inside where she wasn’t at risk from moisture falling on her from the sky. I noticed that little bitty flakes of snow still fell enthusiastically. I also noticed the back yard looked pretty bright.

I stepped off the porch and looked up. There remained some pretty dense, stormy-looking clouds roundabout, but overhead was a huge swatch of brilliant blue, with just a kind of thin horsetail sweeping across one side of it. But what was amazing was looking up and up through millions of falling flakes into the bright sky.

It really took me by surprise. I’m not unused to sun showers; heck, here in NM, especially with the spring winds, we can get dust storms in the midst of rain storms when, yes, the sun is shining: mud sun showers. Seriously.

But a snow sun shower? That’s a new one on me.

It was really pretty. It did look a bit like one of those mock snowfalls, where fine powder blows off tall roofs or tree branches. But there’s nothing particularly tall around here. No big trees in the neighbor’s yard, or indeed the next; and it’s pretty much one story from here north to city’s end. Anyway, in spite of coming down at a notably steep angle, this snow was clearly not bing blown off anything (not enough wind; that’s another thing.) It was falling.

When I stepped out again about two minutes later I thought the snow had stopped. Then I noticed a few flakes dusting down and stepped off the porch again. I could still see falling flakes stacked way up the sky.

Now (10-15 minutes later) I’m guessing the snow’s stopped. I’m sitting on the sofa facing the front wall; through the translucent window liner thingies (writes Mr. Professional Writer Guy Who Always Knows the Right Word) the light’s dimmed, indicating it’s clouded back over.

I hope the streets don’t get too icy. ASFS is holding a Dessert Bake-Off for its December meeting tonight, and somehow I was conscripted into entering my Red Chile Pumpkin Soup, even though it’s not dessert. We shall see.

And indeed do many things come to pass.

So I am. I’m nothing if not in tune to the seasons.

As a service to my beloved friends and readers, I’d just like to mention that I’ve a wish list posted on Amazon.com. The easiest way to access it is just to click here. Or search for “Victor Milan,” or my email address, “vicmilan - at - buggerallspambots -ix - dot - netcom - dot - com.” If you can’t decipher that, just stick to “Victor Milan” or click the link.

Okay, do not search for “Victor Milán” (which, yes, is the actual spelling of my name.) At least if you’re looking for me. Astonishingly enough, there’s another one of those who has a wish list on Ammie, yet isn’t me. Nifty name, though.

None of my friends (nor anyone else) need feel obligated to give me a gift - please. I love getting presents; I love giving presents. And I love my friends regardless.

But if one is minded to give me a present, now you know where to get ideas…

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! This is my favorite time of the year.

And, dang, I’m still trying to warp my head around the fact there’s another Victor Milán. I mean, I’ve only ever met two other Victors in my whole life, and one of ‘em is SF writer Victor Koman. This Victor Milán even has some similar semi-esoteric tastes, such as for King Crimson and Wishbone Ash. I wonder if I’d like a band called “Spock’s Beard?” It’s certainly an SF-nerdy enough name. And looking it up, it appears to be a progressive rock band … and I’m definitely an old prog rocker. Hm.

Indeed do many things come to pass.

No, it’s not some kind of industrial art photograph. Although it’d make a cool one.

A little while back - around 4:20 PM - I took a break from Annja’s latest exploits and went out to bring the Christmas boxes in from the shed. A couple weeks ago I strung some colored lights on the mantel to brighten the shortening days and do some light therapy, as it were (worked, by the way.) Today I decided the time had come to begin serious holiday preparation.

I’d hardly stepped off the porch when I heard the unmistakable burbling of cranes. And there they were, about halfway up the sky and not terribly far away: a vee of maybe thirty individuals, including an extra bar parallel to the lower arm, southbound.

I love it.

Years ago when I first moved to Jupiter - twenty years ago this past April, in fact - I was entranced to discover the wild geese flew over my house in Spring and Fall. Many times I was awakened by their poignant cries as formations passed overhead.

Maybe ten years or so ago their flight path changed. They didn’t fly my way any more. But soon enough the Sandhills start coming over. So that’s not so bad a trade.

I don’t know if these were fixing to light here or heading on south to the Bosque el Apache, which is a huge crane hangout in the winter. Given the lateness of the day I’m presuming they were at least getting ready to settle for the night along the river. It seems late in the season for them to still be coming (although it’s true the Crane Festival down at Bosque del Apache was just a week or two ago.) Nowadays the cranes winter here in substantial numbers, all the way through to Spring. A few years ago this was basically a stopover for a few weeks or a month before they went on south - or headed to Cali to have sex (granted, a common enough reason for going to California.)

Always good to see them, though. And to hear them…

Yep, the senses-shattering next volume of the illustrious Wild Cards saga has wrapped and is about to be delivered to Tor. It’s called Busted Flush. And unlike the soon-to-be-released Inside Straight, I most definitely am in this one.

Busted Flush is by way of being another mosaic novel - all the stories are intertwined. It’s a boatload of work for George, the editor, and Melinda, the co-editor (who also wrote the interstitial material tying it all together.) But it can produce a very nice effect.

My contribution marks the return of an old friend. But things are maybe not as they appear…

Just got back an hour or two ago from a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner most kindly hosted by my good friends John and Gail Miller. I didn’t stay late; I’m really sleepy for some reason. Not that getting to sleep fairly early tonight will do me much harm…

Anyway, Emma was crying to be let in from being put out a few minutes ago. I went to fetch her, and darned if the backyard wasn’t dusted with snow!

Been a long time since we’ve gotten snow this early, to the best of my remembering. Don’t know that I’ve ever seen it on Thanksgiving.

Anyway, hope you all had a good one.

What it says, to one and all.

I’m thankful for my health; for my wonderful friends and extended family, human and animal; and for being able to make my living in a pretty cool way.

In particular I thank you. My friends, readers, fans. You keep me going. In more than the obvious ways.

Health, happiness, freedom, and prosperity to all in the coming year. Despite the odds.

The last few days, just to make life interesting, my notebook computer’s been acting up. Either there’s something funky inside the box or the multi-tip Kensington power supply Circuitous City sold me last month when my existing power supply went Tango Uniform, doesn’t quite fit the socket.

What’s been happening is, the power keeps flickering. It’s obvious from the way the screen dims when the machine goes on battery power, as well as the fact that the power-input indicator light goes black. It’s annoying. Fiddling with the plug where it goes in the back of the computer sometimes brings it back. Usually, if sometimes after many attempts.

So after a day or two of it behaving itself mostly, I started having trouble again today. The battery got a bit low, so I got it where it was telling me it was getting power and left it to recharge.I ate dinner and came back to get some writing done. And the computer was black. No lights on; nobody home. Wouldn’t turn on.

Ulp. Uncomfortable feeling. Everything’s backed up - sort of. But it’s been a while since I backed up to the removable hard drive that my desktop PC will actually read.

I tried diddling the plug around in the socket. Nothing. I began to fear the power fluctuations had fried my motherboard. Which would be a Bad Thing.

I sat for a bit contemplating my options. Okay, mainly I was stunned. It did occur to me I could run my thumb drive to some friends’ house and get ‘em to cut me a CD I could slap in my desktop to transfer recently added/edited files. Be a pain, but it’d get me back writing again.

After a while it occurred to me to drag out the package the new power supply came with, which I’d stashed with the old power supply, and see if a different tip might work out. The answer to that was, “no.”

But it came to me to try the old adapter. Sort of on the “it can’t actually hurt” principle. And damned if it didn’t work.

I have no idea.

Also, no idea how to proceed. Obviously I’ve no idea how long the old adapter will continue to work. I’m not altogether sure the problem isn’t inside the box, although we had different symptoms with the two different power supplies.

Gah. Everything’s been breaking lately.

I shall persevere. At least the ‘puter’s working now.

At Emma’s request I just put her out in the backyard - sorry, that’s her whole contribution to this post. Please try to enjoy it anyway.

When I stepped out to set down her water dish my heart shot straight into my throat. Climbing up the western night sky was a gaggle of small glowing spheroids, intertwining and jostling each other.

Twice before in my life I’ve seen something close by in the sky that made me think, Well, that question’s answered: aliens exist, they’re here, and the little buggers have got me.

(Full disclosure: my first thought, especially in the first instance, was actually, Oh, shit. But I thought the other thing really soon thereafter. Really.)

This was the third time. It was also the one I most quickly realized had a conventional explanation.

First I thought they were flares. Then I realized climbing was not a flare-like activity.

But pretty quick I recognized them as a string of balloons - just regular party-type balloons, obviously filled with helium. Probably they escaped or were released from the used car lot over across Fourth Street. The city lights below were bright enough to make them seem self-luminous.

They got up into a wind current and blew east overhead. They streamed out into a more linear formation. They were actually quite pretty.

I’ve seen some striking aerial phenomena, from meteors and the Northern Lights to high-altitude balloons to the F-117 and the YF-12A (interceptor version of the SR-71 Blackbird.) I’ve seen a couple of things which I could identify but not readily account for. And, yes, I’ve several times seen something for which I can find no conventional explanation.

Today I had to try gluing my rearview mirror back to the windshield again. Because I was engaged in preliminary indoor work, scraping and cleaning the little steel plate which is what actually gets affixed (allegedly) to the glass, Emma prudently withdrew to her pen in my office, on the chance I might gouge myself or drop something hard on my foot. At such times Daddy’s special words are liable to come out. At a very special volume (i.e., high.)

Having wrapped that up - fingers crossed it’ll actually hold this time, ha, ha - I decided it was time we went for a walk. Following a clever practice taught me by my good friend Karly in St. Louis, I keep water bottles in the freezer so I’ll be assured of cold water on walks. Since it’s not as warm as it might be, although fairly warm out today, I decided to go ahead and get one out to start thawing while I changed clothes and whatnot.

It was just a matter of taking the bottle out of the freezer and slipping it into the pocket of my kidney-belt water carrier. Made little noise to speak of that I could hear. Yet here comes Emma trotting out of the far side of the house, perky at the anticipation of going for a walk.

She knew. Not only did she hear the little tiny noises I made, she correctly identified those nondescript sounds as Daddy Preparing to Walk.

Amazing.