between the rock and the cold, cold sea

And last night the parent took me to The Phantom of the Opera at the new(ish) theatre down by Grand Canal Dock. The dock space is gorgeous, even with all the redevelopment, and the theatre is a lovely space that still has that new car smell, all glass frontage and clean toilets.

It wasn't just me, it was the parent's friend and whitewaveraven as well. We were up the back of the theatre, in the vertiginous Upper Circle, practically as high as you could be and not be on the roof. Staring down into the stalls and the forced-perspective aspect of watching the action on stage was weird and slightly queasy-making: I have never before been in a theatre so large that the actors' faces were indistinct even with my glasses on.

It was, however, an excellent performance, vibrant and energetic, and I had one of the best nights of my life. (It's right up there with visiting Toronto, going gothing with Bear and Amanda - when I was too jetlagged to really appreciate it - wandering around Thessaloniki in the dark with all the craziest lovely Serbian and Russian and English girls on the language course, and at-home dinner parties in Athens with the best mad archaeologists.)

Then, on the way home, the parent slipped in the rain and fell on her wrist. (Today the hospital diagnosed Colles' fracture. Tomorrow, MRIs and bloodtests to check suitability for a general anaesthetic and manipulation of fiddling bones. All taxpayer-funded. Dear American friends: I hate to say this, but I am so glad we don't live in your country, today.) So that put a damper on the evening.

While Mum was getting her man to keep her company in hospital waiting rooms ("No, no," she says to me, when I offer to go with. "It's bad enough I need someone to drive me to the plague house. You go away and have fun."), I went to town and met two of my favourite people for lunch.

...And they gave me presents.

I may have been unnaturally delighted when a copy of Beyond Binary was pressed into my hands. And brownies! And a book voucher!

So the birthday haul, this year (she said, gleefully) (thanks to the best friends and the Aunt Formerly Known As The Wicked Godmother) is:

Beyond Binary, edited by Brit Mandelo (Yay!)
Mechanique, by Genevieve Valentine
The Killing Moon, by N.K. Jemison

(whitewaveraven immediately said, "Echo and the Bunnymen!" when we were browsing the bookshop, all three of us geeks together. The killing moon! It comes too soon!)

And!

Mark Hodder's Expedition to the Mountains of the Moon, which I did not exactly realise was number three in a series. So now I need to acquire copies of the first two. Someday. Eventually. (The Strange Affair of Spring-Heeled Jack and The Curious Case of the Clokcwork Man will be mine, along with Many Other Books. Someday.)

---

Receiving books for review is like getting birthday presents without a birthday. Strangely - oddly! - an unsolicited review copy of Jay Kristoff's Stormdancer ("Japanese steampunk") from Tor UK arrived in my door yesterday morning. (I am sure either through some kind of mistake or because every book reviewer Tor UK ever heard of is getting a copy.)

But it is like an extra present, because books are shiny. Very shiny!

(Boooooooooooks. My precious!)

Because if I'm looking at shiny things I can't afford, you should, too:

Shiny!

what is this about?

My OWW membership expires on December 27. I can't justify renewing, useful as I've found it over the last year. For starters, I can't afford to pay fifty quid (even US) until I can get myself a job, and I'm not entirely convinced I'll be able to put in enough writing time to make it worthwhile until the middle of June -

- nah, that part's a lie. I'd have enough writing and critting time to make it worthwhile - worthwhile to me, anyway - once I stop falling ill every time I turn around.

Still can't justify renewing. Too many other things I need to spend my money on. Too many other things I want to spend money on, even though I can't afford to be spending money at all - like these shiny little buggers, for example.

I saw a handful of them in a jeweller's today. The dragon-doing-a-motorbike-wheelie is such a cool little shiny thing, and if I were a rich bugger I'd splurge on the LOTR chess set, and I'm such a damn magpie, aren't I? Magpie see, magpie want. Get a grip or get a job, that's what I need to do.