Princess for Hire Book Signing, My fish Keep Dying, and a really lame lunch discussion

Thing 1

Um... evil Chopester died. And then our snail, Quid, died. Apparently we're the only ones in the universe who can't keep "unkillable" fish alive.

I was ready to pack up the aquarium and call it a life, but then Sam came home from the pet store with another one. We cleaned out the tank of death really well, and we used more bleach than ever, so our new little bugger, Chopes, would feel at home. Please don't report us to PETA.

I'm trying not to get attached. Chopes will flare his gorgeous fins, and Sam will be all, "It's so beautiful!" and I'll be all, "Meh. Whatev's." and Sam's all, "Look at the fins...  they're like golden fiery spikes!"

Thing 2:

I went to Lindsey Leavitt's book signing for Princess for Hire. She did a great job- totally down to earth and delightful- and she had a great turnout.

(Catie, me, Lindsey, Valynne, Emily, Sarah- who's book comes out April 17th)

She read from her book, and she also made little goody bags with candy necklaces and little tiaras. Several little girls showed up in full princess regalia. (Did I use that word right? Regalia? It doesn't sound right, and the more I look at it, the wronger it sounds...) 

Afterward we went to the Dodo, where my mouth ran amok. As usual. This time the discussion started with the Chippendales vs. the Thunder from Down Under, and ended with me ranting about how the sexual orientation of strippers shouldn't shouldn't matter.

 

 vs.

My impassioned argument was strange for several reasons because:

1. I've never been to either show.

2. I have no plans to go to either show.

3. So why do I care that the Chippendales look more feminine than the Thunder from Down Unders?

4. I mean, no one was arguing with me, and yet...

5. I kept repeating myself.

4. And my voice kept getting louder and louder and the nice women who were brunching right behind us looked disgusted...

5. Because women who "brunch" as a verb shouldn't be exposed to such filth.

6. Yes, I just said "exposed" while talking about strippers, and I just giggled to myself in my kitchen

7. And it comes full circle- I need to grow up.

8. That's what she said.

How was y'all's weekend?

Our Fish succombs to Evil, and Lindsey Leavitt's book signing: Come hang with me!

Today's crazy. I spent the morning at the salon, cheering on my stylist as she tried to fix my latest hair fryage disaster. Sorry so late. Longer letter later.

Thing 1:

Our fish, Chopie, died. 

(Chopie, in happier times)

Yesterday, Kid C walks past the tank with my sister, when he stops and says -- with instant tears in his eyes, "Chopie's dead."

me calling from the other room: "Don't be silly. Betta fish live for years. You have to work to kill them."

my sister: "Oh yeah, he's totally fine." But behind Kid C's back, she's looking at me and shaking her head, and mouthing the words He's totally not fine.

So I take a look. Chopie's upside down, floating in the center of the tank (not the top... who knew?) and his eyes are literally bugging out of his head.

I shoo Kid C out the door, and tell him everything will be okay. Then I call Sam and order him to grab another Chopie asap.

Sam comes home with this:

Most decidedly, this is not a Chopie lookalike. In fact, it's the opposite of Chopie. 

So, I did what any other mother would do when presented with a learning opportunity. At some point, every kid has to learn about life and death.

I told Kid C that Chopie had a rough day, glimpsed the afterlife, saw a light at the end of the tunnel, and decided against going toward it. Instead, Chopie turned to the dark side. 

He is now known as "Chopester", Chopie's evil alter-ego, much like Angel vs. Angelus.

 Don't worry. I told Kid C that someday, if Chopester works really hard, he just may earn his soul back and return to his original colors.

2. Wanna hang with me?

Tomorrow (Saturday), Lindsey Leavitt is signing books at The King's English at 2:00. I'll be there, as will most of my writer peeps. I met Lindsay in L.A. at the SCBWI conference, and she very much rocks.

Her book PRINCESS FOR HIRE looks fabulous and I can't wait to get my hands on a copy.

So, if you're available, come to the party and find me and say hello. 

Okay, back to the madness. Anyone else's husband turn into a completely different person during March Madness? Sam's coming home early today. He never comes home early. Methinks it hast something to do with 10 grown men trying to put a ball through a hoop.

Kid B Makes a Discovery... and Contests Galore!

First, a couple of items of interest... at least to me:

1. Book Reviews:

Hubby Sam reviewed five books at his blog, including Andre Agassi's autobiography and Todd Strasser's Wish You Were Dead. If you like to read, check it out.

2. More Chances for Free Books:

My WIFYR (Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers) contest is open until the end of the month. Basically if you're not signed up for this most excellent conference and you sign up before March 31st, and then you leave me a comment telling me you did, you will be entered in a drawing to win one of five signed books! (Chances are very very good you'll win.)

Also, if you tweet about the contest and the workshop, I'll put an entry in for you.

Tweeting/blogging/facebooking: +1 entry
Signing up: +5 entries

You can leave a comment here telling me your entries, or on the original contest post. Yeah, I know. It's confusing. But not really.

Fellow 6-er and #2 Crazy Emily Wing Smith is holding a contest too. You don't even have to register to enter hers. You can tweet about it or blog about it or other easy stuff.

Another fellow 6-er and #4 Crazy Valynne Nagamatsu is doing a contest too.

And again, fellow 6-er and #5 Crazy Kim Reid is in on the action too.

So basically, you can sign up for the conference (or even leave a comment in some cases) and enter all contests!

Coincidentally, if you sign up for Emily Wing Smith's workshop, you'll be hanging with 1/3 of the 6. If you only sign up for the afternoons (a bargain at $125) you'll meet 5/6 of the 6. Sorry if that's confusing, I just love to use fractions to describe social events.

On to the post...

So, if you've been a long-time reader of the blog, you may have deduced I have a boy with special needs. I don't blog about it a lot, but something happened this week that cracked me up.

(Kid B playing the piano, and his cousin Asher digging for treasure)

When you have a kid with special needs, you celebrate every accomplishment just as you would with an average kid. Their little successes might appear smaller, but they're not. You just have to use the right lens.

So we often find ourselves making announcements  like, "Kid B knows where his ears are!" and "Kid B only sang the alphabet song three times today!"

We celebrate every tiny step forward, and we're lucky that he has teachers who join in the celebration and document his progress in a daily journal. 

Nothing comes easy, and little jobs like potty-training last for years, it seems. The journey is arduous, but not without its moments of levity. 

On Kid B's latest progress report, his teacher wrote:

"B's doing much better on the playground. He's actually exploring the equipment... Instead of just playing with the wood chips."

So, after nearly a year, Kid B noticed the playground housed more than woodchips, and he was excited. And it became a milestone. Like: "By 4 years and 3 months of age, child should discover that woodchips are not the funnest part of the playground." He's right on target.

We laughed so hard. I don't know if this is universally funny, or if it's "special needs" funny, or funny ha ha, or funny wah-wah wah. But it's been two days, and I'm still laughing, so I thought I'd share and you can laugh with us.

How do you deal with your Peppery Potatoes? The Blame Game, or the Chicago Way?

It's Monday! Five more days til the weekend!

Do you ever have a foreboding feeling? You know, that feeling where you're sure if you spent the time to wash a potato, wrap it in tin foil, and bake it for an hour, you'd just end up pouring an entire bottle of pepper on it?

(Okay, I'm not saying it was any act of culinary mastery making the potato or anything, but still... that's the most cooking I'll ever do in a year. So what may seem like a simple baked potato is really like everyone else's Thanksgiving dinner.)

I was so mad. My first instinct was to blame someone. I accused Sam of leaving the pepper container facing the wrong way, so I had no choice but to open the "pour" side instead of the "sprinkle" side. 

He said that's like blaming him for the history of violence in the Middle East, to which I responded by saying that his comparison was as ridiculous as blaming me for Eve's Original Sin. This is basically the pattern for all of our fights.

But if we've learned anything from Washington politics, it's that nobody likes a cry baby. We all have our "peppery potatoes" to deal with. Mine just happens to be an actual peppery potato.

The question is, what are you prepared to do about it? I plan to deal with mine the "Chicago Way".

My potato made me sneeze. Not only that, I had to find something else to eat. I practically ended up in the hospital.

So, I sent one of his to the morgue. My target was the tater-tot, part of the potato family. (Truth be told, the tater tots had been sitting in my freezer for over two years, so I didn't feel any Catholic guilt over throwing the bag away). 

How was your weekend? Did you have any peppery potatoes to put out? Did you bring a knife to a gunfight?

Hard and Fast Evidence I'm Losing my Mind... oh wait... pretty flowers.

TGIF, because I'm going out of my MF mind.

My good friend Heather sent me a facebook message the other day:

"I left my Sig Sauer hat at your house."

She said it like she expected me to know what she was talking about, which I didn't. Was it a hat? Or a saying? Or code for something? So I googled Sig Sauer hat and two things popped up. 

This:

and This:

My first thought was, ha ha, it's a gun joke, and Heather knows how much I hate guns. But then I thought it's not really that funny, and Heather knows funny, and so maybe she really did leave this so-called "Sig Sauer hat" at my house. So I ask her what it looks like. Because yes, I really am that stupid.

She's all, "It's black with the words 'Sig Sauer' on the front." She's nice enough not to add a "duh" at the end.

Now I've established what this fabled hat looks like, so I do a quick once-over in my house. Nothing.

So I FB message her, "I'll keep looking, but I'm sure I would've noticed it by now," thinking all the while she's mistaken.

A few days go by, and we have some friends over who are admiring my new picture of London over our fireplace, and something catches my eye. Do you see it?

Here's a closer look. Tell me if you see it.

There are so many problems with this picture, worst of all the knowledge that at some point, I picked up the hat and put it on the nutcracker. (Why do we even have that nutcracker on display? Balancing precariously on a random plate?) And then, during all my 'once-overs' I never noticed it. And I was looking.

I shouldn't be surprised. That same day, Sam and his friend Brandon were stringing racquets when Sam asked me if I knew where we kept the allen wrenches. 

I'm all, "I know I've seen them somewhere lately. Where was it?"

A couple days later, I go out onto my front porch and see this.

Do you see it? Take a closer look:

To be fair to me, how was I supposed to find the allen wrenches before the allen wrench bulbs blossomed?

Luckily the weather has been just nice enough that by this weekend we should have a whole garden of allen wrenches.

I need therapy. 

So, what are y'all doing this weekend? Anything fun?

My Heart Grew Three Sizes, so I Wrote a Poem Just for You. Yes, YOU! And More Free Books... And Winners.

I have a present for y'all today, but first... Housekeeping.

1. Winner from Friday:

And the winner of the signed copy of Loser's Guide to Life and Love, picked by a random number generator:

L.T. Elliot

Please email me your address. (My email addy is in sidebar).

2. Wanna earn another free book?

I've told you before how much I love love the Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Workshop. (WIFYR).  I know first hand of people who found their agents or sold their books at this conference.

This year, the conference will be held in Sandy, Utah at the Waterford School. (Instead of BYU. I think the change in venue has caused some confusion.)

Here's how you can win a book:

It has some great instructors, including my own writer peep Emily Wing Smith.  If you can only go to one conference this year, make it this one. If you haven't signed up, do it now. Then leave me a comment, telling me you did, and you'll be entered to win a book. I'm giving away five, so your odds of winning will be spectacular. Contest is only open to those who are not already signed up.

But wait, there's more...

Writer peeps Kim and Valynne are also holding contests for free books, so check it out.

3. I dipped my hand in poetry. And it's gooey...

Okay, so last Monday, I did a guest post at Jody Sparks' blog, and her hits went through the roof (my phrase) because of you guys. And my heart was filled with love. Seriously, it grew three sizes that day.

So, I was inspired to write a poem. And I never write poems. It's an ode to you, blog reader. Love lift us up where we belong. I hope you like it.

Oh Blog Readers:

How do I love thee?

Let me count the ways.

Starting with those rare

35+ comment days

I know people don’t think

Their comments are noticed

Oh crap, did I really

just force a rhyme with ‘noticed’?

I read all the comments

And I love every one

From the longest opus

To the lamest pun

Through fryage of hair,

Through drainage of pus,

Through puddles of blood,

There’s always been us.

You put up with my obsessions

With Rafa, Boobies and The Six

And my slightly weird fixation

With zombies and sci-fi flicks

From murdering goldfish

To things that must go

With quick of wit,

You keep me in the know

You’re aware I never finished

my 25 things about me,

So what if I get sidetracked…

Squirrels!

From the posts that cause me

Loads of shame

To the posts where Sherman Alexie

Remembers my name,

Bad movies, bad singing

And a hairless cat,

who looks like the spawn of Satan

Drawing names out of a hat

You stuck with me, commiserated,

Empathized and sympathized

And when it was called for

You even chastised.

And to those who don’t comment

I know that you’re out there

Because I see you on my stat counter

And I know where you live

Are you a little annoyed

That ‘there’ and ‘live’ don’t rhyme?

Well I can’t rhyme when I’m passionate

So maybe next time

J/K, I love all readers, but

Consider it fair warning

I harbor the hope to meet someone new

Each and every morning

And so I raise a glass,

To my fellow Wal-Mart naysaysers,

To kindred book lovers and wannabe writers,

And all the white fluffy bunny slayers.

Here's to Diet Coke, and Mocha Honey's,

Bodily fluids and overuse of the word "y'all", 

Now Dash away, dash away, dash away all.

That's why I don't write poems,

I never know how to end it.

I guess I'll press "Save Draft" 

and click the button to send it.

Be my Valentine, blog reader.  You complete me. I see you. Or as the Na'vi say it:

Oe-l

nga-ti

kam‹ei›e

In Which I Share a Picture from the Past, and Y'all Get to Throw Rocks at it...

 For today's post, I did a guest post over at Jody Sparks' Blog all about an embarrassing picture from my past. Check it out, and I'll be answering comments over there.