I worked so hard on that post yesterday that I'm just gonna coast today. Slice up some silliness from my life and serve up with a side of, "Gosh, I really am a dork, but I'm here to amuse y'all."

Do your eyes ever play tricks on you? I glanced at my inbox and saw I had four new messages. My brain translated the senders as:

Loowis the Loose Bowel (*snickers* It was three Loose Id promo emails.)

and

Wolverine (Don't I wish! For all of 15 seconds, I was like, Woohoo! Was actually Weaveraine, which is how Raine Weaver's name appears in Gmail for some reason. It was cool to hear from her, but she ain't Hugh Jackman.)

This is my office, where I do all my work. The fookin' cats fight over my chair. I get up to go to the bathroom right next door, come back, and they're sprawled on it like, "What? You left, dude. We got dibs now." I then relocate them to the yellow armchair. You can see part of the chair (and one lazy cat) in the first shot.

From this very office, I often send my husband IMs in the middle of the day. I offer a sample of onesuch where we're talking about Good Touch for your enjoyment:

me: What do you think about books 5 and 6?

Andres: What about books 5 and 6?

me: I'm not sure she has archenemies. I mean, just people who have a grudge against her. Normal type grudges. They'd like to see her dead, but in a direct way.

Andres: Yes, no Lex Luthor for her.

me: Not in a behind the scenes I AM MANDARK way.
(Five minutes later) Sorry, google went loopy on me.

Andres: 's okay.

me: what do you think about a confrontation with a father she hasn't seen since she was seven for book six?

Andres: That could work.

me: that's the final loose end anyway. the only thing i can think of. so... anyway, laura told me that synopses are more selling points than promises. so this is all just my best guess, and they won't care if the story comes out different, as long as it's still GOOD and in the same vein as I sold to them.

Andres: Right.

me: i mean, i can't suddenly decide to make her a sumo wrestler

Andres: No sudden changes with her being the chosen one from outer space. Heh heh.

me: Or that. :D

Andres: As long as she does not suddenly become an expert martial artist that can shoot two guns while doing a backflip, you're good.

me: Yep. She'll never go there. I thought it was pretty funny to have Corine pitch grenades because she used to play softball, and she can't be trusted with a gun. Btw, Laura sent out my contracts. YAY!

Andres: Very nice, honey.

me: I know!! Now I can fax it to SFWA to make my membership official.

Andres: Yep yep.

me: *dances* When I'm famous, you can be my armcandy. I'll buy you some tight pants.
With a salsa ruffled flare on the bottom.

Andres: Heh.

me: Hehe. *grins* And you must wear your white shirt. The very fancy one.

Andres: You just like the frills.

me: Duh. My trophy husband must personify the stereotype of the hot Latin lover. *smirk*

Andres: *snorts*

me: But you would look pretty sexy in a pair of stretchy black tight pants with flared bottoms. *grins*

Andres: Yes, yes I would.

me: You're so cute.

There you have it. If you see us at cons, I'll be the one with the tight-pants wearing flamenco dancer on my arm. Have a great weekend, y'all.