Back in August, April tagged me with this award. I didn’t see it at first; I was in Cozumel. She tipped me off to it last week, so I went to check it out.
In her nomination, April said some things that made me blush and dig my toe in the carpet and grin like a loon. She also speculated that I wear WWND undies. That is so not true. And it isn’t because nobody has made any, either. *mumbles* That would be sacrilegious and disrespectful. I mean, what if I got my period? We would then have to design a special pantyliner worthy of the WWND undie line. So yeah, let’s not even go there.
I’m not exactly sure what this award entails, although I’m flattered as hell to receive it from someone as awesome as April. Heck, she nominated Dear Author, Bam, Smart Bitches, me, and Karen Scott, so from where I stand, this means April thinks I’m one of the coolest, smartest, funniest, and best informed people on the Internet. I would suspect her of secretly wanting to host Tupperware parties, which I would then feel obligated to attend, if I lived in a 50 mile radius. But I don’t, so I most conclude, she likes me, she really likes me!
Then I started thinking, huh, do I rock? Do I really? Today I got a comment from a guy on MySpace who said I’d honored him by adding him as a friend. My initial response was, ok, he’s having me on — sarcasm is his native tongue. Then he followed it up with a personal message that made me think the fellow was sincere. Flattering, right? Reviewers have been asking for ARCs of Grimspace and SciFi chick put me on a list today with David Eddings and Alan Dean Foster. One of her commenters said, “Apparently I need to go look more into Grimspace, seems to have a following already.” At this point it’s more of a conga line, but I’ll take what I can get. So maybe I do rock. A little?
Let’s examine the facts. This morning, I got up and rambled downstairs in my awesomely ugly flowered nightgown. My hair stood on end as I packed lunches for my kids. I chafed them into eating breakfast and feeding the animals. I chased them around to make sure their backpacks contained school supplies instead of Pokemon cards and Bratz whatchamabobbies. I smelled their breath to make sure they had, in fact, actually brushed their teeth.
After everyone left, I argued with the water meter man in Spanish. By then I had my hair up in some ornamental chopsticks I bought for five pesos at the Asian Cultural Center. Then I shooed two street peddlers away from my gate, still wearing the awesomely ugly nightgown (you’d think that would’ve scared them away on its own, but no). After the minor contretemps, I ate some cinnamon cereal while I answered emails.
Then I got down to work, which lasted until 12:45 when my son called from school. “Mom, can you bring my trunks at 2:30? I have team swimming today.” I could and did; I also picked up his sister.
While the girl sat in the kitchen eating her snack, she had the bright idea to let Daisy in. Our dog is a crazy bitch. She ran straight for the cat box, which is hidden under the stairs. Our male cat, Don (aka Don Quixote de la Mancha) happened to be using said box when Kamikaze Dog bombed him. Daisy quite literally scared the shit out of him. He ran, only half done with his business, and left me clues as to what had happened. I will not describe the resultant mess, except to say it took me a while to clean it up, and the cat now has a twitch.
The cats (Dulce / left, Don / right) have to eat their dinner up on the bookshelf because the dog will pig down their food if we let her, and then come down with a raging case of the runs. However, the dog is terrified of the squeaky steak we bought her as a toy. If you squeeze it, she runs like hell. It’s about the only thing that deters her.
For dinner, I decided to make chicken marsala and then realized the only things I had that I needed for the recipe were chicken, butter and fresh mushrooms. My daughter watched in awe as I poured Boone’s Tropical Fruit Wine into the pan, along with Perrier, a chicken bouillon cube, some miscellaneous spices (such as rosemary), white vinegar, sun dried tomatoes, and I forget what else. I also didn’t have the cream to add at the end, so I melted some butter and whipped that in some milk, then used the concoction to finish the sauce. And the almost-chicken-marsala was motherfuckin’ delicious, if I do say so myself. And that’s probably allegorical — I wing it, flying by the seat of my pants, and to an outsider, it probably looks like a hot mess, but it comes out fine in the end.
Welcome to my life.
For my nods, I have no idea who’s been tagged, but here goes.
Sci-Fi Chick — She shares my geeky interest in many things, such as SF books and superhero films, she lives where I used to, and she put me on that list.
Victoria Dahl — Met her at Nationals; she’s funny and charming. Plus she just sold a new book. That’s pretty rockin’. Go show her some love, why don’t ya?
Jeri Smith-Ready — I first saw her commenting on Smart Bitches, and I read one of her books. Requiem for the Devil is brilliant and heart-breaking. Much later, I asked her for a blurb, then we met at National, and now we’re, like, friends, and everything. I adore her sense of humor and I love the fact that she answers my emails, like I’m not a total pain in the ass. Go check out her guest blog at Bam’s place and win prizes today.
Carrie Lofty — She’s one of my best friends, (who I also met on Smart Bitches, damn, I met just about all my friends on SB!) and she’s also the only person who can crack me up just by yelling, “TURK!” At National we totally MST3K’d some romance novels we got, and we made each other cry laughing. It was a four day slumber party and I loved it. So if you wanted to meet me and didn’t, blame Carrie, ‘cos we had so much fun hanging out that we just didn’t go out much in the evening, once seminars were done. Next year, we’ll throw a party in our room.
L — I just got to know her, but I’d like to know her better, because her dry, droll sense of humor slays me. You know, not literally. Cos I’m still typing. I love her way with words, and I like reading her blog even when I don’t comment, because of the charming way she writes about mundane things. It doesn’t hurt that she said so much nice stuff about Boundless and that she thinks Dev is magically delicious.
Now you tell me… do I rock?