Going out on a limb

I need some feedback on my scene that I'm going to enter in a contest, so I asked for some volunteers on my mommy message board to read it. I'm either desperate, feeling brave or hellaciously confident. Why? Because my mommy board is like the Pink Ladies of the internet. (Am I getting the pop culture reference right?) They can be harsh and direct and tell it like it is. Brutal at times. But they are also a bunch of good people, and hopefully will help me out without whipping me too bad.

But I don't want the entire board to know that I'm an aspiring writer, because then every time I have a typo or misspelled word or misplaced comma, I'll get mocked for it. Bitches. lol

Mommy, how do babies get here?

Holy crap, I wasn't ready for that. And right at the dinner table, too. Leave it to Ellie. The manwhore just looked at me and smirked. Damn him.

But, I calmly answered that they grow in a mommy's tummy and when they are ready to be born, they usually come out through her vagina. Which lead to Emma asking where that was (like I've never told them before) and her trying to point hers out to us. She asked if it was the same hole that the poop came out of, and I told her no, it was between the pee hole and the poop hole (The manwhore interjected "And from now on, we shall call it the baby hole!" Dork.)

Ellie asked if you had to go to the hospital to get the baby out, so we told that some people have babies at home and some at the hospital. And that lead to sometimes you need an operation to get the baby out safely, which led to talking about them being premature and how tiny they were and how big Sam was.

I was very relieved that we didn't have to get into how the baby gets in the mommy's tummy just yet. I'm not sure I'm ready for that one.

But pee holes, poop holes and baby holes, all at the dinner table last night. Someone hold me.

I am so arrogant

Since I have a partial manuscript sitting on the desk of an editor at Harlequin, I've been reading Harlequin romance novels lately. I don't generally read them, as I prefer the big, fat historical novels or Nora Roberts. But, I felt I needed read some so I would know what Harlequin is doing these days.

Here comes the arrogance. The handful of novels I've read have reminded me of one of the reasons I wanted to write romance novels in the first place. I finish one and find myself thinking "I can write better than that."

Now, God only knows if it's true or not, since no one is reading my writing except me, but it certainly gives me a nice little ego boost and a little push to keep on writing and polishing and all that. So maybe one day some teenager will read one of my books and think "Damn, I can write better than this crap!" and she'll grow up and become one of the next generation of romance writers. lol

You'd think I'd learn

I spent yesterday outside, at least for several hours. Unfortunately, we didn't get to play with the horses, because D's truck broke down and we spent 2 hrs in the TSC parking lot while her dear friend replaced a radiator hose.

That fixed, we went to her place and repair a section of fence so she can turn the horses out in the back pasture.

I had on a sleeveless shirt. See where this is going? Only, this time, I remembered the sunscreen. I really did. But I apparently missed the top of one shoulder, because it is sort of crispy. Ow.

Really, I'm not fond of skin cancer or wrinkles, I've got to do better with the sunscreen.

Men should have to try menstruating sometime

Don't ask me how to make a man menstruate, I haven't a clue. But I think sometimes they need to experience it once or twice.
Let me start all this by saying that most of the time, I actually don't mind having periods and the hormonal swings don't seem to bother me too much. But occasionally it gets to me. Yesterday was one of those days.

We're laying bed last night and I just want to go to sleep because I hit the floor running when I got out of the bed yesterday. Preschool, horses, ride to the co-op with my friend, pick up kids, back to the horses for lessons, straight from there to soccer, all of my meals were late, my back was aching and I started my rag yesterday. And he asks me if there is something wrong. rofl

Wrong? NO, THERE'S NOTHING WRONG, WHY DO YOU ASK? YOU TRY BLEEDING OUT OF YOUR CROTCH AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!

Ok, I didn't yell, but I did say that to him. I mean, honestly, first there is the flood of estrogen, then you ovulate and have a flood of progesterone for two weeks that can causes pimples and bloating and moodiness. If you didn't get knocked up, the progesterone crashes and you get the resulting more moodiness and then your period.

And despite what the manufactures claim, there is nothing in existence designed to catch, absorb or otherwise contain menstrual blood that is 100% comfortable. You can either use pads, which feel like wearing a diaper, or stick something in your hoohaw. Sticking something in my hoohaw is my choice. Being the wanna be hippy, treehugging reduce, reuse and recycle type that I am, I use a diva cup. www.divacup.com Don't go there if you get grossed out by alternative menstrual products.

But, it's by far the most comfy thing I've ever used, and it's still not perfect. After all, there is something crammed in my vajay-jay for roughly 5 days. Of course I know it's there.

But really, men should have to experience this. It would be enlightening and eyeopening for them. Now, how to manage it?

The promised picture

The Samster the Whamster in his new glasses.

Horsey go boom!

So, I spent yesterday doing horse stuff like I do every Saturday that I can con, um, convince the manwhore to keep the kids. I rode with D to go pick up her newest boarded, a lovely older palomino gelding named Sonny. Ellie is going to love him, I think.

After we got back, I had some time to work with Reno. I went through the 7 games (Parelli stuff) with him and had him go over a jump just before time for me to go. After he jumps, I'm supposed to ask him to stop, turn, and look at me. Only, he "hides his heiney" with a really gentle ask, and I accidentally asked him really harshly. He skittered his back feet around to get his butt away from me, and his feet slipped and went out from under him. He completely fell over. I was completely horrified and still feel like a heel for making him fall.

He's ok, and he was paying more attention to me after that, though. lol


After I made the horse fall down, I went on home and the family all went to a Nashville Sounds baseball game (minor league). The girls had won free tickets for us reading 20 books in a month. I was actually really looking forward to it and we started off having fun. Then we got our meal deals (hot dogs and stuff) and went to one of the picnic areas to eat and realized that the wind was really blowing. We had two plates to blow over and the contents of said plates were 50 ft away before anyone could even get up to chase them. But, we finished and went on back to our seats. The wind wasn't so bad there because the stadium was blocking most of it. So, we're having fun again.

Then the temps start to drop. I was so cold I made the manwhore go search out where people were buying Sounds sweatshirts. He came back with 2. lol They were selling them at 2 for $25, or 1 for $15. I put one on and used the other for a blanket.

Better, but I was still cold. At the 6 inning, I said I couldn't stand it anymore and we had to go. The kids were all relieved to go. At least the girls were. Sam wanted to stay and go out on the field and play baseball himself.

He might have been an improvement, because the Sounds got their butts kicked.

What the hell is up with my weight?

I'm gaining weight and I don't know why. I've gained about 4 lbs in the last few weeks and now I can't get it to budge. I swore when I got under 200 lbs I would never go over it again, and here I am at 207 this AM and have been over 200 for months now. Unless I am just fooling myself, I haven't changed my eating habits, and I've been so active this week I've been sore everyday.

So, why is the fat on my ass not budging? I'm determined to find out, though. I signed up at www.fitday.com (it's free) and I'm going to eat normally and track my calories and see how much I really am eating.

The manwhore joined Weight Watchers a few weeks ago and he's doing really well, so I'm extra motivated now. It was a bit of a shock to hear him say that his goal weight is less than I weigh now.
I refuse to gain any more weight! I refuse to be fat!

Also, I refuse to be so fat I can't haul my fat ass up onto the back of a horse. Yeah, that was embarrassing.

A sure sign that spring is finally here

I have my first sunburn. I do this every year in March or April when it finally warms up and stops raining. I get desperate for some sunlight, so I spend the first warm day outside all. day. long. And I forget every damned year that doing that = sunburns. Fortunately it isn't a bad one and doesn't hurt. Just enough to remind me to pull out the sunscreen and start using it again.

But, it was a glorious day yesterday, and worth a little sunburn. We went to the park and then came home and worked in the yard all afternoon. I'm digging a new flowerbed out by the mailbox. The manwhore is probably going to croak when he sees me digging another one on the other side of the driveway, too. But, I neeeeeeeed some places to plant sun loving flowers, not just the shade gardens I have up by the house. I neeeeeeed to garden. I need some plants and the smell of dirt and flowers that are growing because of me. I really do. And I can't wait to go to Home Depot or Lowes and start stocking up on flowers this spring.

Little Four Eyes

See that blog in my side bar called Little Four Eyes? --->
I've been invited to post on it by the lady that started it. It is all about little kids and their adventures with glasses. Give it a read occasionally.

PS I swear I will get a picture of Sam in his glasses up this weekend. Cross my heart, and all that.

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.