This is the blog of Sarah Monette/Katherine Addison, a professional writer of horror, fantasy, and science fiction. Sarah Monette is my real name; Katherine Addison is a pen name, intended to be transparent.
If you've found me here, odds are pretty good you're looking for something to read, so the following is--to the best of my knowledge--a complete list of everything I've written that's available online:( STORIESCollapse )( ESSAYSCollapse )
If you know of anything I've missed, please leave a comment!
So last night I went out on the porch to bring in the food and water bowls I put out for the feralistas. And there was a raccoon.
I learned something instantaneously, which is that I had not known how big raccoons are. I mean, I thought
I knew, but there's a difference between that and being less than ten feet from one, at which point it upgrades immediately to BIG MOTHERFUCKING RACCOON ON MY PORCH.
Happily, the raccoon had no interest in tangling with me. It did what the feralistas do, which is to retreat to the other side of the porch railings and pretend to be invisible. And since I had no interest in tangling with the raccoon, I about-faced and went back inside.
told me that when he checked again, the raccoon was happily making use of the water bowl in exactly the way stereotypes about raccoons would lead you to expect. (Dude, free water! Most excellent!
) And this morning, the water bowl has been moved about a foot--and has significantly less water in it than is usually the case--and someone's busy little paws have peeled half the protective rubber strip off the rim of the food bowl.
I'm going to be more conscientious about bringing the bowls in before sunset and hope the feralistas can keep from tangling with the raccoon. I'm sure it's not new to the neighborhood--possibly it's not new to our porch. But although I have nothing against raccoons, I would really prefer it not become a regular visitor.
(BIG. MOTHERFUCKING. RACCOON.)
1. Yesterday, I wrote letters to Senator Feingold, Senator Kohl, Congresswoman Baldwin, and President Obama (email to the president, paper letters to the legislators) about the oil spill and BP's abhorrent behavior. This is the first time I have ever written a letter to any of my elected representatives, and if it does even a particle of good, I will be passionately grateful.
2. Because my mother-in-law asked, I went out yesterday and took pictures of various portions of the yard: roses, lilies, marigolds, etc. Plus a picture of the Elder Saucepan for lagniappe. Gallery here
3. Last night I managed to get out of the stupid anxiety dream wherein I'm back in high school and failing calculus, but only by turning it into a MUCH WORSE nightmare about undead ghoul/vampire/Fury creatures feuding with each other.
There is no item 4.
Yes, there is! Item 4 is that today is the 66th anniversary of D-Day. I loathe war, but that does not mean I do not honor the bravery of the men who died on the Normandy beaches--and the men who survived. And although I will argue about the necessity of war in almost all circumstances, I have read enough about Hitler to know that in this case, yes, war was the only way to stop him, and he had to be stopped. So, those who died on June 6, 1944, and those who survived to fight on, I am grateful to you and I honor your memory. And those veterans who are still alive, I hope this June 6th is a good day.
5. Have I mentioned that I'm going to be at Fourth Street
? Because I so am! It looks like I'm going to be on two panels (including one that is based on this post
, about which, yes, I would admit to being a bit chuffed), and of course I will be there for the rest of it, too.
(1) I am very near-sighted and very shy, but neither of those means I don't want to talk to you!
(2) Unless I'm late for a panel (or otherwise obviously busy), I'm always happy to sign books.
has a pair of wonderful posts about the oil spill
and what you can do to help
2. The Planckendael Zoo in Belgium has a snow leopard cub
(I particularly recommend the second video, in which Laila demonstrates her ferocity upon a hapless rubber glove.)
3. So in January, the local high school's Future Farmers of America
chapter has a seed sale. Everything they don't sell, they donate to a local small animal welfare group, who then has a plant sale, which I went to this afternoon. I came away with two flats of marigolds, two Wisconsin 55
tomato plants, two Long Thin Cayenne Peppers
, and three (or hopefully four) Chocolate Beauty Peppers
. I spent the afternoon digging a small vegetable garden in the side yard.
I've never tried to grow vegetables before. We'll see what happens.
4. Also! The Anthropophagous Rosebush, the Grandfathered Rosebush, and one of the Cerise Bouquet climbing roses are blooming! So is one of the hydrangeas (and the other is looking happily leafy)! I'm restraining myself from grabbing passersby and dragging them into my yard to admire things. Especially with the Grandfathered Rosebush, which is all but invisible unless you're standing right in front of it, and which is blooming in this FABULOUS deep purplish-red color, the restraint required is greater than you might think.
is amazing, and if I ever get to Australia, I want to see it.
britmandelo discusses The Bone Key
lovingly and with sharp acumen at Tor.com
The evil that grape vines do lives after them.
My life will be a lot easier this summer if I can teach myself not to walk into the Anthropophagous Rosebush.
I need to start writing again. I just wish my brain wasn't so damn empty.
I have a schedule for OddCon
Friday, April 16, 4:30P.M.
: Novel Writing Q&A (come grill an author!)
Saturday, April 17, 10:00 A.M.
: Baseball, Fantasy, and SF (self-explanatory, which is probably good at ten in the morning)
Sunday, April 18, 11:30 A.M.
But I wouldn't want to live there! (dystopian fiction panel)
Sunday, April 18, 1:00 P.M.
Nonhuman & Other Human Protagonists (how to make aliens more than human beings in monster suits)
Addenda: (1) Unless I am about to be late to a panel (or, you know, obviously really busy just then), I am always happy to sign books.
(2) I am very shy and very near-sighted. But that doesn't mean I won't be delighted to talk to you!
I went out and inspected the yard today, to see how we were doing after the ravages of winter. Everything I planted last summer seems to be alive; the irises are putting out green shoots, the hydrangeas have tiny brave green leaves, and the Cerise Bouquet roses, sullen as roses are wont to be, nonetheless are visibly Not Dead. The Grandfathered Rosebush is also Not Dead, although even more sullen, and the Anthropophagous Rosebush is reaching greedily for the sidewalk again. (This is one of the ways we know it's anthropophagous.) I also appreciate the daffodils and crocuses we inherited with the house in a far more proprietary way than has heretofore been the case. (Last summer, it seems like somebody flipped a switch in my head. It's now MY yard instead of something I'm not allowed to mess with because the real owner will be coming back any time now. Hi. Welcome to my head.)
I dragged the huge branch that fell off one of the juniper trees in our big December snowstorm back behind the garage; pruned some deadwood off the roses; cleared several small strips of clear plastic, a food drive flyer, and a Jehovah's Witnesses' pamphlet out of the yard; uprooted the evergreen sprigs that seem to think we need a hedge along the front sidewalk; despaired over the state of the parkway; raked last year's detritus out of the odd little bed between the back door and the cyclone door where the ferns thrive like thriving things; cut down two saplings ditto; and cleared the grass back from the faux-brick stepping stones between the garage and the house.
It's still a post-winter mess, but that's what March is for. And the crocuses are purple and valiant.
ME: [grubs about in side yard]
BEAGLE NEXT DOOR: [staring between the slats of the fence] Ahem.
ME: [looks up]
BEAGLE NEXT DOOR: Made you look! WIKTORY!
[Beagle Next Door begins triumphal rendition of the 3,972nd verse of "Lord, It's Hard to be a Beagle"]
[Puggle Next Door joins in on harmony]
[both dogs careen around their yard like fools, awoowoowoo-ing their heads off]
[I go back to gardening]
1. Dave Freer could use some help. He and his family are emigrating from South Africa to Australia, and their definition of "family" rightly includes their dogs and cats. As Dave says in his FAQ:They had always been part of moving budget: we’re selling our home to do this, and will have to start afresh in Australia. The part we didn’t figure on was currency fluctuation and quarantine costs. Thus we have some money towards moving them, but simply not nearly enough.
Dave is putting his novel Save the Dragons
up on the web, a chapter at a time on the Scheherazade model, to raise the necessary money. Waltz over to the website
to read and/or donate.
2. Also, while I'm here, I missed Outer Alliance
Pride Day--not in any sort of deliberate fashion, but because I've fallen into a hermit-like hole. I can, just about, nag myself into making posts, but keeping up, even with my minuscule reading list, has become more than I can cope with. I've probably missed a lot more than Outer Alliance Pride Day.
So anyway, yeah, Outer Alliance. Support thereof. A story of mine featuring queer characters.
3. Instead of the internet--or actual work--I've been conducting guerrilla warfare with various parts of the yard. Started with the Anthropophagous Rosebush, cleared the sidewalks of encroaching sod, cleared some breathing room for the Grandfathered Rosebush, removed dozens of tiny maple seedlings. I like gardening when it's a full-contact sport.
4. We have thought for years that the big green thing in the back yard was a flourishing bush, but closer inspection reveals a tree stump: the "bush" is a thicket of saplings. My question, revealing my complete lack of woodsy lore: what kind of tree is it?ETA:
It's the rootstock
of an apple tree.( Name That TreeCollapse )
Yes, that's me in the second picture. Photography by mirrorthaw
5. I mentioned Peter Mulvey
's new CD, right?
Things learned while gardening today:
1. I'm a much better gardener if you give me a task. "Go out and garden" does nothing for me. "Go out and slaughter all the grape vines you can reach" does.
2. If you have an Anthropophagous Rosebush, you let the grape vines co-habitate with it at your peril.
3. ZOMG! We have BERRIES! Blackberries, I think, but my woodsy lore is so stunted and vestigial that they might as easily be the rare and deadly cyanideberry for all I know. (No, we will not be eating them unless we get a positive ID.) They are also co-habitating with the Anthropophagous Rosebush, which explains why I have lived in this house for five years without knowing they're there. One leafy aggressive thing with thorns is much like another to me, unless one of them is actually, you know, fruiting
4. I need better gardening gloves. Or possibly gauntlets.
5. The only thing that can be said in praise of Virginia creeper is that it is not as macho as the grape vines.
Update on the Cerise Bouquet
climbers, for any rosaphiles who care: both bushes seem to have survived the trauma of being planted. One of them died back quite a bit, but it has surviving branches (is branch the right word?), the largest of which happens to be the branch which has found the trellis. The other bush seems to be doing fine. So a round of applause for my rose bushes, please. They're making the best of a bad lot.
ETA: I am charmed to discover, by following links from the HelpMeFind.com page, that the nursery founded (in 1906) by the man who created the Cerise Bouquet is (a.) in Schleswig-Holstein, (b.) still in operation, and (c.) on the web
(German-language only, despite the splash page being in English, but the pictures are lovely).
::is great big sparkly geek::