But first: your too-long deferred fix of Emma Dog. Because we all know she’s really the draw here to the blog. I just need to face facts.

Emma looks absurdly [...]]]> So, since my most recently recounted (and most triumphant!) adventure, I had a very busy week. Too busy to take time off and, you know, blog.

But first: your too-long deferred fix of Emma Dog. Because we all know she’s really the draw here to the blog. I just need to face facts.

Emma looks absurdly happy about her heating pad (concealed under the fleece. Also the dog.)

Every winter Emma has a problem with her right rear hip. It seems that cold causes it to hurt. Walking warms her up, but she often feels sore afterward.

So I bought her a doggy-bed heating pad. And, now that she finally seems to be realizing that the unnatural hot spot on her sofa (pictured above) won’t actually disintegrate her, and to actually lie on it some, it seems to be doing her some good.

Yay! (Also hit the above pic, or indeed here, for a Flickr album of shots of Emma on her couch, taken just a few minutes ago.)

Otherwise I’ve been busy with the usual occupations (writing, walking aforesaid Emma) as well as socializing.

Lots and lots of socializing.

Thanksgiving my friends John Jos and Gail Gerstner-Miller kindly drove me up to Santa Fe and back (again!), along with their friend Lynn Kaczor, for a dinner at Steve and Jan Stirling’s house, along with Walter Jon Williams and his wife Kathy Hedges.

(And, sorry, not linking to anybody’s web site or info this time, either. I am tired and need to get this post put to bed, and then me. Google is our friend.)

It was delicious. Also fun. hard to beat the company.

But last night at the very least gave it a run for its money. Saturday my dear friend Melinda Snodgrass threw herself a party for her 60th birthday, and good on her. (Some people, I am given to understand, object to others holding their own birthday parties. Screw those people.)

John and Gail kindly hauled me along with them again. (Again!) And … it was swell. Among those attending were George R. R, Martin and his wife Parris, Ian Tregillis, Sage Walker and Hank Messinger, Rhea Golden, Pati Nagle and Chris Krohn, and Royce “Chip” Wideman. Patricia Rogers and Jayné Franck for English-style high tea, which was what this fandango technically was. (Nobody does dress-up like Pat. Although Jayné …. well, there were no flies on Jayné, either.)

Plus this time we were joined by little-known Colorado SF author Connie Willis, along with her daughter Cordelia and her husband Courtney.  Who are also swell. As were all the other people there, whose full names I never caught, and to whom I apologize for not listing them. Apologies as well to the friends who were there whom I am morally sure have slipped out of my head, and who are consequently plotting my demise for leaving them out.

Melinda insisted on publicly blaming me again, this time. Some people….

And – wait. I just now saw I neglected to mention the last time. It was at the Wild Cards Cocktail Party (read all about it!) thrown last Saturday by Kay McCauley. Toasts were proposed, to Kay for her work on our behalf and for hosting the affair, and also to Melinda, for fighting the good fight against crushing odds until at last she sold the damn Wild Cards rights to Hollywood.

Then Melinda took the floor to offer special thanks to two men. First she thanked George, without whom none of this would have happened. As obvious as it was just. Then she said she wanted to thank … me.

And I naturally said, “What did I do this time?”

I honestly had no idea. Until she mentioned that I was the one who gave George the Superworld role-playing game we all played so obsessively – mostly the campaign game-mastered by GRRM himself – from which the whole weird, wonderful, and long-lived Wild Cards project sprang. Which, while true, was kind of her to mention.

So what did she blame me for yesterday at her party, in front of God, Cthulhu, and everybody?

Telling her she ought to think about giving writing a try. Professionally, that is.

And … yeah. Guilty as charged.

Again.

By the way, Melinda’s actual birthday is today, November 27th. In case you wanted to, you know, wish her a happy one. Yeah, I know it’s late. Deal.

So I hope you all had as fine a Thanksgiving and subsequent weekend as I did. No finer group of friends exists than mine, though I am willing to acknowledge the possibility that equally fine sets exist. (And I would be remiss if I failed to mention I’ve also muchly enjoyed the extra time spent hanging with my best friend Joseph Reichert, who isn’t a part of the SF set and doesn’t much hang with them.)

And yes, now I see Emma lying full-out on her heated fleece on the sofa. Yay! I was going to take a picture of that, because she looked cute, but I let my camera battery run down and it needs recharged. Ah, well!

Be well, folks. Be happy. And as always – thanks for reading!

Encounter #1:

Earlier this evening Emma Dog and I took a walk on what I call Bear’s Ditch, just east of the Rio Grande Nature Center fields. It’s our favorite place to walk. As often is the case, we encountered sundry people and animals – mostly dogs, although the equestrians were out in force today too.

Encounter #1:

Me: Relax, Emma. These are just a pair of harmless high school kids.

Emma: Dad, I think they’re ninjas.

Encounter #2:

Me: Emma, why don’t you just stay in the water until the lady with the three dogs goes past? You’re half Shar pei. If you wrinkle all up like a prune, it’s not like anybody’s gonna notice.

She didn’t buy it, for what it’s worth.

Not many birds out, notwithstanding the fall migration is alleged to have begun. Not even ducks or swallows, which are pretty abundant this time of year. (OK, ducks are pretty abundant almost every time of the year.) Certainly no dramatic hawks. Or hummingbirds laughing in the face of death.

On a couple recent visits I have seen tiny toads, which I presume to be babies. Fortunately they all hopped out from under foot before being squished – I like toads, and would feel bad about squishing a baby one. Also on various occasions something has plopped into the water right as we approached; I’ve presumed these to be frogs, but never gotten a look at anything but expanding rings of ripples.

But today, right by a place where the bank’s scooped out down to the water, I spied a little green head with two little dark eyes, just protruding above the water surface, First thought it was a frog, then maybe a turtle. On closer examination – yup: frog. May’ve been a baby bullfrog, since it didn’t seem to have leopard-frog (our generic NM frog) markings.

At least the water was the normal olive drab color today. Last time it had a blackish cast, which I didn’t notice until (to my dismay) Emma was wading in and drinking it. Happily it seemed to do her no harm. But the high-water mud is still stained dark. Any ideas what’s up with that?

All told, another lovely walk on Bear’s Ditch! Didn’t even rain on us.

Oh, and about those horsies: Emma knows what they are, and pays little attention to them. Since they’re clearly too big to be Food, aren’t on her Official Emma List of Approved Persons (think they’re too big for that, too), or Foes, I suspect she has them classed as Moving Parts of the Landscape.

That said, I always make sure she and I are well off the path when horses pass, and make it obvious I’ve got her on a short lead (I use a retractable, natch.) While she’s fine with horses, neither the horses nor riders have any way of knowing that.

With coffee and, eventually, French Vanilla ice cream, thank you very much.

As I mentioned yesterday on Facebook (took me some serious scrolling to find the original post, what with the way my Wall has been slammed by birthday greetings. For which, well – [...]]]> So, low-starch/sugar birthday cake successfully made and frosted, and the first piece consumed!

With coffee and, eventually, French Vanilla ice cream, thank you very much.

As I mentioned yesterday on Facebook (took me some serious scrolling to find the original post, what with the way my Wall has been slammed by birthday greetings. For which, well – thanks, everybody!) I had initial reservations about the frosting. No matter what I did (including adding extra Splenda, some butter, and my go-to spice, Saigon cinnamon) it tasted somewhat acrid/bitter to me.

But you know what? It’s pretty darned good. Both with and without the ice cream.

So: yay! A good start on the day. Along with enjoying reading and replying to the aforementioned deluge of birthday wishes.

Naturally, I will tinker with the recipes some. Think I’ll just use melted unsweetened chocolate in both batter and frosting henceforth, both for texture and ease. The cocoa powder tastes fine, and the slight gritty texture it seems to add to the fudge is a plus is my book. But I like … moister, creamier in the cake and frosting.

May add a bit of oil to the cake mix, too. On the whole, it’s pretty good.

To my surprise, a night in the fridge (I like my cake cool. Go figure) seemed to mellow the tang of the frosting some. That said, next time I will go with the butter cream frosting (my own low-sugar implementation, o’ course!) mentioned by Robert Mossack, per the recipe Jb Matoushek kindly pointed me toward.

Not to put too fine an edge on it, I may make me another cake as soon as this one’s eaten. Because why not?

I’d send along pics, except I contrived to break the nifty little camera Rich Zellich and his wife Michelle kindly gave me as a fet-well gift last year, boo hoo. So I’m back to the cell phone camera, which ain’t great but is still better than my mad sketching skilz.Which are definitely sketchy.

But really? ot much to show. It looks … cakelike. And more to the point, tastes that way!

So now, after promising to do so earlier, I’m gonna bag this Internet thing, go play me some Mass Effect for the first time, and go catch Cowboys & Aliens at the movin’-picture show.

Thanks, all! I am indeed having a Happy Birthday.

And I’m happy to be having a birthday.

With my birthday coming up Wednesday I’ve decided to try to making this recipe for sour-cream chocolate cake, except substituting flaxseed meal for flour and Splenda for sugar. We’re talking seriously low starch, low sugar.

I was inspired by this flaxseed “foccacia” bread, which is very breadlike [...]]]> Wish me luck, kids. I am so going for it!

With my birthday coming up Wednesday I’ve decided to try to making this recipe for sour-cream chocolate cake, except substituting flaxseed meal for flour and Splenda for sugar. We’re talking seriously low starch, low sugar.

I was inspired by this flaxseed “foccacia” bread, which is very breadlike in both taste and texture. Plus it makes superior toast to the flaxseed and psyllium-husk “pancakes” I made earlier. Which, mind you, are pretty good (plus it came to me the other night that I need to try using that batter to make corn dogs.)

While the basic “foccacia” bread is a tad on the bland side – I’m gonna tinker some; huge surprise – it already struck me as fairly cakelike. I thought of just tossing in some (extra) Splenda and a bunch of cocoa powder and hoping.

But what I decided to do is try the cake recipe with straight-up substitution of the flaxseed and Splenda.

This is death-or-glory cooking at it finest. Or at least its hairiest-assed.

I’ll let you know how it turns out – tasty birthday treat? Inedible glop? We’ll find out.

In, like, half an hour.

Stay tuned….

Update, 8:54 PM MDT – Well, it’s baked into something which looks suspiciously cakelike. Now the Great Mystery is how it’ll taste.

Must cool considerably before I test it, of course.

Update, 9:10 PM MDT – Taste test accomplished! And the result is -

(Check comments to see!)

PS – Why, yes. I am a stinker.

Especially not, Gods forbid, a purple one.

Yeah, it’s trite. Also true. It’s hard.

So this is the task I’ve set myself. At least until next Sunday.

Of course it may seem strange to blog about it, since I’ve complained blogging is a lot like work. Since it involves. You know. Writing.

But [...]]]> Quick – don’t think of a rhinoceros!

Especially not, Gods forbid, a purple one.

Yeah, it’s trite. Also true. It’s hard.

So this is the task I’ve set myself. At least until next Sunday.

Of course it may seem strange to blog about it, since I’ve complained blogging is a lot like work. Since it involves. You know. Writing.

But it’s fiction writing I’ve committed not to think about for a whole week. And therein lies the problem.

It can be summed up simply: since I was a kid – certainly since I was in high school – I’ve thought about writing fiction almost every single day. The only exceptions I can call to mind were a very few when I was literally too sick to. Especially early last year, when for a time I basically couldn’t think at all.

What I’ve never – ever – done is deliberately try to refrain from writing. And, don’t you know, that’s one of the reasons I think it’s so important I do just that now.

As I announced to the world yesterday, with a Tyrannosaur Roar of joy and liberation that shook the entire state (allegedly), I just finished a writing project I’ve been writing at for just over eight and one-half years. I committed to it on my birthday, August 3rd, in 2002. And while this is, in the end, just a draft – it’s the draft I’m probably going to show to the world to sell the thing. So: kinda important.

And … I need a reset. A big, scary phase is about to commence: selling it – and making sure it, and I, don’t get short-changed. I am every scrap as committed to that as I was to writing (and then laboriously rewriting) the monster. Getting paid is a separate enterprise from making, and it’s an equally important skill. Whether we like it or not, it’s a fact, like the need to breathe air.

So I’m not thinking of that either. Not now.

The thing is … OK, what do I do with myself and this hyperactive head of mine? Yes, I’ve spent much of my 36-year career – way too much – contriving ways not to write. And only recently have I begun to make real substantial progress toward breaking that habit.

But avoiding the act of writing and avoiding thinking about writing are entirely different things.

So .. what do I do?

Well, there are maintenance tasks that I have, by choice, somewhat neglected the last few weeks. Since my holiday season has officially ended with the Superbowl, I can take down my Christmas decorations – although I find the colorful lights comforting, so, no hurry. The house needs a good cleaning, which thanks to my friends and various other circumstances I’m now able to do. I need a new tire for my car that does not require my surrendering in exchange a roughly analogous appendage from my own body. Plus … stuff.

Also, there’s walking. That’s suffered the last few weeks, although more due to persistent, minor health bugs, and our awful Arctic weather last week, than to preoccupation with my novel. Emma and I need to get out more, longer, and farther.

And … I need to do more stuff. Just in general. I need to practice freeing my perceptions and emotions from long self-imposed restrictions and just break out of routine. I’ve been chiseling away at these for weeks; now it’s time to hunt up a bigger hammer.

Plus some other things, like at last getting a new power source for my old but trusty desktop PC. Trying to use up some of the gift certificates friends have generously lavished on me before they expire (which prospect I find, candid, outright theft – but that’s for another time.) Learning, at long, last last, how to use my ultra-cool map-making software, Campaign Cartographer 3. Which, yes, I intend ultimately (and soon!) to use to create long-awaited maps for The Project of Which I May Neither Speak Nor Think (so you can quit whining any time now, Ian.) But I don’t have to think about it to learn to make freaking maps with the software.

One of the key lessons I need to learn (and for various reasons, which I expect I’ll elaborate on here in the fullness of time) is what I really want to do? What do I enjoy?

Well, other than writing – which I enjoy more than almost anything else I’ve ever done (use your imagination.) Important as that is to me, to belabor the blindingly obvious, it can’t and mustn’t be the whole of life.

So, that’s another thing to explore this week.

Right. Now to go and get a belated breakfast and start foraging around for that new tire.

Plus, you know. Living.

Go.