On the Morbidity of Flora

I live with a lot of plants.

I managed to kill about four batches of basil and cilantro through lack of light before I got a potting table and tossed it out on the enclosed balcony at the back of the house. This’ll be fine until, say, late September, when I’ll need to buy a heat lamp and move everything inside. I’m adept at slaughtering plants. I went out the back today and realized I missed a watering day on my basil – it was deathly ill. I repotted and rewatered. Another batch bites the dust…

In other news, I got a very nice personal reject from Sheila Williams at Asimov’s for my story, The Women of Our Occupation, (my first personal rejection from Asimov’s in, what, 8 years of sending stories to them? This new editor switch over there is a damn good thing for shaking things up) and I’m going to go ahead and slip it off to Datlow and see what happens. It’s the last of my latest batch of Brutal Women stories I finished up a few months ago that Datlow has yet to see. Invariably, she appears to end up liking them, and I get personal rejects every time – they just aren’t “Sci-Fiction” types of stories. I won’t go on a rant about what that means. This is a public forum, afterall.

Anyway, I’ve got hours of weekly prep stuff to do today. I’ve got a crappy corportate golf outing on Tuesday, and I’m off to Vegas Thursday to hang out with my Clarion peeps. I also really should go jogging today. Blah. Blah.

Ciao.

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