I called to speak with Isabella last week.  I wanted to clue her in to a new version of Emma that PBS is airing on Masterpiece Theater.  She wasn’t home so I had the honor of conversing with her daughter.

“Are you excited about the new baby?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“YES!” she said.

“I hear that you’re expecting a little girl.”

“Yes, I’m going to have a sister,” she told me.  I could hear the smile through the phone.

“Well you know, there is just as much of a chance that it’ll be a brother,” I told her.  I personally am campaigning for Y chromosomes.  Every mommy should have the joy of getting mushrooms out of her son’s nose.

“No, I’m having a sister.”  She sounds pretty adamant in her sing song voice.

I laughingly argue back, “But you understand that it could be a boy.  You might have a brother.”

“But I’m not.”

“Alright, sweetie.  But you know, boys aren’t so bad.”  She knows my children well, so she is familiar with some of the issues with brothers and she certainly knows plenty of little boys.  “I’m awfully fond of The Bandit and he’s a boy.”

“Yeah,” she agrees and I think I might be getting through to her.  “But I’m having a sister because I only have girl toys.”

I love Isabella’s daughter to death, but I hate to break it to her that most little girls aren’t really as excited about snakes and bugs and lizards as she is.  She might be better off with a brother.

GO Y CHROMOSOMES!

I finished book 3 today.  I did not like this one.  Not at all.  It was amateurish and, worst yet, I sincerely did not like the heroine.  BLAH!

On to book 4.  I am thrilled to be so far ahead of schedule.  I have to read a book every 8 days now instead of every 5.8 days.  That might actually leave me a little bit of time to get some of my own writing done.

2nd book down.  It’s 1:22 in the morning and I just finished it.  It was really good – good enough to keep up up to this ridiculous hour on a work night.  9 more to go.

Good Lord, I hope I can get up in the morning.

Ava drinks more coffee than anyone I know.  Isabella is off caffeine but I know she looks longingly at coffee and misses it.  I do not drink coffee.  ICK!  The smell is lovely and I love the idea of coffee.  I really love the idea of coffee culture: having a 15 word description necessary to order what I want, sitting around coffee houses and cafes, that sort of thing.  I just can’t bring myself to drink it.

On that note, this from the daily calendar:

What was fueling Honore de Balzac’s prolific literary output?  Why, the same thing that helps millions of Americans brace for those interminable nine-o’clock meetings: good old-fashioned high-octane java.  The strung-out Frenchman drank up to fifty cups of thick, black, Turkish coffee per day.  When he couldn’t get his fix in brewed form, he simply pulverized a handful of beans and popped them into his gullet.  “Coffee is a great power in my life,” Balzac admitted.  “I have observed its effects on an epic scale.” And he suffered them, too.  The high quantities of industrial-strength joe gave him stomach cramps, contributed to his high blood pressure, and left him with an enlarged heart.  Caffeine poisoning – not to mention his gluttonous lifestyle – contributed to his early demise at age fifty-one.

Well, good grief.  Imagine if there had been a Starbucks in 1820’s Paris.  You’ll have to admit, he looks a bit strung out in this picture.

It would be a Grande, 2 pump Vanilla, Non-Fat, Extra Hot, Latte with a tipple shot of espresso.

And some extra coffee beans if you have them handy.

My Honey had school tonight.  I think he picked evening classes on Tuesday and Thursday because those are bath nights for the kiddies.  He claims not, but I know how heinous bath night is so if I had the opportunity to ditch out on them I would. 

This was the tale he told me of his drive home. 

He was driving down one of the main streets of town, right past the University.  Up ahead, he could see twinkling light that signaled cop cars ahead. 

“Oh crap,” he thought, “an accident.”  So he slowed with the rest of the traffic as they neared the accident, careful to watch for pedestrians milling about in the street.  There were two University Police cars blocking the middle lanes, their red and blue bulbs rotating and lighting the scene with carnival colors.  His truck must have been stopped right next to the policemen because he could see that they appeared to be in some distress and, then with dawning horror, he realized that there was a towel or blanket covering a lifeless form in the street.  He couldn’t move forward because the traffic had come to a complete stop.

He couldn’t take his eyes away from the nightmare that lay under that sheet.  His stomach roiled with the dreadful knowledge that someone’s life had changed; a whole family’s lives would change.  Then slowly, agonizingly, someone lifted the blanket and My Honey just couldn’t look away.  It was such a small figure under the drape and he dreaded what that could mean.

The drape lifted higher, inexorably revealing the dire results of the horrible, senseless tragedy……

to reveal…..

a dead cat.

I read one book today.  Ten to go.  I hope I can keep up the pace.  This first one I read was written entirely in the first person.  Very unusual and unexpected.  The author switched heads frequently from the hero and the heroine but it was clear when she made the change because of new headings on the page.  I haven’t read anything in the first person for quite some time with the exception of the Sookie Stackhouse series by Charlaine Harris.

I did enjoy this book.  The dialogue was witty and believable.  I especially enjoyed the book cover – which is absurd – but it looked just like this site: a lovely brown and light blue. 

On to the next one.  352 pages.  Ready…..Set….Go.

I don’t know what I was thinking.  Or maybe I did, but I didn’t realize the magnitude of my actions.  I volunteered to read some entries for a contest looking for Excellence in Romance Fiction.  I did this many months ago and I’m sure the draw was that I would get all these free books to read.  As it turns out, I received my readers package at my writer’s group meeting on Saturday.  I have 11 books to read by March 24th.  11!  Eleven.  Onzi.  Undici.  Once.  That’s 11 in French, Italian and Spanish respectively just so you get the magnitude of how many we’re talking about.  I did the math and that has me reading 1 book every 5.8 days which isn’t so bad since I’m sure I do that anyway.  I’ll often read 3 books a week.  Nevertheless, the pile looks very intimidating.  I’ll keep you posted on my progress.  So far, I’m only on page 68 of the first one.  I don’t see a lot of writing getting done while I do this marathon reading assignment.

In honor of Ava’s desire to try Noble Silence (HA! That means texting, too, dear sister) I’m going to let loose a few of my random little rants.  This is because I know that I couldn’t never succeed at the practice of Noble Silence.  The concept simply doesn’t gel with any part of my personality.  Remember the episode of Friends when Chandler wasn’t allowed to say anything sarcastic?  I seriously would implode.

So here we go –

We went and got dinner tonight and I foolishly told the hostess we needed a table for four.  In reality, we could just as comfortably have been seated at a table with only three chairs.  My daughter, Sassy, is a clinger.  She physically hangs on me  all the time.  I keep trying to introduce her to the laws of physics and the concept that two units of mass can not occupy the same space, but she’s uninterested in higher learning.  Don’t give me any of that B.S. that she’s only six years old and can’t understand.  If she could insert herself back into the womb, I bet she’d do it.

I have a major pet peeve.  It’s Christmas lights.  Why, in God’s name (the God that created electricity and LED bulbs) can’t people take down their damn lights.  It’s the last week in January, people.  As we drive down the street at night, seeing these lights makes me yell out the car window.  By April, I will be seeking an injunction, and around August I’ll get out my sniper rifle.  I simply can’t abide the laziness that having your Christmas lights up and functioning two weeks after the holiday implies.  My Honey would like to warn those of you that are committing this infraction that I have two back up sisters and wire cutters and I’m not afraid to use them.

This last item isn’t a rant, but it might take the sting out of the harsh words from the last paragraph.  I was cleaning off my desk and found this quote:

“One of the great things about books is sometimes there are some fantastic pictures.                  -President George W. Bush

Remember, his wife was a librarian.