Playing pool and wild darts

Coming home in the evening, I found a mess of random mail waiting for me, but also a print contributor's copy of The Cascadia Subduction Zone 2.4, containing my poem "Ortygia to Trimountaine," and an ARC of A Fantasy Medley 2, containing no work of mine, but a character with my name dies a hideous fictional death in Amanda Downum's "Bone Garden." I won it from her years ago (with a lyrics meme, I believe). It's a doozy. I am quite pleased.

This was a weird timeslip of a weekend—I can remember that on Friday I went on a dinner adventure with derspatchel, audioboy, and Beckie to Asian Gourmet in Concord, which I found via a Cheap Eats review in the Globe and which turns out to serve the best soup dumplings I've had since Grand Sichuan on St. Mark's Place; and that Rob and I spent Saturday evening in and around Harvard Square, which got us a brilliant book haul at the Harvard Book Store, a jar of Louisiana marsh honey from Follow the Honey, and bowls of avgolemono soup from Zoe's so dense, they were basically risotto with a spoon; and last night was Uncle Vanya and this afternoon was a voice lesson and tonight I finally introduced my father to M3 and he pronounced approval on the fried chicken and jalapeño cheese grits; but I have a lot of trouble figuring out when I slept, despite the fact that I know that some of it was quite decent sleep with a cat not being too inconvenient at the door. I finished my Arisia signup. I wrote half a poem. I'm drinking tea. I have a lot of trouble believing it's Monday.

[edit] I forgot the unexpected gift from Sunday. Before the play, we had dinner at Durgin-Park, where I had the richest oyster stew I've ever encountered in my life (okay, my grandmother made one that was basically simmering oysters in milk with butter and pepper, but this was comparable) and the exemplary Indian corn pudding, by the grace of God and our waitress, I don't know what we did to deserve it, came free. While eating the stew, I found a tiny lady's slipper: it must have come in with the oysters. There was still a shred of meat in it. I sucked it out, washed the shell, and wrapped it in Kleenex so I wouldn't lose it. It is now on the shelf in front of my computer. I've found pearls in bouillabaisse mussels before. I like when the sea gives me presents, however it can.