Shining the light of God's word into our confused world.

Month: September 2008 (Page 1 of 2)

Hey, you know what’s not cool? Sinus infections, as in, the thing that’s had me down and out for the last three days. That’s what. On the bright side, it afforded me some badly needed rest. I figured I was due to get sick in one way or another soon. I knew that if I didn’t slow down and get some quality rest, my body was going to rebel and force it on me, and that’s exactly what happened. So the rest has been nice. I could do without all the snot and the sore throat and the pounding headaches, though.

In other news, our AC quit working. Thankfully it waited till fall, so it’s not an emergency. We suspect we might have mice in the vents and may need to call an exterminator, but for now we’ve got a call in to our friendly home warranty service department. Pay attention, kids: if you buy a house, be prepared for it to break in all kinds of ways after you move in.

I still managed to post a couple more scenes for the Beauteous Beta Babes, so this crud hasn’t thrown me too far off schedule. I’ll try to get some more done today, since I think the antibiotics are kicking in and I can stay upright for more than thirty minutes at a time. I hope you guys are all doing better than I am. Hopefully I’ll be back in action tomorrow.

Jean is Emo

Today is trying its very best to make me go emo. It already made me cry once, the big bully–that would be this morning, when I received a rejection e-mail for “Mamie’s Pie Shop.” I like to think that if I was getting proper sleep and not hormonal and suffering cramps I’d have taken it better. I’m probably wrong, because the truth is that I’m a big ol’ thin-skinned wuss-bag. But I still like to think it.

Also, I don’t like my hair. That’s not making me emo, specifically–I really am not THAT shallow, I promise–but I’ve been gathering pics of possible future ‘dos to take with me to a stylist. Somewhere out there, floating aimlessly around the internets, is a picture of me from way back during the Chicago Buffycon in ’03 in which I had pretty good hair; but when I went searching for it all I found were old ghosts that want me to put on thick kohl eyeliner and cut myself and write bad, self-involved poetry using my own blood as the ink and then make a video of myself reading it that I can post on YouTube for the world to share my pain and try to understand the fathomless depths of my blackened soul. Or possibly just to make me cry again. Sniffle.

I need some Pamprin and a hug. And lots and lots of sleep. I ate a spoonful of peanut butter a while ago, and that made me feel a little better, until it made me want to beat myself up for using food for comfort, but I didn’t, because I mean, come on. It’s just one spoonful. It’s not like I shoved three consecutive Reese’s Pumpkins in my mouth (that was last night, and dad-gum, those things are yummy).

I’m going to spend an hour cleaning off my desk and making things orderly (to regain my sense of control, obvs), and then I’m going to edit a new scene that I wrote the other day for THF and post it for the Beautiful Beta Babes. And them I’m going to try to finish a short story I started for this before I research other markets for “Mamie’s.” And by the end of this week, I’m going to nail down a posting schedule for , and start gearing up for the launch. All because if I stay busy, I won’t have time to convince myself that one person deciding my story’s not right for their web site must mean that I’m not good enough and will only ever be a mediocre hack. Because that’s what you do when rejection happens: you pick yourself up and get back on the bike and pedal as fast and hard as you can.

More memeage

Picked up from

Ten years ago.

1. How old were you?
THEN: 25
NOW: 35

2. What was your online presence?
THEN: Phantom of the Opera discussion fora and a Geocities web site.
NOW: Web site with a real host, LJ, Blogger, Twitter, Facebook, Myspace, Etsy, Ficlets, Flickr, many and varied blog comment trails… I think that’s all.

3. Where did you work?
THEN: Department Secretary at The Williams Cos.
NOW: Project Admin at an undisclosed engineering & construction firm.

4. Where did you live?
THEN: A one-bedroom apartment in Tulsa’s Brookside neighborhood.
NOW: A three-bedroom ranch-style house in East Tulsa.

5. Who did you live with?
THEN: My pets.
NOW: My husband and our pets.

6. How was your health?
THEN: Struggled with weight, allergies, ADD and hypothyroidism. Otherwise, fairly healthy.
NOW: Still with the above, plus a sleep disorder. Otherwise, healthier and more fit.

7. What pets did you have?
THEN: Mitzi, a chihuahua, and Vanilla, a persnickety cat.
NOW: Taz (is what I think we’ve settled on calling him), another chihuahua; Niblet, aka Troublemaker Kitteh, and Sasha, aka KAP (Kitteh American Princess). In the interim there was Fizzgigg, Toy Poodle, my little sunshine. He is missed.

8. Who was your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner/spouse/S.O.?
THEN: Nobody. I was thoroughly single.
NOW: Matt.

9. Any kids? Any plans for kids?
THEN: Just the furbabies.
NOW: Still just the furbabies. There is occasional talk of possible future spawn, but no set plans.

10. What was your worst struggle?
THEN: My weight. Poor money skills. Disagreeable coworkers. Lack of formal education. Being ill-prepared for the challenges of adulthood.
NOW: Staying fit and healthy. Potty training our puppy. Time management & always too many irons in the fire. Juggling responsibilities and projects and quality time with friends & family & self. Staying motivated to write.

11. What was your biggest joy?
THEN: Getting my first apartment sans roommates, and getting to travel to NYC and London.
NOW: Being married, and being a homeowner.

12. What did you consider your greatest accomplishment?
THEN: Getting out of retail and into office work, and finally starting a novel and sticking with it.
NOW: Finishing my bachelor’s degree, maintaining a healthy marriage, getting on top of my finances, buying a house, managing to force myself to go to the gym semi-regularly, winning last year’s NaNoWriMo. Essentially, growing up.

13. What advice would you give your younger self?
Stop using those credit cards. Hang in there. When you go back to school, and you will, don’t settle for what’s closest/easiest/most affordable, but instead do what it takes to get a degree in a creative field, preferably web & graphic design. A degree in psychology will get you nothing but a fuzzy sense of accomplishment and the ability to annoy people with armchair diagnoses. Someone out there will think that you are gorgeous and sexy and wonderful and you will feel exactly the same way about him. Invest in better shoes. Stop worrying about your size; focus on your health instead. You are beautiful and worthwhile. Hang in there.

Also, get your oil changed on time.

14. What would your younger self say to you?
Oh, thank God. Except I really wish you weren’t still in office administration.

15. Looking back, is your life what you thought it would be in 2008?
Not really. I thought I’d be published and making a living as a writer by now, and I never dreamed I’d be so domestic, or so happy about it.

Two-fer on memes today

Meme the first:

I miss my old show.
When you see this, post another Buffy quote in your LJ. Let’s see how long this can go on.

So hard to choose, but here:

XANDER: Buffy, we need to talk.

BUFFY: What’s wrong? Is Dawn okay?

WILLOW: Dawn’s fine.

XANDER: Buffy we care about you and we’re worried about you. The way you’re acting, the things you’re doing…

ANYA: It’s wrong.

WILLOW: Wait this shouldn’t be about blame.

BUFFY: Blame? There’s blame now?

WILLOW: No. There’s only love. And some fear.

ANYA: We’re just kinda thrown by the you-having-sex-with-Spike.

BUFFY: The who whatting how with huh?

ANYA: Okay, that’s denial. That usually comes before Anger.

BUFFY: I am not having sex with Spike!

ANYA: Anger.

XANDER: No one is judging you. It’s understandable. Spike is strong & mysterious & sorta compact but well muscled.

BUFFY: I am *not* having sex with Spike! But I’m starting to think that *you* might be!

Meme the second:

* take a picture of yourself right now.
* don’t change your clothes, don’t fix your hair…just take a picture.
* post that picture with NO editing.
* post these instructions with your picture.

Continue reading


So we have a dog again, and things feel a little closer to right than they have since Fizzgigg’s passing. There he is, up there, in the only picture I could get him to hold relatively still for during the ride to his new digs (and if you click on the picture to embiggen, it will show him pretty much at his actual size, just like Gachnar). He was pretty trepidatious, shy and reserved, until we got him home and settled, and then his shy, delicate flower act was demonstrated to be lies! All lies!

Actually, Niblet was what prompted him to drop his little ruse. As soon as he saw her, it was exactly like his switch got flipped to ON, and then stuck there. I could practically see his thought process as this introduction happened, which went like this:

“Who are these people? Where have they brought me? These toys look nice and this bed is soft, but I just don’t know about thi–KITTY! OMG KITTY YAY KITTY GET IT GET IT PLAY PLAY PLAY RUN PLAY TOYS KITTY WHEEEEEEEEEE!!!1!” And he pretty much stayed with that line of thinking the rest of the night, as he bounced and zipped and generally wrought chaos upon the house–which I thought was a pretty good argument for naming him Cthulhu–only pausing occasionally to, um, get on more intimate terms with his new bed. Which I thought was an even better argument for naming him Captain Hammer.

But Husband put his foot down and said “No nerd names!” and so he remains nameless, because nerd names are all I’ve got. I think we’ve finally narrowed it down to Mojito and Chewie. I’m leaning toward Chewie. It satisfies my inner nerd as well as the apparent rule that chihuahuas must have Mexican-sounding names.

And what was Niblet thinking while all this was going on? The look on her face said it all. “Hey, a new bed! I shall now make it min–what the?! Oh sh–! WTF?! GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY! DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!” I gotta say, I had not a drop of sympathy for her. As I reminded her every time she gave me a look that said, “You will pay for this, hooman. Just you wait,” this was exactly what she did to Fizzgigg when she first joined our family, only with more climbing, so consider it payback from the grave. Although, I think she secretly enjoyed it. She kept coming back for more–making sure to act put upon all the while, of course. She got pretty depressed after Fizzgigg disappeared, so I think deep down she’s happy to have another amenable play & snuggle buddy.

As for Sasha, I think her thoughts went something like, “I swear I’m going to claw that little bugger’s eyes out if it gets near me,” so we tried pretty hard to make sure he didn’t. That… could be a problem. Husband might finally have to consent to allowing his little princess to have her claws clipped.

So, that was pretty much our first night. The Pup With No Name was pretty disappointed when play time turned into bedtime, but I put my Dog Whisperer skills to good use and got him to settle down and go to sleep (with no help from Husband, who totally nabbed the role of Good Cop when I was busy trying to establish some pack order. He really has no idea how pwned he is by that three pounds of Alpha Male).

This morning, though, he was nothing but a sweetheart, and I had a hard time leaving him for work. Husband reports from the homefront, though, that everybody’s getting along swimmingly and behaving themselves, and they’re having a great time hanging out together, and I can’t wait to go home and join them. It’s pretty safe to say that we’re both smitten, and No Name seems pretty happy with this arrangement, too. This was definitely a good decision.

There will be no writing tonight

And this is why:

I’m going to pick him up after work, and then I am going to take him home and feed him and pet him and love him and squeeze him and call him… probably not George. But certainly not Peewee, which is what his current/soon-to-be-previous owners inflicted upon him. It may not be as dramatic a rescue story as Fizzgigg’s, but I’ll take it.

Not!Peewee is 5 months old, and I cannot wait to meet him.

I just need a name. Any suggestions?

Pretty toes are the cure to all my woes.

I’m not sure whether it’s because I haven’t had time to indulge any of my creative outlets lately (which always drives me a little buggy and/or into a fit of despair), or if it’s that today has been particularly overwhelming (our plumbing broke, and work is trying to be stressful, and I’m having to stay at the office really late to make up the time I lost this morning to the broken plumbing), or if it’s just general tiredness (this weekend was productive, as far as putting things away and getting organized, but it was pretty dumb of me not to just get some rest), but I’m dealing with some pretty major self-doubt right now.

Specifically, I’m doubting whether Hero Factor is worth even finishing, let alone posting. I’ve been working on this story for far longer than common sense would allow, and by this point finishing it is more a matter of principle than desire. Well, sometimes there’s desire. I still love these characters and I want their story to be told. But at times like these the only thing that keeps me going is principle, because I’ve got too many unfinished stories under my belt and by golly, this won’t be one of them.

Unless maybe it should be. Maybe it’s time to let it go and move on.

What I really need right now is a pedicure. Thirty minutes in a pedi chair is as good as any massage, plus at the end I have pretty feet to show for it. And it would put me in the right frame of mind to make these kinds of decisions; the kind that probably wouldn’t even arise were I getting proper amounts of R&R; the kind of non-dilemma wherein I should stop whining and get to writing.

Right then. I guess that’s settled.

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