...And the story of how we got here - after time in Devon with Terri, then WFC in Brighton, then visiting David Almond in Northumberland, Lizza Aiken (and Geoff Ryman) in London, then flying to Marseille where Brutish Airways lost my luggage & everything went pear-shaped for a couple of days til we were able to retrieve it and find a place to stay ( Read more... )

'Cole was still full of the diet question.  He now lives chiefly on rhubarb tops--they have such a "foody" taste, his son thinks.  "Dear me! Poor fellow!" Whistler told him, "it sounds as if once long, long ago he had really eaten, and still has a dim memory of what food is!"  "And spinach," Cole added, "it's fine. We eat it raw.  It's wonderful, ( Read more... )

It's unbelievable:  Almost impossible these days to find a room in NYC for under $200!  I recommend:

• This 10/12 NYTimes article:  http://frugaltraveler.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/10/16/7-manhattan-hotel-rooms-for-150-more-or-less/

• Colonial House Inn, W ( Read more... )

And so we left the House of Heart's Desire on Friday morning to ramble our way down to Liz Hand-- no, wait that's wrong*: In the morning,  we went to the Stonington Farmer's Market, looking for fresh eggs and smoked fish in that delightful fishing town at the end of Deer Isle.  And that is why we got such a late start heading down the coast to Liz ( Read more... )

And now:  Off to Stonington Farmers' Market - wearing my HARD LUCK CAFE: Bordertown T-shirt!

Which reminds me that I meant to tell you:

As we were driving up here to Maine from Readercon, we stopped at a roadside joint for BBQ.  The guy behind the counter was very friendly - he'd just come back from a memorial for his "second mother," and inclined to ( Read more... )

And so we have arrived at the House of Heart's Desire: big house in Maine near Blue Hill, looking out over the Reach to Deer Isle, alone here, settling in to do nothing but read, cook & Write for 10 days.

Came upstairs the first morning (yesterday) to find Delia still in bed, finishing Ysabeau Wilce's new Flora Segunda novel, FLORA'S FURY. Since ( Read more... )

. . . or:  Life Imitates Art

I am on a writing retreat with my brother Phil, at Endicott West.  Last night he got into the Phoenix airport (from Cleveland) first, and picked up the rental car - which turned out to be a rental SUV of amazing magnificence - they gave him an "upgrade" for no apparent reason - and fetched me, and then we headed off down ( Read more... )

Tuesday was epic: We packed up & cleaned up our friend's house (always like to leave a place looking better than when we arrived, if possible! #keytosuccessfulmooching), drove down the  Maine coast a piece - heroically stopping at only one antique shop along the way - for lunch with Liz Hand at her enchanting little writing cottage , which we left ( Read more... )

I am full of bliss. Delia is already hunkered down on the sunporch, working on WIZARD'S APPRENTICE. Tomorrow we may go to Blue Hill to look for books with colorful Maine sayings in them, which she needs for the book. And to see what the trees along the road look like. Again. Can't get too much of that. And if she considers picking blueberries ( Read more... )

Not noticing anything - but if, as Hemingway said, Good Americans go to Paris when they die, it's possible it happened without my being aware?

Lovely day today, sleeping late & then lunch just down the street at our friend Maud (the woman whose thesis defense at the Sorbonne we raced down from Amsterdam to attend, what, 3 yrs ago? She is an art/ ( Read more... )