Which Author’s Fiction are You?
Jane Austen wrote you. You are extremely aware of the power of a single word.
Take this quiz!
Andrew returned from camp on Saturday. On the drive back from “up north,” Bob put him on the phone. For the first time, Andrew didn’t sound younger than he is. In fact, for a second, I thought maybe his voice changed during that week he was away.
He had an incredible week. He earned two merit badges and a bunch of activity patches. He tried everything and was one of the few boys to wake up early for the polar bear swim.
He made everyone a present. Mine’s below:
He did so well on his own. Instead of feeling sad that my “little” boy doesn’t need me anymore, I’m both pleased and proud. He even kicked me out of the kitchen (sort of) yesterday and finished making the pancakes. Hey, he wants to take over the cooking, I’m all for it. Bring it on.
True, he neglected to brush his teeth for the entire week. And he did suffer an intense, but brief bout of homesickness over a drawing Kyra sent him (the two of them holding hands–she knows how to tug on heartstrings).
It’s good to have him home again. But it’s good to know he can go out and conquer the world (at least with his breath).
Andrew is at camp and I’ve been writing him a letter every day. I end by pasting in a picture I hope he’ll like: our dog, Sparky, Naruto, Pokemon. So, last night, after finding a nifty picture of Naruto and Saske (if you have to ask, you don’t need to know, trust me on this), I reached for an envelope.
There were none.
Zero, nada, nothing. I couldn’t even find the loathsome lick-it-yourself-to-seal variety.
This is tragic because at the end of May (that would be this May) I bought three boxes of 45 each. 3 x 45 = 135.
I used 135 envelopes between May and July? For real? I mean, I know the super secret double probation hotdish project took a lot, but still.
Unless, of course, envelopes are in collusion with socks, especially kid socks. That would explain a lot.
Noodler Trish Milburn got the call yesterday. She sold two young adult novels to Razorbill, the young adult imprint for Penguin Putnam. She’s a multiple Golden Heart finalist and winner. She’s been writing and submitting for eleven years. Whenever I get down, I always think of Trish and how long she’s been at it. Go on over and congratulate her!
For two nights, we’ve been watching Singin’ in the Rain. I’m afraid this wasn’t as successful as Much Ado About Nothing, although Kyra really liked it when anyone danced. Her favorite was the Donald O’Connor Make ‘Em Laugh number.
Then there’s this:
I’m not one to bemoan the “good old days.” Some were good, some not so good. But damn, doesn’t Cyd Charisse put today’s bobble-headed, tanorexic starlets to shame? She doesn’t just shame them, she kicks their scrawny, tanorexic butts. I want to hand people their hats this way.
She bulldozers Gene Kelly in this number, and he’s no slouch, let me tell you. Maybe it’s an age thing, but watching the movie this time around, I’m thinking good old Gene puts the “awe” in hawt. And I promise to stop spelling it that way, too.
The couch by day/bunk by night side of the Boler
The wood behind Kyra will eventually have a foam cushion. Scamp is coming out with new designs next month, so we’ve decided to wait on getting new covers for the cushions.
The opposite side, table by day, beds by night. Note Kyra has already made herself at home.
Here you can see the new table that Bob built and part of the kitchen vanity, also that Bob built. And look, we now have windows! Even more privacy.
The outside with its installed window.
Coutesy of Jen:
You Are a Ham Sandwich
You are quiet, understated, and a great comfort to all of your friends. Over time, you have proven yourself as loyal and steadfast. And you are by no means boring. You do well in any situation – from fancy to laid back. Your best friend: The Turkey SandwichYour mortal enemy: The Grilled Cheese Sandwich
So, the other day, I was driving home. The car in front of me–not one of your newer cars, mind you–had spray painted on the back: $2,000 or a Hummer H2.
Do you think he had any takers?
The other day, also in the car, Andrew was musing about various aspects of life. He said, “Mommy, I can’t wait until I’m on one of those “where are they now” programs.”
And for the final act of random weirdness. I frequent an online writing site (as most of you know). Quite a while back, I was writing a ghost book. About five other people suddenly had their own ghost book, which was a little odd, but these things tend to happen in cycles. The weird part was, one book had a ghost named Charity.
That was a little weird.
Well, the other day, I was surfing about. I’m writing YA now. So what do I find? Another YA work in progress–with a character named Charity.
I guess it would be different if I had a more common name. But ending up in everyone’s works in progress is a little … weird.