Showing posts with label brownies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brownies. Show all posts

Thursday, July 14, 2011

The End!

Done!

Finished!

The first draft.

But it's done! After restarting the final chapter 4 different times, I finally got it right. The determination to sit here until it was finished set in. My kids return home from summer camp on Saturday. Time was running short. We're also still cleaning their rooms and that needs to be finished, and we're gearing up for a garage sale, too. Plus, I bribed myself with brownies. Chocolate brownies, a great motivator.

"Self, if you finish this chapter, you may bake brownies."

Lo and behold, it worked. Shocking.

It's now in Sherry MeaniePants' inbox, and Angie MeaniePants' inbox, too. Oh, yeah, and Mom's too, but she, as anyone who's read my blog recently knows, "Just wants to read it."

I already have another project in mind, born from my rant about a certain movie the other day. I thought to myself, "Gee, how would YOU have written that?" So, I started putting together a character list last night, and will work on that later this afternoon, after I've done a few chores, now that the other one is done. Still contemplating on the historical, if I'm going to try to fix it, or just let it fade from my consciousness. I hate to give it up, but... but... but...So many pros and cons there.

Moving right along...We went up to the summer camp where our boys are late yesterday afternoon. It was parents' night. For our #3 (in birth order) Son, it's his first year at camp, all by himself, except that his brothers are there. He didn't appear to be suffering any major homesickness. No clingy kid, no tearful begging to go home with us, in fact, if when he was busy doing other stuff, Mom and Dad became invisible. He hasn't changed clothes since he left home. He sleeps in his scout uniform, which must be a good time saver in the morning, seeing as he's not a morning person. I did make him fetch his washcloth for a face scrubbing. His question? "Do I have to wash my WHOLE face?"

#2 Son has been changing his socks and shirts every day. His face was dusty, and when I suggested he wash it, he told me he'd washed his face once already this week. He's continually helping #3 find the orange wristbands all campers must wear, that always falls off #3's arm. #2 found a broken one, and is carrying it around in his pocket for the day #3 loses his armband for good. #2 let me hug him before we left---he's Mr. No Hugs Allowed, always been that way.

#1 Son showed me his elbows. "Look, Mom, dirty elbows!" A broad, happy grin accompanied the elbow show and tell. He's also been changing his socks and shirts every day. All is well. He has a tent to himself (they're 2 people tents on a wooden platform, with old timey springy bed frames and plastic covered camping mattresses. Could be worse.

All is well, and it was awesome seeing them obviously thriving there at camp, and so obviously not missing Mom and Dad. We said our goodbyes, hugged each kid, then stood there for a moment watching them go back to their activities. I'm positive not a single one watched us walk away. And that's great! They're having fun, they're doing well, they're building memories. That's what it's all about.

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Detail makes the difference between boring and terrific writing. It’s the difference between a pencil sketch and a lush oil painting. As a writer, words are your paint. Use all the colors. ~Rhys Alexander

Write your story as it needs to be written. Write it honestly, and tell it as best you can. I'm not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter. ~Neil Gaiman

Great is the art of beginning, but greater is the art of ending. ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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Saturday, May 01, 2010

Mr. Roger's Neighborhood...

It's a gorgeous spring morning, and what song do I have stuck in my head?

"It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, won't you be mine? Please. Won't you be mine?"

How come I can remember the opening song to that PBS show "Mr. Roger's Neighborhood," but I can't remember things like where I left my keys? Which is more important? The ability to sing the Please Won't You Be...Mah Neighbor song or the ability to zero in on the blasted keys? Once, I was looking for the keys frantically. (Okay, I look for my keys frantically more times than I care to admit, but just go with it for the sake of the story, huh?) I KNEW I'd left them on my purse. They were not with my purse. Finally, in exasperation, I asked the kids, "Have you seen my keys?" My oldest son said, "Mom, I hung them up on the key rack for you." Clearly I never USE the key rack myself, so it hadn't occurred to me to look there. Sure enough, my keys hung from one of the hooks. Thanks, kid, for hanging up my keys and giving me heart failure, all at the same time. He smirked. Teenagers.

I've noticed a frightening phenomenon in my house. It's called "Nobody Notices The Dishes Need to Be Done But Mom." This also applies to noticing that the trash and recycling needs to be taken out. That the bathroom(s) need to be cleaned. That the vacuuming needs to be done. Kids aren't going to be happy, but starting like, yanno, Monday, they're going to have to do chores before they go outside to play. Homework, chores, THEN you can play. Don't whine and complain about it, I'm not responsible for the pee puddles that have accumulated on and around the toilet in your bathroom, mainly for 2 reasons: 1. I don't use your bathroom (because of the pee puddles) and 2. Girls don't have to aim and clearly YOU guys don't think YOU need to aim, either.

So, with Mom visiting at the end of the week, I'm on a mission today. Yep. A cleaning mission. Lucky me. I can hardly wait. Actually, I can wait. Because, yanno, I'm so excited about having to find a chair to stand on so I can clean the microwave over the stove. I'm short, it's up high, I can't reach into it to wipe it down on a regular basis. Unfortunately for me, the last, um...several times I've used it, the food has exploded and made a big, nasty, ugly mess. Mr. Laura noticed the mess in there and asked, "What happened to the microwave?" Me: "It needs to be cleaned." Him: "Oh." And he closed the microwave door and walked away from it. Fits right in with the phenomenon I mentioned above. My mom's short, too, like me, so mebbe she won't notice the disgusting state of my microwave? Hope springs eternal. Don't let this make you think my house is thisclose to being declared unfit for human habitation. So far, the EPA hasn't noticed the green haze hovering over our house, and the neighbors haven't complained, either. Hehe. No, seriously. It's not THAT bad. (Yet.)

I have a small consolation, however. Mr. Laura is taking ALL the boys to man a booth with the Boy Scout troop at whatever whatty is going on downtown today. They're leaving probably in the next hour. No, you don't hear me cheering. Really. That must be your computer making some weird noise. You really should have that checked. They'll be gone until mid-afternoon, returning in time to eat and leave (Mr. Laura and the older two) to go to a merit badge class this evening. It'll just be the youngest stinker and me tonight, until after nine. No. You don't hear me cheering. He'll probably make me watch something like Cars. Which is fine and cute, but it's not my favorite. I'd rather watch something non-animated, and preferably with eye candy. Mebbe I can con him into watching Wolverine. *Ahem.* If Mr. Jackman didn't wish to be oogled by housewives across the world, he should've gone into a different line of work. One that doesn't require he climb a rock, nekkid. Yeah. Really. We went and saw this movie on Mother's Day 2 years ago, right? And right there, on the big screen, my Mother's Day present: Nekkid Hugh Jackman butt. I thanked my husband for the nice gift and he told me, "You're welcome. Now you can't say I don't love you."

Serious digression there.

So...in the middle of all this cleaning that will be going on today, and daydreaming about my reward (Wolverine)... I have one more consolation gift. A brownie from Mimi's Cafe, complete with ice cream and chocolate sauce to drizzle on it. Brought it home from lunch yesterday, when I Mr. Lauranapped Mr. Laura from work to go out to lunch with me. Is it lunchtime yet? I know what I'm having and hopefully, it won't be bleach-scented chocolate brownie with ice cream and chocolate sauce. Maybe I should wait to start that portion of the cleaning until AFTER I've et.

Hmmmm...

Decisions, decisions...

An added bonus... maybe I'll get to write today. Sure. Go ahead. Hold your breath. I'll catch you when you faint from lack of oxygen.

Happy Saturday!