First some business and then some whining…..

I posted another article on Examiner.com.  Go on and read it.  I dare you.

Second, the whining (this is my favorite part).

I texted the Sisters last night and told them I was due for a little sisterly butt-kicking.  I sent the text much too late for either of them to respond last night.  For God’s sake (the God who invented clocks and early bed times) I sent the text at 8:58.  Isabella had probably been in bed since 6:30 (I’m not kidding – she’s building a human so I’ll cut her some slack), and Ava probably turned in around 8ish simply because she’s a wimp.  But, both of my sisters called this morning to find out what my problem was and to issue the appropriate amount of a$$ whooping.

My problem is that I’ve not written a real word on It’s Clearly Love’s revision for probably three weeks.  THREE WEEKS!! That’s appalling.  I go and stare at the computer and then I open the Internet and all is lost.  My Honey assumed that all that time spent in the office was due to some outrageous word output, but no.  He just wrinkled his eyebrows and looked at me when I confessed.

I told My Honey and the sisters to make me be accountable for some serious work tonight.  All three are supposed to make me tell them what I accomplished in the morning, and they’ll all know if I’m lying.

But the Olympics are ooooooooooon.  Deep sigh.

Finished with book 8.  That’s 2,520 pages.  It was alright but it frustrated me a bit.  The story ended with a real eye roller which I guess isn’t the best, most glowing endorsement.

On to book 9 – it needs to be read in 10.67 days.  I think I can handle that.

We went to the grocery store today.  This was hanging on the front of the meat section.  Clearly written by an employee – I suspect even by a butcher to advertise for the holiday.

It was every thing I could do to just take a picture and not get out my red pen.

The picture above is of me this morning.  I’m just so weary of all the young men bringing me presents every day.  I had to have my maid turn them away.

My Honey, the dear man that he is, brought me the traditional Godiva chocolate for Valentine’s Day.  And this made me wonder about the history of  Valentine gifts – especially candy.

During the 1800’s, doctors commonly suggested that their lovelorn patients eat lots of chocolate to soothe their nerves and calm their emotions.

As an elixir for love, chocolate has been believed throughout history to bring smiles to the broken-hearted and to prompt amorous feelings in both    men and women. It is believed that Madame Du Barry served it to all her suitors; Casanova consumed chocolate instead of champagne to induce

Casanova

romance; and Montezuma, the king of the ancient Aztecs, believed chocolate would make him virile.

I saw it suggested that some people in other parts of the world celebrate Valentine’s day with gifts of fruit.

I’m here to tell you right now, that’s not going to work out for me.

I just posted the 2nd part of the Sherrill Quinn interview.  Pop over and take a look.

Tucson Romance Novel Examiner

We went out to grab some dinner tonight.  You people should be very happy we do that.  I get more blog post ideas out of dinner out than almost anything else. 

We went to our favorite Mexican restaurant tonight for some comfort food.  I worked a very loooooooong day, and My Honey was brain dead from studying, and the children were ornery so no matter where we went, they would complain. 

The waitress brought the children lemonades and, because she’s served us many, many times before, she brought the cups with lids.  Of course, the lids didn’t help when The Bandit dropped his entire 24oz cup on the floor about 30 seconds after she brought it.

She very sweetly mopped up the contents and wrangled all the loose ice cubes.  She’s a pretty unflappable waitress, and we always tip her well.  At least she was unflappable until The Bandit toppled out of his chair.

I’m telling you people, it continues to be the funniest damn thing I’ve ever seen.  One second he’s there and the next all you see are flailing arms and legs and two eyes round with surprise.  The entire dining room watched and gasped in unison.  The waitresses hands flew to her face as she watched in horror.  Of course, I was laughing hysterically.  I’m such a wonderful mother.

The Bandit crawled back into his chair with a sheepish grin, “It’s very wet down there,” he said gesturing to the floor.

When we left the restaurant, the kids both asked where we were going that was fun.  That’s how they word it, “What are we going to do that’s fun?”

Not skipping a beat, My Honey answered, “Where going to find a gypsy camp to see if we can trade you two in on tambourines.”

I’d rather see if they’d trade for a gong.  I’d really like a gong.  Or at the very least, a tambourine and a triangle.  I can’t imagine what we’d do with two tambourines.  Unless we decide to become a tribute band for The Byrds.

I have been accepted as the new Tucson Romance Novel Examinerfor Examiner.com. You’re likely aware of my passion on this subject, and now I have a forum to share that passion with the hundreds of thousands of people who are perusing Examiner.com’s content on a daily basis.

I would like to invite you to subscribe to my articles so you can stay in the loop; simply click here to subscribe to my articles.

Oh my goodness, I’m officially a professional.

Another gem from the daily calendar:

Georgia O’Keeffe had resolved to become an artist, and a famous and successful one at that.  She knew the road ahead would be hard, given the 1910 general opinion of women artists.  Undeterred, O’Keeffe enrolled at the Art Institute of Chicago (where she ran in embarrassment from her first class with a nude male model) and then the Arts Students League in New York City.  Despite winning prizes and scholarships, she endured the contempt of her male colleagues, one of whom said to her, “It doesn’t matter what you do [in art school].  I’m going to become a great painter and you’re just going to end up teaching art in some girl’s school.”  That student was Eugene Speicher.  Ever heard of him?  Didn’t think so.

So of course, I had to do a little research. 

This is Eugene Speicher.  Apparently Wikipedia has heard of him.

 He looks like an arrogant ass, doesn’t he?  I don’t know why I feel the need to champion Ms. O’Keeffe, unless it’s my modern woman’s sense of outrage at his derisively misogynistic statement. 

I’ve always liked O’Keeffe’s work – even the blush inducingly salacious ones such as this example.

O'Keeffe - Red Canna

Speicher’s work is VASTLY different from O’Keeffe but I tried to find some flowers that we could compare.  Click on the pictures to enlarge them.

 Speicher’s is lovely, but certainly less legend-in-the-making worthy.

My Honey has been helping Sassy with her science project for school.  She’s making an Automatic Dog Petter.  It’s really cute.  There is an axle with a crank that spins a giant wheel that has 4 padded gloves.  Ideally the gloves will pet a dog that is calmly sitting there waiting to be petted.  We don’t know if it will work.  Our dog is completely uncooperative.

The Bandit has been assisting by hammering random items, spilling the glue and putting double stick tape on the dog. 

Serves the dog right if you ask me.

From the daily calendar:

A flop as a lawyer, Franz Kafka tried his hand at insurance.  He took a job as claims manager at the Workers’ Accident Insurance Institute of Bohemia, but the hours were brutal and the conditions stultifying.  He spent most of his time drawing severed, mangled, and truncated fingers to document defective apparatus and malfunctioning machines.  As he wrote to his friend and fellow writer Max Brod: You have no idea how busy I am.  People tumble off scaffolds and into machines as if they all were drunk, all planks tip over, all embankments collapse, all ladders slip, whatever gets put up comes down, whatever gets put down trips somebody up.  And all the young girls in china factories who constantly hurl themselves down whole flights of stairs with mountains of crockery give me a headache.”

Kafka’s work has been very influential in modern literature.  You remember reading some of his more famous short stories in high school – specifically The Metamorphosis.  Apparently, he also had a witty sense of humor.