The Dealmaker's Apprentice

I am not one of those people who can get a screaming deal on things. I can not talk people down. I can't keep my eye out for the sales. I can not spot a great deal from a mile away. Sadly, I just don't have the gift.

Which makes me appreciate even more when others share their gift with me! My mom bought some $5 off any purchase at Kohl's coupons from eBay. Right there: Something I'd never even think of! She invited me and my sister to tag along, and shop the clearance sale.

I have now experienced the high that expert shoppers get!

I bought all of this stuff.... $102.96 worth of stuff....


For $3.48. !!!!! I'm not even kidding. (We won't mention the fact that NONE of it was stuff we actually needed. That takes all the fun right out of it.) If someone took me on as their shopping apprentice, I might find that I actually like shopping.

As long as it didn't take too long.

A New Inner Editor Set Up Shop In My Brain

Remember THIS POST where I talked about my inner editor, Miss Stakeless, and how I wanted to get her fired?


Well guess what? She quit!! I started this new book, and she said, "I'm way too old for this. I really can't make it through another one of your books." We had a tearful goodbye, and then she left.

So, I called Dood on his cell phone and asked if he wanted the job.


He was in Australia, shredding some serious waves. He said that he was unwilling to leave such perfect crests, but more importantly, I wasn't ready for him as an inner editor yet. (Whatever, Dood.)

For someone who seems so one track minded, he can be surprisingly astute. And he did recommend someone else to do the job. I am happy to report that I hired her.

She's an Editing Magician, or E.M., but she likes it when I call her "Auntie Em."



So far, we've gotten along great! I give her free roam of the brain kitchens, and she likes to bake cookies while I write. My brain likes the smell of cookies while it works. While I'm writing a first draft, she only stops by to tell me I used a passive voice, or that I haven't varied my sentence structure enough every 9 to 11 minutes, instead of constantly, like Miss Stakeless did.

I love her. I love her cookies. I love her smiling face. I hope she likes living in my brain. I gave her a room with lots of windows, where there is always sunshiny days. There are big, comfy chairs, and lots of yarn for knitting. I even placed her in the part of my brain furthest from my imagination, so she can go for an evening stroll and not worry about bad guys or monsters suddenly appearing on the paths through my brain.

Until she's ready to retire, or I'm ready to have Dood for an inner editor, I hope we can do good things together.

Big Potato Ditty

I like big potatoes, I cannot lie
When I bake them or when I fry
Teeny ones make me squeal
Cuz they’re so hard to peel
So, to them I say “Goodbye!”

I like big potatoes my hubby knows
From a truck off the road he chose
Some awfully big taters
Than my head, they’re greater
Don’t quite know what to do with those....

Update to "Sometime It Hits Home Anyway" Post

My high school friend's brother who adopted two kids from Haiti, but hadn't been able to bring them home yet: They found both children! They are alive and doing well. Just a couple of days ago, they were able to bring home their son, and they are still working to bring home their daughter.

No word on the birth mom for the kids that go to my school yet.

The Genre that Rocks

Genre’s a weird word, don’t you think? If you ask me, they should just call it what it is— Category.

You probably have a few favorite genres you like to read or watch. And favorite sub-genres. And genres you’d much rather let gather dust on a shelf.

There are genres I like to write, and other genres I would rather.... um, leave to someone else to write.

When I think about the stories I’ve written (including the stories that were only meant for a very small audience), I’m a little surprised at how many sub-genres there were. I’ve written an adventure, a paranormal, a heist story, a realistic fiction, a couple of fairy tales, a fantasy, and then there’s Green Bomb, the one I’m writing now.

The coolest genre of them all.

One genre you could call it is Post-Apocalyptic. Besides being a genre I have loved since I was a kid, isn’t it just the coolest sounding name ever?

A-poc-a-lyp-tic

As you’re saying it, doesn’t every single syllable makes your mouth happy? And your ears. Plus, there’s that giddy feeling you get inside when you think about reading / watching a great post-apocalyptic tale. Right?

The second genre is one that I honestly didn’t even know existed until about a year ago. Steam Punk. Isn’t that just another incredibly awesome sounding genre? From the first time I heard it, I wanted to write in it.

Apparently it’s been around since the 80s, so maybe you’ve known about it since forever. If you’re like me and haven’t, I’ll let you in on the secret. It basically means that the society / setting in which the story happens doesn’t have electricity. They never had it, or they lost it, or they chose to move away from it, so everything they use in their world is different from what we use. And believe me, that part is challenging! And fun. But hard. Really hard.

But oh my gosh. Did I mention it’s fun? My main character, Livi, is a twelve year old girl who lives forty years after “the end of the world,” as they band together and make something new of life. She’s so very unlike me in so many ways— she’s bold, reckless, spunky, brave, spontaneous, athletic, daring— but dang if she isn’t the character whose head I’ve had the easiest time stepping into as I write.

So, since at this moment, I can say what my official genre is for my book and no one can say boo about it, (Well, okay, you could. But it doesn’t mean I have to change it.) here is my genre:

Middle Grade Post-Apocalyptic Steam Punk

Say it out loud. Really. Doesn’t it make you all sorts of happy when you do? (Or is it just me?)

So, other than the King Of All Genres (a.k.a. Middle Grade Post-Apocalyptic Steam Punk), what genres do you love?

Sometimes it hits home anyway

I don't watch the news.

The news usually makes me sad.

I don't like to be sad if I can help it.

So, when I saw headlines everywhere about the quake in Haiti, I didn't even click on the links. I ignored everything about it, hoping not to hear stories that would make my heart break.

Then, a friend from high school who is also a Facebook friend started posting status updates about her brother who had adopted two kids from Haiti, but hadn't been able to bring them home yet. They were two years into a process where they have to go to Haiti to hang out with their children, and where the children know them as Mom and Dad. In my friend's status updates, she said that after the earthquake, the kids were missing.

As if it weren't bad enough to adopt a couple of adorable kids, and then not be able to bring them home. Now they had to deal with their children being in an earthquake ravaged country, and to not know if they were alive or dead.

About a day ago, they got word that their son has been found, but not their daughter. The parents are flying there tomorrow to do everything they can.

*

There is a family that I love that go to our school. There are fourteen kids in this family, and most of them are adopted. I aide in the fourth grade, and this family has FOUR fourth graders. One of the fourth graders, a kid who I absolutely love to chat books with, told me yesterday that everyone in their family was wearing red because four of their siblings--- four that were blood siblings that they adopted--- were from Haiti. Their birth mom is missing. He sang me a song that his dad wrote about it, and about the country, and about the adopted kids, and I wanted to cry.

I guess some things that happen in the world are so big, they hit home-- right in the heart-- whether you want them to or not.

Someone Named it Wrong

I was talking with my kids last night about why we have school off today. They already knew that it was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and that it's the day we celebrate that all people are equal. I was thrilled that they got it.


My favorite part of the conversation, though, was when one kid said, "Shouldn't it be called 'Martin Luther Prince Day,' instead of 'Martin Luther King Jr. Day?' Because a 'Junior King' is a 'Prince.'"

Logic. It'll get you every time.

Dang Warehouse Stores

So, I was shopping at a warehouse store, and found walnuts. I thought to myself, "I'm always looking for protein for kid snacks, and my kids like walnuts!" So, I bought them.

Come to find out my kids only actually eat walnuts when they find them on the ground, still in the shell. (I blame the same instincts that make people want to fish. Good ole hunter and gatherer genes at work.)

So now, (dang those warehouse stores!) I have a HUMONGOUS bag of walnuts. I'm not kidding-- it's huge! It takes like three people to lift it.

Any ideas of what to do with them?

It was bound to happen

I guess when you're working with eight different cans of paint, and constantly mixing tons more colors, and working in this small of space...


That this is bound to happen:


Yes, that's my hair. No, it's not normally orange.

I sleep like the dead

No, not in a coffin. Because holy claustrophobia! My bedroom sure would be a lot roomier if I did, though.

No, I'm not trying to say I'm someone who sleeps so deeply that they regularly go through all of labor except the pushing, with no epidural, while sleeping. (Believe it or not, I actually know someone who uses this UNFATHOMABLE method of childbirth.)

But I'm talking about the way I sleep.

I sleep on my back, with my hands folded on my stomach, and I don't move from when I get in my dead-man's position at night until the alarm goes off in the morning. (Assuming no one gets out of bed and takes a single step in my house during the night. That's sure to wake me.)

My way of sleeping is not entirely unlike this little guy. Except I've found that it's can be very painful to wake up on your keyboard. (For a few years when I first had kids, I worked for hours during the middle of every night. I fell asleep on my keyboard more times than I'm willing to admit.)


I'm curious. How do you sleep? Side? Back? Stomach? Coma-like, or constantly moving?