You would think that I'd have managed this much sooner, as we've been in Texas almost a year now, but it was only today that I managed to make it to DMV while they were open AND their computers were working.

I feel oddly disconnected from myself, as if, in turning in a piece of ID declaring me a Californian, in exchange a piece of ID labelling me a Texan, my actual IDENTITY has changed. (Will my (subconscious) natural mimickry manifest itself in a twang now?)

On the other hand, I'm now the proud owner of a local library card.

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From an email received approximately half an hour ago:

Congratulations Melissa!

I'm pleased to inform you that your story, “Crossing the Mojave,” has placed
first in Toasted Cheese's A Midsummer Tale Writing Contest.

“Crossing the Mojave” will be published in the September issue of Toasted
Cheese.

Toasted Cheese is a literary journal and writers forum. I'll post the link to the actual story when it comes out.

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Because sometimes I like to be snarky, but it's a tone that doesn't mesh well with this blog, and because I've been encouraged to let my dark side out to play a bit, I've started yet another blog. LiveJournal folk will notice that as of yesterday, it's the new blog that is feeding to , which means that hey, you're not getting duplicates of this stuff!

Whether you read LJ or NOT, however, I invite you to take a dip into Snark Infested Waters. Eventually, as I become more comfortable with the tone, the content will become darker and more sardonic, and after the Blogathon (by the way, have you pledged? I'm only $85 from making my goal!) I'll be playing with podcasts as well.

And on that note, I'm off to church. Happy Sunday.
Happy Last Day of July.
Tomorrow, my month begins.

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Saturdays, the Sci-Fi channel runs “b” movies, monster movies that are just as cheesy, as anything my parents might have grown up with, and while the monsters sport cgi blurs instead of zippers, at least the underbellies of tumbled trucks no longer read “Tonka.”

Today the theme is “vampires.” I love a good vampire story, but it's JULY – high summer â“ and vampire movies are best suited for dreary drizzly autumn and winter days, when your imagination works with the weather to turn windown leaves skittering across the pavement into the scratching of someone clawing their way from the grave.

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In one corner there is the mosquito, buzzing annoyingly, constantly being batted away from the tender flesh it seeks. In the other corner, a yellow and black argiope spider, beckoning from her zigzag web. What ensues is not a prize-fight, but a duel to the death.

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“The difference between utility and utility plus beauty is the difference between telephone wires and the spider web.â — Edwin Way Teale

I am the first to admit that my relationship with spiders goes beyond mere sqickishness to full-blown phobia, but even so, when this latest guest arrived in my back yard my first thought wasn't to kill it, but to identify it.

Rana helped me with that â“ it's a black and yellow argiope, an orb-weaver also known as a “writing spider,â and I can't help but wonder if she's here to remind me to write more and angst less.

In any case, research has told me that she'll likely stick around as long as we let her, feasting on ants and mosquitoes, and that she isn't venomous. And yes, she IS a she, the males are apparently tiny.

Legend says that if a name is written in such a spider's web, the person so named will die, but so far, all she's spelled is ZZZZZZZZ. Perhaps this is a reference to the sound of buzzing insects? We can only hope.

It should be noted that I took this picture from about seven feet away. Getting closer would have required stepping on an ant hill, and I'm not inclined to do that. We will, however, attempt some night shots so the flash will illuminate the rest of the web.

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Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses front doors, please?

I'd really like to be able to include a different front door (they won't be identified) with each of my posts for the upcoming blogathon, so please, take a picture of your front door (or any front door on a house on your street) and send it to scritture@gmail.com, ASAP.

(I won't be doing anything but saving the doors to my hard drive, before the actual 'thon.)

And hey! Pledging is still open!

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I saw this at Kristen's blog, and had to try it. (I don't do quizzes very often, and publish the results even less frequently, but it made me laugh.)

Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.

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Clay made this button for me, because he's a really nice guy, and a great friend, and yeah, okay, it's only a BUTTON, but I'm so groggy I can barely TYPE the word “button” let alone make one.

Thank you, Clay!

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I can't sleep, despite the fact that I took medicine which should have knocked me out, but I'm not really entirely coherent either. At least I can babble from bed, when I have moods like this. And you – you're the lucky folks who are being subjected to my recumbent ramblings.

– There needs to be 4AM pizza delivery. I always get hungry when I'm up at odd hours, and pizza is elegant food. If you've never had pizza in bed, you've never truly lived. Or at least, you've never been a somewhat eccentric, caffeine-addicted wannabe writer with nocturnal tendencies.

– With all the genre-specific cable channels in existance, there should be one devoted entirely to musicals. And not just old MGM movies either. Videos of Broadway shows (tapes of “Live from Lincoln Center” and “Great Performances” and such) should be included as well. Between shows, chorus dancers would teach basic dance steps – because we all want to learn how to do time steps at three in the morning, right? Or vocal exercises. And a feature at least one day a week would be a sing-along version of a favorite musical, complete with subtitled lyrics and a bouncing dot to follow. Come on, it's gotta be better than the GOLF channel.

– Few things are more comforting when you don't feel well, then a small dog resting his head on your lap. (Or in this case, my foot.) Zorro is doing this right now, and he looks like a stuffed toy – fluffy and tiny and still. (Cleo, lest she feel ignored, is lying on her back like the hussy she is.) Both dogs have feet that smell like corn chips.

– In lieu of 4AM pizza delivery, home delivery of macchiatos and butter croissants would be acceptable.

Um, yeah, bed now.

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