2017-01-18

sovay: (Viktor & Mordecai)
Tonight I roasted a chicken with apricot jam and made a sauce out of the pan juices by deglazing the roasting pan with the only potable form of alcohol we had in the house, i.e., whisky, and served the whole thing over rice. I feel very smug. Also, full. It was a larger chicken than it looked when I bought it. There are leftovers. Choice bits were given to patient little cats as a treat (and even impatient ones, like Autolycus who tried to introduce himself at every stage of the process, from the initial rubbing with butter, pepper, and salt through the basting with pan juices and spiced jam to the carving and serving, which had to be conducted in the dining room to be sure of keeping an eye on the carcass). Now I want to bake something. [edit] I just made some cinnamon Rice Krispie treats instead, because spite dessert never gets old.

1. [personal profile] yhlee has sent me a copy of Neat Sheets: The Poetry of James Tiptree, Jr. (1996) and a selection of international stamps, including a magnificent underwave mermaid that turns out to have been done by Dave McKean.

2. I didn't even realize we were getting a new gold coin this year—much less with an unambiguously Black representation of Liberty on the obverse—until a predictably racist controversy blew up around it. I think my only complaint is that I don't have a hundred dollars to trade in for one at this time. I've been carrying a Sacagawea dollar in my pocket for some time now, but the MBTA used to dispense those as regular change.

3. Following the SFPA's removal of Tlotlo Tsamaase's "I Will Be Your Grave" from consideration for the 2017 Rhysling Award after listing the poem online among the nominees and the outcry this decision reasonably provoked, I am now hearing that the poem has been reinstated and will appear in the Rhysling Anthology. I am glad. As the editor who accepted it for publication in the first place, I have obvious opinions about its speculative-ness and its right to be in the running for the only poetry award in our field. In the meantime, a new poem by Tsamaase will appear in Strange Horizons later this week, as part of our special issue on resistance that I would have announced earlier if I hadn't been flat on my face catching up on sleep.

These are good things and provide some fortification against other facts of the world, like [livejournal.com profile] derspatchel playing me Betsy DeVos' claims that grizzly bears are a good reason not to restrict the availability of firearms in schools or [livejournal.com profile] strange_selkie breaking it to me that Trump will lead an invitation-only prayer service at the Washington National Cathedral on Saturday and presumably not explode in a rain of sulfur as soon as he crosses the threshold or opens his mouth. Personally, on Saturday, I will be joining [livejournal.com profile] rushthatspeaks and Fox and I should hope a great many other people for the Boston Women's March for America. Who else can I expect to see there, or at least miss meeting up with in the crowd?
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