Report From The Blanket Fort

I just realized it's been more than a week since I posted anything. I'd feel worse about that if I didn't already feel so awful. I spent the last few days battling the plague, and today took the cake.

I had to go grocery shopping. When you're sick, feeling queasy, and just want to curl up into a ball and die, NOTHING is worse than being surrounded by food. Even the smell of fresh baked bread couldn't help me today. For better or worse, to fend off starvation, someone had to shop. Someone, at least in this household, means me.

I'm not sure I actually bought any nutritionally valid foods (not true, I bought fruits AND vegetables), but I know we won't run out of comfort foods for a good long time to come. Cupcakes, brownie mix, blueberry muffins, Pirate's Booty, pudding, chocolate, ice cream... need I go on? Because I could. I could go on and on.

So even though I felt DISGUSTING, and haven't had an appetite in DAYS, I knew I still had to provide food for my family. I'm sure they'll be able to cobble together a few days' worth of decent meals out of the bizarro conglomeration of food I brought home. At the very least, they won't starve to death before I get well enough to remember how the food pyramid works.

This is correct, right? Because I thought caffeine was one of the lower foundation blocks.

I feel the same way about my writing after the last few days. I had a headache so awful I couldn't even wear my glasses. It was pleasant to just let the world go fuzzy and out of focus. It actually hurt to see clearly. Not being able to wear my glasses meant not being able to read anything on the computer, unless I felt like sitting with my face six inches from the screen. I've been mostly off Twitter and the rest of the interwebs for several days now, and all I've been able to do is read on the kindle. I can easily hold that six inches away from my face for long periods of time. :D

I may have indulged in a reading binge, but I haven't been able to write. This saddens me to no end. I love the draft I'm working on, but the scene I'm at is one of those pivotal scenes where everything has to work out exactly right, not just for this novel, but for the other three I've already written in this series, and which take place AFTER this novel. This is the BIG EVENT that defines the rest of my MC's life, and I'd be turning to jelly inside writing it even if I wasn't already feeling quite gelatinous due to the plague.

For anyone who is at all familiar with Running Down the Dragon, I'm writing the events from Thalia's early life that basically define the next 2,000 years for her. So, no pressure there, right? :/

If only I wasn't so unbelievably miserable. I'm going to crawl back inside the Blanket Fort of Infinite Decrepitude, and I'll hopefully see y'all again soon, back in the world of the living. Keep everything cozy out there.

A Grand Day Out

I've been trying to get to local author events and book signings lately, especially now that Lulu is beginning to explore the YA genre, which I read a lot of, and is also showing an interest in writing. *quiet, nonthreatening squeeing from me* *wouldn't want to frighten her out of the Writermobile*

When I learned that Maureen Johnson was coming to speak at the Bethesda Library, I knew Lulu would enjoy it. *and yes, I knew I would enjoy it too*

Thursday nights are Family Night around here, since it's Helper Monkey's only night off work. We try to do something together, as a family. I asked him if he'd mind if I took Lulu to this event, and he responded that he'd actually like to come with us. I was pleasantly surprised.

Helper Monkey grew up in Bethesda, and it's also where we met 17 years ago. It was a little trip down memory lane for us. As a bonus, a friend of his works at a great Lebanese restaurant just a few blocks from the library, and he's been asking us to come for dinner forever. The plan was for us to go to the event, and then have a nice dinner out.

I half expected him to simply tolerate the book event. He's not exactly the YA book target market. Sure, he'll read a Harry Potter, or a Percy Jackson, but that's about the extent of his forays into books for non-adults.

I am now 100% convinced that Maureen Johnson is contagious, or possibly emits some sort of radioactive mutation field. In the best possible way. Helper Monkey was absolutely delighted by her, and is now following her on Twitter. He's going to read Name of the Star when he's done with whatever it is he's reading now. My reaction:



So the family had a lovely time. Thanks to Maureen, the Bethesda Library, and Politics and Prose. :D

Once we were done, we went for Lebanese food at Bacchus. Oh. My. Commas. It was a feast. Let's just say I wished I'd worn a skirt with an elastic waistband. On the plus side, I ate a lot of tomato slices in cucumber sauce. Nom! I apologized for stealing all the tomatoes, claiming I was in the middle of a Tomato Jones. For the rest of the evening, the family referred to me as Tomato Jones, and suggested I write a series of detective novels starring this new character. Perhaps, Tomato Jones: Sliced and Diced.

There was this:

Then there was dessert. This custard was flavored with honey and rosewater. I would like to marry this dessert. I told Helper Monkey I was leaving him for it, and told Lulu she should learn to love her new father as much as I do.

Unfortunately, I ate it all, so I decided to stay with Helper Monkey. At least until next time...

There was also Turkish coffee and baklava. Noms.

I haven't eaten that well in...years, probably. All the noms.

All told, it was truly a grand day out.

Untweetworthy, Part the Fourth

Sometimes, about a thousand untweetworthy things occur all at once. Yesterday was one of those days.

For the first time in about a year, I went out to lunch with a particular friend of mine. Our favorite thing to do is to go to Ikea, browse around until we get hungry, then eat at the restaurant, then buy as many unpronouncable things as we can afford, and then drive home in time for our kids to get home from school. It's a silly way to spend the day, but we really needed a break from the routine. I needed a writing break, and since she works from home, she just wanted to get out in the world with another (sort-of) grown up. It worked out well.

When we got there, I sort of felt like this:

Happy Strawberry.

But as things went along, and I realized they'd rearranged the entire store since I'd been there last, I felt a little:

Stunned Owl.

By the time we were done and ready to go home, I was definitely reduced to:

Because I don't speak Swedish, and I refuse to accept the printed translation, I'm going to assume this means Drunk Flower.

When I successfully found my way out of the Maze of Stylish Swedish Things, I sent this tweet:

I have returned from Ikea. You can call off the search party. I am all stocked up on unpronouncable goods.
— Laura Hughes (@MittensMorgul) January 10, 2013

I am proud of this because Ikea favorited it. Silly, right?

Also, I bought something called Pepparkaka. I also bought a Pepparkaka house. Both of these things made me giggle in an entirely inappropriate manner. *these things are gingerbread*

Here ends the Ikea portion of today's program. Let's begin the cat portion, shall we?

We've taken down all the Christmas decorations, but the tree is still standing, in all its naked plastic glory. I'm so sad to see it go, not because of all the fond family feelings surrounding the holiday, but because the cat seems to love it. He spends half his day eight feet up the tree.

So now we're looking into buying or building a kitty tree for him, but one made for cats. I am such a sucker.

Okay, so now, on to the comestibles.

Earlier this week, I made a really nomulent chicken soup called Cock-A-Leekie. Go ahead and say it aloud. Feel free to say it again. It is fun to say. I haven't stopped saying cock-a-leekie all week.

Last night I was supposed to enjoy a fun family meal of pizza before I had to head out to a meeting. Instead of eating and spending time with Helper Monkey and Lulu, I fell asleep in my Comfy Chair. Even more shocking, I WAS WEARING REAL PANTS! IN MY WRITING CHAIR! Who knew walking around for half the morning would knock me out? I woke up just in time to leave for my meeting.

To avoid driving off the road in my stupor, I grabbed a can of Cherry Coke on my way out. I was looking forward to my caffeine fix. First thing I did after signing in to the meeting? I spilled half the soda all over the sign in sheet, proving just how much I needed to drink it as opposed to dumping it out all over a table.

FOUR DAYS IN A ROW! That is how many times this week I have known the answer to Final Jeopardy, and NONE of the contestants on the show knew the answer. Too bad I don't get paid for playing at home. :/

And I think Twitter has already accepted all the other non-tweet-worthy things I've thought of today. It really has been a banner day for me. Between essentially rewriting the first chapter of the manuscript I've spent the better part of a year querying and then feeling stressed out about having wasted so many chances to show wonderful agents my best work, it's been full of feels. Now I am subjecting my brave and intrepid CP's to my Frankenscript. I can't even. There is too much.




 

Imma go drown all those feelings with alcohol and then start writing again! Wheeeeee!

Editing, With Cookies

I've been doing a lot of baking this week. I made about 300 Christmas cookies, most of which I will be giving as gifts to friends, family, neighbors, and anyone else, because otherwise I would eat all 300 of them. But that's another story entirely.

This morning while I stood in the kitchen, rolling out yet another pan of cookies, I realized how much it reminded me of editing. I'll get into that in a second. First, for non-writer friends, or anyone who clicked through just to see pictures of baked goods, a little anecdote.

On Sunday, Lulu helped me bake the first batch of cookies, and I thought for sure it would take twice as much time to make today's batch by myself. Not so. Turns out, I'm pretty efficient on my own. It was, however, a lot less fun to bake alone. I guess that's why my mind wandered so far from baking.

So here goes, my doughy mashup of holiday baking and editing.

Sunday's cookies were green. We cut out trees and holly leaves, and dipped them in white chocolate. Snow, y'all! Today's cookies were SUPPOSED to be red, but even after using most of a bottle of red food coloring, they still look a little pink. I figured they'd darken up a bit in the oven. Yeah, not so much.

Sort of red.

So this is the raw material I had to work with. My original draft. I could have just wadded it up and shoved it in the oven as-is. It would probably taste okay, but there would be no beauty. Not to mention, it wouldn't bake evenly. There'd be doughy bits in the center, and the bottom would certainly burn. It needed zazz. It needed editing. BRING ON THE COOKIE CUTTERS!

I started the job with dough that was ALMOST the right color, but there wasn't really much I could do with it. I tried adding more food coloring, but it seemed to get a brighter and brighter pink, rather than deepening to a rich red. I stopped before I turned the stuff day-glo fuschia, at least. Knowing when to stop walking down a path that isn't turning out right is half the battle in editing, too.

So finally it was time to cut. I intended to make a batch of stars and then dip them in dark chocolate. I have a half a dozen different star shaped cookie cutters, so I got them all out. Some have five points, some six, and one even has eight points! Variety! I picked one out and set to work. Between the strange dark pink color and my indelicacy with a spatula, most of the first batch reminded me of Patrick Star.

Just add green shorts and a confused facial expression.

I saw my mistake. The points of this star were too long and thin. They tended to bend a little when I transferred them to the cookie sheet. I tried to straighten them out, but then I ended up with bloated blobby points. Not to mention in that first pan, I don't think I rolled the dough thin enough. They were still puffed up too much.

Same goes for editing. The first pass through a manuscript will be rough. Even the basic shape of it might be a little off. Big things are easy to spot and fix. The obvious. The glaring. Like, "Hey, that looks like a beautiful daisy!" "Uh, yeah, but it's supposed to be a STAR!" You see smaller things you need to fix, but you have to be able to see all the problems before you can fix them all. It was time to try again. Second round!

On the second try, I used a different shape. It had shorter arms, and they were less likely to end up looking like Patrick, but they were also more likely to end up looking blobby. Live and learn.

Sometimes in editing you make a change, and take it too far. You wouldn't want to remove ALL the adverbs, for example. The rules of writing exist, but that doesn't mean they are etched in stone and you'll be thrown out of the Temple of Publishing forever if you bend them a little. In fact, if you don't bend them a little, you may as well be writing technical manuals, not fiction. You don't want to give up the essential look of a star just so you won't have to worry about bending the arms a bit. Blobby stars were a no go. Time for round three!

This time, I tried yet ANOTHER shape. This one wasn't half bad. It was much larger than the first two, so I could fit fewer on the tray at a time. I started to worry I'd be in the kitchen forever unless I did something drastic. I crammed as many of the large stars as I could on the tray, and lo and behold, problems arose.

SMOOSH!

Same goes for editing. Work too fast, or try to cram too much in during one revision, and it starts to blur together in your mind. You have to keep characters, subplots, and scenes separate, or they start looking like one big character, one big muddle of scenes. Editing is not a time to rush. Your characters should be evolving and becoming more distinct, and your scenes should be clearer and more concise with each round. If you're racing through edits at a blur, that's how the story will look to your readers. On to round four!

Finding a satisfactory plan B.

By this point, I was sick of stars. They were hard to cut out and force them to hold their shape. What had become of all my brilliantly laid plans? Screw it! Time to make stockings instead.

Sometimes it's easier to just make a change when the reality of all the faults of your original plan seem to hit you at once. Sometimes a character needs to go. Sometimes, after several rounds of editing, you'll realize that one of your subplots goes nowhere. Sometimes you need to add in a new character, one who will help tie the story together. Whatever's wrong, sometimes it takes a big change of shape to set you back on the right course.

My stocking cookies will taste just as good as the stars, and they'll still get a chocolate coating, but won't they be a nice change from a mountain of stars? Okay, now that I'm really getting the hang of this, I'm ready for round five.

Oops.

Sometimes things go awry. When baking, it's easy to dispose of the evidence. Om nom nom. When editing, sometimes it's best to do the same. Eat those plot holes! CHOMP!

Eventually the ball of dough you have to work with gets smaller

and smaller

and smaller...

Until you don't have enough to cut any more cookies. With each pass of edits, there should be fewer and fewer problems. Less to work with, not in the sense that there are few words in total, but in the sense that there are fewer WRONG words to fix. It's quite satisfying when a pass through only leads to minor tweaking.

In baking, I take that scrap of dough and mush it into a flat blob, and bake it with the rest of the cookies. It's the BONUS COOKIE! My reward for finishing the job.

Now all the hard work is done. It's time to add the decorations. In the case of my cookies, that means chocolate and sprinkles. In the case of my manuscript, it means showing it to my critique partners. They will spit shine it for me, and point out all the problems I'm unable to see for myself. You wouldn't go to all the trouble to bake up those tasty cookies and then leave off the final decoration, that last step. Don't think your manuscript is complete without running it by a few trusted writer friends, either.

I haven't had time to dip all the cookies from today's round of baking, but the ones we finished on Sunday look adorable (and taste quite nice, too). I need to take a break from the kitchen for a bit, but when I go back, I'll be fully engaged with putting the finishing touches on those cookies. Just like putting the finishing touches on my manuscript. Sometimes you need to walk away for a bit, let things cool down, and take everything in with fresh eyes. The cookies will have had a few hours to firm up, or they would crumble when I try to coat them in heavy chocolate. By the time I return, they'll be able to stand on their own. :D

Hope y'all didn't get a stomachache from too many cookie metaphors. Now I'm off to dispose of the evidence that I'm clumsy at handling fresh-baked cookies. And then I need to do some editing.

Thankful

I was going to tweet this stuff, but it is too much for tweeting. Happy Thanksgiving to everyone. If you're not in America, Happy Thanksgiving anyway. It's never a bad thing to be thanked. So thanks to you, too. :D

Here's some stuff I'm thankful for today. If I forgot something you think I should be thankful for, please let me know in the comments. I welcome the chance to feel even MORE thankful, at least as long as the egg nog holds out.

I'm Thankful for my family. They accept that I'm not quite right, and love me anyway.

Helper Monkey is thankful I didn't use the ambush photo I took of him.

Thanks, Tim, for putting up with me for the last almost 17 years. Love.

Lulu is not as thankful, since I used her ambush photo. Morning, hon.

I am thankful for Lulu, who is helping me cook today. I'm thankful she's growing up to be an awesome person. I'm thankful she hasn't yet devolved into rebellious teenagerhood. *fingers crossed*

Morgan. High on catnip.

I'm thankful for the fuzzy lumpkin.

I'm thankful for this pie.

Okay. This post seems to be devolving quickly. I have to go make stuffing, gravy, green bean casserole, biscuits, mashed potatoes, and probably other things that I forgot about completely.

But I wanted to also thank everyone I've met on my writing and publishing journey. To everyone who read my manuscript(s), THANK YOU. You have given me insight, advice, and encouragement. To everyone whose manuscript I read or critiqued, THANK YOU! You have given me hours of entertainment, and none of you have actually stabbed me yet! *fingers crossed*

Thank you all for being who you are. Now go enjoy some pie.

The Art of Compromise

Right. So I've known my husband, the Helper Monkey, for nearly 17 years now. We've been married for 15. And every once in a while, I learn something completely shocking about him. Sometimes it leads to snort-drooling laughter.

 

I decided to make pasta for dinner tonight, since I forgot to make up a shopping list for Helper Monkey to get the ingredients for @Fizzygrrl's crock pot curry recipe. This sort of mental lapse is typical. We eat a lot of pasta as a result.

So, I ask the Monkey and Lulu what kind of sauce they want. I have two jars, one regular marinara type sauce, and one of vodka sauce. Vodka sauce is one of my favorites, by the way, so I consider it a treat whenever I make it. I was personally leaning toward it, and had convinced Lulu it was the option to choose. Helper Monkey did not agree.

For the last seventeen years, I've made vodka sauce countless times. I knew it wasn't his favorite, but he always ate it with minimal grumbling. I don't know why tonight was any different, but The Truth has finally come out. Turns out, Helper Monkey equates vodka sauce with vomit. Lulu promptly renamed it Vomit Sauce, and hilarity ensued.

I laughed at his response, but then realized he was completely serious. This made me laugh harder. I was stomping around the living room with the reviled sauce, wondering how anyone could repeatedly eat something that they equated with puke. I have no idea why I found this so entertaining, but I was literally floored. I fell to my knees, laughing so hard I was drooling, all the while berating the Monkey for keeping his vitriolic hatred a secret so long. The mind boggles. Truly, if someone served me something I didn't like once, I'd probably eat it and be polite. I might mention that it wasn't exactly to my taste if they suggested they make it again. If they tried to foist such horror on me a third time, I'd put my foot down. There is no way in hell I'd repeatedly eat something I detested for seventeen years without opening my fat yap and screaming. No. Way. In. Hell.

The Monkey knows I like it, so he never said anything before now. O_o

Hello, people?! Compromise isn't about torturing yourself to make someone else happy. It's about having your needs met while also meeting the needs of others. Sure, I eat foods that aren't my favorite, but I do not eat foods I hate. I feel like I should bake the Monkey a cake. He's apparently suffered greatly in my culinary equivalent of Guantanamo. I'm pretty sure he likes chocolate cake, but I think I'll ask first, just to make sure...

I'll say one thing for sure, I am now eternally convinced of the Monkey's love. He suffered in silence all this time for me. Granted, I'd rather he'd have told me, but shoot. I can't be mad about it. He did it for love. :D

 

How far would you go to keep your dearest love happy? Would any of y'all really go this far? What's the nuttiest thing you've ever done for love? Or, if you're one of my writerly friends, what have you made your characters do for love? I'd love to know.

Frankenstorm: Is it time to panic yet?

For those who don't know, Helper Monkey works at a grocery store. He gets to witness storm panic first hand. When he got home this morning, he said the lines were out the door, and they were selling bottled water faster than they could restock the shelves. O.o

Also for those who don't know, I grew up in Miami. I survived Hurricane Andrew. We didn't have power for nine days after the storm. We didn't kill each other. There was no zombie uprising. Life went on.


A few years ago, we had Hurricane Irene hit the DC area, and watched appalled as folks prepared for the storm like they do for a blizzard. They lined up to buy bread, milk, and toilet paper. Sure, these things are all dandy, but when the power goes out, you're going to want a whole different list of things on hand. I think they've learned their lesson now.

My family and I go camping frequently, so we have a lot of the things that people might need in a power outage. Lanterns, batteries, a radio that works with a hand crank instead of batteries. We have ways to stay warm if the heat fails (since we have an electric heat pump). We have a fireplace and plenty of wood. We don't mind living off the grid for a few days, should our power go down. It's not fun to think about losing access to the internet, and not being able to write after my laptop battery and the backup battery both conk out, but I would live through it.

I volunteered to go to the grocery store today, but Helper Monkey vetoed that idea. He'll pick things up before he leaves work at 6 am. There shouldn't be horrible lines then. So far, my list of emergency supplies we need consists of:

Bread

Yes. One item. We went shopping a few days ago. I don't want to fill the freezer or fridge with things that would spoil. We always have a supply of canned goods and other foods that are shelf stable. I'm sure I'll add to the list throughout the day, but after Andrew, I can't really get worked up over a storm with merely 70-mph-winds. And we live so far inland, and up in the mountains (yes, technically they are mountains), I'm not particularly worried about my own house weathering the storm.

I am worried about all the low-lying, coastal dwelling folks not too far from here. If any of you want to camp out at my house, we're all ready. Bring marshmallows. We'll make s'mores and tell ghost stories.

So, the thing I'm worried about most at the moment are the ice cream I bought last week and had been saving for a rainy day. I guess I'll be devouring the Sea Salt Caramel Gelato in the next two days. That's right. Remember, everyone! Frankenstorm isn't even due to hit for ANOTHER TWO DAYS! YOU DO NOT HAVE TO PANIC YET! GO ABOUT YOUR BUSINESS! You have time to run all the errands, to fill your tank with gas, to make sure your zombie-slaying kit is in full working order!

And with that, I'm off to assemble my zombie-slaying kit. If I get cut off from the digital world, send flamethrowers. Good luck to you all.

A Banner Day

Yes, so much has happened today, I feel I must recount the fabulosity.

First of all, I finally got a car wash. It only took two months after I was named "Dirtiest Car in the Lot" at a baseball game and won free car wash coupons. Little Red is all shiny and pretty again. The guys with the soap mops were impressed with the amount of dirt that could accumulate on a well-loved pick-up truck. I almost didn't recognize it now that it's clean. Good thing it's overcast today, because I would have needed sunglasses to look at it otherwise.

Just before the soap-mop guys started laughing at the quantity of dirt on my truck.

Second of all, Lulu went to a Girl Scout program about money management. My proudest moment was when she already knew how to balance a check book, and could explain how credit cards work. She won prizes for her superior financial knowledge. Huzzah!

So while she was learning about the importance of saving and budgeting, I was over at Office Depot doing the opposite. I finally replaced my wonky computer mouse. I feel like I've taken a technological leap backwards, because I've had cordless mice for eons, but I didn't want to pay $20 more for the identical mouse without a cord. So now I'm tethered again. We'll see if it would have been worth the extra money after I knock this one to the floor a few times and trip over the cord, potentially breaking my neck. Or possibly the laptop. Maybe I didn't think this through...

Finally, we made it to Starbucks at Lulu's request. The only kind of coffee she likes is the pumpkin spice latte, or as she now calls it, Ermehgerd, Permpkern Sperce Lerte! For the first time, I tried the salted caramel. I have heard people raving about salted caramel for months now, but I've been hesitant to try it. Now all I have to ask is, WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME? Salted caramel is officially my new favorite thing.

While we enjoyed our beverages, we perused all the pretty new cell phones. Our contract is up soon, and Lulu and I are already debating what kind we should get. Helper Monkey will use whatever phone we get him, so he leaves it up to us to make the decision. At least we have a few months to hash out our philosophical technological differences before we have to commit.

Also, still making progress on the revision/rewrite/WIP. Friday Night Write Club has helped this week. If you're on the tweeties, follow @FriNightWrites and the hash tag #WriteClub for support, encouragement, and camaraderie. Go on, I'll wait while you click over and follow them.

Without further ado, here's the Progress-o-Meter:

Words: 55,503
Pages: 173
Edit Page: 128 (Chapter 11!!!)

And now, I'm debating watching Iron Man 2 or going back to work. Ah, heck, it's Saturday. I'm going to have some fun. Work it is! :D

Gratuitous Fun from the Maryland Renaissance Festival

We had a blast today in 1514. We saw Macbeth performed in 19 minutes (with an under 20 minute guarantee), hysterical performers dueling with swords, and an elephant! I never did get that glass of mead, but they make it at the winery near my house, so it's not like I'm never going to get any ever again. They had every type of food you can imagine served on a stick. Except soup, but that was served in an edible bowl made from bread. Cheesecake on a stick! Omnomnomnom!

So here's a little peek at our day. Enjoy!

Henry the VIII and Catherine of Aragon. Lovely.

I covet this hat. This is Helper Monkey's arms. He was a very helpful monkey today.

See, this hat is perfect for me.

This is a t-shirt that I was going to buy for Helper Monkey. He must have this. I was out of cash by that point, and I wasn't about to wait in a 50-person-deep line to use the ATM. If anyone knows where I can buy this shirt, I will love you forever. Thank you!

Lulu perusing the selection of Dragon Snot. Seriously, that's what the sign says. Note her fez, because fezzes are cool.

Speaking of cool, I wore my TARDIS t-shirt, and had about a thousand compliments. I've never gotten more than one or two remarks in a day on it anywhere else. This proves once and for all that I am truly a geek, and at home amongst the nerdiest people. I'm pleased. We're a nice bunch, if a little odd.

The main event is the jousting. For those who didn't know, jousting is Maryland's official state sport. Weird, huh.

The main culinary event. Best. Food. Ever. So not kidding.

So there you have it, the highlights of our day. :) Hope y'all had a nice weekend, too!

Food, Kitchens, and Cooking

Okay, I understand that I talk about food all too often. I can't help it. Helper Monkey works at a grocery store, and we talk about groceries at least three times a day. I assume most people do. For some reason, today was particularly food-centric for me. Here I attempt to rehash the most relevant moments of foodiness from today.


Saturday, Sunday, and Monday I worked baseball games, and the guilt of not being home for dinner three nights in a row was starting to get to me. My poor family had to get by on pizza, breakfast-for-dinner, and the like. Last night I cooked. It was nice for me, too. I'd been living on french fries and chicken fingers at the park.

Today Helper Monkey and I watched Hell's Kitchen, thus starting the food fuss. It all went downhill from there.

Before dinner, I exchanged an increasingly dyspeptic series of emails with Fabulous Crit Partner, Feaky Snucker, about disgusting foods. This chat centered around beets, in particular, and why we both think they are The Devil's Food. Now that I'm settled in with a therapeutic bowl of ice cream, I can discuss beets without feeling the need to hurl. It was not the best topic for pre-meal conversation, though.

Also, while making dinner, and yet again being blinded by steam fogging up my glasses, I wondered if there were any professional chefs who wear glasses. I wonder how they manage. I mean, I really only cook one meal a day, and it drives me bonkers to be periodically blinded while handling boiling hot things. It leads to a fair degree of physical injury.

While I cooked, we discussed the fact that one of the chefs on Hell's Kitchen professed a dislike of cilantro. Helper Monkey hates the stuff. I tried to convince him that it had a respectable place in cooking. Let's just say the conversation devolved comically to the point where Lulu chimed in that we were acting in a fashion unbecoming parents. I think it was my "OH NO YOU DIDN'T" comment that pushed her over the edge.

I asked the Monkey what Pad Thai (a dish he loves) would be without a little cilantro. He answered, "Better." "OH NO YOU DIDN'T!", to which he replied, "UH UH GIRLFRIEND!" etc. etc.

The conversation went downhill from there, to the point we were quoting Geoff Peterson and doing the Secretariat dance. Lulu observed like we were an exhibit at the zoo. She's our own personal Jane Goodall. Someday I'm sure we'll be the subject of an academic paper. Or therapy.

Luckily, I can go back to editing now. I think part of my problem is lack of sleep. I was up until 1:30 last night revising, and then up at 6 am today. Food (and caffeine) is about the only thing keeping me from slipping into a coma right now. And on that happy note, back to editing.

This little snippet of my fascinating life has been brought to you by the versatile herb, cilantro. Suck it up, Helper Monkey!

Blood and other necessasry things

Every 112 days, I'm eligible to donate blood. I'm tall enough, heavy enough, and A-negative enough to qualify to donate Double Red cells. This is not a regular blood donation. It's the super robot high tech blood donation. And it makes me LOOPY. I apologize in advance if this blog entry is less-than-sane.

They hook me up to an apheresis machine, which sucks out a regular unit of blood, spins out all the red blood cells, mixes the leftover bits (plasma, white cells, etc.) with some bizarro chemical, and then shoots the liquidy bits back into me. Then it repeats the entire process (draw out a unit of blood, spin, mix, return the dregs). It takes about an hour, makes my lips and nose tingle (that bizarro chemical's reaction), drops the body temperature (it's COLD in the Red Cross, and having two pints of 60-degree plasma shot into you in under an hour is chilling), and makes me woozy for a few days.

I hate feeling short of breath from climbing a single flight of stairs. I'm not fond of the lethargy. But then again, the person or people who benefit from my blood probably aren't fond of being in a hospital fighting for their lives. I figure my day or two of wooziness is a fair trade for someone's life. Especially knowing that my blood is usually used for premature babies and infants with chronic illnesses. Definitely worth the wooziness. And I got free cookies!

So if you aren't a regular blood donor, please think about going out this week to give a pint. It takes less than an hour, and you'll get free cookies. Oh, and you might save someone's life.

Only 5% of the eligible population actually donates regularly, and the donor center I went to today was deserted. It kind of makes me nervous to think if my life were on the line, there might not be any blood for me. My blood type is rare enough that I do worry about it once in a while... So if you're one of the rarer blood types, especially, please think about making donation a regular part of your life.

Plus, doesn't this look awesome? (squeamish people, please hit "page down" a couple of times right now)

Going Out

Coming back

Thanks for listening, or reading. Whatever. Loopy, remember?
END PSA.

So I finally managed to buy a ton of food that pleases both the Helper Monkey and Lulu. I was all set to put a roast in the crock pot this morning before going off to get loopy. But apparently I started out pre-loopified this morning, and I totally forgot. So, tomorrow we have the roast. Last night we had salmon steaks, corn on the cob, and taters. Starch city, but it was good.

Tonight, I was absolutely too whacked to cook, so we had pizza. The loopy continued, with Mr. Happy Sriracha Sauce Pizza Face Man.

Doesn't he look happy? He did, until I ate his face. Tasty!

Okay, where was I? Right. I've been Writing Actual New Words! Hooray! I hope they're not as kooky as I feel, but they actually exist, which is more than I can say about most of the week's writing progress.

Helper Monkey now has a new alert function: The Warning Siren of Distraction. Next time someone offers me a lovely gift that will clearly become an obsession, he's supposed to slap me on the back of the head like Gibbs on NCIS. Hopefully this tactic will work.

I'm not sure if it's a function of the bipolar disorder, or if I'm just a smidge OCD as well, but when I'm presented with a project that has a definite structure (such as a scarf to crochet, or a book to read), I tend to drop EVERYTHING ELSE, nearly to the point of forgetting to eat and sleep, until said project is complete. It's a Bad Thing. It's probably the Worst Thing, in fact. Anything that keeps me from writing regularly causes a backlog of the kinds of obsessive mental problems writing helps me deal with every day.

As much fun as it was to do something different for a few days, I'm suffering all around for not writing. But now I'm back at it. And oddly, I have a new idea for a new book, completely unrelated to the series I'm working on right now. We'll have to see if it goes anywhere, and I really have to get the first draft of the WIP done before I start anything new. Otherwise, I'll be stuck in a much larger version of the cycle of distraction I was trapped in for most of the week. Finish one project, then start the next. It's the only way I can work.

I'm completely envious of people who can work on two separate novels at the same time, but I just can't handle it.

Does anyone out there currently have two Works in Progress? I'd love to know how you juggle them both, or if you have a schedule for writing two works at a time. How do you balance it? How do you keep everything straight in your head? Just wondering. If you have a good strategy for managing it all, I'd be willing to give it a try... *frantic scanning of the room, waiting for the Gibbs Head Slap*

So that's it. Back to work! And it's now far enough out from the blood donation that I'm allowed A Happy-Ass Drink.

Progress-O-Meter:

Words: 52,458
Pages: 174

Strange Food Issues and Other Obsessions

My family is hard to cook for. Strangely, it's not the 11-year-old that has the food issues. It's the Helper Monkey with the sensitive tummy. Poor Sad Monkey!

I can't cook with peppers, and onions are only used sparingly. Chicken is boring. He's sick of pizza and pasta. That leaves me with few options on busy nights. I rely on stir-fry with rice or noodles a lot of nights because I'm too busy to cook a more complicated meal. Unfortunately, he hates this. Unfortunately, Lulu loves it. Her favorite snack is sliced bell peppers. I guess I should be glad she loves the vegetables, but I have to control myself because Helper Monkey would live on meat and carbs if I let him.

Dinner last night was a breaking point. I made a stir fry with chicken and veggies (leaving out the peppers and adding a bit of onion to balance out the flavor). Lulu loved it, I ate the whole thing, and Helper Monkey picked at it with disappointed chagrin. Again, Poor Sad Monkey!

I asked what I can make that doesn't take hours, but would be satisfying and tasty. I was told "Pot Roast." So today I head out to the grocery store for slabs of meat and bags of potatoes. I was also told to buy more fresh fish. My complaint about that: you have to use it THAT DAY. I am NOT going to the grocery store every day for fish, even though I'm on board the more fresh fish bandwagon.

So that's the current dilemma. At least I had a cure ready for last night's dinner faux pas. I took Lulu and the Helper Monkey to Dairy Queen. DQ fixes everything.

Birthday Cake Blizzards!

In other news, I finally finished the scarf made from the gifted yarn. I complained that I haven't been writing, and it was starting to get to me in a bad way. Once again, the Helper Monkey pointed out what should have been obvious. He watched me accept the gift of yarn, and only told me last night that he knew it would cause this problem. He knew I'd let everything else in the world fall by the wayside until I finished the yarn project. He's promised to warn me next time someone tries to give me something nice, so I can politely decline the gift in favor of keeping my sanity.

I have a little problem that once I start something, I MUST SEE THE ENTIRE PROJECT THROUGH!!! I have a hard time letting things go, and I'm limited in how much I can multitask. When something like a beautiful skein of yarn comes my way, I'm incapable of focusing on anything else until the project is done. Sort of like reading a new book. I can't write until I finish reading. It's like throwing a wrench into an engine.  I have to spend a whole day taking the engine apart and carefully putting it back together instead of just pulling the wrench out and starting it up again. If I start something, by goshen, I'm going to finish it.

The Scarf of Glorious Obsession. At least it's purty.

So with that inspiring philosophy, I've got errands to run this afternoon before I get back to writing tonight. And tomorrow, I get to go donate double red cells to the Red Cross. To anyone who needs A-negative blood this weekend, you're welcome.

One last thing before I go: I had a weird moment this morning when one of my sister's books, Sex Made Easy, was featured on the local news this morning! Yay!

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.

This Week versus Last Week

Last week was a real doozy.  The only day in my schedule book that wasn't blackened with "to do" items was Monday. And Monday was just Monday, so it was bad enough on its own without getting bogged down with anything else. Needless to say, my writing suffered last week.

Every time I sat down to write, I had to go back and try to remember what the hell I was writing about. Scatterbrained. Addlepated. I ended up wasting a lot of time going over the disjointed few pages I managed to hack out in a futile attempt to make them work. By the time I caught up and felt ready to dive in again, it was time to rush off somewhere else. I nearly cried several times. I did engage in a little primal scream therapy, with mixed results. It frightened the cat, which was good for a laugh, at least.

I also had the stupid idea, in the midst of the cuckoo schedule, to cut back on the amount of soda I was consuming. I was feeling mighty unhealthy about my diet, since I had several meals at the ball park (one of which consisted entirely of hot dog products), and I was coming to rely too heavily on my souvenir-sized drink servings. That, and I couldn't button the black shorts I wear to work at the games.

At first, I tried to go cold turkey from the caffeine. The first day, I couldn't remember why I had a headache, why I felt so damned tired, and why I was so fuzzy and unable to concentrate. After a few cups of coffee, when I started feeling better, I attributed my precipitous drop in IQ to caffeine withdrawal. It got easier to cut out the sodas if I dramatically increased my coffee and tea consumption. Problem solved. Though I'm not sure it's really any healthier to suck down coffee like it's going out of style, at least it's not full of sugar and calories like the Cokes and Dr. Pepper I was formerly addicted to.

So that was last week. This week, there are only two things in my schedule book so far. Thursday, we're going out to dinner, since my birthday is Friday. Going out to dinner on Mother's Day weekend is against the rules around here. At least my birthday doesn't fall on Mother's Day itself this year. That really sucks. So we're trying to find an Indian or Thai restaurant somewhere within twenty miles of our house that's worthy of Birthday Dinner status. Friday, my actual birthday, we have our final Girl Scout meeting of the year, and it's actually going to be a ton of fun. It's more of a party/fun time for the girls, at a local warehouse that's filled with moon bounce contraptions. And yes, the adults get to bounce, too. So I'm making the Helper Monkey come with us. Birthday privilege.

And I forgot to mention today's events (but since I have a Moleskine planner, which counts Monday as the first day of the week, today is still technically "last week." Now I've hurt my brain thinking about that.) I have to buy groceries, since we've eaten nearly every edible item in the house while I ran around last week. Lets put it this way: I had Cheerios for dinner THREE TIMES last week. Before we hit the grocery store, we're going to a scavenger hunt competition at a local mall. It should be fun. I'll probably get suckered into buying ice cream or a pretzel, but I won't complain.

The rest of the week will be devoted to a research project, and writing. Finally, blissfully writing.

On the up side, Lulu had her chorus concert last night. The thing ran more than THREE HOURS!!! It was a little excessive, if you ask me, but luckily they saved the most interesting, audience pleasing songs for the end. Choral music, in my mind, was not designed for interminable concerts. I'd rather have watched three Broadway shows back to back, but I had to be there. Not only was my kid singing (and she did a brilliant job, by the way), but I was on the Puke Crew. It sounds more disgusting than it was. If they had a medical emergency, I had to be ready to assist the sick child. I crossed my fingers that no one actually got sick, and apparently that worked. I got a front-row seat out of the deal, and had a primo viewing spot for the show.

Glad I snapped a picture of the ticket, because they confiscated them at the door! Yay, Electronic Scrapbook!

On the even upper side, Lulu has decided that next year she wants to take a musical theater class, instead of just a singing class. This bodes well for next year's end-of-year concert show, at least.

All this being said, what have I done with my free morning thus far? Ha! I slept until 9:30, had M&M's and coffee for breakfast, and caught up on bloggy things. Perfect Sunday morning (other than the fact I haven't even glanced at the WIP yet). Now I'm grabbing my pickaxe, and heading out to the word mines.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

I hope you didn't eat anything green today that shouldn't actually be green. For example, after a 5 hour Girl Scout cookie booth, I took my daughter to Burger King for dinner. They offered us GREEN KETCHUP!!! This is wrong, people. And truly gross. And real Irish beer is black, not green. Have a Guinness. Or a Jameson's whiskey. That's what I'm doing today.

I did, however, eat two cupcakes with green frosting. They were delicious.

I've also learned how to make a pyramid out of little foam craft bricks and hot glue. I told my daughter to tell her history teacher that we can't imagine how much hot glue it must have taken to make the big pyramids in Egypt. We still have one more day's work to do on the pyramid project. The clay palm trees are drying on the table, and we still have to print out a bunch of facts about Cleopatra to stick all over the pyramid. Fun, fun!

Pyramid

Drying palm trees

Lastly for today, I had a horrible dream last night. I woke up in a cold sweat. Literary agents had apparently lined up at my front door. They wanted to show up in person to see the look on my face when they rejected me, I guess. Either that, or they wanted to see what kind of idiot would ever submit such a thing to them in the first place. Or maybe they wanted me to watch them laugh in my face. It was a horrible dream. Agent after agent after agent. Stupid, huh?

Anyway, I just realized how late it is. All that construction work really took it out of me. And I burned my finger on the darn hot glue gun. I can really sympathize with the Ancient Egyptians now.

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.

The Icks

So I've spent the past day and a half with a case of the rampaging icks. Tim had it on Saturday, and passed it along to me so I wouldn't feel left out, I guess. I had the dizzies, I couldn't eat, and I could barely sit up. I squished down in the Comfy Chair and did my best to reread/edit, but I didn't get anywhere until about 9 pm last night. I finally started to feel better, but of course by then I had to get some sleep or I'd be sick again today. I finally packed it in around 10:45 and eventually did get some rest.

I spent a good portion of the day watching TV. I have no idea what I watched, other than the movie Local Hero, which was on yesterday morning. I have no idea what was on the rest of the day, since I could barely hold my head up to watch. But I do love Local Hero. If you like Scotland at all, it's a beautiful movie with a lot of oddball characters. And an injured rabbit, as well.

Tim made me tea, which at least gave me enough caffeine to focus on reading, but it didn't do much for my stomach. Hopefully today will be better. There's nothing on the TV right now, so at least I'm not distracted, other than by the Pretty Internets.

Anyway, I suppose I should get back to work. I've only got about 50 more pages to read today, and then format the book for the kindle so Tim can read it. Yay!

I'm kind of hoping to get a nap at some point today, but I doubt it'll happen. And we didn't deliver a single box of cookies all weekend, which means they're all still down in my office calling my name. SHUT UP YOU SUGARY DELIGHTS!!!

On another food note, the cat is still a pastrami addict. I actually ran over him this morning because I didn't realize he was wrapped around my ankles while I made Lulu's lunch. Poor thing. He's going to give himself a kitty coronary if he keeps eating like that. Not because he actually got any pastrami, but because I scared the crap out of him when I moved my feet, and he skittered and scampered out of the kitchen like he was on fire.

I've been trying to cobble together the synopsis on this read-through, taking notes as I go along. That's probably my LEAST favorite part of writing a novel. It reminds me of having to do book reports when I was in elementary school, only worse. At least a book report wanted you to leave the ending out, enticing the reader to read the book for himself. Not so in a synopsis. They also want all major plot twists and turns, and they want it in 2-5 pages (sometimes even less!). HEY! THAT'S WHY I WROTE A 300 PAGE BOOK!!! It took 300 pages to describe all those plot twists so they made sense, but a synopsis doesn't have to make sense, really. It just has to show the main characters going through the story.

You have to leave out minor characters, the HOW, and often the WHY. It makes for really crappy reading, but it serves its purpose: showing what happens throughout the book in just a few pages. You don't go into any kind of detail, but throw in just enough for the synopsis to sound like a coherent plot. IT IS HARD!

So there you go, my synopsis complaint. Anyone out there actually like to write synopses? I'd like to hear about it.

And that's all for today. Or at least for now.

Words: 98,294
Pages: 314
Edit Reread Page: 251