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Birthday

photo of Cat Rambo with flowers
The kitchen overlooks rooftops, then sound, then mountains. Hummingbirds live in the locust tree in back.
Well, happy birthday to me. I’ve managed five decades and a bit so far; here’s to many more.

Man, this has been a shitty year in many ways, and one full of life lessons that apparently the universe felt were overdue. Some of those I’m still grappling with. I am so freaking behind on this book it’s not even funny, but thank god for both the wonderful time spent writing in California this summer and the kick in the ass that NaNoWriMo has administered. I’m feeling hopeful about that again and making steady progress.

At the same time among the bumps there’s been plenty of bright spots. Among them my first novel, my first appearance in a Year’s Best collection (edited by Joe Hill, no less), and my first acceptance to longtime goal Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (I have been submitting there for over a decade now). I’ve had nineteen original publications come out since my last birthday, and twelve are currently forthcoming, including a team-up with Mike Resnick. Rachel Swirsky and I are working on some projects together, which is terrific fun. I have a good half dozen stories already spoken for. My collaboration with Bud Sparhawk finally got accepted so he can stop nagging me about why it hasn’t sold yet.

And I’m somehow SFWA President, which is surreal, but also cool because we’ve been getting shit done this year, including admitting independent and small press-published writers, getting a model magazine contract up, reinstating the member electronic newsletter, expanding SFWA’s offerings for self promotion, and even got a cool infographic that answers to all the times someone whinges about how SFWA doesn’t do anything. Not to mention the recent Accessibility Checklist. Nothing speaks like success, and we’ve had some solid ones this year, in my opinion, and I love this ass-kicking team. It’s freaky though, when there’s moments like talking to Harlan Ellison on the phone or getting e-mail from Robert Silverberg.

We moved! Which was awesome but a pain in the butt when it was going on. I love the new place so much; West Seattle feels like home already in a way that Redmond never did. We’re not quuuuuuite moved in all the way; at least, we’re still waiting on a couple of pieces of furniture before everything will feel squared away. And my brother Lowell came out for his first visit to Seattle, but hopefully not the last. I made lots of new friends, and had good times with existing ones, including my beloved Caren Gussoff and Sandra Odell.

As always I picked up some new domestic skills in my endless exploration; this year included how to brew kombucha, how to make Greek yogurt, and the amazing nature of browned butter, which remains me that I co-edited a cookbook with Fran Wilde whose contributors included some pretty august names. Holy smokes was that project a pain in the ass but we survived.

And there’s plenty to look forward to in the next twelve months. Another two-sided collection, hurray! Hearts of Tabat forthcoming, and hopefully Exiles of Tabat along with it. The usual plethora of stories. Continuing to expand the online school (I’ve got some very cool content coming up in 2016.)

So here’s to a lovely birthday weekend that will include Indian buffet and thrift shopping and either ordering myself a pair of shoes I’ve been wanting or pulling a couple of wants from my Amazon wishlist. 😉

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"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."

~K. Richardson

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Resist Through the Way You Exist

One thing that’s emerging from discussion about the New Green Deal is that to act ecologically, to believe that climate change is real and that we must all work together to avert the worst of it, is now considered by some a radical leftist notion.

It is a given that the corporations must change their ways, must stop polluting and destroying the commons – the natural resources that belong to us all as citizens of this planet. The government must stop rolling back environmental protections — and put back the ones it’s stripped away while also stopping the flow of those resources to profiteers. But at the same time we as individuals can live in ways that help move us evolve into a society that places less strain on our planet.

You can #resist through the way you exist, and particularly the ways you spend money. Corporations have developed enormous systems designed to sell you stuff, to create anxiety in you and then offer material goods promising to soothe that anxious ache. All that angst will go away if you just buy the right celebrity’s brand, they say, and then laugh all the way to the bank while you stand there, not sure how you’ve been conned. Opt out!

Here are some things I’ve been trying to do more of this year:

  • Cooking more, and buying less pre-packaged or take-out food. I make the majority of our dinners (often quite quickly, due to the InstantPot). It’s cheaper and (usually) healthier plus it gives me more control over the ingredients. I do like my walk to the coffee shop in the morning; nowadays I bring my coffee thermos mug with me rather than use their paper cup.
  • Some of what I’m cooking comes from Imperfect Produce, which I’m finding convenient, plus a little cheaper. Imperfect Produce sells both organic and regular produce that isn’t consistently sized or pretty enough to go into the grocery store.
  • Reducing food waste through several other means, including using leftovers up whenever I can. A recent roast, for example, became a savory sauce over gnocchi the next night, and finished its existence as a soup. And the vegetable peelings from the meals all got popped in a plastic bag in the freezer; when there’s a full bag, I’ll make stock out of it. I like to make my own yogurt; the whey from that gets frozen and added to soups.
  • Another means of reducing waste is composting more, now I have a place with a yard. I might have gone a little compost nuts, actually. There’s a rolling bin for yard waste, a bokashi fermenter on its way, and a space reserved for a worm bin. But there’s enough garden space here that it will be useful!
  • I have always used simple stuff to clean with rather than buying heavily perfumed cleaners that make me sneeze. Try out baking soda instead of scouring powder, frozen chunks of fruit rather than garbage disposal deodorizers (also uses up aging fruit), wool dryer balls rather than fabric softener, olive oil based furniture polish, or vinegar and water for glass surfaces.
  • Making my own presents or giving experiences rather than things. Whatever your feelings on Marie Kondo, she does have a point when it comes to amount of useless stuff people accumulate. Why add to the the mass of that, when a batch of cookies might be more appreciated + don’t go on to take up shelf space for years? It doesn’t have to be sweets. It could be a plant you’ve started, a savory spice mix, or a scented bath bomb. There’s a LOT of DIY possibilities. Or take someone for a walk or to a concert they’ll enjoy.
  • I’ve always preferred thrift shops (perhaps because I was heavily influenced by Tanith Lee’s The Silver Metal Lover as a child) and that’s certainly not going to change, but I’ve also got enough space to pull out the sewing machine and either spend some time tweaking stuff I’ve accumulated or get rid of it.
  • Corporations don’t care about you, but they do care about the money that flows through your hands. Buy locally and from independent creators where you can, boycott the egregious bad behavers — and let them know that you are doing so — and overall make what you spend count where and when you can.

Remember that in this modern world, kindness, mindfulness, and honesty are as punk as you can get. Don’t buy into the cynicism enforced by edge-lord humor. It dulls your empathy and numbs you into acceptance of things as they are. Celebrate your differences and those around you.

#sfwapro

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Flash Fiction: A Horrific Homage to the Seattle Kraken

Start the clock! Release the kraken! Let the hockey players sharpen their blades, let the audience stir restlessly and go one last time for popcorn and sodas and beer, glorious golden beer that tints the ice with its microbrewed haze.

Because there is a haze tonight, that’s for sure, folks. Tonight Seattle’s surrendered to the supernatural forces that have been creeping up like uninvited shoggoths in recent years. The world’s gone weird and wacky, and why not krakens, why not tentacles spilling out from the Space Needle, infesting the sky? It’s Seattle, after all; it’s raining so it’s not like they block out the sun.

Who’d have dreamed that magic and hockey would mix this way, a mash-up made of bloody sticks and smashed spell bottles? Seattle’s wizards have come out of hiding for this game, emerged from their lairs in Greenlake and Mercer Island, driven their Teslas over to park in interdimensional folds where they won’t get scratched like normal cars.

Only an hour’s worth of game, and then the magic runs out, deflates like a sodden pumpkin, milked for all that tentacle and terror juice. Will it be enough to keep Seattle entertained for another evening, keep it from imploding like Scherezade in reverse into ennui and coffee beans? Cities don’t resort to supernatural hockey games until they’re really in extremis and no one is really sure what this one will – or even can — achieve, given a world of murder hornets and sapient bananas and well, you remember the last few months as well as I do, particularly what happened to the butterflies.

The clock’s ticking. The skaters are moving back and forth over the ice, and things are stirring in the depths underneath it, things that will fuck a Zamboni up and shred ice like tissue paper. That’s how close the danger is to us all. That’s how dire things are.

Let’s stop now, before another spray of ice goes up, before another player gets a bloody nose and melts the ice with that, so things can crawl through from another dimension. It’s not too late. Where’s the entrance? Where’s the exit? Why does this ice hold me so fast?

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