Chasing the pangs and the shades

This was good. I arrived home from the doctor's this afternoon to find, unexpectedly arrived on my doorstep, a package from yuki_onna. Among its manifold contents were discovered a tin of pomegranate tea, a small paperback of Christopher Logue's Cold Calls, which is the latest (and damn near impossible to find on this continent) installment of his poetic revision of the Iliad, and what looks like a small collection of BPAL imps: Arachne, Hecate, Yggdrasil, The Unicorn, Bluebeard. It's sort of like Wiscon in a box. Or katabasis. Hey, corn-queen: thank you.

Then there's lesser_celery's announcement of the upcoming publication of The Best of Not One of Us, a twenty-year retrospective of the magazine's fiction in which my short story "Another Coming" appears. Only a few of the other shady characters involved are Patricia Russo, Gary Braunbeck, Katherine Harbour, Seth Matthew Lindberg, Jeffrey Thomas . . . It's going to be an awesome collection. And with all luck, it will be out in time for Readercon.

This was not so good—extracting a bottle of apple cider vinegar from its cupboard only to discover that it had developed an inhabitant reminiscent of a teratological specimen, three pale overlapping discs floating there in the clear amber liquid like some tree-grown fungus. I haven't the faintest idea what it is. I'm scientifically curious, but culinarily wary: one should not find in one's kitchen items that are more often seen in museum cabinets. I'm buying new vinegar tomorrow.

I have always adored bergamot tea

In which I BPAL, because I'm curious.

(Cut for Hecate, because that's what I tried first.)
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Hm. Forty-five minutes. For a seduction, I think that was a record.