It must be Tuesday...

So I've been to camp. And now I'm home. Three days early. Oh, my.

I shall tell this tale with headings that really encapsulate the microcosm that each day was. It all started Sunday... *insert flashback music/wavery image here*

HARD DAY'S NIGHT

We worked from noon to midnight setting up for camp. I unloaded ALL THE KAYAKS EVER from the trailers (since I am the kayaking instructor), and set up the lake. Granted, I took some liberties and went for a nice long paddle all alone on the quiet lake, but I swear, the rest of the day was basically an extended exercise in endurance labor. I built six wigwams from plumbing parts, helped set up the kitchen, helped check in all the staffers, and moved seven ancient (and heavy) camp bunk beds into a new cabin after the first one flooded in a huge rain storm, and built the camp store twice (it also blew over in the storm).  By the time I got to bed around 2 am, I was thoroughly pack-muled out.

It was hard work, but essentially uneventful (plus, remember the nice peaceful paddle).

This brings us to MONDAY. I DON'T HAVE ANY FUN-DAY.

Monday morning started out with a bang. One of the counselors woke up having been sick during the night, and didn't want to tell anyone. She kept it secret because the previous night at the counselor meeting, one of the directors announced not to eat too much candy, because candy makes you puke, and pukers get sent home. It's just her funny way of warning the kids off eating too much junk and making themselves sick. Well, this girl went to FUCKING GREAT LENGTHS to hide her illness, not realizing she'd basically contaminated the entire camp with GODFORSAKEN ROTAVIRUS. So we had Typhoid Mary walking around all day, leaving her germity germs of death EVERYWHERE. When we realized she was sick Monday afternoon and sent her home, we were worried, but not too worried. We should have been...

This brings us right up to today: TUESDAY, also known as IN MY TIME OF DYING, and I COMPLETELY OFFERED TO EXORCISE THE CAMP SUNDAY AFTER SOMEONE DIDN"T FEEL WELL, AND THEY BRUSHED IT OFF LIKE I WAS JOKING, AND THEY'RE SORRY ABOUT IT NOW.

The dominos began to fall. We had a few girls get sick by lunch time. Then a few more. By the time my kid succumbed at 7:30 this evening, there were 15 sick girls, and a few more who looked green around the gills. In the span of an hour, we went from a fully functional camp to a CDC quarantine zone. For crying out loud. So we had to shut down camp. I brought my little puker home, and I've been rewarded with not having thrown up, and by having access to the internet. At least until tomorrow night. If they decide to reopen for the final two days of camp, I'll go back, but I think the kid is done.

I taught exactly three kayaking classes. I was supposed to teach fifteen. Oh, well. Maybe next year.

So I'm home, and now I can get back to work, because editing is all but impossible at camp when you're surrounded by 75 girls who all need your attention RIGHT THE FUCK NOW. Read a sentence, change some punctuation, THEN HERE'S ANOTHER EMERGENCY HANDLE IT NOW. It's not even worth turning on the computer. So I'm secretly thrilled that my kid's sick. How awful of a human being does that make me?

In fact, the poor thing's curled up on the bathroom floor with a pillow and her kindle. :(

So hopefully the rest of the week is an improvement. I'm done.

My Annual Self-Flagellation Week, AKA Purgatory

It's been a really long time since I posted anything here. I won't blah blah you to death with how busy I've been or anything stupid like that. Really, it comes down to the fact I didn't really have anything to say. No point in talking just to hear the sound of my own voice. Or in this case, to hear the sound of my own typing.

I have been posting more on Tumblr recently, though. I find the format there fits the silly snippets and pictures of my life a little more readily than a formal blog does. So for now, 99% of my postings will either be on Tumblr or Twitter. Check that out if you are on either site. I'm in and out, but I show up both places at least a few times a day.

But, the actual point of this post, is that I won't be anywhere online for most of the next week. It's my ANNUAL TRIP TO PURGATORY. *cue ominous music*

Too bad I won't actually have an angel to help me get through it. Nope. Surviving this is all on me.

What's going on? I get to spend a week helping to run a camp. I'm the kayak instructor, and general dogsbody. I'm awake before dawn, preparing for the onslaught of 200 girls aged 5 through 18, and then the day begins. Eight hours of camp activities (which boils down to eight hours of paddling for me), then another eight hours of managing the older girls' free time, followed by another four to six hours of preparing for the next day, I get between 2 and 4 hours of sleep a night. If I'm lucky. Between the intensely physical, constant activity and the complete lack of personal space or quiet, I think I'd rather be in actual purgatory for a week. And I do this 100% as a volunteer. Have done for years.

WHY?! you might ask? I love it. It IS purgatory for me. It's pure. It's a test. It pushes me to the edge of sanity, and I get to see if I can stay on this side of the line, or if I'll be dragged across into psychosis. It's the ultimate extreme sport, playing fast and loose with my own brain. Because, really, it's not that far a walk from "normal" me to "OMG SOMETHING IS FUCKING WRONG WITH YOU" me.

Last year I came about five minutes from breaking before a friend pointed out my weird behavior and sent me on a solitary hike until I could rein in the crazy. I chose the "difficult" trail up to Cunningham Falls, climbed the falls, and perched in a nook in the forest and just sat there for a few hours. I held on. I won. Victory over insanity.

Why would I put myself through that again? Because I have to. I have to prove to myself I am not the victim. I have to prove I am strong, both physically and mentally. I CAN DO THIS.

And nothing makes me feel stronger.

So wish me luck. I'll be back soon. I have a lot of editing to do, and that alone is keeping me from flipping out. At least the camp has power, if not internet. My work shall keep me sane.

Campity Campity Camp

Sorry if everyone is completely bored with my camping adventures. But I'm going camping again this weekend for the third time in two months. This time will be different, though. It's the official camp certification training for the Girl Scouts. After this weekend, I will be an officially certified camp leader. Be afraid.

It's almost redundant for me to have to do this, but it's a requirement, so I have to go. Even though its freaking cold outside and I'd rather sleep in my own cozy bed than in a sleeping bag on a wooden deck. I'd rather have my stove, my fridge full of nummy food, and roast marshmallows in my fireplace rather than over a fire pit in the mud.

And I'd rather stay home and write, with my electricity and my internet, than try to read by a tiny book light while I attempt to prevent frostbite, and likely pass out from sheer exhaustion before I finish a single page.

The things I do for my kid.

Since I'm the only one in my training group with any experience camping with Girl Scouts, I left most of the planning to the others. It should be an interesting, likely costly, experience.

We normally spend about $6-$8 per girl for food for an entire weekend. We do this by shopping in bulk, eating on the cheap, and understanding that camp is not the place for gourmet meals. Judging from the menu that the food coordinator prepared for us, I may be paying three times that much for my share. She is a nutritionist for a living, and the food will be fantastic, but I think the others in the group will be schooled. I enjoy fancy-schmancy name-brand food as much as the next person, but camp is more a place for Costco discounts than Whole Foods premiums. And that's half the fun of it.

So off I go. I have a billion things to do today, including chopping up candle stumps to make fire starters, restocking my first aid kit, and making sure I pack extra socks. I also have to complete the two page camp quiz, which I likely should have done before today. O_O

The camp site where I'll be staying may have sustained some Sandy-related damage, too. It's right down by a river, and it's muddy even when it hasn't been pouring rain all week. Hopefully I won't sink into the mud and disappear forever.



So to anyone who tries to reach me this weekend, I will return calls, emails, texts, and tweets, but it might be Sunday before you hear back.

Anyone else have anything more interesting planned for the weekend? I'm dying to hear about your non-damp, non-freezing activities. Sort of like watching Hawaii 5-0 during a snow storm. Keeps you feeling warm. :D

I Murdered Gary (my kindle) and Other Tales of Horror

Our camping weekend at Hersheypark was a lot of fun. There was this:

Luckily he didn't show up at our camp site to make s'mores.

Since it's Hersheypark in the Dark, here's the Wildcat all lit up. Roller coasters in the dark! It was awesome!

There was chocolate, chocolate, and more chocolate. And roller coasters. All of this was very, very good. Camping in the near-freezing cold wasn't bad, either. Once the thunderstorms died down. Luckily we were at Chocolate World during the worst of the weather. And I don't think I'd care if it were raining tarantulas if I were indoors at a place called Chocolate World. Am I right?

So, back to camp. Where everything started going sideways. First, there's Gary. Poor, dearly departed Gary! I'm crying in my soup! Here's his memorial photograph:

I laid down in the dark the other night, and had Gary in my hand. Before my head even hit the pillow, I heard a snapping noise, which was apparently my thumb crushing his poor little screen. I could just die, and you can bury me alongside dearest Gary. RIP, Gary. You will be missed.

It's hard to believe things get worse than that, but they do.

They have EXTREMELY SPECIFIC speed limits in Hershey.

We got up early today, packed up, and my BRAND NEW sleeping pad got doused with soda. It's sticky and stained now. I haven't even used it yet. Not to mention the inside of the tent that was also soda-soaked.

The worst thing was that after everything else, my car did not start this morning. Laden with gear and girl scouts, on a SUNDAY, getting someone to come help with my truck was nearly impossible. Thank goodness for OnStar, because they worked their bottoms off trying to get someone to help. And thank goodness we were at a campground. Have you ever noticed how many helpful, kind people there are at campgrounds?

Within five minutes of raising the hood on the truck, I had half a dozen other campers gathered around to help. Eventually one of the campground employees rolled up in a golf cart, and decided he could get us up and running. He came back with jumper cables and his own truck. Within ten minutes, we were on the road. It was spectacular. So a million thanks to everyone who offered to help, everyone who works at Hershey Highmeadow, and specifically the nice man with the jumper cables. It turns out one of the battery wires had come loose. What a relief! So while I have to replace Gary, I don't also have to replace my starter or alternator or battery. :D Whoop whoop!

So that's the sad tale of my weekend. I'm going to eat away my stress by consuming the rest of the chocolate we bought.

Hope y'all had a less stressful and yet still otherwise awesome weekend! Because despite all the depressing bits, the overwhelming majority of the weekend was spectacularly fun. I am declaring this coming week the Week of Writing. Since Gary's dead, it's not like I can distract myself with reading.

Off Grid Update

It's been a crazy week. I put myself out there in a way I never thought I could. I'm now forever on the interwebs moving and talking about a novel I wrote. My Pitch Live entry made it to the agent round, but hasn't garnered any love (as of this time of this writing).

I'm also in the agent round of Hook, Line, and Sinker. Whooboy! It's all a little crazy around here with the contests and the everything else. I'll be a little relieved to lose the ability to obsessively check the internet every five seconds. I'm going camping. In the cold. :D

I am in the middle of a packing and gear-checking frenzy. Don't want to have a leaky tent in the near-freezing middle of the night.

Instead of writing this week, I ended up reading the highly entertaining @Fizzygrrl's manuscript. *pauses while you work through your jealousy* It took a whole day (like from 8 am until 2 in the morning), but it's a riot, of course!

And now I will not be able to write all weekend. I'm determined to have a little writer's retreat. Maybe I'll lock myself in the attic among all the outgrown toys and holiday decorations next week, and not come down until I have a complete first draft. On second thought, there's no bathroom up there. Maybe I'll just enact a cone of silence around my comfy chair. We'll see if that works. Updates to follow.

In the mean time, try to enjoy the internet without me. O_O

Anyone else doing something fun this weekend? Or writing?

Camp Backlash, and catching up on the Blogfest

Howdy! First of all, I'm relieved to be home. Camp is always fun, but it has its down side. The new definition of "cankles" is "Camp Ankles", if that helps clarify. I twisted my right ankle the first night at camp. That's what I get for going out without a flashlight. Midweek, I had the crazy desire to tweet a photo of just how dark camp is, but it would be silly to tweet a black rectangle.

Just when I thought the right ankle was healing up, I whacked my left ankle with a kayak. That's what I get for trying to load kayaks onto a trailer by myself. Lesson learned.

We (the adults at camp) start out the week with high hopes and a boatload of work to do. We want the campers and PA's (Program Aides, the Girl Scouts equivalent of Camp Counselors) to have the best experience possible. We have the best of intentions, and a boatload of coffee to get us through the week. By Wednesday, we're running on fumes and in need of a break.

Wednesday is also the night that the campers in grades 3-6 get to spend the night. The week-long staff and PA's get the night off, and our replacement shift comes in to cook, run the activities for the overnight, and clean up. We get to chill. Or roast. We had a campfire and made smores.

Thursday morning is when my gasket actually blew out, and I was sent away for therapeutic reasons. I was seriously on the verge of psychosis, and had to get away. Luckily, the camp is very close to some great National Park and State Park facilities. I decided to head over to Cunningham Falls State Park. Either swimming in the lake or hiking to the falls sounded perfect. I chose hiking, since I'd still end up somewhere watery, and could swim later if I felt like it.

I drove over, looked longingly toward the Catoctin Mountain National Park on the other side of the road, and stuck to my guns. I wanted to see waterfalls, darn it. I parked, and had to make another choice. There were two routes to the falls, the cliff trail and the low trail. I chose cliff. It sounded kinda dramatic, no?

I had to stop about two minutes into my climb. Yes, climb. The Cliff Trail lived up to its name. It was steep. I kept going, and was rewarded. The other side of the mountain (read: hill to those of you who think we don't have mountains in the East) was a precipitous winding trail that mountain goats can appreciate. Even with my sprained ankle, I ran the whole way down, leaping from rock to rock. It was AWESOME!

I found the falls, splashed in the creek below, and then hiked off trail up the hill a ways to find a quiet spot to sit and read for a few hours. I was rewarded with this:

Behind my backpack there was a perfect lounge chair carved from rock, in sight of the falls. All I could hear was falling water and birdie twitterings. I sat there for about two hours, and then hiked back out.

The view from my seat in the woods. The falls are around that little hill to the left.

 The best part of this trip, my water shoes no longer smelled like the stinky lake where we kayak at camp. Their stink-free state lasted for about an hour, until I ran the afternoon kayaking sessions. I have to hose them out again. Ick.

Other random weirdness from camp:

1. The theme at camp was "Best of the West." We were supposed to be learning about frontier life and what it was like to be a cowboy. Somehow, a character was invented who took over the camp. The girls created "Bad Bart" or "Black Bart" or "Bad Black Bart" depending on who you asked. He and his gang tried to sneak into camp and steal our gold. Boy, would they be surprised to learn all our "gold" was actually fish tank gravel coated with metallic spray paint. We should have let him have it and been done with it.

We built a wagon, and the camp director painted it. After it rained, she painted it again! And we had horsies!

It was fun chasing Bad Bart all over camp, but we've never had so many skinned knees and twisted ankles .

2. We get silly when we're sleep deprived. One other adult enlightened us as to the definition of "weenus," which is the stretchy skin on your elbow. We spent a good hour thinking of ways to work it into conversation with our husbands when we got home. "Dear, we can see your weenus." "It looks like your weenus is sunburned." "I saw Bad Bart run through camp, his weenus swinging in the breeze." This was all highly entertaining Thursday evening.

3. Thursday night is PA movie night. We took the girls up to the theaters in Gettysburg, and they had their choice of three films. Lulu and I went to see Brave. I was really glad I brought my scarf to use as a blanket. The theater was really cold. I didn't need it to wipe my eyes. Much. Oh, ok. I wept. Sue me.

4. A man who lived nearby brought a kitten to camp. He caught some strays and was trying to find good homes for them. I still have his phone number. The kitten was cute. Should I call him back? Do I need another kitty?

5. I found a tree that had mitten-shaped leaves:

I think that's about it. The highlights of a very long, but immensely fun week. I intended to post this last night, and to interview the next person on the Blogfest list (Gwen Gardner), but I crashed and burned. I slept for 14 hours straight. I'm here again. I'll post new interviews by tomorrow.

I certainly got some reading done at camp, but I didn't do one lick of writing. I even brought the laptop along, but I never even opened it. Not once. I've been rewarded with an idea for a new YA novel. I'm abandoning book 3 of my current series to tackle the wilds of YA. Book 3 isn't as urgent in my brain at the moment, so I'm itching to start something new. And the New Thing has a lot of promise. And it makes me tingly to think about! :)

Thanks, and Ahoy!

I'm going off the grid. I hope I come back...

For the next six days, I'll be somewhere in the wilderness. Camp. It's always fun, but if nothing's changed since last year, that also means I'll be COMPLETELY DISCONNECTED FROM THE INTERNET! *feel free to panic on my behalf*

There's one spot at the camp, out back between the kitchen and the dumpster, where I can get phone messages if I stand on one leg, point my left hand due North-Northwest, and recite the alphabet backward in a Cookie Monster voice. Unless the Cellular Deities have bestowed new towers in the wilderness of the Catoctins, I'm afraid this will be the extent of my connectivity. One night we're planning to take the girls into Civilization to see a movie, so I might have a technology reprieve midweek. We'll have to wait and see.

In the mean time, I hope y'all enjoy the Internets without me. I'm going to have to figure out this newfangled thing called a "book." It's made of paper, but it's full of words! Just like the Internets! Unfortunately, I think I got a defective book, because there's no photos of cats doing funny things, or GIF's of Doctor Who, and no clicky-links! Gah!

Morgan: Defender of the Camp Shirts

Lulu is a counselor this year at camp. Her camp name is Bumblebee. There will be a hundred girls who won't ever think of her as Lulu, but for the rest of their lives will call her Bumblebee. She is okay with this. The camp already had a Darth Vader and a Voldemort, so Bumblebee was about the best name she could get. I leave you with The Bemittened One keeping her new t-shirts warm.

Profile Not Found

My computer delivers this error every day, at least once a day. I have no idea what it means, what program is missing its profile, or why it insists on showing me this message every single day.

I was initially concerned that I'd been logged out of something by mistake, that the computer forgot who I was, or that programs would start crashing left and right without the proper profile. That was months ago. Every day in the early afternoon, this message shows up. If anyone has any idea what the heck it means, I'd love to know. Otherwise, I stopped caring months ago.

I saved up a week's worth of errands, and finally had to go out today. Of course, since I was finally at the point where it was either go shopping or have buttered toast for dinner, it didn't matter that it poured rain today. I had to go out anyway. I don't mind running errands in the rain, if those errands don't result in eight shopping bags full of heavy things that need to be ferried out to the truck and then into the house in the deluge.

I also had to buy some craft supplies for Lulu's history class project about Greek gods. I had to buy supplies to build a mountain (for Gaia to live under, of course), and things to make a rainbow (for Iris to shoot up into the sky). Craft stores are evil. They make me buy tons of things I don't really need, while allowing me to forget half the stuff I went in for. Ceramics glue, anyone? I forgot to buy it. But I found several types of bee appliques and buttons to sew on Lulu's t-shirt for camp. All the counselors get to pick a cute nickname, and she's Bumblebee. Now she'll have bees all over her camp shirts.

Target is another store where I forget what I went in for but end up buying $60 worth of random crap. Actually, I got a good deal on a new sleeping bag. I hated my old one, since it was one of the "mummy" style bags that don't allow for leg movement. I'm getting antsy just typing about not being able to move my legs. I'll be back to finish this in a minute. I gotta walk around for a minute, and maybe find a paper bag to hyperventilate into...

Okay. Deep breathing helped.

And I bought food. But I forgot to bring my shopping list for Chuck Wendig's Faux Pho, which makes me mad. On a side note, I highly recommend the Terrible Minds blog, unless you are constitutionally opposed to swearing. Or fun. I have about half the ingredients, but tried to remember the remainder of the list. I gave up after a few key ingredients weren't even available at my regular supermarket. Strangely, the Helper Monkey works for that same grocery store chain, but at a much more urban store than the one where I shop. My store's Asian section consists of about two feet of shelf space, 80% of which is different brands of soy sauce. No hoisin sauce, no fish sauce. At least they sell Sriracha.

Helper Monkey's store has half an aisle devoted to Asian foods. He'll definitely have everything, in multiple size packages, six different brands, and also low sodium, gluten free, and sugar free varieties, I expect. I have to make up a list for him to buy all the things for me. I passed a Vietnamese restaurant today, and I was dying for Pho, but I didn't have time to stop. Now the Pho craving is approaching critical mass, and I will self destruct without spicy noodle goodness.

So, as you can plainly see, today was carefully crafted to prevent me from writing. Again. I've been reading the last few days, but not writing. And the writing will have to wait another few days, again. Just when I think I'll have plenty of time to write, something comes along and makes itself more important, or at least more urgent. I have to stop thinking that. It's my own fault for not writing, and I can't blame a busy schedule, or other pressing things, no matter how important they may seem, or how important I can make them seem, for my lack of focus.

I think part of the problem in this case is I'm puzzling over the next scene. I haven't puzzled this much over a book since the first novel I ever wrote. This is the fifth. I should be able to write through the rough patches by now without the wailing and tearing of hair. It's getting a little ridiculous. The first book in this series went from 0 words to query in about two months. The second, in another four months. We're talking multiple drafts and revisions on each of these, including critiques and advice and updates. I'm stuck at the half way point in this book, and have been for a week. It's making me insane. And this is just the first draft!

I put it on hold for a week to do revisions on the first novel, and was relieved for the chance to step away for a while. Now that I don't have an editing project to focus on, I'm taking on other work in order to have a legitimate excuse not to work on it. Either something is inherently wrong with the story, or I'm flummoxed as to how to get from point a to point b. I know there's a way, but the tone and setup of this novel is so completely different from the first two, I just don't know how to proceed. The first novel is a pretty straightforward paranormal thriller/serial killer hunt. The second is a weird romp through fairyland and the underworld chasing down escaped demons. Lots of action, go go go stuff.

This novel is a kidnapping case, and the stakes are pretty high--a lot higher than any of the characters realize yet. And for some reason I can't translate that to paper. And in the next scene, one of the bad guys, who isn't actually all that bad... well, let's just say it's bad. I've been putting off writing that scene for about two weeks. I know it has to be written, but it's just a horrible scene. Something my characters are going to regret. And it must happen. But Idonwanna write it!

So on that note, I'm going to go TRY to write that horrible scene. I have to at least try. Or what good am I? I may as well throw in the towel on ever publishing anything if I'm not willing to force myself to write something uncomfortable. Something I really, truly don't want to write.

The work I'll actually get paid for will have to wait until tomorrow. I'm putting on my writer hat. And on that note, Profile Found.

I am writing.

Camping done, back to work...tomorrow

I've been camping for the last 48 hours. I am question-mark shaped now from hauling gear, hiking, and everything else. It's good to be back in the Comfy Chair.

Strange things we've eaten, since we let the girls plan all the meals:

1. Train Wreck Soup: Everyone brought a can of their favorite soup, and we mixed them all together in one pot. Sounds gross, tastes fantastic! Who knew beef stew, chicken noodle, and Italian wedding soup all tasted good mixed together? I swear, it's true.

2. Puppy Chow: No, not dog food. It just looks like dog food. It's rice Chex coated with melted peanut butter and chocolate, then sprinkled with powdered sugar. It's the most evil Chex mix ever. Yum!

3. Little pizzas made on Pillsbury canned biscuit dough. Surprisingly good.

4. Breakfast casserole, made in crock pots. Tater Tots, eggs, cheese, and sausage. YUM!!!

Non strange foods: spaghetti, s'mores , muffins, apples, pigs in blankets, etc.

Smores caveat: The firewood we had was too green to burn, so it took forever to get the fire started, and it smoked so bad we were all weeping and runny-nosed, sitting outside freezing our buttocks off. Eventually we got it going, and had a great time, though.

It was a good weekend, and we all had a lot of fun, but now it's time to get back to work. Yes, indeedy. (mentally standing here, looking around, swinging arms back and forth, feeling kinda lost).

I've got to go back and re-read everything I've written up to this point, because apparently two days in the woods with 6th graders makes your brain melt. First thing when I got home today, I set up the crock pot and put some beef stew together. Well, technically I did that second, after I spilled my soda all over my coat, mittens, and the kitchen floor and had to clean it all up. I still haven't brought in the rest of my gear from the truck. I only brought in the perishable food and the crock pot. Unfortunately, my chocolate stash is still out there, so I guess I really should go dig everything out. The only down side: when I bring in the dirty camp clothes, I have to do laundry.

I really need a good night's sleep, one in which I'm not three inches off the floor in a sleeping bag. I sincerely hope I'm able to get back to work by tomorrow. I think right now I'm going to see what recorded this past week on the tivo, and try to recover from the sodium overdose we suffered this weekend.

Also on the menu for this week: Tim's got the week off work, so we're going to pull all the trumpet vine off the front deck, pressure wash it, and then stain it. Sound like fun? Don't you wish you were me? Cripes.

So now, I'm going to finish watching this ridiculous tv movie with the kid and try to forget all the physical labor in store for the rest of the week.

No update from the last writing updates, so that's all for today.

Surprise surprise!

After I wrote for a bit yesterday morning, I really needed to get to the store. I had to make sure Tim wouldn't starve to death while Lulu and I went camping this weekend, and I needed to gas up the buggy so we wouldn't wheeze to a halt on the highway somewhere. I also had to deliver the kid's forgotten lunch to school before she starved to death!

Well, I'd just left the school and I drove about half way to the store, when the little chime on my phone alerted me to a new email in my Author email account. (Yes, I have a dedicated email account for all things writery. All writers should.) I figured it was another rejection, and kept driving. Between the bad weather and the ding-dong I was driving behind, by the time I got to the store, I'd totally forgotten about the email. I remembered it while I pushed my cart through the produce department. I paused a moment to feel the momentary heartbreak of rejection, and WOWIE ZOWIE!!! It was the nicest, most enthusiastic request for a full manuscript I'd ever received! May I repeat, WOWIE ZOWIE!!!

When I got over the shock of it, I called Tim. I felt like a ninny, standing by the lettuce, all giddy, telling him about the email. At that point, I still had to actually buy food, and then head across the parking lot to the gas station. I raced/danced my way around the store, practically singing the entire way. I ended up buying chocolate, Oreo Cakesters, and Cherry Juice (these are celebratory foods). I was indeed truly ninnyish.

I battled the gas pump, filled up the beast in record time, and then drove home unimpeded (thankfully) by any other traffic. I had to put all the perishables away, and repackage the meat I'd accidentally tore the packaging on with my pointy ring while I shoved and crammed everything else into the fridge. And then the doorbell rang. GAH!!!

I forgot I had a contractor coming by, and he needed to talk to me about the job he's scheduled to do. We need to have our house repainted, per the community association. Apparently the old stain is too faded for their tastes. And I have to re-stain the deck too, but I can handle that bit myself. So after I dealt with all this other stuff, I finally had a minute to sit down and format all the requested stuff for the lovely agent.

I checked everything over thirty-seven times, and finally brought myself to hit "send." It was just over two hours after the initial request came in. She replied IN UNDER TWO MINUTES! It wasn't an autoresponse, either, but a very nice letter letting me know she got it, and she couldn't wait to read it. And again, WOWIE ZOWIE!!!

Whew! So after all that, I was truly grateful that I'd managed to write some yesterday morning, because the rest of the day I was so distracted that I think I managed to write another few paragraphs, at the most. Even if I end up with a rejection in the end, this has been a lot of fun. Every other request for pages or fulls has been either written by an assistant, or just a simple two sentences asking to see more in plain business language. This was different. So much nicer! It's great to feel special like that.

So now we are at T minus 5 hours to camping. I still have to finish packing, shower, attend an Honor Roll assembly, and clean out Little Red (there's still Girl Scout Cookies we haven't been able to deliver in the backity back). So glad it's not raining today, though!

So I've decided I won't even look at the current MS today, because if I do get started on a roll with it, I won't be able to continue, and the pain of leaving it hanging until Sunday would drive me crazy. I'm already depressed enough about not being able to take the computer with me! :)

Words: 4,936
Pages: 17

And yes, I'll even miss making my daily blog entry. Last night, I had a great idea, including pictures and everything, and I can't for the life of me remember what it was now. I just remember thinking, "Yeah! That's what I'll write about tomorrow." If I ever remember what it was, I'll probably just forget again before I get to write it down.

At least the cat didn't sleep ON me last night. Oh, but that's probably my fault. I'd forgotten to let him in from the back porch. Oops. I remembered after about an hour, and he was all huddled up by the back door waiting to come in. I think he was just mad at me for forgetting about him. :(  Hey, at least I remembered eventually!

Okay, the sun's hitting me in the face. Time for a break. Have a great weekend. If you don't hear back by Sunday, send snow tires! We might get snowed in at camp and be unable to return on time. I hope not, but I'm prepared for the worst. I packed those Cakesters in my emergency kit.

Of my own making

My latest series of catastrophes is completely of my own making. I forgot to give my husband something to take by a friend's house (the friend lives 27 miles away, but only half a mile from Tim's job, so it's convenient to make him my errand boy). Now I have to remember to give it to him to take tomorrow. Gak.

If that's not bad enough, I packed Lulu's lunch this morning, took her to the bus stop, came home, and found the damned lunch sitting on the counter. The kid's in 6th grade, so I've been doing this for a good long while now. This is the first time in the history of her education that I forgot to put the lunch in her backpack. Not a bad record, but still, it makes me think my brain's starting to go soft.

Maybe it's the cat's fault. After all, he did sleep on my legs all night. Maybe that affected my sleep somehow.

Morgan

I have a king sized bed. Most nights, Tim's at work, so I'm all alone in the gigantic bed. Morgan doesn't think he should have to stretch out and relax on that vast field of blankets. No. He prefers my lumpy legs. Two days in a row now I've awakened with cramps in my legs from the cat using me as a nest. Even worse: I spent two days last year making him a soft, cozy cat bed. I learned to use my serger by constructing a durable, attractive, and comfortable cat bed. Instead, he curls up on me. I guess I really shouldn't complain. At least he likes me.

Maybe that's his way of showing his appreciation for the cat bed. "Thanks mom, I love the cat bed you made for me, so I'll demonstrate my love by ignoring the cat bed and sleeping on you more often."

And the countdown to my computer-free weekend is started. I have just under thirty hours to go before I have to leave Nero behind and huddle in the frozen woods the rest of the weekend. (yes, my computer is called Nero. Don't you name all your electronics? I suppose that's a post for another day.)

I still have to:
1. Get to the grocery store
2. Deliver the forgotten lunch to school
3. Pack for both myself and Lulu
4. get gas for the monster truck (aka Little Red. You name your cars, too, right?)
5. attend the Honor Roll assembly at school tomorrow
6. launder sleeping bags

Huh, I thought there was more stuff to do. I suppose there is more to do, since I left of WRITING AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE BEFORE I HAVE TO LEAVE. I hate leaving when I'm just framing the plot for the new book. It's torture! I can take notes while I'm away, but I won't be able to really work on the story, and it's killing me. I'll have to get over it. I'll only be gone 48 hours or so, but it's still hard.

Funny: Who knew I'd ever get all whiny about NOT being able to work on a weekend? HA!

Words: 3,945
Pages: 14

Doing well, but it's still chapter 1. Hopefully I'll actually have a writing update to post tomorrow... Off to the races now.