Glasses and little kids

So, the boychild got glasses last week. He's only 2.5, so I was a little heartbroken for him.

We'd noticed a couple of months ago that he squinted at the TV and computer and books, but he didn't seem to have trouble recognizing things that were far away, so really we weren't sure he was going to need them. Then, his preschool teachers noticed he was squinting, too.

So, off we went to the pediatrician, knowing they were just going to give us a referral. It took us a month to get in with the pediatric ophthalmologist, which really isn't too bad for a specialist. His appointment was last week, so at 7:15 in the morning, we set off for the office in Franklin. We seemed to be the first patient there, and were seen very quickly. The nurse dilated his eyes, which set the tone for the rest of the appointment, ie crying and whining.

Honest to god, though, I'm not 100% sure just how the doctor figured out what Sam's prescription is. The doctor stuck a toy in his mouth and held up different lenses to Sam's eyes and looked through them with his light thingy. Voila! Prescription done.

And, it's as bad as mine. Coke bottles, that is. He doesn't have the astigmatism like I do, yet, but who knows what the future holds.

We left the office and headed to Target to check out their optical dept, which probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world, but I was in "gotta go get glasses mode" and not thinking. Cranky boy cried and fought the entire time, but I picked out some frames and the patient lady working there got a fit, so we were good to go.

They had to send them off, like they do mine, but the glasses were back in only 2 days. Yippee!

So, he's wearing them. He's not crazy about them, and I sympathize, because I'm not crazy about mine, but he's wearing them.

If the manwhore will ever download the pictures I took, I'll post one. He really is cute with them on, but I hate that he has to wear them.

It's in the mail

I can't believe it really. I mailed my first requested bit of manuscript to an actual editor at an actual publishing company. It was sort of anti climactic to leave it at the post office. I wonder how fast she will actually get around to reading it and either making an offer or rejecting it?

Writing is the easy part

Cover letters, synopsis and international mail, oh my!

Seriously, I've written a 216 pg, 58,009 word book. How hard can it be to write a 2-3 page synopsis and a 1 page cover letter? Well, let me tell you, it ain't easy. I've dithered over them for over a week now. I've finally got them finished, I think.

It makes me nervous knowing I need to sound all professional and shit, and when I am nervous about my writing, it gets all formal and "yes, I'm an English major-ish". You know what I mean, the stuffy, pretentious, too many big words and long, complex sentences. Which is a totally different style from my casual, folksy contemporary novel style. Yet, everything you read about submitting your work to an editor stresses that this is the first example of your work the editor will see, blah, blah blah. Way to make me even more nervous about it.

But, they are done, and if I can get some envelopes and stuff, I'll get all this crap in the mail today or tomorrow. Yay!

Then I can turn my back on it for a few weeks and work on my next book.

The things we do so our kids will get the cool curly straw.

So, um, sorry about the junk mail some of you people will be getting soon. The girls' school is begging for magazines or something, and sent home this stupid booklet for us to fill up with addresses of people for them to torture, I mean, solicit. And of course there was a cool little prize involved for the kids if the parents spent the time filling the damned thing out.

So, some of you will be getting a thing in the mail begging you to subscribe to magazines to help out their school. Do what you want with it. Toss it, shred it, burn it. I don't care. Of course, if you are in need of a magazine and order one, that would be lovely, but don't feel obliged.

Forgive me for adding to the junk mail, but if your kids ever need people to mail crap like that to, you are more than welcome to mail one to us.

Did I mention my phone call from the real, live Harlequin editor?

I don't think I did. Did I mention that a real, live editor from freaking Harlequin publishing called me?!?! Me! Ok, so she called because a major ice store caused her to miss my RWA chapter's annual retreat, at which she was supposed to be one of the special guests. But still, she called my house and spoke to me.

I confess I spent pretty much the entire morning sitting at my desk staring at the phone. When it rang, I almost ran away. lol

She was very nice, which is a damned good thing, because the boychild apparently became demon possessed the second the phone rang and spent the entire time pitching one more hellacious shitfit. I went in my room and shut the door and then into the bathroom and shut that door to get away from the sound of his screaming.

So, the screaming kid had me all flustered, and I blathered all over the place like a bloomin' idiot and at times I'm sure I sounded too stupid to string sentences together, much less write an actual book.

But, she really was very nice, because SHE ASKED FOR THE FIRST THREE CHAPTERS AND A SYNOPSIS!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, I'M GOING TO HAVE AN EDITOR READING MY WORK! Someone hold me!

I've been in such a state of shock, that I haven't even looked at the manuscript since then. I told her it was out with my critique partner (hurry up and finish reading Mom!) and could I have a few weeks to get it back, so I'm not on a deadline, yet. But I don't want to take more than a week or two to get it in the mail, since it has to go to Canada.

But Oh My God!

What rhymes with bit?

We're horrible parents, really. We're going to that special section of parent hell reserved for parents who laugh at stuff they aren't supposed to laugh at.

The girls are working on rhyming words at school and we're practicing them at home. At supper I was giving them a word and they would yell something that rhymed. It went something like this:

Me: "What rhymes with Ellie?"
Them: "Belly! Smelly!"

"What rhymes with door?"
"Floor!"

"What rhymes with bit?" (I just had to go there, didn't I?)
And Emma yells "Shit!"


The manwhore and I cracked up. I laughed so hard I had tears running down my face and I almost fell out of my chair. We're awful, aren't we? I know I shouldn't have laughed, but she was so proud of herself for thinking of a word and yelled it so loud, I was a goner.

I sort of half way hope that she has the opportunity to tell her teacher that shit rhymes with bit, though.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I mean seriously, this is not me. I do not cry over shit. Yet here I am, crying about practically everything today. I wrote an email to my friend D about the horse and cried through the whole thing. She emailed me back and I cried while I read it. Then she called me to talk about Reno, and I was crying the entire time we were on the phone. WTF? I have a cold, too, so I'm really hoping she didn't notice.

But, the good news is, I seem to have completely misunderstood her on Sat, because apparently it isn't that Reno's owner doesn't think I can handle him, but she wants to meet me and show me his quirks and all before we all sign a contract. Which is perfucktly fucking reasonable, and yet I'm still crying over it.

Now, if someone would just call me and tell me the rejection letters from the charter school were a mistake, maybe I'd be all hunky-dory. rofl

Ok, Seriously

I don't think I can take much more. I'm am just about ready to melt down into a puddle on the floor. To recap, my in-laws hate me, we've had 2 funerals this past week, right?

Add to that, we applied to the local charter/magnate school for El and Em, and they didn't get in. WTF? I'm not saying I think my kids are all RARE and special, but they've done most of a year of kindy readiness, which is basically like kindergarten. They should have been ahead of the typical 4 yr old kid applying for kindy at the charter school, unless the typical 4 yr old is a genius or something. So, now I'm worried that something is going on with them that I'm not seeing. I mean, one of them is freaking reading, and the other one is starting to. What more does the damned school want?

And apparently I'm more upset about it than I realized because I had a dream last night that I actually went to the school and was stalking the teachers that did the screenings to find out what El and Em's scores were and why they didn't get it. lol

Adding yet more, my friend D that boards horses told me yesterday that Reno's owner doesn't think I can handle him, and she isn't sure she wants me working with/riding him. This one got me the most. I was crying about it last night when I went to bed. I've been so freaking excited about Reno, and it just felt like a slap in the face. I think D must have told her I don't have a lot of experience riding, which I don't, and know she's worried I'm going to mess her horse up or something. Supposedly he's spooky and she's worried I'll fall off or something.

But, he's her horse, not mine, so if she doesn't want my riding him, I won't. But I'm not paying for his farrier and worming, either.

And, I have a phone appointment with an editor from Harlequin on Wed. I'm not sure I can handle anything else right now.

Its thundersnow!

We're having a "Winter storm event" here in middle TN. We're supposed to get form 2-6inches of snow tonight. After supper, the manwhore and I were sitting at the table talking when there was a big flash of lightening and a boom of thunder. There was another boom of thunder a few minutes later. Then there was hail, or really huge sleet one. I'm not sure if the temp has reached 32F yet, but it will at least be all frozen over in the AM, even if we don't get much snow.


I confess I chickened out on the GA funeral. The manwhore ended up just going down on Tue for the service and came home afterwards. We all headed off to AL for my great uncle's funeral. It was very nice, but good lord at the big wigs that were there. I bought a pants suit to wear, the first one I've ever owned. I guess that makes me a grown up, finally.

I learned things I didn't really want to know about my granddaddy and his brother, though. Like granddaddy apparently had a heart attack after some particularly rambunctious sex with his second wife. EW!. And after he died a couple of years later, his brother, the one that just died, had an affair with her, too. EW, EW! Too. Much. Information!

I need a drink

My inlaws hate me. We've had two deaths in the family. And now Em has strep throat, and we've all been exposed. One of these days you'd think we'd figure out that sharing drinks is not a good idea.

At least I have a valid excuse for missing the manwhore's great-uncle's funeral.

On being a steel magnolia

I am in danger of loosing my status as a steel magnolia, I fear. Steel magnolia is a term used to describe Southern women who looked delicate and beautiful on the outside and are as strong as steel on the inside. I like to think of myself like that.
But, in the wake of all this shit with the manwhore's parents, I'm not feeling very strong right now. His great uncle Fred died yesterday, and my great uncle Raymond died today, so we've got two funerals in two days in two different states. And I'm going to have to face his parents.

The idea is making me sick. I just want to go puke. And I want to stay here and curl up into a little ball and cry instead of making that trip to Georgia tomorrow.

Steel magnolia my ass. More like a glass magnolia. Paper magnolia, even. Hell, maybe even a fog magnolia.

LOOK!!!!!

OMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!! Look what I have! He's mine, all mine! Well, for the next four months. I'm leasing him, and even that is only half a lease, but still he's half mine. His name is Reno, and he is a 10 yr old Arabian. And he is fucking gorgeous and I am over the damned moon. This is the first horse that has ever been in any shape, form or fashion mine. Even if it is only a four month lease, and I'm sharing the lease with someone else.
His owner is a level 3 Parrelli student, so he knows a lot of "tricks." She is going to train my friend D's horse in exchange for the board and we are going to pay for his farrier and worming in exchange for working with him. The plan/hope is that because Reno will be easy to work with, I can get through level 1 quickly, and maybe level 2, as well.

But he's a horse and he's gorgeous and he's mine for four months! I am verklempt!