So much for our sub-hundred-degree days. Today and yesterday, the remnants of Hurricane Dean came roaring through the desert, leaving nary a drop of water on the ground, but plenty of humidity in the air. It also dropped our temperatures below 100 degrees for the weekend. We go back to 103 tomorrow, and upwards of 110 by the middle of the week.
We're one day short of tying the all-time record of 28 days at or above 110 degrees. We're this close, we might as well break it. We came pretty close already, several days at 109, but not enough to push us over the top. Such is the fate of a desert rat.
In other news, this weekend, my son told me he now likes Rush. "That guy's voice (Geddy Lee) is weird." My daughter, the newly-minted percussionist, also likes to watch my Rush DVDs so she can watch Neal Peart drumming. My oldest is too interested in painting her nails and shopping for shoes to care.
The short fiction sale drought continues. After 12 since December, it's been almost three months since my last sale. It's a crazy-bizarre business, writing is. Some of the stuff from the past six months is now coming to print. I've got my Tales of the Talisman story coming out in a couple of weeks. I'll see the editor, David Lee Summers, at Coppercon in two weeks. In the mean time, I need to find new markets for a couple of stories that came back. One is a novelette, and they're always hard to place.