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A Bison Named Tinkerbell
Aug. 3rd, 2008 10:54 amI'm over the sleep deprivation experienced at the San Francisco hostel - Satyapriya will know exactly what I mean - and have a bit of time this morning to catch up on email and read journal since my hosts need to take care of various household jobs. At such times a guest is about as helpful as feet on a fish.
On my first day we were extremely slothful; sitting around, catching up and drinking excellent tea. It is hot here, which I'm rather enjoying after the cool fogginess of SF. We watched a pilot for a series which was never made, entitled "Rough Magik" featuring Paul Darrow from Blake's Seven, a lot older and greyer but as acerbic as ever. He does a mean interrogator of matters Cthulhoid.
Yesterday we drove into Wyoming, which borders Colorado, to visit a bison ranch. This is a working ranch, which looked somewhat rundown and needing the tourist dollar to get by but it certainly had a herd of bison, including the herd bull "Tinkerbell" who got the main share of the food handouts by our guides, since no other bison dared to go near him while he was eating. There was also Parker, another male bison who lived with a herd of cows - he was a bottle baby and couldn't relate to the bison herd at all. Another odd couple of residents were "beeffalos" (sp?) which are a cross between bison and domestic cattle. We trundled about the animal pens in the slowest train I've ever encountered, unless you count the Zephyr chugging its way through the freight yards the other night.
Following the sightseeing tour we had lunch in the ranch's restaurant and yes, bison was on the menu. Bison burgers are very rich and extremely filling but I don't think I'd want it as a regular thing. There was the obligatory screaming child which we would have liked to feed to Tinkerbell but one never seems to escape from that.
Apart from keeping my paper journal and noting here, I'm afraid I'm not doing any writing but hey, this is my holiday. I need a proper break and this is it. Obligations will be taken up when I return. I am still trying to persuade Ticonderoga's ed to email me back a copy of my story, which one would not take as being very difficult but it seems to be. I'm about at the end of my tether trying to get this to happen, which is why I've decided to finally write about it here. I believe I'm fairly patient; one has to be with short fiction markets where your story will often be held for months before anything happens but sometimes it's just too long. The problem here is that my previous computer crashed spectacularly quite a while ago, taking with it a lot of work. Yes, I had copies on floppy but unfortunately there was double jeopardy and some of those floppies refused to deliver up their contents.
It wouldn't happen now as I'm posting everything to gmail - thanks for the prompt there, agoodliedown - but I'm still chasing two stories in the grips of editors. Once this is done and obligations fulfilled, I'm seriously considering a complete break from the field. Perhaps it's finally time for that serious novel - I've got certain ideas which may work this time - but in any case, I'm not having fun and that's when it's time to move on, isn't it?
Thanks for listening, people.
eeks!
On my first day we were extremely slothful; sitting around, catching up and drinking excellent tea. It is hot here, which I'm rather enjoying after the cool fogginess of SF. We watched a pilot for a series which was never made, entitled "Rough Magik" featuring Paul Darrow from Blake's Seven, a lot older and greyer but as acerbic as ever. He does a mean interrogator of matters Cthulhoid.
Yesterday we drove into Wyoming, which borders Colorado, to visit a bison ranch. This is a working ranch, which looked somewhat rundown and needing the tourist dollar to get by but it certainly had a herd of bison, including the herd bull "Tinkerbell" who got the main share of the food handouts by our guides, since no other bison dared to go near him while he was eating. There was also Parker, another male bison who lived with a herd of cows - he was a bottle baby and couldn't relate to the bison herd at all. Another odd couple of residents were "beeffalos" (sp?) which are a cross between bison and domestic cattle. We trundled about the animal pens in the slowest train I've ever encountered, unless you count the Zephyr chugging its way through the freight yards the other night.
Following the sightseeing tour we had lunch in the ranch's restaurant and yes, bison was on the menu. Bison burgers are very rich and extremely filling but I don't think I'd want it as a regular thing. There was the obligatory screaming child which we would have liked to feed to Tinkerbell but one never seems to escape from that.
Apart from keeping my paper journal and noting here, I'm afraid I'm not doing any writing but hey, this is my holiday. I need a proper break and this is it. Obligations will be taken up when I return. I am still trying to persuade Ticonderoga's ed to email me back a copy of my story, which one would not take as being very difficult but it seems to be. I'm about at the end of my tether trying to get this to happen, which is why I've decided to finally write about it here. I believe I'm fairly patient; one has to be with short fiction markets where your story will often be held for months before anything happens but sometimes it's just too long. The problem here is that my previous computer crashed spectacularly quite a while ago, taking with it a lot of work. Yes, I had copies on floppy but unfortunately there was double jeopardy and some of those floppies refused to deliver up their contents.
It wouldn't happen now as I'm posting everything to gmail - thanks for the prompt there, agoodliedown - but I'm still chasing two stories in the grips of editors. Once this is done and obligations fulfilled, I'm seriously considering a complete break from the field. Perhaps it's finally time for that serious novel - I've got certain ideas which may work this time - but in any case, I'm not having fun and that's when it's time to move on, isn't it?
Thanks for listening, people.
eeks!