Scarlet Letters

In a couple of days I'll flap my wings and fly to ye olde Dragoncon, where I will be staying off-site for the first time and desperately hoping it is not a colossal error. I will be rooming with the marvelous Jay Smith of HG World fame, and with luck he will not turn out to be a serial killer. I will have fewer costume changes than usual, due to the aforementioned off-site lodgings, so don't be expecting the ballgowns this year. Besides, I'm not sure Jay knows how to lace a corset. I'll be hanging out with my charming editor Sean Taylor, with the usual assortment of Atlantean miscreants, and probably will not meet Keith DeCandido for the seventeenth time. Do try to find me at my autograph session or reading. For starters, I'll have books to sell. But even if you're not buying and I've signed everything you own up to and including your right arm, come see me! Free chocolate! And if you know me online, please introduce yourself! For that matter, if you...

As seen on Twitter, in the original order. The reasons I hate my bloody printer, with which I have been locked in mortal combat for going on two years now, I think. No. 1: It cannot find my wireless network, and NEVER HAS. This has persisted despite two different residences, a new modem and new router. I should rephrase: it can see the network, but it cannot complete a connection with it. Ever. No matter what my good friends on the Kodak helpline try. No. 2: New ink cartridges allow color printing for about four sheets, then it all turns to hell. I installed new cartridges tonight so we could print the Boy's images for his new project. By the time we got to the third sheet, the Cardinal logo was yellow. It has completely lost the ability to calibrate its colors despite a recalibration this afternoon. No. 3: It has the exact same problems as the original printer, which took months of hell before they replaced it. Some of you lived and suffered through my increasingly-hysteri...

This just in: Hunger Games Trilogy Outsells Harry Potter ! ABC, Washington Post, Forbes, Wall Street Journal, New York Daily News... everyone's excited for Katniss Everdeen. Here's the catch: It's misleading as hell. And it's being repeated all over the 'net. Sure, the Hunger Games trilogy has outsold the Harry Potter books... on Amazon. Supposedly. Contrary to popular belief, there are millions of books sold every year from booksellers other than Amazon. Yes, they exist. Online and off. Want proof? As of June 2011, the most recent figures I could find, Harry Potter books had sold about 450 million copies . The numbers Scholastic released this month for The Hunger Games trilogy declare about 50 million copies , print and digital. In other words, about one-ninth what Harry Potter has sold. That's nothing to sneeze at, and it's worth pointing out that Hunger Games is only three books published in four years with one movie, while the boy wizard ha...

Me: You've got this whole Javier Bardem look going on today, it's nice. Him: Who? Me: Javier Bardem. He's an actor. *finds picture on cell* This guy. Him: I look nothing like him. Me: You do too. *finds Jeffrey Dean Morgan* Actually you look even more like him. Him: Okay, you've shown me that one before. Me: Yeah. I'd cast him to play you in the inevitable TV-movie about us. Him: ... no. Me: What, don't you think we'd make a fun TV-movie? Maybe Lifetime? Him: No. Me: HBO? Skinimax! Bamp chicka bamp bamp. Him: *facepalm* Me: Sci-Fi channel? Him: Now you're talking. I spared him the follow-up question of who he'd cast to play me. Some things are just too cruel to do to a man.

I was reading something wedding-related - of course, it's my new hobby - and came across an interesting quote. Of course now I cannot find it, but it was the editor of Bride magazine and he said in an interview that at no other time in her life is a woman as valuable to marketers than she is when she is planning her wedding. Believe it or not, this column is not (entirely) going to be about weddings. It has stuck with me for days, despite my inability to find the exact quote, because it doesn't make sense to me. Oh sure, I've noticed it. From the moment I wrote my name on some sheet identifying myself as "bride," I have been deluged with offers. They're in the mailbox and inbox, they are soooo friendly and happy to see me. The come-ons are constant. Photographers, videographers, florists, planners, hotels, restaurants, venues, caterers, dress shops, tea rooms, photo booth rentals, bakers, travel agents (yes, they still exist)... everyone wants the money w...

If there’s something about planning a wedding that has surprised me, it’s all the rules . I knew there was a “wedding industry” that pretty much thrived on satin and tulle. For the vast majority of us, there’s only one time you get to throw an all-out formal bash with caterers and flower arrangements. Unless you’re a professional party planner or work for one of those hoity-toity companies that does this kind of thing for the holiday party, a wedding is pretty much your only shot for black tie and rose petals. The thing is, I didn’t really plan my first wedding. I was all of twenty-two, desperately trying to finish my last semester of college and find a job before I graduated so my new husband and I would not starve. Times being what they were, I succeeded, but it was not without a herculean effort. I could not finish college, find a job, plan a cross-country move and do a wedding all in eight months. So I handed it over to my mom. I figured they were paying for it, so ...

ME: I've got coupons for Denny's, Logan's, Caffe Avanti and the Olive Garden. Oh, and Cold Stone Creamery. Yum. HIM: No. ME: Sorry? HIM: We can't go to Olive Garden. ME: You don't like Olive Garden? HIM: I like it fine. But every time I've taken a woman to Olive Garden we end up breaking up. ME: *laugh* You're cursed with Olive Garden? HIM: We are not going to Olive Garden. ME: Hon, I'm marrying you. See, ring and everything. HIM: I'm not taking the chance. ME: So wait, I'm condemned to a life without Olive Garden if I marry you? I can never darken the door of Olive Garden again? This was not disclosed when you proposed. HIM: You can go to Olive Garden all you want. I can go to Olive Garden all I want. We just can't go together. ME: What about a large group that all wants to go to Olive Garden? HIM: ... We can do that. ME: What about with the kids, as if we could afford that? HIM: That's okay. But not by ourselves, like a ...

Today I got into a fight on the internet. Despite my fiance's amused grins, I swear I don't look for these things, because I don't enjoy them. I like debate, but I don't like name-calling and meanness. So generally I try to ignore stupidity on the interwebs, because it's one of the few truly unlimited resources in this world. Today an acquaintance of mine posted the "bootstrap" quote from Martin Luther King Jr.: "It is a cruel jest to say to a bootless man that he must lift himself up by his own bootstraps." There was more to it, but that's the important part. Of course, a troll appeared, and to paraphrase, he indicated that these days the poor are "wearing $500 sneakers and need to pull their pants up." Well, that's the kind of stupidity that I will ordinarily pass by. Arguing with bigots online is like trying to empty the Atlantic with a shot glass. But someone else picked up the gauntlet and the joust began, which I r...

Q: Wait, what? You ran off to Florida and got married? A: Hell no. I have too many relatives with pointy weapons for that. No, we got engaged. Jimmy knelt down in front of Cinderella Castle, said something schmoopy and had the ring on my finger before I had the chance to say yes. He said he was hedging his bets. Q: You didn't get married? What's with the hats? Veil, top hat… ears. A: The hats were a present from my dad and stepmom. Not to be confused with the real thing. Cute, aren't they? Q: So that's not a wedding band? A: No, it's a promise ring. We're going to buy a wedding set next year after we save up some money. Jimmy may be crazy enough to marry me, but he's not crazy enough to buy a wedding set before finding out what I was gonna say. Q: You did say yes, right? A: Please note the changed relationship status on Facebook. I said yes. If I'd said no, my stepmother would have shoved me into the moat. Jimmy did say he considered superg...

Witness the story of Shannon Cooper, who was arrested at her daughter's high school graduation for cheering. Apparently the school had requested no one cheer until the end in order to expedite things, but Ms. Cooper yelled, "Yay, my baby made it!" when her daughter crossed the stage. Ms. Cooper was then escorted from the auditorium by police. Um, and then she was handcuffed and placed under arrest, driven to the police station and charged with disorderly conduct. There she was detained for several hours until she was allowed to post a $225 bond and go home, where the graduation celebrations had to be postponed. I have many thoughts on this. Sure, we've all been at events where obnoxious parents annoyed us. I once had to change seats at my son's orchestra concert two times because of parents who would not control their rambunctious toddler (who could not possibly be enjoying the concert anyway; try a babysitter) and a trio of snotty teenagers making fun of th...

I'm waiting on a prescription for a non-prescription medication. Does that make any sense to you? Because it boggles me. Last year my doctor recommended an over-the-counter medication for acid stomach. It's not outlandishly expensive, but at $22 for a six-week supply, I planned ahead. I included my budget for this medication in my flexible spending account enrollment. Lo and behold, after enrollment for insurance programs ended at my employer and it was too late to change my elections, the government ruled that FSAs could no longer be used to buy this particular medication. Thanks, guys. That extra $190 a year really must help you out. I discovered this when I tried to buy the medication and was told my FSA card could not be used. I was flummoxed, and contacted my FSA administrator. They confirmed what the pharmacy had told me, but said there was a regulation that would allow me to buy the medication with my FSA money if my doctor wrote a prescription for it. "Bu...

PHONE: *ring* J: Hello? ME: You might be the most frustrating man I've ever known, and that's saying something. J: What'd I do?? ME: Remember last week when a giant pile of laundry went through the wash and it got stuffed into baskets instead of being hung up so all the shirts and pants have to be re-dried? J: That was the kid. ME: And then we re-dried all the shirts and pants. So imagine my joy to venture into the basement and find all the laundry stuffed back into baskets. J: That darn kid! ME: THE KID IS IN MEMPHIS. J: ... oh. ME: There are these newfangled devices called hangers, and they magically lift your clothes off the floor into closets and then your clothes aren't wrinkled anymore and I don't have to dry a shirt three times to wear it. Is there something about having a penis that makes you and the spawn oblivious to wrinkled clothes? J: I wouldn't say that , exactly... ME: Hangers! J: I love you. He did do the dishes, though. Ain't...

Today marks the first full day of the delinquent's summer. To my utter shock, he did not qualify for the school district's summer school - I can only assume because of budget cuts, not because of his brilliant schoolwork. Therefore, I have designed Mom's Summer School. First comes the workbook: I found Summer Bridge to be the most useful and least onerous. That didn't save me from the theatrical eyerolls - nobody else's mom makes them do schoolwork in the summer, yanno. Too bad, so sad. The workbook is excellent; three or four lessons a day, including math, reading, English, science, etc. Each day he does a few lessons. Fortunately for me there is an answer key, since I had no way of knowing if his answers were correct. I could never homeschool; my math SUCKS. Then comes the other stuff. A daily journal entry. Book reports due each week, alternating with essays - he can write an essay about any subject that interests him, as long as it's a full page. We will...

My folks are heading out of town for their anniversary. Me: So what's so exciting about Indiana? Dad: French Lick. Me: ... See how I'm not saying anything? Dad: I know, it's the perfect straight line. Me: Saying nothing at all, just sitting here. Stepmom: *mumbles in background* Me: What did she say? Dad: She said French Lick for our romantic anniversary getaway. Stepmom: *evil giggles* Me: Great, I need therapy now. Tell her I'm sending her the bill. Dad: *laughs*

The woods have fallen silent with the death of Jean Craighead George. George wrote more than 100 books, but the one that comes to my mind is My Side of the Mountain. It tells the story of a boy who runs away from "a life of quiet desperation," as the linked obituary calls it, and lives on the land. He hollows out a tree for his home, trains a falcon to help him hunt, and seeks to live as Thoreau did. George excelled at this kind of character, one that has a deep respect and affinity with nature. Sometime in elementary school, I won an essay contest with a short treatise about conservation. I cannot for the life of me remember what I wrote, but I know I won a beautiful sketchbook that they called a coloring book, and a copy of My Side of the Mountain.  It was an important book for me. I read it several times. It planted the seeds for my fondness for backpacking. There is a certain self-sufficiency and freedom that comes with walking into the woods with everything you ne...

A few weeks ago, before the fit hit the shan with the car, we found a giant L-shaped wooden desk on Craigslist and bought it for the Tower.* It's a freaking behemoth of a desk - seriously, even in parts, we had to take two doors off their hinges just to get it up the high, narrow stairs into the Tower. Did I mention it was made of solid wood? The owners helpfully took it apart for us and gave us the six or seven large pieces, umpteen drawers... and a bag full of hardware. No instructions. Therefore we have been procrastinating for weeks. I helpfully delegated the task to Jimmy and the Spawn when I had to work a Sunday shift this weekend. I ain't no dummy. ME: Thanks for the work you did on the desk. I imagine it took a while for you two to put it together. JIMMY: Heh. Heh heh heh. Yeah. ME:It's shiiiiiny. And now that you know how it goes together, you'll know how to take it apart when it comes time to move again! JIMMY: ... No. ME: What, we're never movin...

At least, we're pretty sure we can blame it on our ghost. Sure, it was kind of cute when she was hiding my shoes. Almost funny the way an earring missing since before we moved magically appeared on the kitchen floor in time for me to step on it. Jimmy's busted tire was no big deal. Less cute was the massive sewer backup which required our poor landlords to excavate and replace the sewer line. But now my Toyota has a bad transmission. The initial quote is $1600. Yes, we're hunting around for a better deal and alternatives that might lower the price, but regardless, we have some serious cash to raise. We're liquidating our vacation savings, my 401(k) and selling off whatever furniture and electronics we can. We're holding a tag sale in a few weeks. Jimmy is talking about getting a second job, which I hope won't be necessary. What can I do? I have exactly one marketable skill. So I'm offering a free short story as-yet unseen by the public to a...

I am sitting on the couch in my half-unpacked living room, finally finished with work for the day. The cool March sunlight falls through the windows and makes warm patterns on the wood floor beside me. Schubert plays in the air and a light breeze wafts from the kitchen, where a window is open to dispel the smell of this morning's bacon. The boys are outside, as they should be. Jimmy has the day off work, and the boy has been off all week for Spring Break. They went out earlier to buy supplies and get their Easter haircuts - they both look so handsome. They brought me back Reese's peanut butter cups and a Diet Coke, because they love me. Now they've gone to the park about a block away with fishing poles, where they will attempt to catch the poor hapless fish that survive in that pond and they will speak as men do. Or something. Tonight we had planned to go to the Science Center for the Star Trek exhibit, since "Tribbles" author David Gerrold will be there. Mone...

Hello fiends! As anyone who reads my Facebook knows, I moved recently. In fact, I've bored you all to tears with the details of my move, which allowed me and my partner to combine households in a lovely house with enough space for us and our kids. Best of all, at least as far as I was concerned: the attic was big enough for me to have my own office and library, for the first time since my son was born. That means when I work from home several times a week, I have a place to work besides the kitchen table. It means a dedicated space for writing my brilliant novels. It means room enough for all my books, half of which live in boxes or are double-stacked on groaning Wal-mart shelves. And it means space for a streamlined mail-order operation for the Literary Underworld, which has had to operate out of the corner of my dining nook until now. We'll be faster, more efficient and able to expand our operation with its own space. A catch: no furniture. No desk, no b...

Dear USPS: This is the most complicated move of my life, and it's not half done, and you are not making it easier. Look, I get that you want us to do our change of address online now. Sure, those little forms were a pain. I had no problem doing it online. Then you tell me that because everyone in my home has a different last name, we have to submit three different requests. One for me, one for my partner, and one for my son. All right, now that's just silly. It's that hard to design a form that allows for members of one family to have different names? This is 2012. I challenge you to find three out of five homes where someone isn't using a different name. Fine, I'm used to this kind of nonsense. I'll go through this three times. But now you want my credit card. And you're going to charge it a dollar. For "fraud prevention." I've got an idea where the fraud is. Because it's gonna cost me three bucks: one for each of us. What is thi...