The arts journal was kind enough to award my short story, "Hysterectomy," the Allen and Nirelle Galson Prize for Fiction. The story had been in progress since 2005, and was kind of beaten down along the way. So this kind of honor makes me happy for my story. Fiction Editor Jennifer Pashley said a few incredibly nice things.
Visual Arts prize winner Emily Farranto (whose art can be seen on the wall, above) arrived from New Orleans, and I from Indianapolis. And now the Colts are playing the Saints in the Superbowl. Coincidence?
At dinner, I was so busy talking that I forgot to take pictures of my coffee-encrusted filet of beef with Irish whiskey demi-glaze. Understand that it was delicious. I did capture huevos rancheros from Sunday brunch at Alto Cinco. The picture is slightly blurry. My hands were shaking with anticipation. You have never had cornbread such as this.
Alto Cinco used to deliver food by skateboard courier. They have a mural made of hammered bottle caps. It is in walking distance from most of my Syracuse apartments. I chose most of my apartments based on proximity to Alto Cinco.
Me: "Hey, I'm going to take a picture, but you don't have to move or anything."
Guy: "OK."
I now live in a very flat land. I'd forgotten about Syracuse's icy hills, even though my story takes place in Syracuse, in winter.
Upstate winter can get to you. But it's also beautiful: a world all its own. I'm glad to have lived there. I was glad to return.
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