And, just before I woke, there was that dream, me in a wheelchair, trapped inside a vast, maze-like complex that Jerry Falwell had built to teach creationism, while outside, in the darkness, Godzilla burnt some city to the ground.
And people expect me to be frakking coherent in the morning.
But...I have the solace of my iced coffee. And Pandora Radio. And the comfort that comes with knowing there are no interviews today. Yesterday's turned out to be a telephone interview, which are the worst sort. I knew it was to be by phone, but I'd forgotten.
Speaking of The Red Tree, did I mention the snazzy T-shirts, now available from Ziraxia?
Also, we've decided to auction one copy of the ARC (advance-reading copy) of The Red Tree. Only one, mind you. And you won't only be bidding on the ARC. You'll also be bidding on an actual prop from the book trailer, presently listed as Plate XIII on the website. The auction will begin later today. Or maybe tomorrow. I'll let you know when it starts.
Anyway...yesterday. After the fourth interview of the week was done, and various other bits of the busyness of writing had been attended to, Spooky and I fled the House for any part of South County bordering the sea. We ended up in Narragansett. The tourists were bad, but the smell of the sea was good. We had dinner at Iggy's, then drove down to the granite jetty at Harbor of Refuge. And that's when I got stupid and took a pretty bad tumble off a wall of the old fort, down onto a slab of concrete. I misjudged a rock that looked stable, but wasn't. Now, long ago, when I was just starting college, and spending much time in rock quarries with high, precipitous walls, I took a climbing course with a bunch of other geology students. And one of the first things we learned is still ingrained in my mind. It went something like this: The first rule of falling? Never fall. The second rule of falling? Everyone falls, so fall well. The third rule of falling? Having fallen, be sure your not injured before you move. And even though it's been much more than two decades, everything I learned about falling well still kicks in, when I happen to fall. Which is to say, I wasn't injured, just mostly embarrassed. I lay still, fearing I'd broken my ankle, waiting for the shock and superficial pain to pass, so I could tell Spooky I wasn't dead. I opened my eyes, and a damn seagull was soaring directly overhead, laughing at me. Once it became clear I was fine, we walked to a less rocky place, sat on the sand and watched the sun setting over the placid harbor, and the waves breaking over the jetty.
We got home about 9:30 p.m. There are photos:
A stranded Asterias forbesii, near where I fell.
View to the southwest, Harbor of Refuge. Taken just about where I fell on my ass.
Claw of Cancer irroratus.
View to the northeast, the lighthouse at Point Judith.
Queen Anne's Lace.
The sun setting over the harbor, view to the west. Nothing to fall off here. Nice soft sand.
Okay, platypus says I gotta go. More promo work to do before we meet sovay and ericmvan for Birdsongs of the Mesozoic tonight.