Sense of Adventure » Me

Okay. I’m shrunk.

Victor — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 23:42:14 +0000

Yes, it’s official: my head is shrunk!

At least to an appropriate size.

As I may’ve mentioned, I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist. While I was in the hospital I was diagnosed as suffering from severe clinical depression. What with one thing or another, I couldn’t argue with that.

So today I had my last session. Why’s that? Because my shrink, his mentor, and I all agreed I didn’t need them anymore.

Basically, I seem to be headed in the right direction. I’m acquiring the tools to do what I need to do, and using them appropriately.

I had to ask a question: it was my impression that clinical depression was currently believed to have mainly physical causes. Which made me wonder, how come I am, to all evidence, getting better? I mean, yeah, almost dying. That’s pretty big, sure. But like turning some kind of switch in the brain?

What my doctor said was that, yes, there’s evidence for the physical hypothesis as a cause for severe depression. Also, there’s evidence for what I believe he called cognitive processes: thoughts and feelings.

Which makes sense to me. We’re complex critters. With some of us it’s going to be more of one, in some the other. One size never fits all.

I guess I just needed basis to feel that the progress I’ve made – internally, corroborated by external evidence – can somehow be real. Yeah, I know a thing that’s real is so whether or not there’s a conventional explanation for it. Still. I feel more confident if there’s an explanation for it.

Even if it’s, you know, wrong.

Things aren’t perfect. I’m not perfect. And perfectionism is something I’ve been striving to cure myself of.

I’m getting better. Doing better. Doing more. I’m headed in the right direction.

And the odds look good I’ll stay that way. Fingers crossed. And – yay!

Finally, for some reason I’m not comfortable outing my shrink, big a help as he’s been. Maybe I should ask him. Maybe I will.

But for now – thanks, Dr. Pedro!

===

In other tidings, and as a follow-up to yesterday’s post, say hello to my little friend my shiny new Facebook profile: http://www.facebook.com/vicmilan.

Oh, and WordPress? If your software doesn’t support display of certain characters, why the freak does it offer them in the “Insert custom character” option in your menu bar?

I cultivate my lump nature

Victor — Sat, 27 Mar 2010 19:03:23 +0000

Been doing steadily better. Yesterday was a bit of a plateau. On which I, yes, cultivated my lump nature.

Didn’t have much choice. Thursday I spent doing medical-related appointments. My noble and wonderful friend (one of many, and a standout even among such illustrious company) Kathy Kubica-Kelly schlepped me around and hung with me from 7:30 AM to 3 PM. Granted, we had a break for breakfast, and for her to provide still more invaluable help searching for the final documentation for my much-dreaded financial-aid interview.

The latter went well. I was astonished how low the bill was. I’m still a little nervous that might not have been all, although as a teaching hospital UNMH has fairly low rates, I’m told. The sum was still eye-popping. But I qualified for aid, and let’s say I was able to settle on terms that were far from ruinous, even in my financially reduced state.

That’s a huge weight off – my biggest remaining worry.

But all that came at a cost. I felt good to walk a lot on Thursday. Unfortunately, I had to walk about twice as far as I was actually good for, plus had to stand 20 minutes at the pharmacy while they tried to figure out where my prescription was. I almost passed out.

Friday was … not good. Despite having (finally!) got a good night’s sleep I was empty, achy and sick-tired. Meanwhile my friends Melinda Snodgrass and Chip Wideman turned up to bustle around and do things for me, and some workmen came as well. I just lay in my cool new recliner chair and cultivated my lump nature. Felt bad, but could literally do no more.

(And isn’t it characteristic of us human critters that, after several days of pure progress – very busy ones, I have to admit – I finally log on here to bitch? Or, just me?)

Right before I got back my water line sprang a leak. Thought I might be able to dig it out gradually and fix it. Wouldn’t have worked had I not been useless yesterday. The whole 60-year old iron supply pipe gave up the ghost. It’s being replaced now. Having water will be a great relief, as will not having to hear a leak.

One amusing bit from my Thursday odyssey: I liked my doctor. He was young, but not so young-looking I felt as if I was being examined by Michael Cena or anything. A well-trimmed beard and moustache may have helped. He was … let’s say, interactive. He answered questions, asked questioned, and actually listened to my replies. Not something I’m used to from doctors, although all the doctors I dealt with when I was inside were helpful and seemed to know their stuff.

He looked through my record of what had been wrong with me, and what had been done to fix it. He asked when I went in. I told him: February 27th.

He did a double-take. “After going through all that, how can you be sitting here like that?” Because, mind you, I was still pretty fresh and energetic.

“I have a good constitution,” I confessed.

Actually, that’s a considerable understatement. I have a titanium constitution. Or you’d be reading this on a Ouija board.

In other news, yet another of the heroic and astonishing friends with whom I’m blessed (trust me, for once that’s not hyperbole), Sara M. Harvey, has kindly launched a fund drive on my behalf on her LiveJournal blog, The Merry Adventures of Saraphina. I greatly appreciate this, as I do any contributions. it appears I’m out from under the truly crushing debt; things will till be tight for the next few weeks.

Meanwhile, you should pay attention to Saraphina and her husband Matt Schwartz. Along with being seriously good people, they’re gifted writers and always interesting.

And, pleased to be able to end on a happy note: my water floweth freely once more! Took replacing the old corrodo line, as mentioned. The new one doesn’t look likely to bust anytime soon. So: yay!

Thanks for hanging with me and caring about me. And to my wonderful friends: it can never be adequate, but than you.

Update: Yipes! Ten thousand apologies to Saraphina and her husband Matt, whose last name is Schwartz, not Simmons! Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea great big freakin’ culpa!

Let it snow

Victor — Sat, 20 Mar 2010 15:19:42 +0000

I sit in my seventh floor penthouse room watching the most beautiful snowstorm I’ve ever seen. Fat flakes nudge the window, sometimes floating and fluttering, currently driven. I can see no more than maybe a quarter mile. Snow blankets rooftops and rooflines and flocks the trees.

Welcome to the Equinox, and the first official (bureaucratic) day of Spring, 2010.

And … it’s clearing some. Soon I may once more enjoy the panoramic view east toward the Sandia Mountains and north to Santa Fe which has sustained me the last few days. Although the snow was so wonderful I didn’t resent its intrusion.

The view’s the only thing I’ll miss about the place in which I find myself, I’ll tell you. I await my imminent return home, with minor anxieties completely supplanted by rising eagerness.

Obviously, in the more than a month I’ve been offline, serious stuff has seriously happened.

Let me just laugh a bitter laugh at the irony of my last blog post: hah. I knew not of sickness or tiredness, naive child that I was.

More anon.

Sick and tired…

Victor — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 07:28:54 +0000

… of being sick and tired.

In a way it’s kind of reassuring, though, realizing I’ve picked up some kind of bug. It explains why I’ve been so extremely tired even days after I finished my Great Rewriting Siege, why in spite of that I’ve been having trouble sleeping, and, oh, yeah, why I’ve had an upset stomach the last couple days.

It still sucks, of course.

I’m not terribly sick. What’s worst is it’s just enough to make it hard to focus mentally. Which is making it hard to do the other urgent rewriting I need to do. Bitch.

So right directly I’m going to just go and try to get to sleep, see if I can make it a decent sleep. And get a running start on the morrow.

Oh – you may have recently seen something about recent claims that, not only are birds not descended from dinosaurs, but dinosaurs might be descended from birds. Here’s an interesting and persuasive smackdown to that idea, delivered courtesy of Smithsonianmag.com‘s Dinosaur Tracking blog.

Bubonicon starts tomorrow!

Victor — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 22:34:26 +0000

If you are or can reasonably contrive to be in the Greater Albuquerque area tomorrow, Friday, August 28^th, this is all ye know and all ye need know!

Beam this one up, Scotty. I'll be in my cabin.

(Photo courtesy of baaadasssscomics.)

But just because you’re you, and I’m swell, I’ll give you more info.

How’s about Guest of Honor: author/screenwriter Michael Cassutt; Toastmistress: CARRIE VAUGHN, best-selling author (and both of them are Wild Cards mafiosi); Guest Artist: the wildly popular PERI CHARLIFU, pottery and graphic artist.

But wait – there’s more!

As I never tire of saying, no matter how much you may tire of hearing me say it, New Mexico is the Science Fiction and Fantasy Capital of the Known Universe. And plenty of our galaxy of local stars (see what I did there?) will be on hand, plus many talented out-of-towners, including but far from limited to: Daniel Abraham, Mario Acevedo, Richard Berthold, Adam Jarmon Brown, Suzy M. Charnas, Douglas W. Clark, Yvonne Coats, Terry England, Diana Gabaldon, Gordon Garb, Steven Gould, Sally Gwylan, Betsy James, Dean Judd, Ed Khmara, Andy Kuhn, Jane Lindskold, Nathan Long, Emily Mah, George RR Martin, Gail G. Miller, John Jos. Miller, Laura J. Mixon, Pati Nagle, Charles & Tauni Orndorff, Scott Phillips, John Maddox Roberts, Joan Spicci Saberhagen, Debbie Lynn Smith, Melinda M. Snodgrass, Jan & S.M. Stirling, David Lee Summers, Pari Noskin Taichert, Tentaclecraft, Ian Tregillis, Robert Vardeman, Nancy V. Varian, Gerald Weinberg, Walter Jon Williams and Connie Willis. Also many of our weird and wonderful local fen will be there.

And not last, and damned well not least either, me. For my schedule, please visit the calendar page of my Forum.

For my reading, Sunday at 1:00 PM in the Vista Norte room by the restaurant – all 35 golden minutes of it – I’ll be doing all-new material. It’s unseen by human eyes (just mine.) Expect dinosaurs to be involved. Plus hot babes. (Sadly, just in the story, not in the flesh. My promotion budget’s still a tad tight.)

For more info, hit the Bubonicon page. Thanks! Hope to see you there.

Unrelated odd bits: when I ask Emma Dog if she wants to go outside, and she gets up on the couch and lies determinedly down with her head on her pillow, I’m gonna take that as a no.

Also: clearly I haven’t gotten to the post I’ve been promising about seeking behavior. It’s not likely to happen before next week, either. Sorry.

Stuff happens

Victor — Sun, 17 May 2009 22:20:38 +0000

Now there’s a snappy blog post title. I am the King of SEO!

Okay. Maybe not. Under the circumstances, it’s as close an approximation to a snappy title as I can muster. Deal.

First, though: enjoy the swell cartoon above, courtesy of Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal. Thanks to haikubica for turning me onto SMBC when I mentioned at his and Kathy’s house that I was becoming obsessed with webcomics.

I have some I follow religiously; also have some book recommendations. But later: this post is really all about me. Me, me, me.

Fa-sol-la-ti-da!

So I am, yes, punch-drunk; thank you so much for noticing. Thursday night I finished the draft of my new Deathlands novel. I sent it off Friday, meeting my deadline thereby, with mention that it still wanted a finishing pass, which I am process of accomplishing now. (Well, not now now. You know what I mean.)

Hooray!

Also, there is Big News on the Wild Cards horizon. First, the very first anthology, imaginatively titled Wild Cards (hey, it was imaginative then!) is about to be reprinted. But that’s not all: this new edition contains three all new stories, by grizzled Wild Cards vets Michael Cassutt and Carrie Vaughn (okay, it just amuses me to refer to Carrie as a “grizzled vet”), as well as newcomer David D. Levine. David won the Hugo Award for Best Short Story for “Tk’tk’tk.” Which oddly was on my to-read queue – trying to get into reading short stories – when David’s entrance into the Wild Cards crew was announced.

But wait – there’s more. News which actually pertains directly to me. (Wait – I thought this was all supposed to be about me! I ripped myself off! Dang!)

There is also a brand-new Wild Cards anthology in the works. It’s entitled Fort Freak. It features stories by hoary WC old-timers like Stephen Leigh, Melinda M. Snodgrass, Kevin Andrew Murphy, John Jos. Miller – and me! (Since Melinda never reads this blog I totally don’t have to worry about her kicking my ass for referring to her as a “hoary old-timer.”)

There’re also some who are newly-infected with Xenovirus Takis-A contributing to this volume: Cherie Priest, David Anthony Durham, Paul Cornell, and Mary Anne Mohanraj.

For more information on the new additions to the WCverse, click on this link and this one to That American Tolkien Dude’s Not A Blog.

In one week I sold a new story and finished a novel. I’d call that pretty cool.

So, contrary to what you probably believe, I have not been frittering away all my time on webcomics and Twitter. Oh, no, my friends. Not even close.

(By the way, you might want to check out Cherie Priest and David D. Levine on Twitter, too; I follow ‘em. If any of the other Carders I mentioned above are on there, they’re successfully hiding from me. So far.)

Along with averaging north of 6000 words a day on my novel – so my mad time-management skills are more mad than actually skillful – I wrote a lengthy detailed story proposal for my as-yet-untitled contribution to Fort Freak. Plus, I wrote four new character bios: two for characters that have actually been around since the early days of Wild Cards and are coming back into play (they had bios; it’s just that they’ve been lost, plus there’s twenty years worth of history to catch up on), and two for the brand-new characters I’m using in my yarn. Both of whom, I’ll add, are jokers without an ace power to their names. Although that’s not to say one or more may not enjoy certain advantages.

All of which may have something to do with why I’m so damned fried today despite having slept until one minute before one in the afternoon. Y’think?

Shakin’ it up

Victor — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 22:48:16 +0000

I’m not doing enough. Not writing enough, not exercising enough. Not creating enough pleasure in my life. Not getting enough juice out of life, as Tony Robbins puts it.

Also I’m not getting younger, fuck it anyway. I truly believe that in the very near future our lives – that’s productive, vigorous, joyous life, not having my rotting husk kept in a terrible semblance of life by artificial intervention – will be extended greatly, possibly indefinitely, by the explosion of knowledge in the medical sciences which is already in progress. Even if I can potentially live another ten years, another hundred, another ten thousand, I am not guaranteed so much as my next breath. Nor is anyone. And nor can anyone ever be.

So I need to get cracking. I am philosophically a hedonist. I believe the purpose of life is to experience as much fun-pleasure-joy as one possibly can. I also believe we can only share what we have; and that inevitably we do share what we have. So by creating and enjoying pleasure for myself I bring it into the world.

Better that than more fucking misery. That’s my belief.

My greatest pleasure is creating, particularly – aw, you guessed it – writing. My consuming vice is fear, and I know which one: fear of criticism. And my most destructive habit is denying myself pleasure.

If that seems strange to you, I’ll probably bore you at endless length about it. Later.

Over the years I’ve amassed a great many tools to live and create more productively – hence, joyously. The kick is getting myself to use them. I’m good at talking myself out of them, subconsciously if nothing else – a phenomenon I’ve dubbed The Evil Habit.

So now I need to give myself a kick in the ass.

I need to write at least 3000 words a day to deliver my Deathlands novel on deadline. I already know how I write best: balls out.

I also know I can use Twitter to waste time or achieve wonderful things.

So here’s what I’m gonna do come Monday (Sunday’s task is something else – needful and productive, not germane.)

Commit to a minimum 3000 words a day.
Write in pulses of at least 1000 words each.
Time myself to see how fast I can crank out 1K – make a game of it!
Announce to the world via Tweet when I start and my goal – thus publicly committing myself.
Post updates when I break from each pulse.
Obviously, contrive to sit my butt down for a minimum of three happy, balls-to-the-wall pulses!

And what I’m doing here – you’ve no doubt guessed – is a form of the above: committing myself to make it harder to get out of.

It’s experimental. It’s a good experiment, though: think it has potential to serve me well. And of course I can fiddle with and fine tune it to make it serve better. (So screw that nasty old fear of criticism, eh?)

I’m excited. You?

So now: finish getting ready, let in the Em, give her her treat, gather up my Big Pot o’ Red Chile Pumpkin Soup, and hie myself hence to ASFS stalwart Kevin Hewett‘s townhouse way to Christ and gone on the West Side for our long-awaited Zombie Movie Night. Yay!

The sweet smell of (surprise) success

Victor — Tue, 17 Jun 2008 08:04:20 +0000

It’s not a cliché if it’s literally true, right?

I’d resigned myself to not having honeysuckle blossoms – with their attendant wonderful aroma – of my own this year. I was prepared to be content with the fact that both the honeysuckles I’ve got in the ground, the store-bought one and the one I coaxed into rooting myself from a clipping, seemed established and thriving. I had originally been going to buy one that already had flowers on it, but decided it didn’t look too healthy, and instead picked a more robust-appearing, but flowerless, plant.

Then Saturday afternoon I went out to check on the honeysuckles and discovered two yellow flowers toward the top of the storebought vine. They didn’t broadcast their smell very far, but they definitely had it – that honeysuckle scent I’ve longed for for such a long time.

It’s a big thing for me. I love the smell of honeysuckle; it’s probably my favorite scent. I’ve really wanted my own for years – the whole 21 years I’ve been in my house. I’ve tried in the past to grow them but despite the legendary hardiness of the plants mine died.

Now, having researched intently and done things right, mine grow. And I was rewarded with flowers. Flowers I never expected until next year. Yay!

I would’ve mentioned this earlier but I had no landline phone service over the weekend, hence no Internet. Fortunately, the repair guy arrived within two hours of my calling today and got me back in business. Of course this enables me to upset myself and waste my life online…

Speaking of which … I was looking at this Spanish-language blog on Agorism. I’m back to studying Spanish again, and as with the gardening (and, it pleases me to report, various other areas in my life) actually sticking it and making progress, however sporadic. Although my vocabulary isn’t huge, I read it pretty well; it’s my listening comprehension which lacks.

Anyway, I found an unfamiliar word, which wasn’t a great surprise. In Firefox I supposedly have a Spanish-English dictionary plug-in installed – which, unlike my English dictionary plug-in, I’ve never gotten to work. Anyway, in a transport of optimism, I highlighted the word and right-clicked it. Up came a context menu with an option to “translate.” This took me to a laundry list of choices – French to German, Japanese to English – and clicked on the “Spanish-English.” And up popped a definition in Babelfish!

Only … I wasn’t using Firefox. I was using Opera. Specifically the new 9.50, supposedly a significant upgrade.

Whoa! Did Opera do this before? I never realized it. I didn’t even have Javascript enabled (I usually use Opera to browse pages that don’t require Javascript and on which I mostly don’t care about graphics.) Anyway, this is great – exactly what I’ve been hoping for as an online language-learning adjunct. This’ll make it a lot easier to read articles in Spanish without totally losing my train of thought as I fumble through a dead-tree dictionary. Plus Babelfish handles different verb tenses (mostly; although it just choked on “tendrá.” Which I’m pretty sure means “will have,” but I wanted to check.)

So, cool. Now I can fritter my life away reading Spanish-language websites as well as English! Progress!

Oh – the shiny new Firefox 3.0 supposedly releases in a few hours. If the development team’s dreams of mass downloads are realized (allegedly 1.5 million users have vowed to DL the update on opening day) the Internet will slo-o-ow to a crawl. Or if, like me, you’re bound to it-for-dialup, an even greater and more aggravating crawl.

Personally, I plan to wait and see if any really picturesque or horrifying bugs have escaped beta testing before I DL. If you want to jump ahead on into the madness, though, go here.

And in the interests of fairness, you can snag Opera 9.50 here.

And if you don’t want to see really horrifying bugs, under no circumstances click here.

Hummingbird Shadows and a Confused Seagull

Victor — Fri, 13 Jun 2008 23:06:52 +0000

Aren’t hummingbird shadows on the ground a hoot? At first you think they come from something just floating in the air, like the cottonwood cotton that’s starting to drift like snow in the Valley now and give my allergic friends the fits. Then you realize they don’t just drift with the wind, but pause and dart.

I saw that happening as Emma and I were walking on the ditch east of the RGNC this afternoon. I never did see that particular hummingbird. Saw plenty more.

So, how did that story get started that hummingbirds never, and possibly can’t, stop and perch? Somebody mentioned that to me in the last month or so, and I thought about it right off the bat today, as we walked through the leafy tree corridor to the ditch entrance. A hummingbird lit on a branch right over the trail, although it didn’t linger long.

On the surface the belief makes sense: clearly the little bastards have to move around a lot in order to eat vast amounts to keep their furious little metabolisms blazing. And if you spend any time actually watching them, you see fairly quickly that, regardless, it ain’t true. You see them take time outs all the time: on feeders, on tree limbs, on bushes, on wires.

I guess this once again shows we tend not to see what we don’t expect to.

Also, driving the short block from Candy to Veranda to park, I saw a big white bird flying over the RGNC fields. It looked too big and not quite right to be a white pigeon – rock dove – such as you see flying around here a fair amount. I thought maybe it might be a cattle egret, which I have seen in that area, albeit it seems a bit late in the season. It went away to the north.

As we walked north along the ditch it (I’m presuming it was the same big, white bird, since we don’t get them here all that often) flew back over heading south. This time I thought fairly sure it was a gull. It was almost entirely white, with maybe a bit of black at tail and wing tips. This was surprising: we get gulls here, which most people don’t know, so that it startles hell out of ‘em when they do happen to spot the birds. Or make people think they’re crazy, as several have remarked to me.

While I won’t say they’re not crazy the fact is we do get gulls here. But it’s usually in late winter, like mid-February. And they don’t stay long. Most people don’t see them because, big surprise, they tend to stay close to the river. And when they move away it’s generally to congregate at dumps and landfills, also a mighty shock. Mostly, I suspect that on the rare occasions folks spot them they pass them off as hallucinations, or anyway white doves. Sea gulls are associated with the sea, right? Albuquerque is high desert, which is associated with not-sea, right? About the opposite of sea. Ergo, no seagulls here. QED.

See above on what people don’t tend to see.

So then as we headed back south, here it came north again. The wings didn’t look quite right for a gull: they seemed broader and rounder and not so distinctly angled. Yet the bird was close enough I could see it didn’t seem to have a long neck tucked against its body, nor was it trailing conspicuous long legs, which seems to let out a heron or egret or other wading bird. So I have to say a gull it probably was.

Avoiding, for once, the obvious labored pun about “see gulls” – you can thank me later – I’ll point out that it was a very pleasant summer day here in Burque. It was hot but not terribly hot, especially in the shade. By some mad coincidence, that particular route is fairly plentifully equipped with shade. Also there was a touch of a breeze, which helped. And the humidity’s been way low – like 4-9% up where they actually measure it, and not too much higher right down here by the RG. Which of course makes it less oppressive.

But it turned out not to be as hot as I expected. I came home and Weatherscan claimed it was 84°. It’s usually a few degrees higher down here in the Valley in summertime, as it’s a few degrees lower in the winter.

But they’ve been claiming for days it was going to be verging upon brutal: 96° for a high. Even though I was out from about 2 to 3 in the afternoon that seems unlikely to happen by the time temps max out around 5 or 6. I doubt it’ll crack 90. Once again the predictors appear to’ve messed up.

But they can predict climate patterns perfectly fifty years in the future. Also, pigs fly.

Another delightful thing I saw was big ruby dragonflies skimming right along the ditch, just above the water’s surface. They seem to come out for a very short time: I first noticed them about, ahem, twenty years ago – a year after I moved into the house, if I recall correctly – when a lady friend came to visit and we went down to frolic in the river. then as now it wasn’t much of a river, but she wasn’t wearing much of a bikini, either, so it had its compensations. Anyway, we had these big bright red dragonflies zooming all around us. They were astonishing: shiny scarlet all over, wings, eyes, bodies, everything. I hadn’t seen them before.

Until today I hadn’t seen them since. I apparently haven’t been in the right place during what I can only guess is the two to three week window they’re active. I see lots of dragonflies in the course of a summer. There are some that I seem to recall appear mostly in later summer that have drab bodies but red wings. I had about talked myself into believing these were really what we saw, in spite of the fact, we’d gotten pretty close and prolonged looks at the incredible ruby dragonflies, until I saw some again at last today.

So that’s pretty special, right there. Living ruby dragonflies. Indeed do many things come to pass.

Emma meets a caped crusader

Victor — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 23:59:12 +0000

Emma and I were walking back down the ditch on the return leg of our walk this afternoon when on the far bank I saw an older Latino guy in a white straw cowboy hat, jeans and a Western shirt coming the other way. That type isn’t superabundant here in the central RGV, but up in northern New Mexico everybody’s grand-dad looks like that. Behind him tottered a four-year-old boy in red shirt and blue shorts – and also a black cape, a Batman mask, and, somewhat inexplicably, carrying a plastic sword.

I did a double-take. It ws so incongruous at first I thought the kid was wearing a black devil mask. Then the older guy said, “I found this caped crusader wandering behind me along the ditch.”

That was so splendid I had to laugh with delight. I’m afraid the lad misinterpreted that as showing disrespect, for he held high his sword and declared, with fierce conviction, “I’m Batman!”

Yes. Yes, you are. Emma stared at him as if he were Ziggy Stardust complete with the Spiders from Mars. I had to hustle her along lest the caped crusader wreak dreadful retribution on us.

A little farther on I tawt I taw a Harrier flying over the ditch. Not this:

But this:

Not pictured: Gamera

Nature actually put in an appearance early in our walk in the form of a dead mourning dove lying by the path along the southern fence of the Río Grande Nature Center. Fortunately Emma evinced no interest in it. I couldn’t tell what killed it; as common as fat, complacent doves have become around here the last few years I’m amazed the skies above aren’t black with fat, complacent hawks at the all-you-can-eat dove bar. Or maybe the ground thick with fat, complacent hawks dining like azhdarchids, those scary ground-feeding giant pterosaurs who’re so much in the news lately.

Emma frequently took to the water. I was surprised at an early stop to see her disappear to her neck, which she apparently accomplished by the simple expedient of sitting down. She’s getting braver about immersion. Maybe someday she’ll actually dare to swim.

At one point we encountered a strong but very pleasant smell like garlic, or maybe onions. Perhaps somebody’s growing some of those in the area. Or maybe there was just a horrid chemical spill nearby that will presently turn my lungs to bubbling yellow goo. I guess we’ll have to see what comes out my nose later.

Also, just before we encountered the caped crusader and his grandpa, I saw a couple of big swallows wheeling maybe 30-40 feet over the ditch. They were so big I should probably even call them “gulps.”

By the way – there’s actually a Pterosaur Database online. How excellent is that?

All in all, an eventual outing. As the late, great Roberts Shea and Anton Wilson wrote in their wonderful Illuminatus! Trilogy, “Indeed do many things come to pass.”