So 11-year-old daughter (formally known as the twilight ninja) came home with a sheep eye retina and parts of the eyelid. “Look how beautiful it is,” she said.

Update: Twilight Ninja wants me to point out that she was a party to the dissection of same eye of sheep.

Look guys, am I going to have to separate you two?* I’ll turn this Blog around in a minute and drive all the way back home. Don’t think I won’t. Don’t make me reach back there.

* Brad and Rory

Bradley sent me this letter after he saw my story about him in the World Fantasy Convention book:

*Sigh* All right. You know what happens when you’re bad. Back into the little dark room again, Rory. That’s right. The tiny one with the metal door and the grate on the floor, where you have to hunch over naked and hug your knees to wait for when the slits in the ceiling open and the wasps fly in. Go on, now. That’s a good boy. Stay in there for four or five days and maybe your nice friend Bradley won’t have to hurt you again.

He really is very nice, though.

Most of the time…….

Election Day falls to me.

I don’t understand being apathetic about voting. I understand being apathetic about politics–at this point, with the crazed state of California politics, I want to lie down and avoid the whole thing. The He-Said-She-Said nature of political advertisements is numbing, and in my darker hours I think that that’s just what they want. But voting itself is sacred.

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