Babies and things.

Well, so myne wyfe and I went to the doctor's office the other day, which is always a very silly experience for me. I get very bored in doctor's offices, and that means I get goofy. I realize that it's probably useful to have a Scheduler on staff, but the concept of it just strikes me as amusing, when I've been doddering around the clinic ("medical plaza" the sign says) for an hour.

The nice thing about pregnancy, I've discovered, is that mostly by the time the "pregnancy" bit occurs, I've done my part and am in the clear. This is very good, because there seems to be an inordinate number of needles that need to be stuck in people.

I Do Not Like Needles. Terrified of them. My right arm, when I was a teenager, needed to be stitched back together after a nasty accident involving some very old and brittle glass. The anesthesia wore off halfway through and the next dose they give me didn't kick in until they were done. This means I felt at least twenty-four out of the forty-some stitches. Therefore, terrified of needles.

(another aside, since I'm meandering: this is actually the reason why I only type with nine fingers. My middle finger on my right arm is useless, except for gestures. My right arm still doesn't support weight extremely well.)

Anyway...the point I was getting at was that I dislike needles, and they seem to be taking enough blood out of my wife to start a blood bank. She says I'm doing that "exaggeration" thing again, but I maintain it anyway.

If ever you need to sneakily clone someone, just tell them that you need to run Important Bloodwork and then take a pint of blood and be on your way. THey won't even remember you amidst the rest of the hospital staff, the building which I affectionately call "The House of Knives."

This is all a round-about way of saying that we went in for an ultrasound the day before yesterday, and the doctor-guy tells us that Tzinski 2.0 is a boy. All I saw were a series of moving gray blobs in different positions (and, once, hauntingly enough, a face) so I'll take the doctor's word on it.

That said, the doctor's assured my parents that I was a girl, and they swore up and down that my sister HAD to be a boy...so I'm hardly basing my color choices on this doctor's testimony. I'm not entirely certain, but I think that mostly in Medical School, they just teach you how to keep a straight face while you use silly words and point at blobby things and wonder what to do with the pounds of money you made this hour. At night and on alternate Tuesdays, Medical School doubles as Clown College.

But I disgress again.

Baby = 50% Chance of Boy.

There.

It's also snowing, again, which means this may also be my last message to you lot. We're supposed to get upwards of eight inches. So I may have to go feral and herd wild attack moose while living in a cave in the mountains, like Jeremiah Johnson, a movie I reference all the time that no one but me has apparently ever seen.

There again. I'm off to write.

Get In Line... Or Do It Yourself... Or Piss Off.

UGH. I get one call today from the person who is now in charge of the school's fundraiser (since I shirked my volunteer responsibility by getting my fun little job). "What do I do with this stuff?"

Ummmm... let's see...

1. Read the instructions.
2. Do what they say.

Then I get a note - "How soon are you sending the kids their pictures?" (School event, all the kids get their pictures taken and then we get them processed and give each kid a pic.)

1. When I get them done. Here's a clue: If your kid brings it home, it's done. If not... they're not done yet. K?
2. Or you could fricking do it yourself and get them sooner, K?

Geez.

Other than being barraged by idiocy, I'm in a pretty good mood. Except for being sorely disappointed that I haven't gotten my daily heavy breathing phone call from Rllg. *grin*

The Day After Yesterday

So, three days ago I was wandering around the world in barely a sweater, it was warm and sunny, everything had melted, and life was nice.

Then, the storm hit.

We have, on average, around fourteen inches of snow on the ground. In places where it blew or could pile a little, it's easily twenty to twenty-two inches deep. It took me twenty-five minutes to shovel out the car so my wife could go to work. The wind is still going at ten miles an hour, but yesterday it ranged between twenty and thirty miles an hour.

Alas I have, when supplying my house, completely neglected the whole Snowshoes-and-dogsleds area, which could prove problematic. Fortunately, I have enough supplies (viz. popcorn, books) that I can hold out until help arrives.

Later, I will begin digging a tunnel under the snow, with holes for air every dozen yards or so. In this manner, I hope to reach civilization again.

Excuse me, I must go chop off my left frostbitten foot.

I had my Angsty-Os for breakfast today!

Feel free to skip over this post full of vague and useless ranting.

I haven't really delved into the specifics, but suffice it to say that "emotional rollercoaster" is a gross understatment for my life the past two months.

Then yesterday, someone decided that now was the perfect time to pile on even more bullshit regarding stuff that is due to go on over the summer.

Why not? It's not like I have ENOUGH stressing me out, let's pile on a few more things! Sure! Carrie's not the type to end up with a gun in the clock tower at the town square, no sir! Ha ha! Oh. Wait...

So I spent most of last evening wallowing in my misery, and ended up crying myself to sleep in sheer frustration. Husband is a "fixer" so when I was sobbing out my angst to him, he was helpfully offering suggestions. Which made things worse because I just wanted to vent. (Although I did like his suggestion of watching Sopranos reruns for ideas on "solving" our "problem".)

Right now I'm just drained.

We're going to a pig roast this afternoon (Yes, a pig roast in 16º weather. Our friends are insane.) Other than that, I'm spending the weekend holed up at home and adhering to a strict code of avoidance and denial as far as the outside world is concerned. Thank heaven for Caller ID, which will be a valuable tool in my quest for solitude.

I much prefer being happy and angstless. My kitties help with that, so I'll share a few cute pictures of them. The first 3 pics were taken by my son, who thoroughly enjoys the digital camera and extreme closeups. LOL

This is Kelly, my nosy adventurer. She sleeps wrapped around my head at night. She loves to investigate everything.

This is Maggie, my lazy fluffball. She's floppy - if you pick her up, it's like she's boneless. It's really weird.

And this is Tucker, my scaredy-cat. She stays in the bedroom if anyone comes by. Right now she's playing with some of Son's stray Legos.

We got all three of our girls from the same litter. Here's a pic I took when they were still babies. They still curl up together sometimes, only now it has to be on the floor or the bed because they don't all fit on the chair sprawled out. (And we don't have that hideous chair anymore.)

Quick note

BBT Magazine has a new web-site online which is very impressive and cool and built by yours truly, so you'd better love it (because I failed to go to sleep last night in the process of building it).

www.bbtmagazine.com

Check it out.

My robot serial is going through weird formatting issues which changes how I have to write it. It's still going ahead, though, so that makes me happy. I should have the first 'issue' (which will be three episodes long) done in the next hour or so. Released sometime in May, I think.

I have some interesting ruminations to share, but no time to share them! So they'll have to wait for a day or two.

It's thirty degrees and sunny outside, and it feels like summer in my deluded mind. I have all the windows open. I'm going to die thinking it was summer but with pneumonia anyway. You just watch.

Suffocating fish?

Did you know that goldfish can suffocate in their own water? Weird. I discovered this a couple of weeks ago when one of our three goldfish was floating at the top of the water, acting all weird. I can't flush them until they're totally dead, so I let him flop around. A few hours later, the second goldfish started floating and acting weird.

At first, I assumed the third fish was attempting fishicide.

The water was clear, but I decided to check the filter (disgusting) and do a partial water replacement. I'm not sure why, but I did. Perhaps to either shock them into total death or at least making the third fish more comfortable. (Sorry about all the death, but hey! A clean filter!)

An hour or two after I messed with the tank, both goldfish were fine. So I searched for information and learned that yes, fish can suffocate in their own ick.

So the goldfish are perfectly fine.

Unfortunately, this morning I discovered our Beta fish dead in his (her?) tank. I'm not quite sure what happened.

The tiny rope bridge between the tanks and the miniature gun with finprints are rather suspicious. I think it might have been the goldfish...

mean

pete

mean

mean mean mean

replaces me with nora
lets her steal my guppies

threatens to replace me again

tries
kissing up

won't work

money hungry
fixing nora's porch

mean

blames nora
im not sure

could it be

but then

perhaps

not mean
after all

ok

maybe a little kissing up
would work

to fill
the void
ripped through my soul
laying in shards
around my feet

smilie hugs

okay

all is forgiven

again

but i still miss
my guppies

why im so sad

its cuz when i caem on carrie had posted poetry and i was like you know how mcuh i like poetry but she didnt let me do it she did it instead and it made me really mad liek that time my dad told me i couldnt get a two inch metal stud through my left eyeball and so iw etn to my room and lsitened to nirvana because KURT COBAINE UNDERSTANDS ME even though the governemnt killed him for being too real

anyway i just wante d ot say that if carrie wnats to do poetry thats FINE and i dont care she can do it all she wants u guys like her better anywayz and i dont care thats why i wear black and shave my head cuz i dun care

ill just be over hear in a bleak blackness of a bleak black hole which are words iw ould use when im writing storyes which im really good at and im going to get publisehd one day and make millions and be like hah ahah haha guys look at me now

im going to eat a galon of ice creem

gone

gone nora
guppies gone away

gone gone gone
with my soul
agony
arrives

with the hole
left by nora

and guppies

gone

they have gone

agony consumes me
without nora
without guppies

i will die
with each step of her foot
each flip of their fins

they rip out my soul
i will die

poetry pours from
the blackened
gaping
hole
that held my
soul

angst

and i am dying

because
they are

gone

Good News, Bad News

The Bad News: Nora Roberts escaped, by cunningly using a small emerald that she kept in her pocket, just for the heck of it, to carve out the basement windows. She has also taken the guppies with her.

The Good News: Carrie and I have to post again! And we're so excited! Wow!

The Bad News: You probably liked Nora Roberts better and are loathe to read now that we have returned. This causes us much angst.

The Good News: That means we can post really good angst-ridden free verse poetry for you! Wow!

The Bad News: I have been a little sarcastic in this post.

The Good News: Here's a very interesting article on robots, the history and nature of them.

Har Dee Har Har (or should I say Pee Dee Har Har)

Why yes, the management team here at CarrPeeDiem DOES have an announcement, but it's not the one below. Ha ha, what a funny entry that was! Replacing Carrie with Nora Roberts! Ha ha!

Seriously folks, the REAL announcement is that Pete is being replaced by a tank full of guppies. While they are admittedly not as cute, they eat a lot less and don't subject Carrie to super-human levels of sarcasm.

And odds are better that Carrie's lengthy emails will get a response.

So now, a word from our newest bloggers!

Glub glub glub glub glub glub glub glub glub glub!

Glub, glub glub, glub.

Glub glub?

Glub!

Writing in Death

This post is an announcement.

We here at CarrPeeDiem are pleased to announce that, with Carrie no longer on the internet, what with having friends and a job and a life, all of which she loves more than us, we have decided to bring fresh blood into the blog in order to keep the synergistically fast-moving energy of our community outward intentions active.

You heard me right.

I would like to welcome our new blogger...Nora Roberts, everybody! Say hi!

Hello.

The other day I was writing a novel dilligently. I was working quickly with my hands a blur of motion like rain over the keyboard that I typed on sparingly when I received a phone call from Pete. I cradled the phone to my ear.

"It's Pete!" Pete said gustily.

"I thought I told you never to call here," I said angrily.

"I know," Pete mused thoughtfully, "But I had to. We need someone to talk on our blog!"

"I don't do blogs," I enunciated clearly, "Blogs are for wannabe writers."

"Don't you keep a journal of some sort?" Pete inquired questioningly.

"Yes," I replied informingly, "But I write the entries on hundred dollar bills."

"Oh," Pete muttered murmeringly. "I see."

ANd he hung up.

An hour later, there was a knock at my door and Pete asked me to smell this rag, which I did, and that's how I woke up groggily in this basement where no one is feeding me and I have to post or --

Sorry folks, Nora had to run! What a great gal! She'll be back with further tidbits in future weeks, though! Ha! Ha!

Work, Snow, Sick

This whole job thing is seriously cutting into my Internet time. Would you believe that they don't pay me to get online? As a matter of fact, I've been really busy and wouldn't be able to get online even if they did let me. *grumble*

I actually really like my new job. The people are a hoot. We even have interdepartmental Uno games during lunch. Winning department gets a Burger King crown. Definitely a fun place to work. I'll like it better when I know what the heck I'm doing and don't have to keep asking how to do the job. I'm apparently well ahead of where they assumed I'd be, so that's good. And bodes well for my evaluation in 90 days. BUWAHAHAHAHAHA


***
In other news, Son's school has been closed for 2 1/2 days. We got a fun ice storm. On top of a bunch of snow. So on Tuesday afternoon they got off at noon, then were off Wednesday and Thursday. I'm waiting to see what happens tomorrow. Not that it matters.

Why?

Because my poor kid is miserable sick. Hubby took off Wednesday because of the weather. A 50 mile commute and an ice storm don't mix well. So I got to take the truck to work, which is good because my car wouldn't have made it. Nearly half the people didn't make it to work, which was interesting. I made it in before my supervisor. Ha!

Last night, Son spent part of the night barfing! Fun! Just how I want to spend the night. Much more enjoyable than, yanno, sleeping.

This evening, we're watching Survivor while he lays on the couch, all bundled up. He's been running a fever all day, so it looks like I'll be missing a day of work tomorrow. I'm kind of hoping they cancel school. Tomorrow was only a half-day anyway, so a delay would be stupid. And Son is already whining about losing his Perfect Attendance status.

He's a nut.

Just like his mom. (Yeah, I said it before you did. Ha!)

But on the upside, if I stay home tomorrow with my sick kid, I can waste the day online! WOOO HOOO! Of course I'm sure Peeeeeeete won't chat with me cuz he'll be off working or something equally unreasonable. ;oP


***
Meh, Survivor isn't thrilling me. I'm hoping it gets better as the season goes on.

Spring! I say thee, spriiiiing!

Except it's not spring here yet, but my body's decided it should be. Today, despite the temperature being below zero after the wind chill, I opened all the windows. It was wonderful. You don't realize how stale the air is getting until you let it all out.

(The fact that I made fried chicken a couple nights ago, and we have all manner of cats in the house does not help the air-getting-stale business)

It got chilly eventually, but it felt wonderful. Now if only I could go outside in something besides eight layers of clothes...

So.

Writing.

(that's nearly all I ever talk about, I realize, but to be fair...that's nearly all I ever do. It's like being a fish who's preoccupied with swimming and looking goggle-eyed. No one should be surprised.)

I missed my deadline, but I knew I would, and it's not by much, and it doesn't affect anything too badly. I still got a serious lot of fiction written in short order, something I'm pretty proud of.

I kept saying that when I was done with this first batch of episodes, I would take a break for a few days and sleep a lot (since last night I went to bed by 2am, and it felt like I'd gone to bed incredibly early) and I would hang out with friends and such.

Except...

...except that as I wrapped up the last of the episodes, I realized that I have a short story which has been waiting patiently to be written which I really want to write. So I'll work on it slower than I worked on the first four episodes of the serial, but I think I'll work on it anyway.

And between episode's 2 and 3, I started to write the beginning pages of a comic book script, for a one-shot story which I showed to an editor. He read the story, and suggested that it would work much better as a single issue comic book. He's right. It does. So I'm re-writing that.

And...I'm itching to write the novel that Carrie and I dreamed up (remember? set in London? with zombies? Carrie? Hello?) but which I'm patiently waiting to start writing until she and I can work on it together.

I've done so good this time. My collaberations usually fail because I stat wirting something with somebody else, and then I fail to run out of ideas and wind up writing the whole damn thing, and thne I have to go to the co-author and say "er. Sorry. I wound up doing the story myself."

Trying not to do that here.

For my next post, I hope to show off a piece of concept art for my serial, and maybe give some information about it. I raelly want to, I just have to make sure it's not too soon. We shall see.

Right. It's above zero now, time to break out the shorts and go work on my tan!

(or, huddle inside and try to stay warm)

Deadlines, shattering of

This morning, I woke up fast, despite having been up until four in the morning last night. This was because the sound waking me up was not the melodious sound of my wife's voice, nor the persistent sound of my cats' voices, but the slightly unhappy voice of the bookstore owner, wondering why, if I was the one opening the bookstore this morning, the bookstore was unopened and I was not present.

Not the best way to get up. It got me up, though.

I discovered with a sick thud, once my brain had turned into a working component and not something I just carry around, that today's February 12th. That means I have four days to make The Deadline. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, except that I still have 22,000 words to go. Half of one episode and the full text of the fourth episode.

Normally, when I get this crunched against a deadline, I just go without sleeping much. This is only marginally helpful here, since I'm already up until three or four in the morning.

I'm going to come very close to making it. I really am. Heck, I might still make it. Episode four might come to me as a gift from the gods, pre-wrapped and flowing onto the paper. But the odds are better that I'll have to stop now and again during writing to figure out where I'm going, and how close it is to where I intended to go. I can't be quite as free to wander when I'm writing serialized fiction. Or at least, I can wander all I want, but it has to be accounted for, so I don't wander myself into a corner with no escape. Serial fiction is, essentially, writing in the public eye. I'm less willing to just head off blindly and face the possibility of breaking the whole thing. I don't want people reading episode 25 and it ends on page 12 out of nowhere with"...sorry folks, I'm out of ideas. Hey, remember episode 15? Boy that was cool! Please do not try to make contact with me. My mail is being screened. Yours, the Author."

...

I also discovered, yesterday, that while sitting inside, I had to remind myself that if I stepped outside, it was going to be sub-zero weather with snow on the ground. In my mind, it's sunny and warm and green, with a gentle cool breeze. This means I'm either going a little bit nuts (a distinct possibility I haven't ruled out) or else I've had enough of Minnesota winters and I'm ready for spring (more likely.)

So.

That's where I'm at.

To The Back Burner With You!

It appears that my writing will once again be relegated to the Back Burner O' Life.

Here in Carrieland, 2007 has been very, very rude. From Mr. Carrie's company being shut down, to my mom spending two days in the hospital with heart troubles, let's just say my stress level has been off the charts.

Mr. Carrie found another job, started it, and... it's horrible. "Hostile Work Environment" is a gross understatement. So we're back to Square One there. In the interim, I was told about a job opening, interviewed for it, then waited five stressful days before they called to OFFER ME THE JOB!! YAY! They even offered me more than the posted starting salary, and a boatload of perks and benefits. So I only have three more days left of being a Stay At Home Mom. (Not that I'm home much anyway...)

Right now I'm stressing about clothes. As a SAHM, my typical outfit is jeans and a sweatshirt. Unfortunately, while comfortable, it's not appropriate for a professional environment. I wander through the aisles of clothes and feel like an orangutan in a jewelry store. I've never been good at shopping for clothes, particularly when I have to stop and try them on. Ick. (I don't collect purses or shoes, either.)

But I am excited about this new job! It seems like it will suit me, the hours are good, the pay is good, the benefits are outstanding, and I'll have my own kick-ass desk that I can put my favorite pictures and flowers on. Yay.

So yeah, it looks like my writing will be taking a back seat, which really isn't a big deal to me. It's taken a back seat before. Writing's something I've always done, something I'll aways do, but I've never been consumed by this fiery passionate need like some writers are. Once I get the hang of my new schedule (and getting used to being paid for working instead of spending an obscene amount of time volunteering), I'll get back on track. But until then, it's not looking good for novel edits. (Which is pure drudgery anyway...)

Hmm... last chance to take a mid-week nap...

"...and not even Nate the Great can find my tea."

This is just a quick post, to let those of you in the world who read this blog know that 1) I am still alive and 2) I'm still deadline-racing. It's getting tight. The writing goes well and most of the ideas I need are still there (and the ones I don't need will come shortly.)

Some of the artwork and concept sketches coming in for this series are absolutely gorgeous. There's nothing to boost the flagging energy of a tired writer like checking the e-mail and finding pictures of the people you're writing about.

(I will talk to editor and artist alike and see if I can get permission to post some pictures here and there, for people to look at. It may have to wait until the project's official announcement. We'll see.)

I'll be finished with this four-episode batch by February 15th. Then, I have a stand-alone short story that needs to be written and gotten out to an editor. After that, I'll try to be a little more conscious and useful-like in this great, fuzzy, internet world.

COLTS WIN!!!

COLTS WIN!!!! COLTS WIN!!!!
COLTS WIN!!!! COLTS WIN!!!!

That game ROCKED.

Congrats to both teams for putting on a hell of a show!

Fun with voice recognition..

Hello and I am now experimenting with voice recognition software as you can say there are slave wages appearing despite the fact that I’m wasted time training missive I have no idea how this is more useful than simply sitting here and-out homer so said that supposed with enough training this could be useful for economic woes fourteen however since I firmly sounds like all your face, along to us, suspension of these his law firm very much PS Johnny the desktop stop to think

Edited to provide something useful, such as This Handy Dandy Link!
(this link comes to you from a very mysterious and interesting source, i.e., my mommy.)

GO COLTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know how Pete feels about excessive exclamation points, so he may wish to avert his eyes for the following post...

It's Super Bowl

Sunday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Hoo yeah, we're excited here in Carrieland!!!!

I spent the morning decorating. Yes, decorating. Yes, we're freaks. And we're okay with that! I strung cute little party lights - one string with Colts helmets, one string with plain footballs (that I'll use next year when my BALTIMORE RAVENS make it to the Super Bowl!!!!!) and I hung football-themed streamers and even hung some cute footbally stuff outside on our deck. *grin*

In case it isn't clear, we LOVE football here. Hubby is a huge Colts fan, so he's on Cloud 9 right now, counting down the minutes until kickoff. (308 right now)

We're having a little shin-dig with a few friends over. We'll be having pizza, hot wings, chips and dip, and of course some beer. I'll be drinking iced tea, but I'll hold a bottle of beer throughout the evening just to fit in. *grin*

Hubby just left for a grocery run to get salsa and tortilla chips. Yum. They may not make it until this evening!

Not only am I looking forward to the game itself, I am really looking forward to the COMMERCIALS!! I can't wait to see what clever spots all these companies come up with. Ameriquest (don't judge too quickly) and Bud (streaking goat) were my favorites from last year. It's the one and only time of the year that I look forward to the ninety BILLION commercials.

Gotta run and finish our 75-foot "Go Colts" banner.

(Not really. But if the Ravens were playing? Er, yeah, probably.)

Open Season on Harry Potter

We just got done watching Open Season, which we loved! As usual, the critics gave it rather crappy reviews, so naturally, we thought it was great. Lots of cute parts, and several times I laughed out loud, once startling my peacefully sleeping kitty. The premise is that a domesticated bear gets released into the wild - during open hunting season. Hilarity ensues. Very cute movie, great for kids and adults alike.


***
A few minutes ago, I hit the button to preorder Harry Potter 7 from Amazon.com. I stuck with the regular edition, because I didn't see the point of springing for the deluxe edition. Now if it had a ton of additional scenes (Director's cut! Includes 100 pages of deleted scenes!) I would
have. But I'm cheap.
Apparently lots of other folks aren't though, since the Deluxe Edition is topping the sales charts - 6 months before the book is even released!


I'm not sure how I feel about the 7th book coming out. On the one hand, I'm so excited to find out how it all ends. On the other hand, I'm sad to see how it ends. Ends. *sigh* I'm thrilled that HP5 is coming out in July - and I'm betting the DVD will be released just in time for Christmas! (Yeah. I'll own it the day it's released, but for those with a little self control, that'll be a great gift!)

I am disappointed, though, that neither the book nor the movie is taking advantage of the 7/7/07 date for release. I would have thought that surely ONE of them would have used that date, much like The Omen took advantage of 6/6/06 last year. It would have been marketing genius that droves of HP fans would have appreciated. Not that it matters, since we're apparently a bunch of lemmings anyway, judging from the scores of preorders.


Lemmings. You know what? I'm okay with that. Lemmings are cute.


Just don't lead me near a cliff, okay?

Why I Do Not Get Iced Tea, by Pete Tzinski

Here's a Jambalaya picture.

Because I'm in a Jambalaya mood today. I think we may have to have that for dinner tomorrow. If the vast readership of this blog will inundate me with recipes, I'll pick one and try it out. Otherwise, I'll just do what I normally do, which is make it up as I go until it looks like A) Jambalaya and B) Something I want to Eat.


If this post were a conversation, and it were taking place in my house, then right now you'd be hearing groans and complaining of "Oh ye gads, he's going to go on about tea again..."

Yes I am. And the house is empty today, so there's no one to tell me to be quiet and go back to my writing. Hah!

Iced tea is a staple of the rest of my family, be it my wife or me mam, or what-have-you. Everyone likes iced tea! Whether it's sun-tea, or just sitting in a pitcher in the fridge tea, it's iced tea and it's welcomed...except...by...me...

I've tried it. Several times now. Some of those attempts were made under duress, I'd like to add, but nonetheless, attempts were made.

Mostly, the reason I don't like it is, it tastes like cold hot tea. That is to say, when I drink iced tea, it tastes like when I've been writing for a long time and suddenly remember my teacup and I take a drink, and it's long since gone cold and started to separate into base layers of sediment. Any muse-like haze of creative bliss is instantly shattered by that old, cold hot tea taste, which is like having your teeth knocked out with a big stinky fist, to pick a phrase.

Iced tea tastes like that, except it's made and drunk on purpose!

And that's why I don't get iced tea.

Now give me hot tea! Yes! A good Earl Gray loose leaf tea is nothing to be sneezed at (or in) and while I have some Irish Breakfast tea (also loose leaf; always loose leaf) I tend to drink that less frequently. I drink my tea black, thus far, and it's too potent. It needs something (lemon? Milk? Cream? I have no idea.) to turn it into something I could drink and not try to run a car off of.

I have two fairly deep shelves of a cupboard devoted to tea in this house. All sorts of things, from the above mentioned Earl Gray, to my beloved Empress of China, to a surprisingly delicious Strawberry Pur-eh tea, which I avoided drinking for a long time (because I generally don't like fruit teas). Once I tried it, it was gone in a week. And I'd bought a fair bit of it, mind you.

Black Raspberry (another exception, but a rare one), Ceylon Kenilworth, Rose of Shozu (FIFTEEN DOLLARS AN OUNCE FOR THAT STUFF. Ye gads.) African Rosebush, several other Rooibos teas I can't remember, and so on, and so forth. Lots of tea.

I'd end this post with a plaintive whine for someone to get me some tea, only I've got a very good pot of Earl Gray tea in front of me that's slowly vanishing, so I'm content.

I'll end it with a plaintive whine for about six more hours built into each of my days, so's I can not only make my robot series deadline, but also get a few hours sleep each night (by few, I mean more than my current three)

Right. Off to bang out a few more thousand words!

Remember to Breathe

I'm writing this about an hour before my j... j... j... job interview. It occurred to me that I haven't had an actual interview since early 1993. Yeah. Fourteen years ago. My last job, I ran into the new editor of the newspaper and said, "I'd love to work at the paper!" and she said, "Okay!" That was my interview. Even that was in 1996.

I haven't had an actual job since 1997. EARLY 1997. Midway through my pregnancy, Hubby and I decided I should stay home, which is where I've been ever since.

Last month, Hubby's company informed him that the place was closing. So I had been thinking about going back to work myself. Well, he got a job that will pay about the same as before, with the same benefits. So the pressure was off.

Then, out of the blue, a relative showed up with a job application and a copy of a job posting. At first, I'm like pffffft, I don't need a job. Then I got to reading it. It's an office job, the pay is really good, and it has benefits. Really good ones. It's close to home, and at a place I already do business with.

So I decided to fill out the application and turn it in.

And now I'm going for an interview.

I think I'm going to puke.

*whimper*

**UPDATE**

Well, I didn't barf on anyone. I didn't even retch! Yay!

It ended up that my interview was done by three people at the same time. No pressure there! It seemed to go really well. They asked me a bunch of questions, and I think I bullshitted pretty well. ;o)

They said they'd make their decision and let me know within a week. It's out of my hands now, so I believe I'm done freaking out.

This is not bragging.

No, it isn't.

It's just me saying that I got a copy of The Frost-Haired Vixen by John Zakour in the mail this evening, and am happily devouring my way through it. If it were gloating, I'd point out that I got it from the author himself. So obviously, it's not gloating.

I finished episode 2 of the robot series last night. Thank God. That one was a hard one to write. Episode 3, probably coming at me tomorrow night. For now, I let my brain uncramp a little. Although oddly enough, I don't go into "Stop writing" mode, I go into "I have this great short story idea that I'd love to write all by itself, and I just realized I understand how to write the script for the first three pages of my long-delayed comic book Dark and --"

The hamster's stepped out for a coffee break, but the wheel is still spinning.

...

Most of this week, my wife was sick with the plague. I would mostly write while she did sick people things such as eat ice cream without guilt, watch daytime soap operas without guilt (I don't know how, either) and compete with the cats in the house for who could spend the longest portion of the day curled up on the bed, asleep.

I would then leave her sick and go to work where...everyone had come down with the plague.

Everyone is better now, thank you.

And because I'm two weeks and 30,000 words away from a deadline, means that it's now the time when my body takes stock of things and decides to come down with...the plague. I assume this is what's happening anyway. I'm sore all over and stiff, and I can't find a comfortable position to be on the computer that doesn't involve being slothful on the couch.

So! That's my end of the world!