Baby edition: Out fishin'

Well, I've not been around much, that's for sure. Mostly it's been the holidays - this is the first time we've (me and hubs) had off in a year, all of it together, and we've really been enjoying just being in our house with ourselves (and the hubs' new mac laptop, but that's a story for another day.)

Well, Loki, it's official. You are ::::

A GIRL !!!!

And everybody knows it. Christmas dinner has never been so lively with the hubs' parents. Everyone found time to find your mum and give her a hug in private, telling her how happy they were that you were a girl (I pity the boy brought in this family! Ha!) and how much they were looking forward to it. We've got some dates down...pram and baby bed purchase will be in February, some stuff I can get now...so I'm on it.

I've got your swaddling blankets and burp cloths under control, as well as your coming home outfit. Oma (who wants to be called Grandma - which will be discussed shortly) has found you lots of very nice second-hand stuff. Some of it is boy stuff, but you'd hardly know it, and hey, you're not gonna be some fairy princess anyways, right little tomboy? At least you won't be saddled with some of the crap I remember (or worse yet, am PICTURED) wearing. Holy cow.

Can we say butterfly collars, anyone? (Whoever DOESN'T miss the 70's, raise your hand HIGH!)

Sad thing is that they really don't do baby showers, here, which a good buddy of mine told me. So we'll just have to muddle through.

And while we're on the subject.

Your Grandma R is not old enough to be called an Oma. And besides, your Great-Grandma I is already called Oma, which just messes with my head. There can be only one Oma! And your grandma R is just too young.

So I'd like to call her something else.

I am big on Spanish. Abuela? I also like the Greek form - YAYA! That would be so nifty. I don't want her to have a name that is not cool. My mum wants to be Nana, so that is out. (She had grandkids before poor Grandma R did).

I really like Yaya. Really alot. So I guess what I need to do is start whispering it in your ear when you come out so you'll say that instead of Grandma. Heaven help me. Manipulation before speaking!

Other than that, not much. You are growing, using up lots of growth hormone, and it is very odd to have you move in there as you get bigger. You sort of ... squish ... across my organs and that feels distinctly odd. Plus you're totally gonna be some hairy mammoth if this BS about the heartburn=baby hair ratio is true.

Only thing I'd like noted at this time is that needles stink. And I use them now. All. The. Time.

Stink stink stink.

Very merry holiday time to you and yours!

Happy Holidays !!

Closest I've come yet...

... to finding a dog that resembles my POV amigo, Sam, in my new book.

Here he is, innit he handsome?

(CH J’Cobe Kemosabe Vigilante Justice)

Sam has a different head marking but looks remarkably like this. Smart, blocky little face. I love terriers.

I love terriers with a love of old 30's tough-guy movies even more.

LOLCAT FREIDAYZ

Gosh, this could be me.

BABY EDITION: Ruminating

So, questions I'm thinking about this morning, little Loki, as you tumble and twist in there, like some whacked-out gym enthusiast:

1. Stretch marks, Loki. STRETCH MARKS. I just found my first this morning, and as hubs said, "Loki is still growing! It won't be the last!" (Thanks honey) WHY OH WHY?
   
   
2. DUDE. All those talks about how pregnant women get seats in the train and bus? TOTAL LIES. Why do people in this town avert their eyes from my belly and sink down in their seats? This is not cool.
   
   
3. Heartburn. Constipation. Again, this is a WHYYYY? (Because if it's true that heartburn means you'll have some hair, Loki, you're gonna be It from the Addams family!)
   
   
4. How will your grandparents react when they find out if you're a boy or girl? What is the best way to let them find out? A little present? A pic? Jury's still out. Any ideas out there?
   
   
5. Why is there so much MISinformation out there? Even between countries advice? This is also not cool. The internet is particularly bad at this!

*this* time

Well, I always get ahead of myself, you know? Get a great idea, get all excited and then BOOM I MUST FINISH THIS BOOK INSIDE A MONTH.

And really I don't want to do this with Panic if I can help it. Why?

First off, I'm not in a bloody race. Nobody is breathing down my neck for this (except myself) and I'm under no obligation to turn it in at any time.

Secondly, I really like this book. And this kid. And this dog. And for that, I should really just take my time and have fun with it. Because man, once the fun stops the work begins (revisions!!) so why not enjoy?

Thirdly, it's holidays.

(But I think I might enjoy writing every day and just see where I'm at by the end of the year. Tee hee)

Do you get ahead of yourself too?

Back in the saddle again!

If I could put little music notes around that title, I'd do it.

So I started back in on Panic on Friday. By the end of the weekend, I was up to Chapter 6, knew the basics of Chapter 7 and 8, and had had a great, fun time writing this crazy dog in this book. He cracks me up - a perfect representation of the best in hard-boiled detectives, it's fun juxtaposing that against his status (which shall remain SEKRIT) and his boy Ren's (slightly) wimpy outlook on life. It's cute to see them coming together, and I haven't had a book come this easily since Possum Summer.

Which I'm *hoping* is a good thing.

Now, I've written some books. My agent is subbing one, she's got the next, two shall remain in my closet (along with the half-*ssed tries from earlier in my writing career), one STILL needs to be edited (*sigh* Forester's son, I just can't quit you) and now Panic.

And you know what? I think besides for Possum Summer (which I'm SICK of seeing, so I guess it's finally all edited up, ha ha) this is my absolute favourite book I've written yet. I a-d-o-r-e this dog. He's the perfect mix of all my old dogs (in a way, it's a homage to all the dogs that I've known, including the show dogs) and I adore this relationship between the boy and his dog. Or perhaps, it's the dog and his boy.

AND this book has a surfer dude, which I've always wanted to include.

All in all, this MS is made of win. I hope it continues to live up and surpass my expectations. And you? How's yours coming along?

International Agent Appreciation Day

Hey guys!

Today is International Agent Appreciation Day! Brain child of my online buddy Kodi, IAAD is designed to offset some of the real negativity that agents get on a day-to-day basis. Agents in general have a very difficult job, and all this negativity just can't be...beneficial. I mean, think about it. They don't get paid unless their writers do! They have to be the bad guy in most all situations, as their writers want (well, most of them do!) their full, unvarnished opinion on most every aspect of their writing process.

So, what makes MY AGENT Marlene Stringer so fantabulously perfect?

**insert fangirl squee here**

So, so many things. She tells me the full truth, she gets back to me in split seconds, she is always funny, warm and her normal awesome self. She doesn't treat other writers that have her as an agent differently than me (and believe me, writers with the same agent do talk!), she answers her queries punctually, she treats writers trying to break in with warmth and sincerity, she tweets pubtips that, if you're following her and have no agent, will help you get one. Guaranteed.

If she's behind, she'll tell you. She has a real life, and she still manages to do everything for everybody. I don't know how she does it.

But a few special things. She does NOT give up. We've been subbing my first novel for a while. And she is still every bit as supportive of my book, my talent, and my career as she was when she first took me on. She doesn't drop her writers. And she sells. Good golly gee, does she sell! In her first year of being on her own, she's done an amazing amount of sells! Debuts, second books, series...the woman is a selling machine.

She sent me powdered donuts and a pregnancy book that actually helped me with the fear of labour. I mean...MAN. *LOVE FEST*

(But as they say, you don't have to take just MY word for it. Check out my other surprises for my lovely agent!

Medeia Sharif

Alex Bledsoe

Erica Hayes
Gabi Stevens

Shari Maurer

Happy Agent Appreciation day, Marlene! I hope you know how much I treasure you!

BABY EDITION: Accepting your limits

Because obviously, I can't do this.

BB (before baby) I could do it all, in like, one afternoon. Clean. Cook. Wash the boyz. Laundry. Iron. straighten everything up. Juggle with one hand tied behind my back while singing a show tune and Riverdance dancing.

Well, not that last bit. But anyway.

And now?

Now I could weep in frustration. All the stuff I used to be able to do so calmly, so effortlessly, so easily, g-o-n-e. Now (for instance) I have to sit down on the GROUND just to plug the Christmas lights together into one group for the ground plug, and then realize I can't get around my belly to get back up. Which necessitates a 10 minute talk to myself about not crying about this because it is natural, for crying out loud, scootching forward to an empty space in the room (on my butt!) and then getting slowly from butt, to hands and knees, to feet, to bracing against the sofa, to up. While the cats watch me, quizzical at my grunts and heaves. I sound like a porn show, for crying out loud.

Everything has changed. Everything.

It's the same with anything. Even walking. I have to peg on additional minutes, because I can't power walk like I did before. My body won't allow it. My job peeps are absolute DOLLS, since I can work from home half the day. And that even is a freaking stretch right now. I can't stay out because I get too freaking tired. I mean, WTF.

And you know what?

All of this makes me so upset and frustrated. I'm no longer my own person. My husband has to help me with stuff. Friends have to help me with stuff. And if you don't know me "in real life", I am not good at accepting this sort of thing. I feel powerless, and every day that goes by (although I'm SO GLAD Loki is okay and developing like Loki is!!) just gets me bigger and bulkier and less inclined to be able to do stuff for myself.

This is, in fact, the worst aspect of it.

The best aspects? Thinking about hubs and the expression he'll have on his face when he sees Loki for the first time. Seeing his face when he feels Loki kick. Telling the parents at Christmas this year if they'll have a girl or boy grandchild. Blue cat waking up because Loki kicked so hard Lokie nudged him when he was laying by me on the bed. Feeling Loki in new spots as the little sprog grows. Knowing that above all else, a healthy happy baby will make us the family I dream of completing.

My hubs deserves the world. And Loki will give him it.

So all the crying jags, the anger management courses, the psychiatric appointments, everything...just prepares me. I know it.

But I still hate feeling helpless.

Making a Gingerbread House, JKB style

Well, this weekend we set ourselves a goal: making a gingerbread house. We're trying to get our little Yule traditions up and running before Loki gets here.

Have we ever made a gingerbread house before?

No.

Did we let that stop us?

No.

And thus I mixed up an obscene amount of gingerbread dough, and it looked like this:

My hubs and I did this together, listening to the Homicidal Christmas Channel on the live streaming radio. It was very funny, hearing R2D2 telling the Night before Christmas, and the Hanukkah song.

And since he's a maths freak, we did the cutting-out and measuring of everything with MATH. Not eyeballing it, as I was ready to do. As I was perfectly happy and willing to do. Instead, on a Saturday morning at 11, I had to use my BRAIN.

And it hurt, preshus.

Below, see my stringent pencil and paper notes as well as the maths. Holy cow. I didn't even have an eraser! *cries*

Here is what hubs did: the rolling out, the cutting, the placing of the gingerbread on the tray...

His rolling skills. And his hands. Aren't they cute?

Look at his rolling out and cutting of gingerbread house skills.

*happy sigh*

And all I did to this point was place the gingerbread pieces in the oven.

While we were waiting, I mixed up the icing, and the stuff all together. Used my new food colouring, too.

I won't show you the hot glueing part. (Because this is where hubs burned his hand enough to blister it, the poor thing! So I sent him to the bathroom while I finished glueing it together.)

And voila! Here is our little gingerbread house, all put together.

But then we started to decorate it. And THIS is where I managed to be of some use!

*hee*

My kitchen SO looked like a tornado hit it. This is just the tiniest bit of how horrible it was. The BlackCat had a fun time going through and taste testing, though. The little turd.

And.......

The finished product!!

I used snickers for the path, and I think this might possibly be the coolest aspect of this house E-V-A-R.

Regarde!!

Another view:

See? We're *so* gonna be ready for next year!

If you are interested in the recipe for the gingerbread, let me know. I'll be happy to share!

I am here!

I promise!

Just working on a couple big posts, and they are sucking up all my time.

XO,
me

Sherman Alexie Day

Today is not LOLCAT day.

Today is SHERMAN ALEXIE day.

I love this guy. I always have. He walks the line, slips over each side many times, and is just generally a guy I'd love to have over so my hubs could drink beer with him and we could rag on stuff.

He's just so cool. And he puts his money where his mouth is. Very interesting viewpoint Mr. Alexie has on e-books, oh yes...

The Colbert Report	Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c
Sherman Alexie
www.colbertnation.com
Colbert Report Full Episodes Political Humor U.S. Speedskating

BABY: Spinning cotton candy dreams

Little kid!

You are growing so much, I can tell even without the ultrasounds. It slowly becomes more difficult to get up off the couch (!!) and to lay on my back becomes. VERY. uncomfortable. And you kick like a linebacker.

But I don't want to complain!

I've been watching your video rather alot, and thinking about what you'll look like. To my utter dismay, it appears you have my pug (pig) nose. But it looks like you have your papa's jaw, and if we're lucky you'll have his white-blond curly hair. (If you can't tell, I'm thinking a lot lately about what you'll look like, as you practice your ninja kicks at 5 am in my bellee).

And my job. You're lucky your mum likes her job so much. I don't talk about my job here as a general rule, but just to tell you all (while I have a fangirl moment): I really, really love my job. I like the people, I like what I do, I like the money... :-) ... and they've been so good about you and letting me work from home ... they just rock.

And I must be getting some sort of nesting feeling, because the last days I've been lusting after this, which has admittedly been my dream for a long while before but it's really solidifying now. My own little Swedish farm.

With goats. I had it in Oklahoma, and your papa had it with his grandparents holiday house, but I'm worried that you won't: Some place in your life where everything is golden, and green, and turquoise blue, with animals and water and plants and magic at every turn.

I want you to have some place like that, when you think back on your childhood. (Which means I better get to selling some books, because papa informs me this is the only way to achieve this particular dream).

You're doing good, I'm doing good. Let's continue at this level.

Well,

*I* thought it was funny! He was rather proud of himself...