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A sunny, bright day, and it was a little warmer. Currently, it's 76˚F (heat index 77˚F). And it looks like that was our high.

But I slept very late – because apparently I was exhausted. I did not get up until 8:30. Actually, I woke at 7 a.m., when I ought have, and then I looked at the clock and it was 8:30, and so either I was abducted by aliens or I dozed off for another hour and a half. All told, I slept more than eight hours, which almost never happens anymore. For me, six hours is a good night. Anyway, oversleeping had a sort of cascade effect that meant I got no writing done. I got no paleo' done. I got none of the mountain of reading done I need to get done. The schedule is the schedule and I cannot waver. Or I lose a day. Hopefully, I'll do much better tomorrow.

I did write long emails to Mike Polcyn and Jun Ebersole today on prospective research projects, and that was something, at least.

And I made this post to Twitter, and I know it's a little cryptic, and maybe someday I'll explain what I am referring to, what led to me making the post. But maybe I won't. The particulars do not change the truth of it.

What I know at 57: Being a good scientist means there will be a moment when you must admit the greatest scientific accomplishment of your life has been proven inadequate & someone younger, smarter, and/or with better technology has gotten much nearer the truth. And you accept it with dignity.

Anyway, that was today. Last night, we continued our re-watch of Hannibal by starting Season 3. But I was so sleepy, and the two episodes were so beautiful and quiet and the music was so nice that I kept dozing off. Yes, Hannibal works as a lullaby for me. I also became obsessed last night with the idea that Bryan Fuller could make an unbelievable Angela Carter mini-series. Indeed, those two opening episodes of Season Three are pretty much a Carteresque affair ("Apéritif" and "Amuse-Bouche") and work very well, at times, as a "Beauty and the Beast"/"Bluebeard" retelling, two fairy tales of which Carter was especially fond.

Today's photo isn't supposed to be about my two World Fantasy awards (though they still make me a proud beast). It's more about my Tylosaurus proriger plushy slithering between the silver Easter Island-like monoliths of Lovecraft's head. I adore my Tylosaurus plushy, made by Scots artist Rebecca Groom. You should check her out. She's a cool and talented lady. One day, I will have the money and a moment of weakness and get her coelacanth (Latimeria sp.).

By the way, it still isn't anywhere near too late to have a look at my Amazon wish list and maybe make my wretched 57th birthday less wretched.

Later Tater,
Aunt Beast

11:17 a.m.

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