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Sarah Dessen's Blog, page 35
November 18, 2010
The Five!
1. You know how Play-Doh cans declare, in really big letters, that their contents are NON-TOXIC? Ever wonder why? Because at some point, someone you know will eat some. Here at our house, it was my dog Monkey. He always eats my daughter's food off her little table, so we have learned to move it. Today, though, it did not occur to me to also move the FAKE cookies she'd made from Play-Doh with her sitter. Big mistake. I'm out of the room five seconds, only to return to see him chewing. The platter they'd been on was licked clean. Uh-oh. Quick Google check says it won't kill him. Whew! A few minutes later, he starts looking sort of queasy. Oh, dear. You guessed it: moments later, multicolored dog puke everywhere. Double ugh. And it wasn't even 8am yet! Sigh. A half hour later, I still can't shake the smell, even as I am driving toddler (late) to preschool. A story comes on NPR about The National Book Awards the night before. Authors talking about what it means to be a writer. And there's me, still smelling play-doh puke, going down a country road and I start laughing like a crazy person. HAHAHAHAHHAHA! My daughter is watching from the backseat, confused. Yeah, I'm not sure what was so funny either. Life, I guess. You just have to laugh sometimes.
2. In other news, how great was Glee this week? Really! Just when I think it can't get any better, they bring on Gwyneth Paltrow and have her sing Cee-Lo. I mean, come ON! She even made the clean version of that song sound great (and honestly, I'm partial to the original, although I probably shouldn't admit that here). I love Gwyneth--have been obsessed with Sliding Doors since I saw it in the theatre, TWICE---but my husband hasn't been much of a fan. But even HE liked her on Glee. Oh, I wish I could just bottle that show and take it with my multivitamin each day. I guess downloading the songs and listening to them on repeat is basically the same thing.
3. The cold I got last week is like the worst kind of houseguest: it just WILL NOT LEAVE. Sounding all hoarse and exotic was fun for a few days, but I'm ready to feel normal again, please. Coughing myself awake, sneezing six times in a row, watching people scatter when they see me coming, sniffling...I'm over it. Somehow, the person who gave me this thing (short, blonde, three) snapped out of it in two days flat. Kids are amazing that way. They were talking about natural cold remedies on GMA this morning and mentioned Neti-Pots. Sam Champion swears by them. I have always thought they were kind of gross---shooting water up your nose? really?---but I am sick enough of being sick I am willing to try it now. It's either that or move into a bubble. And I bet bubbles are expensive. And kind of lonely.
4. Major milestone this week: my daughter had her first haircut. It was time. Her crazy mix of curls and Albert Einstein-style flyways had gotten so long and out of hand not even a brush could fix it. After checking out some salons just for kids (TVs! RaceCar chairs! Princess packages!) I decided to keep it simple and took her to my friend Kelly, who works at a local salon. She's cut my hair before, she cuts my husband's, and I've known her since high school, when we were in homeroom together. (My regular stylist is ALSO someone I went to high school with: I went to the PROM with him, actually. But this is just a coincidence, I promise, not a requirement. And yes, I know it's kind of weird. Such is my life.) Anyway, we went up to Kelly's, I sat my daughter in my lap, and she got to work. She snipped, Sasha ate some M&M's, I tried not to get choked up as bits of baby hair came off. Did not succeed. Fifteen minutes later, she had a neat little head of hair, all curly and parted, with a little clip holding back the front. SOB! The clip lasted about ten seconds, but man was it cute. Another milestone, another lump in my throat. I am such a sap, I swear. What is about hair? We girls take it seriously. Or maybe everyone does.
5. In the midst of all the madness of this week, there has been one really amazing thing: peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. (What, you thought I was going to say something else?) My friend Courtney, who is a great baker---her cupcakes are legendary---brought over a bag of these amazing delicacies on Sunday, and they have singlehandedly been my saving grace ever since. Like Glee, a little bit of heaven and cheer, condensed down to cookie-size. Yay! I begged her for the recipe, and then thought I would share it with you, in case you might need a pick-me-up as well. She says she put in 3/4 cup of dark chocolate chips in as well. OH MY GOD THEY ARE SO GOOD. For reals. You can (and will) thank me later: here you go. I think I know what I'm doing this weekend.....
Have a good night, everyone!
2. In other news, how great was Glee this week? Really! Just when I think it can't get any better, they bring on Gwyneth Paltrow and have her sing Cee-Lo. I mean, come ON! She even made the clean version of that song sound great (and honestly, I'm partial to the original, although I probably shouldn't admit that here). I love Gwyneth--have been obsessed with Sliding Doors since I saw it in the theatre, TWICE---but my husband hasn't been much of a fan. But even HE liked her on Glee. Oh, I wish I could just bottle that show and take it with my multivitamin each day. I guess downloading the songs and listening to them on repeat is basically the same thing.
3. The cold I got last week is like the worst kind of houseguest: it just WILL NOT LEAVE. Sounding all hoarse and exotic was fun for a few days, but I'm ready to feel normal again, please. Coughing myself awake, sneezing six times in a row, watching people scatter when they see me coming, sniffling...I'm over it. Somehow, the person who gave me this thing (short, blonde, three) snapped out of it in two days flat. Kids are amazing that way. They were talking about natural cold remedies on GMA this morning and mentioned Neti-Pots. Sam Champion swears by them. I have always thought they were kind of gross---shooting water up your nose? really?---but I am sick enough of being sick I am willing to try it now. It's either that or move into a bubble. And I bet bubbles are expensive. And kind of lonely.
4. Major milestone this week: my daughter had her first haircut. It was time. Her crazy mix of curls and Albert Einstein-style flyways had gotten so long and out of hand not even a brush could fix it. After checking out some salons just for kids (TVs! RaceCar chairs! Princess packages!) I decided to keep it simple and took her to my friend Kelly, who works at a local salon. She's cut my hair before, she cuts my husband's, and I've known her since high school, when we were in homeroom together. (My regular stylist is ALSO someone I went to high school with: I went to the PROM with him, actually. But this is just a coincidence, I promise, not a requirement. And yes, I know it's kind of weird. Such is my life.) Anyway, we went up to Kelly's, I sat my daughter in my lap, and she got to work. She snipped, Sasha ate some M&M's, I tried not to get choked up as bits of baby hair came off. Did not succeed. Fifteen minutes later, she had a neat little head of hair, all curly and parted, with a little clip holding back the front. SOB! The clip lasted about ten seconds, but man was it cute. Another milestone, another lump in my throat. I am such a sap, I swear. What is about hair? We girls take it seriously. Or maybe everyone does.
5. In the midst of all the madness of this week, there has been one really amazing thing: peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. (What, you thought I was going to say something else?) My friend Courtney, who is a great baker---her cupcakes are legendary---brought over a bag of these amazing delicacies on Sunday, and they have singlehandedly been my saving grace ever since. Like Glee, a little bit of heaven and cheer, condensed down to cookie-size. Yay! I begged her for the recipe, and then thought I would share it with you, in case you might need a pick-me-up as well. She says she put in 3/4 cup of dark chocolate chips in as well. OH MY GOD THEY ARE SO GOOD. For reals. You can (and will) thank me later: here you go. I think I know what I'm doing this weekend.....
Have a good night, everyone!
November 16, 2010
writergrl @ 2010-11-16T16:38:00
It is dark and rainy here today, the kind of day where you just want to eat biscuits. Or chocolate. Or chocolate biscuits. Thank goodness for the news that Prince William and Kate Middleton are engaged! It has given me something cheery and totally frivolous to think about. (I know, weddings aren't frivolous to the people that are in them, or planning them. But I have a feeling I won't be involved in this one.) I, of course, am old enough to remember VERY well the summer that Charles and Diana got married: we watched the wedding in our living room in Cape Cod, on this tiny little black and white TV, and were all mad-crazy about the Dress, the Carriage, the whole Fairy Tale. Which, as well all know, turned out to be not exactly that. But what marriage is? I personally cannot think of any, mostly because fairy tales usually end with a kiss instead of beginning with one.
You know what marriage is, really? Not wedding cake, or engagement parties, or even what appetizer or napkins you serve at the reception. It's holding your tongue when your spouse does something that drives you SO INSANE, like leaving their shoes in the middle of the kitchen, or clumps of food in the dish drain. It's knowing when to just Let Something Go, because you've had a bad day, or they have, and you know things will get better, eventually. It's the silly things, like the fact that my parents have been married over forty years and my dad will still look at me when my mom does something perplexing, saying "I have no control over what she does," and then giggle, like it's a big joke I'll never get. It's knowing that one of you is better at cleaning the bathroom, and the other can fix the computer, and while in a perfect world you'd both do these things equally well, this world just ain't perfect. It's agreeing to watch car racing or Grey's Anatomy, even when you REALLY don't want to, and getting up with a crying baby when you're exhausted because you know the other person is even more tired than you are. It's messy and stupid and hard and hilarious, and once you add kids in? Forget it. Even crazier. So personally, I am ALWAYS impressed when people are together for awhile (eight years for Will and Kate, I think?) and know each other well, have lived together and STILL want to take that leap. It's a big one, requiring a lot of faith and just as much humor. Good for them. And yes, I WILL be up early watching the wedding in real time. And probably crying. I am that much of a sap.
In other news, I'm entering this new world I previously did not know existed: that of Preschool Mom. This weekend, I made play-doh. Later this week, I am baking and then volunteering for a bake sale. When on earth did I get so domestic? Wasn't it just yesterday I was skipping class, drinking Mountain Dew, and getting into trouble? Is this the same person you WANT pricing your brownies for a fundraiser? Maybe it's because I still live in my hometown that I am so aware of this. The road that leads to my daughter's preschool goes RIGHT by my high school, so it's like my worlds, past and present, are colliding on a daily basis. Somehow, I'm forty and someone's mother. How did THAT happen? The other day I was driving when "Once in a Lifetime," by the Talking Heads came on---a song I listened to a lot in high school---and I finally GOT that part about, "And you may ask yourself: well, how did I get here?" It's like, I know, logically. But it just seems so strange.
You know what's even stranger? That I have the sneaking suspicion I have already written about that Talking Heads quote, but my memory is SO bad because I am NO LONGER a teenager that I am not sure. Sigh. Double sigh. Get me a Mountain Dew and something to feel angsty about, please. STAT!
*reads back over entry*
Oh, man, this is a real mismash, isn't it? How did I go from royal weddings to the Talking Heads? Such is the beauty of the blog, I guess. Just like life and writing, it doesn't matter how you get there. Just that you do. Or something like that.
Have a good night, everyone!
You know what marriage is, really? Not wedding cake, or engagement parties, or even what appetizer or napkins you serve at the reception. It's holding your tongue when your spouse does something that drives you SO INSANE, like leaving their shoes in the middle of the kitchen, or clumps of food in the dish drain. It's knowing when to just Let Something Go, because you've had a bad day, or they have, and you know things will get better, eventually. It's the silly things, like the fact that my parents have been married over forty years and my dad will still look at me when my mom does something perplexing, saying "I have no control over what she does," and then giggle, like it's a big joke I'll never get. It's knowing that one of you is better at cleaning the bathroom, and the other can fix the computer, and while in a perfect world you'd both do these things equally well, this world just ain't perfect. It's agreeing to watch car racing or Grey's Anatomy, even when you REALLY don't want to, and getting up with a crying baby when you're exhausted because you know the other person is even more tired than you are. It's messy and stupid and hard and hilarious, and once you add kids in? Forget it. Even crazier. So personally, I am ALWAYS impressed when people are together for awhile (eight years for Will and Kate, I think?) and know each other well, have lived together and STILL want to take that leap. It's a big one, requiring a lot of faith and just as much humor. Good for them. And yes, I WILL be up early watching the wedding in real time. And probably crying. I am that much of a sap.
In other news, I'm entering this new world I previously did not know existed: that of Preschool Mom. This weekend, I made play-doh. Later this week, I am baking and then volunteering for a bake sale. When on earth did I get so domestic? Wasn't it just yesterday I was skipping class, drinking Mountain Dew, and getting into trouble? Is this the same person you WANT pricing your brownies for a fundraiser? Maybe it's because I still live in my hometown that I am so aware of this. The road that leads to my daughter's preschool goes RIGHT by my high school, so it's like my worlds, past and present, are colliding on a daily basis. Somehow, I'm forty and someone's mother. How did THAT happen? The other day I was driving when "Once in a Lifetime," by the Talking Heads came on---a song I listened to a lot in high school---and I finally GOT that part about, "And you may ask yourself: well, how did I get here?" It's like, I know, logically. But it just seems so strange.
You know what's even stranger? That I have the sneaking suspicion I have already written about that Talking Heads quote, but my memory is SO bad because I am NO LONGER a teenager that I am not sure. Sigh. Double sigh. Get me a Mountain Dew and something to feel angsty about, please. STAT!
*reads back over entry*
Oh, man, this is a real mismash, isn't it? How did I go from royal weddings to the Talking Heads? Such is the beauty of the blog, I guess. Just like life and writing, it doesn't matter how you get there. Just that you do. Or something like that.
Have a good night, everyone!
November 14, 2010
writergrl @ 2010-11-14T17:10:00
Ahem.
I keep clearing my throat, because the cold I got from my daughter has moved down into my tonsils. It makes me sound like I am constantly trying to get everyone's attention to make a Very Important Announcement, when really I 1) have nothing to say and 2) couldn't say it well even if I did, because I am losing my voice. Cue the hilarity! On the upside, I do have that scratchy voice you get when you're sick that makes me sound exotic, so that's not a bad thing. Because that's what it takes to get me even CLOSE to exotic: a head cold and drainage. *rimshot* I'm here all week!
No, I'm not on cold medicine. Why?
Seriously, though, I hate being sick. And really, this time I feel like I dodged a bullet by just getting a simple cold. Everyone told me that when my kid went into preschool and began developing her immune system we'd be plagued by every bug going around, but I thought people were exaggerating. Apparently not. Lately, though, I'm trying to take things that happen as suggestions from the universe. So maybe I just really NEEDED to sleep more, do less, and, well, shut up. I can totally see why someone might think so. so who am I to argue?
There was one thing WORTH the throat clearing/Big Announcement this weekend, which was the achievement of a Life's Dream: I got in Entertainment Weekly!
Okay, fine, my BOOKS are in Entertainment Weekly. That's the thing, though: for me, it's basically the same thing. And talk about being in amazing company. Suzanne Colins AND The Wimpy Kid books AND Jan Brett? I almost had to do a victory lap around my mailbox (I didn't, as my neighbors already think I am weird enough.) I'm so excited about this gift set, though, and I know the folks at Penguin put a ton of work into the design, so I'm thrilled to get it get such a big mention.
I know that for a lot of authors being in EW is old hat. But maybe they are used to being glamorous. I, however, spent the weekend when I wasn't hacking, preparing to announce or whispering......wait for it....making Play-Doh from scratch for my daughter's preschool class. Way back in the fall, I apparently signed up to do this, and so off we trekked to the grocery store to buy large amounts of flour, salt and cream of tartar. We mixed it up with some vegetable oil and food coloring, boiled it on the stove and WHOA, we had Play Doh. It was miraculous, I swear to you. It didn't have that chemically smell of real Play Doh, and the colors were less than neon vibrant, but I am guessing that that might be a GOOD thing. Just a hunch.
So I'm there kneading my sunshine yellow Play Doh, readying it for a Ziploc bag, and I'm thinking, I wonder if Suzanne Collins or Jeff Kinney or Jan Brett are doing this, or something like it, right now. It seemed wholly indicative of the wonderfully exciting and mundane nature of my life right now. That my book can be right below Lauren Conrad's on the bestseller list, but while she's on the cover of Elle Magazine, I'm flipping through it at the grocery store while my kid bonks me in the face with her free giveaway balloon. And the truth is, I would not have it any other way. For real. Which, now that I think about it, is something worth announcing after a good throat clearing. Ahem!
I know I should wrap this up with that last line. It is a good closer. But I just have to add that my husband, who ran 25 miles this morning, just limped past me, groaning. "I....love....running..." he whispered as he shuffled past me. Snort. No pain, no...well, no pain isn't a bad thing, actually. WHY does someone want to run that far if they are not being chased? This is the question I am not asking.
Have a good night, everyone!
I keep clearing my throat, because the cold I got from my daughter has moved down into my tonsils. It makes me sound like I am constantly trying to get everyone's attention to make a Very Important Announcement, when really I 1) have nothing to say and 2) couldn't say it well even if I did, because I am losing my voice. Cue the hilarity! On the upside, I do have that scratchy voice you get when you're sick that makes me sound exotic, so that's not a bad thing. Because that's what it takes to get me even CLOSE to exotic: a head cold and drainage. *rimshot* I'm here all week!
No, I'm not on cold medicine. Why?
Seriously, though, I hate being sick. And really, this time I feel like I dodged a bullet by just getting a simple cold. Everyone told me that when my kid went into preschool and began developing her immune system we'd be plagued by every bug going around, but I thought people were exaggerating. Apparently not. Lately, though, I'm trying to take things that happen as suggestions from the universe. So maybe I just really NEEDED to sleep more, do less, and, well, shut up. I can totally see why someone might think so. so who am I to argue?
There was one thing WORTH the throat clearing/Big Announcement this weekend, which was the achievement of a Life's Dream: I got in Entertainment Weekly!
Okay, fine, my BOOKS are in Entertainment Weekly. That's the thing, though: for me, it's basically the same thing. And talk about being in amazing company. Suzanne Colins AND The Wimpy Kid books AND Jan Brett? I almost had to do a victory lap around my mailbox (I didn't, as my neighbors already think I am weird enough.) I'm so excited about this gift set, though, and I know the folks at Penguin put a ton of work into the design, so I'm thrilled to get it get such a big mention.
I know that for a lot of authors being in EW is old hat. But maybe they are used to being glamorous. I, however, spent the weekend when I wasn't hacking, preparing to announce or whispering......wait for it....making Play-Doh from scratch for my daughter's preschool class. Way back in the fall, I apparently signed up to do this, and so off we trekked to the grocery store to buy large amounts of flour, salt and cream of tartar. We mixed it up with some vegetable oil and food coloring, boiled it on the stove and WHOA, we had Play Doh. It was miraculous, I swear to you. It didn't have that chemically smell of real Play Doh, and the colors were less than neon vibrant, but I am guessing that that might be a GOOD thing. Just a hunch.
So I'm there kneading my sunshine yellow Play Doh, readying it for a Ziploc bag, and I'm thinking, I wonder if Suzanne Collins or Jeff Kinney or Jan Brett are doing this, or something like it, right now. It seemed wholly indicative of the wonderfully exciting and mundane nature of my life right now. That my book can be right below Lauren Conrad's on the bestseller list, but while she's on the cover of Elle Magazine, I'm flipping through it at the grocery store while my kid bonks me in the face with her free giveaway balloon. And the truth is, I would not have it any other way. For real. Which, now that I think about it, is something worth announcing after a good throat clearing. Ahem!
I know I should wrap this up with that last line. It is a good closer. But I just have to add that my husband, who ran 25 miles this morning, just limped past me, groaning. "I....love....running..." he whispered as he shuffled past me. Snort. No pain, no...well, no pain isn't a bad thing, actually. WHY does someone want to run that far if they are not being chased? This is the question I am not asking.
Have a good night, everyone!
November 11, 2010
The Five!
1. Okay, so Glee was GREAT this week. Truly. Which is one of the reasons I literally screamed as if in pain when my husband, joking around, pretended like he was going to delete it right after we watched it. And then: he did. BY ACCIDENT. OR SO HE CLAIMS. Blip! And it was gone. "I didn't mean to! I was only joking!" he kept saying, but our DVR has no Trash option, so it was gone, baby, gone. I can watch it on Hulu, I know, but then I can't fast forward to all my favorite parts over and over again. Might have to download it from iTunes. If I do, I think HE should have to pay for it. Fair is fair.
2. I have written here before about my college friend Geralin, who is now a professional organizer featured on A&E's Hoarders. Today she was on the Nate Berkus show: step BACK! She is a rock star. I bet she gets on GMA soon and then I will die of jealousy. But I digress. Anyway, on the Nate show she was talking about clearing out clutter, and now up on the website she's posted some great tips that you can read here . Now, I'm not sure I can pare down my wardrobe to the items she says you actually NEED, even if it would make everything neater. Only two pairs of jeans? WHAT? And I know she would not approve of the fact that I hold onto clothes for emotional reasons, even if I never wear them. I have to admit, though, when I DO clean out my closet, it's like therapy. But then, shopping is too. It's a wicked cycle.
3. My daughter currently has her 1,290th cold since August. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But honestly. She's walking around SO stuffed up, it's like living with a short Darth Vader. Or a mini mouth breather. What stinks the most is that when a kid this age is congested, there's nothing you can do. Not Sudafed or Dayquil or whatever I'd take. Plus, she won't blow her nose, and the alternative is trying to hold her down and suction stuff out. Right now, she's watching Blue's Clue's and moaning intermittently. I feel SO BAD for her. Sniffle. Sniffle. Hack.
4. Today I was multitasking, as usual. Does anyone single task anymore? Anyway, I was running errands while listening to voice auditions for the audiobook of What Happened to Goodbye. This is always odd to me, because it's so weird for me to hear ANYONE else reading my book. I hear it a certain way in my head, the voice, the nuances, and by this point I have read SO much of it aloud in my office, trying to get it right on the page. So to hear another take is strange. Everyone sounds good, and everyone is so different! I know authors who read their own audiobooks, but nobody' s asked me to do that. Maybe it's my accent, I don't know, You realize, though, when you read a bunch of takes on the same scene, what a difference the reader makes. To me, Mclean, What Happened to Goodbye's narrator, doesn't sound like anyone but...well, Mclean. I think every reader has their own idea. And that's a good thing.
5. I saw my first Christmas commercial today. I know, I know. It's inevitable. But I am always, for some reason, still unsettled whenever I see anything Christmas before Thanksgiving. Maybe this is because I LOVE Thanksgiving. What's not to love? Food, family, naps and sports. I mean, come on. I like Christmas too, but then there's all the pressure of gifts and cards and all that. I personally am doing my yearly ritual of refusing to even think about Christmas until the morning after I've stuffed myself with turkey, stuffing and apple pie. Mmmmm...pie. I am thinking I will make my cousin Caroline's recipe this year, which has SO MANY APPLES (various kinds, mixed) that it's like a little mountain of love in every bite. Oh, man. Now I'm hungry.
....or, was, until daughter started hacking again. I need some Airborne, QUICK.
Have a good weekend, everyone!
2. I have written here before about my college friend Geralin, who is now a professional organizer featured on A&E's Hoarders. Today she was on the Nate Berkus show: step BACK! She is a rock star. I bet she gets on GMA soon and then I will die of jealousy. But I digress. Anyway, on the Nate show she was talking about clearing out clutter, and now up on the website she's posted some great tips that you can read here . Now, I'm not sure I can pare down my wardrobe to the items she says you actually NEED, even if it would make everything neater. Only two pairs of jeans? WHAT? And I know she would not approve of the fact that I hold onto clothes for emotional reasons, even if I never wear them. I have to admit, though, when I DO clean out my closet, it's like therapy. But then, shopping is too. It's a wicked cycle.
3. My daughter currently has her 1,290th cold since August. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating. But honestly. She's walking around SO stuffed up, it's like living with a short Darth Vader. Or a mini mouth breather. What stinks the most is that when a kid this age is congested, there's nothing you can do. Not Sudafed or Dayquil or whatever I'd take. Plus, she won't blow her nose, and the alternative is trying to hold her down and suction stuff out. Right now, she's watching Blue's Clue's and moaning intermittently. I feel SO BAD for her. Sniffle. Sniffle. Hack.
4. Today I was multitasking, as usual. Does anyone single task anymore? Anyway, I was running errands while listening to voice auditions for the audiobook of What Happened to Goodbye. This is always odd to me, because it's so weird for me to hear ANYONE else reading my book. I hear it a certain way in my head, the voice, the nuances, and by this point I have read SO much of it aloud in my office, trying to get it right on the page. So to hear another take is strange. Everyone sounds good, and everyone is so different! I know authors who read their own audiobooks, but nobody' s asked me to do that. Maybe it's my accent, I don't know, You realize, though, when you read a bunch of takes on the same scene, what a difference the reader makes. To me, Mclean, What Happened to Goodbye's narrator, doesn't sound like anyone but...well, Mclean. I think every reader has their own idea. And that's a good thing.
5. I saw my first Christmas commercial today. I know, I know. It's inevitable. But I am always, for some reason, still unsettled whenever I see anything Christmas before Thanksgiving. Maybe this is because I LOVE Thanksgiving. What's not to love? Food, family, naps and sports. I mean, come on. I like Christmas too, but then there's all the pressure of gifts and cards and all that. I personally am doing my yearly ritual of refusing to even think about Christmas until the morning after I've stuffed myself with turkey, stuffing and apple pie. Mmmmm...pie. I am thinking I will make my cousin Caroline's recipe this year, which has SO MANY APPLES (various kinds, mixed) that it's like a little mountain of love in every bite. Oh, man. Now I'm hungry.
....or, was, until daughter started hacking again. I need some Airborne, QUICK.
Have a good weekend, everyone!
November 8, 2010
Before I forget...
...yes, I know I just posted yesterday. But my memory is so bad right now I KNOW if I don't put these up in a post they will be going, going....GONE by tomorrow. Sad, but true.
Okay, so number one: video of my Along for the Ride race car! You get a dashboard view of my friend Evan racing this weekend. (Notice the bumpersticker on the dash: shameless promotion, I know. Sorry!) I have to say I am such a nervous person that the entire time I was watching this I kept stabbing at an imaginary brake pedal under my desk. Yikes! Which I guess is better than reaching up to grab an imaginary what my husband used to call the Oh S**t handle, that thing over your passenger window. Hang on!
Number two: a reader posted the most amazing picture on my Facebook fan page. It literally blew me away. I'm always flattered when anyone finds something that strikes a chord with them in one of my books, but when they choose to put those words on their body, it's pretty incredible. Thanks to Danielle for letting me share this:
So cool.
Finally, a truly personal. My cousin Hannah is an AMAZING singer/songwriter, and she's got a new album up on Bandcamp. I have listened to her music for years and loved it, and I think this is her best stuff yet. (I actually held her as a baby, when I visited them in England. I remember I was twelve and outside this public park with her and a woman asked me how old my daughter was. I was like, "WHAT?" Maybe I just looked mature? But I digress.) Anyway, Hannah rocks. You should totally listen to her song "Canny Man," by clicking HERE . I cannot get it out of my head.
Okay, that's all I had to tell you. At least I THINK so. No telling what I am forgetting.....
Have a good night, everyone!
Okay, so number one: video of my Along for the Ride race car! You get a dashboard view of my friend Evan racing this weekend. (Notice the bumpersticker on the dash: shameless promotion, I know. Sorry!) I have to say I am such a nervous person that the entire time I was watching this I kept stabbing at an imaginary brake pedal under my desk. Yikes! Which I guess is better than reaching up to grab an imaginary what my husband used to call the Oh S**t handle, that thing over your passenger window. Hang on!
Number two: a reader posted the most amazing picture on my Facebook fan page. It literally blew me away. I'm always flattered when anyone finds something that strikes a chord with them in one of my books, but when they choose to put those words on their body, it's pretty incredible. Thanks to Danielle for letting me share this:
So cool.
Finally, a truly personal. My cousin Hannah is an AMAZING singer/songwriter, and she's got a new album up on Bandcamp. I have listened to her music for years and loved it, and I think this is her best stuff yet. (I actually held her as a baby, when I visited them in England. I remember I was twelve and outside this public park with her and a woman asked me how old my daughter was. I was like, "WHAT?" Maybe I just looked mature? But I digress.) Anyway, Hannah rocks. You should totally listen to her song "Canny Man," by clicking HERE . I cannot get it out of my head.
Okay, that's all I had to tell you. At least I THINK so. No telling what I am forgetting.....
Have a good night, everyone!
November 7, 2010
writergrl @ 2010-11-07T16:20:00
We fell back an hour last night, as Daylight Savings Time ended. (Oh, and thanks to the commenter who pointed out I got that wrong when I said it was beginning: what would I do without you guys?) Unfortunately, no one told my toddler, who was up and chattering, calling for me at 4:35 this morning. Ugh. Double ugh. I finally went and got her around 5:15, which I told myself was actually 6:15. Do you do that trick, at first, where you reassure your sleepy and hour-confused self by clinging to what time it SHOULD be? No? Oh. Anyway, now it's almost four, which means we have about an hour until sunset. (This was pointed out to me by Susane Colasanti, who knew it would make me groan. It did.)
This is the time of year that I feel that early-darkness funk set in. The kind that makes me want to eat more carbs (bread! cake! bread!) wear nothing but Uggs and stretchy jeans, and avoid all responsibility. It's amazing I get anything done from November to March, honestly. But the thing that's weird is, it's in those months that I often get my BEST writing done, if only because it pulls me out of where I am and lets me be someplace else. Ever wonder why so many of my books are set in sunny summer? Well, because I'm usually writing them when the sun is setting before five. You do what you have to do. So for me, today, that meant bacon at breakfast (yum!), making brownies before noon, and fixing up a big crock-pot full of white bean and sausage pasta sauce for dinner tonight. I will cook and eat my way until the light returns. Just watch me. Oh, and maybe try to start another book, too.
Also this weekend was the inaugural race Team Dessen, i.e. the Along for the Ride and Lock and Key cars. After getting pole position on Saturday (this is beginning at the head of the pack, it was explained to me) my friend Evan, in the AFTR car, had a strong start, only to be crashed off the road by another car. Yikes! He was fine, though, and came back strong to again start first today and finish third. YES! The Lock and Key car, driven by my husband, also finished well, in the middle of the pack. So, a good weekend all around for this crazy, latest endeavor. I think I will eat a brownie to celebrate.
With the house to myself and the toddler, I spent the time I wasn't eating catching up on all the shows my husband cannot tolerate. First, Friday Night Lights. I know, irony of ironies, I can convince total strangers to watch this show but not my life partner. SIGH. Anyway, I finally got to the first two episodes of the new season and was NOT disappointed. No spoilers, though, so that's all I will say. Then it was onto Grey's Anatomy, which continues to be good although not great, but I still like watching it. Finally, there is Brothers and Sisters, a show my husband hates so much he can't even HEAR it from another room. Me, though, I love this hot mess that is the Walkers. Although I do have a small bone to pick. This season Kitty has a new love interest. He's a hunky, down-to-earth carpenter. All carpenters on TV, it seems, are hunky and down to earth. Also, like this guy, they all seem to wear white tank tops when they work. Now, my husband is a carpenter and contractor. I know a LOT of carpenters. I've never seen any of them wear a tank top to work. Seriously. The carpenters I know are all tattooed, drive trucks, and will wear shorts until it's absolutely freezing outside. They are not camera ready, their tool belts actually look used (not like a belt, slung suggestively around expensive jeans) and they don't wear expensive jeans to work. Or, um, ever. It's like whenever there is a Southerner on TV, they are twanging like mad and talking about Mama and Wal-Mart. Hollywood: we're not all like that. I promise! I personally would have loved to see Kitty with a tattooed carpenter in shorts and a sleeve tattoo. Maybe next season.
Okay, I'll stop ranting now. See what early darkness does to me? I will leave you with something that instead inspired me this weekend. I was over at my neighbor Mark's studio---he's a painter, an amazing one---and I caught a glimpse of his filing system and immediately wished I had the same one:
If only it was that easy to keep the two that separate. Maybe I'll invest in a new cabinet and try it?
Have a good night, everyone!
This is the time of year that I feel that early-darkness funk set in. The kind that makes me want to eat more carbs (bread! cake! bread!) wear nothing but Uggs and stretchy jeans, and avoid all responsibility. It's amazing I get anything done from November to March, honestly. But the thing that's weird is, it's in those months that I often get my BEST writing done, if only because it pulls me out of where I am and lets me be someplace else. Ever wonder why so many of my books are set in sunny summer? Well, because I'm usually writing them when the sun is setting before five. You do what you have to do. So for me, today, that meant bacon at breakfast (yum!), making brownies before noon, and fixing up a big crock-pot full of white bean and sausage pasta sauce for dinner tonight. I will cook and eat my way until the light returns. Just watch me. Oh, and maybe try to start another book, too.
Also this weekend was the inaugural race Team Dessen, i.e. the Along for the Ride and Lock and Key cars. After getting pole position on Saturday (this is beginning at the head of the pack, it was explained to me) my friend Evan, in the AFTR car, had a strong start, only to be crashed off the road by another car. Yikes! He was fine, though, and came back strong to again start first today and finish third. YES! The Lock and Key car, driven by my husband, also finished well, in the middle of the pack. So, a good weekend all around for this crazy, latest endeavor. I think I will eat a brownie to celebrate.
With the house to myself and the toddler, I spent the time I wasn't eating catching up on all the shows my husband cannot tolerate. First, Friday Night Lights. I know, irony of ironies, I can convince total strangers to watch this show but not my life partner. SIGH. Anyway, I finally got to the first two episodes of the new season and was NOT disappointed. No spoilers, though, so that's all I will say. Then it was onto Grey's Anatomy, which continues to be good although not great, but I still like watching it. Finally, there is Brothers and Sisters, a show my husband hates so much he can't even HEAR it from another room. Me, though, I love this hot mess that is the Walkers. Although I do have a small bone to pick. This season Kitty has a new love interest. He's a hunky, down-to-earth carpenter. All carpenters on TV, it seems, are hunky and down to earth. Also, like this guy, they all seem to wear white tank tops when they work. Now, my husband is a carpenter and contractor. I know a LOT of carpenters. I've never seen any of them wear a tank top to work. Seriously. The carpenters I know are all tattooed, drive trucks, and will wear shorts until it's absolutely freezing outside. They are not camera ready, their tool belts actually look used (not like a belt, slung suggestively around expensive jeans) and they don't wear expensive jeans to work. Or, um, ever. It's like whenever there is a Southerner on TV, they are twanging like mad and talking about Mama and Wal-Mart. Hollywood: we're not all like that. I promise! I personally would have loved to see Kitty with a tattooed carpenter in shorts and a sleeve tattoo. Maybe next season.
Okay, I'll stop ranting now. See what early darkness does to me? I will leave you with something that instead inspired me this weekend. I was over at my neighbor Mark's studio---he's a painter, an amazing one---and I caught a glimpse of his filing system and immediately wished I had the same one:
If only it was that easy to keep the two that separate. Maybe I'll invest in a new cabinet and try it?
Have a good night, everyone!
November 4, 2010
The Five!
1. Thanks to everyone who left kind comments (and those reassuring me that I'm not insane) about my last blog post. I know a few people said they really like to hear about my writing process,, and wish I discussed it more here. The truth is, though, I get superstitious talking about writing. I can do it sometimes, but the more I dissect and try to process why, exactly, something works, the less it does. Does that make sense? I do my best writing (and this is no joke) when I have zero time to think about it. When I just have to plunge in and GO and trust I will get where I need to be. For someone who equates planning with sanity, this is absolute madness, which probably explains the neurosis. That said, it's easier talking about the books I've already published than the ones knocking around in my head right now. There's a distance that makes it less scary. So maybe I will do it again. We'll see.
2. Daylight Savings Time begins this weekend. Ugh. That's all I can say. As I write this, it's 4:30 and really cloudy here, but already I need to turn on my office lights. I refuse to. I just can't deal with the fact that pretty soon it will be dark at 5pm. UGH. UGH. This is the time of year that I really start relying on chocolate, magazines and shopping just to get through to springtime. I've thought before that maybe I should invest in one of those light boxes, that's supposed to help with these longer darker days. But then I have to make time to sit in front of the box, and I can't even brush my teeth some days I'm so busy. So for now I will sit here stubbornly, in the dark. So there.
3. Right now, my mother is reading my new book. I tell you this because it is very much on my mind, just like EVERY time she reads something for the first time. There was a time, actually, when my mom was my very first reader: before my agent, editor, anyone. But then there was one book I really thought was good, and she wasn't that crazy about, and it was so awkward that we mutually decided we'd wait in the future until later for her to get a look. So when my galley came last week, I gave it to my husband (who also never reads anything until this stage) but he was so crazy busy he said I should take it to my parents first, since they are fast readers. (As former professors, they come by it honestly.) My dad read it in about twenty four hours and gave it a thumbs up. Score! Now my mom has it and I am doing EVERYTHING I can not to call and bug her about where she is in the story, what she thinks, etc. It really is a scary thing, opening up this part of your life that has been all yours for two full years to the rest of the world. And your mother. Oh, I want to bite my nails just thinking about it. Better get used to it, though, as I know the ARCs will be going out for reviews before I know it. Yikes!
4. This week, a good friend invited us out to eat Indian food. Now, here's something interesting: I don't really like Indian food. How do I know this? Because even though we went to this great restaurant, and everyone else loved the dishes they got, I just...didn't. This is the third time I have tried Indian while suspecting this, so I did give it the old college try. I want to believe I am open to any and all cuisines, but at forty years old, maybe it's time to just accept that maybe this is NOT for me. Thanks to my Twitter friends, who I asked for suggestions, I ordered the tikki masala. And it was fine. But fine is not good and certainly not Out for Dinner Paying a Babysitter GREAT. Part of the problem is that I really don't like spicy food. I don't understand the joy in eating something that is causing you pain at the same time: it's like someone sticking you with needles over dinner. What's the fun in that? I think it's okay to just decide I won't do that again. Maybe that makes me old and crochety. Or just smart. Time will tell.
5. This weekend in the inaugural race of my www.Sarah Dessen.com car, and I am so excited. It's in South Carolina, and I'm not attending, but I will be getting regular updates and hopefully some pictures. It's presented a bit of a dilemma, in that I wanted to send along some swag, but am not sure WHO exactly will be there that might, you know, want a bumpersticker or a signed book or whatever. I'm not sure there will be a big desire at track for pretty pink and purple magnets featuring my book covers. But maybe I am wrong? I think I will send along some anyway. You never know, someone might have a teenage daughter who is interested. And even if they don't, my car is still out there on the track. Going FAAAAAAST! I can't wait.
Have a good weekend, everyone!
2. Daylight Savings Time begins this weekend. Ugh. That's all I can say. As I write this, it's 4:30 and really cloudy here, but already I need to turn on my office lights. I refuse to. I just can't deal with the fact that pretty soon it will be dark at 5pm. UGH. UGH. This is the time of year that I really start relying on chocolate, magazines and shopping just to get through to springtime. I've thought before that maybe I should invest in one of those light boxes, that's supposed to help with these longer darker days. But then I have to make time to sit in front of the box, and I can't even brush my teeth some days I'm so busy. So for now I will sit here stubbornly, in the dark. So there.
3. Right now, my mother is reading my new book. I tell you this because it is very much on my mind, just like EVERY time she reads something for the first time. There was a time, actually, when my mom was my very first reader: before my agent, editor, anyone. But then there was one book I really thought was good, and she wasn't that crazy about, and it was so awkward that we mutually decided we'd wait in the future until later for her to get a look. So when my galley came last week, I gave it to my husband (who also never reads anything until this stage) but he was so crazy busy he said I should take it to my parents first, since they are fast readers. (As former professors, they come by it honestly.) My dad read it in about twenty four hours and gave it a thumbs up. Score! Now my mom has it and I am doing EVERYTHING I can not to call and bug her about where she is in the story, what she thinks, etc. It really is a scary thing, opening up this part of your life that has been all yours for two full years to the rest of the world. And your mother. Oh, I want to bite my nails just thinking about it. Better get used to it, though, as I know the ARCs will be going out for reviews before I know it. Yikes!
4. This week, a good friend invited us out to eat Indian food. Now, here's something interesting: I don't really like Indian food. How do I know this? Because even though we went to this great restaurant, and everyone else loved the dishes they got, I just...didn't. This is the third time I have tried Indian while suspecting this, so I did give it the old college try. I want to believe I am open to any and all cuisines, but at forty years old, maybe it's time to just accept that maybe this is NOT for me. Thanks to my Twitter friends, who I asked for suggestions, I ordered the tikki masala. And it was fine. But fine is not good and certainly not Out for Dinner Paying a Babysitter GREAT. Part of the problem is that I really don't like spicy food. I don't understand the joy in eating something that is causing you pain at the same time: it's like someone sticking you with needles over dinner. What's the fun in that? I think it's okay to just decide I won't do that again. Maybe that makes me old and crochety. Or just smart. Time will tell.
5. This weekend in the inaugural race of my www.Sarah Dessen.com car, and I am so excited. It's in South Carolina, and I'm not attending, but I will be getting regular updates and hopefully some pictures. It's presented a bit of a dilemma, in that I wanted to send along some swag, but am not sure WHO exactly will be there that might, you know, want a bumpersticker or a signed book or whatever. I'm not sure there will be a big desire at track for pretty pink and purple magnets featuring my book covers. But maybe I am wrong? I think I will send along some anyway. You never know, someone might have a teenage daughter who is interested. And even if they don't, my car is still out there on the track. Going FAAAAAAST! I can't wait.
Have a good weekend, everyone!
November 2, 2010
writergrl @ 2010-11-02T16:38:00
The other day, when I was toting around my galley for WHAT HAPPENED TO GOODBYE, my husband gave me a look. "What?" I said. He shrugged. "You just seem especially excited about this one. It's nice." Which was very sweet. And yes, I am excited. Also: relieved, thankful, exhausted. Just like the other nine times. As I said here last week, it never gets old, that moment when you rip open the envelope and your book actually looks like, well, a BOOK. It's the moment that you count on during those long, awful, early-dark days in January, when you're stuck somewhere around page 188 and NOTHING is working. It's cold, you hate yourself and your book, and even chocolate isn't helping, which is like a DEFCON-5 in my world. Someday, you think. Someday, it will be done.
And usually, it is. Except when it isn't. (Gotta love that, right?) I have at least three finished YA novels sitting in storage that just Did Not Work. Characters were flat. Plot was nonexistent. Narrator was totally unlikeable, as was her best friend. (True story!) There's really not a lot worse than putting six months to a year plus into something only to realize no one will EVER see it. Except for realizing that this is a good thing. That's when you hit the ice cream store and cry a little, not necessarily in that order.
The thing is, you just never know when you start a book which one it's going to be. Like I wrote here about Just Listen a few weeks back, I was SURE it was going to end up with the other failures. It had closet storage written all over it. (So to speak.) I've been thinking lately about the backstories about ALL my books, and the one thing they have in common is that at one point or another I was sure they were all misfires. What that says about me, or them, I'm not sure. It's just, well, true.
Take my first book, That Summer. It was actually the third book I wrote: the first was this terrible entirely-too-autobiographical opus I wrote in college, the size of a doorstop, that no one should ever have to read unless they're being punished. The second, about a waitress at an outlet center restaurant who marries her high school sweetheart, only to see him become a country music star, was slightly better. It at least got me an agent, who then asked to see what else I had.
Well. I had this book with a teenage narrator, about a girl and her sister's wedding and parents' divorce. It was giving me fits at the time, seriously. I was always about one lousy writing day away from pitching it into the trash. The only things that kept me going were that I loved the idea of a family reeling from a painful divorce dealing with wedding plans, I loved the ex-boyfriend of the bride to be, and I loved that my narrator worked at a children's shoe store, just like I did in high school. I also liked this crazy subplot I had about this local girl who'd gone on to be a high fashion model, only to suffer a breakdown. I'd named her Gwendolyn, because there was a girl named Gwendolyn Gillingham who was playing for the UNC Women's Basketball team at the time, and she was SO gorgeous and SO tall. She'd been in one of my classes at UNC and I was just fascinated by her.
So there I was, working on this book, waiting tables at the Flying Burrito. I'd write during the day, then leave my house to go to work, cursing the book and myself, then spend the night slinging salsa and Flying Mayans (sweet potato and black bean burritos, the BEST). Every day that I was really ready to toss the book, though, the weirdest thing would happen: I'd see Gwendolyn Gillingham. She'd walking down the street, or leaving campus, and it just was such a crazy coincidence that I thought, okay. I'll keep going. So I did. I finished the book and sent it to my agent, who said it was YA. I was like, no, I'm not YA. She said, "Trust me," and because she scared me (and still kind of does, if I'm totally honest) I did. The next thing I knew, an editor was faxing me a letter telling me she liked it. And that's how I became a YA author. Totally backwards, and because of Gwendolyn Gillingham.
Okay, there was a lot of hard work in there, too. But it just goes to show that whether it's book one or ten, there is always a second story behind the one you guys see. Not usually as good, often much crazier. (Burritos and supermodels, I mean, come ON.) It's actually been kind of fun to write about this, even though I know I come off like some freaking lunatic. (Oh, well, my secret's out. Are you really that shocked? Didn't think so. )Maybe I'll do it for all my books. Although I'm not sure I can put myself THAT out there. I mean, when I was finished writing my first draft of Someone Like You, all I could think was that the middle seriously sagged. It was like a fat man in a hammock, I kept telling people. I have to get that fat man out of the hammock! It was a big job.
See what I mean about the lunatic thing? So maybe it is best that the world just sees the finished products, all lined up pretty and edited, with none of this craziness apparent. That said, I would like to thank Gwendolyn Gillingham, wherever she might be. Funny how someone won't even know how they kind of saved your life. Or made it.
Have a good night, everyone!
And usually, it is. Except when it isn't. (Gotta love that, right?) I have at least three finished YA novels sitting in storage that just Did Not Work. Characters were flat. Plot was nonexistent. Narrator was totally unlikeable, as was her best friend. (True story!) There's really not a lot worse than putting six months to a year plus into something only to realize no one will EVER see it. Except for realizing that this is a good thing. That's when you hit the ice cream store and cry a little, not necessarily in that order.
The thing is, you just never know when you start a book which one it's going to be. Like I wrote here about Just Listen a few weeks back, I was SURE it was going to end up with the other failures. It had closet storage written all over it. (So to speak.) I've been thinking lately about the backstories about ALL my books, and the one thing they have in common is that at one point or another I was sure they were all misfires. What that says about me, or them, I'm not sure. It's just, well, true.
Take my first book, That Summer. It was actually the third book I wrote: the first was this terrible entirely-too-autobiographical opus I wrote in college, the size of a doorstop, that no one should ever have to read unless they're being punished. The second, about a waitress at an outlet center restaurant who marries her high school sweetheart, only to see him become a country music star, was slightly better. It at least got me an agent, who then asked to see what else I had.
Well. I had this book with a teenage narrator, about a girl and her sister's wedding and parents' divorce. It was giving me fits at the time, seriously. I was always about one lousy writing day away from pitching it into the trash. The only things that kept me going were that I loved the idea of a family reeling from a painful divorce dealing with wedding plans, I loved the ex-boyfriend of the bride to be, and I loved that my narrator worked at a children's shoe store, just like I did in high school. I also liked this crazy subplot I had about this local girl who'd gone on to be a high fashion model, only to suffer a breakdown. I'd named her Gwendolyn, because there was a girl named Gwendolyn Gillingham who was playing for the UNC Women's Basketball team at the time, and she was SO gorgeous and SO tall. She'd been in one of my classes at UNC and I was just fascinated by her.
So there I was, working on this book, waiting tables at the Flying Burrito. I'd write during the day, then leave my house to go to work, cursing the book and myself, then spend the night slinging salsa and Flying Mayans (sweet potato and black bean burritos, the BEST). Every day that I was really ready to toss the book, though, the weirdest thing would happen: I'd see Gwendolyn Gillingham. She'd walking down the street, or leaving campus, and it just was such a crazy coincidence that I thought, okay. I'll keep going. So I did. I finished the book and sent it to my agent, who said it was YA. I was like, no, I'm not YA. She said, "Trust me," and because she scared me (and still kind of does, if I'm totally honest) I did. The next thing I knew, an editor was faxing me a letter telling me she liked it. And that's how I became a YA author. Totally backwards, and because of Gwendolyn Gillingham.
Okay, there was a lot of hard work in there, too. But it just goes to show that whether it's book one or ten, there is always a second story behind the one you guys see. Not usually as good, often much crazier. (Burritos and supermodels, I mean, come ON.) It's actually been kind of fun to write about this, even though I know I come off like some freaking lunatic. (Oh, well, my secret's out. Are you really that shocked? Didn't think so. )Maybe I'll do it for all my books. Although I'm not sure I can put myself THAT out there. I mean, when I was finished writing my first draft of Someone Like You, all I could think was that the middle seriously sagged. It was like a fat man in a hammock, I kept telling people. I have to get that fat man out of the hammock! It was a big job.
See what I mean about the lunatic thing? So maybe it is best that the world just sees the finished products, all lined up pretty and edited, with none of this craziness apparent. That said, I would like to thank Gwendolyn Gillingham, wherever she might be. Funny how someone won't even know how they kind of saved your life. Or made it.
Have a good night, everyone!
October 31, 2010
writergrl @ 2010-10-31T16:54:00
BOO!
Okay, is it just me, or does Halloween feel, well...kind of flat this year? Maybe it's that it is falling on a Sunday. Or that between preschool and family stuff we've been dressing up the toddler since Thursday. But now that it's the actual night, and just getting dark, I feel....tired. Like what I REALLY want to do is curl up in front of the fire with a glass of red wine and watch TV. Which is so NOT festive of me, I know.
It could also be the fact that because we have all these cupcakes in the house---I bought six of my favorites, from Cafe Carolina, and then my mother-in-law brought over four more---we've all been eating more sugar than usual. Which means the toddler is alternately manic and sobbing, and so am I. We don't handle sugar well, apparently. Good to know, but how can I resist cupcakes? Simply put, I cannot. Maybe if we eat a couple of big steaks everyone will just calm down a bit.
I want to be into Halloween, truly. But we live so far out that it means driving into town, wrestling daughter into costume she is officially sick of, and somehow doing something for myself as well. I had plans to be a NJ Housewife, but am now thinking I will be super lame and just wear my devil horns from last year. What is WRONG with me?
Remember when Halloween was, like, the biggest deal ever? I'd spent forever getting a costume ready, then count the moments until it was dark enough to set out. Always with a big pack of neighborhood kids, always with a big shopping bag for all the loot we'd get. I feel like a Scrooge right now, and that's not even the right holiday. Bah-pumpkin. Or whatever.
Maybe, though, this is just the reason I SHOULD dress up. I can be cynical every other day of the year: this night, I could be someone or something else. Someone with a Bump-it and a big, fake pink diamond ring, even. It's funny, because my new book is about a girl who makes habit of re-inventing herself, with a new name and persona in each new school. I love the idea of being someone else, if only for a little while: it's why I am a writer, I am sure.
(Another reason I am a writer: because my mother does things like post a Do Not Resuscitate sign right in her foyer---she just wants the EMTs to know, should they ever be called---then calls it a conversation piece. How could I be an accountant or realtor with that kind of material? It's impossible!)
So yes. Time to shake off this blah and got get the Bump-it. Which is a blonde one, which makes it even better. Halloween doesn't have to be a big deal, but it should be something. Maybe I'll just avoid the sugar and ask for beef jerky for a treat? Ummm...maybe not.
Have a good (and SAFE!) night everyone!
October 29, 2010
This just in...
...the galley has LANDED!
Now it feels REAL. Number ten!
Thank you, Allison!
Have a great weekend, everyone!
Now it feels REAL. Number ten!
Thank you, Allison!
Have a great weekend, everyone!
