It's a bit of a twisted pleasure, though, since I'm not planning on eating so much of what I bought. The groceries were mostly for Kevin -- I'm going to try to lose some more weight before I go visit my family for Christmas. Not for any strong reason, actually -- I'm at 140 still, and it's not a bad weight. But 130 would be better, and if I'm careful about eating (and start exercising again, sigh), it should be do-able in six weeks. Part of the motivation, I admit, is simply to get more startled compliments from my family -- they were so astonished that I'd managed to lose fifteen pounds, and kept it off. Fun. I'm also hoping to meet with the Kathryn publicists at Gotham (imprint of Penguin) around the end of the year -- if that happens, it'd be good if I looked as good as I can. Which means back to tea and yogurts and small dinner portions. I'm not doing so well with the whole willpower thing -- I made Kevin a pumpkin pie last night, just 'cause it's that time of year, and I couldn't resist a sliver last night, and another this morning. Sigh. Hopefully he'll eat the rest of it soon, taking temptation out of my path. I do love pumpkin pie, and it's astonishingly easy these days, what with the canned pumpkin pie filling that only requires you to add two eggs and a can of evaporated milk, before pouring the goop into a frozen pie shell...hmm...that doesn't sound so appetizing, does it? Trust me, it came out totally nummy. Pumpkins and spice and sweet and creaminess. Mmmm...
Yesterday, I did manage to do quite a bit of reading at the C-Shop. A couple of really gorgeous stories from Conjunctions 39, which I'll be reading more of today. This is normally a serious literary journal, but 39 is an issue devoted to the "new wave fabulists" -- which means Hopkinson, Link, Carroll, Crowley, Duncan, Hand, Harrison, Mieville, Lethem, Morrow, Wolfe, Fowler, Gaiman, etc. -- basically, my favorite contemporary fantasists. Delectable! Really solid collection. Go get it.
I also read a totally surreal and goofy novel, Whipstock, by Barb Howard, in which a woman working on an oilfield gets impregnated -- by one of the derricks. Or so she claims. Beautifully written, very funny, and the protagonist just has a great attitude towards sex and pregnancy...definitely recommended. There's also a dead grandmother who sends her e-mail.
I need to write up some Tiptree reports, then back to Conjunctions, I think. Still waiting on the Melcher edits, which they've promised me by noon. We'll see. Duncan's trying to find out whether the extra length is going to be a difficulty -- fingers crossed that they can squeeze it all in...