Good morning!

I am awake and dressed and at work and all of my body parts are functioning normally and pain-free.  I therefore expect to fall off of a ladder later today.  I do not intend to climb a ladder but I will find a way to fall off one anyway.

Here is a picture of a bird I rescued from the store yesterday.  His name is Bird because I am not very creative.

In which I defend myself against something no one accused me of, and other bits of nonsense

510Cy7ZwEHL._SX338_BO1,204,203,200_I watch a lot of Hulu, right?  Lately we’ve been binging all of Scrubs, which means that generally if the television is on in my house and there isn’t some sort of childrens’ programming on that’s probably what we’re watching. Hulu’s been promoing this program lately that appears to be about a fat old rich white guy who gets accused of rape.

Be it known to the world at large: at this particular point in my life I find it really fucking difficult to arouse any sympathy for old rich white men accused of rape, and I sure as shit am not interested in watching television programs that cast said old rich white men as the victims.  Can I just fucking watch Scrubs, please?  Maybe advertise other light comedies?  And not this show, like, ever again?  Thanks.

A warning: this part of the post is going to be kind of ill-formed and unfinished, as it’s still a work in progress in my brain and I’m not at all sure how I feel about any of it, so don’t expect me to come to any  conclusions.  I had a dream the other day where a former student (and I am one hundred percent certain that she will both see this and know who she is) sat across a table from me and lectured me about representation and cultural appropriation in my work.  I’ve been reading a lot about both issues lately (the recent spate of articles about the whitewashing of Nnedi Okorafor’s The Shadow Speakers is only the newest example) and as someone who has actually written a science fiction book and deliberately made sure to get the black woman on the cover it’s kind of an important issue to me.

So, yeah, here’s the thing: I’ve got two books in the works right now featuring women of color as the leads.  The lead race in my fantasy series is matriarchal.  And my short stories tend to feature non-stereotypically-western cultures.  I’m not good enough about writing LGBT+ characters but when you come down to it there are precious few straight relationships in my books either for some reason.

I do not write this to be awarded cookies. I don’t want cookies.  In fact, I’m starting to wonder if I’m approaching all this the right way at all.  Do me a favor, and go read this, and then read this.

I’m torn as hell on this and still thinking about it.  But it’s on my mind at the moment.

I leave for Denver in, like, three days.  I am still not looking forward to it.  At all.

Just checking, pt. 2

200w.gifOccasionally I have reason to call customers that have been in my store but I haven’t actually sold something to.  Sometimes it’s because they’ve asked me to keep an eye out for something for them and I’ve seen a piece I think they’ll like.  Sometimes it’s because something they were thinking about buying has gone on sale and I’m hoping I can convince them to come in and buy.

Actually it’s pretty much just those two reasons.

So this guy came in two weekends ago with his two kids and his wife.  He’d been in at least twice with one of the boys previously, and I’d talked to him both times pretty much by pure coincidence.  He and his son picked out five thousand dollars worth of bedroom furniture.  Five thousand dollars of fairly ridiculously ornate furniture.

For a fifteen-year-old.  We’ll lay that aside for the moment.

At any rate, they didn’t buy.  Dad said he’d be back “tomorrow” with cash and I sent them with a quote.  And they didn’t show the next day, which isn’t entirely surprising.  It happens.  But I had his phone number, so when we had an “everything on sale” thing going this weekend I called him and let him know I could save him some money.  Left a message.  Today was the last day of that sale, so I thought I’d leave one more message for him.

He answered the phone.  I said who I was and where I was from.

“I’m with a patient right now,” he said.  “I’ll have to call you back.”

252-word leadup to this question: what the fuck kind of doctor keeps his cell phone on while he’s meeting with patients, much less answers it when he doesn’t recognize the number?  Have any of you ever had a doctor answer a goddamn cell phone while you were with him?  That’s fucked up, right?  I’m not crazy here?

He didn’t call me back, by the way.