(no subject)

Colour me amused. I'm reminded that it's Memorial Day weekend in the US and that women may wear white sandals from Monday (have I got that right?) from the state of my email.

One particular email list is sending me dozens and dozens of out of office replies. I am not the listowner (the lists I manage are mostly based in Australia), and the address line suggests that all these emails are reaching the whole list, not just me. Each time any of us who are not out of our offices sends an email to the list, all those out of office replies come through. If we're really unlucky then the emails that produce the out of office messages will regard those out of office messages as more emails to which they must send another out of office response. I used to send a message round every holidays when my lists were more active, reminding people not to use automated replies.

There's no never-ending loop so far, just a few dozen unexpected messages. This is good. The reason why it's so good is that I'm pretty positive that one of those out of office replies came from the listowner.

(no subject)

I so want to be pretentious today. Somewhere deep inside me is saying 'Pontificate on matters you almost know.' Alas for common sense. It's telling me (from somewhere less deep inside) "Don't be an idiot."

(no subject)

There is only one yeast bun left. Poor lonely yeast bun: I think I shall eat it for supper.

I'm working hard today, all evidence notwithstanding. I have seven pages to write (five fiction, two non-fiction), 40 to edit and email, eight to transcribe, and then I can dance around my loungeroom, riotously.

(no subject)

The May Speculative Fiction Carnival is out. Thanks, Chris, a great job.

I was going to make a sulky and adolescent comment about me not writing, editing or publishing according to the carnival. The thing is, though, that my lack of appearance on the carnival is probably related to me not sending Chris any links to posts. I meant to. I also meant to send nominations for the Ditmars. The trouble is that edits for Life through Cellophane descended on me and then the draft cover for the cursed novel (aka The Art of Effective Dreaming) and the first batch of edits for the anthology: these three things cumulatively obliterated both the carnival and the Ditmar nominations from my mind. That means it's my own fault, but for good reasons.

If you want to appear in the next carnival, possibly sending a link or two to the host would help. Don't rely on the carnival host or Nyssa (the owner) remembering your favourite thoughts of the month. They're important to you, but the likelihood is that everyone else read them and promptly forgot. For the record, my favourite thoughts of my own for the month were in the post about writer/reader interface. Just so you know what you've promptly forgotten.