Lost in the mail

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Can you believe it! My proof was lost in the mail!

I wonder if it was delivered to the wrong address, and the recipient has not even looked at the package yet. After all, I’m sure there are many people who only open their mail once a month or so.
-or-
It may have fallen off a conveyor belt in the post office, and it is gathering dust behind all the noisy machines. But since my book is a friendly book, so I’m sure it will be making friends with all the other lost packages that have fallen behind the machinery throughout the years.
-or-
Aliens from Jupiter had read the first book, and just couldn’t wait to read the next one!

Naughty aliens!

Impatience

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I should have known! Today is Sunday, and the proof copy of Cerulea isn’t here yet.

Doesn’t it seem that the more something is anticipated, the longer it takes to arrive? Like…like…Christmas, or a loved one who has been away, or maybe a vacation. You wait, and wait, and wait and it seems that you have to keep waiting FOREVER.

Things that are dreaded, well, there is no slowing down how fast they come! A test, morning after a long night, and Monday appear magically. Blink your eyes, and there it is!

Five days

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Five days! That is all I have to wait until I have the Cerulea in my hands!

The proof has been printed and is on the way. The feelings I am experiencing are just like those I had with the “birth” of Braumaru. Anxiety, excitement, fear, joy, etc.

Yes, yes, yes. I know that publishing a book is not the same as giving birth to a baby. I do have 4 children after all! I have experienced the joys and pains of childbirth.

But still, there are some similarities….

Schnoodle

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After years of listening to begging, pleading, and cajoling, my husband and I have caved.

We now have a Schnoodle. Not that it was particularly a Schnoodle that our kids were asking for, a Schnoodle is just the particular breed we chose.

What is a Schnoodle, you may ask? It is the cutest puppy in the world. Part Schnauzer, and part Poodle. She is 9 weeks old, soft, friendly, and cute.

We have had her 3 1/2 hours, and we have already taken her outside 3 times. So far, so good!

I hope we’re not in over our heads!

Plastic monster, myth or reality

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Plastic. Everywhere I look there is plastic. Plastic bottles, plastic table cloths, plastic plates, plastic chairs, plastic spoons, plastic forks, plastic tables, plastic shoes, and on and on and on.

I wonder if the inventor of plastic ever imagined what a monster he/she was creating.

Plastic seems harmless enough. It’s easy to clean, resists breaking, is light-weight, and can be make into any shape desired. And oh, it can last virtually forever.

Which is the biggest problem of plastic. It seems that creating things out of material that lasts forever may not be such a good idea after all.

But when it comes to environmental lore, how do we separate fact from fiction? Which stories are true, and which have been constructed to push an agenda forward.

Take for example the following story about the world’s dependence on plastic:

Somewhere out there, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, there is a place where the water swirling clockwise meets water swirling counterclockwise, and a vortex is formed. This vortex has acted as a natural vacuum cleaner for the ocean, pulling in bits and pieces of plastic to this one location. The accumulation is said to cover an area the size of Texas.

My first thought is:

Texas! Couldn’t it at least be a smaller state, like Rhode Island, or maybe Connecticut? And who, pray tell, is going to take on the gargantuan task of emptying the trash out of the vacuum? I can just hear the echoes across the world of “It’s not my mess”.

But then I begin to analyze. Who says this plastic Texas exists? Do they have an agenda they are trying to push? Has any reasonably unbiased group studied this?

So now I am reserving judgement. The report comes from a group that is not known for being unbiased.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that the story is untrue, it just means that I cannot yet accept it as fact.

First person vs third person

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I am working on my newest book, and I just cannot decide if I want to write it in first or third person. I originally wrote it in third person, I then converted to first person, and now I’ve converted it again into third. I need to make up my mind soon.

So here is the same text, in different ‘persons’:
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“Look! There’s the sign! This is it, turn right here!” I yelled.

I realized that yelling in an enclosed space like the car probably wasn’t a good idea as I watched my husband jump at the sound of my voice. He swerved to the right to make the requested turn, and then turned to look at me in surprise. I am usually much calmer than this.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” I admitted sheepishly and cringed at the expression on my husband’s face. I glanced toward the back of the car to see if my loudness had upset the children who were being suspiciously quiet, and was relieved to find they had all fallen asleep.

“I am just so frustrated,” I continued quietly. “Do you realize we have been driving over half an hour, and we still cannot find that stupid road?”

“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Tony consoled. “How are we doing on time?”

“We still have another half hour before her appointment,” I admitted, “but that doesn’t take into account that we are supposed to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. So in reality we really only have 15 minutes to find this place.”

I turned again to look at the sleeping children in the backseat. This wild goose chase of a drive had come about because my oldest daughter, Becca, struggled with chronic asthma. When I had heard that a neighbor’s child had been all but cured by one of the local doctors, I had immediately called to make an appointment for my child.

The receptionist had firmly but calmly informed me that the doctor was no longer taking new patients, and that there was a long list of people who were waiting for an opening. Pride had flown out the window as I had begged and pleaded, and had somehow managed to convince the receptionist to find room for my child.

So I knew that it was paramount that my family arrived for the appointment on time. If we blew this chance, there was no way we would be given a second chance. Which is why I had allowed a full hour for what should have been a 10 minute drive.
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“Look! There’s the sign! This is it, turn right here!” Vanessa yelled frantically.

Tony jumped at the sudden loud sound of his wife’s voice, swerved to the right to make the requested turn, and then turned to look at her in surprise. Vanessa was usually much calmer than this.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell,” Vanessa admitted sheepishly as she noticed the expression on her husband’s face. She glanced toward the back of the car to see if she had upset the children who were being suspiciously quiet, and was relieved to find they had all fallen asleep.

“I am just so frustrated,” Vanessa continued quietly. “Do you realize we have been driving over half an hour, and we still cannot find that stupid road?”

“We’ll find it, don’t worry,” Tony consoled. “How are we doing on time?”

“We still have another half hour before her appointment,” Vanessa admitted, “but that doesn’t take into account that we are supposed to be there 15 minutes early to fill out paperwork. So in reality we really only have 15 minutes to find this place.”

Vanessa turned again to look at the sleeping children in the backseat. This wild goose chase of a drive had come about because her oldest daughter, Becca, struggled with chronic asthma. When Vanessa had heard that a neighbor’s child had been all but cured by one of the local doctors, she had immediately called to make an appointment for her child.

The receptionist had firmly but calmly informed Vanessa that the doctor was no longer taking new patients, and that there was a long list of people who were waiting for an opening. Vanessa had begged and pleaded, and had somehow managed to convince the receptionist to find room for her child.

So Vanessa knew that it was paramount that her family arrived for the appointment on time. If they blew this chance, there was no way they would be given a second chance. Which is why Vanessa had allowed a full hour for what should have been a 10 minute drive.
********************************************************************************

I have to choose the person before the next rewrite, because it is time to choose a path.

In first person I can be friendlier and let the reader really know what is in the Vanessa’s head. But I won’t be able to give other people’s points of view.

In third person the reader will be kept at a greater distance, but can see from more angles.

What to do, what to do!

Censored Post about Cracker-related-catchphrase

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Sometimes there are inside ‘jokes’ that just need to be explained.

Take for example the following conversation I heard in my house last night.

Daughter: Let’s watch a movie.
Dad: I’ll go for that. What do you want to watch?
Daughter: Well let’s see. We have 3 Netflix movies…’4 Muskateers’, ‘License to Wed’, and ‘National Treasure: Book of Secrets’. With a sneer Who put those movies on the list?
Dad: Let’s watch ‘National Treasure: Book of Secrets’!
Daughter: Let’s not, that would be like cracker-related-catchphrase, which has been deleted per daughter’s request.

We immediately understood what she meant, but anyone outside our family hearing this conversation would be seriously confused. So let me explain what ‘cracker-related-catchphrase’ means to my daughter.

All of my daughters love to snack on crackers of all kinds, so we typically keep several different types in the house. The two types we keep most often are Cracker brand 1 and Cracker brand 2.

A short while ago, Cracker brand 2 started appearing on store shelves in a variety of flavors. We, of course, had to try them all.

My daughter took one bite of cracker-related-catchphrase and was immediately hooked. These crackers burst with an overabundance of flavor, so there is little wonder that they can be immediately addicting. She was so enamored with the flavor that she ate almost the entire box in one sitting (unusual for her).

She then proceeded to become very ill. She has not eaten a cracker-related-catchphrase since.

So if she says something is like cracker-related-catchphrase, she means that it is overkill. Too much of a good thing is no longer a good thing. It’s just too much.

All instances that might lead to the discovery of the cracker-related-catchphrase have been deleted at the request of my daughter. There is nothing wrong with the catchphrase. She just likes to protect her privacy.

Travel to the Land of Illusion

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I visited Universal Studios with a few members of my family. My favorite ‘ride’ was the tour of the studios.

Did I see any stars? Not to my knowledge. But I must tell you that people might look different in the real world than they do on the screen. The sets certainly do!

The truly amazing thing is that we took several pictures of the sets, and they look like they do on the big screen! Our camera is just as fooled as the more expensive, professional cameras. Can I ever again trust what the camera tells me?

Probably not, now that I’ve seen with my own eyes how easily the camera lies (or is fooled).

I particulary liked one of the older sets. The tour guide told how one side of the street has all the windows and doors smaller than normal, while the other side has larger than normal windows and doors.

Why you ask?

They would film the men in front of the smaller than normal doors/windows, so that the men appeared larger and more masculine. The women would be filmed in front of the larger than normal doors/windows so that they would appear more dainty.

Who knew?

Dreaming

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Spiders, everywhere I look there are big, black, long-legged spiders. But none of the people around me, all wearing matching Hawaiian shirts, seem to be the least bothered. They just go about their business, oblivious to the possible dangers that abound.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain on the palm of my hand, immediately followed by another. I look at my hand in horror, because there, on my open palm, are two of those horrible creatures injecting me with their venom.

I frantically shake my hand to dislodge the spiders and look to see what damage is done. Already the venom is beginning to take effect. Two large, white bulbs of goo are growing, expanding like balloons on a helium machine. The pain becomes almost unbearable.

What can I do? I know there is an antidote for the venom. I must find it fast. I must find the antidote before…

And I wake up.

But even awake, the anxious feeling stays. For the next few hours, the world is still populated with oblivious people in Hawaiian shirts. The spiders still abound, and I still need to find the antidote.