At long last, the plot for our next book, as provided by my seven-year-old daughter (AKA the marvelous Miss B). Here’s the premise:
A girl has four (!) boyfriends:
The title for this magnum opus?
Boy Trouble
Yes, I think that (almost) goes without saying.
But seriously, this thing is going to write itself. Write. Itself.
Okay, since I work for as a technical writer for a software company, the day job has always been a little geeky. Yesterday, it got a little more so.
Our tech writing compatriots in the Manila branch created T-shirts for all the writers. On the back are haiku-like sayings, based on job/personality (or so I’m guessing). Here’s mine:
I’m not actually sure what this says about my personality, but I like it. Other favorites include:
XML, CSS, CMS, HTML, XHTML, XSL-FO, PDF, TIFF, GIF
Alphabet soup
Makes me nauseous
Not to mention:
The haughty reviewer
Demands to see the document
I send an XML file
He has no viewer
Vengeance is mine
And of course:
Young Jedi tech writer
His mind corrupted with unstructured Frame and the madness of Word
You must unlearn all you have learned
The last gets bonus points for the Star Wars reference. Very talented, our Manila tech writers.
And I, for one, plan to welcome our new, laundry-folding robot overlords.
Oh, it’s busy here at Chez Tahmaseb.
Last night, after Kyra’s ballet:
Today:
Sunday:
So, last night, the kids were squabbling. I wasn’t paying too much attention since it was one of those fights that eventually wears itself out, but apparently it was about which one of them was the bigger tattletale.
At one point, Andrew told Kyra: “You’re a snitch!”
She responded with, “Well, you’re a bitch!”
Cue the sound of brakes squealing. I’m pretty sure Andrew and my facial expressions were mirror images of each other.
“What did you say?” I asked Kyra.
Here’s the thing: She didn’t know and given our shocked reactions, didn’t remember. She was going for the rhyme. She could have easily called Andrew a ditch, or a witch, or some guy named Mitch.
She just went with the letter B.
Now, we’re not lax about language in our house, but we are open about it, at an age-appropriate level. So, naturally, the sort of conversation I have with Andrew about language (and I think it’s important to talk about such things) is much different from the conversation I’d have with poor Miss B.
We had a quick talk about why we don’t use that word. She’s aware of other words we don’t use, but I’m pretty sure this is one she hasn’t heard before, at least not in our house.
Then, very inappropriately, Andrew and I started to laugh. And had a hard time stopping. We probably should’ve left the room, since poor Miss B was so chagrined.
But then we cooked some scrambled eggs and pizza for dinner and all was forgotten.
Still, I’m eternally grateful they weren’t having the sort of conversation where Andrew might have called her a duck.
Just in case you forgot tomorrow is Valentine’s Day:
Oh, sure. I can see it now:
Hey, honey, I ditched the Godiva chocolates this year and got you disembodied arms that talk.
Because nothing says “I love you” like disembodied arms that talk. Is it just me, or is that ten different kinds of creepy?
Seriously, I picture these arms springing to life in the middle of the night while their unsuspecting recipient sleeps in his/her bed. Then, the slow-mo crawl across the floor with its fat Mickey Mouse fingers, up and onto the bed, the recorded message playing on a continuous loop until its meaning becomes tragically ironic.
Yeah. Nothing says Valentine’s Day like that.
One of my fondest memories growing up is visiting the library. We went every other week and left with gi-normous stacks of books, fingertips to chin stacks of books. This leads me to one of the guilty pleasures I have as an author: Visiting Worldcat.org-the world’s largest library catalogue.
And yes, predictably, I search on Geek Girl. Sure, it’s fun to see how many library systems Geek Girl is in, but what’s even more fun is seeing where she ends up.
So the other day I discovered that the National Library Board in Singapore has twenty four copies of The Geek Girl’s Guide to Cheerleading. Twenty four! In Singapore! Geek Girl is in New Zealand, too. (Hi, New Zealand!)
Geek Girl has also found her way into the Army Europe libraries. Once upon a time, I was stationed in Europe (more accurately, Germany) and I’m just tickled that Geek Girl now resides in a post library.
So, hello, Singapore, New Zealand, and the US Army Europe. And Geek Girl? Meet world.
I was going to write something profound and deeply moving today. Okay, I really wasn’t. Nevertheless, I was going to write something (such as word count on revision up 7,000 words this week).
Instead I think we could all use a break. The video below is quite possibly the funniest thing I’ve seen all week:
As the creator notes, it isn’t really Werner Herzog reading/interpreting Curious George, but that hardly matters. There are so many good lines, but I think my favorite are:
In short order, a monkey has bested seven adult men. This should give you a dim view of human potential.
Enjoy and happy Sunday!
First, let me tell you about the best thirteen dollars I’ve ever spent.
For Christmas, I bought Andrew a stand for his electric guitar. I don’t know what it is about having it out and perched on its stand, but he plays it all the time now. Maybe pulling the guitar from its case is simply too arduous, or it’s merely a case of out of sight, out of mind.
Guitar stand = best impulse gift idea ever.
Plus, guitar on stand looks really cool in our living room (yes, the living room; we’re informal, at best). I keep expecting Mick Jagger, Ric Ocasek, or Billie Joe Armstrong (pick your era—or in my case, it’s all three) to stroll in at any moment because the guitar looks so awesomely cool just sitting there.
I can hardly stand it.
Anyway, Andrew is a real classic rock kind of kid. He knows the opening to Smoke on the Water, and Sunshine of Your Love. Naturally, once he learns Stairway to Heaven, the trifecta will be complete.
So given this, it wasn’t all that strange when, on the way back from guitar lessons, the conversation turned to Van Halen.
Andrew: Mom, do you know this Van Halen song? It goes Na na na na Na Na.
Me: Is it Jump? Na, Na na na na na Na Na na na na.
Andrew: No, that isn’t it.
Me: Panama? Na na na Na na na na na na
Andrew (sighing): It doesn’t sound like that at all. It’s Na na na na Na Na.
I ran through my (admittedly) limited repertoire of Van Halen songs (and is it really a Van Halen song when they were fronted by Sammy Hagar? Or was David Lee Roth the worst thing to happen to Van Halen. Discuss on your own.).
Me (trying again): Well, can you remember any words?
Andrew: Actually, I’ve never heard a Van Halen song.
Me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We were in the driveway at this point, and OMG, y’all, I nearly drove into the garbage can.
Me (after a deep breath): Why are we having this conversation?
Andrew (after a giggle): Long, convoluted explanation involving a rerun episode of My Name is Earl.
Me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Andrew: And Mom, you really don’t know how to Na na na a song.
Me: I’m revoking your TV privileges.
What we did Christmas day:
More after the cut.
Writing Wrongs 