About Time

Finally, a week after the crash, an insurance appraisers looked at the car. He provided an estimate to Your Sister and recommended a local body shop. I thought the Jim Barkley dealership could do the repairs, but no, they have no body shop. That stuns me. They always advertise as full-service. The estimate will got to the body shop this week, and the car will get there the 19th. Should be fixed in a week. That leaves Your Sister with no car while I'm in Charlotte, but we're covered for rental cars by the insurance.

I'm now putting sketches into my portfolio, hoping they'll sell at the convention. I already pre-sold five sketch cards just yesterday. 

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Ray Bradbury has died. The 20th-century SF prose genre was PACKED with talent. Bradbury, Clarke, Asimov, Heinlein, Niven, Anderson, Herbert, Le Quin. These are the people who inspired the radio dramas and movies and TV series. And Bradbury's body of work is gargantuan. I'm not sad he's gone; I'm too gobsmacked by everything he wrote.

I knew the Electric Grandmother story before I knew who wrote it. The Something Wicked This Way Comes movie scared the crap out of me before I knew who wrote it. I took at least one of his anthologies to the beach house last month.

Picture of the Day
All in a day's work.