Random Thursday, with 76% more Technology Content

After much debate and a desperate e-mail to the fabulous and infinitely patient Sarah Wendell over at Smart Bitches, I’ve decided to get a Sony Touch.  I thought I might spring for the Daily Edition with free 3G and WiFi, but I’ve decided that it’s not worth the extra bucks.  All I want is to conserve shelf space by keeping as many virtual reference books as possible and save on chiropractors by not lugging my manuscript or Netbook around in my bag when I want to make notes or edit on the go.  Don’t need bells and whistles for that.

Besides, I’m beginning to think that WiFi is the root of all time suck . . . Wow—that sounded a lot dirtier than I thought it would.

oooOOOooo

My family is on a Shel Silverstein kick right now.

I love all of Mr.  Silverstein’s  work with the sole exception of Runny Babbit.  I’m incapable of reading it the way it’s printed on the page and trying for more than three minutes gives me stabbing pains in my left eye and a queasy stomach.

Naturally, my children adore Runny and his aneurysm-inducing adventures , so I have passed the responsibility for the reading of this book to the other adults in our immediate vicinity, in addition to Fox in Socks* and Amelia Bedelia.**

oooOOOooo

I was searching the 1930s newspaper microfilm the other day and caught sight of a one-panel cartoon called The Girls, which features ladies of a certain age and outlook.

In this one, the lady was trying on hats in a shop and telling her impatient husband in the caption, “No, I’ve made my final decision.  Now I have to make every decision that comes after that.”

It may have been microfilm-daze, but that sounded incredibly profound to me.

oooOOOooo

Twitter-training this afternoon for the library’s new feed!  Judging from the verbal staff observations around here, it’s just as well our tweets are moderated by the PR department.  Our library already has over 200 followers.  I have no idea whether that’s good or not.

The training was so interesting that I thought about reactivating my personal account, which I let lapse after three days of absolutely nothing to say—stop laughing.

I don’t know if I need to be on Twitter right now—I do follow several people, just not through an account.  Blogs are honestly more my speed.

If my phone could do anything but make phone calls, I might consider trying again . . . but on second thought,  see unfortunately-phrased time-suck comment above.

Plus, there’s a certain observer-mindset that comes with twitter . . .  I’d like to think that if someone fainted in front of me, I wouldn’t be too busy tweeting about it to help them.

oooOOOooo

Someone left a gold glitter pen at our public desk a few days ago—we had a crowd of junior high school students on Saturday.  No one called to ask about it so it’s mine.

It has an incredibly smooth flow, which is my excuse for using it for everything from initialing order forms to taking meeting minutes.  I’m planning to go to the office supply store and see if there are any available without the glitter, but if not, well  . . . do they sell navy blue or black glitter pens?

This isn’t a mid-life crisis, by the way—I don’t have one of those scheduled for another forty years.  You might want to stick around—it’s gonna be a doozy.  And mostly likely will not involve glitter pens . . . though I’m not entirely ruling out their use.

oooOOOooo

If you hover over my avatar in the left-hand corner up there, supposing I haven’t changed my blog theme, you’ll see the name of the song I’m currently whistling or humming under my breath. 

See?  Who needs Twitter? 

___

*Except for the Tweedle Beetle Battle, which in our household is traditionally done in Rock Horror-style chorus.

**After seven years, I’m tired of Amelia Bedelia—but these books  seriously drive my mother up a tree. “She’s just so dumb,” she wails, when presented with one of Miss Bedelia’s adventures by one of her insistent grandchildren.  “Any normal human being would stop and think.”   I believe that my mother’s secret reason for supporting early childhood literacy is so kids will quickly learn to read this series all by themselves.  Silently.

Random Thursday . . . Already?

Wasn’t it Thursday just a couple of days ago?  For such a long month crammed full of Mondays, the Thursdays have been really close together.

********

I get to write a fight for Fun Project tonight! 

Unlike guns—which I always get wrong in some obvious detail that means the shooter would get knocked on her rear or need three Marines to help him fire my choice of caliber*—  my fights are often good enough to suit My Friend the Martial Artist Boxer, who is kind enough to point out where my characters might be defying the laws of physics and probability.

Writing fights—physical, verbal, etc.—is theraputic.  The thing to remember (anyone know who said this first?  I’ve lost the quote) is that it hurts to get hit and it hurts to be hit.  You might be able to ignore the pain during the fight, but you’ll have to pay up eventually. 

Even if you’re Batman. 

And isn’t it interesting—and perfectly reasonable—that Batman pays in broken ribs and Superman pays in emotional angst? 

Discuss.

******

I just spent twenty minutes reading a few chapters of Beezus and Ramona to my seven-year old . . . and twenty more telling her stories about how horrible my sister and I were as children.

She’s planning on asking my mother for more stories, which are probably going to include one or two I forgot on purpose.

Thanksgiving is going to be interesting.

******

Thank you to all veterans and present military and civilian support staff for your service.  

And thank you also to all those who have worked and are working to keep this country worth fighting for.

******

I’m halfway through re-reading  A Girl and Her Fed, which I’m doing ten minutes each morning as an incentive to get my morning writing done.

It’s brilliant and funny and weird and political.  The dialogue rocks—while I like the redone art, it’s the story that kept me reading the first time.  And the details are cool— the Latin on the Global Services Administration logo says, “If we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

 I want to be in Benjamin Franklin’s Undead Pixie Army! 

Only, you know, not today.  I got stuff to do.

 Like finish that fight scene.

Ciao.

_____

*That last one’s a true story—caliber and diameter aren’t interchangeable (it was a typo).  I don’t know what it is with me and guns.  I don’t dislike them, although I will believe in the strictest control measures until human beings stop using guns in place of brains, earned respect, or the hard way.  I just screw ‘em up.   

 

Random Thursday Accomplishments

I finally found the source of that Holy Schmokes, What Died smell that’s been intensifying in my car since early yesterday.

 Note to self: If you give in and buy a Milk Chug for Janie at your Friday Mommy-daughter breakfasts, do not let her take it out of Dunkin’ Donuts unless you make sure a) she puts it in her lunch bag (not her backpack, for the love of all that is pure and holy) for later enjoyment or disposal; or b) she gives it to you for disposal once she reaches work.

It doesn’t matter if she hasn’t finished it—wasting food may or may not be a sin, but wasting it inside one’s car is quick way to olfactory hell.*

*****

I found a book to review for the Friday’s Forgotten Books feature on Patti Abbott’s blog later this month!

I was going to do Ariel by Steven R. Boyett, as I’ve loved that book ever since I spent all my lunch money for it when I was thirteen—but apparently it was reissued last year, and everyone has discovered it. I’m thrilled this story is being read—and I can replace my adored-to-bits copy, but it meant scrambling for another book!

*****

Figured out a sticky plot point while walking back from lunch and had my notebook and a working pen with me so I could get it down.

Convergence like that doesn’t happen every day!

*****

After resisting for years, I finally signed up for Twitter and made my first tweet (@sjwesson) about 4:20 pm. Don’t bother checking it out if you don’t want to—it’s about the Milk Chug.

___

*Further note to self: It  wouldn’t hurt to clean the backseat floor of your car once in a while, either.