Shut up and write!

"Oh Mary, my Mary, what are you doing tonight?"
"I'm trying to edit, and it's sort of a fight!"
"Wanna talk about Teen Wolf?  It was a delight!"
"I know what you're doing--don't push me, all right?"
"But my character's ripping my heart out, it's all tangled like--"
"I know-- I wanna read it!  You need to finish that tonight!"
"But writing is hard and I'm not very bright!"
"You just left that part hanging!  Bitch, shut up and write!"




"Hi Mom!" says Chicken on my phone screen so bright
"Whatcha doin'?" she asks, and I answer her, right?
"Well there's Dean and there's Sam and there's pasta tonight--
And the little kids are reading and the dog had a fright!"
And she says, "I've got homework, gotta bail, all right?
Besides, you are stalling.  Now stop texting and write!"

Kaitlynn says, "TEEN WOLF!  YOU SAW IT? IT DESTROYED YOU, RIGHT?"
I whimper.  "Stilinski feels, Hoechlin lust, Scott's not very bright."
"Did you read all the fanfic?  See the .gif sets? Hash out the character's plight?"
I've got homework on my hobbies-- it's filling me with fright!
I think I"ll run away now.  "Gotta edit!" How trite.
Besides, she knows better.  "Screw that-- just go write!"


Julianne's next, a sweet, funny delight--
And she's far to adorable to yell-- too polite!
"Did you nap?  Did you exercise?  Are you eating all right?"
"Yes my love, and you?"  Not even her characters fight.
And we talk about Teen Wolf and walking in the rain
And sign off knowing we'll talk once again.
But as the chat window shuts, my text window's alight--
It's Mary.  "I want Mackey.  Now shut up and write!"

E sends me pictures of puppies and wool, 
And I want to chat, but E isn't a fool--
Lynn likes some Sherlock, but she's not going to linger
Not even if I offer Karl Urban with the joy that he'll bring her,
Ariel's asleep, Shannon's pimping yarn,
Anyone who's up doesn't give a darn
That the shiny and squirrels have taken over my mind--

They know I've got better things to do with my time!
C'mon Amy, you know you're not fooling us, right?
Get off social media, and shut up and write!


I go to snuggle with Mate-- who knows what'll take flight?
"I love you, sweetie, but I"m too tired tonight.  
Besides, you know you need to work, right?"
"But… but… I'm here, I'm your warm, willing wife!"
"Who will be happier if she goes to the kitchen and writes."
"Okay, fine.  Tomorrow night, though, right?"
"As long as your character resolves his plight!"
Okay-- he wasn't that sweet.  He really said, 
"Close the door, shut off the light, open the computer, and write!"

No readers are chatting on FB tonight,
And if they were, they'd all hit "like"
To the post where I'm promising all that I'll try
To make the words and the plot and the characters fly!
"Mary, please Mary-- let's play with words tonight!"
"I'm going to sleep.  Amy, shut up and write!"


It's just me and Pandora, and the dog curled tight
In a kitchen with only one overhead light.
My feet are both freezing, my bladder clenched hard
As my fingers dance solo over the cluttered keyboard
Two-K and Three-K, I'm blasting right by
Until suddenly I can't keep open my eyes.
As I send Mary my offering, hoping it's all right.
I did what I needed, saw my characters fight,
Had them make up, made it all be all right, 
I hope that it's fresh, not hackneyed or trite,
But mostly I'm proud cause...
 I finally shut up to write.

This One Time, in Korea...

First of all-- WOOT!  You all have really embraced Shiny!, and given that it is an admitted departure from a lot of my work (not to mention my catch phrase!) I couldn't be more excited.  I loved writing the non-angsty, sweet as pie, bless their hearts story of two guys, working shit out.  Not that I'm not working on some heavy duty, making mom cry at the computer angst right now, but sometimes, sweet is just just lovely, isn't it?

 Second of all, I have the YouTube clip of the Fireside Chat with Rhys Ford, Charlie Cochet, and I.  The lovely Ariel Tachna moderated, and, if you watch very carefully, you may be able to watch Zoomboy plot a murder in the background.  Apparently he executed one too, and we're going to watch the fly population very carefully in case there's some retaliation in that quarter.

Fireside Chat--With Ariel Tachna as Moderator

So this week was sort of an anomaly-- we call it "President's week" which means that the kids stay home, the teachers have inservice days, and the parents go, "Qua d'fuc?"  Honestly?  I felt a little bad.  I mean Mate actually had Monday off, and hence The Lego Movie, but for the rest of the week, I had work to do.

However, that didn't stop me with the big kids and it didn't stop me this go round.  I took some time off work (or, rather, stayed up really late all week) and spent one day taking the kids to the zoo and another day taking them to the book store.  Of course, the other two days they were on their own, but still, three days out of five to have an activity isn't bad.  (They barely survived.  My youngest two spawn will self-anihilate if given too much unmedicated time in each other's presence.  Trust me on this.  It is fact.)  But anyway, we went to the zoo, and much hilarity ensued.

The amphibians are unusually active today.

For starters, there was the reptile house-- which was fun.  The amphibians were really active-- which, coincidentally, is exactly what I texted to Mary Calmes:  The amphibians are really active today.  

And two seconds later, I checked my Twitter feed, (because I can only watch a giant boa constrictor breathe for so many minutes before I need a shiny squirrel)  and there was this picture here:

Yes, I am aware that turtles aren't amphibians, but you can't deny, the timing was impeccable.

Steve Lemurs

Anyway, that had me in giggle fits, and so did the following clowder of lemurs, which my kids dubbed, "Steve lemurs".  Because, well, they were black and white like Steve the cat.  And because the lot of them wandered around playing, "Can I sleep in the box?" and "Empty? Empty? Empty?" and "My stomach needs more sunlight!"  All of which, as you may have guessed, are Steve the cat's favorite games.  So, there you have it.  Steve lemurs.

This one time in Korea...

And then, there was the highlight of any visit to the zoo if Zoomboy is present, and that was the primate cages.  For some reason the orangutans weren't feeling sociable, and the poor cancer ridden tiger was pretty much into pissing on people and walking away.  But the chimpanzees were in fine form-- they just got fed.  So there was lots of talking, and sitting on rocks and reminiscing, and there they were, the old grizzled veterans of the primate cage, eating dry carrots and letting the remnants drop out of their mouths.  For some reason, I was reminded of Damon Suede's accounting of retired firefighters sitting in a bar, telling old war stories.  "This one time, in Korea…"  (Imagine smoke roughened voice and bitter sneer--acted by, but not actually possessed by Damon himself.)  So anyway, there was the big ugly, angry monkey (and again, I know not a monkey!) snarling, "This one time, in Korea…"  And I guess you can fill in the rest.

Communing with the missing
orangutans. 

And in addition to the primates, we got to see the snow leopard.  Now, the first time by the snow leopard's cage, the rather stand-offish asshole didn't show, but the second time round, oh, he was there.

He was there peeing and looking at us and sneering, and he was there pretending to pounce and then rolling his eyes at us and thinking, "Psyche, assholes, psyche!"

I, of course, was the snarky, bloodthirsty mother, but I was forced to mingle with the good mothers.  One of them was going, "Look what a beautiful kitty!  Do you think he'll play with the mouse and let it go?"

At the same time, I was offering up my own commentary to my children in the form of "Get it! Get the thing! Drink its blood, bite it's head, get it get it get it get it get it!"

Bite its head!

*aherm*  I identify way too much with that snow leopard.  I really do.

Anyway-- so there you have it, a trip to the zoo, followed by a trip to the bookstore wherein the entertainment for the next couple of days was purchased, and after yesterday (gymnastics and a trip out for lunch) they were ready for an underwear day.  Zoomboy actually dropped hot burrito filling on his bare torso-- methinks underwear days may soon be a thing of the past.  There's an object lesson in everything, am I right?

Including consumerism-- because as we walked into the gift store after the zoo, I was immediately taken with those creepy, candy colored stuffed animals with the outrageously big eyes.  That seemed to follow me.  I knew that Squish would want one (and she did) and I was more than grateful that she picked a smaller one, and a lemur.

I have never been so very afraid.

Because if I'd brought home one of these babies, the turtle-porn videos I've been getting on FaceBook would never, ever, ever stop.  *shudder*.  I'm telling you… there are unsuspected horrors in that area.  I shit you unit.

And, since I can't remember whether or not I've talked about my heinous traffic boner (I'm thinking yes, but that might have just been on Twitter) I think I shall leave you with this.  It's extremely adorable and very amusing, and for those people who mistakenly tune in for fiber content, it may keep the yarn constipation from beginning.

I know it certainly got my yarn moving in certain directions!  Enjoy!

Yarn bombing

Shiny!

It all started like this… 

See… I was doing some housecleaning.  Seriously.  OLD housecleaning.  Pre-kids housecleaning.  Uhm, sacred drawer of intimacy housecleaning.  Yeah.  That sort of housecleaning.  Anyway-- I threw "stuff" away, like you do, and looked across the street.

Now, we live across the street from a church with a little private school attached.  The faith is uberconservative, but the people there are very nice.  When Big T started school, he, of course, went with whatever special ed program available-- the bus came and got him and then brought him home.  When Chicken started school, our district had not yet started open enrollment, and our neighborhood sucks.  We didn't want to put her on a school bus to be taken to a crappy school.  You had to see her, too-- I don't have any pictures on the computer from that time, but, well… she was tiny.  She had a growth spurt in her Freshman year, but for the longest time, she was shorter than average, tinier than average, and she had the tiniest, most piquant little heart shaped face, dominated with big brown eyes. I couldn't send my baby away!  But I had a job, too.  So we sent her across the street, to the nice women who always wore dresses and never cut their hair.

Of course, there were some drawbacks.  For one, they didn't let the kids read about magic, and that's where I live.  Seriously-- no Harry Potter.  No C.S. Lewis.  Nothing but watered down bible stories and stock curriculum.  For another, most of their teachers barely had a BA degree.  Now, for the littler kids that doesn't matter particularly-- if you are good with little kids and you have a curriculum, you're doing your job.  But as Chicken grew, we were doing more of the teaching at home--value-wise, too, because these weren't our people.  We had run ins with teachers who wouldn't let her go to the bathroom until it was too late (because it was a CHURCH school, and you had to be DISCIPLINED) and run-ins with teachers who didn't believe that she was really trying in penmanship (in which she got a grade, believe it or not.)  I had to go in there and physically write something to show the teacher that A. She came by it rightly, and B. We didn't really give a shit how good her penmanship was, it didn't indicate how smart she was.  By the fourth grade, we'd had enough church school, and the district had opened up anyway, so we sent her to the local school for a year, and then to T's school for a blissful, two-year period wherein they both attended the same middle school.  

Anyway-- so I know the church school across the street.  

And there I was, looking at the kids playing in the brown field (like us, they let their lawn die during this horrible, hot, dry, winter) and throwing away, uhm, unmentionable items.  

*giggle*

Oh gees. These people freak out over Harry Potter.  What would they do if someone knocked over my trash-can full of vibrators?

*giggle*

I came back in and got on the computer (where I live and breathe) and Tweeted/FB'd that very sentiment:  "Just threw away old "unmentionables".  We live across from a church--I hope nobody knocks over my trashcan."

And, like it does on social media, that little comment got seen.  By my publisher.  Who loved it.  Adored it.  

Asked me very prettily to write it.  Even put Mary-my-Mary on CC to talk me into shoving it in front of the queue.  

I really can't ever say no to Elizabeth, ever.  This was no exception.

Shiny! was written in good fun-- and nothing but.  There is a lot of me in there, if you know where to look, but it's the happy me, the philosophical me, the me that bounces back and doesn't wallow.  (Yeah, she's here!)  I sort of love Will, a big, doofy, good-willed everyman, who tries his best and takes his time and who is, in all his generous humility, a superstar to the people who love him.  I love Kenny too, snarky, sarcastic, a little bitter, but basically whole and sound, and so very willing to open up to Will's sweetness and drink it in.  There are no tragedies int his one.  No deep  dark secrets.  No hidden wellspring of epic pain.  I'll ask my angst-whores to be patient-- Blackbird and Beneath the Stain will rip their hearts out, but Shiny! is just that.  Happy.  Shiny.  Sweet.  

I hope you all enjoy a little bit of sunshine, at the end of what has been (for some of you) a long, bleak winter.

Shiny! is available for pre-sale at Dreamspinner Press and All Romance e-books, and will be released tomorrow, when you can get it on amazon.com as well. (ETA-- is now available at Amazon!)


Description:

Will Lafferty and Kenny Scalia are both having sort of a day. Will gets fired for letting fifth graders read Harry Potter, and Kenny finds his boyfriend and his sex toys in bed with a complete stranger. When Will knocks over Kenny's trash can—and strews Kenny's personal business all over the street—it feels like the perfect craptastic climax to the sewage of suckage that has rained down on them both.

But ever-friendly, ever-kind Will asks snarky Kenny out for a beer—God knows they both need one—and two amazing things occur: Kenny discovers talking to Will might be the best form of intercourse ever, and Will discovers he's gay.

Their unlikely friendship seems like the perfect platonic match until Will reveals how very much more he’s been feeling for Kenny almost since the beginning. But Kenny’s worried. Will’s newfound sexuality is bright and glittery and shiny, but what happens when that wears off? Is Will's infatuation with Kenny strong enough to stay real?

Oh!  And I thought I should add-- 

Rhys Ford, Charlie Cochet and I will be at Google Hangouts, doing a Fireside Chat on Saturday, Feb. 22, 5 p.m. EST.  If you want to leave us questions, RIGHT HERE at DSP's blog, and watch for the link on Twitter and FB right before the chat starts.  I promise (especially after the dry run this morning!) to wear makeup, because gawd, no one wants to see me without it up close and personal, and I may even have a dog in my shirt.  

Come join us and feel free to send questions!

And enjoy Shiny!  This one is all about the sweet :-)

Lego Dreams

So the family and I went and saw The Lego Movie today-- and I have one thing to say:

EVERYTHING IS AWESOME!  

Seriously-- how can you not love The Lego Movie?  A perfect blend of earnestness and snark, how can you not love a movie that laughs at it's own meta-ness, and teaches not only the joys of non-conformity but also the importance of understanding the directions?
It's like this movie was made for me!

It also has the world's best theme song.  Ever.

See?



And the thing with me, is that I didn't appreciate legos until I was a mom.

Of course, sometimes I appreciated that they were evil fucking building blocks of Satan-- but that was usually at dark-thirty a.m. when I stepped on one in my bare feet.  (BTW-- the current curse of wishing that someone steps on a Lego, like, say, Jeff Davis, creator of Teen Wolf, is one of my favorite pop culture tropes right now.  It has the perfect blend of diabolical evil and complete childhood innocence.  I approve.  Jeff Davis, step on a Lego!)  But mostly, I appreciated Legos with Big T.

Big T could spend hours alone with his Legos.  Hours.  Very little of that time was spent building.

Most of that time was spent setting the figures up to interact.

He would put them in a saloon or a pirate ship or a space ship and then proceed to write mumbled, largely unintelligible dialog for his people, and then move them to another location.

Now that T wants to make movies, this behavior seems to be a precursor to that especially-- but I was the one who spent my time coaching him through social situation after social situation as he grew up, and I know what he was really doing.

He was practicing.

He was practicing conversing in the magical thing called language that the gods had cursed him with as a barrier instead of gifted him with as a tool.

For Big T, those Lego guys were his trainers, his proxies, his coaches through the uncertain and treacherous terrain of the spoken word, of body language, of an honest exchange of ideas.

He loved them.  He loved all the Lego aspects, but that one in particular.

Big T is working hard toward adulthood now.  Although he's twenty-one in actual age, he's just now becoming more autonomous, but his progress is still pretty clear.

In his room he has a giant vat of Legos-- ginormous-- with the building blocks leftover from an entire childhood of our indulgence with his favorite world.  Every now and then we ask him if he wants to give them to Zoomboy.

Not yet, he tells us, getting a little wobbly in the heavily furred chin.  Not yet.  He needs to cling to them a little longer.  They make his new and continuous forays into adulthood a little more safe, just by sitting in his room.

That's okay.

The entire message of the movie was that Legos get to be anything you need them to be.

Just like dreams.

Valentines Day?

I got quoted today on U.S.A. Today Blog about my favorite Valentines Day sweet, which I think is really funny.

See, the thing is, I ADORE writing love stories, but I have a very odd sense of romance.I have given up being a fan of the romantic gesture, or the big box of chocolates (unless I craved chocolate.)  I mean, for a while, I hoped for these things, but after LITERALLY bolluxing every attempt Mate made to be a suave, romantic sonuvabitch, it occurred to me that I was one of those awkward people for whom romance was a little more complex.  Yes, you could set up the toy helicopter and the thing of flowers in the middle of the living room, but odds were very good that would be the day I didn't get home until two in the morning and the helicopter would have stopped whirring around and the flowers would be droopy.  (True story.)

Yes, I could bake the cookies with a fever of 103 degrees, and deliver them to the place we both worked, almost getting fired when I got caught.  However, that would very possibly frighten my intended into bolting for the hills the very next day, while I consoled myself with Journey Songs and bulimia.  (True story.  We made up later.  Mate regrets.)

Yes, he could get the lovely flower and the unicorn earrings and put them in the produce part of the refrigerator on the one day in seven I decided to cook vegetables, so the surprise is spoiled.  (True story.)

The fact is, after twenty-six, twenty-seven years, we have come to appreciate the valentines that don't happen on purpose.  The dancing in the kitchen when a pretty song comes on the computer, the moments when we charm each other by accident, that touch on the leg or the foot that we give each other when one of us is sleeping and the other has to move about the room.  

However, in the past few electronic years, I have learned that just because my beloved and I have perfected our own real romantic gestures, that doesn't mean that my girlfriends and I don't have the need for all the foolish, sweet, gooey, sugary fun things that come with the idea of Valentines day.

I think it was Miss Julianne (from whom I shamelessly stole the demotivator below) who first pointed out that Valentines Day was really for your buddies.  The love thing is between two people-- the dishing and swooning and mooning and whispering that makes up the day itself actually seems to be a happier thing when we're doing it with our peers.  After all-- love is private.  Talking about love, not so much.

Talking about love is making the fantasy beautiful, sharing it.  It's what romance writers do best. 

Chicken is, even now, sending me silly poetry about Teen Wolf in order to cope with the stress of "VD" as we've been calling it.  In a way, she's celebrating her singleness.  She's not on a man-hunt.  She doesn't want a boyfriend.  But the crush of love and expectation of being a couple is wearing on her everlovin' nerves.  So she celebrates with me, and I laugh my ass off-- because she's really clever and entertaining and-- well, isn't that what we do?

We can't count on the perfect boy doing the perfect thing on V-Day.  We can't count that our romantic gesture will be either received or interpreted right.  But boy, we can count on support as we recount our tragicomic romantic woes with our friends.  

Some of our favorite television shows are based on this.  Some of our favorite moments from other shows capture this.  This idea that platonic love can be the thing that sustains us when romantic love falters is REALLY what this day is all about!




















So celebrate it.

Enjoy it.

Embrace it.

I've given you some of my favorite silly little pictures, some of my favorite songs that mean love.  Even a lubricant commercial, to make you smile.

Share at will.


















And if you have a beloved, and your romantic gesture is successful, be really grateful.

Never forget the days when you were single, and the kiss goodnight was as far away as the moon, and you had only the sunlight of your friends to sustain you.

What I'm wearing today...

It's sort of my uniform after getting home from any trip, but it's got the same basic style, shape, and function:

* ripped jeans

* stretched out T-shirt

*  bra that doesn't chafe

*  underwear that don't droop

*  softest, stretchiest hoodie

*  flip-flops

* scarf

*  booby hamster

I'm home-- oh baby I'm home!

Some things that happened in the last hours of my trip…

*  The sun came out.

*  I got to go walking on the beach.

*  I took lots of pictures-- many of them panoramic, because Daytona really does look like the pictures and the movies, and that's sort of cool.

*  I realized that even though there are many nice hotels on the strip, there are some hotels where the 80's went to cook meth and die.  I was REALLY happy to be in one of the nice ones.

*  I got to have dinner with Gini Koch and T.C. Blue-- T.C. writes m/m, and we've been to cons before, but Gini is het sci-fi/humor (think Terry Pratchett with girl power!) and together, we had a blast on the last night .

*  I discovered that you CAN make a sexual innuendo about anything, even shelling lobster in Joe's Crab Shack (thank you Gini and T.C.!).

*  By hilarious chance, Gini and I got seated next to each other on the plane from Daytona to Atlanta-- she is a glorious traveling companion.  She even bolted a sandwich with me during my shortened layover.

*  The plane from Atlanta to San Francisco spent two hours on the tarmac-- I slept through both of them.

* I woke up about half an hour after take off and read a book cover to cover.

*  My seat mate for that leg of the tip told me I looked like a fatter version of Debra Messing.  Since Mate has sort of a crush on her, I took that as a compliment.

*  The dog was so excited to see me when I got home that he peed all over the house.  Twice.

*  The cat camped out on my feet when I went to the bathroom this morning-- no hand humping involved.  I was a pooping human woobie.

*  The kids were thrilled that I was home-- I was hugged to death.

*  Squish wore her hat to school.  Zoomboy got Lego Harry Potter years 1-4 for his video game.  Everybody wanted some mom.

*  Mate said he missed me.  This means a lot to me-- I always feel like I don't do enough when I'm home.  It's good to know I'm missed.

It's my first day back, which means I'm doing my best imitation of a comatose garden slug.  No-- not kidding--I don't even do laundry my first day back, hence my traditional uniform.  I'm useless.  I'm a barely sentient paperweight.  For instance, now, after my traditional gazunga hour nap I may get some work done on my drug addicted rock star.

Besides watching television with my kids?

It's what I look forward to most in the world.

I'm glad to be home.

10 Reasons Knitting is the Skill Set for the Zombie Apocalypse

 Okay-- you all see the lovely woman standing on my right?  That's Deborah Cooke/Claire Delacroix, and she's lovely, funny, bright as hell, and we did a meet and greet today.  Not many people came, but I was thrilled to be in the same room with her, and we had fun.  I presented ten reasons Knitting is the Skill Set for the zombie Apocalypse during the event, and Claire said, "Somebody MUST blog it!" and so I will present it at the end of this post!

So, a quick, random run-through of some of the other events in pictures…

Poppy and Amy on the first night-- they're good friends and adorable, and I loved them!  We are in Denny's, and there WAS magic there, and we just fested on carbs… t'was grand!

Here we have Damon Suede and Amy again, having an amazing conversation about literature that I was privileged to be a part of!  One of those fun things that people come to cons for, honestly.  Twas awesome.

Over here, we have a selfie, me and Damon-- he is laughing because he has figured out the secret of selfies-- don't look up, because then people can see your extra chin AND whatever is inside your nose!

And here, we have Precious Paranormal Poppy Denison, who was my companion much of the weekend.  She promised Mary-my-Mary that she would look out for me, because we all KNOW how I can get when surrounded by shiny squirrels, and she has done an admirable job.  She is currently wearing Squish's scarf hat which I finished when I arrived.  Squish is thrilled-- I can't wait to give it to her!

Over here, we have a late night round table at the character ball… from left to right, TC Blue-- who is lovely and awesome as always, our friend Chudney, and Damon Suede, looking as exhausted as I feel, and holding court.  Also at that table was Damon's fun and awesome friend Lyla, the wonderful and ever so helpful Taylor Law, and you can see T.C. Blue once again (which is always a very good thing!)

Oh-- some other things that happened?

#CMCC TRENDED on Twitter the other night, as we panned the perfectly dreadful movie, Little Red Riding Hood.  Live tweeting during a bad movie is sort of damned hysterical.  I hope this becomes a party fad for college students everywhere, because… too much fun!

Also…

We won Flash Fiction.  I mean the whole table won Flash Fiction:  Damon Suede, Alex Hughes, Lucien Diver, Kiernan Kelly, Angie Fox and I had an amazing time making up stories that ranged from T-Rexes and turkeys to Mermaphrodites on Pizza.  Seriously we made shit up on the spot-- I think we all had at least two or three moments of totally winning the show which meant that the entire panel was raucous and exciting and awesome.  WOOT!  (ETA-- I changed "Alicia Fox" to "Angie Fox" because I am a dork fish and got it wrong-- SORRY SO MUCH Angie!)

And…

I got to have dinner with Damon and our agent, Saritza Hernandez, which was delightful, because she's GREAT, and we never get to see enough of her!

And that brings me to the meet and greet-- and the top ten reasons that knitting is go to survival skill for the zombie apocalypse…

Number 10--

Pointy sticks make excellent weapons.

Number 9--

String can be make very effective traps.

Number 8--

Knitter's stash makes effective house insulation for those pesky power outages.

Number 7--

Wool is self-extinguishing--which comes in handy when your city is on fire.

Number 6--

If you realize you're doomed to become a zombie anyway, you can knit yourself a market bag for body parts and start your new life as a living undead ghoul with some preparation.

Number 5--

It is possible to knit a hammock, and we all know zombies can't climb trees.

Number 4--

Acrylic yarn melts.  Melting your old embarrassing stash to create a polyethylene armor to protect against zombie bites is a thoughtful way to recycle.

Number 3--

You can't run away with blisters on your feet.  New socks are important.

Number 2--

Cotton washcloths are good for sopping up blood.

Number 1--

You can also knit sweaters and blankets.

And that's the end of the show for today, folks… on Monday, I'll be coming home, but not before a walk on the beach and a chance to say goodbye to the awesome folks here at the con.

Ciao!