Leland and I returned from a couple of lovely days in North Carolina with my family on Saturday. Yes, it has taken me this long to recover. What can I say? From the plane’s initial descent to kissing the cats hello took three hours — you’d be useless too.

(Don’t get me started on the MTA. Don’t get me started.)

Delicious moments near the Atlantic ocean made up for the suburban eerieness of the gated McMansion rental community. (Yes, the houses are… rich. But they were just so damn empty, and that was a little weird.) And hopefully I can whip up a post on turtles in a day or so. Because, you know, turtles are the new rabbits. (Well, not quite.)

Spent the entire day in Prospect Park, brainstorming and note-taking about comics projects. Consider me recovered.

And lo, for no reason, pictures.

North Carolina knitting:

The Strength tree:

My favorite shirt:

The necklace says “patience”. Of which I’ve had very little, historically. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I think the turtles have something to do with it.

Can BEA really be only a couple of days away? I completely forgot that I had a three day work week this week (following on the heels of last week’s two days; not bad).

Am I really going?

Could I quite possibly meet Sherwood on Thursday? She’s signing at Books of Wonder, along with Holly Black (double threat! yeah!).

My first BEA. Good fun. I may not be able to make it every year, but it won’t be the last.

Well, not exactly. Try fried, perhaps. Exhausted, tired, run down, on the outs, sleepy as can be, etc.

Things have been slow around here, I know, but that’s only because I’ve been going a mile a minute for about a week now. But, we’re off to lovely North Carolina for an early Memorial Day, so hopefully I’ll get my relax on, then. The plan is as follows (not necessarily in this order):

1. read
2. knit
3. write
4. cuddle

Repeat ad nauseum.

I had some Lewis Spence news. There were details. I was going to make a post. But the long and short of it is that a picture is nearly impossible to come by. I’ve narrowed it down to one lone source and it’s not even a photograph, more at a line drawing. It’ll require a trip to the Nipple. (Yeah, like that’s putting me out.)

We got a table at MoCCA. So look for us there.

Emotions may be a moving target, but I firmly believe that they’re aces for your stories. Here’s why.

So I’m sitting there one day, with Warren’s book in one hand and a highlighter in the other. Somewhere about two-thirds of the way into the book, I stumble on an interview with a guy named Mark Waid.

Yeah, this guy was definitely on to something. (Not to mention the obvious encouragement — you mean it’s okay that I haven’t read eight thousand comics? Hallelujah.)

I’m pretty fond of this one. If you like it, please be sure to spread the word.

Thanks!

What the heck is up with the knitting blogosphere’s obsession with Cotton-Ease? “Discontinued!” they’re all saying. Everyone’s going naners. “Buy it now” for $25 for 4 skeins on eBay? Whatever.

And yet, I’d be lying if I tried to pretend that I haven’t been swooped up in all this hype. I was skulking around P & S the other day and I walked out with three skeins of Banana. What the ‘ell? I don’t even like bananas! Or yellow! This is, of course, in addition to the considerable stash of Bubblegum, Sugar Plum, Pistachio…

What am I going to make? A quilt? My three dozenth Tarot bag? A lampshade? The mind boggles.

What gets me is that I’ve peeked at the horse’s mouth and there’s no big discontinuation huzzah over there. For goddness’s sakes, folks, if you’re gonna get in an uproar, just go buy out the supplier. Save the eBay fights for when times are (incoming! sarcasm!) really tough.

I say this with the greatest amount of affection, mind you. I just don’t get it, s’all.

Added a new review over at Endicott, this one for Lisa Tuttle’s THE MYSTERIES. My thread is here.

Washington Square Park, Haven for Eccentricity, Is Set to Fall Into Line (registration required — I suggest BugMeNot.com)

Washington Square Park, the scruffy spot with an anything-goes tradition, is about to get a perimeter fence and a lock, courtesy of a Parks Department makeover.

“They’re sanitizing the park, taking away a lot of its charm and freedom,” said Carol Massa, president of the MacDougal Block North Association. “It’s overkill.”

Lon Milo DuQuette is one of my favorite people in the world. In esoteric circles, he tends to be one of those guys who one either loves or hates; some folks love the way simplifies but not dumb-ifies complex esoteric subjects, others don’t make the distinction and get all grumbly for making that which is occult accessible.

(Yeah, guess which camp I fall into.)

Anyway, I’ve been the fortunate recipient of some first-person Lon wisdom (he once gave me the sweet and lowdown on the Temple of Solomon over a burger and fries in a hotel diner, another time kept a group of Tarotists in stitches with tales of tying up the loose ends of Crowley’s estate), which only makes me love his books even more. I was in a particularly grumpy mood yesterday until stumbling on his latest at B&N; three pages in and I’m cracking up in the aisles.

This one’s a book on divination. It is not to be taken too seriously. But, you see, that’s what’s so wonderful about Lon — he knows that spiritual practice is a serious business, but it also needs that key ingredient: perspective.

Taking oneself too seriously is a great way to get on my bad side.

Midori found the coolest thing in the New York Times the other day:

HELIGAN is the Rip van Winkle of gardens. Nurtured by successive generations of the Tremayne family for four centuries, it fell into disarray after almost all the workers who maintained it marched off to war in France in 1914. By the end of the 20th century, a jungle of ivy, bramble and laurel had engulfed flower beds and shrubs.

Three years later, a chance meeting led to his excited discovery and exploration, sometimes on hands and knees, of the overgrown acres. He and a group of enthusiastic associates subsequently leased the property and launched a crusade to save what they christened, with an unerring instinct for public relations, “The Lost Gardens of Heligan.”

Gorgeous weekend in New York City this weekend, absolutely delightful. Perfect for walking in Central Park and taking reference photos for certain artists, both of which I did. Unfortunately, the Treo camera wasn’t in top form, else I’d share some of the photos with you. Nonetheless, wow. It’s no Maine wildwoods of my youth, Acadia National Park or Pacific Northwestern forest, but that Central Park has a few things going for it. Lilac, for one. Which brings me to a message for all flower-selling bodega owners of my fair city: quit it with the charging me eight fricking dollars for a sprig of lilac, you cheapass bastards. I know that you’re just trying to make a living and everything, but you’re just alienating your clientele, at least those of us who grew up up north and know what nature shouldn’t cost. Or something.

Anyway.

Don’t mind me; I just remember what those lilac bushes in the back of my house, back in the day, and I get a little worked up.

Leland stumbled upon this one by accident, I think:

That would be J.M. DeMatteis, one of my all-time favorite comic creators. I’ve seen several pictures of him, but none without the bushy beard (the likes of which I can’t find a picture of now).

He looks all relaxed and happy. This is lovely.