(in either the case of WANTING to or the case of hoping to avoid it. Note, however, that having published this, if you use it in the 'to cause' category, this knowledge MAY move you from negligent homicide to Murder 1)
First, if you are stopping by as a part of NaBloWriMo, WELCOME!
Second, if you don't know what NaBloWriMo is and you think you might want to Blo a little among friends this month, check out here *shifty * (and understand that around here, innuendo is par for the course)
THIRD: I turned in my 2nd Cozy (Begonia Bribe) to my Editor yesterday (and there was much rejoicing). I still have Kahlotus revisions ahead of me... I've had a really unfocused week on that front... rain, work, this other deadline... so I have probably a week left there. Then, instead of a rewrite on What Ales Me, I've decided getting that 3rd Garden Cozy (dibbed Chrysanthemum Campaign) going is a higher priority. I don't want to have that rushed revision thing where my agent ends up with an unreasonable amount of cleaning again. So I am going to PLOT it this month and start writing. (November is still committed to Medium Wrong—I just want to finish my first draft of the Cozy before the end of December so there is time for the revisions and peer reads and such)
Okay... and NOW
How HWMNBMOTI (He who must not be mentioned on the internet for the uninitiated) Almost Killed me.
My son is an 8th grader this year and the BIG DEAL special thing their class does as they finish middle school is a trip to Chicago in May—3 days, 300 8th graders—it is a fun, bonding before high school, not some mamby pamby learning experience. They have a dinner cruise and go to Six Flags... you know... the stuff they WANT to do...
But it is a privilege... something hung over their head all year to prompt good behavior, citizenship, volunteering, earning some of their own money (okay, so maybe there IS some learning related to this venture)... and the demands are stiff—you have to learn what is expected, sign off (literally), pay up front (almost $600)...
The Part Where I Died
So I get home from a FABULOUS night (my neighbors and I, of the Couch to 5K project, ended last nights jog at Wolverine, our local Brewery for a beer—we decided we will do it the last Friday of every month), and when I walked into the house afterward, HWMNBMOTI said, 'so I guess you're going to school at 7am tomorrow?'
Being me, I responded, “What?”
“For Chicago. You didn't go to a meeting earlier this week. It said tomorrow is the make-up.”
“What are you talking about? It was October.”
[see, there is a parent/child MEETING for the signing I mentioned... required attendance]
“Look on the pink sheet on the bulletin board.”
So I do... believe me. It is much easier to do what he says when he gets grouchy... And the pink sheet lists meetings... September 27th or 28th at 7pm... make up 7am, October 1st. CRAP! (only I probably used a worse word)
I have to tell you, I died a little. And I did what any woman in my position would do... I whined... and complained that the middle school weekly email had said NOTHING... that my son, who I KNEW wanted to go had said nothing...
Son was in the shower, so I had a good 15 minutes to continue dying. Then he got out and we had the chance to give him a solid questioning...
“They changed it. It's on that green sheet.”
“Um... what green sheet?”
He swore he handed it to me. My memory sucks, so he may have... It listed NEW dates in mid October... So I think the INFORMATION registered, just not the transmission of it (my brain often works this way... it is why nobody believes I know what I'm talking about—I don't remember where I heard it)
But MAN, did I breathe a sigh of relief at not having to be at the bloody middle school at 7 am with my son (who said he'd give up the trip before going at that hour)
So I hope you all have a great weekend!