President's Day?

I guess. It certainly doesn't feel like a holiday.

Galina and I watched Stone Cold last night, a dramatization of the Robert B. Parker novel of the same name. I like Tom Selleck as Jesse Stone and wonder if this is a one-shot deal or might this be the pilot for a series based on the Stone character, in much the same way that television co-opted a Parker creation with Spenser: For Hire two decades ago?

The boundary between where the snow sticks on the trees and where it doesn't is probably within 20 feet of our elevation, if the evidence of our eyes looking at the next hill over is any good. For the record, the trees in our neck of the woods remain clear. Moreover, the sun rose into a partly cloudy sky this morning; it sure was good to see that blue color again.

I sent back all the material that the client had sent to me to edit. It was slow going because of the unfamiliar subject and because I had been instructed to be particularly careful to make sure everything was right while editing. The only thing that bothers me is the volume: I'd been told there were about 50-60 pages in the assignment, and that it'd be sent to me in parts. Between the material done yesterday and the documents I edited on Friday, I am way short of 50 pages (although if we divide the word count by 250, maybe I'm 2/3 of the way there). I simply hope there's not a humungoid document waiting in the wings to be edited later today for tomorrow.

In honor of the holiday, Drew's opening the store at 10 am and closing at 4 pm (hours corresponding roughly to the UPS drop-off and pick-up times). Then in the evening, we're going to have dinner with the kids somewhere around here before Galina takes off for Houston.

There's serious paper to chase today, so I better get to it.

Cheers...

Best-laid plans, an' a' that!

Galina just left for Houston.

It's funny how I don't comprehend the prospect of an upcoming separation - the empty feeling in the pit of my stomach - until that separation is imminent or just begun. As Galina started to go down the driveway, I had an urge to go running after the Ford, jump in and go with her, but there's too many mundane things in the way.

Editing is one of them. Chasing paper is another.

I am going to go take a nap.

Cheers...

Fighting a foul mood...

Galina has been gone for two hours, and I have not been able to nap, or work, or do anything.

There's a silly part of me that still wants to start running down the road, after her.

Two hours... she's somewhere short of Santa Fe... somewhere around Epañola, I imagine.

She's been after me to thin out/pack up/get rid of my books, in preparation for the big remodeling project she's had in mind for a while.

A couple of days ago, I set up a couple of sawhorses in the rooms next door, with a 4'x8' piece of plywood across 'em. Now, I'm at least moving books out of my office over there and giving them a hard once-over, though I haven't really done anything with any of them.

I ran across The New Black Mask Quarterly (No. 1) on my shelves.

I remember it as a purchase in a used book store during a business trip to the Atlanta area, back when we lived in Jacksonville, Florida. The cover features a scene from an excerpt from Robert B. Parker's Promised Land, which was the featured item in the book. I remember I liked the excerpt so much, I started reading the Spenser novels. Like so many readers, I enjoyed the first novels - especially Searching for Rachel Wallace - much more than the later ones.

I miss her.

Cheers...

About Feht...

Never let it be said that my sometimes misanthropic friend Feht keeps his light under a bushel. Some time ago, I recall he asked me to look over something he had written for Gabe Bokor's online Translation Journal. I mostly forgot about that until I ran across the piece in all its glory.

My favorite part is the end, where Feht holds forth with advice for tyros:

Who am I to give advice? OK, I'll try. From the bottom of my heart.

1. Take care of yourself, sleep as much as you want. Don't translate more than 10,000 words in a day; this is bad for your eyes.
2. Don't work for peanuts but, on the other hand, don't worry too much about money. They won't let you become rich, anyway. We live in the world of mandatory compassion: the more you make, the more they take.
3. Bewildered and tired, losing track of who you are, what you are doing, and why? Re-read Kipling's If. If this doesn't help, re-read Kipling's The Gods of the Copybook Headings. That drastic measure unavailing, take a swig of brandy. Never translate under the influence, though. Customers have no sense of humor; they think they are always right.
4. If you can write very well in your native language, you already have a skill necessary to become a successful translator. The rest is hard work.
5. If you can't write very well in your native language, no advice will help you. The rest is silence.

I've been doing a lot of #3, lately, but have not applied the cure. Yet.

Cheers...