Random Thursday: three tees, teed off, and toothsome news

Earlier this week, Lyra (of Lyrical Meanderings, in case there’s anyone here who doesn’t already follow her there) posted a great essay that had me thinking about tee shirts, once I was done thinking about how badass unicorns really were. 

 That’s not all I took from the essay, in case you were wondering, but once I had absorbed Lyra’s always thoughtful insights, commented, and followed the link to the badass unicorn tee, my instincts led me further down the retail path, as they are wont to do.

 I also realized that most of my tee shirts, which live lives of their own in the depths of my top bureau drawer like blind squat lobsters in the Mariana Trench,* predate my marriage.  This was a bit of a shock.  In high school and college, tee shirts happen—they’re the natural by-product of academia, or even walking across campus.  Hell, marching band along nets you three or four per semester, without including the ones that violate Bill Watterson’s copyrights.

 But after graduation, you apparently have to make an effort, especially if you want tees that fit, both physically and personal-statement-wise.**

 So I did, over at TopatoCo:

  

  

 

There were others, so, so many others, but with three you get free shipping, so I didn’t push it.

 oooooOOOOOooooo

 Janie would like me to post that after a year-long dry spell, she has two loose teeth.

 “Anything else?”

“Nope.  That’s it.”

oooooOOOOOooooo

Whiny Greedy Consumer Rant o’ the Week

I ordered a new netbook from Newegg this last weekend in a fit of pique because Best Buy ticked me off —or rather, their idea of customer service did. 

Huge sales on, tons of people, and all the clerks were clumped together in an aisle talking about how busy they were,  which was odd because they were completely ignoring the customers.   So, I walked up and said, “Could someone help me find the netbooks, please?”

It was like I’d flipped a switch.  Everyone glanced at me and faded away in different directions, but no one answered my question. 

So I left.  And I’m not going back.  And I mean it  this time.

Newegg offered me three-day delivery and six months of deferred payments, which is good, ‘cause I’m saving most of my ready resources for next week—parking in St. Louis is extortion and wireless service in the hotel is worse.**

But this netbook is a necessary expense because I wanted something I can carry around with me so I don’t have to worry about theft and I don’t want to schlep my laptop case everywhere and yes I could simply use paper and a pen but this is the 21st Century, darn it, and I wanted one.

So I’ve spent the past few days tracking my order and watching it circle New Jersey before heading west.  It arrived in town around 5:45 am this morning, and at 4:15pm this afternoon, the status finally said, “Delivered to a man.” 

I called my husband to make sure he was the man in question before doing the New Stuff Happy Dance. 

He was, and all is good.

oooooOOOOOooooo

And finally, my First Reader and dear friend is marrying her best friend and the love of her life this weekend. 

She shared one of the songs that they’ll be playing—knowing Lisa, the rest of the music will be just as incredible:

Please drop in at her place and wish her a Happy Wedding Week! 

 

____

*Or like creased sardines, except I don’t think sardines, ironed or otherwise, live in the Mariana Trench.  Any ichthyologists in the house?

**I’m no longer a medium nor someone who picks up the beat and flutes it all about.  I’m not heartbroken about either.

**If any Bouchercon attendees happen to land on this post,  I will gladly split or even divide the daily wireless charge, if possible.  E-mail me.

First Reader’s Blog and a Rad Bromance

I think I mention First Reader once or twice a week around here. for those of you who are new, I call her First Reader because she’s even better than a beta–she’s a plot-hole finder, life saver,  nag (in the best way), and a very good friend.

She’s also a supplier of Great Things to Read. She writes amazing paranormal YA and truly marvelous steampunk.  Her werewolf novel is being shopped around as we speak—in my opinion, it’s only a matter of time.

And now she has a blog: Semi-Educational Reviews.  It’s only about a week old, but it already features an interview with Tessa Dawn, author of Blood Destiny, and a restaurant review that’s making me crave woodfire-grilled pizza. 

Have a look!

oooOOOooo

And now for a Rad Bromance:

I shamelessly swiped the vid from Smart Bitches, Trashy Books*  because, frankly, I am amazed.  I swiped the “Rad Bromance” thing from a YouTube comment because it’s absolutely perfect and risked my keyboard this morning.

Interesting fact:  Patrick Goble reminds me of my brother-in-law, in looks, humor, and creativity .  My BIL is a natural  entertainer (though no guitarist) who once worked out an arrangement of “How Much is that Doggie in the Window” for forklift-horn octet.  An Applause tattoo would not surprise anyone in the family.

Have a delightful weekend!

___

*Who received it from Pam G.

 

Random Thursday: Sheep, Salad, and Silent Hallelujahs

The coordinator of the church Christmas Pageant e-mailed the cast list this morning.  Janie is a shepherd, which is a pretty good gig for someone who was the donkey last year* . . .  except Sunny is the sheep.

This was done on purpose—last year’s coordinator wanted Sunny to walk down the aisle with Zoe, another curly blonde child, in matching angel costumes.  Sunny declined, at the top of her voice, to be haloed, robed, or go anywhere near Zoe, who is a sweet kid but tends to ignore the personal space of smaller children until they fall over.

So it was hoped that being close to her sister this year would make Sunny more comfortable.  It seems to have worked—Sunny is very excited about being Janie’s sheep.  As her mother, though, I can’t help but think that my curly-headed little lamb is probably going to keep her shepherd on her toes . . .

oooooOOOOOooooo

I’ve been humming the Hallelujah Chorus all day.  I could say it’s because I finally finished that stinkin’ chapter of my WIP and sent it off to First Reader last night—and this afternoon, she sent it back with a lot of lovely comments** that had me breathing a sigh of relief.

But really, it’s because my friend the Earworm King suggested that this might be a good way for librarians to bring a little holiday music into the workplace:

Since the library has always been my haven against the relentless, repetitive cheer that is Winter Holiday Music™, I’m gonna pass, thanks.   But if we ever have a talent show, I’m there with the signs!

oooooOOOOOooooo

I just tucked Sunny into bed.  There’s nothing like a snuggle-hug from a warm, recently-bathed and shampooed kid in fleece footie jammies.

I said, “You smell really good.”

She said, “Like salad?”

I blinked. ” Salad?  you think salad smells good?”   I’ve never thought about salad smelling like anything much, except maybe green.  She didn’t smell green—her soap-paint is violently strawberry and purple grape, and her shampoo is orange cremesicle.

She nodded.  “I like salad.”

This is patently untrue.  She likes the idea of salad, since it’s a grown up food and she is determined to be a Big Girl.  But carrots and cucumbers are as far as she’s been willing to go, and even then you have to match her bite for bite in a crunch contest.  “You like salad?  Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

So I gave up and sang a song, for which she forgave me,  kissed her, kissed her bear, cocooned her in her quilt and afghan and left.  Then I turned around and came back.  “What kind of salad?”

Who knew a half-asleep three-year old could make the same tsk sound as her older sister?  “Fruit salad, Mommy.”

I’m not bright.  But I mean well.

oooooOOOOOooooo

I have an hour and ten minutes left to make the writing goal part of my pre-resolutions today.

I think the extra chapter of Clementine with Janie and the extra snuggle with the fruit salad was well worth the time—but now it’s a wastin’.

Ciao, y’all.

_____

*And who stole the show with her single line, which she projected at exactly the wrong time to great comedic effect:

Zoe, around her favorite thumb: “Feaw not! For I bing you glad tide-lings of gweat joy!”

Janie: “HEE-HAW!!!!!”

**And, yes, a few that made my slap my forehead and wonder why I cling to the notion that English is my native tongue.   And why I still try to have my characters handle guns when it has been made very clear to me that I have some kind of natural anti-talent in this area . . .  But she always phrases things in a way that never makes me wonder why I’m still writing.  That, my friends, is why she’s First Reader and I’m damned lucky.