Cute kid stories

My kids are grown. Yes, I'm old enough to have grandkids (But only because my children got started early)--I've talked about them before.

Anyway, the older son recently called to tell me some cute grandboy stories. The oldest is eight, will be nine in July. He was walking with his dad in some large mega-box store, and it was crowded, so Dad said "Hey, give me your hand. We need to hold hands."

And the boy said "Oh Dad, that's so embarrassing." At eight. Broke his Daddy's heart. They grow up so fast. Of course, Dad made him hold hands anyway.

His little brother, our youngest grandchild, just turned six. He's been dying to be a Cub Scout since he was three, when his big brother joined up, and will finally get to be a Tiger Cub in the fall when he starts first grade. (We come from a Boy Scout family--the fella is an Eagle Scout, as are our two sons.) And since Mom is a Den Leader, the little guy has been going to all his big brother's meetings, pretty much since the beginning.

So at the most recent Bear Cub den meeting (3rd grade Cub Scouts), a new boy came. After the meeting, the new kid started beating up one of the other little brothers. The littlest grandboy pulled him off and pushed him back and said, "Do you want to be a Cub Scout?"

The new kid said "Yeah."

And my Guy said "Then act like one."

Just warmed the cockles of my heart. He's such a good kid.

Oh, and the middle grandboy--the daughter's son. He's the one with autism. Anyway, Mom's taking him on one of her conference trips so he can go stay with his other grandparents in Colorado, since her conference is in Denver.

She was telling him they were going to go on an airplane to see Grammy and Grandpa. He comes back with "Go see Gigi and Granddaddy" (what the little boys call us). They go back and forth a couple of times about which grandparents they were going to go see, and she finally asks him, "WHY do you want to go see Gigi and Granddaddy?"

He comes back with "Go to the Beach."

Beach trumps mountains for a kid who lives where it snows, I guess. Apparently not because he wants to see US. ;)

Ah well. I enjoy cute kid stories. I have a number saved up from when my kids were little, to tell the grandkids and embarrass their parents one of these days. You got any to share?

Another Travelogue

I did have an idea for something to write in this blog last night...and of course, now that it's morning, I've forgotten every idea I ever had. Sigh.

Maybe if I put on my computer glasses... Yes, I have a separate pair just for working at the computer. Trifocals would just divide up my bad vision that much more...

Nope. Doesn't help. So you will get another travelogue, because I am now home from San Francisco, fixing to head out again (Yes. FIXING TO. I am a Texan. Deal with it.)

So. We ate our way across San Francisco and Sausalito. Went with a group of fellow Galvestonians to Muir Woods to see the redwoods. Wow. If I knew where the camera was, I would download pictures and post them. But it's in the fella's briefcase, and that sucker has so many compartments and booby traps, I'm afraid to go hunting for it. (The camera, not the briefcase. Though I'm not sure where that is either.)

We went on a small bus, because the large ones won't fit on the road that goes down into the canyon where Muir Woods National Monument is. The only road I've been on that compares, in terms of twisty hairpin curves and vertical drops was in Norway. Even Independence Pass, across the Continental Divide in Colorado, does not compare. And our bus driver drove like a bat out of Hades. And we were in the very back seats on the bus, thumping up and down and swaying and almost flying out of our seats with every curve and pothole. It was rather like a rollercoaster. Only without safety bars. Though on the way down, I was wedged in pretty tight--the seats barely had room for my knees...

But the trees were amazing. And the creek was picturesque. We even saw a 10-point black-tailed buck. Cool.

We ate fish & chips in Sausalito for lunch. We rode the ferry across the bay and watched some stunt pilots in the air show. There were so many pleasure boats out on the water (both sail & motor) I'd swear you could walk from Fisherman's Wharf to Alcatraz stepping from one boat to another. There was probably more room than that between them, but it looked that close. We went looking for a balcony to watch the rest of the air show (It was Fleet Week, and the Blue Angels were supposed to perform.) and wound up eating again. I had ice cream. With very delicious chocolate sauce, and whipped cream.

Then we walked further down Fisherman's Wharf to find another "better" view of the Blue Angels--except they called off the show on account of fog and wind. Oh well. So we went and sat outside a pub where they were watching the Texas-Colorado game inside. These were mostly Colo. fans. (Oh well.) And I was freezing. I pretty much froze the entire time I was in San Francisco. Except when I was inside the MoMA and had to take off my jacket. The rest of the time, I was cold.

Eventually, we worked our way back to the hotel. And went out for Chinese food for supper. We were going to go to the Irish Pub down the street first, but they were so slammed, we never got waited on. (And I wanted to have a cider. Darn.) So we left. And that was our eating adventure.

When I got hungry the next day, I wasn't sure if I was really hungry, or just so used to being stuffed to the gills, it felt strange when I wasn't...

I have thought nothing about writing. I have done my morning pages. Except for today. Drat. Better go do that. I had the notebook out, but... I'm being very bad.

Still have a few more things to do before I can leave to check on parents. Like buy gas for the vehicle. I'll get there. I think I'm going to have to start going up to go to all doctor appointments with them. I wonder if I can get Daddy on that Alzheimer's medicine. I'm not sure that's what Mama has, but I think that's my Daddy's problem. We'll talk about it.

Grandboy visits

The daughter and her boy came to visit. For two weeks. It was wonderful. :)

They came to see us, and to let his dad get some work done on his dissertation so he could get it finished. So I didn't get a whole lot of writing done while they were here. Partly because the first week they were here, my parents, sisters, brother, spouses, some nephews and a niece came to visit, and stayed in a beach house out on the west end of the island. We had to visit them as much as we could.

One of the nephews was just back from a Navy tour in Bahrain. He and the son went out one night. When the son came back the next day, he informed us, "I am never going drinking with a sailor again. Ever." Oh well. Oh, and the day all of those relatives left, a nephew from the other side of the family--one of the fella's brother's boys--came to visit for 4 or 5 days. That was fun too. But again, didn't get a lot of writing done. Did get a lot of swimming done. (Yay!)

The grandboy is six now. He likes to take pictures with his mom's camera. With my camera too, but he took a picture of his nose with Mom's. This is the boy with autism, and allergies to all dairy, as well as gluten. (The dairy is related to his autism, the gluten is related to his granddaddy.)

He had a few adventures with Dolly the granddog. She's a pretty frisky, playful dog--she's about 3 years old, and still has lots of energy, especially when meeting new people. Which scared the little guy. But it was too hot to be playful for very long, and she quickly learned that if she moved--if she even looked at him, he would run away. So she would just lie there in the shade and let him come to her.

Within a day or two, he approached her. Then he touched her feet. Then he patted her back. The next thing we knew, he had hold of her tail, had the white part in his mouth, biting it. (Don't think he actually bit down, but...) It was rather traumatic getting him to calm down enough to listen to Granddaddy and understand "Don't bite Dolly." By the end of the visit, he was pulling up her lips trying to put dogfood in her mouth, and she would just turn her head and walk away. This picture of Dolly is about a year and a half old. She's filled out quite a bit, looking very "pit bull." It really is all in how they're raised...

So, yeah. It's been pretty crazy. But a lot of fun. :)

And I am writing. Really!

Wow--love this review!

I try to avoid reviews, because if they're bad, they just aggravate the snot out of me, and if they're good... Well, it's hard to know if they're going to be good or not. But this one--

I am honestly in awe. I not only love what this blogger said, I love how she said it. I never knew that was what I wrote--but I guess I did. I remember doing it. Anyway, go forth and read it if you are so inclined. It's at Tempting Persephone.

(Yeah, I'm on leave from the p-t dayjob to write the book. Got 8 pages today. Will be at the grindstone--er, desk--to write more tomorrow.)

Oh, and the picture--it's blurry because the gyroscope was moving, under the muscle power of my darling daughter who got to try it for the first time because grandparents were at the museum to chase the doodlebug (aka the middle grandboy) instead of her. I missed the "when she was upside down" shot. Oh well.

I DID take pictures

Yes, I really did take pictures. When I was in Washington, I went to the National Zoo, and took a picture of the panda. See? It was sleeping, but the camera did a really good job of zooming in on it. :)

I have other pictures, but I think if I insert them without taking up some of the space with text before I put the next picture in, they will try to overlap or something. So I shall blather on about nothing--or whatever I can think of--until I can put up another picture.

I am now on my hiatus from the dayjob to work on the book. Am I writing? Well, not RIGHT this second. I'm putting stuff in the blog. But I did work on it this morning. I got all my cover pictures up at the website. I'm not sure when I'll be posting my excerpt--probably in October--but that's not too far off. And I always post it to the newsletter folks first, so you know, if you want to read the excerpt, make sure you're signed up for the newsletter.

Now for picture #2. My older son and his boys were here when I got home from D.C. and stayed for a week. They went out in the gulf to fish, and caught angelfish. I think I told you, but here's the proof--the Big Guy with his angelfish. They're striped when you eat them too, and they're darn good eating.

The guys have been doing a lot of fishing lately. Earlier--at spring break, I think--they went out on a long boat trip and caught a bunch of vermilion snapper. The fella caught a HUGE red snapper, but had to throw it back because it was too big. Or maybe too small. I don't remember. I do remember he had to throw it back. but not after he got a picture of it!

So there. I have shared pictures of the guys and their fish. (The oldest grandboy has a few speech issues--he has trouble with soft consonants, so "sh" tends to come out as "tch" and "f" tends to come out as a "p" or "b". So he was in WalMart with his dad one day, in the pet section, and asked Dad to buy him a fish--except it came out with a 'b' at the front and a 'tch' at the end...)

Enough about fishing, and enough about the guys, right? You want to see a picture of ME, right? Even though they're prettier than me...

So--I made this picture big, because it's a pretty impressive fish--if you're the type to be impressed by fish, which means I need to fill up more space. I also need to put my travel receipts into the accounting program. :P But it needs to be done. I have this bad tendency to save them up for 3 or 4 months and then do them all at once, digging them out from the wire basket on my desk, or the depths of the side pocket on my purse... I should do them right away, I know, but...

And I did have one last picture I wanted to share with you. I don't look so hot in it, but my friend Rosemary is the star of the picture, because look at the pretty statue she's holding. Yes, Rosemary Clement-Moore won the RITA award for Best Young Adult Novel at the RWA National Conference awards ceremony. She even let me rub RITA's head for luck. I think she hand-carried her home to Dallas, for fear her feather pen would break off.

I have more pictures, and now that I am home for a while, I'll try to get some of them posted with the blog, instead of a huge bunch with no art at all, then one blog with a bunch of pictures. I'll space them out. I hope. If I remember to do it. You know how my memory is...

Anniversarius

Again, a quiet weekend. The fella and I had an anniversary Friday--number 33--and he sent me a gorgeous huge orchid plant with many red-speckled yellow flowers blooming on it. HUGE plant. Good thing, because for dinner, we went to the college pot-luck awards ceremony. I did get the promise to go out again the next night.

Saturday, I decided I really needed to write at least a LITTLE, so I sat down for an hour and got 2.5 pages done. Happiness! Then we went out and ran errands. Like getting a birthday present for Idbit (AKA the littlest grandboy)--whose birthday was Saturday, and we had thought about his birthday and a present the week before, and promptly forgot about it until the day before his birthday. (sigh) Typical. We'll hand deliver it.

I tried out office chairs at Office Depot -- the paper is getting me a new one--and then we went across the causeway and got some frames for the two antique map reproductions the fella bought. That took a little time. Also found a frame (finally) for my sunflower-sand dune painting. Then we came home, took naps and went out to dinner at Landry's for our "official" anniversary date. I really love their shrimp Fresca... Then we came home to watch "The Perfect Man" romantic comedy movie and discovered that the orchid I got was actually the perfect romantic occasion gift. Roses are great, but orchids... they're the best. So it's official. I received the perfect romantic anniversary gift. :)

I like orchids a lot. Have one on the back patio that survived the hurricane and the winter... I hope I can keep this one alive too. :)

The writing continues to go. Sometimes I'm not sure where it's going, but at least it's going...

On Writing, Blogging, and Editorializing

Now that I've written the title to this blog post, I'm not sure what I wanted to say about those topics. Let's begin with this one: editorializing.

See, my dayjob is at a newspaper. I've always been a newspaper reader, even before I got to college and majored in journalism. I tend to read stuff in them, and then--many times--want to argue with the things I read. Which is kind of a lot what bloggers do. But see, being on staff at the paper, I can't write letters to the editor. However, I CAN write columns. (They're not actually editorials, since I'm not an editor, but merely a lowly editorial assistant.) So, I wrote one this week. About reading books--recommending that if people want to escape from reality a little while, movies are fine, but books last longer and have a lower cost-per-escape-time ratio. They're trying to muscle me into writing a column more often--but I don't know if I can stand once a week. I've done that, and sometimes I wrote some really drivel-y drivel. It may be "occasional." Like whenever I think of something I want to write about.

Blogs are sort of like editorials for everyman. Letters to the universe, instead of the editor. Sometimes they're read by millions--or thousands. Sometimes, they're read by friends and family only. Hopefully the readership of this blog runs into the dozens. :)

Blogs are like editorials that people can write instant rebuttals to in the comments. The technology makes it easy for flame wars to get going, because people can just pop off. And there are no editors to clean up their grammar and turn their gibberish into logical sentences. (I've cleaned up a LOT of letters. What people mail/e-mail in looks a lot like some of the blog comments. Only less coherent, some of them.)

Let's see--so I've blogged about editorializing. And blogging. So. Writing. Peh. (It's like Meh, except more puffy, with a P.)

I've been making fair progress on the writing, since my realization of what the opening scene should be. Even though I have been smacked in the head with another story that has insisted on being written. I write the contracted book during regular writing-work hours, and have been writing the other one during the hours I would ordinarily be reading or watching television. (My current Netflix movies have been waiting for 2 weeks for me to watch them.) So I'm not taking away from the Official Book. It's actually been working pretty well. This other one--I'm not even sure it IS a book. It might be. So I'll see where it goes for a while. Even though I feel guilty, I'm doing okay on The Book.

Well, except for today. Today was a bust. First, I took the granddog to the beach for a walk, and even let her off the leash. She ran and chased the birds into the surf, and ran and ran, and did Not run off across the jetty, or bother the 2 people on the beach, and when she got tired, she came back and let me put the leash back on her. And because she chased the birds (seagulls and willets) into the surf, she got all salty and sandy. So I gave her a bath when we got home. (Mostly because she was stinky to start with.)

Except Dolly didn't want a bath. She so didn't want a bath, that she pulled out of her collar (which she didn't do on the walk). I had to pick up wet, salty, sandy, stinky dog and Carry her to the hose/shampoo. She is not a particularly large dog. But she ain't no toy poodle either...

She got her bath, though. Then I went inside and took one. Between the walk, the dog bath, my bath, the laundry, and all the other sundry things I had to do, it was getting late, I was feeling cranky, so I didn't write today. There. I confessed. Sometimes I skip a day writing, even when I'm on deadline. I am hoping this will help ... clear my palate. Or something. I think I'm about to run down with this side-writing thing. Right now, it's feeling very Mary Sue-ish, so if I can't fix that, it may not turn into a book. And I have A Book to write.

One I am liking, actually. I like how it's going. I need to go back and tweak some of the early stuff so it doesn't erase the conflict, but I think I know now how to do that now. Harry needs to shut up. He's a talky kind of guy, (Some guys are--my oldest grandson is getting in trouble at school for the exact reason his dad used to--talking too much... ) and he believes in laying his cards on the table--but he doesn't need to lay out quite so many of them. And he needs to be just a tad more aggressive.

Speaking of grandsons--they didn't get to come last weekend. Just their dad. So all my boys--the fella and the two sons--had a boys' day out and went Gulf fishing for the day on Friday. They caught two meals worth of vermilion snapper, which is not the same as red snapper, which is not in season. I'll post a picture of the fella's ginormous red snapper he caught. The youngest caught a 28-inch amberjack he had to throw back, because amberjacks have to be 32 inches to keep them. But the snapper was excellent. They invited me, but...

So. There you have it. Opinion, and news. What more do you need?

Right between the Eyes

Yep, just got smacked. Another year got me.

It has been CRAZY chez moi. A day or two after Dolly's mega-adventure, her boy came home from college evac. He'll be back in school on the local campus in the next week or so. A few days after that, he went with me to fetch the parents, since I was NOT letting them drive through Houston. We got to see my baby sister for a little visit, and some nieces and nephews, and then we were off, zipping back through the heinous Houston traffic. (I took the tollway, since I didn't want to deal with downtown traffic, even during off hours.) And the parental units finally agreed that they really didn't want to drive through Houston. The traffic was scary and the signs and exits were confusing. Given that Daddy got lost inside my house (!), I think it was the best decision. He has spatial issues and motivational issues. Mama just can't hang onto events. She couldn't remember whether she'd made arrangements to have her chairs recovered. (I went with her to do it, so I know it happened.) That sort of thing. (I figure the writing is on my wall, so I plan to enjoy my next 20 years or so...)(A LOT.)

It was good to have them down for a visit, though. The older son came in Christmas evening with his boys and we had Christmas all over again. The grandkids made out like bandits--which is as it should be. The boys had an all-night movie-watching marathon, which got postponed because the electricity went out for about 4 hours. (We had a cold supper that night.) We played our new games and laughed like loons--one of the games we got required writing down things that belonged in sets, like "Things a lady should not do" or "Things you should not say to your mother," then guessing who wrote what. We had to repeat the things numerous times because Mama had trouble remembering what they were, so we got to doing them in a sort of shorthand. And of course, we decided that "Fart" could be a "thing" on most of the lists--and of course, boys being boys, "Fart" was the answer they gave a great deal of the time. And I got my tang all toungled repeating the answers so many times, and came out with "spart and fit" instead of what it was supposed to be, and made everyone laugh so hard I thought I might fall out of my chair.

You had to be there, I guess...

The little guys had to go home Monday morning, so I took the great grandparents home Monday afternoon. We had such a good visit. And then Tuesday, after I worked really hard on the writing and got lots of good stuff done, I went to the dayjob, and fell apart. The crud hit me so fast and hard, I was falling asleep over the computer, so I took my sore throat and icky feeling home and went to bed. I'm still coughing like I could lose a lung, but the ickiness is gone. The main problem was that the ick hit the brain.

I tried to write...one other day that week. Thursday--New Year's Day, maybe. And the writing was good, but I had an inspiration during the writing for how the blackness of the moment would resolve itself...and when I finished the writing, I couldn't remember what my inspiration was to make myself a note. Usually, I can remember, or at least reconstruct, but it was just gone. So I resorted to typing in/revisions for the next several days.

Today, I let myself get back to the writing, and it's coming nicely. I like what I got today. It flows--and the braindead writing worked too, believe it or not. I have 3.5 more weeks to get this finished, typed and completely revised. Wish me luck. I'm going to make it. Without too much panicking involved...

The next book, however...

Happy New Year to all y'all.

I'll try to post again this week, maybe about goals...

Lights, tunnels and trains

One party down, two to go. Then things may actually slow down up to Christmas. Maybe. Last night was my local RWA chapter party. Good eats, good company, good fun. I even came home with a new handkerchief and a silver-plated Christmas ornament. A pretty one. We're having Christmas caroling at our house tonight. Tomorrow night is the Lion's Club party. That requires another White Elephant gift. Since it's the fella who's a Lion and not me, I have placed him in charge of the elephant.

Today, I drafted the boy (okay, I bribed him with lunch out at Shrimp n' Stuff--I had the 10-shrimp lunch special, and got Twelve shrimps!! Bonus!) to help me cart four boxes down to UPS to get Christmas presents shipped off to various Texas locations plus Pennsylvania. So that's done. The fella wrapped presents and boxed them to ship while I went to the party. He's a good guy like that. Then he cleaned up all the wrapping paper. What a guy! I did have to vacuum and clean bathrooms, but he picked everything up. We are now ready for the party tonight. I even made copies of the words to Christmas carols, so hopefully people will sing. I know at least one other person will sing, so I think we're good.

I need to call the parental units to see what their schedule is and when they might be able to visit, but other than that--and figuring out what to get the man who buys for himself everything he wants--I think we're done till the holiday arrives. The grandboys will come on Christmas day, so That's when things will get busy again. I'm at the edge of the tunnel, if not out into the sunlight...

Which brings us to the writing tunnel. I can see the light. The end is there--and I write and write, and it doesn't seem to get any closer! Days like today do not help, when I write for a couple of hours and realize that the pages don't take me where I need to go. I can use some of the stuff I wrote, but there are too many people present in the scene. I know what's wrong and how to fix that part, but I'm not sure how to set up the scene I need to write instead. Ugh. But I don't have to bake anything or clean anything or shop for anything or mail anything (hmm--may have to mail--we'll see) the rest of the week, so maybe I can figure it out and Get It Written.

I am coming up with some ideas for the next book, which is helpful, since it's due in September. But dang, I got to get this one finished! Wish me luck.

High and dry

I tried to post another blog the other day, but the electricity blinked out for a few seconds at the parents' house, and I never did get back to it.

So. The word is Very Good about our house. We did not get any water inside, not even in the garage, that we could tell. So my baby sister's car is fine. We can't get it out, but it's fine. See, we only have a key to the front door of this rent house. The front door is a double door that had to be barricaded against getting blown in by a 2x4 bolted down to the door frame. (The bolts are permanently installed.) So we can't get in the front door. And with the power off, we can't open the garage door. We now have a generator (imported from Kansas, because apparently you can't buy a generator in Texas for love nor money), but haven't been able to get across the causeway to do anything about it. One of the trees got a little torn up. There are some shingles missing from the ridgeline. That's about it, for our house. But the island is in such bad shape, there's no point in going down yet. (Besides the fact that they won't let us come.)

The sister on the cruise--the cruise ship docked in New Orleans. They rented cars and drove to Austin to put the kids on a plane so they could go back to work.

Our church had essentially no damage. The only one on the island in that kind of shape, I am told. Friends who rode out the storm on their boat came through okay, though the boat was damaged. Another friend, who lives on the mainland where they said just to hunker down, had two big trees fall on their house and they had to evacuate their house in the middle of the night when the winds were blowing hard. But they're okay and their pets are too.

They are going to start classes for A&M Galveston on the main A&M campus next week. I've got a temporary berth for the boy to stay, until he can find something else, or until they move back to Pelican Island. They're talking about being back on their own campus by the end of October.

I've gone up to stay with the in-laws for a while. I like to see the fella face to face at least once a week. He did go down to check things out yesterday (which is where the house report came from), and Galveston College is in great shape too. The storm broke 5 plate glass windows. Two in a hallway, one in a faculty member's office, and two in classrooms with little besides desks in them. Their buses didn't even get messed up.

It's going to cost a fortune to get everything put back together. Hopefully, not too much in terms of time.

I'm trying to get some writing done, and have actually been doing pretty good at that. Ten plus pages to the good this week.

Y'all take care.

Hurricane Ike

So, now we're waiting to see whether Ike wants to come to Texas. He's tracking our direction, so far. If he comes ashore at Corpus Christi or south, I might not have to leave, depending on how strong a storm he is at that point. If he comes ashore in Texas anywhere north of there, the fella's probably going to make me leave town (again, depending on how big a storm it is--anything Category 3 or up, I'm gone). I'll take the new car and my computer and all my manuscripts, and go stay with the parents. We'll know by Wednesday morning.

Oh, and it's my birthday today, but we didn't do anything. I think I'm going to hold out for dinner at Gaido's after Ike passes. Probably won't get it, but I might get lucky. We'll see.

Got 3 whole pages written today. It has been a really hard grind. But at least I got Something. Maybe tomorrow will be better. And maybe I can still get stuff written, even if I have to bug out. It's really hard to write at Mom & Dad's though, because Mama wants me to talk to her, and keeps forgetting if I tell her I need to work. (sigh)

And we have an extra car here. My sister in Idaho brought her family down to go on a cruise, and they borrowed the other sister's car to drive over from Austin, and it's now parked in our back yard. Four cars. Three drivers. If Ike does come, we don't have enough people to get all the cars out of Dodge. (Sigh again.) We're just hoping the storm surge is 17 feet or less. The seawall is 17 feet high, so it can handle that much surge. More, and we're probably flooded.

Think south.

Workshops

Going to take a bit of time, (I've been talking to the English guy in the newsroom too much, I think. Ian's rubbing off on me.) before I have to run to pick the son up at the airport (from England--hmm) and do that blog about RWA workshops I went to, while I have it. Time, I mean.

Okay. The first workshop in my little notebook (a non-spiral composition book in a smaller size I bought just for conference, and have decided I really like), is MEDICAL FACTS AND FALLACIES. This was presented by an actual doctor, who said that movies are really bad places to get information about how doctors and hospitals and emergency rooms and the like actually work. For instance, in one movie, a man was trying to look up poison someone had been given by thumbing through the Physician's Desk Reference to match pills. A doctor would actually look in one of the books called a "toxidrome" which lists poisons by their symptoms. She gave lots of juicy little details. Like, bullet wounds don't get infected like knife wounds, (the bullet's speed of travel makes it too hot for germs to stick, or something like that) so they don't dig them out, unless the location is dangerous. She recommended a book GREATEST BENEFIT TO MANKIND (according to my notes), and said that writers could fudge the facts for the benefit of the premise of the story--as long as you don't fudge too much. This was a great workshop, and if you can get it on tape, do so.

I went to HOW TO REVIVE A DYING PROJECT OR A DYING CAREER. This was more of a motivational workshop than a crafty "how-to." Yes, it was How To, but it was How to deal with fears and perfectionism and the stuff that gets in the way of getting the writing done. It was pretty good too, and in it she recommended the books by Ralph Keys, COURAGE TO WRITE and THE WRITER'S BOOK OF HOPE.

I also went to Theresa Meyers' DOWN AND DIRTY MEDIA TRAINING which had a lot of great ways to handle interviews and how to get interviews. Like, in order to get a media interview, you need a hook to connect yourself to the audience, so first you can identify a problem the audience might have, and then shoot it down. "The economy is bad and people are depressed. But Romance makes people feel good, and it's cheap." Had some really good stuff in this one too. I've been impressed by Meyers on line. Now I was impressed by her in person.

I went to the PLOTTING WHEEL workshop, but the original person who was supposed to give this workshop couldn't be there, and the sub wasn't very good.

The workshop on how to make the Regency Historical connect to today's readers was a good one. It gave me some good ideas for my own works--like creating a place on my website where my readers can experience my fantasy world. The early 1800s is far enough away that it's like a foreign universe, so that's what these speakers did.

I went to a Writing the Selling Synopsis workshop. I always need a good way to write a synopsis. I'm not sure I use any of the stuff that I've workshopped on, but maybe it's soaking in. Anyway, this workshop gave one way to organize things and did a good job of it. And since I sort of use this method, maybe it helped and will help me refine what I do.

I think I went to a couple of other workshops, but they weren't the kind where you take notes. I went to the theft of intellectual property/plagiarism workshop and got a lot out of it, and I went to a "What RWA can do for you" workshop that I liked a lot. And as I said earlier, I went to the Tor spotlight and saw my cover.

Okay, time to go. Though the boy's (and girls') plane is about 2 hours late, this will give me time to go by the bank, and mail the son-in-law's birthday present.

Post-Holiday Rush

Last weekend was a holiday weekend. After running like a crazy person all of last week, the weekend arrived and I had a chance to relax. Somewhat. I did a little bit of running to get downtown to the parade, because the fella was going to be in it. It was kind of a short parade, and I forgot to put on sunscreen ahead of time, and the shady places weren't the best parade-watching places, but it was a nice parade. I saw him glide by in the Mustang convertible, but was too far away to wave. And then we wandered around the Railroad Museum and looked at the model trains and listened to a few of the speeches, and went home again.

The boy's girlfriend came down for the weekend, which was fun. He'd asked for days off, but he had to go in and report before he could officially get off--though he did every time. And that was nice too. Friday the Fourth, we were very lazy. After the parade, we "rested" until time to go watch the fireworks off the 37th Street jetty. It's nice that they can shoot fireworks over the water, because it really cuts back on the fire hazard worry. And they were some spectacular fireworks, about a 30 minute show. I enjoyed it a lot. Then we drove home and grilled steaks. Yum.

Saturday, we went to see "Get Smart." I actually liked it better than the TV show, because Max had some smarts. The fella and the boy had already seen it, but the girlfriend and I hadn't. So we made them take us. There are still a few movies I want to see. I'm hoping the grandboys haven't seen Wall-E yet, since they're coming for the weekend. It would be fun to take them.

This week hasn't quite been as wild and woolly, but it has been busy. The boy's vehicle isn't repaired yet, so we're having to take each other to work, depending on who has to work longer hours. I got the car today. He gets it tomorrow.

I'm trying to get a synopsis written so I can send a partial off before I go to San Francisco for the RWA National Conference. And once again, I know some things that will happen, but I don't know exactly how or why they will happen. I'll figure it out when I get there. I got most of the plot events figured out, right up to the finale, and then Pthfthffftttttpbthpt. Nothing.

I know that the hero and heroine will essentially rescue each other. Or team up to rescue themselves and beat the bad guy. But I have no clue exactly how they'll do it. I'm not entirely sure just how far their teaming up will go. I don't want it to happen like it does in New Blood, but ... Hmm. Well, usually, if I leave it alone and let things bubble in the swamp where my stories come from, something will bubble up from the primordial goo. And I think the fermentation is already making wine...or something. So that's where the writing is.

Oh. I walked yesterday. So I'm one more mile towards Rivendell. That makes--um--7? (Yeah, I didn't walk far. But I walked.)

Life in All its Confusion

Yeah, I know. Haven't been here in a while.

So. ApolloCon was lots of fun. Saw my friends Rosemary Clement-Moore (of the Prom Dates From Hell books) and Shanna Swendson (of the Enchanted, Inc. series), and Chuck Emerson of Houston Bay Area RWA, and made some new friends. I met A. Lee Martinez who also writes some cool books, and his girlfriend Sally who is very cute and funny, and Rie Sheridan and Martha Wells, and I even got to meet Allen Steele who was the Guest of Honor--except Every One of my panels was opposite Every Single guest of honor. I did manage to get to be on a panel with Steele, who is a very nice man, and with Steven Brust, who has an amazing leather akubra-ish hat, and reminds me of Kinky Friedman, only without the cigar and Jewish cowboy-ness. Listened to some amazing music. Bought some art.

I bought some new books --Martha Wells's The Wizard Hunters, and Shanna's new Enchanted book, Don't Hex With Texas, and Rosemary's Prom Dates. And yes, I've already read them all. Now I need to get the next book in Martha's series, and I need to get another book I wanted, but I don't remember the title, and I don't remember the author's last name--I just remember it was a fantasy, and it had horses in it, and an alternate world. Drat. Now I'm going to have to try to figure it out. Ha! Patrice Sarath (See, I can find these things if I am sufficiently motivated) and the book is Gordath Wood from Ace fantasy. Yay! There may have been one or two others I need--yep, the new Jack Campbell is out. Okay, need to buy more books. (Okay, I don't NEED to, but...)

And then, on Sunday, when the con was over, I headed out for the hospital in Austin. My mom was supposed to have minor, in-and-out day surgery last Wednesday, but when they looked inside, turned out they needed to do more than they'd thought, so it turned into major surgery. I was really worried she'd be going home from the hospital with nobody to look after her and Daddy (he's only slightly less forgetful than she is), since the sister who lives next door was out of town at a wedding. Since my dad can barely take care of himself, I wasn't sure how he'd do with taking care of Mama too, right out of the hospital. Fortunately, they kept her in the hospital through Sunday, (and Daddy stayed in the room with her the whole time, so he had some looking-after too), and I was able to get there and take them home on Monday and stay a couple of days. The surgery went well, she's healing really well, the tumor they found hadn't spread so she won't have to have any further treatments, and my sister comes home today.

I think I've convinced them that when they're hungry, they ought to eat, so they don't lose any more weight. Daddy's looking awfully thin, I think because when he starts a meal, he gets up to do something in the middle of it, and forgets he's still eating. But one day, he seemed to forget he'd already eaten and made himself another sandwich and ate a second lunch, so hopefully, he'll make up for it. Several small meals during the day is probably better for them anyway.

And now I'm home again, and still have a synopsis to write. And I'm kind of brain dead. The boy's girl is coming down for the weekend, so we'll play over the holiday, and maybe my brain will come home again.

No writing. Not much exercise. I walked to the mail box and back with Mama, and halfway around the house, and back and forth across the hospital three or four times--but I don't think that got me very far toward Rivendell. But, ya know? Sometimes life throws you a few fastballs, with curves. I'm still here.

How is Reality TV like Genre Fiction?

I was scanning the blogs I have come to read semi-regularly, and one of them had a post about Reality Television.

Now, I don't watch much reality TV. I don't like the Survivor-type shows, or the Bachelor shows, or the ones where they try to screw up peoples' lives. I have to admit that I am even enough of a prehistoric antediluvian (if those words don't mean the same thing), that I don't watch American Idol.

I do however like a good many of the "fix-up-your house/yard" shows, and will watch Dancing with the Stars with the fella. (He also likes Iron Chef--which I have to admit is sometimes fun.) Still, I'm just not a big reality TV fan. So when I read this post about how writers like Reality TV, I thought "pfffftthh--yeah, right." I do see how other writers might like it, but frankly, I think Reality TV is far less real than the scripted stuff, because People just Don't let out their real gut-deep stuff. We hang onto our secrets.

Anyway, one thing said hit me.

The plot takes the viewers on a journey, from the opening credits of the first episode to the closing credits of the finale. The number of episodes and even types of challenges might remain the same from season to season but, couple it with the characters, and the story becomes something a bit different each time.

And suddenly, I had a rebuttal for those who complain about how genre fiction always has such a predictable ending. (Although, it's usually only romance that gets those kinds of complaints, sometimes one gets them for other sorts of genres.) Reading a romance or a mystery novel is about the Journey and the Characters, not the ending.

Admittedly, the folks who sneer at romance and other commercial fiction also usually sneer at Reality TV--but regular, scripted television shows are the same. Except in that case, you even have the same characters facing the same kinds of challenges. Characters discover a crime. Characters solve a crime. The end. Then again, those folks sneer at pretty much all television. I tell ya, it's almost like you're flat not supposed to enjoy anything at all.

These are the same people who get all shocked when you talk about reading something Just For Fun. Who think you must read Edifying Fiction (or strictly non-fiction).

Well, phooey on that. By the time you get out of school (and some of you are taking longer about that than others), life's too short to spend time reading a book (or watching television) unless you Enjoy it. Don't think you "ought" to read this or that. If you like it, then read it. If you don't, then don't--and don't apologize to anybody for it.

No wonder there are so few readers left--when so many in the world are sucking all the FUN out of reading!

Okay, I will get off my soapbox now. I'm just frustrated today, I guess, by all the people who seem determined to suck the fun out of--reading, if not life...

No writing this week. I did get all my revisions in the computer for the Old Spirits partial. I printed out the first couple of chapters of New Blood to read at ApolloCon. Never did put that on my website, did I? Sorry.

I'm hoping I won't have to go look after the parents before Sunday afternoon--Mom had surgery that was more extensive than we expected (still relatively minor), so... I'm pretty sure I'll have to go up sometime, though, because I'm not sure just how competent Daddy is with the looking-after.

OH. And the boy wrecked his car. Nobody hurt. Something of a slow-mo crash--low speeds. The other person got a ticket, but his car isn't drivable, and this is the third time it's had front-end damage. (I don't think we're counting the tree that fell on it...) We may have to get a new car. But for right now, we're dealing with being a 2 car family with 3 drivers. He dropped me off today, and will pick me up, but I'm leaving the island tomorrow, so he and his father will have to deal with car issues then.

Forty-Two

Those of you from the South know that I am not making up random numbers to title my blog. Forty-Two is a game. I didn't realize that it was also called Texas Forty-two, or The National Game of Texas--but I am not surprised. Forty-two is played with dominoes, and it has a little bit in common with Bridge, because the person who wins the bid chooses trumps. It has a little bit in common with Spades, because it's a lot easier to learn than Bridge, and it is generally a fast and furious fun time.

Monday night, we had a couple over for root beer/Coke floats and Forty-two. I wound up partnering with the male half of the couple, and We Wiped The Floor with our respective life partners. First game wasn't quite a skunking. They won one hand. The second game was neck and neck, but my partner bid two marks (we're not purists who actually count up the points in a game--if you win a round--one shuffle--you get a mark. Period.) and I helped him win it. It's always more fun when you're winning.

It was fun finding a new family who plays Forty-two. In our families--both the fella's and mine--you learn how to play Forty-two at least by the time you turn 13. It's possible to learn it as young as 10, but really, you're not ready for the cut-throat strategizing, or counting the spots and remembering what's fallen--and all the bazillion rules and variations on rules and ways to bid and make a bid--until you're around 13. I have many, many memories of family Forty-two tournaments.

Once, when I was in high school, we had gone to Yellowstone Park for a weekend, and after dark, we needed a game to play in the cabin we were renting. I don't think the sisters were old enough yet to be in the Forty-two game, but my brother and I had learned. Except we didn't bring the dominoes. So we went over to the Old Faithful gift shop to buy some. And the only dominoes we could find were in a travel set. Instead of the nice 1-inch by 2-inch playable dominoes we had at home, these were about 1/2-inch by 1-inch, without much thickness at all. See, you have to set your domino hand up on their edges so nobody else can see them, because it's really hard to fan a set of seven dominoes. But these travel-sized things were so narrow, they kept falling over, so everybody could see who had the double-five or the six-four. (Which is bad. Take my word.) We eventually wound up holding them in our hands. These were small enough you could kind of line them up on your palm and see them okay, and keep everybody else from seeing them. I remember laughing a lot that night.

There is usually a lot of laughing during Forty-two games. There is also a fair amount of fist-shaking, and name-calling. (You gunky! is a popular one.) When the middle sister had finally achieved the proper age to be taught how to play, I remember that the brother had just learned a new word: Renege. And so, being an obnoxious teen at the time, he kept accusing everybody--especially the sister--of reneging. Of course, she had never heard of the word, and had no idea what he was accusing her of, and--being a touchy pre-teen--quickly grew offended. So the next time he spouted off "You reneged!" she came back with "Well, you bedogged!"

If he was going to make up insults, so was she. We still accuse each other of bedogging.

I really like to play against my father-in-law, though it's not quite so much fun to play as his partner. He has this not-so-good habit of bidding on his partner's hand. Or on, well--nothing. Just because he hasn't had a chance to bid in a while. And this is despite the fact that there is no such thing as a re-shuffle. If the bid goes around and nobody bids, the shuffler (there is no deal, each player has to draw their own dominoes) HAS to take the bid. He hates the force bid--but he'll bid on nothing anyway. Makes him easy to set.

I have more Forty-two stories. But I think that's enough of a riff on dominoes for today. I love dominoes. The world would be a better place, I think, if more people played Forty-two, and learned how to call each other gunky and bedogger, and still be friends.

Oh. I wrote 2.5 pages Monday, 4 pages yesterday, and 4.5 pages today. Not bad.

And I think I'm going to (maybe) try to "walk to Rivendell" which is 458 miles. Which will probably take me better than a year. I did about 2 miles today. With the dog. Exhausting.

When I don't WRITE FIRST

This is the granddog. Dolly wanted me to throw her bone for her when I took her picture. She's not jealous of her toys at all, though she does like to play tug-of-war. She was just home for the weekend when I took the pic. She's spending the summer with us now, and has filled out a little more. She's just now getting to be a year old. I've enjoyed having a dog to play with and take out to walk.

We went walking this morning and she worked me hard--didn't pull or anything. She was very good on the leash. But she likes to walk fast, and I hate to hold her back, so I walked a little faster. Which is good for me, so I probably ought to take her out more often, huh?

I was fussing at her, trying to get her to hold still in this other picture, and she dropped her bone and put on that "I'm in trouble?" look... No, I didn't crop or compress the pictures. Should have, but I didn't. I was mad at the computer, because it wasn't downloading the pictures the way I wanted it to. I did finally get them downloaded--after only a little cussing...

I've been wanting to share pictures of the granddoggy--and to put some pictures on the blog just because they look nice, but, well... Mostly I blog at the dayjob these days, and I don't have my pictures there. I e-mailed these to myself. I'll have to do that more often. :)

Don't know what I have to blog about. Went walking today. The beach was lovely. Not so much seaweed today.

I did get six good pages written yesterday...and today, I wrote a paragraph. I think it had more than one sentence in it.

See, I've listened twice now to a workshop on Writer's Bootcamp, which discusses lowering goals to raise production. If your goal is one sentence, and you write two, you've achieved 200 per cent of your goal. (Right, math person?) Anyway, I'd like to write more than one paragraph, but --and I do know exactly what I did wrong.

I did not Write First.

I've learned over the years, especially when I got to write full time, that if I am going to get any writing done, I have to Write First. Before I look at the computer, package up books to mail, print out critiques for writing chapter meetings--any of it--I have to write.

Now, it is permissible to shower and have breakfast, and even to go out for a walk with Dolly (or without) (in which case, the walk comes between breakfast and shower, 'cause, you know, one must wash off the sand and salt and sweat--this IS Texas. The temp may only be 87, but there's, like, 900% humidity which makes it feel like it's 418 degrees...) before I start writing. I can also put dishes in the dishwasher, or put laundry on to wash (preferably not both), or make necessary phone calls before I start to wash. (The phone calls really need to come before the writing, because otherwise the phone calls get forgotten and my meds don't get renewed, or my hair gets longer and longer and longer--which state it is in right now. Way Too Long and Shaggy.) But those are the only permitted chores. Otherwise, the writing HAS to come first.

And today, I didn't. I needed to send an important e-mail, and I needed to see if another e-mail had come in. (I hadn't checked e-mail since Monday, so there were a lot, and I didn't read very many of them.) I needed to download pictures from the camera. I needed to print some stuff out, except I couldn't remember where I'd put the files. Then I got out the pages I wrote yesterday. Then there were the books I finished that ought to go on Shelfari (I know. Time-wasters...) Then I looked at what I wrote yesterday.

I added a phrase here, moved parts of a sentence around there to give it the highest impact. I clarified that bit and took this other thing completely out. Then I had to put a sentence in another spot. I tinkered. And when it was time to go on, I wrote my two sentences. (I'm pretty sure there were two.) And came to a stuttering halt.

I HATE this. I want to be able to sit down and just write. And I'm fumbling all over the place. Summer usually sucks when it comes to the writing. There's a lot of stuff going on. I'm traveling a lot, have commitments in the evenings, more people at the house. But those are just excuses. Because if I remember to Write First, I can get it done. Sometimes it comes slow, but it does come. I just have to Write. First.

sigh.

Graduations, sisters and seaweed

So, we went to the niece's graduation last Friday. I took the day off work so we could arrive early enough to help out with the shishkebab party, and got to cut up potatoes, peppers, melons and strawberries to go on skewers. The potatoes and peppers were cooked (with some pretty cool marinated meat). The fruit (which included both green and orange melon and pineapple) was not. (Though I did put some pineapple on to cook, actually.) I got to visit with the sister AND the brother and various in-laws. The nephews condescended to at least say hello, though not much else. They're mostly at that monosyllabic teenaged or pre-teen phase. The nieces did chat more. (There are only two of them, and one is only 8. But her almost 18-year-old sister did visit quite a bit.) It was fun to get to see everybody. This leaves only 5 more kids on my side of the family still in public school. These kids are growing up.

My sister has graduated from college with her teaching degree--just three or four weeks before her daughter finished high school--and has a line on a job in the school where they live. We've all got our fingers crossed.

We came on back home Saturday, because we've got a lot going on this week. And now I try to think what it is, I can't. Lots of church stuff going on. We've been experiencing house shopping with the daughter--they have now made an offer, and it was accepted, so they'll be moving soon if all goes as it should. Hopefully I won't have to go help them move. I've moved too much already this year.

I've been trying to get back in synch with the writing. It's going a tiny bit better. I got 3 pages written today, rather than the 2 pages I wrote yesterday. Maybe I can write 4 pages tomorrow.

I went walking on the beach Monday and took the granddog. I'd been nervous about taking her with me, not knowing how she would behave, but I broke down Monday morning and just did it. Dolly did jump over the seat to sit in the back seat, rather than the back cargo area, but didn't move any farther than that in the car. And when we got to the beach, she was a perfectly behaved little doggy. She didn't even chase the birds, much less try to play with the few kids out that early. We didn't walk in the water much. The seaweed has come in.

Oh BOY has the seaweed come in. It made an ankle-deep blanket about 3 or 4 feet deep right at the water's edge, because there was so much of it, the water couldn't push it any higher on the sand. It kind of dammed the water up, and if we wanted to walk on the water side of the sargasso, we were almost knee deep in the water when the waves came in. And it was this thick along the whole mile course that we walked, and all the miles we drove past.

Dolly's a medium-sized doggy, so she walked a little faster than I do, which got me walking a little faster. Not as much faster as to keep up with Dolly, but faster. I'm a tad sore today.

So, that's the news--pitiful, isn't it? But I'm going to leave things at that.

Blown Away

The wind has been blowing like crazy the past few days--knocking over the glider-swing in the back yard every night (as well as the big trashcan) and scaring the granddog into barking. There's sand blowing across most of the streets in town and piling up in intersections or along curbs or the risers of the stairs up the seawall.

My hair, which needed cutting about 6 weeks ago, is at that awful length where, when the wind gets hold of it, it makes this Dutch-Girl-Paint-girl-hat curl over my ears and nothing I do can make it not stick out in that stupid Bozo-the-Clown curl. The wind is very damp, and has salt in it, and that combines with the hairspray (if I didn't glue my hair down, it would hang straight down in my face and make me CRAZY) and makes the hair even more impossible. I really need a haircut. Bad. And can't seem to remember to call anywhere or squeeze out time to go to a walk-in place. I'm either going to have to get used to looking like Bozo every time I set foot out in this wild wind, or manage to get this mess cut off.

I went out to walk this a.m. Right At High Tide. Usually I'm an hour ahead of the tide turning, or an hour behind, or sometimes smack in the middle. But today, I was on the beach for the only turning of the tide today, as high tide hit and then started back out. Not that I really noticed the turn of it, but I certainly did notice that it was high, especially since this wild wind--enough to make cars rock--is blowing straight onshore and pushing the water in more. I had to go almost to 39th street to find stairs that led to sand rather than water, and even then the water was almost knee deep a time or two. And since the tide was so high, the water was over sand that spends most of its time out of the water. Only the very top layer was wet. Immediately underneath, the sand was soft and squooshy, so I was sinking into the sand rather than pounding along the hard surface you usually get with wet sand, because it wasn't wet enough. All that sinking in makes for quite a workout.

The wind is so strong, the birds were flying at an angle. I saw a few pelicans flying southwest, but pointed south (the direction the wind was coming from). Kind of like you have to drive your car in a strong wind, with the steering wheel pointed into the wind to keep the wind from shoving you off the road. The gulls were flying like crazy just to stand still. It's been this way for days.

I'm waxing so poetical (or maybe obsessively) because there's not much else to report. The fella and I did go out to see PRINCE CASPIAN last night, finally. The boy had to work, or we might have gone to see Indiana Jones. That's the one he wants to see. I forgot to take my sweater, but didn't get too cold. The folks behind us in line had obviously been to the local theater before, because one had a huge fleece robe, and another had a big jacket. Man, they keep that place cold.

The writing, it also sucketh. No real excuse for it, except that I keep finding excuses. People visiting. Errands needing running. Granddogs needing to be played with. Nieces and nephews graduating. The nephew's done. The niece is tomorrow. Have to/want to go. Get to leave early enough to go eat shishkebab at the sister's.

I think I've written a grand total of 5 pages this week. That's five more pages than I had last week, but they're all...transition. Getting from the morgue to the murder scene kind of stuff. Bleah. I mean, we have to get from one place to the other, but it shouldn't have to take 5 pages to do it. Of course, I'm disposing of an excess character (indisposition, not death) and switching POV in the process, but it doesn't feel like anything's happened. Suppose that's because it hasn't. And I'm still not sure where the villain will show up and cause trouble. I'd really like a bit of a frothing-at-the-mouth scene. Especially since I have two potential frothers. Maybe I can use the alternate frother here... Hmm.

Anyway--there's the News Of The Week So Far. Enjoy, and watch out for that wind. :)

Summer Crazy Season

Yes, it has started. The Summer Crazy Season. It begins with graduations, so for us, it started this past Saturday when we went to watch one of the nephews graduate. That meant a trip to Fort Worth, then sitting outdoors (fortunately, the ceremony was in the morning before it got Really Hot and under a tent, so there was less threat of sunburn) for a couple of hours, then off to a family party and much eating of barbecue and shrimps and cake. This is not particularly crazy, but it did involve driving long distances and sitting outside in the heat (they had little cardboard fans on sticks with a photo of the graduating class to stir the air) and lots of very loud children. We have pictures of the grandboys to post--but I don't think they're uploaded yet.

But no, the craziness does not end there, because the very next day, we had to go load up the boy--who is not so boyish any more--and move his stuff to storage, then move the rest of his stuff, and the granddog, home for the summer. This meant lots of climbing up and down stairs and vacuuming and re-packing of overstuffed boxes. (He didn't inherit the packing gene which his father and sister have...That's my boy...) And then driving again.

We had a party/potluck barbecue Monday night I made a bushel of potato salad for. (Other families don't eat potato salad like mine does. Five pounds of potatoes is only the beginning--and if the other folks at the pot luck don't eat much, all the better. They can have it for breakfast.) (Yes. Breakfast.) Also made the flour-free peanutbutter cookies, AKA the easiest cookies ever.

Much of the rest of the time has been spent trying to get the boy's internet up and running. I have internet. We're just trying to branch it off the main modem for him. The router we used in the Panhandle is refusing to work. You can only buy wireless routers now--though the one we got does have wire hookups for four computers, plus the wireless thing. But it's extremely slow when it does work. So I think he's taking it back and picking up another one. (Things are beginning to feel expensive.)

I did use the trip to the mainland to pick up the router as an excuse to stop off at the mall Waldenbooks and snabble up a copy of Blood Noir. I read it too. I'll wait a day or two before I go through it again and make sure I caught everything. I also bought a bunch of new romances because, hey--Waldenbooks has a "buy 4 get 5th free" thing, and I'd already picked up 3 of them. So I got 5 in all. The new Quinn, the new Layton, the new Chase, an Elizabeth Bevarly and ... one other I can't remember right now.

Let's see--this coming weekend, we have company coming. Tomorrow. The next weekend, a niece is graduating and we're going up for that. Then there's stuff during the week. Oh, and it's time to get ready for hurricane season on top of everything else. We live on a Gulf coast barrier island, so this is not something to ignore. So we have to put together a couple of hurricane kits--one for evacuation and one for riding it out in place (for the Category 1-2 size hurricanes).

Then I think we're here for a weekend, and then it starts again. Ack!

All of this makes it very hard to get much writing done. I'm creeping along this week at about 3 pages a day--on the days I get there. Friday will be hopeless this week. I just have to keep plugging.