The End Draweth Nigh

but not nigh fast enough.

There are only two weeks left of this semester and I'm having to hunt for motivation to keep going. I was trying to finish reading for my Philosophy class yesterday and it progressed from "for all being kings as much as he" to blah, blah, blah, to I DON'T CARE!!!

To be fair, Philosophy and I have had a tenuous relationship from the start. I think there is some value to philosophy-ing but, like some many things, it has been taken to the extreme. Thus my slow burning disdain for Philosophy has turned into a raging fire of disgust and constipation.

Now, I know I should cowboy up and get it done but... Have you ever found yourself almost to the end of some dreadful experience that you have tried valiantly to soldier through only to find, when you get to the end, that all of your patience is just gone?

For example: You've put in your two week notice and you're counting the days until that two weeks is up, when the office whiner comes to perch on your desk and warble his (or her) complaints. Before you put in your notice, you would have been sympathetic or ignored him (or her) but now that you don't care about office politics, you direct him to shut his pie hole and get his hinder off your work space. That doesn't sound like something you'd do? Well good for you, but it happens to me all the time.

Would you like some cheese with that whine, you ask.

Yes. Yes I would.

Heaven Help Me

Or rather, heaven help her.

The "her" in question is my near eleven year old designated "Eeny". She used to be a pleasant, easy going little girl but, I kid you not, in the last three weeks she has become disagreeable, moody and generally a pain in the aft end.

Now I know what you're thinking, she got her 'tude from me, but that's not it. Okay, that may be part of it but seriously! I'm not ready for this. I know it's too late and I should have been a preparin' afore now but I thought I had time. I'm not ready for buttheads...I mean butting heads.

I'm doomed.

Coming Up Next, Your Local Weather

Expect rain and severe shingle removing wind gusts for the next six days.

It's perfect, really. Perfect for our insurance company. See, they only consider damage caused by each storm. So when we called last Friday to have them come assess the bald spot on the back of the house, they consider that one claim. Therefore, when the front of the roof was scalped yesterday, they told us that we had to open a second claim. So if we continue on this little dance WE will have replaced our entire roof by next month and they don't have to pay for any of it. See how that works boys and girls.

So what have we learned? We don't call in a claim until the roof is gone. Entirely.

First Time its Funny, Second Time its Silly,

Third time deserves a spanking.

I left my school parking permit in Mr. D's car again. That's twice this week.

Here's the dealio. Mr. D's work schedule changed at the beginning of this month. Before that, he made it home just in time for me to hop in the car and head to school, leaving him the children and the van. Now, he gets home at the same time I should be there. That wouldn't be a problem except I have to take the children to a sitter then drive to the school with the child transport vehicle so he has to smoosh our four children into the rubber band driven tin can to get them home from said sitter. I take the tin can on Saturday mornings so he can have the transport which is why the parking tag was in the can and not the van.

So Tuesday, I realized I didn't have the wretched yellow permit about an hour before I had to be at school. It was a debacle trying to get it.

I called Mr. D to tell him I had left the tag in his car and he said "It might be in there, I'm not sure." To which I responded "No. I'm not asking if it is, I'm telling you it is." So he said "I'll meet you at the school before class and we'll trade cars." I agreed to that plan.

However, he still wasn't there at five minutes before class started.

Starting to feel a little frustrated, I went and dropped my things in the classroom to let it be known I WAS there on time. Now, you might ask why being late is a big deal. Well, I'll tell you. It's because I have an intense need to be there on time. The end.

He finally showed up ten minutes after class started. I had to wait outside until he got there because I thought it was less obnoxious than waiting for a text before leaving class in the middle of lecture.

So I'm at home this morning, minding my own business, when Mr.D sends me a text saying I left the tag again.

DANG IT!!!

The Zombies Like to Eat Their Friends

One afternoon, about three months ago, the children (Eeny, Meeny, Miney, and Moe) and I had oursleves a little nap. I set a timer to keep us from sleeping the entire afternoon away. For whatever reason, I was dreaming about zombies when the timer went off and a song started in my head. It matched the music of the timer perfectly. It went somethinglike this- The zombies like to eat their friends, the zombies like to eat their friends, the zombies like to eat their friends. So ever since then, the youngsters sing "The Zombies Like to Eat Their Friends" whenever the timer goes off. Good times.

Time Marches On...Very Slowly

Well, it's been six days since I mailed my manuscript and I haven't heard anything yet. That's a joke. Mostly.

I have tried to fill my days with tasks that would keep me busy. I worked on small things like feeding my children, doing my homework, teaching my students and cleaning my house (I thought about that last one, anyway). My kids asked me several times when I would be coming away from the front door and my husband, Mr. D, asked if I planned to sleep there for the next several months. I told him to hush because he was talking too loud so I couldn't hear if the mail truck was coming. He smiled sadly and tucked me into my sleeping bag before heading off to bed.

Buehler? Buehler? Buehler?

I like feedback. It lets me know if what I have written (or said) is coherent, flows in a well ordered manner and/or is entertaining. I find it hard to ask for feedback. Actually, that's not true, I always ask for feedback but I find that most of the time what I get is...lacking in detail. I want details people!! What did you like about whatever it is? Was there anything that didn't make sense. How about my style of writing? Do you find the characters believeable? C'mon guys! Throw me a bone.

While I appreciate all of the positive comments, "it was good" or "I liked it" followed by silence leads me to believe that there really isn't a whole lot more to say. And that's bad. Mediocrity is rampant in this country and I'm not interested in adding my name to that list.

So if it's good, tell me why it's good or if you liked it, tell me what you liked about it. If it stinks PLEASE tell me that nursing may be a better career pursuit.

Novel Inspiration

It's interesting how inspiration strikes and what can inspire. My Philosophy class this week brought on a flash of inspiration (though I wasn't inspired by the lesson. Sorry Professor). I was also inspired in my Anatomy and Physiology class on Tuesday. I couldn't find a piece of paper fast enough. Now, I can't share my lecture notes with my classmates because they're inner mingled with book notes (fertilization occurs in the fallopian tube as they tried to escape the boulder of doom).

I try to keep my notes and outlines all in one spot. It's a mess. I have a mini three ring binder with filler paper and page protectors so when I get that flashy feeling, I can scribble things down. However, many times I'm not home when that flashy feeling strikes so I scribble on what I can find. That's where the page protectors come in. I tuck those notes in the page protector that goes with each story (organized chaos). I like to keep the notes I made because I remember what I was thinking when I wrote them, which helps me get the story down. It also allows me to see how the story has evolved. One day, when I have all the time in the world (just this side of never) I'll be able to get all of the stories written.

 I was telling my friend, Madam C, last night that the worst part about writing is not being able to get the thoughts down as fast as they come. I'm a hunt and peck kind of girl. I've been typing this entry for five hours. Imagine how long it takes to type a manuscript.

SOYLENT GREEN IS MADE OF PEEEEOPPPPLLLLE!!

Soylent Green is a movie, set in the future, where the population has outgrown the worlds resources. Charlton Heston is a detective who is trying to find out why one of the wealthiest men in the world has been assassinated. I just gave away the ending so if you haven't seen it yet, I'm sorry. But go watch it anyway. At the end, Charlton screams his discovery to the world as he's shoveled up and taken to the Soylent Green factory. He has a cameo in the sequel as a square green cracker. Ha! Ha!

I don't eat ham for the same reason.

The most common question I hear when I make that statement is "how do you know what people taste like?" I just do, okay! Actually, I don't but the last time I ate ham (about 13 years ago) I just had a most disturbing picture pop into my head as I masticated a piece of ham. It had been tasty before the picture but... Well, what can I say. At any rate, I don't eat it any more. However, I will eat bacon or porkchops, anything but ham. Does it make sense? Does it have, too?

Paranoia Runs Deep

In the heart of a writer. Or maybe just this writer.

 I like to think of myself as a rational woman. I'm sure some of you who know me might disagree but that's why I didn't ask you. At any rate, since writing my book, I have become exceedingly secretive. People that I would trust to rear my children should I die in an unfortunate accident (she was a beautiful woman, they mourned) or tell my deepest, darkest secrets to (my chocolate stash is hidden in a box under the bed) will only get "It's about a girl who does some stuff and then other things. The End" if they ask what my book is about.

It all started when my husband, hereafter designated as "Mr. Davidson", rented a movie about a kid who writes a story that is stolen and published by another author (Gentlemen Broncos). Concern for the safety of my story had already been percolating at that point but after we saw that movie, it exploded into a fireball of insanity. Mr. Davidson thought it was hi-LARIOUS. So to all of my friends and loved ones who got the "Um, uh, it's about uh..." I am sorry. Though not sorry enough to give more detail. See Ya!

I DID IT!!

I sent my manuscript this morning! I'm such a dork. I was shaking as I filled out the mailing label. How pitiful is that? Well, pity me cause I'm gonna shake like a fool for the next couple of months.

I went and had it bound at Office Depot before I boxed it up and mailed it out. It looked so pretty!! If the publisher doesn't want it, maybe I'll just make a bunch of copies, bind them and send them out to friends. Just kidding (mostly).

I Lived It!

I finished the rewrite of my manuscript this evening. If all goes well, I'll send it out by Wednesday. One of the items the publishing company asked for was a resume. Um...I haven't "worked" for almost 11 years so I'm thinking they won't be terribly impressed with all the space left on the page where experience should be. However, if they wanted to know what I've been doing for the last eleven years...That would be a wee booklet, chock full of romance, adventure, danger, sadness, you name it. It would be an interesting read. For me anyway. Because in the words of PeeWee Herman "I lived it."

Which brings me to a random thought. I can't be the only person who quotes obscure movies at inappropriate times. I know I'm not because I had an A&P class with someone who shot random quotes at me. "Right turn, Clyde." (That one made me bust a gut.) So, if you're a random quote spewer, be proud! No longer hide in shame when someone looks at you blankly after a well placed quote. Remember, not everyone has the capacity for trivial knowledge. And "lots of people go to school for eight years." "Yeah, they're called doctors."

Maiden Post

Well alrighty.
There seem to be a lot of blogs out there. Especially devoted to writing. I got that picture when every catchy title I wanted to use for this blog had already been taken. I guess I'm showing up late for the party and all the guacamole is gone. Dang! That's okay though. I can't tell you how many accounts I have that I can't get into because I decided on a "cutesy" name that I promptly forgot.

On to business. I have written a book. Can I call it a book if it hasn't been published? (It's the details that always get me) At any rate, I have finished my first whatever you call it and am now preparing to send it to the first publishing company. I am totally excited (channeling my inner excitable puppy) while still trying to balance being realistic. It's not working. Oh well. So I guess, to anyone whose interested, come with me and let's see what we can learn.