Harem on Wheels

My youngest is eight years old. Eight. How the heck did that happen? (Note: Come back to this in June when I’m having a crisis over the oldest turning 13.)

So Son #3’s birthday was actually last week, but the party was postponed due to Influenza A and B rearing their ugly heads at our house. But today was the party at the local roller rink. He’d invited five of his best friends. Now being a boy, you’d think the names listed here would be Trevor and Nate or something like that. Oh no. Not my boy. Instead, he invited Anna, Jessica, Cassandra, Haylee and Emily. That’s right. All girls. He’s always had more girl friends than boys since kindergarten. I always say it’s because he’s surrounded by testosterone at home. Honestly, though, I think he’s either a serious lady’s man or will be starring in a production of La Cage aux Folles coming soon to a theater near you.  Whichever.

But today he was leaning toward lady’s man - or ladies plural. The girls would flank him, all holding hands as they skated around the rink. They competed for his attention, only one striking out on her own to actually do something other than fawn over my kid. The husband and I just watched in amazement. The child, for his part, just soaked it up. He spent equal time with each of his ladies, making sure everyone had their fair share. He was like a little maharaja with his harem.

Now I’m maybe making this sound worse than it was. For the most part, he treated each of his guests with courtesy and was very polite. Maybe that’s why he has eight-year-old girls swarming him, since he’s not the rough and tumble type. Apparently this same group plays together at recess at school. One mom said my son was just like one of the girls, but there’s an obvious difference in how they treat him as opposed to how they treat eachother. Not sure he understands that yet. Girls mature so much faster than boys and at eight they are definitely starting to think of the opposite sex differently. My son, though, not yet. I hope. But man, am I scared.

Check back with me in five years. The guest list will doubltess change, but I wonder if the gener ratio will remain. Only by then, he’ll have figured it out.

Guys and Dogs - Progress Report

Well, I just finished the first edit on what I had written in November on GUYS AND DOGS. The last few chapters were pretty fun to read, considering they were riddled with gems such as this:

“Well you said if I have friends over near dinnertime I should ask them to stay. Aren’t you going to ask him if he wants to stay?”

It was a bad idea. She was trying to get rid of Travis. No, not get rid of him really. Because then my plot would be done and Anna would be this old spinster chick. That would be bad. And Lani would shoot be because she likes Travis and wants Bill dead. And if I weren’t desperate for words and if these kids would just shut up and let me concentrate…

Sorry - where was I?

Yeah. That was a fun read. Unfortunately, all my extraneous comments had to go. I added a few new scenes, as well, which has made my length close to the 300 pages I normally shoot for. It also made me relax about certain plot points happening in the right place in the book. The last few chapters I have still stink on ice, but that’s why God invented the edit.

So now I get to finish it. Which means I need to take a few beats and make sure I know what I want to happen next. After it’s done, I plan to let it sit for a month or so, do another edit, and then the fun part comes: writing the synopsis and query letter to send out and submit. That’s more fun than a tax audit. NOT!

But after a slump of a few years, I’m just thrilled to be back to writing. Hey, maybe I’ll even post a chapter on the website. Who knows? I’m feeling a little crazy!

Is This Month Over Yet?

I don’t believe in curses. Well, okay, there’s the birthday curse, and Valentines Day has never been all that good for me, but now that one seems to be spreading to all of February.

To be honest, I think I cursed myself. The words, “My kids have been really healthy this year,” passed through my lips last Thursday. That’s the night Son #3 came home with a fever. By the next morning, it was 103 degrees and I just knew he had the flu. Not only did he end up having influenza, he had both strains - A and B. Doc said it was the first case she’d ever seen.

We’re all on Taimflu, which is working miracles, by the way. Still, I have it, and Son #2 came down with it yesterday. All in all, though, I have to say it’s not bad. I’ve had colds worse than this. That Taiflu is keeping the husband and Son #1 from getting it so dar, and my case is really mild. Son #3 is feeling fine, and Son #2 is just running a low temp. We’ve got it made in the shade, right? Ummm… no. Because whether we’re on Tamiflu or not, I have to keep them home for a certain period of time. Which means Son #3 (also known around here as the instigator) can’t go to school again until tomorrow. He’s been fever-free for two days now, but stuck at home. Bored.  Son #2 can’t go back until he’s broken his temp for 24 hours, so that means he has to be home tomorrow, at least. How much work am I missing?

It also means time doing stuff like writing is shot to heck. Either I’m shuttling around peanut butter toast and Gatorade, or I’m wiped out from shuttling peanut butter toast and Gatorade.  That seems to be my biggest symptom of the flu so far - tired as heck. Of course, that could be the guilt of missing work Monday and Tuesday, then taking off Friday for Son #1’s basketball tournament. Assuming he’s healthy enough.

So I’m on a crunch. The plan was to finish Guys and Dogs before March 1, at which time a few of us have decided to do a NaNo-like sprint to write our next books. But, as you may already have figured out, I have a massive guilt complex, and if G&D isn’t done, it’s going to nag at me all March.

Gee, do you think I could whine any more? No? Then you don’t know me very well.

Off to call the school! They will be so thrilled.

How Long has it Been?

January has been crazy - thank God it’s almost over. Lots of work at work, lots of kid stuff going on, and then I manged to throw my neck out of whack and woke up Friday morning feeling like I’d been shot in the head I had such a bad migraine.

However, a couple good things did happen this month. Son #3 won the Rocket Derby at Cub Scouts, which was a very exciting end to a long day for me (since I was having to organize he heats, sign in the cars, etc, I was there two hours before the kids were).  He was thrilled, and big brother, whose car really didn’t go anywhere, was only semi-disappointed. Of course, he’s discovered the joys of having friends over, so we’ve been entertaining every weekend for the last three weeks. I think Mom needs a break next weekend.

We’ve been having an awful cold snap here, dipping down to -26 degrees the other morning. That’s not windchill, by the way. We’re getting a couple days’ reprieve, then  it looks like we’re back at it. Brrr. The good news about the bad weather is it gives me motivation to stay inside and work on GUYS AND DOGS. I’ve re-written and added to chapters 1-5, and hope to get the rest done by March 1. Why, you ask? Because I got an even better idea.

I was in the shower one morning - my muse’s favorite place to pop up - and was struggling to get the water temp just right. “Why can’t I get a happy medium?” I thought, and it struck me. An entire plot outline just popped into my head. And what’s better is the tension and conflict are built in! Amazing. So come March 1, a few friends and I are going to do a NaNo-like sprint and write new (or existing) books. So I have to have GUYS AND DOGS pretty well finnished by then, so I can write HAPPY MEDIUM without having it hanging over my head. If I can pull this off, this would mean I’ve written two books in one year, whereas the last book (which I abandoned in the middle) took me two years to write. I like the reversal of the numbers better.

And propelling me further into a productive February is that Dr. Who and Torchwood are back. Yes, still addicted to BBC America. But hey, David Tennant and John Barrowman just might find their way into a book soon. Talk about inspiration!

The Fruits of My Labors

As those of you who frequent this blog know, I spent the bulk of this summer rebuilding my basement from a flood. The last room to finish is the bathroom. I still have one side of it to do - installing the vanity and putting in the floor. However, I spent hours and hours working on the shower. I tiled it myself, and used the big 8 x 10 tiles and accent tile and everything. It was my first attempt at tiling, and, if I do say so myself, it came out very well.

However, for a while, I was hesitant to actually use the shower. I didn’t trust my own tiling work and basic plumbing. It was bound to leak. Well, I am pleased to say that I am writing this entry with damp hair and that just-out-of-a-hot-shower relaxation from a pleasant 15 minutes in my basement shower. The shower I built, if you can believe it. Sometimes I can’t.

I have to say, though, that there is nothing compare to the feeling I have right now. I had a wonderful, relaxing, soothing shower, and it was even better as I looked around me and could remember the time spent laying every tile, grouting the seams, and sealing it all up. The caulk was smoothed by my own fingers. I did this!

Yes, I’m probably more excited about that than I should be, but to forge ahead and do the work myself was a giant leap of faith for me. And I did it! It works!

Yeah, it’s just a shower, but that giant leap of faith inspires me to take more. I’m debating going to National Conference in San Francisco this summer, mostly because it costs a small fortune. How can I justify that expense? I think that will be another giant leap of faith - faith in me and faith in my work.

After all, if the shower feels fantastic, imagine what I’ll feel like when I can hold my own book in my hands.

Is It Over Yet?

So this whole holiday thing is behind me, right? I can breathe now? Get my life back? Yeah? Okay, just checking.

Yes, it was a hectic season. We drove out to see the folks in Wyoming, and weather fought us both coming and going. Black ice, sheet ice, icy ice - you name it, we drove on it. About two hours into our drive, we were attacked by suicidal birds. No, I’m not kidding. Normally if you drive through a flock of birds, they fly away from your vehicle. Not this batch. They flew into us! Thought the little suckers might take out the windshield. By the time we were through them, I’d taken out three and we were still intact. Score one on my mass-murderer rating.  Several hours later I took out a jack rabbit in Wyoming. I was then a mass murderer in two states. Just call me Charles Starkweather. Not a good omen for the start of our “vacation.”

(Just a note here: on our way home a week later, that same stretch of road where I took out the rabbit was littered with poor little bunny carcasses. Apparently I was not the only one thumping Thumper that week. We actually started making jokes about Bit-O-Bunny. Remember Bit-O-Honey candy? This is distinctly bloodier.)

So yeah, not a pleasant start to the week. Then there was the whole plumbing issue on Christmas Day. I won’t go into detail, but it involved my father and me shop vacuuming water out of the basement hallway on Christmas night, and seven people in one house with no bathroom for twelve hours. It wasn’t pretty.

At any rate, we’re home at last and life has to return to normal somehow. And normal for this spring means writing my buns off. I’m planning to go to RWA National Convention in San Francisco in July. To justify spending the eight gazillion dollars that requires, I need to finish GUYS AND DOGS and get it ready to pitch. So I need to get the Bit-O-Bunny out of my head, move past the twelve hour plumbing standoff, and get off - no, on - my rear and write.

Wish me luck!

Merry Christmas? Just not to you.

Oh, the embarrassment. I am the worst parent EVER.

Of course, I know this is not true, but the stunt I pulled this year on son #1’s teachers was not good, and just proves how much my brain has turned to Swiss cheese.

When sending gifts, I forgot a teacher.

Son #1 is in a Life Skills classroom with one teacher and, I thought, one aide, whom he talks about all the time. I sent two gifts. Then I get a note this morning that there are TWO aides.

Can the earth swallow me whole now? How terrible for her! To be forgotten! Or not even known about! That’s something you can’t take back, either. I am going to forever be known as the woman who forgot Mrs. G. I’ve been blushing all morning and just want to hide under a rock.

This time of year, especially, I want to let everyone know how I appreciate what they do, even if just in little ways. This is a big oopsie for me, especially since I know how hard the teachers and aides work for my kids. I’ve been a teacher, and I know it’s a thankless job. So to omit her is just awful!

Now some of you are thinking why didn’t the boy just tell me he had another teacher. Well, he’s getting more talkative, but his main difficulty is still communication. I guess when he went to give out the gifts this morning in class, he said, “What about Mrs. G?” Would have been nice if he’d have been able to do that before he left the house. But instead, I get to feel like the floor of a taxi cab.

What a loser I am, huh?

I Normally Don’t Talk Politics, But…

Does it scare anyone else that this guy has gotten to be number 2 in the Republican primary polls? Yikes! Our number one choice screwed around on his wife and his kids are hardly speaking to him. Talk about being candidateless. None of the dems thrill me, either. In fact, most of them on both sides kinda scare the hell out of me.

The most accurate way to describe the upcoming election? Totally screwed in ‘08.

Just my two cents.

Holy Crap

And when I say crap, I mean crap. But I won, even though the book is pretty much unsalvageable.

Whoo!

So Close

I normally finish up NaNo way sooner than this, but considering computer problems, redecorating my house, and having three kids, I think it may be amazing that I write anything. Almost there. Just about 3,000 more crappy words to go.