Beware The Bread-Wielding Gunman

True story…

My mother was recently getting her hair done–it was just her and the salon owner in the building–and in came a man wielding a machine gun, telling them this was a robbery and he was going to kill them!  Needless to say, my mother was extremely frightened and was just sure her life was over.

Then, she got a good look at the gun…

The guy was holding a loaf of bread–a long baguette–like a machine gun!

The shop owner yelled at the guy to get out of her shop, and he immediately left!

Can you believe that? My mother was held up by a guy with a freakin’ loaf of bread!  Luckily, it was only a loaf of bread and not a real gun.

Needless to say, this story is somehow going to end up in one of my books, LOL.




What’s In Your Bookmark List?

One of the things in my list is from for “perturbed.” Seeing as how Tora is perturbed quite a bit, I guess I wanted different ways of expressing that.

What’s in your list?

Stop Squeaking!


Apparently this little mouse toy was madly squeaking and wouldn’t stop. Thing 3 determined it must be possessed, so she stuck it in a salt ring.   As soon as she put it in the ring of salt, the squeaking stopped. Coincidence? Or do I have a demon-possessed cat toy?

Since When Can’t A Girl Play Black Ops?

Today is Thing 2’s 14th birthday.  It’s hard for me to believe she’s already 14, even though she looks like she’s 17.  She’s about 5’7″, wears a size 12 in juniors, size 12 shoes, and is what you’d call well-developed.

She had a couple friends come over, and since she got a fair amount of birthday money, she wanted to get Black Ops 2. Now mind you, she’s finished Black Ops 1 numerous times. She got hooked on the game because her older brother plays it.

We all piled into the van and went to Walmart. When she told the cashier (a guy) what game she wanted, he got a very surprised look on his face and  said, “You don’t look like someone who’d play that game.”

One of Thing 2’s friends asked, “What do people who play the game look like?”

He answered, “None of you.”

My reaction was what the hell.  If she had been a boy, this guy probably wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. But apparently a girl, according to this asshole, isn’t allowed to play a war game?

Fuck that.

My daughter descends from a military family. Her great-grandfather received a Purple Heart in WWII.  Her grandfather was in the Army, and she learned how to shoot a gun at the age of 9 by her Army father. She watched her older brother win a champion trophy in shooting at the local fair.

I’m guessing this guy also doesn’t think a girl can aspire to be a police officer, fire fighter, etc. Stereotyping asshole.

After she paid for her game and as we were walking away, she said, “He almost lost a sale.” She’s right. If we hadn’t already been to another store to look for the game, I wouldn’t have had her get the game from this guy.

As far as the rest of her birthday, it went very well. I took all the girls to an awesome frozen yogurt place, we got a couple movies (by a couple, I mean 5), and they played Black Ops, watched movies, and played more Black Ops.

They’re currently watching Hansel and Gretel and having fun.



Stuck In Query Hell

Fo the last, I dunno, months maybe, I’ve been revising my query letter.

I hate writing query letters.  Trying to explain a 117,000 word novel in 250 words is downright hell hard.  I finally got it down to about 300 words, but I’m letting it sit for a few more days before I go over it again.

Another thing–since I’ve started working less, I now have less time to write. What the hell is up with that? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that back in May, Thing 2 hurt her foot. She tripped and fell and somehow ripped the cartilage off the talus bone in her ankle. After numerous doctor visits, an x-ray and an MRI, she had surgery last week. Not to mention school’s out so my house gets trashed each day.  Thing 2 can’t do much but sit around, and Thing 3 makes a mess but doesn’t clean up after herself.  She’s not happy about having to take care of her older sis, or in her words, “being treated like a slave.” Apparently cleaning is hazardous to Thing 3’s health, because every damn time I tell her to clean, she comes up with some kind of an excuse. Either she ends up with some sort of cut, or stubs her toe, sprains her ankle, comes down with a sudden flu or whatever, which means I end up cleaning the mess when I get home. Which is why I’ve been pretty much absent from my blog.

I really do love my kids, though I tend to rant about them.

And where is Thing 1 in all of this? He’s down in Florida working at Universal Studios, having fun. Ahhh, to be young and free again.

I really need to get my query letter done so I can, one day, write full time.

I just need to get out of this query hell.



It Is December, Right?

Last week aka the end of November we had temps in the low 20s. Today, however, it’s supposed to be a high of mid-60s.


It feels like spring. Rainy, foggy, with that spring feel in the air. It makes me wonder if we’re going to have another mild winter and have summer come in February.

Thing 1 made a surprise visit home Saturday…or maybe Friday night. When I woke up Saturday morning I noticed his bedroom door was closed and thought, “How odd. Why would his door be closed?” I wondered if one of the girls had closed it, so I opened it and was shocked to see him sleeping in bed. He doesn’t have classes this week because it’s a study week and next week is finals. After that, he’s done for the semester and will be home for three weeks. He was planning to leave early this morning, but with the fog advisories out he won’t be able to leave until  mid-morning.

NaNo Day 15: I’m Not Superwoman

I have come to the sad conclusion that I’m not Superwoman (not that I ever professed to be, but still…), and unfortunately I can’t do it all. Notice how I don’t have a NaNo graph to show my progress? Because I’m not progressing, not at all. I’m still at the same word count I was a week ago because I haven’t written a thing. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

My supervisor is out of town this week and emailed me, asking if I could work this week, which means I work all day at home, get dinner ready, help the girls with homework, and then I’m out the door and working some more at the hospital.

I thought I might be able to eke out a few words each night after I get home, but that hasn’t happened. I’m so tired, I just want to crawl into bed and dream.

It’s probably a good thing I haven’t written anything, because it’d probably look like this: shewassofuckingtiredshedroppedrightwhereshewasandsleptforahundredyearzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I’d wind up with pages and pages of Zs…which reminds me of a funny story of a doc who fell asleep during a dictation and ended up with pages of Zs. (Yeah, he got in trouble for that.)

I have, however, gotten a start on book 2 and have an outline worked out up to about chapter 6, so that’s good. And if I don’t make the 50,000-word goal, that’s fine too.

In fact, I will refer you to Nicole Peeler’s site wherein she discusses making that 50,000 goal and not making it, Dr. Peeler’s Five Laws of NaNoWriMo.

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