I love getting good reviews--I'm really happy with the good professional reviews. But I have NO idea how that translates into things like marketability or sales or telling people who said they wanted to be my agent and then changed their minds "Hey--you were so wrong you made a thumb up your ass look right!"
Screw it-- I can't manage the mindfuck. I'll just be happy with the review and hope people keep buying Promise Rock--and stop chewing my nails to the quick because I submitted Making Promises last week and I haven't heard back. (Yeah, I know--it's been a week. Waaaaaaahhhhh, Amy, waaaahhhh...) I also submitted a short erotic story called Phonebook--it's sort of a sequel to Shirt. The theme of the stories is sort of making relationships work on an everyday level by using everyday things. That was sort of fun--and David Marchwell did a beta read for the story, which was pretty damned awesome. Let's just say I did some little rockstar squeaks when he said he'd be interested and leave it at that!
(I'm currently writing a story called Litha that's set in the Green's Hill world. I was thinking of asking Mary Calmesif she wanted to do a beta read on it. It's REALLY hard writing a Little Goddess story for people who DON'T follow the series--since Mary has read the series ((eeeeee))) and also knows the genre, I'm hoping she'll have some good advice for me. She also has good connections for people with Supernatural calendars. Mmmmmmm... Dean....)
Anyway, in kid news I've got a couple of things:
Yesterday, we went to visit Mate's grandma for her 90th birthday. Her spine is currently shaped like a question mark with a twist, so she's not exactly mobile, but she is VERY alert for all of that, and it was a good visit. Zoom boy was getting REALLY restless though-- sort of a combo restlessness: he was tired, someone fed him sugar and he hadn't pooped in four days. It was a trifecta of snottiness, and suddenly Mate's Uncle Carl stepped up and offered to take the boy for a walk.
Now I've always sort of admired Uncle Carl-- he grew up in an era where men didn't really care for children, and caring for his children has always been a source of pride. Carl and Sis had four kids, and they all turned out to be awesome citizens and good people, and I was very comfortable letting Zoom boy zoom off with this new person.
Sure enough, they came back and Zoom boy was all excited--"Mom, mom! Uncle Carl let me chase the COWS!" Yes--cows. Five or six full grown and half grown cows who are renting a field on grandma's property. My eyes got big and Sis called Carl a moron and I had a terrible epiphany. It's not just me and Mate. Apparently ALL children survive with a combination of watchful eyes and DUMB FUCKING LUCK. Omg. Pardon the retroactive heart attack.
But nobody was hurt, and Zoomboy and Carl had a good time. No harm no foul-- but no more chasing cows either.
We also met Mate's cousin Ira--haven't seen him in forever (like, since surly adolescence forever) and here he was, all grown up with a daughter and watching his sister's kids and... well, he was a whole lot of fun. (His so, Kim, was a sweetheart too--just all in all, a nice day meeting family, that's all there was to it!)
And in Squishie news--today she announced to the world, "I"m NOT afraid of ANYTHING. Okay. I AM afraid of bugs. But I'm NOT afraid of monsters." Well, it sounds like a good plan to me--I mean, your odds of running into a bug are really much larger, am I right? Yesterday she got to take a family walk on the farm property as well-- she had Aunt Sis pick her flowers. The ride home was fun. "AAAAUUUUGHHHH! IT'S AN ANT IT'S AN ANT IT'S AN ANT GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF...oh. It's gone."
Chicken just stole the bathroom from Big T-- I made her apologize. There he was, playing human remote control for his brother and sister, and she walks right by him. "Scuse me, T, gotta go potty." Aaaaaaaand twenty minutes later.... I swear, that girl's got a future in ass-kicking. She just needs to move out of the house first.
Big T has decided to re-take the CAHSEE, but we're both a little peeved. He passed the high school exit exam the first time, but he asked for a dictionary. If the teacher in the room had told him, "You can have the dictionary, but you'll have a caveat on your diploma," T would have taken a pass on the dictionary. But the teacher didn't, T got the dictionary (which he didn't use) and now he can either retake the test so he can have the 'passed with modification' caveat removed, or he can graduate with that thing hanging over his head. Poor guy--he's miffed and I'm pissed-- but he's also got an unshakeable integrity. Dammit, he KNOWS he can pass the damned thing without help-- he wants the world should know it too.
And that's all... and gees, this is a long post. Isn't that enough?
(Everyone think great travelling thoughts for Roxie--she's leaving for Canberra in the next couple of days, and she's fallen in with questionable company. I'm telling ya, sweetie, keep an eye on those guys. You never know when you're going to find bogus charges on your credit card for wool lingerie!)