The meatloaf was dry. I believe this is because I used stuffing mix, which required extra liquid.
My family assured me that the meatloaf was excellent. Well, it was good, but not excellent.
I believe this may be a clue as to why I am not published.
Reading: Awake at Work, by Michael Carroll. This is a book of Buddhist meditations about why you should love whatever drudgery that comes with your job because it is part of your truest self. It seemed a little shrill, and more hectoring than other Buddhist influenced stuff that I've read. I would have liked to finish it... but I have so little time to read as it is. I don't do well with hectoring, and when I found that I'd rather read comics more, I gave in to my truest self and returned this to the library.
Elementals, by Bill Willingham. The first four issues in graphic novel format. I recently picked a used copy up on Amazon to round out my collection of the series, which I keep because I found it such a weird blend of capes and fairy tales.
I like Bill's stories unreservedly, although his Elementals letters pages used to make him sound like a bastard of the Harlan Ellison mold. I especially liked the Elementals when he was writing it. I think this is partially because his first story arc used plots and characters from a set of adventures he wrote for the Villains and Vigilantes game: Death Duel with the Destroyers, and I forget the latter one, with Saker. It was a thrilling combination of my life experience up to that point: role playing commingling directly with comics. In a way, because I had run those adventures, I thought of the characters as mine, and seeing somebody write a different story with them was like (but not equivalent to, now: I don't want anybody to misunderstand) watching characters from my own head come to life. It was a pleasure reading his peculiarly bloody minded take on superheroics again.
The Fixer, by Joe Sacco. Another graphic novel about a sort of sad sack character who was in the Chechnyo-watchamacallit war and ends up telling wild tales to influential young journalists like Joe Sacco. I really enjoyed this. It was sharp, and although the author seems to be of the neurotic young writer sub-type, he isn't whiny. The illustrations are just beautiful, especially the panorama on pages 12 and 13 of Sacco arriving in war torn Sarajevo.