But these shoes, they are so pretty, so terribly impractical, so fabulously cheap–I can’t help myself. So, I apologize, in advance. I’ll try to keep this and all future outbursts to a minimum.

When I modeled these 5″ high patent platform peep-toe Maryjanesfor the hubby along with the black satin cocktail dress I picked up at the same sale, he said, “Wow, those look a little bit bondage.”

And I said, “Kinda badass, huh?”

And he said, “No, like bondage gear. Do they hurt?”

Sigh. Men.

P.S. They are surprisingly comfortable.

As for me, I knew I needed a new size, as my bras have been giving me backaches lately. The wonderful wizardesses moved me up from a 32C to a 32D–which is not as impressive as it sounds. Cup size runs in scale with band size, so the cup on a 32 is smaller than the one on a 36. On an almost 6-foot tall woman, a 32D can still look pretty darned flat-chested. Who’da thunk it? Anyway, the new bras are super-comfy, so who cares?

Mom called me again this morning to lament her F-ness. But here’s the thing, with the new, right, bras she actually looks less busty than she did before. Her cups do not runneth over. Plus, a properly fitted bra is the best way to avoid “matron-boob” you know, that mono-bosomed look that results from women wearing the size they’ve always been instead of the one they really are. And, no backaches.

Mom is now a sworn believer for life, and has vowed to tell all her friends about the wizard of bras. If you’d like to make sure you’re wearing the right size bra, follow the fitting instructions on their site.

Every year, Dad gets us each a gift, and every year, I’m both surprised and choked up. It’s not the gift itself (not that I’m complaining about Godiva, you understand), it’s the thought behind the gift, and the consistency. My dad’s been getting me Valentine’s Day gifts since I was knee high. And even though I complain about Valentine’s day, and tell him I’m not expecting anything special, every year, there’s a card, or some chocolates.

Now I’m definitely all grown up. I’m taller than him. I’m married. I have a college degree, a 401K, and I hardly ever get carded when I buy booze. I don’t look like anyone’s little girl, but I’ll always be his daughter. And he’ll always be my dad. And there will always be Valentine’s Day gifts. And I will always get all schmaltzy and choked up. And I will always think how lucky I am to have a dad like him.

P.S. I promise this will be my last sappy post for a good long while. Next week, I’ll be back to the usual rants, bitterness and shameless self-promotion–I promise.

My ARC of Ann Aguirre’s Grimspace arrived in the mail today. If her vast Grimspace Publicity Juggernaut has somehow missed you, Grimspace is an exciting new sci-fi novel which Jane of Dear Author recently reviewed very favorably and of which Sharon Shinn said the following:

An irresistable blend of action and attitude. Sirantha Jax doesn’t just leap off the page–she storms out, kicking, cursing and mouthing off. No wonder her pilot falls in love with her; readers will, too.

This book is one of my top five awaited reads for 2008. I wanted to read this book so much that when Ann asked if she could hire me to do a bookmark for Grimspace, I said, “Love to, but you have to give me an ARC.”

And now my ARC is here, in all of its pristine, white paper covered glory. So, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go read.

I’m not naming names, but if you feel the same way about a particular candidate, maybe you should swallow your cynicism and vote your conscience, too.

A couple of weeks back, when it just kept raining, my husband and I went to our favorite Japanese noodle place for dinner. We were the only people in the place, but we chose the booth way at the back. We sat side-by-side on the brown vinyl bench and watched the rain fall through the big plate-glass window beside our table.

Cars drove by outside. Their headlights illuminated the falling rain and the slick black streets. Couples on their way to dinner and a movie scurried past the window. They walked walked close to the building, slowing when they passed under the awnings, happy to be briefly out of the rain. They wore winter coats and gloves and hats to stave off the chilly high-forties temps. They cuddled together beneath the same umbrella as they walked, awkward as they tried to match their strides to the movement of their partners’ bodies.

The owner of the restaurant must have been in a pensive mood that evening, because he’d replaced the usual soundtrack of 1980s American pop with sad love songs in Japanese–the kind of songs you hear over the credits of movies with bittersweet endings. My husband and I, we ate our steaming bowls of nabeyaki udon and curry soba. We didn’t talk, but instead watched the steam from our bowls trace curls and swirls into the air in front of us, and condense on the window beside our booth.

When we finished eating, we sat back, warm and full and happy. We didn’t say much. We held hands, listened to melancholy songs in a language neither of us really understands, and watched the rain fall.

1. I know the place of purchase and price of every article of clothing I own, no matter how long ago I got it. If I bought it on sale, I can also tell you the original price and how much I saved.

2. I love fabric. I am, in fact, a fabric whore, known to wander the aisles of fabric stores across Los Angeles admiring the color and weave of wares I rarely purchase. Bonus: every story I’ve ever written contains at least one fairly detailed description of fabric–the material, the color, the weave, the pattern or the dye-process.
3. I am just under six feet tall.
4. The reason I use a lot of exclamation points in my blog posts and comments? I really talk that way. Really!
5. I love false/created spaces. Las Vegas, Disneyland, miniature golf courses, malls built to look like 19th century European or American towns, odd little houses around LA that look like hobbit houses or castles or pagodas.
6. I’m fascinated with trains. From 19th Century steam engines, to 20th century trollies, to Angel’s Flight (Los Angeles’s late, and much missed funicular rail line) to subways to light rail. Trains are cool.
7. I am almost unbeatable at “Connect 4″

Okay, now I have to tag 7 people. I tag Sarai, Isabelle Santiago, Carolyn Jean, Grammar Geek Laurie, Kate Rothwell, Sherry Thomas and December Quinn

But the transfer point between my two buses is right in front of a bookstore. And the wait time allows me just enough spare time to go in and check out the new book table. And buy a few books. Sure, bus fare is cheaper than gas, but the resultant book buying is killing me. And, I’m a tree killer. (

I’m not so keen on my new hair color, but I love the look of my new webpage.

Jane was brave enough to ask folks what they thought of Dear Author’s new look. She made the change so Dear Author would load faster. I just wanted my site to look prettier.

Though I know it’s going to be a bit of slow load for folks on dial-up, I’m still going to follow Jane’s shining example, and do likewise.

What do you think?