* Polydextrose is not a flower; or, yet again, "eat food; not too much; mostly plants."
* Nathan Fillion is the Next Great TV Leading Man. To which I say, duh.
* My new favorite poem: "The Meaning of Life."
* I am not a vengeful woman, for the most part. But this guy deserves his own special hell.
* This statement will get me smacked-down but -- I don't disagree with "The Case Against Breastfeeding" by Hanna Rosin. Which is my tepid way of saying that breastmilk is not a miracle elixir, no matter how much we might want it to be.
* The best thing about March.
* Author headshots and retouching. How much is too much?
* This probably deserves its own post but how f'ed up is my own self-worth that I think Simon Jones has a point in this screed against the women he has knocked-up having the gall to no longer be sex kittens. Even though I know Jones is an ass (and know at least two women with kids IRL who have been cheated on because their husbands are Jonesian narcissists), a very small part of me still feels culpable. Oh, patriarchy. Where haven't your tendrils reached?
* Jo Walton on Tim Powers. I want them to write a book together.
* Justine Larbalestier give the best writing advice ever.
In other news, I had to run downtown at 11 a.m. to pick up a very late birthday gift for my Dad -- sorry, Dad -- and the St. Patty's Day revels had already started. Ah, youth. Bet you a nickel most of 'em will be completely incapacitated by happy hour. Pacing, kids. It's called pacing.