“Who’s a good drummer?” asked Maddie, climbing onto the couch and examining the Rock Band drums.
“This guy,” I answered, pointing to the TV. “Keith Moon.”
“I know who he is,” pouted Maddie. “You play this disc a lot. This is the Who.” She looked up at the TV for a bit, as Moon the Loon joked about going backstage to overdose. I cringed. “I think he tries too hard to be funny. Who else?”
I closed the file I’d been working on, then the laptop itself. “Who else what?”
“Who else is a good drummer?” asked Maddie.
I scratched my head. I thought about saying “Ringo Starr,” but changed my mind. “Martin Chambers.”
Maddie cocked her head to one side. “Who’s he?”
“He plays drums for the Pretenders. First band I ever saw live. Unless you count my cousin’s band when they played the Del Mar Fair. I guess that makes the Pretenders the second band I ever saw live. Anyway, that’s Don. You’ve met him. He’s a drummer too. And so’s Dustin, Don’s son. He’s in Afghanistan.”
“Is that a band?”
“Is what a band?”
“Afghanistan.”
“No. That’s a country.”
“Oh… wow.” Maddie scratched an ear thoughtfully. “He plays drums for a whole country?”
“Well, no. He’s a Marine.” I tugged my beard thoughtfully. “But it’s an arguably good metaphor.”
Maddie wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to talk about metaphors,” she snorted. “I want to know about drummers. All the drummers you mentioned are boys.”
“So you want to know about girl drummers?”
“Sheesh,” shrugged Maddie. “Duh.”
“Okay, Moe Tucker.”
“No, girl drummers. Moe is a boy’s name.”
“Hang on, Maddie. Moe—short for Maureen—was the drummer for the Velvet Underground.”
“Okay. Who else?”
“Gina Shock from the Go-Gos, Meg White from the White Stripes. There’s a bunch. Why are you so curious about drummers, anyway?”
“I always wanted to be a drummer. I bet I’m a real good drummer.” Maddie leaned forward, sniffing at the Rock Band drum set, tail wagging. “I bet I am.” She looked back at her wagging tail, as if surprised. “Hey, I’ve even got a built-in metronome.”
“You want me to turn on the game?”
“Would you?”
“Sure. But we’ve had this thing for, like, a year. How come you weren’t interested before?”
“I couldn’t reach the drums before. Here by the couch, I can.”
I swapped discs, plugged in USB cables, and navigated through menus. Maddie picked out a song, then looked up at me, grinning.
“Okay,” said Maddie. “I’m ready to rock and roll. One question, though.”
“What’s that?”
“What are the sticks for, anyway?”
Needless to day, I'll be posting pictures throughout the week (Will I manage to get any embarrassing pictures of Neil Gaiman playing quarters in a hotel restroom? Stay tuned!). And thoroughly missing Jennifer and Maddie. And cursing Rogers Communications for imposing a $.69/minute roaming charge on my cell phone.
But on the plus side, at least Maddie and I don't have to do any shipping for the next few days.
"Can I come along?" asked Maddie. "I'd fit in your suitcase, if you get rid of most of those clothes. And I'd be a lot of help at the table. When people come over and say 'What a cute little dog,' you can sell them books. What do you say?"
"Nope," I answered, shaking my head. "You've got to take care of Jennifer this week."
"Maybe she can fit in your suitcase too."
I scratched Maddie's ears. "Ain't gonna happen," I said.
"Oh, phooey!" said Maddie.
(Geek points if you get the reference in the subject line. Bonus geek points if you're singing along.)
Anyway, here's a quick run-down of our recent arrivals (available NOW at better bookstores near you):
The Collected Fantasies of Clark Ashton Smith, Volume Four: The Maze of the Enchanter
The Shadow Pavilion, by Liz Williams
The Lees of Laughter's End, by Steven Erikson
Mall of Cthulhu, by Seamus Cooper
Bar None, by Tim Lebbon
Prador Moon, by Neal Asher
Precious Dragon, by Liz Williams
The King's Daughters, by Nathalie Mallet
Moon Flights, by Elizabeth Moon
Mass Market Paperbacks!
Implied Spaces, by Walter Jon Williams
Passage at Arms, by Glen Cook
After the Downfall, by Harry Turtledove
Balefires, by David Drake
All our Mass Market Paperbacks to date (spines up):
Ice, Iron and Gold, by S. M. Stirling
Lightbreaker, by Mark Teppo
The Demon and the City, by Liz Williams
Snake Agent, by Liz Williams
Balefires, by David Drake
Passage at Arms, by Glen Cook
Implied Spaces, by Walter Jon Williams
The Princes of the Golden Cage, by Nathalie Mallet
The King's Daughters, by Nathalie Mallet
Moon Flights, by Elizabeth Moon
Precious Dragon, by Liz Williams
Prador Moon, by Neal Asher
After the Downfall, by Harry Turtledove
The Best Science Fiction and Fantasy of the Year, Volume Three, edited by Jonathan Strahan
Incandescence, by Greg Egan*
The Swordbearer, by Glen Cook
"So what are you waiting for?" wonders Maddie. "Go buy some books!"
---
* Wow, I posted about the hardcover release of Incandescence exactly one year ago. This Trade Paperback edition features all-new cover copy, and we were able to fix a couple of the hardcover's glitches.
During a lull in the action, I’d excused myself to run the afternoon’s mail back to the folks in the back of the building, leaving Maddie to watch the store. But when I made it back up front a matter of minutes later, she wasn’t on the couch where I’d left her. I glanced behind the counter, looked in the office, and checked the beds before scrutinizing the very front of the store.
“Hey,” called Maddie as I walked near the front door. “Do you wanna buy a book? We’ve got a bunch of good books, and we’re making crazy deals.” She’d stationed herself beneath the front sale table, comfortable on the We Eat Like Pigs welcome mat underneath. “You buy one book at full price, and you get the second one for free. Free! How could you resist a bargain like that? And we’ve even got a cool sign.”
“It’s only me, Maddie.” I bent down to her level. “But that was a pretty good sales pitch. Are you comfortable?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “It’s comfy. And it’s hard to tell from just legs. But now that you mention it, I should have recognized your boots. They need polishing.”
I shrugged. “Any customers while I was in back?”
“Just one. A police dog, Officer Rex. He dropped off a flyer.” She yawned, then nodded toward the counter. “We got started talking, and I was telling him about your other job. He seemed real interested.”
I scratched my chin, pensive. “Maddie, what did you tell Officer Rex that I do?”
“I said you were a bookmaker. Like I said, he seemed really interested…”
“Maddie.”
“What?”
“I’m not a bookmaker.”
“What, you make books, right? I mean, you do other stuff, too, but mostly you guys make books, right?”
“Well, sure, but that’s not the right word. I’m an editor, for a book publisher. Not a ‘bookmaker,’ that’s something else entirely.”
“Oh,” said Maddie, thoughtfully scratching an ear. “So what’s a bookmaker do?”
“A bookmaker is a betting agent. They’re also called ‘bookies.’ If somebody wants to gamble on, say, a horse race, they would place their bet with a bookie.”
Switching ears, Maddie said, “My bad. But why was Officer Rex so interested then?”
“Because with a handful of exceptions, bookmaking is illegal.” I thrust my hands into my pockets. “Oh, boy,” I sighed, then sat down with my head in my hands. “Now I’m going to have to explain myself to a German Shepherd.”
“That’s okay,” said Maddie. “I already took care of it.”
“What’d you do?” I asked, mentally working on my alibi.
“Well, he said something about ‘backup,’ so when he was leaving, just as he was heading out the door, I got a hold of his back leg, kinda like this.” She grabbed the cuff of my pants with her teeth, then stepped backwards, tugging.
In my head, I scratched out one alibi and started working on another. “Maddie--”
She let go of my cuff. “And then you know what I did next?”
I knew the answer couldn’t be good. “What?”
“Once I had a good grip on his leg, he yelped, so I pulled it. I pulled it hard... Just like I’m pulling yours.”
A moment passed. Maddie grinned up at me. “I really had you going, didn’t I? Too bad I don't know any bookies, I'd have won big if I'd bet you'd buy that hook, line, and sinker.”
I shook my head, relieved. “Okay, you got me.”
Maddie chuckled. “That was funny. I'm funny. Maybe I should write a book.”
“Would you give me one for free?”
“I'll make you a deal,” said Maddie, “You buy the first one at full price, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”
"I guess that means you like the horses."
She nodded. "Yeah. They're awesome."
We watched as row after row of horses passed. Three rows in, Maddie's ears perked up and she glanced up at me. "Why are there horses on our street?" she asked. "Hey horses," she called, turning back toward the magnificent beasts. "Where are you going?"
"It's Butter and Egg Day, remember," I replied. We watched as the horses continued queuing up.
"Oh, that would explain all the chickens and stuff at Our Best Friends on Friday. Y'know, that would be the coolest job in the world."
"Our Best Friends?" I responded, confused. "Maddie, you already work over at Our Best Friends."
"No, not that," said Maddie. "Sheesh. I mean the horses."
"You want to be a horse?"
"No, I want to ride a horse. That'd be the coolest."
I chuckled.
"What, I could be a cowgirl," said Maddie. "I could ride a horse."
"You have ridden Champion at Heebe Jeebe."
"That's just not the same," said Maddie.
The horses past, Maddie watched a young man roll a cart up the street in their wake. "What's he doing?" she asked. As if answering, he scraped up a cluster of road apples with his rake and deposited them into his cart. Maddie's gaze narrowed. "Ooooh," she said. "I take it all back. That would be the coolest job in the world."
( More behind the cut... )
Maddie and I were three-quarters of the way through our around-the-block circuit, approaching the corner of 5th and G Streets near Wickersham Park. We paused to let a procession of school kids pass, Maddie watching with fascination as they paraded past. "Where are they headed?" asked Maddie. I shrugged. "They're not heading to my house, are they?"
I shook my head. "No chance of that, Maddie," I said.
"Oh good," said Maddie. "I'm not in the mood for a party today."
"Yeah, me neither." I bent down, scratched her head as the last kids passed, a pair of girls linked arm-in-arm with a youngish teacher.
We let them get a bit further ahead, then started down the street, Maddie pausing to sniff and point things out as we ambled along. "Check out that bug. Hello, Bug," she'd say, looking down, or "Hello, Crow," she'd say, looking up. I'd nod in acknowledgment, not really paying attention, then prod her back to moving along. Midway down the block, as the kids began to disappear into the middle distance, Maddie stopped. "Hello, scared little dog," she said.
I stopped. "What dog?" I asked.
"There," said Maddie, pointing with her paw. "Next to... er... Under that car."
I bent low. Sure enough, shivering underneath a parked car was a terrified Shih-Tzu puppy. "Hi there, little guy," I said.
Maddie stared for a few seconds, then said, "I think she's a she."
"Okay, little girl," I answered, then turned back to the puppy. "You want to come on out of there?" I asked. The puppy just shivered.
"What are we going to do?" asked Maddie. "I think she's lost."
"Looks like she's got a collar," I answered. "Sit here," I pointed to a neighbor's porch. "I'll see if I can coax her out."
Saying and doing are entirely different things, so without going into too much detail, I spent the better part of the next half hour prone on the curb talking to this little dog in a calm voice, treat in hand, hoping to bribe her to safety, as Maddie offered helpful hints from the sidelines. At one point, the little refugee got nearly close enough for me to grab her collar, but I fumbled, spooking her into running to hide under the next car up the street. Fortunately, that one was a big, American SUV instead of a tiny import, so I was better able to crawl under, catch the puppy by the collar, and lead her out into the light.
One task accomplished, a new complication reared its ugly head. Collar, but no tags. As I held the little dog, feeding it bits of jerky, I wondered what I was going to do with this dog, particularly since I needed to head down to the office. So I wandered from door to door, ringing doorbells, asking "Do you know this dog" to the neighbors that were 1) home on a weekday morning, and 2) willing to answer their doorbells. No luck, though a couple of my cooler neighbors offered to keep an eye on her for a bit. I called Jennifer for wifely advice, then called Stephanie at Our Best Friends, asking if anybody had dropped off a "Lost Dog" sign in the last day or so. Still no luck.
So we went back to the house, and Maddie babysat (barking all sorts of rules and admonitions to the new arrival, hoping to keep her in check) as I got the rest of the way ready to drive down to work. I figured we'd drive around looking to see if anybody was out looking for a missing dog, or if any telephone poles had been newly decorated with fliers.
But then my doorbell rang. Standing there was my neighbor, owner of a Dachshund named Herc (short for Hercules, a bit of a wanderer himself, Herc has a habit of taking himself for walks). The neighbor explained that the puppy was his visiting sister's dog. I handed the dog over, followed my neighbor out to the sidewalk and within a few moments, his sister approached. My neighbor headed back to his car and drove away, and I stood awhile chatting with his sister (as the now-happy puppy planted kisses all over her face). The little refugee was Lola, who had been left in the back yard with Herc, and had likely decided that she'd had enough of Dachshund attention and shimmied under the fence, planning to take her chances with the big, wide world. I'm sure the parade of kids (who, surprisingly didn't notice a little dog hiding under a car) panicked Lola, leading to my difficulties in luring her out to safety.
But it's a happy ending. Lola is back with her human, and Maddie and I managed to get to work before eleven.
Late yesterday afternoon, once we got home from work, I sat with Maddie on the back porch, talking with her about the day. "So what did you think of Lola, Maddie?" I asked.
"Why?" responded Maddie, "Is she coming back over?"
I shook my head. "No, I was just wondering what you'd think of having a little sister, another dog around the house. Would you like that?"
Maddie looked at me suspiciously, considering the question. "Sounds like an awful lot of work," she said.
I scratched her head. "Yeah, you're probably right," I answered.
"Pew, pew," said Maddie, looking out across the deck from the cockpit. "Kaboom." She glanced up at me as I approached. "Got 'em."
"What are you up to there, Mighty Quinn? Seal hunting?" I checked my watch. Nearly five o'clock, dinner time for little dogs.
"Nope," replied Maddie. "I'm flying my rocket ship through the asteroid belt, hunting for giant space scorpions and crab monsters. Besides, I like seals. They're cute. I think I'd like to meet a seal." She paused. "Wait, what did you just call me?"
"'Mighty Quinn,'" I answered. "It's—"
"It's a store downtown," said Maddie, eying me suspiciously. "We walk past there all the time. Why did you just call me a store?"
"I didn't. The Mighty Quinn was a character in an old Bob Dylan song long before it was a store. He's an Eskimo."
"What's an Eskimo?"
"Indigenous peoples of the Great White North," I answered. "They come from Alaska, Siberia, and Greenland. They invented kayaks." I tapped on the boat's hull. "Though the song's really about the actor Anthony Quinn."
"Who's he."
"Zorba the Greek, for one. And he was Zampanò, the Gypsy strong man in La Strada. Oh, and he also played Auda abu Tayi, the leader of the Howeitat in Lawrence of Arabia. You watched that one with me, remember?"
"I think so," said Maddie, like she was trying to fit puzzle pieces together. "So this Quinn guy is from Greenland? And he's the leader of the Weetzie Bats? Or was that the Aquabats? I'm confused."
"Anthony Quinn? No, he's from Chihuahua."
"He's a Chihuahua? Now I'm even more confused."
"From Chihuahua, not a Chihuahua. It's a state in Mexico."
"But I thought you said he was an Eskimo."
I shook my head. "No, Anthony Quinn was an actor. He only played an Eskimo."
"Oh. I think I get it. So do they sell Eskimos at the Mighty Quinn? Or do Eskimos run the place?"
"No, it's a head shop."
"Wait, they sell heads there?" asked Maddie. "That's really weird."
"Never mind that," I said, changing the subject. "You about ready to head home for dinner?"
"Yeah, I guess I am kind of hungry."
"Well then come on, it's dinner time."
"But what about the giant space scorpions?" asked Maddie.
"Don't worry about them," I said. "The asteroid belt's a long way from earth. We'll be fine. You can always come back and hunt them after dinner."
But meanwhile...
I shook my head. “It’s only 9:30, Maddie” I answered. “Come on.”
“But I’m hungry,” said Maddie, sitting down on the welcome matt and scratching an ear to stall. She twitched her button nose. “And it smells good in here. I smell lamb and beef and—” she paused, sniffing at the doorway. “—chicken, I think.”
“Come on,” I said with a tug. I had to admit, the place smelled good. I walked a few feet, then stopped to read the menu posted in the window:
Real Doner (Gyro)
Mediterranean Turkish Food
We do Excellent Catering
Reading the descriptions, Real Doner's Falafal sounded good, Spinach pie and a big Greek salad sounded better, but that ever popular combination, Hummus and Baba Ganouj, sounded best of all.
But Maddie and I walked home toward home. “It’s too early for lunch,” I explained.
“Oh, foo,” said Maddie, looking up at me as we walked along. “I wanted a Gyro.” She said it as you would gyroscope: jī'rō.
“Say it more like this,” I corrected. “Yee-ro.”
“Gear-o.”
“Yee-ro.”
“Hero?”
“That’s close enough.”
Maddie stopped, held her ground. “That’s it. I’m holding out for a Gyro,” she demanded.
I bent down and scratched Maddie’s ears. “’Til the morning light?”
“Huh?” said Maddie. “I don’t get it.”
“Never mind,” I said, changing the subject. “Just two things you forgot to consider.”
She looked up at me, squinting. “What’d I forget?”
“One, I can easily pick you up and carry you home.”
“And number two?”
I pointed. “Those are our front steps. We’re home.”
“Nuts.” said Maddie.
“Would you settle for some jerky?”
Maddie ascended the stairs. “I guess,” she said, pausing by the door. “But I’m going to pretend it’s a Gyro.”
---
I went back to Real Doner alone at about eleven and ordered the Appetizer Combo Plate ($9.95 – which seems to be the going price for most of their combo plates). To go.
Real Doner’s food is impressive, from first taste to final olive. Everything is attractively presented, fresh, and toothsome, with each flavor complementing the next. The garlicky bite of the hummus (Jennifer's sure to insist I sleep on the couch tonight) is offset by the smokiness of the Baba Ganouj; the spice of the ezme well-balanced by the complexities of the tabouli. The dolmas are tightly wrapped and dripping with flavor. And the bread, a thick, seeded flatbread, is perfect.
Décor-wise, Real Doner has made the best of an odd location, what was previously a long-shuttered liquor store tucked behind an automotive garage near the corner of F Street and Petaluma Boulevard South. A fresh coat of paint, a stereo playing festive Turkish music (loudly), a few posters of scenic Turkey, and the antique shisha holding court on a corner shelf go a long way towards setting the right mood of culinary exoticism that helps make a Mediterranean restaurant fun. The staff is friendly, though I get the sense everybody’s still getting figuring out the finer points of running a restaurant. Opening day was the only 6th, less than two weeks ago, so I’m perfectly willing to cut them slack in this department. Besides, it adds to the homestyle charm.
Hmmm… guess I should have taken a picture before I ate half of it.
"Hey Hannah," asked Maddie, rounding the corner. "I heard singing." She stopped, puzzled. "Who are your friends?"
"I am among the Moose," sang Hannah, in a low and tuneless dirge.
"I am among the Moose...
"There's no excuse, no truce...
"For Gander or for Goose...
"And you'll never, never, ever get loose...
"Once you're among the Moose."
"What are you doing?" asked Maddie. "It looks kinda weird."
"It's a performance piece," replied Hannah. "This isn't weird, this is art."
"But I don't get it," said Maddie. "And isn't there usually cheese at art openings?"
"Oh, foo," huffed Hannah, crestfallen. "No great artist is ever appreciated in her lifetime."
"That's okay," said Maddie, stepping forward and resting a paw on Hannah's shoulder. "Maybe I was just looking at things from the wrong angle."
"Is it lunch?" asked Maddie.
"Lunch?" asked Jennifer. "It's too early for lunch. We're going for coffee. You're hungry already?"
Maddie looked down at her feet. "A little bit." She looked up at Jennifer. "Maybe we can stop at Copperfield's, too. I know where they keep the treats."
Jennifer shrugged. "I already figured Ross would drag us in there." I grinned. Jennifer held out the card for Maddie to see. "You got a post card from Colorado."
"Ooh, it's pretty," she said. "But it's upside down." Maddie glanced up at me, narrowing her gaze. "You were in Colorado."
"Last year," I answered, taking the card from Jennifer and turning it over before holding the back up for Maddie. "Who's it from?"
"It says 'Miss Maddie,'" said Maddie. "Hey, that's me!"
"Maddie, that's your address." She pointed. "This is the person who sent it."
"It says it's from Hollie (
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
rain19). Oh, I know, she's on LiveJournal. I like the way she signs her H." "So what's it say?" asked Jennifer.
"Ummm... 'Hello from Colorado, Maddie,'" read Maddie. "Hey, that's me again."
"Go on," I said.
"Okay, okay," said Maddie. "It says 'I wanted to say hello and give the sunlight in your box some company.' And then it says the word 'pets' with little stars drawn next to it. I know what that means: footnotes! I'll bet they're under that sticker." She pawed at the postal barcode affixed to the card.
"I don't think that's supposed to be a footnote," I said. "I'm pretty sure that means this." I handed the card back to Jennifer, then patted Maddie atop her head.
"That's amazing," said Maddie. "I had no idea you could mail one of those."
"Sure thing," I said, taking the steps two at a time, trying to keep up. "What's the big hurry."
"There's something I need to check," Maddie said. She led me down 5th Street to E, then up to 4th Street. I expected her to drag me over to Walnut Park, but she turned, leading me to the post office. "I hope it's here," said Maddie, leading me up the stairs and inside.
"Check the box," said Maddie. "I hope it's something good."
I fumbled with my keys, dropped and retrieved them, then opened the box. I peered inside. "It's empty, Maddie."
"Huh?" asked Maddie. "Empty? Pick me up so I can see."
I hefted her up, so that she could see into the box. "Nothing but sunlight," I said, lowering her back to the floor.
"Oh, foo," said Maddie once we got back outside. "How disappointing. I had a dream there was something good for me in there."
"In the P.O. box? Jennifer and I usually just use that for business stuff."
"But it was a really good dream," insisted Maddie. "You know, the kind that makes you wake up smiling."
"Oh, Maddie," I said, sitting down next to her on the sidewalk and stroking the top of her head. "It's like my mom always says, 'you have to send letters to get letters.'"
Maddie looked up at me, squinting one eye inquisitively. "Does she really say that?"
"Yeah," I replied. "At least she always said that when I was a kid."
"Is it true?"
I shrugged. "Sure. My mom wouldn't steer you wrong."
Maddie thought for a few moments as I scratched her ears. Finally, she spoke up. "So if I send stuff, I might get stuff?"
I nodded.
"Grandma's kinda smart, isn't she?" asked Maddie.
I nodded again. "So, who do you want to write to?"
"I dunno. I'm going to have to think about it," replied Maddie. We walked back home, lingering in Walnut Park awhile on the way. When we got back to the house, the mail had come. In the mailbox was a card from my mom... for Maddie.
( Tons of stuff behind the cut... )
Maddie's kitchen sense is also unavoidable. Spider-man's Spidey-Sense has nothing on this girl. The moment someone steps into the kitchen, whether to scramble eggs for breakfast, re-heat leftover mac and cheese for lunch, throw together a veggie "meatloaf" for dinner, or merely to read the mail, Maddie knows. And when she knows, she follows her nose straight to the kitchen, tail wagging, asking, "What's cooking?"
"What's cooking? Smells delish."
"What's cooking? Do I get a slice?"
"What's cooking? Is it something for me?"
"But Maddie," I reply, "you don't even like onions."
So here we go again... Happy Maddie-versary! Let's count off five years of Maddie's hair-dos and hair-dont's...
( Maddie-kateer roll call behind the cut... )
So the big guy called me up and said, "Maddie, I'm going to need your help this year. Times are rough. I've got three reindeer down with the flu, the elves are demanding hazard pay, the price of coal is way up, and Christmas is in danger of being canceled."
Well, when Mr. C. says he needs your help, you can't say no. So here I am, all suited up and ready to fly. Soon, we'll be taking to the skies, delivering presents to all the good boys and girls.
I'll be checking off his list, while he does the heavy lifting. Though I may get to help out with a little bit of special "stocking stuffin'", if you know what I mean. 'Cause Christmas can't be canceled. Not if I have anything to say about it. Folks are countin' on us.
So Merry Christmas to all! We'll be flyin' by your house soon. Are you going to need me to put in a good word for you?
"Thanks for coming in and Happy Holidays," said Maddie, wagging her tail as she followed the woman to the door.
"You mean 'Merry Christmas,'" replied the shopper, placing her hands on her hips and looking Maddie in the eye.
"No," replied Maddie, shaking her head. "I said 'Happy Holidays.'"
"That's cute, little doggie, but you should say 'Merry Christmas,' after all, it's the reason for the season."
"No it's not," said Maddie, flatly. "It's the earth's axial tilt that causes the seasons, the 'obliquity of the ecliptic.' I read that on the Internet." She leaned to the left, as if to illustrate her point. "It's twenty three and a half degrees."
"It's a lot warmer than that," said the woman, looking through the door at the sunny day. "And you really should say 'Merry Christmas.' It's the only holiday that matters."
"Oh phooey," said Maddie, shaking her head. "I say 'Happy Holidays' because it's plural. There's a bunch of holidays in December. I read all about it on the Internet. More than just Christmas. I say 'Happy Holidays' 'cause I want you to have a happy Sinterklaas Day, a happy Finnish Independence Day, a happy Saint Nicholas Day, a happy Saint Lucy's Day, a happy solstice, a happy South African Day of Reconciliation, a happy Human Rights Day, a happy Emperor's Birthday (that's Japanese), a happy Boxing Day, a happy Hanukkah, a happy Kwanzaa, and a happy Eid al-Adha. And that's just a few of them."
The woman started to say something, but Maddie continued, backing her towards the door. "And furthermore, I think you should have a festive Festivus, though I'm pretty sure somebody just made that one up, a triumphant Egil Skallagrimsson's Day, a gaja Zamenhof Day, a stupendous Saturnalia, an excellent New Year's Eve, and a Merry Christmas. That's a lot of holidays for one month. And I want 'em all to be happy. So you'd better get busy..."
As Maddie was explaining, the woman backed through the door, got into her car, and drove off.
"...if you're gonna have Happy Holidays!" called Maddie after her. "All of 'em, not just Christmas."
Behind the counter, I just shook my head. "You know, Maddie," I said. "Sometimes you can be a little intense."
"Oh, foo," said Maddie. "I just thought she needed to know. Why just settle for one holiday when there's so many?"
"So do you have a favorite holiday, Maddie?"
Maddie thought about this for a moment, then said "Oh, Christmas. That's my favorite. 'Cause there's food. And presents. And songs. And I get to see Grandma."
We almost got off to a bad start, as Maddie, running through the front door towards the steps, discovered a patch of ice and, in cartoon-coyote mode, began running in place, her legs slipping and sliding until she realized she didn't have any traction, whereupon she sat down and looked up at me, pleading that I fix the failure in physics.
But we made it down to Wickersham Park.
"What's all this white stuff? Grass isn't supposed to go crunch." Maddie seemed astonished by the icy grass, the frost-limned leaves. I'd have to check, but I don't think we had anywhere near this much frost at this time last year. Will we get a white Christmas?
Ice crystals at Wickersham Park #1.
Ice crystals at Wickersham Park #2.
"I'm not so sure about this winter stuff. I say we go back home and curl up in the chair by the fireplace."
ljassen for that image). Needless to say, it ain't good.So what can we do about it? Editor Jonathan Strahan suggests a meme:
1. Choose four books published during 2008 that you loved and wouldn’t hesitate to recommend to others
2. Write a brief description (it doesn’t have to be much - a few words, a sentence)
3. Post the descriptions on your blog under the title Books for Christmas
4. Link to some suitable book retailer that you’d like to support
Since Jonathan Strahan also stipulates that the books be ones you have "no direct connection to... no books you’ve written, edited, or published" (otherwise, I'd be wholeheartedly recommending John Joseph Adams's The Living Dead, Ann & Jeff VanderMeer's Fast Ships, Black Sails, Paolo Bacigalupi's Pump Six and Other Stories, and Strahan's own Eclipse Two: New Science Fiction and Fantasy), here's my list of four. Go buy some books; they make great Christmas presents!
Seeds of Change, edited by John Joseph Adams is an impressive collection of social SF dealing with rather weighty issues (peak oil, racism, politics), but never coming across as preachy or polemic. With stories by Jay Lake, Tobias S. Buckell, Ken MacLeod, Nnedi Okorafor-Mbachu, K. D. Wentworth, Jeremiah Tolbert, Ted Kosmatka, Blake Charlton, and Mark Budz, there's something here for everyone.
Matter, by Iain M. Banks is complex, intelligent, high-stakes SF, and the first Culture novel in seven years. I don't know that Banks could have written this without having first written (non-Culture novel) The Algebraist, and Matter is every bit as mind-blowing as it was.
House of Houses, by Kevin L Donihe was my introduction (along with Gina Ranalli's Suicide Girls in the Afterlife) to the literary subgenre known as "Bizarro fiction." And it's easily one of the strangest (and oddly satisfying) books I've every read. Not for the squeamish, but if you're one of those "weird kids" (though this one is definitely not for kids), you're going to love this book.
The New Weird, by Ann and Jeff VanderMeer invites criticism and discussion. Collecting an audacious mix of stories and essays, The New Weird seeks to pinpoint and define the SF subgenre many consider inheritor to the "New Wave." I'm still not convinced that it succeeds on all levels, but this book has grown on me since I first read it (like a fungus), and is well worth picking up.
As for retailers, Copperfield's Books is my local independent bookseller, and I highly recommend 'em, but if you're down in San Francisco, nobody (but nobody) beats Borderlands Books.
And now, speaking of books, it's time for Maddiepiece Theatre...
"Welcome to Maddiepiece Theatre. Tonight, we'll be reading this excellent book right here. It's thick, and made of paper, and full of words, as most books are. This one appears to be about a cat. In a hat. 'The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play...'"
"Yawn. This reading stuff is hard work."
"Zzzzzzzzzzzz..."
"Hello..."
"Hello..."
"Hellooooooooo...."
"What are you doing Maddie?"
"Just saying 'Hello.' But check it out, my voice sounds all stretchy and echoey in here. Hellooooooooooo...."
---
I scored a rare Monday off yesterday, thanks to a late Sunday night text message from
jlassen telling me that, since the next day was a holiday, I may as well stay home. Of course, today is the real holiday, parades and all, but who am I to argue with a chance to hang out at home? So stay home I did, working (of course) on a comprehensive "recommended reading" list of vampire novels that I've been putting together for By Blood We Live, the vampire anthology Night Shade Books is putting out next August.Have you got a favorite vampire novel that I absolutely shouldn't forget? Have you written the great American vampire novel? If so, say something in the comments, and if it isn't there already, I'll add it to the list. And yeah, you can recommend short stories, too (or you can suggest them directly to the editor, John Joseph Adams, right here).
And I'm nine days away from forty. And counting. Ugh.
"I'm bored," said Maddie. "Can we put on records? Can we? Can we?"
"Just a sec," I said, glancing between yellowing paperback and computer screen, comparing and correcting copy. "Sure. Go ahead. Pick one out."
Maddie nosed through the collection. "How about this one? Naah... not that one. Oh, I know, this one. Play this one."
"Again? You always pick that one."
"But I love this record!" insisted Maddie.
"Fine," I said, stepping across to grab the record, then loaded it onto the turntable and queued it up.
"Oh, yeah," said Maddie, bobbing her head in time to the music as I sat back down at the computer, resuming corrections. "And here's the best part," Maddie announced. "Oooh, barracuda."
"Didja ever wonder what would happen," pondered Maddie, lounging on the couch at Our Best Friends, "if gravity just suddenly decided to go the other direction? It would be pretty cool, at first, walking around on the ceiling, but going through doors would be pretty hard, since you'd have to climb up and over the doorjamb. I guess you'd have to put in stairs. And everything would probably fall from the floor up to the ceiling, and that would be a big mess, 'cause stuff would fall out of drawers. And you probably wouldn't want to go outside, because then you'd fall up, and just keep falling up until you ended up in outer space or something, which would be bad. But then, what if I was the only one that gravity went all wacko on? I could walk around on clean ceilings, though I'd have to stay away from the ceiling fan. And you could take me outside for walks, on a leash, as always, but I'd float above your head like a balloon."
"You're a very weird dog, Maddie," I said, reaching down to scratch her belly.
Maddie squinted up at me. "Oh, foo. Like you've never thought of it. Besides, you look funny upside down."
---
Maddie listens to tunes...
"Play it again," demanded Maddie.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "This will make the fifth time through."
"But it's vinyl. It sounds so much better than CDs, or when you play music on the computer. It's warmer. You say so yourself."
"Yeah," I answer. "But you've already had me play this one four times. At least pick a different record than Henry Mancini's The Cop Show Themes."
"But I wanna hear the Theme from 'S.W.A.T.' again."
"Come on, pick something else. Please."
"You could put on Sebastian Speaks," suggested Maddie.
I considered this, rubbing my chin, then shrugged. "You win. The Theme from 'S.W.A.T.' it is."
---
Maddie meets Paris Roubaix...
We've got a new Dachshund in the neighborhood, Paris Roubaix. Yes, after talking about it for ages, Claire and Saul finally adopted a dog, which has turned out to be a little bit more of an adventure than either one of them anticipated. Some dogs have issues; Paris has a subscription. And she prefers to stand directly behind women. But give it time, I'm sure Paris will eventually fit right in.
Claire and Paris. That's Claire on the left.
Maddie, Paris, and feet.
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