You Bake an Apple Wrong, It's Still Edible

Josh made baked apples last night. We'll leave it at that.

The Egypt stuff is weird. Like fascinating and worrying. Every time there's huge protests in a place, I try to imagine them happening in Kansas City and I can't. My friend, Kyle, went to Argentina a couple years ago and they were having protests. He said the taxi drivers went on strike and people were blocking off major streets with flaming barrels. Kyle's host family just acted like it was par for the course.

I don't mean to compare apple protests to orange protests, it's just I don't know how else to respond. That's kind of the consensus among other online fiction writers. As writers (albeit liars), are we supposed to respond in some meaningful way? How do we illustrate our interest and care for the people involved? Do we pretend to have any answers? I don't know. Have gay issues? Come to me. But anything like this, I just don't know. I'm reading about it, but that doesn't make me different than anyone else. You're reading about it too. Or at least you're aware of it.

In delightfully selfish news, I have another story up on Necessary Fiction today. Steve Himmer, editor of Necessary Fiction, sent out a call to previous writers featured in the magazine asking them to submit stories with an opening line taken from the closing line of another writer's story. This became a special project for January called "First Footing", inspired by the Scottish tradition. I have xTx to thank for the first line of my story. Thank you, xTx.

I don't know the protocol for announcing things like this, but I received an acceptance from an online lit mag I love. I'll post a link when the story goes up. The story is shorter than a kitchen stool, but I'm proud of it.

There's supposed to be snow headed our way, IF YOU HADN'T HEARD. Buy your milk! Buy your eggs! It may or may not be a blizzard, there's no way to know until it's breathing down our necks and making unnecessary comments about what we are or are not wearing.

I keep hearing noises in my house, but I'm the only one home.