The Cave Troll had six zillion melt downs this week, and Arwyn got called on being 'princessy' three out of four days in the week. There was really only one solution:
A day off. They slept in, and Ladybug got to sit next to me, singing the Powerpuff theme while I caught that last ten minutes. I remember when my other kids were this little, and I had just gone back to work--I used to just power them through these stages, and pray that I was doing the right thing. It wasn't much of a decision, because Mate was still in school and I was the main breadwinner and I didn't have tenure. I remember crying all the way to work a lot more then than I do now, so I guess the Mental Health Day really does serve it's purpose.
Anyway, I've made breakfast, taken steps to clean the kitchen, blown bubbles and read books and given lots and lots of hugs. If I can just shake that nagging desire to go to the far away LYS for some more of that squishy rainbow yarn (it's so loosely spun it's almost roving) that the kids love so much, I might be able to keep the Mental Health Day all about mooching about the house and watching the same @#$%ing movie 6,567,983 times in a row. (Disney's 'The Wild'-- if it wasn't for the fact that Kiefer Sutherland's voice is making me horny and Eddie Izzard's is helping to keep me that way, I'd say it's the worst movie ever made.)
Anyway, the only bad thing about giving yourself a day off is that you become the world's most boring human: no book stats to report (sales are so slow I'm thinking that the entire 'Amy Lane' market has been tapped and I might as well give up now), no English weenie teachers to talk about...just me and the house grunion, fighting a multi-front war against detritus. If it wasn't for the pscycho-kitten attacking my feet, I'd say we were all dying of boredom.
Of course, the truth would be closer to the fact that we're catching up on our sleep. I'll try for some WIP & FO pix...and maybe some charming pictures of my goombahs and their boogers (because there isn't enough filth on the internet as it is...) but first I'm gonna see what sort of crap is under this row of chairs in the back of my kitchen...
And the only way I'll report back on that is if it's an acceptance letter that got lost in the mail. We all have our priorities, after all.
Friday, November 9, 2007
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Boogers, redux!
My friend was just over to visit--I showed her Chicken's post with the pictures, and whilst I bathed Ladybug, she perused other blog entries. She hit the one where the Cave Troll told me that what he had eaten was most definitely NOT deodorant and said, "Cave Troll--did you eat BOOGERS? How gross!"
I was not in the room, but by her account, he said, "No-its not gross. It's boogers!" And then he pulled one out and showed it to her.
I'm going to hell for procreating, I just know it!
But otherwise, I have another FO--I'm not even going to try to show them to you, because Big T's been wearing them all day, and honestly, I'm afraid the camera would break from the odor. Suffice it to say that I finally finished Big T's camoflage socks--go me! Today, I started immediately on the hat/sockies set for my co-worker--it's in this sockyarn that's SOOOOO very beautiful...soft rose, soft blue, soft green...it's like water colors. LUUUUUUURRRRVVVEEE that Cherry Tree Hill sport-weight.
And other than that? I was going to talk about Fed Ex...but all I can seem to come up with is "The fucking Fed-Ex fuckers fucking fucked me a-fucking-gain."
*sigh* Obviously I just don't have enough distance from the crimes of the incompetent fuckers at Fed Ex to even blog about it. I'll get there. I'll whip up a blazing post that cooks them at their desks as they sit, without even knowing why or what or how, but in the meantime, suffice it to say that from now on, I'm going UPS.
But, on the work front, I do have some of my mojo back--my snarky department head, after dealing with some pedagogical differences during a work-meeting (yes. the pompous asses in my department really did use the words 'pedagogical differences'--that wasn't me making fun of them.) saw me going to the bathroom and said sardonically, "No, Amy--don't go. We're gonna have a group hug before this is over."
To which I replied, "My toddler has eaten all the pit stop in the house and I haven't worn deodorant in a week. You really don't want to get that close to me."
*smirk* Yup--there've been some set backs, but the mojo is still there.
I was not in the room, but by her account, he said, "No-its not gross. It's boogers!" And then he pulled one out and showed it to her.
I'm going to hell for procreating, I just know it!
But otherwise, I have another FO--I'm not even going to try to show them to you, because Big T's been wearing them all day, and honestly, I'm afraid the camera would break from the odor. Suffice it to say that I finally finished Big T's camoflage socks--go me! Today, I started immediately on the hat/sockies set for my co-worker--it's in this sockyarn that's SOOOOO very beautiful...soft rose, soft blue, soft green...it's like water colors. LUUUUUUURRRRVVVEEE that Cherry Tree Hill sport-weight.
And other than that? I was going to talk about Fed Ex...but all I can seem to come up with is "The fucking Fed-Ex fuckers fucking fucked me a-fucking-gain."
*sigh* Obviously I just don't have enough distance from the crimes of the incompetent fuckers at Fed Ex to even blog about it. I'll get there. I'll whip up a blazing post that cooks them at their desks as they sit, without even knowing why or what or how, but in the meantime, suffice it to say that from now on, I'm going UPS.
But, on the work front, I do have some of my mojo back--my snarky department head, after dealing with some pedagogical differences during a work-meeting (yes. the pompous asses in my department really did use the words 'pedagogical differences'--that wasn't me making fun of them.) saw me going to the bathroom and said sardonically, "No, Amy--don't go. We're gonna have a group hug before this is over."
To which I replied, "My toddler has eaten all the pit stop in the house and I haven't worn deodorant in a week. You really don't want to get that close to me."
*smirk* Yup--there've been some set backs, but the mojo is still there.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Whew...Now that I don't have to worry about THAT for a while...
Seriously--
Chicken took care of putting photos in the blog--of course, not that I prefer to be seen on the www with cat-butt in my face on a daily basis, but, well, now that you've seen how the family is growing (and isn't the family resemblance between Mate and T remarkable?) I can ramble on about nothing and not fret about the fact that blogger hasn't downloaded pictures for ME for weeks, and yet Chicken can just dump, like, five all in one day.
And really, besides getting some illicit reading time in (Kresley Cole's A Hunger LIke No Other...mmmmmmm. Tasty.) I haven't done much. His royal prickweenie came in today and after noting that in spite of the two week backlog of lesson plans tacked to my wall, I didn't have TODAY'S particular lesson plan available (I was absent Friday--I do them after school, sue me!!!!) he smiled, flickered out his forked tongue, and slithered away. Uhm, can we all say it in tandem? DU-UDE! I hope he comes by tomorrow. I'm watching a movie.
Anyway, Roxie (bless her!) reminded me to count my blessings, and I did want to say that although I'm not very vocal about it, I do count my blessings. In fact, sometimes I AGONIZE over my blessings. You know--I have so many blessings and just enough dubious gifts that I'm not sure where the controlling force in the universe wants me to invest my very limited time, sort of agonize? But I never forget that I'm lucky in that I have these sorts of choices. Ever. (Thanks, Roxie--it's probably very positive to actually hear that voiced, and Donna Lee, one very sweet birthday spring chicken, has lamented that there might not be enough niceness in the world. I wanted to do my part.)
And other than that? Hm. I finished my travelling socks. For those unaware, the traveling socks have been with me for about 3 months--I ONLY work on them at stoplights, lunch and staff meetings. You'd think that, with my short attention span and generous stash, I'd be happy to send the generous portion of leftovers (Schaeffer's Anne) on to someone else, like I do, but I must have some sort of deep and abiding torch for these colors--they're gold and wheat and purple--you know, fruited planes and purple mountains majesty sort of colors? Anyway, unthinkably after three months, they're still turning me on. I may make Ladybug some socks--or even a friend some fingerless mitts. But first...
But first I need to stick my tongue out at the Knitting Goddess' flaky younger sister, the Baby-knitting Goddess, who did the following to me: After shamelessly nagging my co-worker, Cael (the nice young man who took the picture that managed to make me un-frightening) to by all the gods at once, TELL ME what the gender of his impending baby might be, and TELL ME when the baby was due, told me both: It's a girl, dure in February. Which means, to me, that I can start the sockies and hat right after the Christmas dementia and strikke-along has faded from memory. Of course, that was before my morning e-mail when he TOLD ME that the shower is in frikking NOvember, right after Thanksgiving. Dumb ass men--do they think we knit in our sleep?
By the way--if I had a wee bit more time and computer savvy, I'd totally glom Bells' "Stash without guilt" button, because these are deep and lovely principles that I totally would love to abide by. As it is, I just have to let that main idea float across my addled brain pan every now and then so I can gaze covetously and lovingly at my yarn boxes and hiss "mine, my precious...it's all mine..."
Someday, I will take pictures again...probably of Ladybug running gleefully down the hall with a roll of deodorant in one hand and a hand knitted sock in another...
Ciou!
Chicken took care of putting photos in the blog--of course, not that I prefer to be seen on the www with cat-butt in my face on a daily basis, but, well, now that you've seen how the family is growing (and isn't the family resemblance between Mate and T remarkable?) I can ramble on about nothing and not fret about the fact that blogger hasn't downloaded pictures for ME for weeks, and yet Chicken can just dump, like, five all in one day.
And really, besides getting some illicit reading time in (Kresley Cole's A Hunger LIke No Other...mmmmmmm. Tasty.) I haven't done much. His royal prickweenie came in today and after noting that in spite of the two week backlog of lesson plans tacked to my wall, I didn't have TODAY'S particular lesson plan available (I was absent Friday--I do them after school, sue me!!!!) he smiled, flickered out his forked tongue, and slithered away. Uhm, can we all say it in tandem? DU-UDE! I hope he comes by tomorrow. I'm watching a movie.
Anyway, Roxie (bless her!) reminded me to count my blessings, and I did want to say that although I'm not very vocal about it, I do count my blessings. In fact, sometimes I AGONIZE over my blessings. You know--I have so many blessings and just enough dubious gifts that I'm not sure where the controlling force in the universe wants me to invest my very limited time, sort of agonize? But I never forget that I'm lucky in that I have these sorts of choices. Ever. (Thanks, Roxie--it's probably very positive to actually hear that voiced, and Donna Lee, one very sweet birthday spring chicken, has lamented that there might not be enough niceness in the world. I wanted to do my part.)
And other than that? Hm. I finished my travelling socks. For those unaware, the traveling socks have been with me for about 3 months--I ONLY work on them at stoplights, lunch and staff meetings. You'd think that, with my short attention span and generous stash, I'd be happy to send the generous portion of leftovers (Schaeffer's Anne) on to someone else, like I do, but I must have some sort of deep and abiding torch for these colors--they're gold and wheat and purple--you know, fruited planes and purple mountains majesty sort of colors? Anyway, unthinkably after three months, they're still turning me on. I may make Ladybug some socks--or even a friend some fingerless mitts. But first...
But first I need to stick my tongue out at the Knitting Goddess' flaky younger sister, the Baby-knitting Goddess, who did the following to me: After shamelessly nagging my co-worker, Cael (the nice young man who took the picture that managed to make me un-frightening) to by all the gods at once, TELL ME what the gender of his impending baby might be, and TELL ME when the baby was due, told me both: It's a girl, dure in February. Which means, to me, that I can start the sockies and hat right after the Christmas dementia and strikke-along has faded from memory. Of course, that was before my morning e-mail when he TOLD ME that the shower is in frikking NOvember, right after Thanksgiving. Dumb ass men--do they think we knit in our sleep?
By the way--if I had a wee bit more time and computer savvy, I'd totally glom Bells' "Stash without guilt" button, because these are deep and lovely principles that I totally would love to abide by. As it is, I just have to let that main idea float across my addled brain pan every now and then so I can gaze covetously and lovingly at my yarn boxes and hiss "mine, my precious...it's all mine..."
Someday, I will take pictures again...probably of Ladybug running gleefully down the hall with a roll of deodorant in one hand and a hand knitted sock in another...
Ciou!
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Yikes!
So you may have noticed that Chicken hijacked the blog this morning...but since she covered the important things (sleepy children, sleepy mum, wacko cats, most triumphant soccer victory) and she managed pictures--something I haven't given you for WEEKS, I'm going to let her run with it!!! I'll be driving my own blog tomorrow--in the meantime, enjoy:0)
its 8 am and im thirteen so i can't type right
today iam here to show you the whole family at 6am and i am not going to use capitalsand good grammar because the CHICKEN is here today. i have one of mum, one of dud, and acouple of the siblings. lets wait for the pictures to down load......................ah there here look observe watch
\
GEEEEToooffffff my hand!!!!!! gordys on the table so now i write with one hand.i won a soccer game yesterday 3to1 that pretty good because we played them three time. huh gooday.........
man i really can't write to day.hope yor able to read this zzz.. xzztr.zrz..
\GEEEEToooffffff my hand!!!!!! gordys on the table so now i write with one hand.i won a soccer game yesterday 3to1 that pretty good because we played them three time. huh gooday.........
man i really can't write to day.hope yor able to read this zzz.. xzztr.zrz..
Friday, November 2, 2007
Mean Assed Scorpio Moon...
I have to thank Coach Susan for that appelation, by the way--thinking in those terms has actually really helped me through the last couple of weeks...
The kids making me feel useless? There is a mean-assed scorpio moon moving through Libra--it will pass.
Fucking prickweenie is screwing with me and the school district is peppering me with inane bullshit? Fucking mean assed scorpio moon...it passes, they;ll forget my name.
I realize that I"m spending more time digging through clean laundry than with my little people? That mean-assed scorpio moon again...I will have time to fold again when it passes.
My eyes are too burnt-pit tired to edit Bitter Moon at night? Too many meetings after school to write that scene from B-Moon II that (no shit!) I've been waiting a year and a half to write? That mean-assed scorpio moon passes, and I will get a chance to nap.
The kids get a hold of my glasses and the *&^%*&^&*&^%$$#%kitten shreds my hose on my way to my friends mother's funeral? Yeah. It figures. Fucking moon again...
And as much of a cop-out as it may seem to blame everything on the mean-assed scorpio moon, the fact is that it's really just a poetic way to voice what I have always believed: If you can buckle down and endure for a while, eventually, you will be able to thrive.
I don't talk about my amazon sales anymore--it took a while to learn, but finally no one knows better than I do how truly meaningless those dumb assed numbers really are--although that doesn't stop me from checking them at least four times a day. (narcissist much, Amy Lane? No thanks, I just was one...) I was just in a mean-assed scorpio slump there--the two sequels slid down to the 500,000--they're NEVER that low. And I just cut my check-the-numbers addiction to twice a day, and...
And they just jumped up. And as superstitious as I am, and as much as I dread seeing my friend through her mom's funeral (there's a lot of us there--really I'll just be a face of support, but it means a lot to me that I can be there for her...) I'm taking this as a sign. Maybe it's desperate--I just said the numbers were meaningless--but I've been looking for a sign, and after I got the call about her mom, well, I've been looking for a sign for her as well. My friend has had some seriously hard times in the last few months--but she also married an awesome guy who makes fuckhead her ex look like...well, fuckhead the ex and nothing more important than that. My friend is neither superstitious nor optimistic--she doesn't look for signs in the universe and she doesn't think anyone up there is looking out for her. But I am superstitious. I do have faith. And I figure, that if my mean-assked scorpio moon can lighten up for something trivial and stupid, like book sales or freaky-assed felines with a crap sense of timing, or...or, well a morning to hold my children like I haven't been able to in a while, well...maybe whatever cosmic force has been spiking her Dr. Pepper of life with Draino will also lighten the fuck up and let her enjoy her new life and her new husband and her family.
She's strong. She can endure. And I"m superstitious enough to hope for both of us. So maybe, for both of us, this mean assed-scorpio moon will eventually pass.
The kids making me feel useless? There is a mean-assed scorpio moon moving through Libra--it will pass.
Fucking prickweenie is screwing with me and the school district is peppering me with inane bullshit? Fucking mean assed scorpio moon...it passes, they;ll forget my name.
I realize that I"m spending more time digging through clean laundry than with my little people? That mean-assed scorpio moon again...I will have time to fold again when it passes.
My eyes are too burnt-pit tired to edit Bitter Moon at night? Too many meetings after school to write that scene from B-Moon II that (no shit!) I've been waiting a year and a half to write? That mean-assed scorpio moon passes, and I will get a chance to nap.
The kids get a hold of my glasses and the *&^%*&^&*&^%$$#%kitten shreds my hose on my way to my friends mother's funeral? Yeah. It figures. Fucking moon again...
And as much of a cop-out as it may seem to blame everything on the mean-assed scorpio moon, the fact is that it's really just a poetic way to voice what I have always believed: If you can buckle down and endure for a while, eventually, you will be able to thrive.
I don't talk about my amazon sales anymore--it took a while to learn, but finally no one knows better than I do how truly meaningless those dumb assed numbers really are--although that doesn't stop me from checking them at least four times a day. (narcissist much, Amy Lane? No thanks, I just was one...) I was just in a mean-assed scorpio slump there--the two sequels slid down to the 500,000--they're NEVER that low. And I just cut my check-the-numbers addiction to twice a day, and...
And they just jumped up. And as superstitious as I am, and as much as I dread seeing my friend through her mom's funeral (there's a lot of us there--really I'll just be a face of support, but it means a lot to me that I can be there for her...) I'm taking this as a sign. Maybe it's desperate--I just said the numbers were meaningless--but I've been looking for a sign, and after I got the call about her mom, well, I've been looking for a sign for her as well. My friend has had some seriously hard times in the last few months--but she also married an awesome guy who makes fuckhead her ex look like...well, fuckhead the ex and nothing more important than that. My friend is neither superstitious nor optimistic--she doesn't look for signs in the universe and she doesn't think anyone up there is looking out for her. But I am superstitious. I do have faith. And I figure, that if my mean-assked scorpio moon can lighten up for something trivial and stupid, like book sales or freaky-assed felines with a crap sense of timing, or...or, well a morning to hold my children like I haven't been able to in a while, well...maybe whatever cosmic force has been spiking her Dr. Pepper of life with Draino will also lighten the fuck up and let her enjoy her new life and her new husband and her family.
She's strong. She can endure. And I"m superstitious enough to hope for both of us. So maybe, for both of us, this mean assed-scorpio moon will eventually pass.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Excuse me...
I was going to blog but the Cave Troll just answered the door to trick-r-treaters wearing nothing but a flesh-colored weiner. His.
Happy Halloween!
Happy Halloween!
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Because I just had to share...
So we've had to hide the deodorant because Ladybug has been eating it, and, silly me, I forgot to put the Secret in the top cupboard the other night. The Cave Troll had been up and around after he'd been put to bed, and I finally just laid him down, threatened spankings and got really stern, like I do. He had his arms up by his head, and when I bent down to kiss him, I thought 'uh-oh...I know that smell...'
"Cave Troll--what have you been eating?"
(Imagine blank look here.)
"What did you eat?" (I'm getting more concerned--the smell is REALLY STRONG...)
"What, mama?"
"What did you eat?" (About then, I notice some white stuff on his shirt...)
"What did I eat?"
"Yeah, honey, what did you eat?" (Oh...this might be the deodorant, no wonder...)
"Boogers, mama! I ate boogers!"
Oh. Well alrighty then. My booger-eating son tried to put deodorant on after his shower. It all makes sense to me now.
"Cave Troll--what have you been eating?"
(Imagine blank look here.)
"What did you eat?" (I'm getting more concerned--the smell is REALLY STRONG...)
"What, mama?"
"What did you eat?" (About then, I notice some white stuff on his shirt...)
"What did I eat?"
"Yeah, honey, what did you eat?" (Oh...this might be the deodorant, no wonder...)
"Boogers, mama! I ate boogers!"
Oh. Well alrighty then. My booger-eating son tried to put deodorant on after his shower. It all makes sense to me now.
Monday, October 29, 2007
1027 & Name
My weekend was long and exhausting--Chicken had a soccer tourney and the short people were sick and, all in all, the best part of it was a couch nap with the Cave Troll and Ladybug on my lap. Ladybug was still awake--she kept leaning into me so I'd kiss her neck, and then she'd relax on me for a few moments while I snoozed. We never made it to the pumpkin farm, but we did get pumpkins at the grocery store, and I think the Cave troll was just as pleased that way.
Anyway, I was right about that slough of FO's... I've got two pair of socks near the end, and a scarf cruising along at warp speed. (Isn't it amazing how everything NOT on fingering weight yarn feels like warp speed?) I'm not thinking about work (too much) right now--I"m trying to do my job, do it well, and if the prickweenies don't like it, well, they can fire me if they can manage it. Mate keeps saying that if I get fired, we can just freakin' deal. I'm going to relax about it--I mean, we've gotten a long ways on faith, luck, and some hard work. I still believe in all of that--I just need to remember how much.
Oh yes--and Mate found my keys. The world is a better place already.
And now to the title.
1027--is how many copies of VULNERABLE I've sold, as of the end of September. My total number of all book copies is 1,989, and ayup--I put all that in my cover letter to the publishers for "Bitter Moon." Let them laugh at the self-published all they want--I'm very aware that few writers sell that many copies of their books, no matter where they publish. We're getting the door frame enlarged to fit my ginormous ego, even as I write. (Just Kidding...the door frame has been falling apart for years--I'm waiting for the ego to destroy it, and THEN Mate will get around to fixing it!!!)
And NAME. Long before I started VULNERABLE, I had a goal to write Silhouette Romances (for the 'Desire' imprint, which I think might be defunct now...) Anyhoo, I wrote four or five books in this vein, the best of which was called NAME. It's not VULNERABLE, (although, shall we say the editing is more than reminiscent of my first published work?) but it's not complete crap either, and by the end of the week, it should be up on the web-site for free. It features a psychic heiress and her step-father's nephew, and other than that, I'll let you see for yourselves. Do let me know if you like it--I went back and re-read parts of it, and I see some stiffness there that needed to be worked out, but I also see some parts that are very Amy Lane, and I hope you all enjoy it. Don't forget to give Mate a big hearty thanks when it goes up, too, since that web-site is all Mate! (Lost and found keys, ego-crushed door-frames, updated websites--I mean, is there anything Mate CAN'T do?)
And you know what? Wednesday is Halloween--I'm DEFINITELY taking pictures of Dinosaur Boy and his sister, Tinker-snot. You'll love them, trust me!
Anyway, I was right about that slough of FO's... I've got two pair of socks near the end, and a scarf cruising along at warp speed. (Isn't it amazing how everything NOT on fingering weight yarn feels like warp speed?) I'm not thinking about work (too much) right now--I"m trying to do my job, do it well, and if the prickweenies don't like it, well, they can fire me if they can manage it. Mate keeps saying that if I get fired, we can just freakin' deal. I'm going to relax about it--I mean, we've gotten a long ways on faith, luck, and some hard work. I still believe in all of that--I just need to remember how much.
Oh yes--and Mate found my keys. The world is a better place already.
And now to the title.
1027--is how many copies of VULNERABLE I've sold, as of the end of September. My total number of all book copies is 1,989, and ayup--I put all that in my cover letter to the publishers for "Bitter Moon." Let them laugh at the self-published all they want--I'm very aware that few writers sell that many copies of their books, no matter where they publish. We're getting the door frame enlarged to fit my ginormous ego, even as I write. (Just Kidding...the door frame has been falling apart for years--I'm waiting for the ego to destroy it, and THEN Mate will get around to fixing it!!!)
And NAME. Long before I started VULNERABLE, I had a goal to write Silhouette Romances (for the 'Desire' imprint, which I think might be defunct now...) Anyhoo, I wrote four or five books in this vein, the best of which was called NAME. It's not VULNERABLE, (although, shall we say the editing is more than reminiscent of my first published work?) but it's not complete crap either, and by the end of the week, it should be up on the web-site for free. It features a psychic heiress and her step-father's nephew, and other than that, I'll let you see for yourselves. Do let me know if you like it--I went back and re-read parts of it, and I see some stiffness there that needed to be worked out, but I also see some parts that are very Amy Lane, and I hope you all enjoy it. Don't forget to give Mate a big hearty thanks when it goes up, too, since that web-site is all Mate! (Lost and found keys, ego-crushed door-frames, updated websites--I mean, is there anything Mate CAN'T do?)
And you know what? Wednesday is Halloween--I'm DEFINITELY taking pictures of Dinosaur Boy and his sister, Tinker-snot. You'll love them, trust me!
Friday, October 26, 2007
Is it Friday already?
Damn... sure is!
First of all, I got my manuscript back from it's odyssey--and it came with perks!!! Thanks five billion times twelve to Roxie and Needletart...they not only did a fantastic job editing, but they also send me slinkies and chocolate and sachets and soap (Bonnie!) and yarn and nifty cards (Roxie!) and I may just have to heap it all in front of the computer and take a picture--if my kids haven't eaten the chocolate, stolen the slinkies and hid the sachets from the cats by the time I get home. (The yarn is MINE, you hear me...MINE MINE MINE! BUWWAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...)
Anyway, it was a nice way to perk up a crap week, and now I"m torn between writing this part I've been DYING to write in BMoon2, or putting it off to savor and getting down to edit BMoon1 as well as cooking up my synopsis so I can put BMoon1 in the mail for it's mandatory rejection. (The rejection is just so I can justify the self-publishing biz, really...it's sort of a "Yeah, see, no one else has the sense to publish this, so I must!!!!" sort of deal.) I was excited to hear that Roxie got her galleys back...either the 2nd Sanna book or her cowboy romance--I don't care, Roxie's books are such a TREAT...she has such a visual sense of description (just read her blog!) I learn so much from her--it's almost criminal, except she doesn't like nasty vampires, so I feel okay about learning from a master:-)
As for the childrens...hmm... Coach Susan's comments about a nasty-assed retro-moon in Scorpio (or something like that...my in depth astrology is lacking somewhat...) is pretty much on for all of my offspring as well. The Big T is depressed--he spent all week practicing a monologue in drama, actually DRESSED in his Ren-gear to do Romeo at the balcony, and then...forgot 1/2 his speech. I want to e-mail his teacher and just pour out my frustration for him--he was just sitting on his bed this morning, looking mournfully at the tattered paper w/the speech on it, talking to himself about the parts he missed. It was so sad, and I was, once again, reminded that high school sucks so egregiously that it should, sometimes be outlawed.
The Cave Troll is sick--in fact, he is sick at home with Dad and Ladybug. Again, another sniffer of a goodbye this morning...his voice was scratchy and stuffy and his nose was a toxic waste dump ready to bubble slowly, and he kept saying, "No'b mbomb...wann' go mid 'ooooo!" ('No, mom, want to go with you' for those of you who don't speak Preschooler-with-a-cold.) Anyway, I hope he feels better...we were going to take him to the pumpkin patch even if it means leaving Chicken behind at her soccer game with dad tomorrow, but if he's still feeling like crap, I'll just get a couple of pumpkins at the grocery store and call it good.
Chicken is out of sorts--mostly because, of all the family members she's got it good this week, and she knows it, and she's not used to knowing how to act when she doesn't win first prize for school-suckage, so I don't know what sort of disaster is going to befall her to keep her in the lead.
Mate is pissed because the drain in our shower is backing up and...and I'm not going to talk about it. It involves drano, slime, and taking a shower that leaves your feet feeling like they just got a chemical peel and that's already TMI and, just, ick. I hope he fixes it today. I will give all sorts of favors, both food and otherwise, if only the shower is working today when I get home.
And that about covers it. Except for Ladybug.
Ladybug has had a minor change in status. We used to think she was 85% cute and 15% evil. Her daycare provider and I have had a long, evaluative chat, and we think that really, she's 75% cute and 25% evil. The day we had that chat, Ladybug spilled chocolate milk all over the back of my car and her new pink pants. I think she agrees.
First of all, I got my manuscript back from it's odyssey--and it came with perks!!! Thanks five billion times twelve to Roxie and Needletart...they not only did a fantastic job editing, but they also send me slinkies and chocolate and sachets and soap (Bonnie!) and yarn and nifty cards (Roxie!) and I may just have to heap it all in front of the computer and take a picture--if my kids haven't eaten the chocolate, stolen the slinkies and hid the sachets from the cats by the time I get home. (The yarn is MINE, you hear me...MINE MINE MINE! BUWWAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...)
Anyway, it was a nice way to perk up a crap week, and now I"m torn between writing this part I've been DYING to write in BMoon2, or putting it off to savor and getting down to edit BMoon1 as well as cooking up my synopsis so I can put BMoon1 in the mail for it's mandatory rejection. (The rejection is just so I can justify the self-publishing biz, really...it's sort of a "Yeah, see, no one else has the sense to publish this, so I must!!!!" sort of deal.) I was excited to hear that Roxie got her galleys back...either the 2nd Sanna book or her cowboy romance--I don't care, Roxie's books are such a TREAT...she has such a visual sense of description (just read her blog!) I learn so much from her--it's almost criminal, except she doesn't like nasty vampires, so I feel okay about learning from a master:-)
As for the childrens...hmm... Coach Susan's comments about a nasty-assed retro-moon in Scorpio (or something like that...my in depth astrology is lacking somewhat...) is pretty much on for all of my offspring as well. The Big T is depressed--he spent all week practicing a monologue in drama, actually DRESSED in his Ren-gear to do Romeo at the balcony, and then...forgot 1/2 his speech. I want to e-mail his teacher and just pour out my frustration for him--he was just sitting on his bed this morning, looking mournfully at the tattered paper w/the speech on it, talking to himself about the parts he missed. It was so sad, and I was, once again, reminded that high school sucks so egregiously that it should, sometimes be outlawed.
The Cave Troll is sick--in fact, he is sick at home with Dad and Ladybug. Again, another sniffer of a goodbye this morning...his voice was scratchy and stuffy and his nose was a toxic waste dump ready to bubble slowly, and he kept saying, "No'b mbomb...wann' go mid 'ooooo!" ('No, mom, want to go with you' for those of you who don't speak Preschooler-with-a-cold.) Anyway, I hope he feels better...we were going to take him to the pumpkin patch even if it means leaving Chicken behind at her soccer game with dad tomorrow, but if he's still feeling like crap, I'll just get a couple of pumpkins at the grocery store and call it good.
Chicken is out of sorts--mostly because, of all the family members she's got it good this week, and she knows it, and she's not used to knowing how to act when she doesn't win first prize for school-suckage, so I don't know what sort of disaster is going to befall her to keep her in the lead.
Mate is pissed because the drain in our shower is backing up and...and I'm not going to talk about it. It involves drano, slime, and taking a shower that leaves your feet feeling like they just got a chemical peel and that's already TMI and, just, ick. I hope he fixes it today. I will give all sorts of favors, both food and otherwise, if only the shower is working today when I get home.
And that about covers it. Except for Ladybug.
Ladybug has had a minor change in status. We used to think she was 85% cute and 15% evil. Her daycare provider and I have had a long, evaluative chat, and we think that really, she's 75% cute and 25% evil. The day we had that chat, Ladybug spilled chocolate milk all over the back of my car and her new pink pants. I think she agrees.
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