Hooo Doggy, has this been a crazy week. I won't get into everything, because crazy for me often equals boring for everyone else. As Inigo Montoya would say, let me sum up. Two boys are still coughing, but not enough to keep them home from school. The baby is on antibiotics for a double ear infection and just-getting-started sinus infection. After four days of eating pretty much nothing -- yesterday, he ate. I am one relieved mama.
Mama duties have pretty much taken over this month. Between birthday parties, sicknesses, and basketball playoffs (and school and homework and CCD which isn't called CCD anymore but I can't seem to think of it any other way, and, and, and), there has been nary a moment to write. I have, therefore, been putting in some late nights. And sleeping through alarm clocks. It's been stressful.
In an effort to alleviate the stress, I have taken it upon myself to educate my children in the finer things in life. Because, while they have great stuff like iPods and YouTube, they have really missed out on a lot of other great stuff. Better stuff, if I may be so bold.
In place of fantastically written comedies like WKRP in Cincinnati, they have crap they can't even watch because it's completely inappropriate, like Jersey Shore. (I refuse to link to that shite.) When I was a kid, I used to get to stay up late on Friday nights to watch my favorite shows. For them, there's no point. What are they going to watch, CSI [insert your favorite crime-ridden city here]? They're eleven.
They don't even recognize a Muppet unless it's Elmo. Back in my day (because apparently I'm both ancient and clichéd), we had cool Muppets. Really, who's cooler than Dr. Teeth? (Okay, I'll give you Floyd. That cat was cool. And Janice. Okay, all of The Electric Mayhem. Happy?) Clearly, they're missing out.
Yesterday was education day. And by "education" day, I mean, "they wouldn't stop interrupting me long enough for me to work so I might as well" day. We watched The Muppet Show in small, segmented bursts on YouTube. Lest you do the unforgivable and forget the awesome, I give you: Coconut.
Were you a child of the seventies or eighties? What shows/music do you miss? Let me know. I can't have my kids growing up on Snooki. I just...can't.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Who's still sick?
We are! Okay, not we per se, but the boys are. It's getting ridiculous around here. Two weeks ago, this house was clean enough to throw a party. Now it looks like a candidate for How Clean Is Your House? Or not. (Seriously, have you ever seen that show? I promise, I do not have mouse droppings in my stove burners. Ew.)
Anyway...I have been filling every moment I can with writing/editing/rewriting the Damn Novel (as evidenced by the general inability to walk through my living room without tripping on a toy) and my brain is mush. Therefore, you get pictures! (You're welcome, Magoo.)
These are the placeholder pictures I've used for four of the main characters in the Damn Novel. Yes, I said, "...four of the... ." It's a big cast. Also, I won't be telling you the character's names, because that kinda gives away some stuff I'm not ready to give away yet.
And, yes, they're all dark and gorgeous for a reason. Actually, it took me a while to find people who looked enough like the people in my head to content me. It probably would have been quicker, but I needed unknowns. Or, at least, people unknown to me. If I stuck Catherine Zeta-Jones in there, I'd be channeling Catherine Zeta-Jones while I wrote, and that wouldn't do. So I got these good folks. (The names I listed are their actual names, in case you want to IMDB them and gawk or something.)
Also important was the expression in the picture. I wanted it to be an expression that particular character would likely make. There were many actors who probably would've fit the bill if I could have found the right picture. It was a long damn process. Anyway...
Here goes:
(There used to be an image of my main character as represented by Claudia Black. You may now find it here.)
(This was a photo of her love interest as represented by Eric Fellows. That picture is here.)
(The next one was the main character's aunt, as represented by the lovely Kim Director. Photo here.)
(The last one was the Major Complication, as represented by Erryn Arkin. Totally worth clicking here. I used the first picture.)
Anyway...I have been filling every moment I can with writing/editing/rewriting the Damn Novel (as evidenced by the general inability to walk through my living room without tripping on a toy) and my brain is mush. Therefore, you get pictures! (You're welcome, Magoo.)
These are the placeholder pictures I've used for four of the main characters in the Damn Novel. Yes, I said, "...four of the... ." It's a big cast. Also, I won't be telling you the character's names, because that kinda gives away some stuff I'm not ready to give away yet.
And, yes, they're all dark and gorgeous for a reason. Actually, it took me a while to find people who looked enough like the people in my head to content me. It probably would have been quicker, but I needed unknowns. Or, at least, people unknown to me. If I stuck Catherine Zeta-Jones in there, I'd be channeling Catherine Zeta-Jones while I wrote, and that wouldn't do. So I got these good folks. (The names I listed are their actual names, in case you want to IMDB them and gawk or something.)
Also important was the expression in the picture. I wanted it to be an expression that particular character would likely make. There were many actors who probably would've fit the bill if I could have found the right picture. It was a long damn process. Anyway...
Here goes:
(There used to be an image of my main character as represented by Claudia Black. You may now find it here.)
(The next one was the main character's aunt, as represented by the lovely Kim Director. Photo here.)
(The last one was the Major Complication, as represented by Erryn Arkin. Totally worth clicking here. I used the first picture.)
Right. So there ya go -- eye candy. That's about as deep as I get these days. Now, where's my Lysol...?
Saturday, February 19, 2011
We Wants It
Kiersten White, YA author extraordinaire, is having a little blogular contest wherein one can win a personalized copy of her novel, Paranormalcy (among other things). One of the ways to enter to win is to post the cover art of the sequel, Supernaturally, on your blog, twitter, facebook, etc.
We wants it. Oh yes, Precious, we do.
So here it is, the cover of Supernaturally. Ain't it purty? Purty enough to be my entry, anyway. Have a great weekend, everyone.
We wants it. Oh yes, Precious, we do.
So here it is, the cover of Supernaturally. Ain't it purty? Purty enough to be my entry, anyway. Have a great weekend, everyone.
Friday, February 18, 2011
The Plague
As some of you know, yesterday was the Blogfest! If you didn't get a chance to check out the writerly goodness, you can go here to do so. Some of the entries came in late (it is a curse that writers generally need day jobs), and I expect a couple more today, so click around if you don't want to miss any (and you don't). A huge THANK YOU to everyone who joined me. It was so much fun!
As to regular life, I regret to say that the plague has hit my house once again. This is somewhere around the fourth time it's come through, though it's hard to say really. With six people in the house, germs seem to take their sweet-ass time traveling and one sickness ends up blending into another. Suffice it to say, there have been more days this winter where people have been sick than when everyone's been well. Quite often, I've been among the sick.
What does this mean for me? Well it means I'm not getting any work done, that's for damn sure. Right now, I've got three boys who are letting coughs and tissues fly with reckless abandon. They're also watching Despicable Me on endless loop (which, btw, is hilarious, in case you haven't seen it).
Magnum is home today, so I'm going to try to sneak away and get some work done. Not sure if it'll take, though. In the meantime, I'll leave you with something a little happier, more bouncy, than this post (and the one yesterday, for that matter).
Happy Friday, everyone.
As to regular life, I regret to say that the plague has hit my house once again. This is somewhere around the fourth time it's come through, though it's hard to say really. With six people in the house, germs seem to take their sweet-ass time traveling and one sickness ends up blending into another. Suffice it to say, there have been more days this winter where people have been sick than when everyone's been well. Quite often, I've been among the sick.
What does this mean for me? Well it means I'm not getting any work done, that's for damn sure. Right now, I've got three boys who are letting coughs and tissues fly with reckless abandon. They're also watching Despicable Me on endless loop (which, btw, is hilarious, in case you haven't seen it).
Magnum is home today, so I'm going to try to sneak away and get some work done. Not sure if it'll take, though. In the meantime, I'll leave you with something a little happier, more bouncy, than this post (and the one yesterday, for that matter).
Happy Friday, everyone.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
This Is Totally My Idiom Blogfest!
It's time! It's time! It's my first blogfest and I'm very excited. A HUGE thanks to everyone who joined. I can't wait to read your entries! The theme for this blogfest, as set out here, was to integrate an idiom into your story/scene. You can access all the entries by clicking the links below (and if you have some last minute magic you want to sign up and throw at us, you can do that, too). Happy Reading!
My own entry is below. My idiom of choice was, "in the blink of an eye." Let me know what you think in the comments. And don't forget to stop by all the other excellent entries and show them the love.
Thirty-Three
****I'm very sorry, but I've had to remove this story. Thanks for your interest!****
So there it is. I hope you liked it, but you won't hurt my feelings if you didn't. Enjoy the rest of the fest! (I'm sure the rest of the entries aren't this depressing.)
My own entry is below. My idiom of choice was, "in the blink of an eye." Let me know what you think in the comments. And don't forget to stop by all the other excellent entries and show them the love.
Thirty-Three
****I'm very sorry, but I've had to remove this story. Thanks for your interest!****
So there it is. I hope you liked it, but you won't hurt my feelings if you didn't. Enjoy the rest of the fest! (I'm sure the rest of the entries aren't this depressing.)
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Teachable Moments
Warning: This post goes on for-freaking-ever.
My twins turned eleven a few weeks back. For various reasons, including that I find it amazingly stressful to throw a party, they (and their little brother, in with whom they are lumped due to birthday proximity) didn't have their party until this weekend.
Being typical eleven year olds, they didn't particularly care to wait until February to receive gifts for a January birthday. So what happened was, they got a birthday present on their actual birthday (a trip to GameStop), and then a small gift at their party (a CD each).
Though they are twins, my son and daughter are very different people. And being different people, they have very different tastes in music. My son's current favorite band is Alter Bridge; my daughter's favorite is Taylor Swift. Personally, I don't give a rodent's posterior unless there is swearing. Or, I didn't. Until...
My daughter's other favorite is Paramore. Taylor Swift and Paramore have something in common. Allow me to illustrate. Here are some lyrics from one of the girl's favorite Paramore songs (Misery Business):
I'm in the business of misery
Let's take it from the top
She's got a body like an hourglass
That's ticking like a clock
It's a matter of time
Before we all run out
When I thought he was mine
She caught him by the mouth
I waited eight long months
She finally set him free
I told him I couldn't lie
He was the only one for me
Two weeks and we caught on fire
She's got it out for me
But I wear the biggest smile
Whoa, I never meant to brag
But I got him where I want him now
Whoa, it was never my intention to brag
To steal it all away from you now
But God, does it feel so good
'Cause I got him where I want him now
And if you could then you know you would
'Cause God, it just feels so
It just feels so good
Right. That's just a sample (it gets worse). Here's one from Taylor Swift (Better Than Revenge):
Now go stand in the corner
And think about what you did
Ha, time for a little revenge
The story starts when it was hot and it was summer
And I had it all, I had him right there where I wanted him
She came along, got him alone, and let's hear the applause
She took him faster than you can say sabotage
I never saw it coming, wouldn't have suspected it
I underestimated just who I was dealing with
She had to know the pain was beating on me like a drum
She underestimated just who she was stealing from
She's not a saint, and she's not what you think
She's an actress, whoa
She's better known for the things that she does
On the mattress, whoa
Soon she's gonna find stealing other people's toys
On the playground won't make you many friends
She should keep in mind, she should keep in mind
There is nothing I do better than revenge, ha
Are we sensing a pattern? Aside from having to deal with the question of "the things that she does on the mattress, whoa," this raises my personal woman hackles. Seriously, what the hell? Hayley Williams of Paramore and Taylor Swift were born in 1988 and 1989, respectively. Aside from making me feel hella-old, it's got me scratching my head. Weren't we past that crap by then? I thought so, but I guess I was wrong.
However, since I can't really ban her from listening to this stuff (all of her friends do, she's going to hear it anyway), I've had to sit down and have Talks with her. Talks with titles like: You Can't Steal a Person from Another Person, They're Not Objects and They Have Minds of Their Own. And the ever popular: If He's Going to Chase After Every Pretty Girl He Sees, You're Better Off Without Him, Please Don't Take Him Back Ever. And then I have to go have the same talks with my son because, hey, equal opportunity.
By contrast, this is my son's favorite song (Alter Bridge - White Knuckles):
Are you still lost tonight?
Living but dead inside?
This is a proclamation
This is a call to rise
Are you abused, alone?
Walking with broken bones?
If you feel you've been forgotten
Let this song guide you home
We are the disillusioned
We've been left wanting more
Before every aspiration hits the floor
[Chorus:]
Hold on for your life
All we feel is so far from alive
The damned are done believing
The cursed can dream no more
So hold on for your life
Because only the strong survive
They tell you what you should be
Sell you the plastic dream
Opinions are all provided
But nothing is what it seems
I dare you to take control
Cause empty are hands and
Bruised are the souls
Of those who show no resistance
Of those who are weak below
We are the disenchanted
Who die with each passing day
No one here understands us so I say
[Chorus]
How will it feel?
To live a lie until your dying day
Where nothing is real
As we sacrifice bending until we break
It's been revealed
Hold on for your life
Dreams are not theirs to take...
Dreams are not theirs to take
[Chorus]
You see the difference? All of the same angst, some of the same self-pity, but accompanied by a challenge -- a dare to take control and change it if you don't like it.
Why can't the girls write songs like that? Why the overriding import of keeping a man or getting him back once he's "stolen?" Gah! It makes me nuts. So, because of female songwriters who set their insecurities to snappy music, I now have to hound my daughter. She probably stopped listening to me a while ago. But, hey, I'm competing with a catchy rhyme. I try to be in her ears often enough to counteract pop culture.
It's a battle I'll probably lose. But like the lottery says, you can't win if you don't play. I'll take Alter Bridge's advice and Rise.
My twins turned eleven a few weeks back. For various reasons, including that I find it amazingly stressful to throw a party, they (and their little brother, in with whom they are lumped due to birthday proximity) didn't have their party until this weekend.
Being typical eleven year olds, they didn't particularly care to wait until February to receive gifts for a January birthday. So what happened was, they got a birthday present on their actual birthday (a trip to GameStop), and then a small gift at their party (a CD each).
Though they are twins, my son and daughter are very different people. And being different people, they have very different tastes in music. My son's current favorite band is Alter Bridge; my daughter's favorite is Taylor Swift. Personally, I don't give a rodent's posterior unless there is swearing. Or, I didn't. Until...
My daughter's other favorite is Paramore. Taylor Swift and Paramore have something in common. Allow me to illustrate. Here are some lyrics from one of the girl's favorite Paramore songs (Misery Business):
I'm in the business of misery
Let's take it from the top
She's got a body like an hourglass
That's ticking like a clock
It's a matter of time
Before we all run out
When I thought he was mine
She caught him by the mouth
I waited eight long months
She finally set him free
I told him I couldn't lie
He was the only one for me
Two weeks and we caught on fire
She's got it out for me
But I wear the biggest smile
Whoa, I never meant to brag
But I got him where I want him now
Whoa, it was never my intention to brag
To steal it all away from you now
But God, does it feel so good
'Cause I got him where I want him now
And if you could then you know you would
'Cause God, it just feels so
It just feels so good
Right. That's just a sample (it gets worse). Here's one from Taylor Swift (Better Than Revenge):
Now go stand in the corner
And think about what you did
Ha, time for a little revenge
The story starts when it was hot and it was summer
And I had it all, I had him right there where I wanted him
She came along, got him alone, and let's hear the applause
She took him faster than you can say sabotage
I never saw it coming, wouldn't have suspected it
I underestimated just who I was dealing with
She had to know the pain was beating on me like a drum
She underestimated just who she was stealing from
She's not a saint, and she's not what you think
She's an actress, whoa
She's better known for the things that she does
On the mattress, whoa
Soon she's gonna find stealing other people's toys
On the playground won't make you many friends
She should keep in mind, she should keep in mind
There is nothing I do better than revenge, ha
Are we sensing a pattern? Aside from having to deal with the question of "the things that she does on the mattress, whoa," this raises my personal woman hackles. Seriously, what the hell? Hayley Williams of Paramore and Taylor Swift were born in 1988 and 1989, respectively. Aside from making me feel hella-old, it's got me scratching my head. Weren't we past that crap by then? I thought so, but I guess I was wrong.
However, since I can't really ban her from listening to this stuff (all of her friends do, she's going to hear it anyway), I've had to sit down and have Talks with her. Talks with titles like: You Can't Steal a Person from Another Person, They're Not Objects and They Have Minds of Their Own. And the ever popular: If He's Going to Chase After Every Pretty Girl He Sees, You're Better Off Without Him, Please Don't Take Him Back Ever. And then I have to go have the same talks with my son because, hey, equal opportunity.
By contrast, this is my son's favorite song (Alter Bridge - White Knuckles):
Are you still lost tonight?
Living but dead inside?
This is a proclamation
This is a call to rise
Are you abused, alone?
Walking with broken bones?
If you feel you've been forgotten
Let this song guide you home
We are the disillusioned
We've been left wanting more
Before every aspiration hits the floor
[Chorus:]
Hold on for your life
All we feel is so far from alive
The damned are done believing
The cursed can dream no more
So hold on for your life
Because only the strong survive
They tell you what you should be
Sell you the plastic dream
Opinions are all provided
But nothing is what it seems
I dare you to take control
Cause empty are hands and
Bruised are the souls
Of those who show no resistance
Of those who are weak below
We are the disenchanted
Who die with each passing day
No one here understands us so I say
[Chorus]
How will it feel?
To live a lie until your dying day
Where nothing is real
As we sacrifice bending until we break
It's been revealed
Hold on for your life
Dreams are not theirs to take...
Dreams are not theirs to take
[Chorus]
You see the difference? All of the same angst, some of the same self-pity, but accompanied by a challenge -- a dare to take control and change it if you don't like it.
Why can't the girls write songs like that? Why the overriding import of keeping a man or getting him back once he's "stolen?" Gah! It makes me nuts. So, because of female songwriters who set their insecurities to snappy music, I now have to hound my daughter. She probably stopped listening to me a while ago. But, hey, I'm competing with a catchy rhyme. I try to be in her ears often enough to counteract pop culture.
It's a battle I'll probably lose. But like the lottery says, you can't win if you don't play. I'll take Alter Bridge's advice and Rise.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Slightly disjointed.
All right, I'm back. Not exactly in top form, but here nonetheless. (A huge thank you to all who stopped by on Tuesday. It was appreciated.)
First, a reminder that there is one more week until the This Is Totally My Idiom Blogfest goes live. Still plenty of time to join in the blogfesty goodness.
If you've tried to join and the linky widget wasn't working, I apologize. Apparently, the owner of Linky Tools decided he couldn't foot the bill by himself anymore and switched to a paid subscription format. Which is fine, except he did it with extremely short notice and cancelled all the active widgets pending their subscription payment. Not quite a bait and switch, but still -- not cool, Linky Tools. Either way, I've moved the links to another widget and all should be well. But if anyone has a problem, or if I've missed anyone, please let me know right away and I'll tend to it.
Second, I'm working on the Damn Novel and finally closing in on the end. I've been doing a whole poopload of rewriting as I go, so I'm hoping to have a beta-ready draft by mid-March. I realize that a done draft is not even close to a done novel, but holy shit is it a milestone.
If any of the faithful here have the ability to do a read through for me on a tight schedule (by the end of March), and are also willing to be brutally honest with me (yes, you too, Julie), let me know in the comments or shoot me an email and I'll get in touch. Really, I'd love your input. And if that input is to suggest that I should hang it up because there is enough suffering in the world without me adding my steaming pile of verbal spew to it, I want to know that, too. So, as I said, brutal honesty only, please.
Last, have I mentioned how much I hate cleaning? I mean, I do it and stuff, because I have to, but I hate it. Especially the *all together, now* laundry.
Legend has it that in the dark of winter, when the children go sledding and change their clothes fifty times a day, the laundry monster grows tall and powerful. Road salt and muddy slush feed him. He takes the couch as his domain, growing fatter with each passing day.
Today, we tear him limb from socky limb. Pray we don't get swallowed. And if you don't hear from me on Tuesday, please, for the love of all that is holy, SEND A MAID.
First, a reminder that there is one more week until the This Is Totally My Idiom Blogfest goes live. Still plenty of time to join in the blogfesty goodness.
If you've tried to join and the linky widget wasn't working, I apologize. Apparently, the owner of Linky Tools decided he couldn't foot the bill by himself anymore and switched to a paid subscription format. Which is fine, except he did it with extremely short notice and cancelled all the active widgets pending their subscription payment. Not quite a bait and switch, but still -- not cool, Linky Tools. Either way, I've moved the links to another widget and all should be well. But if anyone has a problem, or if I've missed anyone, please let me know right away and I'll tend to it.
Second, I'm working on the Damn Novel and finally closing in on the end. I've been doing a whole poopload of rewriting as I go, so I'm hoping to have a beta-ready draft by mid-March. I realize that a done draft is not even close to a done novel, but holy shit is it a milestone.
If any of the faithful here have the ability to do a read through for me on a tight schedule (by the end of March), and are also willing to be brutally honest with me (yes, you too, Julie), let me know in the comments or shoot me an email and I'll get in touch. Really, I'd love your input. And if that input is to suggest that I should hang it up because there is enough suffering in the world without me adding my steaming pile of verbal spew to it, I want to know that, too. So, as I said, brutal honesty only, please.
Last, have I mentioned how much I hate cleaning? I mean, I do it and stuff, because I have to, but I hate it. Especially the *all together, now* laundry.
Legend has it that in the dark of winter, when the children go sledding and change their clothes fifty times a day, the laundry monster grows tall and powerful. Road salt and muddy slush feed him. He takes the couch as his domain, growing fatter with each passing day.
Today, we tear him limb from socky limb. Pray we don't get swallowed. And if you don't hear from me on Tuesday, please, for the love of all that is holy, SEND A MAID.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Goodbye
Well. I was going to do a blog post about finishing up the Damn Novel and beta readers and critique partners and all sorts of other stuff, but then yesterday turned out to be a majorly bad day.
Yesterday we had to put down our 7 year old chocolate lab, Cassia. A few weeks ago, she developed a sore on her shoulder. We thought she had scraped herself. We cleaned it out for her and went about our business. By yesterday, that sore was a baseball-sized tumor and there was another coming in on her belly. We (and the vet) determined that there was nothing more we could do for her that wouldn't be prolonging the inevitable. She didn't come back home.
Oh, and did I mention it's my youngest son's birthday today? So we have that to do, too. And a party on Saturday.
Needless to say, it's a rough week. I hope you'll excuse me if I lay low.
Bye, Cassia. You were a good girl.
Yesterday we had to put down our 7 year old chocolate lab, Cassia. A few weeks ago, she developed a sore on her shoulder. We thought she had scraped herself. We cleaned it out for her and went about our business. By yesterday, that sore was a baseball-sized tumor and there was another coming in on her belly. We (and the vet) determined that there was nothing more we could do for her that wouldn't be prolonging the inevitable. She didn't come back home.
Oh, and did I mention it's my youngest son's birthday today? So we have that to do, too. And a party on Saturday.
Needless to say, it's a rough week. I hope you'll excuse me if I lay low.
Bye, Cassia. You were a good girl.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Break Time
Remember that cough I mentioned about a month ago? The one that wouldn't go away? Yeah, still here. This week, Mother Nature added a head cold. I guess she figured I needed some balance.
So I've been trying to work through the lovely fog that has settled into my skull, but it's like the Grand Banks in here and my mind's eye is blind as a mole.
This is what it looks like in my brain right now:
It's a little slow, kind of smokey, and quite bizarre at times, but that might just be the cold medicine. I'm hoping that after some rest, some vitamin ingestion, and quite a bit more cold medicine, I'll feel more like this:
...except with writing. Wish me luck.
So I've been trying to work through the lovely fog that has settled into my skull, but it's like the Grand Banks in here and my mind's eye is blind as a mole.
This is what it looks like in my brain right now:
It's a little slow, kind of smokey, and quite bizarre at times, but that might just be the cold medicine. I'm hoping that after some rest, some vitamin ingestion, and quite a bit more cold medicine, I'll feel more like this:
...except with writing. Wish me luck.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Is it normal to be this nervous the first time?
So the other night I'm sitting at my 'puter and Magnum says, "Hey hon, look at this." I don't really want to get up, but I pry my ass out of the chair anyway and go into the other room where he's sitting in front of the other computer.
"What?" I say.
"Look," he says, pointing at the screen.
It's TurboTax. He'd been working on our taxes, which I probably should have known, but I was chewing on a sticky little plot point -- you know, trying to soften it up a bit to get to the juicy center -- so I wasn't exactly paying attention.
I bend in to have a better look. And then I have to look again. Because, see, I knew we were getting some credits this year -- energy credit for the new wood stove we bought to replace the old clunker, that type of thing -- but I had no idea what the actual effect was going to be on the tax return bottom line. It was not insignificant.
"What do you want to do with it?" Magnum says.
"Well, the kids are getting braces next year, so we should probably put it away for that."
"Yeah, you're right," he says, a little disappointed, I think, that I hadn't suggested he break out the Cabela's catalogue.
So, jokingly, I say, "Or, I could go to that writing conference I told you about." Just jokingly, you understand. Anyway, long story short (Too late!), I'm going to my first writer's conference at the end of April.
My first reaction to this was, "WooHoooooo!!!!" My second reaction was, "Holy shit, I'm going to have to talk to people. Like, professional people who know what they're doing. And I'm going to have to mingle. And, ohdearGod, network. I'm going to have to network!"
When I came to and swatted the paper bag off of my face, I shared my slight nervousness with Magnum. To which, he replied, "Totally normal."
Is it? I don't know. I think I'm a touch more nervous than a normal person would be. Am I blowing this out of proportion? Because I am extremely psyched that I get to go to a conference where the formidable Lani Diane Rich a.k.a. Lucy March will be a featured speaker. I'm really, really looking forward to that. An obscene amount of really.
But I have to wonder, is it normal to be this nervous? Or am I a complete freak? (Yes, I know those aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. Just pretend, okay?)
"What?" I say.
"Look," he says, pointing at the screen.
It's TurboTax. He'd been working on our taxes, which I probably should have known, but I was chewing on a sticky little plot point -- you know, trying to soften it up a bit to get to the juicy center -- so I wasn't exactly paying attention.
I bend in to have a better look. And then I have to look again. Because, see, I knew we were getting some credits this year -- energy credit for the new wood stove we bought to replace the old clunker, that type of thing -- but I had no idea what the actual effect was going to be on the tax return bottom line. It was not insignificant.
"What do you want to do with it?" Magnum says.
"Well, the kids are getting braces next year, so we should probably put it away for that."
"Yeah, you're right," he says, a little disappointed, I think, that I hadn't suggested he break out the Cabela's catalogue.
So, jokingly, I say, "Or, I could go to that writing conference I told you about." Just jokingly, you understand. Anyway, long story short (Too late!), I'm going to my first writer's conference at the end of April.
My first reaction to this was, "WooHoooooo!!!!" My second reaction was, "Holy shit, I'm going to have to talk to people. Like, professional people who know what they're doing. And I'm going to have to mingle. And, ohdearGod, network. I'm going to have to network!"
When I came to and swatted the paper bag off of my face, I shared my slight nervousness with Magnum. To which, he replied, "Totally normal."
Is it? I don't know. I think I'm a touch more nervous than a normal person would be. Am I blowing this out of proportion? Because I am extremely psyched that I get to go to a conference where the formidable Lani Diane Rich a.k.a. Lucy March will be a featured speaker. I'm really, really looking forward to that. An obscene amount of really.
But I have to wonder, is it normal to be this nervous? Or am I a complete freak? (Yes, I know those aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. Just pretend, okay?)
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