Last night, G took me to Musashino for dinner (I highly recommend the asparagus roll) and then went on to the lobby lounge at the Four Seasons to watch the bats fly and listen to the pianist sing. It felt perhaps a bit ambitious, health-wise, but I can now swallow with only minimal discomfort. I'm also significantly less cranky.
Lots of glamorous writer to-dos are now to-done: My autographed copy of Supergirl by NFM is now on my shelf. My laundry from VC is sorted into piles. I just packaged up and sent a copy of Rain Is Not My Indian Name (Listening Library, 2001) on audio to a Native radio station in Toronto that has requested permission to air it. I also sent an email inviting Austin area friends to G's signing of Tofu and T. rex (Little Brown, 2005) at 2 p.m. Aug. 27 at B&N Round Rock. And I wrote a rec letter for a first-rate writer. Must get comics, folders to organize my students, and check the P.O. Box.
Maker of Atkins diets files for bankruptcy from MSN Money. Just desserts, says Cyn.