Jennifer Crusie's Blog, page 317

Random Sunday: How I Spent My Illness

I'm better. I can smell things again. I can taste. I'm not blowing my nose every fifteen minutes and thinking about killing myself just so I won't have to hold a Kleenex for the rest of my life. But man, am I behind in everything. EVERYTHING. You do not want to see my sink (my dishwasher is broken) or my laundry room (you can't do laundry while holding a Kleenex in one hand) so that has to be addressed soon, especially since I can smell things now. So here are some of the things I learned while I couldn't get out of bed because that's where the Kleenex was:

I found this:

"The average man does not get pleasure out of an idea because he thinks it is true; he thinks it is true because he gets pleasure out of it. " — H.L. Mencken

And then I wondered if that didn't explain a lot about politics. Both sides.

A "push gift" is what a woman gets for giving birth. Apparently Victoria Beckham got a solid gold iPhone. I'd yell at my ex-husband about this, but our daughter is in her late thirties, and he's been married to another woman for thirty years, so I think that ship has sailed. Also, who wants a solid gold iPhone? But I did deserve a push gift (twenty-four hours of labor followed by a C-section in a military hospital) so I'm thinking it's never too late to gift yourself. Now to decide on what would be appropriate. Possibly ridiculously over-priced appliances for a cottage in NJ. Possibly not, since I'll be the one paying for them. Decisions.

Gawker says that college applications now ask things like "What's your favorite movie?" and "If you had to wear a costume for a year, what would it be?" Big Trouble in Little China was an easy one, but the costume took awhile. Then I decided "Catholic Schoolgirl" just to screw with people's heads since I'm 62. "I got held back a lot." They must be good answers: I have a BS, an MA, an MFA, and I'm ABD on the PhD. Although maybe if my answers had been better, I wouldn't be ABD. Should have gone with the Wonder Woman costume.

Rick Perry made a homophobic video ad, and that ad now has the highest number of dislikes in YouTube history, including mine. I'm trying to figure out if this is an application of the Mencken Rule, that Perry likes the idea of fighting against the godless who want to keep children from praying in school (you can pray in school, you just can't pray loudly and scare the horses), seeing himself ride into town to THINK OF THE CHILDREN and save the day, or if he's just a homophobic twit who won't ever be ready for primetime. Or both. Because whatever your feelings on the issue are, this is a bad, bad political move. OTOH, he's getting a lot of YouTube views. Name recognition!

You know how some ads are so persuasive that you think, "I must have that," and you buy it, and then twenty-four hours later you realize it's terrible and hate yourself for being roofied by Madison Avenue? I've just had the opposite experience. There's a prescription nasal spray TV ad I loathe–"Omnaris, TO THE NOSE"–but it turns out the stuff is really good (please note: I have both hands on the keyboard, no Kleenex). Just don't make me watch that terrible, terrible commercial. I almost refused the med when the doc gave it to me because I think bad advertising should be punished, but I only had one hand free, so I was weak and gave in.

I love Elvis's "Such a Night." It's on the Lavender soundtrack and it's exactly what I want Liz's romance to be, enthusiastic and unforgettable with great rhythm. Which pretty much sums up all great romances, I think.

I had my yearly mammogram last week. The girls are in perfect health, thank god, but it's always a bit of a worry. Because of more information than you want to know, they read the films right away, and then I talk to my gynecologist, whom I see once a year for five minutes, and who couldn't pick me out of a line-up, even if it was all breasts, which is good since I do not want to be memorable after any test. But there's always that moment of doubt when I'm waiting in the examining room in a cheap pink shirt with two completely inadequate ties at the chest, thinking Is this my year? The mammogram is the one appointment I don't try to avoid because, honey, it takes five minutes tops and it can save your life. Yes, there's the squish factor, but as I said, five minutes vs. your life. Also, I'm very fond of the girls. We've had some good times together, and you should take care of your friends.

Speaking of films, they don't use films any more and haven't for a long time, it's all done by computer. So why do doctor shows always have people reading films? As my tech said, "Some hospitals still do that, but I wouldn't want to be treated there." Except for vets. Vets still use film because of the cost, as I learned when Lyle broke his wrist.

Speaking of Lyle, he's still doing pretty good. His numbers went up again, but he's still going strong. He's curled up beside me, under the blanket, living the Perfect Dog Life with the four members of his pack. Fingers crossed we can keep this going because he really is the sweetest dog.

I did manage to catch up with some new TV while I was blowing my nose. Well, new to me. I just discovered The Big Bang Theory which is in its fifth year, I think. I'd watch that for Mayim Bialik alone: her Amy Farrah Fowler is not only a perfect match for Jim Parson's Sheldon, she's a master at deadpan humor. Also, I love the theme song. Favorite line: "We built a wall." This is not one of Alastair's and Lani's faves; they prefer Community, which I have tried to like but cannot get into. I think it's because they're basically intellectuals who really groove on post-modernism, and I'm a low rent kind of gal who snorts Diet Coke out her nose when somebody shoots meatloaf into the ceiling. Not that that ever happened.

I do like one new show, Grimm, but that's mainly because of Silas Weir Mitchell's Monroe, the werewolf. At the moment, everybody in Grimm except Monroe is way too Mary Sue (well, Monroe and Aunt Marie, who owned an Airstream that was a supernatural library and kicked ass right to the end), but I'm hoping the rest of the cast either gets grittier or gets offed by a fairy tale character, especially the vet girlfriend whose job is to be supportive, perky, understanding, and thin; if she's still on by episode six, I'll be rethinking my viewing. David Greenwalt from Buffy/Angel fame is producing and he does dark snark very well so there's hope I'll see her stuck to the ceiling Supernatural-style yet.

A new show I'm not understanding is Once Upon A Time. Trying to avoid spoilers here, but I don't get the Evil Queen's Curse (that's no spoiler, the Evil Queen always curses somebody). I don't understand how it benefits her. I don't understand why the baby aged twenty-eight years and everybody else is still the same age they were in the beginning. I don't understand why everybody else hasn't noticed that they're not aging. But I've only seen the pilot. Maybe it gets better. I'm good with unanswered questions after a pilot episode, but not confusion as to what the hell is going on after the pilot thinks it's explained everything. Twin Peaks' kind of questions are good. This one, not so much.

You know what show started off good and keeps getting better? White Collar. I rewatched some of the old episodes and boy do they hold up. Then I reread Bet Me, trying to jump start my writing and realized that if Matt Bomer were a little bulkier, he'd be Cal.

I don't know who thought that changing Cee Lo's song to "Forget You" would be pretty much the same as the original, but it's not. I love that song. Some days, it's all I sing. But I do not sing, "Forget You."

My current obsession is paper punches. You know, those things in scrapbook stores that will punch shapes out of paper? There's one I want that's frog-shaped. The only place I can find it is the Frog Store. Yes, there's a Frog Store. You can find anything on the internet. Because it has a lot of tubes. This one is good, too. I WANT a frog punch. Maybe two. Why? Don't question genius, people, it has its own needs.

In other shopping discoveries, I may have found the perfect gift for Alastair. Krissie got him Superman shorts for his birthday (I was going to get him The Flash shorts, but that seemed mean) and I've been trying to match up to her brilliance ever since. I think this is it, But then I picture a six-foot-four bald Scotsman in it and my courage falters. I have to live with this guy. Although I could get Lani this. Hmmmmm.

Speaking of Alasltair, he dragged all the Christmas stuff out of the attic for me, and I went through it. Why I have six big boxes of Christmas stuff is beyond me (not to mention seven Christmas trees), so I went through and culled. Twenty-four hours have passed, so I'm going to cull again. I'm moving to a very small cottage by next Christmas; there's a limit to how much holly I'm going to haul across state lines. One thing I'm keeping: the little Christmas tree Mollie and I bought together one year after we decided we weren't going to bother with a tree. We were being very cool about it (she was a teen at the time) and then we saw this little tree in a gift shop, stuck in a heavy Mexican ceramic vase, and we both caved. It's a cheap little tree, but I love it the way Charlie Brown loved his tree. That tree's goin' to NJ.

Speaking of NJ, the cottage was painted while I was sick. Remember how ugly the back was? It's now this gorgeous buttercream color, and it's getting a blue roof next week. So pretty. Now all it needs is plumbing, electricity, heat, a septic system and walls (it's gutted, remember?). One thing at a time. Or as my bank account says, "Not now." I would show you the window to Krissie's Room (every house I have has a "Krissie's Room") because it has charm out the wazoo, but I'm not allowed to post pictures of the front.

Speaking of Krissie (not to mention Charm Out the Wazoo), she and Lani and I are doing a series of chats on different aspect of writing, to be brought to you in January because they have books coming out and I have a e-book collection of short stories and they all need to be promoted, but I don't like exploiting the Argh People, so we're talking about writing instead and just using the books as examples. Subtle, huh? Yeah, I didn't think so, but the chats are pretty good. Writing rom com, writing the supernatural, great heroes, good stuff. Really. Stay tuned.

There was more, but I wrote it down on something and lost it, and I have to go hit the nose drops now (TO THE NOSE), so I'll just say that it is a HUGE relief not to be so damn sick any more. I'm still wheezing and coughing, but I am much, much better and can now get back to work. Which is good because there are big things coming up in January including the PopD Mystery Series and a revamp of Cherry Forums and, please God, at least two books finished in 2012, plus a move to the Garden State. Nothing but good times ahead.

After I blow my nose.

Right Brain, Left Brain

From Mercedes Benz via Mollie.

Live-Blogging Thanksgiving at Squalor-on-the-River

So here's the story so far.

I was going home to my brother's house for the parents-niece-and-nephew-brother-and-sister deal. Lani's kids were having turkey with their dad so they were going to have pizza here. And previous to that, I had brought home the ingredients for about four Thanksgiving dinners because Scylla is cooking in You Again and people get shirty if I don't have the recipes later. I put the turkey in the sink to thaw (this was a week ago), took some anti-sinus meds, fell asleep, and left the turkey out for over twelve hours. This will kill people so I had to throw it out and buy another turkey two days ago, which I left in the fridge to thaw. Got all that?

Yesterday it became obvious that I couldn't take the bacteria home to meet the family, so I called and cancelled. No big deal; I had plenty of T-Day food and if I didn't get to it, I could have pizza with the Squalor family. So this morning at about 2AM I got the turkey out of the fridge. Still frozen solid. I put it back in the fridge and decided to cook later.

So I wake up this morning and Lani has e-mailed me: the kids had pizza twice yesterday and would really like some turkey. Do I have one? Yes, but it's frozen. So we're standing over the sink as I wrestle frozen innards out of the now thawing turkey, and she says, "You know, we should live blog this." And here we are. It's 12:09. Do you know where your turkey is? Because mine is sneering at me from the sink. Lani's blogging over at LucyMarch.com.

12:46

I have just had a religious experience with my new mandolin. Two pounds of potatoes sliced into perfect 1/8″ slices in about five minutes. Scylla would be so happy. This is for the potato-mushroom pie. Scylla will, of course, futz with the recipe if it turns out to be a winner, but we're going with following it to the letter for the first time. Lani is slicing mushrooms with a knife. She knows I have two new mandolins and yet she is slicing by hand. Luddite.

12:48

Turkey goes in to oven. Has to be basted every half hour. Pain in the ass.

1:57

Potato-Mushroom Pie is in fridge. Vegetables for stuffing are simmering in a cup of wine because I forgot and added 1/2 cup twice. So far, Lani has not hit the wine, but she did go up and get some of her own. Currently working on stuffing and the green bean casserole from hell. Martha usually knows what she's doing but this one is odd. Every five minutes, I blow my nose and wash my hands. Lani's weeping over the shallots. One damn thing after another. Next up: corn pudding, braised potatoes, sugar cookies, and three kinds of mashed potatoes. Scylla's on a role.

2:26:

Butter melting, parsley chopped, Lyle medicated, stuffing in fridge, and I could use a drink. But I can't because I have to cook. Lani says the kitchen smells amazing; I wouldn't know, damn it. I do know that everything we've made so far has half a stick of butter in it. Which is okay by me. Lani just said "Ow" and she's peeling potatoes, but she appears to be okay. Loving my potato peeler. She should try the mandolin. So much fun cooking with a sister. Just heard the kids giggling upstairs and Alastair saying, "Dude!" Good times.

3:31

Finally got to sit down. Deviled eggs are in fridge with green bean casserole, potato mushroom casserole, stuffing, turkey stock for gravy and a lot of butter and half and half. Frozen bread dough is thawing. Lani's making garlic mashed potatoes–her mash is the best–and just had a heart attack because she's supposed to add a full stick of butter to eight potatoes. Hell, we'd use more than that if they were baked. But she's fine now. A little wine, it's all better. Still haven't fed Lyle or done the sub-q, but he's happily roaming the kitchen so I'm not worried. He and Milton fought over one of Lani's green beans, so they must be marvelous. Life is good.

4:10

Rolls are tied into knots. Corn puddings are mixed and in pan. Turkey is basted and browning without foil, Lyle is sub-q-ed, potatoes are mashed, after a discussion on the difference between Idaho and russet potatoes (there is none; we googled). Lani's gone for awhile so it's quiet. I bet this place smells terrific. I wouldn't know of course. Reminds me; must go take a pill. . . . Okay, I'm back. This is really just the first run-through for the book. I'll start tinkering with the recipes later, trying to make them more Scylla-like, so for right now, it's mostly sensory memory. What it feels like to chop pepper and parsley, shove that butter under the skin of the turkey. But I can't really do the sensory memory thing until I get my sense of smell and taste back, so getting some basics down and doing T-day dinner at the same time is a good idea. God, I hope these anti-biotics work. I'm sick of being sick.

6:48

Dinner is over. Light said it was the best ever and really loved the turkey and gravy. Sweetness, who is anti-food, said it was pretty good. The green beans and the potato-mushroom thing were both disasters, but we'll keep trying. The kids are now in the living room watching Big Trouble in Little China, which should become a Thanksgiving tradition, Lani's washing up the rest of the dishes, and I'm sauteing carrots and celery to throw in to the pot with the turkey carcass to make more stock. Because you never have enough stock. And then I'm going to crawl into bed and count my blessings which are many and include Light playing the flute after dinner. It was a very good day.

Things I Like

It appears I have bacterial sinusitis. Bleah. However, I've been bitching about this enough, so time for some Happy Thoughts. Here are some thing I'm liking lately:

• Lee from Dancing Crow, who posted this in the comments:

"Jim Henson was said to have three general responses when a Muppet sketch got stuck: eat it, blow it up, or throw penguins at it."

From now on, I'm using that when I get stuck in a book. Expect penguins.

•The Dancing Crow blog. I should have mentioned that before. I used to stop by when Lee was doing a postcard a day–gorgeous things–but then I wandered off, probably looking for pie. The important point is that there are always beautiful things on there. The hippos are particularly good. I must make hippos now. Speaking of pie,

• This pumpkin pie. It's good:

• Michelle Watson from Arizona, who got drunk, drove on the sidewalk, and then kneed in the groin the cop who stopped her. That's all bad, and I disapprove strongly. But this is her mugshot:



I kind of love Michelle.

• A t-shirt from Think Geek that says, "Come to the dark side. We have cookies." I'm giving it to myself for Christmas. Speaking of t-shirts:

• Skreened, which will make any shirt you want for $20. They made five for me for Christmas presents, and the quality is excellent. You have no idea the power rush I got when I realized I could put ANYTHING I WANTED on there. Let's just hope the people who are getting them share my sense of humor.

• This laptop skin:



Something about that bird just makes me happy. Well something about all of Leontine Greenberg's work makes me happy.

The CDC. They may be the only people who can save me from the bacteria currently romping through my sinuses. Plus, they have an Emergency Preparedness and Response page for a Zombie Apocalyse. That's my kind of government. (Get the T-shirt here.)

• This dish drainer.



I know, it's ridiculous and over-priced, but is that a classy dishdrainer or what? Plus I'm not getting a dishwasher for the New Jersey house so this is actually a HUGE savings.

• Nerd Wars on Ravelry. I'm playing for Team UU, the Discworld team, and it's more fun than fiber arts should be allowed to be. This is one of my entries for this month's challenges:



For Pratchett fans, that Hex's mouse. Hex is the Discworld Supercomputer. It began as a series of tubes filled with ants and just evolved from there. Its most common user-error is "Out of cheese." So of course it has a mouse.

•The University of Leicester's Centre for Mathematical Modelling which in 2001 named its new supercomputer "Hex."

• Terry Pratchett. Because he thought up Hex and wrote Thief of Time and Going Postal and Good Omens and dozens of other books that enthrall and delight me every time I re-read them.

• Thanksgiving. I have one word for you: Gravy. (The recipe in Thanksgiving 101 is excellent.) Plus sharing good food with good people.

Enough about me. What makes you happy?

Lovely Owl

I'm sick (YES, I'm going to the doctor tomorrow). and I'm behind on everything, and all I want to do is crawl into bed and assume the fetal position with dogs, so you get this, which is the only thing that's made me feel better (so much for OTC meds):



Lovely Owls

The New Kid in Town

Welcome, Dinosaur Pants

I have a new grandchild, born at 11AM today (Monday the 14th). He was due on 11/11/11 but, like his grandmother, is a late arriver. I would tell you his name, but nobody on earth has this name, which means you could google for him and there goes anonymity, so instead I will call him by the name his three-year-old sister suggested when she learned there was a baby brother on the way: Dinosaur Pants. I like it. It has a ring to it. And as Lani says, the nickname is a natural: "Yo, Dino!"

But he's very cute and he's very healthy and we're all very happy. Welcome, Dinosaur Pants!

Nothing Interesting To Say

I'm working on the book. I'm cleaning house. I'm getting Christmas presents together. None of this makes for interesting blog posts. One thing: my microwave immolated itself. I put in a potato, hit the "Potato" button, go downstairs while it cooks and then several minutes later hear the smoke alarm go off. Run upstairs, kitchen filled with smoke, try to get the vent fan to work; Lani runs in yelling, "What? What?"; I open the door to see potato now a hollow charcoal shell, air makes charcoal burst into flame; Lani yells, "ALASTAIR!! FIRE!!;" I throw a cup of water on it saying, "I don't think this counts as a fire," Lani opens the window by the stove; I throw another cup of water on the flames; Lani says, "Go downstairs, this smoke is bad for your asthma;" I say, "No, I"m fine, no wheezing;" Alastair comes in; I say, "Really, no big deal" and throw another cup of water on the flames, extinguishing them; Alastair takes charcoal and plastic out of oven and discards them; I try to get the microwave to work and then go downstairs to check the circuit breaker but no dice; Alastair goes back upstairs to Sweetness who is having an asthma attack from the smoke; I tell Lani, "I don't mind getting a new microwave but this sucker is also the stove vent so it's going to take some installation;" Lani says, "I can do that, I've done it before;" I say, "With a vent?"; she says, "Sure;" I say, "And you yelled for your husband for a few flames in a microwave?" and it all goes downhill from there. My position on this is that I put the potato in and pushed "Potato" which should have resulted in a baked potato, so the fact that the microwave kept on going and immolated itself is not my fault. But I don't see how I can get a blog post out of that. And there's nothing else new. You'll just have to talk amongst yourselves until something happens here or I have a New Thought. Don't hold your breath.

ETA: Lucy/Lani's account of the experience is here. She's much more thoughtful about it, which figures because she's much more thoughtful.

About Those RomCom Endings

So I was thinking this weekend, as I traveled six hundred miles back to southern Ohio, about romcom endings. Actually I was thinking about "She," the Elvis Costello song, and I looked it up on You Tube (I was in a hotel for the night), and you know how it is on You Tube, it's like eating potato chips, you just keep going, and I ended up on the press conference scene from Notting Hill, which led me to the declaration-in-the-office-in-front-of-everybody scene in The Proposal which led to me asking, "Why do all these movies have this stupid I-have-to-tell-you-I-love-you-in-front-of-everybody end scenes?" I can kind of see the press conference scene since there's no way a bookstore owner could have gotten to a mega-star at that point, and Thacker did kind of keep it in code with his "daft prick" line, but there's no way Andrew wouldn't have dragged Margaret into an office for his proposal. So why all the public love?

Which made me think about comedy in general, comedy as in comedy/tragedy/farce, not romantic comedy. Shakespeare's comedies always ended in marriages because that was a signal that society had been reaffirmed: the lovers were legitimizing their passion and joining the community, which made it stronger. And I wondered if maybe that's what the public declaration does now, stands in for the wedding ceremony which doesn't work so well in 2011, reinforces the idea that these people are announcing their bond before their communities which makes their relationships more serious, raises the stakes, makes it official in some way.

I still thought it was stupid.

So I went back to "She" for whatever reason I was looking for it to begin with and remembered that I used "She" in Bet Me, and that I had a crowd scene at the end of that novel. Min and Cal had already established their relationship, he'd proposed, they'd made love, their story was done, and then here came every other character in the book, trooping into Min's living room to comment. And there was that big scene in Clea's bedroom at the end of Faking It where everybody piled in and yelled. And there was the courtroom scene at the end of Welcome to Temptation. In my defense, none of these scenes are used as public declarations of love, but I think they act the same way because the lovers are publically working together, united against the world or at least the Big Bad.

I still haven't thought this through completely, but I'm thinking that the Community Scene may be important in RomCom because it demonstrates both that the lovers are officially together and that they're part of the community. That is, Min doesn't say to everybody in her living room, "Get out of here, I'm never seeing any of you again," Cal says something like, "You realize we're going to see all of these people at every holiday for the rest of our lives." Or something like that; I'm too lazy to go look it up. The climax in Maybe This Time is the moment when Andie, North, Carter, and Alice become a family, a unit, the kids choose Andie and North and together the four of them vanquish the Big Bad. I didn't do any of that on purpose, but I think that makes the observation stronger: something there is that doesn't love solitary lovers, that wants them community/family bound. "Mending Relationships" or maybe "Mending Worlds" that have been broken or weakened by conflict and loss. The return of the heroes to their community, healing the Fisher King?

Why yes, I am babbling. This is what you get when I invite you into my cognitive process before I've come to a conclusion. But I really think this lovers-before-the-community thing may be necessary.

Feel free to pile on here. I'm just sitting here cogitating.

Non-Fiction Covers, A Discussion

I'm still on the road, but I got to see Mollie today, and we started talking about covers for the non-fiction e-books. We've picked a cover for the short story collection that can be adapted for other short story collections so that there's a series look to them, but now we have to do the same thing for the planned "She Wrote" e-books (yes, there will be a Print on Demand option). Mollie found some madly fabulous retro secretary ads that were beautiful, but they were also too detailed for a book cover and, I thought, too narrative. If you saw the image below on a cover, wouldn't you think it was a story, not a non-fiction writing book?





(See more ads like this at Advertising Archives.)

So my theory on the difference between fiction covers and non-fiction covers, is that fiction readers are looking for a cover that communicates the emotional ride, and non-fiction readers are looking for a cover that tells them what information is inside. Emotion vs. information. So the darling retro ads are too narrative; they're pretty but they don't state what the book contains.

My first pass at the She Wrote covers looked like this (click to see full image):

Mollie didn't like those, and I can see they're too simple, but I still think it's the right direction. So here's a compromise that I don't think either of us likes:

Part of the problem is that those retro images are so seductive. I can't figure out how to use any of these, but I still love them, especially the typewrite with arms:

So what do you think? What would you respond to on a writing book cover?