Sleepy Saturdays...

Sort of.

First of all, thank you, everybody, for the hugs and good wishes. I was trying to be very grown-up about the whole thing--turns out, I was just too tired to recognize that we're all little kids, even when we're forty-two. Anyway, that's another blogpost, today's will be quick and simple and hit on some of the stuff I glossed over on Thursday, yes?

* Fucked up Tuesday. Tuesdays are pretty skeery 'round here anyway. Both girls have dance lessons--same studio, but different locations, on opposite ends of town. Squishie's dance lessons are off in 'Levee Oaks'--seriously. Deacon and Crick's hometown is based on Rio Linda, and I got the idea for Crick's walk up and down the dusty roads by the levee from taking Squish to dance. Anyway, it's along drive and a long day, and then, this last Tuesday? The fates conspired to just jack it up beyond all comprehension.

For starters, when I pulled up to collect Zoomboy from his usual after school hangout (his best friend Sam's house, which is 1/2 a block from school) there was a commotion directly across the street. An adult (a school official) was tending to a boy, lying on his back, his head pillowed on his backpack. There was another boy, around six years old, with a bloody nose and a bloody ankle, freaking out on the lawn nearby, and a hysterical girl on the phone to her father screaming, "I told them it was a bad idea, I told them it was a bad idea!" pacing behind him.

It turns out, these two bananas thought it would be a SMASHING idea to zoom down the hill with the six year old on the crotch-bar of the twelve-year-old's bike. Sure enough, they went eggs over toaster, and chaos ensued-- the kid on the ground had what looked to be a mild concussion and would probably need stitches. The kid on the grass needed someone to baby a deep scrape and to blow his bloody nose with due gentleness.

Anyway, as I pulled up, I thought, "Oh shit. Oh shit--this needs another adult--someone has to calm that heifer down." And I was right. First I calmed the little boy down, then I got the girl to cough up her cell phone and gave her dad succinct directions to their location, and then someone suggested towels for the little boy's bloody ankle and to lay him down, so I called across the street (to Sam's mom) and Sam's mom brought us some old towels and we tried to keep things calm until the ambulance got there.

It did. Ambulance got there, girl FINALLY stopped screaming (I lost patience with that crap--the boys were going to be fine, and no good ever came from shrieking "I TOLD YOU SO" at an accident scene) and I got to get in my car and pull away-- a half an hour later.

And then I had to go pick up T, who had stayed late for tutoring in Geometry.

And then I had to take the famdamily through McDonalds. Because it was Tuesday, and that's what we do on Tuesday.

And then I had to go back through drivethru because they fucked up my order the first time around.

And the second time around took 1/2 an hour.

So there were were, in the middle of our second round through drivethru, and I've got my music up full blast so I don't kill something, and I'm taking tentative, life-affirming sips from my extra large, diet violating Caramel Frappe. This is when Big T says, "You know, I could have gone to tutoring at lunch today, but I didn't, because I really wanted to visit my teacher face to face. I'm glad I did that."

I looked back at him, and then Chicken (who was sitting next to me) looked back at him, and then I sucked down a quarter of my Caramel Frappe in one big inhale and then Chicken took it from me and wiped out another quarter.

T took one look at us, glaring at him, and said, "What? What? I don't understand why this is upsetting you."

Grumbling to ourselves, we settled in for the rest of the fifteen minutes of drivethru hell.

When I got home, the Caramel Frappe had given me the runs. We got to dance class with barely 1/2 an hour left in her lessons, and I called it a win.

* 'Phonebook'. In spite of the fact that it's out on the second of June, (and Truth in the Dark is out on the 16th) "Phonebook", my short story sequel to "Shirt", in the Curious anthology, is not up on the website. Why?

It appears that the banner on the book page will not take the words 'ebook' or 'paperback'-- now, I know I've told you this before, but I think it bears repeating, because the book is still not up--and I KNOW they've been working on it. I think it's just funny how sometimes the WEIRDEST shit can just totally get in your way.

* I have seven active pairs of socks on the needles. I think this indicates some stress. Just a guess.

* The cat is still alive. My big hope is that he lives until my next royalty check, so we can stop calling him that.

* My final is almost done. I think it's safe to say I'm not a total slacker, nor a total failure.

* I'm actually sort of liking my kids right now. Let's see how much I like them on the last day of school... but right now, even the total bananas make me happy. Could be because I was absolute toast on Friday and let them watch a funny episode of Supernatural while they worked on their stuff. That made everybody happy. Including me.

And happy is where I'm going to leave it. Wait-- I've got one more story.

See, the title of the post is 'Sleepy Saturdays... sort of', and the reason it's sort of is because we had gymnastics practice this morning, and then we took the kids to sign up for soccer in the afternoon. So, we were in line at soccer sign ups, when one of the ladies (mom of one of Bryar's longtime friends) and I start talking--and I'm so excited to talk to Lily's mom, I can't even begin to tell you. So she asks me how the writing is going, and I tell her, "Pretty good, actually." I mention that I've got two novellas and a short story out in June and I'm really excited and the woman in front of us turns around and goes, "Wow. You publish?"

It occurred to me then. I mean, I'm going to be ripping my nails out in June. I'm going to be a big, fuzzy yarn-puppy of stress, just hoping Truth in the Dark and Litha's Constant Whim don't suck! Not one story, but THREE! What if I fuck this up beyond complete and total redemption? What if I really, truly do suck?

But here I am, anticipating this because I know myself, and this woman, who had sent in query after query to agents, was all excited for me. And, hullo. I guess I'm sort of, kind of, maybe a little, successful at this bizarre little hobby, aren't I?

Wow.

But that's not going to stop me from saying it. Anyone want to join in?

Holy Goddess, Merciful God, LET THEM NOT SUCK!