The garland is still on the table on the porch– not around the door.
100 pages are completely ready to be sent into my editor. 300 to go.
I ate 2 cupcakes today because I deserved them (or so I say). That’s one cupcake for every 50 pages. At this rate, I will have 8 cupcakes by the time I finish this book. I will need to put a disclaimer on the book cover that says, “8 cupcakes were consumed in finishing this book.” Only problem is that there is not one more cupcake in this house. Guess I’ll have to stop at 2.
I am like a teenage boy when it comes to NFL and fantasy football. I get nervous, I sulk, I whine, I lament. It’s absurd. I don’t get this way about anything in my life– especially anything I have control over– and, yet, I exhibit all of these behaviors on football Sunday.
Happy Candelas has found all sorts of new hiding places for his milk, water, my make-up, etc. When you can’t think of where else it might possibly be, look in the tub or the hamper.
Why does Happy only express interest in what is in his diaper when I REALLY don’t want him having any part of it? And how come he’s so fast and dodgy?
Lola can be very creepy when she feels like it. These days, with her mama on book deadline, she feels like it a lot. She stands behind me, stares are my back, and breathes heavily on me. I feel like she knows something I don’t know. And it is freaking me out, man!
