Day in the Life of an Idiot

If you've never checked out "There, I Fixed It", you kinda should. Shawn turned me on to this site, and it's an awesome time waster. I will admit that sometimes I look at the "fixes" and think, "what's wrong with that?" Anyone whose been to my house has seen at least one of these in operation. (I won't say which. It's not on the first page, though.)

In other news it's sort-of-kind-of half-a$$ed raining right now. We really need the sky to open up and flippin' pour, but that doesn't seem to be forthcoming. I may need to complain to the management. Anyone got a direct line?

Meanwhile, my talking cat may have morphed into a psyhic ferret, but I haven't sat down to do any real writing yet today, so that's still undetermined. Shawn and I spent a long time talking about my vision for the world of the young-adult novel last night, and those kinds of discussions are always good for my brain (and hopefully the story.) I wonder how people deal with having non-writing-supportive partners/spouses. If I couldn't bounce ideas off Shawn at nine o'clock at night, I'd have to have some kind of life line to call. Probably I'd call the other Sean in my life, but I suspect he'd get pretty sick of me. I tend to need a lot of hand-holding/encouragement/just-shut-up-and-let-me-talk at the beginning of a big project like this. Shawn has learned when to let me ramble, when to say "there, there" (and not much else, and when to go into a full blown brainstorm session. Because I don't always need the latter. Sometimes I just like to sing a complaining song, as Pooh would say, and sometimes I just need to hear how something sounds out loud, you know?

Mason, mysteriously, has gotten some kind of starring role in the Kindergarten Celebration (graduation ceremony?) at Crossroads. When I asked him about it (one of the other parents said she heard he had a "solo"), he did his classic blank stare. "I don't remember," is what I usually get next. Will you be singing? "I don't remember." Reciting poetry? "I don't remember. I get time at the microphone." Doing what? "I don't remember."

What I think this really means is: "I'm too overloaded right now to think of what you mean. The whole day has become a blur to me. Tilt!" This, to me, is the biggest crime of full-day kindergarten. Mason comes home completely wiped out. I bring along a book so he can go nose-down into it, and he seems to recover quickly if he has that kind of retreat from the sensory overload of his day. But sometimes critical information gets lost. Like this celebration. So I asked his teacher about it this morning, but she told me she wants to keep it "a surprise." Fun, but frustrating. If I thought Mason's *intention* was to keep it a secret, that'd be one thing. But he too shell-shocked at the end of the day to remember...

I at least got the day out of her: Tuesday, July 28. Now we just have to figure out when and we can plan to be there. I'll be curious to find out what this "time at the microphone" is. I'm sure he'll be awesome. Despite this curious pheonmenon of the end of the day blank slate brain, Mason actually has a phenomenal memory. He can recite poetry he's read only once or twice fairly perfectly, and easily remembers song lyrics and tunes. So whatever it is, I'm sure he'll rock at it.

The other big excitement for us is that Mason's 6th birthday is fast approaching. He's decided he wants a Halloween themed party (in July) completely with costumes. We usually have his party outdoors (saves on the cleaning, and kids can usually amuse themselves easily with a kiddie pool, spray bottles and water ballons). So we're trying to come up with a way to have Halloween at the kiddie pool combinations. I think we've got it, but trust Mason to come up with something completely off the wall.

Here in Minnesota it's one of those days when the wind is chilly and the sky is overcast and gray. It would be dismal, except that today is the day that all the lilacs are blooming and large portions of Saint Paul are decked out with their purple and white buds. The air smells like spring. I just wish the clouds would make good on their promise and rain. We could use it. The grass seed is languishing without any moisture.

Also, I'm a bit down today because I have some sad news to convey to all of you ARCHANGEL PROTOCOL fans. I'm not going to make my June deadline for RESURRECTION CODE. Tate has been just too damn busy; she sucked up a lot of my time. I've asked the publisher for an extension, but no one has gotten back to me yet (perhaps the Mad Norwegians are angry?) Fingers crossed that everyone will be amenable to the new proposed deadline... which I've set for December. Though hopefully that's conservative.

Sorry everyone. I think if I hadn't had so much trouble starting this book, I'd have been a lot further along by now. But it's a book that's close to my heart and that I want to do justice by and all that ends up making it that much more difficult to write, you know?

I need to get working now, honestly. I've got a proposal for more Garnet books that need finishing, a YA to start, and, of course, Mouse to continue on. Sometimes I think about that phrase: "Be careful what you wish for" and remember all those times I said to myself, "I hope I get to the point where I'm writing more than one book a year!" (How about three? Is that enough for you!)

It's especially hard right now because of Mason's schedule. He's off school in his crazy year-round schedule until just after Memorial Day. So my daytime writing time is shot all to heck (I wouldn't even be on-line, except he's into video games right now.)

Well, wish me luck.

Too nice outside to blog... imagine me knee-deep in dirt in my overgrown with weeds backyard, digging in the dirt and planting the hundred dollars worth of plants (about six) that I bought at Highland Nursery.  Mason is playing with the garden hose getting wet and muddy and giggling every time water splashes him (which is often.)