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A Perfect Fall Day
Oct. 29th, 2006 03:47 pmWriting
Posted my soft SF/horror novella to my writer's group to see if they can help me with that rewrite request. The more eyes the merrier...or something like that, anyway. Heh.
Everything Else
Friday was EB's 12th birthday, so we went to the AZ State Fair (it was Armed Forces Day, so military families got in free). Ate Indian frybread, watched a hoop dance and a jingle dress dance, played skeeball, and chased YB as he drove around on a little John Deere tractor. Much fun, though we never did find a place to try the much-vaunted deep-fried Coke. I feel somewhat gypped.
Then Saturday was EB's birthday party, which meant 4 straight hours of cleaning (since I didn't get it done during the week like I'd planned). I left my "office" (really the media niche) for last and wound up just shoving paper and books into plastic bags and storing them in a closet about ten minutes before the party was supposed to start. Four bags full. Yes, I need a filing cabinet. And some bookshelves. And cupboards would be nice, too. Heh.
Anyway, EB had a blast, and it was just a really good day all around, despite both USC and my Huskers losing their respective football games. Ah, well -- happy kids trump football wins any day. :)
Interesting thing #36: I was talking with some ladies about how I knew my hubby was "The One." We were friends and coworkers at a small engineering firm. A lot of the younger engineers would hang out together on the weekends, and on one such occasion (being young and stupid), I decided to prove I could drink just as much as the guys and downed three shots of JD in under a minute (did I mention I don't really drink anymore? Now you know why). Hubby took me into the bathroom and held my hair back as I got violently ill, then cleaned up the bathroom (and me) afterwards. Then he took me outside and talked with me all night, helping me stay awake, because he knew if I passed out, I'd have the world's worst hangover in the morning.
Not a very glamorous story, but that's how I knew. Any guy who cleans up your vomit and still thinks you're pretty afterwards is a keeper. ;)
Posted my soft SF/horror novella to my writer's group to see if they can help me with that rewrite request. The more eyes the merrier...or something like that, anyway. Heh.
Everything Else
Friday was EB's 12th birthday, so we went to the AZ State Fair (it was Armed Forces Day, so military families got in free). Ate Indian frybread, watched a hoop dance and a jingle dress dance, played skeeball, and chased YB as he drove around on a little John Deere tractor. Much fun, though we never did find a place to try the much-vaunted deep-fried Coke. I feel somewhat gypped.
Then Saturday was EB's birthday party, which meant 4 straight hours of cleaning (since I didn't get it done during the week like I'd planned). I left my "office" (really the media niche) for last and wound up just shoving paper and books into plastic bags and storing them in a closet about ten minutes before the party was supposed to start. Four bags full. Yes, I need a filing cabinet. And some bookshelves. And cupboards would be nice, too. Heh.
Anyway, EB had a blast, and it was just a really good day all around, despite both USC and my Huskers losing their respective football games. Ah, well -- happy kids trump football wins any day. :)
Interesting thing #36: I was talking with some ladies about how I knew my hubby was "The One." We were friends and coworkers at a small engineering firm. A lot of the younger engineers would hang out together on the weekends, and on one such occasion (being young and stupid), I decided to prove I could drink just as much as the guys and downed three shots of JD in under a minute (did I mention I don't really drink anymore? Now you know why). Hubby took me into the bathroom and held my hair back as I got violently ill, then cleaned up the bathroom (and me) afterwards. Then he took me outside and talked with me all night, helping me stay awake, because he knew if I passed out, I'd have the world's worst hangover in the morning.
Not a very glamorous story, but that's how I knew. Any guy who cleans up your vomit and still thinks you're pretty afterwards is a keeper. ;)
