The weather here in nor-cal is grungy--it's what Seattle wishes the weather was like all the time just to live up to it's rep! (I actually love Seattle, btw...one of the prettiest cities outside of San Francisco and Victoria that I've ever been to! But then, those of you who've traveled Europe, I'm sure, have better favorites than mine:-)
So...grungy weather, a family riding the fine edge of being sick, kids riding the fine edge between 'oh, poor baby, you don't feel well?' and 'no jury on earth would convict me', and a house that was actually clean more than twice in the course of the week...what to do?
Knit and watch old episodes of 'Firefly' on DVR. (Okay--I want a personal tete a tete with the @$$holes who canceled that show. I swear I wouldn't hurt them. Much.)
It was awesome--and I was just on the fine edge of having my brain explode out my ears as it was. There's nothing like being 'almost' sick to prompt a record binge of knitting. I finished the scarf for the kid I love, and started the scarf for the kid who's promised not to be a bitch to me and got heavily invested in my ravelry. (I need to start that whole 'flickr' thing so I can put pictures on--but then, we've seen my luck with pictures w/blogspot, so we'll just have to cross our fingers and hope for the best. *sigh*)
We managed to survive the lockdown on Friday--but if you look at the comments you'll see that Lady In Red might possibly need some heavy duty massage therapy--she was in the same room with the mutants during that THREE HOUR disaster, so I'd be the first to pitch in on the gift certificate. Oh--and by the way? While stuck in the same room with his least favorite 9th graders, my curmudgeonly my-way-or-the-highway-your-kids-are-tardy-so-you-suck colleague got bored enough to read the blog. He seemed to take exception to that last epithet, so I decided to call him that until my fingers fall off from having to type the whole thing. (Are you reading, Mr.--? Remember--savor the irony!!!)
Oh yeah!!! And speaking of lurkers!!! Don't forget--IF YOU DON'T COMMENT, I CAN'T REMEMBER TO PUT YOUR NAME IN THE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS!!! Someone just reminded me that they read all the time, and I realized that, although this person has contacted me via email frequently (and y'all know I treasure that) I don't remember if she's commented or not, or if she's done the other name thing or what, and I thought that this was one of the people who should have had her name mentioned but she didn't!!! (Goodwitch, I'm talking to you, darlin'--I'll do my best to get you in the next one!!!)
Oh yeah--and if you look at the comments from the last post (you know, the one where I gloated about amazon, because, uhm, I'm a narcissist who does that...) and the first feedback (besides my editing team whom I adore...j'et adore, j'et adore, I couldn't love you all anymore!) is that the book is satisfactory, and my (many) prayers have been answered. It very possibly DOESN'T suck, and we won't have to hear Amy Lane's prayer of insecurity for at least another six or seven months.
*whew* And the nice lady who's been my unofficial biographer just contacted me with an absolutely HUGE LIST of stuff I could/should/may remember how to do with marketing. She included the 'Teron Angel' reviews, and she's right--I really need to yank the Teron Angel reviews. I actually tried once, to do a customer service call to get into that account, but the lady on the other end of the line seemed so totally confused that when our phone connection died (because that happens in my house) I just let it go. But the bigger I get the more embarrassed I am about them. And for some reason amazon put the one I wrote for Vulnerable on the front page. Everytime it gets a positive vote I just cringe. When I had one book out, and six reviews, it was kind of cute that one of them was mine. Not so cute now, oh no, it's really not. It's not even cute on Library Thing. Okay. Well. It's sort of cute. When I put myself on libary thing, I just found out it existed, and had not yet taken the 'towering ego of the insecure' antidote--i.e., most of last year--and I giggled as I did it. It still makes me giggle. I'm kind of a sick puppy sometimes--can't explain it. But for everyone who doesn't know, Teron Angel is Amy Lane, and when I was desperately in need of recognition or some sort of press (you know, like last month, when I discovered Tribe.net, Goodread, and Summize?) , well, sister did it for herself. When I'm big, that's gonna hit the airwaves like Cassie Edwards' sad taste in 1930's literature, and I'm gonna need all of you at my back saying, "But she told us this already!!!"
And I'm off and running on the next book. Seriously--it's about 1/3 done . Is that good? I don't know. Seriously--I'm at a loss as to whether that's good or not. All I can think is that, if I write about 4 pages a day, I can make the deadline. I also know that the Harlot told us that her books are between 50 & 60 thousand words. And that's how many words I've got in 1/4 of BMoonII. That either means I talk to much or that fiction is a strange and tricky animal--I haven't figured out which one yet.
Anyway, that's the state of the state, and now I must play with my children (some more--it's been a good day for that) and clean my kitchen:-)
Ciou!
318
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
And that, yerhonor, is why I got shot.
First of all, thank you everybody. You're all so awesome--is it any wonder that you ended up in the acknowledgments? (Hee hee...I love that part!!!)
And second of all, I need to explain why I'm blogging in the middle of what should be my 3rd period class.
I was home yesterday with the Cave Troll and Ladybug--our little man is sick, so he got to run around in his jammies a lot with this awesome blanket he got for Christmas--it's got a decorated hood and hands, so he just throws it over his head, and, VOILA! Instant boy-dragon. Ladybug got a kitty cat too--but since her new game is having us put on the dog leash and taking her for 'walks' up and down the hall (and, apparently, giving her food on the ground so she can eat on all fours like the cat--we didn't do this on purpose, we'd leave the room and find her like that-Oi!) she's not so into it.
Anyway, in case you were wondering how I got to spend so much time on-line, thereyago.
Now, about blogging at 10:05 on a Friday.
It all started when I went to the bathroom. I had about ten minutes at the end of my prep period, the staff bathroom was empty, and, hey, remember that I share a bathroom with five other people at home, and the fact that one of them isn't potty trained doesn't mean she doesn't need to wander in on occasion to see what I'm doing there.
So, uhm...you know...Quality Time. With a capital D.
And that's when the announcement for a lockdown went over the airwaves.
When I was, uhm, having Quality Time. You know. With a capital D.
So there I am, when my Quality Time is over, stuck in the staffroom. My first thought? NO knitting. My second? Goddammit--my i-pod is on in my room, running, providing random air with musical enjoyment while I am here, in the godforsaken entertainment desert of my own mind. My third thought? I really can entertain myself--but a computer would be wonderful, because this moment was EXCELLENT blogfodder. I don't remember what my fourth thought was because that's when I settled in for a nap. 1/2 an hour later, I wake up and call Mate, because today HE'S home with the short people, and, well, anything was better than the leaden silence of a blank, empty room, right?
Well, that was a pointless conversation. And now...now I'm still ALONE IN AN EMPTY ROOM WITH NO DIVERSIONS TO SPEAK OF.
And that's when I decided that I'd rather be shot dead than this bored.
So I took my life in both hands and ran across the quad. One of the vice principals was out, checking rooms. She glared at me. But you know what? I think an hour is good. I think I should get a B+ in Lockdown because that was an hour in a dark empty room without my knitting!
And if I hadn't broken and run? It would, at this very moment, be an hour and a half.
I think I'm showing movies for the rest of the day. Don't quote me on this--but an hour and a half out of our schedule? If it gets to be two, what's that gonna leave us? Second period is over, third is on the way out, and I'm gonna get a write up for getting stuck in the bathroom.
Having Quality Time. With a capital D.
And second of all, I need to explain why I'm blogging in the middle of what should be my 3rd period class.
I was home yesterday with the Cave Troll and Ladybug--our little man is sick, so he got to run around in his jammies a lot with this awesome blanket he got for Christmas--it's got a decorated hood and hands, so he just throws it over his head, and, VOILA! Instant boy-dragon. Ladybug got a kitty cat too--but since her new game is having us put on the dog leash and taking her for 'walks' up and down the hall (and, apparently, giving her food on the ground so she can eat on all fours like the cat--we didn't do this on purpose, we'd leave the room and find her like that-Oi!) she's not so into it.
Anyway, in case you were wondering how I got to spend so much time on-line, thereyago.
Now, about blogging at 10:05 on a Friday.
It all started when I went to the bathroom. I had about ten minutes at the end of my prep period, the staff bathroom was empty, and, hey, remember that I share a bathroom with five other people at home, and the fact that one of them isn't potty trained doesn't mean she doesn't need to wander in on occasion to see what I'm doing there.
So, uhm...you know...Quality Time. With a capital D.
And that's when the announcement for a lockdown went over the airwaves.
When I was, uhm, having Quality Time. You know. With a capital D.
So there I am, when my Quality Time is over, stuck in the staffroom. My first thought? NO knitting. My second? Goddammit--my i-pod is on in my room, running, providing random air with musical enjoyment while I am here, in the godforsaken entertainment desert of my own mind. My third thought? I really can entertain myself--but a computer would be wonderful, because this moment was EXCELLENT blogfodder. I don't remember what my fourth thought was because that's when I settled in for a nap. 1/2 an hour later, I wake up and call Mate, because today HE'S home with the short people, and, well, anything was better than the leaden silence of a blank, empty room, right?
Well, that was a pointless conversation. And now...now I'm still ALONE IN AN EMPTY ROOM WITH NO DIVERSIONS TO SPEAK OF.
And that's when I decided that I'd rather be shot dead than this bored.
So I took my life in both hands and ran across the quad. One of the vice principals was out, checking rooms. She glared at me. But you know what? I think an hour is good. I think I should get a B+ in Lockdown because that was an hour in a dark empty room without my knitting!
And if I hadn't broken and run? It would, at this very moment, be an hour and a half.
I think I'm showing movies for the rest of the day. Don't quote me on this--but an hour and a half out of our schedule? If it gets to be two, what's that gonna leave us? Second period is over, third is on the way out, and I'm gonna get a write up for getting stuck in the bathroom.
Having Quality Time. With a capital D.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Cloudy with a chance of crap-all
Well...nothing to blog about really. I mean, uhm, REALLY nothing to blog about that comes in any cohesive form, so I'm gonna do the shot-gun blog approach with a solid wad of crap-all ammunition. Uhm...EVERYBODY DUCK!
* On Monday, the Cave Troll handed me my driving glasses when I was not prepared for them. As a family we haven't seen them since. I'm using my old glasses--the ones that have been missing an arm since Ladybug decided it worked better as a dolly-prod. They stay on my face just fine, but the headache they give me is spectacular.
* I got my ravelry, but I got it here at work, so I have no time to explore it and set up or anything until I get home. I have no idea how to do it from home, now that I have the page set up here on earth. *urgh* When I die, my bones are going to go in a case with John McClane's as one of the last technological dinosaurs to survive into the 21st century.
* I'm really excited about getting my Ravelry. I hope I have time to do more than just explore!
* Yesterday, in the middle of my 6th period class, right after I got done telling the kids to calm down, they could see all the news on Heath Ledger at home, my grumpiest, most "my-way-or-the-highway-your-damned-tardy-kids-are-interrupting-my- classes-and-that-means-you-suck" colleague calls me up in the middle of class.
He called to tell me that Heath Ledger had died.
* I have two more baby hat/booties to make. But I bought the BESTEST BEST worsted weight yarn for at least one of them. It's soooooooooo Al-paca-wool-not-quite-white-pastel that I almost want another kid to make a blanket with this yarn.
But it's hand-wash only, so I'll keep it at 'almost'.
* Bitter Moon I: Triane's Son Ascending is in the printing stage--it should be showing up on the websites within a week or so. As soon as I see it, you'll be able to hear my e-squeal all the way around the world to Bells and Tinkingbell. (smirk)
* I sent Ladybug to daycare in her pajamas today. She loves those pajamas not quite as much as she loves me, or beating up her brother, but definitely more than the cat. I just didn't have the heart to take them off when she was so set on wearing them. It's a cold, nasty, windy day, and if I could teach in my pajamas, dammit, I would. Let's face it, when we grow up, we HAVE to wear real clothes. Before we're two, at least, we should be allowed to wear our squishy, ice-cream-colored, fleece-footie-pajamas as many times as mom can possibly wash them.
* Oh yeah--my 'Ravelry name is 'Cory'. I don't know why I did that. I think it was because, for a moment there, I forgot my real name ISN'T Amy Lane!!!
* Has anybody seen 'The Sarah Connor Chronicles'? BRILLIANT if you like your sci-fi raw, action-packed, and angst-filled. And the chick who was in Serenity is still SMASHING at giving me the willies!!!
* Speaking of giving me the willies, I made the Cave Troll's character in Bitter Moon II a cheerfully ambisexual wastrel, with a side-dish of cold-blooded-murderer. How twisted am I that I really like this character at the same time I'm fervently hoping my real son grows up to be nothing like him? The scene where he kills for the first time (in defense of his family, of course) actually gave me the chills. It was AWESOME. I hope.
* Chicken made scrunchies to raise pocket money for Australia. She's a good Chicken, and we loves her very much, yes we does!
* *sigh* I agreed to make another scarf--apparently IN MY SLEEP since it's obvious that I have no time otherwise. But this kid is SO NICE, and I've had her for two years... and *sigh* Someone told me there was a free *sucker* tattoo for my forehead in the offering, so here I am, planning something I probably won't deliver until June.
* Oh yeah--tired of the texture of my hair (as opposed to the color, which I was growing accustomed to) I finally decided to go ahead and dye my hair. I was aiming at a color found in nature.
No such luck. High-Sidhe-Blood-Red, anybody?
So...I fired my crap-all-munition into the stratosphere...what did I hit?
* On Monday, the Cave Troll handed me my driving glasses when I was not prepared for them. As a family we haven't seen them since. I'm using my old glasses--the ones that have been missing an arm since Ladybug decided it worked better as a dolly-prod. They stay on my face just fine, but the headache they give me is spectacular.
* I got my ravelry, but I got it here at work, so I have no time to explore it and set up or anything until I get home. I have no idea how to do it from home, now that I have the page set up here on earth. *urgh* When I die, my bones are going to go in a case with John McClane's as one of the last technological dinosaurs to survive into the 21st century.
* I'm really excited about getting my Ravelry. I hope I have time to do more than just explore!
* Yesterday, in the middle of my 6th period class, right after I got done telling the kids to calm down, they could see all the news on Heath Ledger at home, my grumpiest, most "my-way-or-the-highway-your-damned-tardy-kids-are-interrupting-my- classes-and-that-means-you-suck" colleague calls me up in the middle of class.
He called to tell me that Heath Ledger had died.
* I have two more baby hat/booties to make. But I bought the BESTEST BEST worsted weight yarn for at least one of them. It's soooooooooo Al-paca-wool-not-quite-white-pastel that I almost want another kid to make a blanket with this yarn.
But it's hand-wash only, so I'll keep it at 'almost'.
* Bitter Moon I: Triane's Son Ascending is in the printing stage--it should be showing up on the websites within a week or so. As soon as I see it, you'll be able to hear my e-squeal all the way around the world to Bells and Tinkingbell. (smirk)
* I sent Ladybug to daycare in her pajamas today. She loves those pajamas not quite as much as she loves me, or beating up her brother, but definitely more than the cat. I just didn't have the heart to take them off when she was so set on wearing them. It's a cold, nasty, windy day, and if I could teach in my pajamas, dammit, I would. Let's face it, when we grow up, we HAVE to wear real clothes. Before we're two, at least, we should be allowed to wear our squishy, ice-cream-colored, fleece-footie-pajamas as many times as mom can possibly wash them.
* Oh yeah--my 'Ravelry name is 'Cory'. I don't know why I did that. I think it was because, for a moment there, I forgot my real name ISN'T Amy Lane!!!
* Has anybody seen 'The Sarah Connor Chronicles'? BRILLIANT if you like your sci-fi raw, action-packed, and angst-filled. And the chick who was in Serenity is still SMASHING at giving me the willies!!!
* Speaking of giving me the willies, I made the Cave Troll's character in Bitter Moon II a cheerfully ambisexual wastrel, with a side-dish of cold-blooded-murderer. How twisted am I that I really like this character at the same time I'm fervently hoping my real son grows up to be nothing like him? The scene where he kills for the first time (in defense of his family, of course) actually gave me the chills. It was AWESOME. I hope.
* Chicken made scrunchies to raise pocket money for Australia. She's a good Chicken, and we loves her very much, yes we does!
* *sigh* I agreed to make another scarf--apparently IN MY SLEEP since it's obvious that I have no time otherwise. But this kid is SO NICE, and I've had her for two years... and *sigh* Someone told me there was a free *sucker* tattoo for my forehead in the offering, so here I am, planning something I probably won't deliver until June.
* Oh yeah--tired of the texture of my hair (as opposed to the color, which I was growing accustomed to) I finally decided to go ahead and dye my hair. I was aiming at a color found in nature.
No such luck. High-Sidhe-Blood-Red, anybody?
So...I fired my crap-all-munition into the stratosphere...what did I hit?
Monday, January 21, 2008
Cows again...
Chicken and I went to the craft store today and took the short people with us. All went well until the end, nearing nap time, when the Cave Troll was gearing himself up for a huge tizzy fit, and I took the wind out of his sails.
"Is that a real cow?" I asked. "I don't think so. That doesn't sound like a real cow. In fact, I don't think you have a cow. I want my money back. The next time you have a cow, I expect a real show!"
It worked for a bit--for about five minutes he was quiet, trying to figure out what his crazy mama was really saying, and if he could work it into his 'pitching-a-fit' act.
After the five minutes was up, he gave an anticipatory whine.
"What's wrong now?" I asked brusquely.
"I lost it!" He wailed.
"Lost what?" I asked.
"I lost my cow, mama! The cow is gone!"
Chicken and I didn't stop laughing until we got home.
"Is that a real cow?" I asked. "I don't think so. That doesn't sound like a real cow. In fact, I don't think you have a cow. I want my money back. The next time you have a cow, I expect a real show!"
It worked for a bit--for about five minutes he was quiet, trying to figure out what his crazy mama was really saying, and if he could work it into his 'pitching-a-fit' act.
After the five minutes was up, he gave an anticipatory whine.
"What's wrong now?" I asked brusquely.
"I lost it!" He wailed.
"Lost what?" I asked.
"I lost my cow, mama! The cow is gone!"
Chicken and I didn't stop laughing until we got home.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Thanks, Knittech:-)
You paid attention during 91% of high school!
85-100% You must be an autodidact, because American high schools don't get scores that high! Good show, old chap!
Do you deserve your high school diploma?
Create a Quiz
Sooner or Later, Everyone Goes to the Zoo...
(Name that movie, anybody?)
Anyway--we went to the zoo today. I love our zoo--lions and tigers and mangabeys, oh my! There were tigers laying on mama, margay's itching their chins, and chimpanzees throwing pooh--really, everything children need to see to grow up big, strong, and just itching for a summer internship shoveling shit for pennies.
Can I knit now?
Seriously--I've gotten caught in sort of a weird, non-knitting situation. I want to knit--but all of my knitting time has been sucked up by my writing time. And usually I manage this sort of thing better--but I've had a blessing fall into my lap, someone who has volunteered not only to clean up my query letter (in this case, my e-query letter) but who wanted to help edit the first three chapters of *Vulnerable* and you just don't say no to someone who is doing this, cheerfully, because she believes firmly in good writing and good karma (!) because your body is screaming "Knit! Knit now you kninny! Your mental hygiene is slipping and your thoughts are getting all nasty with cynicism and if you don't settle yourself into the simplicity of knitting, your face will assume that position...there...that one...with your eyebrows drown together and brackets at the side of your mouth...YES! THAT ONE RIGHT THERE! STOP LOOKING LIKE THAT AND FOR CRAP'S SAKE, KNIT!"
And it doesn't help that I don't deserve this attention. I mean, I must not. because here this nice lady gives me perfectly sound advice for how to alter that paragraph on the second page--the really long one, about cows rotting and mother nature not really giving a fuck--and I like her rewrites. I DO. They're solid, and professional and concise--and all she did was hit the paragraph spacer a couple of times. Voila! Better writing.
And I'm saying no?
Seriously--what kind of farging icehole am I?
Well. Apparently, I'm a farging icehole who doesn't deserve to knit.
Or publish big.
*sigh*
But the zoo rocked, the kids were thrilled--Ladybug can talk a lot, and she was making snake noises and tiger noises and chimpanzee noises. (We drew the line at the pooh-throwing. Really, there's only one genus that can do that, and it's not the human one.) The Cave Troll thought was thrilled--he's naked now, but he loved the zoo even when he was wearing clothes. (Okay--that didn't make sense--I just wanted to point out that for no reason at all he took off his threads and has been running around with his little Calvin ass flapping in the wind, and since Ladybug's bathing in the sink as i write this, I thought I'd just wait until she was done and put his naked-Calvin-ass in the sink after her. Since we still HAVE NO BATHROOM. 1.3 years, people. It's not funny anymore!)
So, maybe I'll have to stick with the mama thing, since apparently no one is willing to help me with that edit. A good thing too, because apparently I'd have to rip their throats out. Who knew I was such a ball of insecurity and fierceness?
(Yeah. You all knew, didn't you. You knew.)
Anyway--we went to the zoo today. I love our zoo--lions and tigers and mangabeys, oh my! There were tigers laying on mama, margay's itching their chins, and chimpanzees throwing pooh--really, everything children need to see to grow up big, strong, and just itching for a summer internship shoveling shit for pennies.
Can I knit now?
Seriously--I've gotten caught in sort of a weird, non-knitting situation. I want to knit--but all of my knitting time has been sucked up by my writing time. And usually I manage this sort of thing better--but I've had a blessing fall into my lap, someone who has volunteered not only to clean up my query letter (in this case, my e-query letter) but who wanted to help edit the first three chapters of *Vulnerable* and you just don't say no to someone who is doing this, cheerfully, because she believes firmly in good writing and good karma (!) because your body is screaming "Knit! Knit now you kninny! Your mental hygiene is slipping and your thoughts are getting all nasty with cynicism and if you don't settle yourself into the simplicity of knitting, your face will assume that position...there...that one...with your eyebrows drown together and brackets at the side of your mouth...YES! THAT ONE RIGHT THERE! STOP LOOKING LIKE THAT AND FOR CRAP'S SAKE, KNIT!"
And it doesn't help that I don't deserve this attention. I mean, I must not. because here this nice lady gives me perfectly sound advice for how to alter that paragraph on the second page--the really long one, about cows rotting and mother nature not really giving a fuck--and I like her rewrites. I DO. They're solid, and professional and concise--and all she did was hit the paragraph spacer a couple of times. Voila! Better writing.
And I'm saying no?
Seriously--what kind of farging icehole am I?
Well. Apparently, I'm a farging icehole who doesn't deserve to knit.
Or publish big.
*sigh*
But the zoo rocked, the kids were thrilled--Ladybug can talk a lot, and she was making snake noises and tiger noises and chimpanzee noises. (We drew the line at the pooh-throwing. Really, there's only one genus that can do that, and it's not the human one.) The Cave Troll thought was thrilled--he's naked now, but he loved the zoo even when he was wearing clothes. (Okay--that didn't make sense--I just wanted to point out that for no reason at all he took off his threads and has been running around with his little Calvin ass flapping in the wind, and since Ladybug's bathing in the sink as i write this, I thought I'd just wait until she was done and put his naked-Calvin-ass in the sink after her. Since we still HAVE NO BATHROOM. 1.3 years, people. It's not funny anymore!)
So, maybe I'll have to stick with the mama thing, since apparently no one is willing to help me with that edit. A good thing too, because apparently I'd have to rip their throats out. Who knew I was such a ball of insecurity and fierceness?
(Yeah. You all knew, didn't you. You knew.)
Friday, January 18, 2008
@#$%!$%%
&^%$$&*Phone system...the call in phone system at school was changed. I spent an hour last night searching my house for my @#$%$#@ PIN number and trying to find the one page on the website that explained how to call in for a @#$%$## sub because, dammit, I felt like crap and I had to enroll the cave troll in Kindergarten and I was taking the @#$$# day off. I actually had to SOB before I could get Mate to take seriously the level of stress about this matter--but it worked. One sob and he magically reached into some bizarre corner I had overlooked and found the phone. Bless his @#$$%#@@%&* heart.
@#%%## School System... Chicken and I hauled the two short people in to the local District Office to sign the Cave Troll up for one school and Chicken up for another, and as it turned out, we were not only two pieces of paperwork short for the Cave Troll (the garbage bill wouldn't do, apparently, it HAD to be the electricity bill. WTF? Are we going to pay for trash pickup in a house we don't pay for power? If we hadn't been completely unable to dredge up the government sanctioned proof that there was a real Cave Troll who really lived in our house with apparently no power but no garbage either, I might have pitched a typhoon-class tizzy about that one.) But then, after I get them both signed up to go to anywhere but our home schools (the district allows for open registration) I was told that, apparently, I now had to sign Cave Troll up for his home school as well. Why? Is it not enough that we want to get him the hell out there? (Chicken went there for a year. She got behind in math, because her entire math class sucked so very very badly that the teacher kept sending her and one other girl out to the computer lab for math tutorials because that was the only way someone was going to learn something. Damn. I wish MY school would let me do that. One of my most pain-in-the-ass students told me that the counselor wouldn't move him to my 6th period class this year, because, in her words, 'She'd rather die than sit through that class'. Nice.) Anyway, my day off was over--it's Mate's turn to battle public school idiocracy now. Of course, we both realized that we're spoiled. We put Chicken in private school for a couple of years, and Big T was sort of swept out of our control into the loving arms of Special Ed services, and really, this is the first time we've had to worry about such a thing. Seriously--we've been parents for 15 years, and this is the first kid we've had to register for Kindergarten. Anyway, back to *&^%%&
(*&%###% Virus. My head's stuffed, my body aches, and all I want to do is sit and knit, but I've taken five days off of Bitter Moon II, and one of my most crushing fears in the middle of any book is that I won't ever finish it. It's almost psychotic, the way I'm driven to finish a work, or at least show a good faith effort to it almost every day. So I'm going to MAKE myself write two pages--even if it's crap, crap can be cut or fixed until it's not crap, but getting out of the habit cannot be so easily changed. I sent off the okay for Bitter Moon I: Triane's Son Ascending last night. So, that's about four weeks waiting for it to appear on sale online and for my own copies, and then about three weeks waiting for someone to read it and about another week or two chewing my nails to the quick and waiting for a review. Are we ready? Can we all say this together? Do we need it printed in the program or do we have it memorized? Holy Goddess, Merciful God, Let. It. Not. Suck. Amen.
*&^%$* Me. Mate offered to let me take the tall people to the movies. I was gonna--I really was. And then it occurred to me that the short people were exhausted. They would be asleep really soon. And in the meantime, it would be me, and (get this) A QUIET HOUSE. And so it is. And it's lovely--truly beautiful. The television isn't even on. And here's the reason I suck--all of this quietude, and I can't but help feeling guilty for not spending time with the tall people.
@##%%^$#@@#%%^^& parental guilt. It's like an itchy coat--need it to keep warm, but it's not all that comfy in the long run. I'm gonna go knit with something that doesn't itch and makes me happy, before I break out in hives.
@#%%## School System... Chicken and I hauled the two short people in to the local District Office to sign the Cave Troll up for one school and Chicken up for another, and as it turned out, we were not only two pieces of paperwork short for the Cave Troll (the garbage bill wouldn't do, apparently, it HAD to be the electricity bill. WTF? Are we going to pay for trash pickup in a house we don't pay for power? If we hadn't been completely unable to dredge up the government sanctioned proof that there was a real Cave Troll who really lived in our house with apparently no power but no garbage either, I might have pitched a typhoon-class tizzy about that one.) But then, after I get them both signed up to go to anywhere but our home schools (the district allows for open registration) I was told that, apparently, I now had to sign Cave Troll up for his home school as well. Why? Is it not enough that we want to get him the hell out there? (Chicken went there for a year. She got behind in math, because her entire math class sucked so very very badly that the teacher kept sending her and one other girl out to the computer lab for math tutorials because that was the only way someone was going to learn something. Damn. I wish MY school would let me do that. One of my most pain-in-the-ass students told me that the counselor wouldn't move him to my 6th period class this year, because, in her words, 'She'd rather die than sit through that class'. Nice.) Anyway, my day off was over--it's Mate's turn to battle public school idiocracy now. Of course, we both realized that we're spoiled. We put Chicken in private school for a couple of years, and Big T was sort of swept out of our control into the loving arms of Special Ed services, and really, this is the first time we've had to worry about such a thing. Seriously--we've been parents for 15 years, and this is the first kid we've had to register for Kindergarten. Anyway, back to *&^%%&
(*&%###% Virus. My head's stuffed, my body aches, and all I want to do is sit and knit, but I've taken five days off of Bitter Moon II, and one of my most crushing fears in the middle of any book is that I won't ever finish it. It's almost psychotic, the way I'm driven to finish a work, or at least show a good faith effort to it almost every day. So I'm going to MAKE myself write two pages--even if it's crap, crap can be cut or fixed until it's not crap, but getting out of the habit cannot be so easily changed. I sent off the okay for Bitter Moon I: Triane's Son Ascending last night. So, that's about four weeks waiting for it to appear on sale online and for my own copies, and then about three weeks waiting for someone to read it and about another week or two chewing my nails to the quick and waiting for a review. Are we ready? Can we all say this together? Do we need it printed in the program or do we have it memorized? Holy Goddess, Merciful God, Let. It. Not. Suck. Amen.
*&^%$* Me. Mate offered to let me take the tall people to the movies. I was gonna--I really was. And then it occurred to me that the short people were exhausted. They would be asleep really soon. And in the meantime, it would be me, and (get this) A QUIET HOUSE. And so it is. And it's lovely--truly beautiful. The television isn't even on. And here's the reason I suck--all of this quietude, and I can't but help feeling guilty for not spending time with the tall people.
@##%%^$#@@#%%^^& parental guilt. It's like an itchy coat--need it to keep warm, but it's not all that comfy in the long run. I'm gonna go knit with something that doesn't itch and makes me happy, before I break out in hives.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
It started out innocently enough...
It all started with a picture on my whiteboard.
I drew a gorge.
There was a reason for the picture--I was trying to illustrate how gorge (the ravine) turned into gorge (the gullet) and then meant gorge (to stuff your face until you hurl).
That's not what the picture looked like, though. As my fifth period informed me, when they walked in and saw it on the whiteboard, what it really looked like, was, a 'Vajayjay'.
It didn't help that two words later, we hit 'granary', and then Ms. Lane had to draw a grain silo to show them what a granary looked like. Uhm, it didn't look like a 'granary'. In fact, it looked a lot like an item used specifically to penetrate an, uhm, 'gorge'.
The next word was 'gull'--meaning 'to trick or fool'
And then came 'guile'--the quality that one needs in order to 'gull' a 'gull' into doing your bidding.
The final word was 'hilarity'--but I skip ahead.
After 'guile' came 'gyrate'--as in (are you with me? Because the kids got it!) "The 'granary' used 'guile' to 'gull' the 'gorge' into 'gyrating' all night long."
And the term 'whiteboard porn' was born, and much 'hilarity' ensued.
I drew a gorge.
There was a reason for the picture--I was trying to illustrate how gorge (the ravine) turned into gorge (the gullet) and then meant gorge (to stuff your face until you hurl).
That's not what the picture looked like, though. As my fifth period informed me, when they walked in and saw it on the whiteboard, what it really looked like, was, a 'Vajayjay'.
It didn't help that two words later, we hit 'granary', and then Ms. Lane had to draw a grain silo to show them what a granary looked like. Uhm, it didn't look like a 'granary'. In fact, it looked a lot like an item used specifically to penetrate an, uhm, 'gorge'.
The next word was 'gull'--meaning 'to trick or fool'
And then came 'guile'--the quality that one needs in order to 'gull' a 'gull' into doing your bidding.
The final word was 'hilarity'--but I skip ahead.
After 'guile' came 'gyrate'--as in (are you with me? Because the kids got it!) "The 'granary' used 'guile' to 'gull' the 'gorge' into 'gyrating' all night long."
And the term 'whiteboard porn' was born, and much 'hilarity' ensued.
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