Scarlet Letters

Boy is famous for making me pause shows all the time  so he can get a snack, run to the bathroom, split the atom, whatever. The joys of ADHD. Watching anything with the both of them is an exercise in patience. BUFFY: *begins* BOY: Pause. I need more food. ME: And we are thirty seconds past the previouslys. BOY: We took too long starting the episode. ME: Whatever. BOY: *goes for food* ME: Bring me a milk. BOY: No, because you didn't say please. ME: Pretty please, with sugar on top, child of my loins, bring me milk. BOY: Okay, I'll take that, but just this once. ME: Smartass. ME: *grabs single-serve bag of Doritos* ME: *nibbles* ME: *chokes* Aaah! I got the spicy nacho ones. BOY: *snickers* ME: Shut up! You have the regular. Trade? BOY: *snickers more, passes me the bag* You know, they're not that spicy. ME: Shush. I acknowledge my wussiness. ... ME: *bites Doritos* Blech. BOY: What? ME: They're stale. BOY: Yeah, they go stale sometimes. ME: They...

Today's blog post is brought to you by Georgia L. Jones, an amazing writer with Seventh Star Press, courtesy of Tomorrow Comes Media! Georgia is doing her blog tour this week sharing snippets from her terrific new releases, Legends of Darkness  and Witches . Guest Post from Kyan (Character in Legends of Darkness by Georgia L. Jones)   I allowed my mind to wonder back to a time that was so much like today.   My hatred for the humans around me was founded deep in my soul.   They deserve no more compassion than you would show a snake, slithering through the grass.   They all should die. It was June 10, 1692, a day that will haunt me for as long as my soul exists.   That was the day that they hanged me for being a witch.   If they only knew, I thought.   Now I am much stronger than any witch I have ever known, and I have known a few.   I owned a couple of bars, and didn’t want to act and dress according to their standards. I dra...

Living in a haunted house means there's never a dull moment. Okay, in all seriousness, we don't really believe Isabel is real. Mostly. Probably. We know there was a woman named Isabel who lived in this house and was murdered here by her husband in 1911. Isabel suffered domestic violence of the physical and emotional varieties, and had made a friend of an independently wealthy, single woman who encouraged her to leave her husband, unlike the other oh-so-helpful ladies of the era who simply believed taking a smack to the face was part of a wife's duty. As often happens even today, a woman trying to leave an abuser is most in danger on the day she leaves. He killed her, confessed, tried an insanity plea and it didn't work even back then. He was sentenced to 45 years, but his sentence was commuted after fewer than 10 years. He remarried and lived happily ever after. No wonder she's pissed. It was neat for two horror writers to move into a potentially haunted hou...

Upon seeing a really cool Superman figurine... BOY: Gawd, $90! I've got bigger action figures than that. ME: It's not an action figure, it's a figurine. It's for decoration. BOY: Whatever. I'm not paying $90 for an action figure I can't play with. ---- Other updates: Jim had surgery. A lump had developed in the center of his back the size of a baseball, and the doctor's in-office attempt to remove it was only partially successful. He got it down the size of a golf ball, but he needed an OR to get the rest. So Jim's surgery was about 11 days ago, and he was hurting pretty badly. He also had to be off work for nearly two weeks, so yay paperwork. But he is doing much better, stitches were removed Tuesday and I get to finally pack away the first-aid kit. And I have made many jokes about a Cone of Shame, since he has a tendency to rub his back along the wall like a bear when the healing itches. MAN: I am not a dog! ME: We-ell... MAN: Woof. ...

PROM. Don't ask me how that happened. He was seven years old just the other day, and the only great wish he had was to meet Mickey Mouse (spelled Miky Maws.) Prom is a much bigger deal than it was when I was a young lass. Tickets are much more expensive, and it's like this giant all-day thing. Ian's girlfriend, Caroline, is a charming and sweet girl (plus theater geek and sf nerd, so we like her). Poor girl spent half the day at the salon! I think I went to a hairdresser or something... Exploring the costs of tux rental left both me and Ian in palpitations - poor boy earns about $55 a month from his various "employments," so a $175 rental plus $40 in flowers plus $50 for the prom ticket plus $15 for after-prom was a tad daunting. But since Mom is a super genius, I found that tux rental places sell their unwanted tuxes on eBay, usually when they get some minor problem. I found a tux in his exact size for $35. Perfect condition except for a slight tear at the ...

It's so relaxing to finish a work day, go to a three-hour writing session, and then snag groceries and three gallons of milk at Wal-mart... said no mom ever. ME: *texts* At Wal-mart. Anything you need? BOY: Ice cream and Oreos. ME: NEED BOY: I need ice cream and Oreos. ME: Which do you NEED more? BOY: Ice cream. However, feeding and housing a teenage boy means I theoretically have someone to help bring in the groceries. ME: Get the milk out of the back seat. BOY: First I want hugs. ME: Oh, you like me today? BOY: I missed my mom! Wait, did you get me ice cream? ME: Sorry. Too expensive. BOY: What? ME: I checked out the generic ice cream but they were all out of cookies-n-cream.* BOY: Humph. ME: What, no hugs now? BOY: You didn't get me ice cream! ME: Oh, so I have to buy you ice cream to get hugs? BOY: No, but you get more hugs with ice cream. After unloading the groceries... ME: Oh, put this in the freezer, would you? *hands him quart of cookies-n-cre...

Monday was the First Amendment Free* Food Festival at the university, organized by the school newspaper and Mass Communications department and cosponsored by the St. Louis Society of Professional Journalists. Basically, they give away free food to the students and staff in return for temporarily signing away their First Amendment rights to enter their little “country.” If you’re wearing a religious emblem, they make you take it off. If your shirt says anything subversive, you have to cover it up or turn it inside out. They make you sit where they say you can sit (freedom of association) and make you talk about the subjects they deem appropriate. The coordinator wears a little dictator hat. Here, have a video about it from last year… Jim attended this year, since I was still in Kansas City and was unable to do so. Also, free pizza. Beforehand, he texted me. MAN: Call me before I go to Pizzassian. ME: I think it was MassCommistan, but Tammy can confirm. Later… ...

There's a piece going around the internet that is about 85 percent really good advice. So at first, I hesitated to say what bothered me about it. Here, read it. It's good stuff. " How Not to Sell Books at an Event ." I'll wait. If I had a dollar for every beginning author I've seen with one solitary copy of his book resting on a bare table... I always have at least one backup tablecloth in my bag, sometimes more. I have been known to offer them on loan to cloth-less authors, and every single time that author came back at the end of the day to say, "Wow, that really made a difference! I'm going to pick up some of these." Note to authors: Remnant sales at fabric stores. Get an eight-foot length because you never know the size of the table you'll get. Horror authors can pick up nifty patterns in the post-Halloween sales. Other questions I am often asked: Where did I get that great folding rack? Store Supply Warehouse , folks. If you'...

Boy is working tech crew for the school play: Oliver! He's having a blast, and had the idea this past weekend that we should watch the movie. He'd seen it as a young child, but barely remembered it. Spoilers ahead for a 180-year-old book. If you haven't read Oliver Twist  or seen the movie versions, you really ought to go back to high school and get your money back from your tenth-grade English teacher. ME: There's a lot of the story that probably will make more sense to you now that you're older. BOY: Yeah. Like, why does Nancy love Bill? ME: ... Why does any woman love a man who treats her like shit? You can't really help who you fall in love with. You can choose whether you stay with someone who treats you like shit, but sometimes even that isn't so easily decided. BOY: I don't get it. Later, the chilling Oliver Reed as Bill viciously beats Nancy in front of Fagin's boys to coerce her into helping him kidnap Oliver. It's awful and hum...

Twice in one week. Might be a good time to buy Powerball. Some time ago, I was informed that my car needed a new cabin air filter and a transmission fluid flush. One of those made sense. The latter, however, seemed a tad premature for a car barely two years old. Therefore, I took Ariane to CarZeus (the God of Cars). The original CarZeus is long retired, of course, but in his time he kept some truly atrocious pieces of automotive technology ferrying me to and from work. When he retired, he sold the shop to his top mechanic, and I've stayed with them loyally and referred others to them. They have always taken excellent care of my cars, explained things I didn't understand without an ounce of condescension, helped me avoid some costly mistakes, and have never applied the Female Surcharge that always seems to accompany car repair bills when I go elsewhere. CarZeus's crew confirmed what I suspected: the air filter needed replacement, but the transmission fluid flush was no...

When voice-to-text meets autocorrect.... and Man devolves Man: Did you get the bus pass? Me: Boobs Me: I said poops! Man: Boobs Me: Hoops Me: oh for fucks sake Me: Oops! I said oops! Man: Yes. Boobs. Me: That is not what I said! Man: Ohhhhhh yes. Raaaarrrgh. Me: So I'll stop and get a bus pass on the way home, you pervert. Man: Yes. Ohhhhhhhhargh. Me: This is going on the blog. Me: When cooking this weekend, don't forget there are two frozen lasagna plus chicken nuggets and fries in the freezer. Me: There are a number of canned soups and tons of pasta in the basement, plus the makings of curry chicken casserole or spaghetti. Me: There is a pound of ground meat, please read three Me: Good lord Me: Stupid voice to text Me: Around me Me: Round beef Me: Goddammit Me: Ground meat. Do you frosting Me: Defrosting! Me: If you don't use it, green green wtf referee it Me: Refreeze! Man: Gotcha. Right. Boy: How do you spell ...

Somehow my sister and I managed to see each other within the last twelve months, and still didn't manage to get a picture together. I'm not sure how we keep doing this, except that both of us are usually the person behind the camera. As evidenced here, at my niece's graduation party. The personality is definitely genetic. Seriously, it's getting ridiculous. In 2013, we managed to see each other a record-breaking three times in one year , and still didn't get a photo together. It's Sister Day, a little holiday Melanie and I invented when we were girls growing up in Massachusetts. I wrote about it once before , detailing how we invented a holiday that Hallmark has yet to embrace. And unfortunately, it's yet another Sister Day we don't spend together. That would be the best part about being rich, I think. The ability to simply hop a plane and go see my loved ones would be a gift greater than any I could imagine. My husband has met my sister e...

Boy was visiting his grandparents for spring break last week. Thus, we were left to our own devices and had no idea how much milk to buy. For the purposes of this Snippet, you should understand that Jim can text me from his iPad. And that texting is our primary form of marital communication, given our divergent schedules. JIM: Hon! Run Find My iPhone! Someone stole my phone out of class! ME: *scrambles to FMiP, runs locator, cannot find because phone is off, locks phone and sets locator sound* JIM: Never mind, found it. Everything is okay. ME: Oops. I just locked it. JIM: Unlock it when you can, love. ME: I can't until it's online. Turn it back on, goofball. JIM: Sorry. It slipped down into my bag. ME: *disdainful smilie* Is it working? JIM: Just called you. Can you call back? ME: Give me a second, sparky. I was in the middle of something. Later... ME: Okay, what can we learn from this experience? JIM: I'm sorry. ME: First, keep your damn phone on. You ca...