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breeden
ursulav

Rain at last!

Poured rain last night, re-filling the water barrels (one of which was getting rather nervously low, and the other of which I couldn’t use because it was full of tadpoles.) Thank god. We needed rain. (Not as badly as the Midwest does, but badly enough. Some of my newer plants were growing crispy-fried in the yard.)

Figuring that it was August, and I had just finished a novella (or maybe a novel, I don’t know, it may grow in editing)  I went off to the one Really Big Nursery and took advantage of their huuuuge sale on annuals to get a couple of flats by way of celebration.

Some of you in other climes are undoubtedly staring at the screen going “Planting annuals in AUGUST?” Dude. Last year we had asters flowering in JANUARY. I had a couple of annual verbenas actually overwinter. August is barely halfway through the season. So I got some interesting cuphea, which is a tropical critter that can handle our pitiless humidity and a bunch of native annual sages, plus a couple of annual coreopsiseses. And I had a pleasant morning planting them all out in a light rain.

Now, back to the grindstone…

Originally published at Squash's Garden. You can comment here or there.


breeden
ursulav

Well, crap.

Apparently I need to submit a hi-rez author photo to the Hugo committee for the ceremony, where I guess they flash all our photos on a wall or something.

This is kind of a problem.

There’s a reason I use the painting my mother did of me as my author bio. I look like a tattooed hippopotamus to the camera. (I am reliably informed that I am rather less so in person, because I am extremely animated most of the time, but you freeze frame that sucker and the results Do Not Flatter.)

The only really good photo of me ever taken was about an inch high and Kevin got it on his cel phone at a Mexican restaurant. There’s an adequate one that a friend took ages past, which is what Penguin uses, which I suppose I will wind up using, as they want it by Saturday and I have no real chance of setting up a pro photo shoot by then.  (And YES, I have been thinking for months I need to find someone to take some pro shots of me and get the bloody thing done so I’ve got something flattering to use for the book jackets, but I didn’t and now I pay the price and Kevin says I’m not allowed to turn down the nomination because they want a photo.)

ARRRGGH.


ETA: Let me add that this isn’t a body image issue, per se—I gots no problem with mirrors. I pass them and go “Awwwww, yeah!” as often as not.  I’m not a small mammal by any stretch, but large chunks of me are built like the proverbial brick dollhouse, and I’m not complaining.

Sadly lots of things that are fine on a moving, gesticulating individual go really bad if you take a photo under all but the most aggressively controlled lighting.

ETA2: A buddy of Kevin's has been enlisted to try and help. I will buy him any dinner he asks. Meanwhile, checking to see if I can just use art at the Hugos.

Originally published at Tea with the Squash God. You can comment here or there.