Taking a quick break from writing - okay, wait.

I have to stop here.

I haven't been writing, so much as REVISING. Yes, Dear Writer's Group - this is why I have zero word count posted. There was been no new word count to post.

But, I'm happy with it since I'm productive and moving forward - though I admit to a little disappointment with the fact that I most likely won't end November with a cool icon proclaiming me a nano winner.

Meh.

I've also been studying for this loathsome test in every spare moment (okay, I DID watch some House, too) and have been working on these user manuals.

Suffice it to say, Kaff is not happy at the mo. Which was strongly evidenced by my dream - in which the world was taken over by zombies.

Uber creepy. I kept trying to get back home to my family and couldn't, no matter what I tried. It was dark out and damp, with dogs snarling and barking, chasing people.

Glad to have woken up - even more glad to see it was just a dream. Zombies do NOT = goodness.

:)

This is meant to be an email, but I like blogging them too -

1. What is your occupation right now?

Jack of All Trades

2. What color are your socks right now?

Brown and lacy. They'd be cool if it weren't for some holes that are trying to come into being.

3. What are you listening to right now?

Santana

4. What was the last thing that you ate?

A fudgesicle I swiped from Bood

5. Can you drive a stick shift?

Yep.

6. Last person you spoke to on the phone?

Bood

7. Do you like the person who sent this to you?

Of course!

8. How old are you today?

46

9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV?

Gross. Moving on ...

10. What is your favorite drink?

Ultra violet diet mountain dew

11. Have you ever dyed your hair?

Many, many times in many many colors

2. Favorite food?

Wow. Um, the ones that are edible.

13. What is the last movie you watched?

Surrogates

14. Favorite day of the year?

Thanksgiving. HUGE day for my family.

15. How do you vent anger?

Usually I cry with frustration

16. What was your favorite toy as a child?

Never had a fav toy, but I dearly loved my books

17. What is your favorite season?

FALL

18. Cherries or Blueberries?

Cherries, in season

19. Do you want your friends to e-mail you back?

Yes

20. Who is the most likely to respond?

Fee

21. Who is least likely to respond?

Mamba

22. Living arrangements?

Como mi familia

23. Last time you cried?

yesterday

24. What is on the floor of your bedroom?

Blue carpet and vacumm marks. :)

25. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to?

Fee

26. What did you do last night?

Made dinner, tidied up, snuggled with Gary on the sofa and watched House

27. What are you most afraid of

Mutant crickets - no, really

28. Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburgers?

spicy

29. Favorite dog breed?

mutts

30. Favorite day of the week?

Friday - everything is ahead of you

31. How many states have you lived in?

Too many to count

32. Diamonds or pearls?

Geez, I dunno, more of a sterling silver girl, really

33. What is your favorite flower?

Morning Glory

Good LORD my back hurts this morning. I have a horrible feeling I may have pulled some stitches loose, but am too afraid to look. Yes, I *am* mature (Victor, usually), why do you ask?

There's a very nice review of Assiniboin Girl up at Amazon. That's two for two, there.

Here's a link to Amazon's page for AG - you'll have to scroll down to see the review(s).

http://www.amazon.com/Assiniboin-Girl/dp/B002J256BK/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1257070661&sr=8-1

You know, for an IT person, I can be pretty dense about technology. I.E. - I'm sure there's a way to linky-linky right to the review ...

Ah well.

Onward and upward. Off to Nano some words.

Username's Kathi430 if anyone unrelated to me would like to friend me there.

:)

Had what I thought would be my last surgery yesterday, BUT ...

I'm being prepped and the nurse frowns, looking at my side, "This is the one we're removing?" She was speaking to the doctor, but being me and being nosy, I crane my neck to see what she's referring to, which turned out to be a perfectly flat mole on my waist that's been there since birth.

"Oh, that's nothing," I reassure her (yes, in my spare time, I do read medical compendiums*)**

The doctor (rightly) ignores me and walks around the table, bending down to peer at the mole. "That is presenting like a melanoma."

"Uh-huh."

"It definitely must come off. Irregular edges, two different colors on the interior. Definitely this will be coming off."

I pipe up. "Uh, do you mean today?"

English isn't a first language for the doctor, so his words sometimes come out in a syntax I'm not used to. "Some other time we will be doing. Not today - today we are removing growth on back. Some other time we will be doing the side."

"Um,' I frown, wanting to make sure we are communicating clearly. He's a smart guy, but tends to assume you know what he means and I kind of suspect he's used to deferential treatment, something I tend to save for Gary**** . "Hang on, I need to know what priority to put this at. Define 'some other time'. Do you mean, tomorrow, some other time or next year some other time?"

He starts laughing. "Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is Saturday. I don't do surgery of any kind on Saturday."

Ha ha.

Sorry, I interrupted him. Let's join the already in progress show -

"Is not tomorrow-tomorrow kind of surgery. This month will be fine. Wait -" he holds up a hand. "I mean next month. It is still being October now. We will do this next month."

I sigh, thinking of all the things I need to get done in November - first and foremost, it's Nano and I have two books that would benefit (benefit = finish) from 50k words, THANKSGIVING, I have to study for and pass a COMPTIA Security Plus exam to maintain my employment status as a server admin and I've got to do a user manual for an app at work (hey - it's overtime and GOD knows I could use it right now). "How about it wait until December for this?"

"No. We will be doing this in November." He doesn't even look up from what he's writing on my chart. Yeah, I know, it's the hypnotic effect I have on others - the ability to BEND THEM TO MY WILL!! He wants to take NO chances with not doing that surgery in November! Or possibly because he's a very polite man and I'm sprawled on an operating table partially clothed. Or maybe he was just really into what he was writing, I dunno.

So bottom line - next month promises to be a bear. I'm planning on cutting back on sleep, but in December I'll still be employed, will have cooked for the masses and made turkey pot-pie from leftovers, will hopefully have paid off some of the debt that's piling up quicker than I have funds coming in and will have two books ready for the editing cutting block.

Oh yeah - and melanoma-free. That's important too.

:)







*NOT, don't be ridiculous

**I am a huge know-it-all at times***

***All right, who just yelled, "WE KNOW!!"??

****No, I'm kidding. I'm actually a smart ass to everyone.

- a continuing adventure.

I promised Nuk I wouldn't TELL folks about what is now referred to as The Coffee Debacle, but I also said I'd probably blog about it (which means I WILL blog about it).

Tamair is a sweet kid of twenty-one that I've known since she was a baby - I used to do daycare for her, she's like one of my own kids in a lot of ways.

And in other ways, she's not.

For instance, my own kids learned at an early age how to make coffee because as far as I'm concerned, it's part of tidying the kitchen after dinner. The dishes get cleaned, floor gets swept and coffee for the next day gets prepped, so all *I* have to do in the morning is stumble out, flip the switch and climb back in bed for another twenty minutes while the coffee brews (yeah, my coffee maker *is* that old.

Anyway.

So now, Tamair, aka Nuk, works with me. She's a tea drinker. Tea is easy to make; you put water in a cup, put the cup in the microwave, wait two minutes, remove cup, add tea bag, wait five more minutes, pitch used tea bag, add sugar and viola! Tea is done.

Though I was unaware of this fact, coffee is evidently VERY HARD to make.

Nuk and I have a standing rule that whoever gets in first will make the beverages for the two of us - tea for her and coffee for me. Up until recently, when Nuk had come in first, someone else in the office had made the coffee and all she had to do was pour.

That was up until recently. Picture this scene, if you will...

I walk into the office a bit late, spy a cup of steaming joe waiting on the desk, stirrer stick still quivering from its turn in the cup. There's a hearty, fresh-brewed smell in the air.

"Oh my gosh!" I plop down, throw my bag under my desk and grab the cup. "Thanks SO much! This is exactly what I need right now!"

Nuk ducks her head and grins shyly. "You're welcome."

Cupping the mug in both hands, I bring it close to my face, letting the steam tease some warmth back into my nose. "Smells great." I take a sip, and choke.

"OH MY GAWD!!" The cup goes back onto the desk a bit quicker than it left. I look at Nuk. "How much coffee did you put in the coffee maker??"

"Um ..." She frowns and fiddles with her keyboard.

"One, right? You know just ONE scoop goes in the pot?"

"One?" The frown deepens and she tugs at her lower lip thoughtfully. "One ... hmm."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing. I can read this kid like a book. "How many scoops did you put into the coffee filter?"

"Um ... three?" Nuk has a sort of halting speech when she gets agitated, it's a defense mechanism to allow her time to get her thoughts in order.

"Three?" I laugh again, then take pity on the poor child, since she looks stricken. I stand, coffee cup in hand. "No problem. I'll go down and make another pot. People might be a bit wired around here today otherwise."

Leaving the room, I can hear Nuk behind me saying thoughtfully, "One. Right, it's just one scoop ..."

Tomorrow, I'll present Part Two of Mar-Mar and The Coffee.

Sometimes I do some really dumb things. I can be hard-HEADED in the extreme.

Night before last I was sleeping and Gary woke me up with the words, "You can't take the truck to work in the morning."

Sitting up, I rub my face. "Huh?"

"You can't take the truck to work - the wipers are broken."

I just stare, my mind slowly grinding his words into sense.* Gary's been married to me for twenty-eight years, so he just waits patiently, rain thundering down outside.

Finally my heads clears. "It's raining**. How am I going to get to work?"

"You'll have to take Terri's car."

"But -"

"Oh, right. There are no stickers." He just shakes his head and leaves the room.

Well, of course I know best. I know I can do anything I have to - including getting to work with no wipers.***

*sigh*

At the end of the street that connects my neighborhood with the rest of the world, I have unbuckled my seat belt and am sticking my arm out the window, trying to move the wiper manually, while the first glimmers of oh crap are starting to swirl around inside my head.

I only live 4.5 miles from work - at a fast clip, I can walk it in a little over and hour and fifteen minutes. I should have chosen that option, because at about the two mile mark, I'm creeping down the road, my heart racing, wondering if I should just turn around. But, I reason, it's about the same distance no matter which way I drive. I might as well keep going.

It's true that God looks out for fools and little children****, because the only reason I managed to get myself to work in one piece HAD to be because of a higher authority. I guess I'm just not done here yet.*****

Gary called me when he got up. "Do we have anymore sugar?"

"In the white pantry, second shelf from the bottom. It's a ten pound bag."

"Oh, okay, here it is."

"Aren't you going to ask me how I got to work?"

"I assume you drove."

"Yeah, but why didn't you warn me??"

"Uh ..."

"That's right, you did."

"You're just hard-headed." Gary's voice is mild. "I'm glad you made it okay."

"I should listen to you."

"Yep. But you won't."

I sigh. He's right. I need to work on that. "Love you, bye."

"Love you too."

And, note to self - just because you THINK you can do anything you have to, doesn't mean you SHOULD.





*I'm not a graceful waker, as you might have already guessed.

**Notice the keen powers of observation?

***And I was completely awake this time. Amazing.

****Note: I'm not a little child.

*****Nano is coming up and I still haven't given Gary all the passwords to the sites where the bills are paid.

I'm laying in bed reading Child of Fire (still good, in case you're wondering) when I hear footsteps. Frowning, I look at the clock, which reads 9:02.

Jeremy zips into the room and stands next to the bed. "Mom! I just saw a trailer for New Moon! Did you know they are making another movie about the Twilight people?"

For some insane reason, I'm not all a-flutter at the news. "Why is your television on?"

"Huh?"

I nod at the clock. "School night. Nine o'clock. Turn it off. Go to sleep." I pointedly begin reading again.

"But -"

Without lowering the book. "I KNOW you're not talking to me right now. I KNOW you're leaving this room, getting in your bed and going right to sleep with no television on."

Over the top of my book, I see Jer leave the room, shoulders slumped exaggeratedly low, feet dragging with every step. I check the internal monitor - nope, still not impressed.

Shaking my head, I mumble. "Why does the child think he gets in bed at 7:30 on a school night?"

Jaime, who up until now has been pretending to sleep next to me** pipes up. "I think he likes to watch tv too much."

"What is going on here?" I push her shoulder a little. "GO TO SLEEP!"

Sheesh. No revolutions after nine, please. It makes getting up in the morning difficult.

**After a failed start at sleeping in her own room nightly, Jaime has gone back to falling asleep with me until Daddy comes to bed, at which point he carries her slumbering form away and tucks her in.

I found a new (GREAT) author courtesy of an LJ friend (selfavowedgeek): Harry Connolly, writer of Child of Fire.

After following a couple of links, I read the first chappie and was HOOKED. Being baroque as a joke, I begged Jadie for her Kindle and charged the book to her. Even though I was dead tired last night, I managed to get one-quarter through the book.

I highly recommend this new talent - being a fledgling pubbed author myself, I love to help other writers succeed - especially when they are as gifted as this fellow is!

Expect a full review when I'm done reading -

:)

"Mom! My X-Box isn't working!"

*sigh*

Words I hate to hear. Especially since I didn't opt for the insurance and the console is out of warranty.

No big deal. Wasn't the red ring of death - just a failure to read ANY CD stuck into the box. Which means things are pretty gross in there. And by gross I mean dust, NOT green slime.

Thank goodness for the plethora of youtube videos showing how to pop the case - it'd been a few years and I had totally forgotten.

Several papertowels, an eighth of a bottle of alcohol, one can of compressed air and a handful of Q-Tips later, things were back to normal.

I feel like I should throw one of those "priceless" quotes in here somewhere, but it's early. I'm still working on my first diet soda (hey calm down - it's only one of two).

It's Sunday, which means Doing Jaime's Hair. I hope there's a good movie that's suitable for viewing by littles available.

I have a turkey breast I'm going to slow roast and some sweet potatoes (still a toss-up between making sweet potato pie or sweet bread - hell, maybe I'll just roast them too). Also on the menu: an acorn squash, some corn, greens and homemade bread.

Had a really weird semi-waking dream/book idea (still toying with my Nano project) about a creature that started life in a swamp as a sentient orchid, but found a home in the shell of a girl who was comatose. If you look closely under her hair, atthe base of her skull, you'll see the pink and black petals. It kind of creeps me out, because the orchid has no morals to speak of, being of the vegetative persuasion, and pretty much does whatever she has an urge to.

Ah well, just did a time check - got to go wash the color out of my hair. Sunday morning are ideal for the regeneration of youth.

Hollah!

:)

Jaime now has the bug Jeremy had and stayed home from school yesterday. I carried her to the doctor's after work - here's the conversation we had en route:

Jaime: We need a shark.

Me: Oh? Where would we put a shark?

Jaime: In the laundry room. A shark can pick up steel. It never loses its suction power.

Me: Wait - what are we talking about?

Jaime: A SHARK! It's a vacuum cleaner, but it's better than the average vacuum.

Me: Hmm.

Jaime: Also, there's this stuff you can use to stick pictures on your walls so there aren't any nail marks and the picture NEVER FALLS DOWN. We need to get that too.

Me: Why?

Jaime: Because we don't want to have unsightly marks on our walls.

Me: Um ... sweetie, you do realize that you watched a couple of really long commercials that were trying to get you to buy stuff, right?

Jaime: Yeah. *pause* But the stuff they were talking about was really cool and will make our life easier.

Me: Okay - no more television when you're home sick.

Jaime: Man!

Jaime (grumbles): But I still think we need a shark.

Me: One more word and you're going to vacuum the family room when we get home, using our old, inefficient vacuum.

Jaime: *thinking.unpleasant.things*

In other news, I've been recording a daily episode of The Biggest Loser - it's a repeat of a previous season. Terri and Karina watch it with me after dinner - Terri because she says it inspires her to work out harder (she and Jade are RELIGIOUS in adhering to daily workouts) and Karina because Karina is amenable to anything.

One interesting thing we've noted after watching a couple of seasons - someone ALWAYS cries. It's SO annoying. I tend to yell at the TV (I think I mentioned this before) when people act ridiculous and while this usually annoys everyone else in the house, Terri and Karina are with me on this one.

"Oh My Gawd!! Stop crying! So you didn't win immunity!"

OR

"Oh My Gawd!! Stop crying! You just won immunity!"

(an aside - perhaps Jaime does come by her bent for "reality" television honestly)

Gary refuses to be in the same room while we watch this show, claiming the whole thing is ridiculous, especially after we start arguing over who should train us - Jillian or Bob.

At any rate, it's a fun 45 minutes.

:)

It's been raining here for almost a solid week. Okay - only four straight days but it feels like longer.

This makes the house feel really full since the littles can't go outside and play. It's amazing how much racket two little-littles and two semi littles can make.

I escaped yesterday for a bit to run errands - squelching wetly from car to store, feeling a bit bedraggled in my wet wool sweater while I spent a blissful hour slowly perusing the aisles of the grocery store, looking for bargains. It sounds pretty lame, I know, but that's one of my favorite alone activities. And I struck paydirt (for the second day in a row, mind)! The cashier had to call the manager over to over-ride the "too many coupons" error that kept her from scanning my last few coupons. I saved 78.00 bucks off of my bill, laying out only 62.00; the day before, I saved over a hundred dollars, spending only 128.00.

I love a bargain.

"A white Louisiana justice of the peace said he refused to issue a marriage license to an interracial couple out of concern for any children the couple might have.

Keith Bardwell, justice of the peace in Tangipahoa Parish, said it is his experience that most interracial marriages do not last long.

"I'm not a racist. I just don't believe in mixing the races that way," Bardwell said. "

****
Really? Wow. I'm so glad Gary and I didn't know 28 years ago that our marriage was doomed.

This mentally challenged fool is concerned for their future kids? You know - them mixed babies.

Good lord. My poor kids. I should tell them right away to STOP doing well - toss them old college degrees right in the trash. Don't they know they aren't fulfilling some old white man's stereotype??

If you hear any laughter, trust me it's bitter. I've been here and it ain't a pretty place.

For reasons I'm sure I don't need to go into, it seems to be white men that have the most trouble accepting a mixed race union. My own grandfather stopped speaking to me until the day of his death because I fell in love with a Black man and then dared to have babies with him.

My father did his best to ignore me from several states away, once writing me a letter telling me that he would never accept my marriage or its issue. He hasn't spoken to me in over ten years, despite repeated attempts on my part to get in touch with him - something that makes Gary furious because he hates to see me cry.

There is a supreme irony here - both of the men in my life to whom I was closest growing up professed to be better people that ANY person of color simply because of their whiteness, but neither of them had any trouble whatsoever cutting me totally out of their lives when I did something they didn't like. My Black husband would NEVER, under any circumstances, cease communications with any of his kids or grandchildren - he would rather be dead; in fact it would be a mortal blow for him to NOT be around his family. So tell me - what standards do we judge "better" by? Skin color or behavior? I'll take behavior, for a thousand, Alex.

Now let me assure everyone, my life with Gary hasn't been perfect, but it has been normal. Our kids have made decisions with which we didn't agree. That's part of being a kid/teen/young adult. But they COULD NOT do anything which would make us cast them away.

My marriage has been rocky from time to time; the same is true of every marriage. The bad times pass, if you let them and now, one of the nice things about having been together for so long is that we no longer argue - we don't have to. We know each other well enough that it's easy to avoid the pitfalls; if one of us gets angry, we just talk about it, fix the problem and move on. As you age, you find yourself not wanting to waste time fussing.

All in all, I've been happy. I wonder if that matters to those that opposed my marriage?

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I recently ran into a fellow at work that I hadn't seen in a few years; we used to work in the same office but he left for a promotion and had recently returned to work in an office near mine. He obviously remembered me as someone who wrote, something evidently mock-worthy -

Setting: Office mess, where I'm watching the microwave count down the last twenty seconds of heating a bowl of my kick-ass (knock-off) Zuppa Toscana lunch. Unnamed Guy is rinsing a dish. Distracted by the delicious aroma of my soup, I look over at the noise he's making and accidentally meet his eyes. Awkward conversation between two people who barely know one another ensues.

Unnamed Guy: So, you still writing those stories for your kids? Or have you stopped being inspired by them? (This is very amusing to him, which he demonstrates with much laughter of the HAR HAR HAR variety)

Me: Um ... (wondering whether or not I should bother)

Unnamed Guy: I wish my wife would get a hobby like that. Something to keep her busy. You know, outta trouble. HAR HAR HAR

Me: *grits.teeth*

Unnamed Guy: (completely unaware) I always thought that was cute - you writing those stories for your kids.

Microwave beeps.

Me: (popping open microwave door) Yeah, that was cute. I'm on Amazon, if you want to get a copy of my book. (Carefully maneuvering soup out of microwave, placing it on counter before licking my fingers, where I splashed a little) My next book is coming out in November and I've got another one out soon after. (Gives Unnamed Guy big smile)

Unnamed Guy: Oh.

Me: See you later! (leaves behind tantalizing aroma of Zuppa and Victory)


Gawd, I'm hateful sometimes. But honestly, only when provoked.

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