Reading, Writing and Kettle Corn

I believe the last time we spoke, I was whining like a brat about how I missed writing, how I never have time to write, how I never get a moment to myself. Bla, bla and bla. Well, somehow, somehow I am currently on chapter 8 of my WIP. For someone with "no time to write", I'm not doing too shabby. So, I'll shut up. (For now.)

I also asked for book recommendations, and got some gems. Thank you, Amy Ellis *. How much do I love Gods Behaving Badly? Seriously, it's like Good Omens meets Melrose Place. I'm supposed to be reading a far more respectable book for my book club this month, but not sure if it's going to happen. Especially since I ping-ponging between God's Behaving Badly and Prom Dates from Hell, the first Maggie Quinn: Girl vs Evil book by Rosemary Clement-Moore. If Maggie ever had her own show, Joss Whedon would direct it. Yes, that's how good it is.

And, lastly, I just realized that it's Tuesday, so here are my favorite things this week:

Angie's Kettle Corn. I found a parachute sized bag of this stuff at Costco. On Thursday. And now it's almost gone. I don't get it. It's just popcorn, salt and sugar, yet it tastes like it's made completely of joy. Kettle corn's not fattening, right? I mean, it's mostly air, really.










My son. He's pretty much my favorite thing every week, but this week especially, because whenever I'm in the middle of doing something and the girl child starts howling like a banshee, he immediately comes to my aide and makes weird noises that make her giggle.
















The new white iPhone. I don't have one, but if someone were to buy me one, I would do a little dance. Like this....
















*Also, Ms. Ellis, do you realize you haven't updated your blog in a YEAR!? You know when I take over the world, you will be my evil sidekick, right? You might want to start flexing your "addressing the minions" muscles. Just sayin'. By the way, all global disputes will be settled with dance-offs. Hope that's okay w/ you.

(non-evil) Editor

I really, really, really, really, really miss writing.

I also miss sleeping, showering whenever I want, shopping without a panicky feeling that, at any moment, one or both of my children are going to have a thermo-nuclear meltdown, eating without juggling a fussy baby and going to the bathroom by myself.

But mostly I miss writing.

Yes, I get a little in here and there, mostly in little five minutes spurts while baby girl is in her bouncer/swing/walker/jumpy thingy. But five minutes is usually the most I can get out of her. In fact, as I type this, she's starting to go DEFCON 5 on me from the swing in the living room. Hold on....

And now I am holding her and typing with one hand.

<insert long, heavy sigh here>

Cue my awesome husband, who heard shit fit and heavy sigh from upstairs and came down to take baby girl up with him while he brushes his teeth.

So, anyway, I miss writing. A lot. Especially since I had an awesome editing experience recently and it lit a little flame under my tuckus. Through the Write Hope auction, I won a 10 page edit from a freelance editor. I decided to submit the beginning of my new book. I was suuuuuuuper scared. I've never anything of mine edited by a professional before, and though I knew she would be constructive (read: I highly doubted she'd simply write "you suck rocks" all over my submission), it was still very intimidating. But, it turned out to be so freakin' cool. She pointed out things that I would have never seen. The biggest being that my entire 2nd chapter is one big flashback, and though it was all fine and dandy, she strongly urged me to GET ON WITH IT ALREADY! It was like a little "ping" going off in my head. DUH! She was totally right. It's like being served a meal that looks yummy, and having the chef go on and on and on and on and on and on about what it is, what went into making it, and the whole time you just want them to shut up so you can eat it.

So, now I am pining for time to write so I can change things around and get on with the story. But, I must just be patient. On the bright side, I got a Nook for my birthday so I could hold fussy baby girl and read. But I need book suggestions. Know any good quirky, funny, kinda dark and slightly twisted books? That's what I'm in the mood for. Either YA or adult.

And now awesome hubby has to go to work and I'm back to typing with one had...i mean hand. *shakes single fist*

Favorite Things

First, let me tell you what is NOT my favorite thing this week: Spring. Because it's acting like Winter. Which I find really super lame and annoying. Also not at the top of my list: wind. And sinus infections. And I'm not exactly happy about the cat hacking up a hairball on my slippers. Which I wouldn't need to wear anymore if Spring would get a grip.

Now, for my favorite things.

The Woombie. Also known as the Baby Straight Jacket. Baby girl has crazy hands when she sleeps. If I put her down without being in the Woombie, she'll immediately wake up, punch herself in the face and pull her pacifier out. Then she gets mad at me.


















Duran Duran. Note - they are certainly not a new favorite thing by any stretch. But I saw them on Ellen yesterday and immediately became a 10 year old again. Why do they look so good? Since I've been fangirling them since I was eight, shouldn't they look old and I look all young and dewy?



















Friends*. Specifically ones who read my blog post from last week and dropped a care package on my doorstep, which included wine, chocolate and an almond torte that I had to stop myself from eating for every meal.














Zingerman's Chocolates. Thanks to aforementioned amazing friend's care package, I am now totally addicted to these things. I may have to change my muffin top to my Zingerman's chocolate top (thought, it doesn't quite have the same ring to it).









Feel free to share your favorite thing. Who knows, your favorite things might become my favorite things. And wouldn't that be something, eh?

*friends featured in this week's "favorite things" are not actually kittens. Cuz that would be really weird.

Feebs

This was my day in a nutshell

(sorry, the drawings are crude and hard to read. I'd fix them if Illustrator and I could get along, but we just can't. He's rude, doesn't save things the way I want them to be saved and he smells like tangy socks):

C is for "I Need a Vacation"

A few weeks back, my son had his special helper day at preschool, which means he gets to bring in a "special guest". And this "special guest" gets to provide a snack and spend the morning trying to keep handfuls of five year-olds from sticking paintbrushes in their ears. I'll be honest, I'm not the best at being the "special guest". Mostly because I'm too busy mainlining Purell and dodging sneezes to notice anything else. But I decided to go a little out-of-the-box for snack time. Instead of the usual cheese sticks or Goldfish crackers, I wanted to make these:
















That's right. It's Cookie Monster. Kickin' it old school with a cookie in his mouth. I was so excited about these. I saw the design on several different baking blogs and immediately had visions of being the coolest mommy ever, which would immediately trump my current status of being the weirdest mommy ever. But then something happened. I made them. Have you ever tried to make blue frosting? My only experience with blue frosting was at our wedding. We had a very whimsical wedding cake that had blue butter cream and white and yellow flowers. It turned everyones mouths blue, but luckily we had a margarita machine to take away any mouth-turned-blue trauma. Making blue frosting is a whole different beast. The blue food coloring was very ninja like. I thought I was being very clean and careful as I added it to the white frosting, but somehow it managed to breach my mixing bowl and end up FREAKIN' EVERYWHERE! It was on my hand, my clothes, the cabinet doors, my coffee maker, the floor...everywhere! There was even some of it smeared on my iPod which was upstairs on my dresser. Suddenly my visions of being coolest mommy ever turned to visions of being the most dreaded mommy ever. I imagined mobs of the other preschool parents dragging me out of my house and stringing me from a tree for turning their children a lovely shade of aqua. So, I had to ditch Cookie, in all his googly eyed glory. Much like getting on the treadmill or trying to wear skinny jeans, it was a good idea in theory, but a nightmare once executed.

In other news, despite my attempts at pulling one over on kid-germs and pumping my son full of vitamin C, echinacea and cod liver oil to try and get through the rest of the school year plague free, he came down with the mother of all colds, that quickly morphed into double ear infections and pink eye. The ear infections he can handle. A little "pink stuff" a couple times a day...no problem. But, have you ever tried to treat pink eye in a five year-old? It should just be illegal for a child that young to get pink eye. When you're an adult and you get pink eye, you can be rational about it. Yes, it sucks and now I have to put these drops in my eyes, and, yes, they're cold and sting and feel a little weird, but that's what I have to do to get better. You wouldn't cry and throw a fit and scream the same way you would if you were being chopped to bits by a maniac intruder. You know you're in trouble when the actual pamphlet from the pharmacy advises you to SIT on your child and pin his arms down to administer the medication. I'm not really a "sitting on my child" kind of parent, so, of course, I tried bargaining. I promised waffles and LEGO sets if he'd just lay still and let mommy put the ookey stuff in. I quickly learned that a five year-old is a big fat liar and will renege on any waffle/LEGO agreements at the last minute. Then I tried to scare him. I got all "fire and brimstone" on him, telling him if he didn't get the medication his head would fall off and he'd end up in the hospital where they'd give him shots every five seconds. This didn't work either, as it only made him freak out more. I quickly realized that the pamphlet from the pharmacy was wise beyond its years. The only real option is brute force. Now, don't get all judgey on me. I don't really use brute force, but I do have to hold his arms down and pry his eyes open. Then I'm "mean mommy" for about an hour after. The best part? I get to do this every four hours for seven days.

Please leave all wine/chocolate/cake donations at my front door. Thanks.

Favorite Things

It's Tuesday, and you know what means!

Actually, you don't. Since Thing 2 gives me barely any time to write, I haven't had a chance yet to introduce my newest segment, Favorite Things. Every week I'll tell you about my new favorite things. Because I know how I complete you.

So, my Favorite Things this week are:



















Anne Burrell. Because she can cook her kooky little butt off. Plus, she salts the CRAP out of her food. Good on ya, Anne. Good on ya.
















Kuerig Platinum Coffee Maker. I don't actually have one, but a friend of mine does, and although the coffee purist in me wants to turn my nose up at it, the geek in me is drawn to it. Because...it's NEATO!! You just put the little pod in and hit go. And, yes, I'm going to say it...it makes a damn fine cup of coffee. Plus you only need one hand free. And it gets me one step closer to feeling like I'm on the Enterprise.



















My mom. Because she's visiting and takes Thing 2 off my hands so I can do the things that bring me warm fuzzies, like cooking and writing and taking showers. Plus, she leaves her Facebook account open so I can go in and leave funny status updates, and make her "like" thing she doesn't really "like", like Fabio and David Hasselhoff.

Write-Hope. A fabulous blog started by a handful of kidlit writers who want to help the children in Japan after the devastating tsunami. They auction off kidlit books, critiques, and other prizes for donation to Save the Children's emergency relief fund. I'm gunning for an early copy of Carrie Harris' debut novel Bad Taste in Boys, but feel free to try and outbid me!

What are your favorite things this week?

Thing 2

Yes, yes, it's been over 3 months since I've blogged. But I have a very good excuse. Right now, I only have the use of one arm, because I have this in my other arm:


















Ain't she pretty? She's made completely of awesome. I know this sounds stupid to say, but I love her. Like, fan-girl love her. If there was mass marketing around her, I'd buy every t-shirt, bumper sticker, bobble-head and mechanical pencil. She'd be my set station on Pandora. If she was on TV, I'd set my DVR to record every episode. She'd be ring tone, my avatar, my hashtag.

I felt this way about my son, too, but since I was a new parent, it was interlaced with bouts of paranoid delusion. My inner monologue sounded a bit like this:

He pooped, oh my god, what do I do, is it good poop, is it the right color, has he gone enough, the hospital said he'd got three to six times a day and, oh crap, he just made a weird noise, what does that noise mean, is he hungry, tired, uncomfortable, itchy, is it an early sign of ADHD or...holy shit, his eye just did a weird thing, is he having a seizure, oh, my god, how do I know if he's having a seizure, I'd better google "baby eye weird seizure" and, oh mother of god, he just moved his head and I heard a noise, did he break his neck, should we call the hospital, I think we should call the hospital, his arm looks weird, is that a normal arm, what if it falls off or what if he has some weird arm disorder, oh, god, it's 3am, should I page the pediatrician, or maybe I'll just google "baby weird arm falling off"...

Luckily with each child, you become less and less of lunatic.

But, as awesome as she is, she doesn't yet support my need to write (hence the 3 month delay in updating my blog and cricket sounds in my "Poo Lives" folder). I attempted to do NaNo for about five minutes, because, yes, yes, I have ideas....so many ideas!!!! But for now, they'll have to just bob around aimlessly until I can a) convince baby girl that napping in her crib as opposed to on my shoulder is a super neat-o idea, b) get her to see that writing gets mommy to her happy place without the use of wine and/or Clive Owen movies and c) convince her that writing could possibly lead to success which could lead to riches which could lead to lots of shoes for her.

Wish me luck...