NEW RELEASES
All hope is lost
Sometimes while you’re parenting, you wonder how it’s possible this child the hospital claimed was yours could actually be from your loins, your genes. This child is broken, you think.
You watch your child do mind numbingly stupid things. You wonder how could I possibly have made that child? It’s not going to live to see adulthood.
Some times I look at the girl child, and I think how pretty Sassy is. That only proves how I shouldn’t be certain the child is mine. It’s not possible I made any human that beautiful. And funny. She’s really getting excellent comic timing.
But still, there are so many times I’m befuddled. I’ll admit there are times I hope she’s not really mine.
Then I see a glimmer. A certain glare when she’s unhappy. An outstandingly poignant sarcastic remark.
Then there are times I know with absolute certainty she is mine. One hundred percent of my genes. I made her and have no one to blame but myself. And My Honey – I try blaming him a lot.
Today she and I went to pick up a pizza for dinner. The lady at the counter called my name, and I hopped up from the bench to grab our take-out package. Out of the corner of my eye I see a dramatic arm flail and then the whoosh of air as Sassy went down. I turned my head, arms laden with pizza and dessert, to find her sprawled out on the ground with nothing in evidence to trip over except air and her own two feet. After only a heartbeat my child leapt from the floor.
“I’m fine!” she declared unconvincingly. “Don’t look at me.”
I tried really hard not to laugh, but I didn’t succeed. I’ve been in that precise position so many times and she used my exact line.
The clerk expressed alarm. “Are you OK?”
“Oh yeah,” Sassy said with a dismissive wave. “I’m totally fine.”
Then she proceeded to limp out the door behind me.
Yep, totally, totally mine.
August 2
Let the wild rumpus start! And so begins the Mardi Gras celebration that is Amylynn’s birthday. We surely hope you’ve prepared yourself. This is an expensive proposition, but it’s well worth it. Amylynn is a fabulous, fun person with few requirements in friends other than loyalty, wit, intelligence and the willingness to play along with her nonsense. She tries to make it easy on you. For example, she’s been telling everyone for years the way to ease the burden of her birthday prerequisites is to save a measly dollar a day from August 6 until August 4 the following year. Such a small amount certainly won’t crimp your style and would make $364.00 available for you to spend on her birthday present. She’s really a very reasonable person as you can see. To
This one is a bit crumbly. How much could it possibly cost?
make your job even easier she’s put together this handy dandy list of things she’d like for her birthday. And GO!
1. A castle. Amylynn has decided her lovely husband should get her a castle. It seems economies are tough all over and if the rate of defaults and foreclosures are any indication, there should be castles up for a steal. She’s really hoping for a haunted one. Something along the lines of a wailing lady in gray or maybe a headless knight roaming the halls. Scotland would be ideal, but in reality she’d go anywhere her new pile of rocks is located –
This one looks sturdy
Spain, Italy, basically anywhere in the Great Britian area. Even Switzerland if they promise to stock the place with firewood.
2. A real tiara. At the ripe old age of 44 Amylynn has decided that she’s not wearing anymore Target tiaras. She’s weary of the plastic that stabs her in the head and the rather dull aspect of the paste “jewels”, and she’s decided that Ava will pick out a nice one what with her having gone to jeweler school and all. If there’s anyone who’ll be able to carry off the wearing of a real honest to goodness tiara, it’s Amylynn. She’s already checked into the insurance required for such an item because she has enough self-awareness to know that it’s bound to bounce around on the pavment several times a week considering how often she falls down.
Zooooooom
3. A Jaguar F-Type. Amylynn remembers the time she taught Kurt to drive. It was a stick-shift so that was a very nice thing to do, don’t you think? She never yelled at him. What did she care? She was 16 and had no real understanding of how expensive a new transmission cost. Still he was too afraid to drive the car across busy streets so it did take a while to get anywhere with all the changing of drivers and such. Amylynn thinks that Kurt has surely saved up enough money in the 28 years they’ve known and loved each other that he can pick up a lovely Jaguar for
Ahhhhhh!
her birthday. She’d prefer a deep silver or a dark blue. Red is really so predictable.
4. A baby. There was an elephant born in the Fort Worth Zoo and Amylynn wants it and she thinks her mother and Aunt Debby should be willing to hop in a U-Haul and pick her up. The folks in charge over there named her Baby Belle and we think that’s just adorable. It should be relatively easy to get an elephant out of the zoo. You’re probably thinking the opposite, but you obviously haven’t put as much thought into this as we have. Pandas have a ton of security, it’s true, but no one thinks anyone would be crazy enough to steal anything as big as an 
elephant. That’s the genius of the plan. We are that crazy and we’re certain the rest of Amylynn’s family can pull it off as well.
5. Cake. Amylynn doesn’t care who exactly gets the cake so long as there is a lot of it and it shows up often. White cake. Red Velvet Cake. Yellow Betty Crocker cake with chocolate frosting. She’s not especially fond of German Chocolate but if it shows up, she’ll eat it.
A tale of two Amy’s
Sometimes, through absolutley no fault or plan of my own, I am led by others to misbehave. That was the case when Amylynn and I went to the romance writer’s convention. We had a very trying time checking in, and things just went downhill from there. When the very next problem occurred, I called the front desk for help.
Hotel Associate: “How may I help you Ms. Bright?”
To Amy, holding my hand over the receiver: “They just called me Ms. Bright!” Evil smile.
Every time we called the front desk, they answered with “How may I help you, Ms. Bright?” as if no one else could be in the room but the one person who made the reservation. I want you do know that I am an Academy Award winning “Amylynn Bright”.
Hotel Associate: “How may I help you, Ms. Bright?”
Me being Amy: “There is a hole in my sheet. I thought housekeeping would change the sheet today but they did not. How can you make up a bed and not notice a hole in the sheet? I spent all last night trying to avoid it, but I kept putting my toe in it anyway because I couldn’t stop myself . . . because I knew it was there. I can’t spend another night like that. (I said all of that rather dramatically as if it was the end of the world.) ***Amylynn here*** I had to draw the line when she experimented with voices. I mean really.
Amy: Oh for goodness sake, just tell them to come change the sheet for me. I should have called myself. You’re making me sound like an idiot.
Me: Evil smile.
We had so many problems during our one week stay; I’m not sure how many times we called the front desk for help. I have never enjoyed calling to complain so much in my whole life because it wasn’t me. It was Amy! By the end of our stay, we were certain that the front desk people thought Amy was the most complaining guest they’d ever had.
We could just hear them: “By God, that woman complains enough for two people!
Me: Evil smile.
Fatawesome is so on it. It’s like they’re spying at my house
The first one was such a huge hit the last time, BECAUSE IT’S TOTALLY TRUE, I thought I’d share another one. These guys are hysterical.
I’m just going to sign over my paycheck to Target
I took the kids to Target today to get their back-to-school supplies. The lists from their respective classes unrolled like scrolls from the lost library of Alexandria.
16 notebooks – 16? That seems excessive. What in God’s name are these 5th graders going to be writing? War and freaking Peace? Is this paper airplane making class? What the hell? 
2o boxes of pencils for the 5th grade alone and another 6 dozen for the 3rd grade – I wondered if perhaps they are going to be erecting log cabins in honor of Lincoln’s birthday this year. Or is a bonfire planned?
13 boxes of facial tissue – ???? Are we expecting massive bloody noses? Epic allergies? Outrageous art projects? What in the name of Kleenix do they need 13 boxes for?
Even with my ranting and raving and flat out refusal to buy 16 notebooks, I still filled up a shopping cart and spent 80 zillion dollars.
I’ve never seen such a fascination with office supplies.
Then there’s school uniforms.
BAH! Kids are very expensive.
Winner Winner Chicken Dinner
My Honey and I have been in a battle of wills with the publishers of the Picayune. We didn’t pay the last subscription renewal because we were waiting for them to call up and offer a cheaper rate. According to My Honey that’s what he usually does. Like playing poker with the billing department, he just waits – they’ll come up with a better offer. He assured me it goes like this.
The first letter comes: Dear Sir. We see that you haven’t renewed. Please send in your $36.00.
Next comes: Dear Sir, We see that you haven’t renewed. We miss you. Please send in $24.00.
Followed by: Dear Sir. Our lives are meaningless without you. Please send in $12.00.
So we waited. Nothing happened. The first round of play never occurred. I was certain we’d lost. I figured the Picayune didn’t need us anymore. I was forced to go to the local convenience store on Sundays with the rest of the rabble to buy my copy of the Sunday paper. It was so inconvenient to have to get dressed and everything. Besides, I’m certain my neighbors missed the sight of me in my jammies on Sunday morning, tromping out into the yard with my bare feet, hissing at the sun like a vampire.
I suggested we contact the paper and cave in. Pay them whatever they want, I begged. I really missed the comics. Besides, I so enjoyed reading the paper at work with the rest of the girls. I would regale them with Dear Abby in different voices. My Honey wouldn’t let me contact the paper. Wait, he intoned. Be patient, he said while my fingers hesitated over the send button on my phone.
I fidgeted. I squirmed. I gnashed my teeth with anxiety.
Then I collected the mail on Saturday and I danced a jig at the mailbox. The newspaper publisher offered me their metaphorical throat, jugular exposed, and I went in for the kill.
$2.24 a week GUARANTEED until 2017.
I paid for six months in advance. If the Picayune goes out of business the guilt can be placed at my feet. I will accept blame.
Wall Street Journal – are you paying attention?
Ooops.
Oh dear. It seems I fell asleep. Yikes.
I’ll make it up to you.
July 26
As we write this it’s pouring outside. We tried to convince Bank of No Forks to let us close because of the river flowing through our parking lot, but unless there is a hurricane or an epic tornado, we have to stay here until 6pm. Does that seem fair to you? Us neither. Sounds like regional discrimination to us. We’re calling the AFL-CIO, the President, the Dalai Lama, Human Resources and anyone else who’ll take our call. So far we haven’t had a lot of luck and the guys in the black Chevy Caprice are back in the parking lot. Why do our ideas always end with government guys in Foster Grants following us around Target? Here’s some funny stuff.
Charlie should rethink this hat
1. Charlie Sheen did not win. Much to our dismay, Charlie Sheen did not locate the Loch Ness Monster. To say that we are disappointed is a massive understatement. We thought if any one would find Nessie, it would be Charlie. He drinks tiger blood for Zeus’s sake. When the shy monster didn’t show up, he stated it was because it was afraid of him. Just imagine the look we’re giving him now. Still, we do think if the opportunity arises, we’ll make friends with Mr. Sheen. After all, how often do you get calls in the middle of the night to
Doesn’t he look vicious?
jump on a private jet and zoom over to Scotland to find a monster? Think of the fodder for this blog.
2. Adam and the cheetah. In more insane Hollywood news, Adam Sandler was attacked by a cheetah while on Vacation in Africa. Perhaps the cheetah has seen Jack and Jill. We’re just sayin’. In all reality though, when we watched the video it was like watching a future moment in the lives of the Quill Sisters. Except that if it was us, we’d be squealing, “Again! Again!” like lunatic five year olds being swung in the air by their favorite uncle. Now we’re all curious. Do cheetah’s have soft belly hair like our Jojo Kitty, or is it course and thick like the tiger we got to pet that time. We’re going to have to get a Kickstart account so we can get enough money to go to on safari.
3. NASA’s SWAT team. While we were in Atlanta minding our own business at the restaurant that served delicious blueberry pancakes we learned that we’ve been totally cheated. According to the Wall Street Journal, every single place in the entire country has their very own SWAT team except the Quill Sisters. At first we were incensed. What the hell does NASA need a SWAT team for? How about the The Fish and Wildlife Service? It turns out the Department of Education uses their SWAT team to terrorize people who haven’t paid their school loans. “Who the hell is paying for this expense?” we wondered aloud. “What do they need one for?” Then it occurred to us that it was probably a box to check on some government form – SWAT team – YES or NO. Honestly, we’d have checked yes, too. All 
those times you’re too tired to stop at the store for milk after work because the line will be too long – just send in your SWAT team. We’re going to look over our business license application for that box and resubmit if necessary.
4. Georgie Porgie. That’s what we’re calling the new Prince of Cambridge. Ava doesn’t like the name his parents chose, but Amylynn thinks it sounds very king-like. It’s as good as any if they weren’t going to use our selection of Heathcliff. Of course, most of the people we mentioned this too thought we were talking about the cartoon cat and not the brooding, obsessive hero of Wuthering Heights. Some people you just can’t help. We sent a lovely 
present to the Duke and Duchess in the form of a pony. Every prince should have a pony.
5. RWA – National – We had such a great time at the convention. It’s so very lovely to find a mass of people who don’t think we’re completely insane. Between the gluten stuffed rolls at the table and the people recognizing Amylynn and the opportunity to go fangirl on some of our favorite writers…it’s was a fabulous time. We got to go to Margaret Mitchell’s house and lick the banister that Margaret used every single time she took the stairs. We got to pretend that our cab driver was Rhett – that needed A LOT of imagination, but we’re very powerful in that department. One of these days we’ll tell you about Amylynn doppelganger at the convention and why we’re not allowed back in that Marriott.
I’ve already used this weeks allotment of words
Yeah – I got nothin’.
My head is all wrapped around the edits for project I just finished and am about to send to my agent. So how about some fun pictures and stuff from my Pinterest board?
Oh my God, I’m so tired but the internet calls
Simon’s Cat – it’s like he knows Joe personally
I just love the brilliant fellow at Simon’s Cat.
Jojo in my Brighton box