This and That

More than a month this time. Oops. I hope everyone had a good Thanksgiving. I spent it with Liz'a family and had a very nice time. The holiday is always a bit problematic for me since my mother died on Thanksgiving eve ... what, six years ago? But then she was so miserable. I hate it that my memories of her are predominately of her dementia. Most of my life, she was gone pursuing her academic career. We were more like sisters than mother and daughter. Oh well. I never have dealt much with Jame's mother either -- another absent figure. My father still overshadows my life, 12 years after his death, partly because I'm still dealing with his artwork. About once a week, someone contacts me about one of his prints, either asking about its value or asking if I have one for sale. The most recent in demand is "Reach," which was on the cover of motive magazine and is now featured in a collection of art works that churches might want to adapt for their own use (I've insisted on keeping the copyright).

http://www.pchodgell.com/site/index.php?module=PhotoGallery&func=detail&pid=375&startnum=45

As for my own writing, I've been stuck on the same chapter for more than a month, with not that many months to go before I have to turn in the ms. Here's a tidbit of Jame and Shade in the Master's House:

The Randir took a step away from her. Like a nervous tick, one of her eyes fluctuated between her own and the porcine orb of the Karnid whose form she had assumed. “You know too much.”
“I’ve been asking questions for a long time, in many strange places. What’s wrong?”
Shade retreated another step. “Everything is too much. The Master, the Prophet, you, me … is anyone what they seem to be?”
They had stopped in a room where every surface was crusted with luminous lichen. Flat leaves, scales, and hairy clumps of ochre, rust, chartreuse, and leprous white crawled around them like sluggish thoughts trapped in a bad dream. Shade stumbled backward into a wall. Fungus crept up over her shoulders and down her arms, holding her as she strained to free herself. Jame unsheathed her claws, but hesitated to use them for fear of ripping the other’s skin off. Filaments inched across Shade’s startled face. Addy struck at them, drawing blood, until fungus encased her too. The wall sucked both in with a dry rustle and closed over them. All that remained was a blurred image shaded with lichen, in the process of dissolving.