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December 29, 2006
Foot in Mouth Disease
I'd eat those words if I could.
Okay. It's all done. We've survived everything but New Year's Eve and my sister's birthday and honestly, those two are easy. Now all I have to do is live with the consequences of what I've done, said and eaten. Sadly, it may be what I've said that's the worst.
As many of you probably already know, I suffer terribly from foot in mouth disease. I'm better than I used to be, but things still come popping out of my mouth without thought about how they'll be received.
You know how it is. You say something that you might even think is common knowledge or completely innocuous and you see the other person's face fall and their eyes go round as saucers. Lots of times, it's someone to whom I wish no harm whatsoever. Honestly, even if I don't like them, I probably don't want to hurt them. It's just not my thing.
This year, during a conversation with Cowboy's mother, I may have kind of said that he gets pretty stressed when we come to visit. To me, this is obvious. It obviously wasn't so obvious to her. Then I started thinking about how I'd feel thirty years from now if I found out that Thing One experienced mental distress just by coming to my home. That'd hurt. A lot. As I watched her little face fall, I would have done anything to take it back.
So what would you take back if you could from this holiday season? Or what do you wish you could ram down someone's throat? The best (worst?) example will receive a fantabulous copy of “In One Year and Out the Other” , a hilarious anthology of New Year's Eve themed stories with stories from both Beth and me.
Posted by Eileen at 1:00 AM | Comments (17)
December 27, 2006
Goodbye Chocolate, Goodbye Cheese . . .
I shall miss you so . . .
It’s almost the new year, and you know what that means: it’s resolution time.
My resolution last year was to not buy any more lamps. And I think I did really, really well. I only bought three lamps. Or maybe it was four. Three or four. I think. Wait . . . do chandeliers count as lamps? Because, if so, that bumps the number up to five-ish.
Snaps for me!
This year, I’ve decided to go the more traditional route. I resolve, once and for all, to lose the fifteen pounds of baby weight still padding my rump. That’s right, I’m finally going to get rid of my Mummy Tummy. It’s time. Especially since Sam is now three, and the “I just had a baby” excuse is wearing thin. Unlike my ass.
So what’s your New Year’s resolution?
Posted by Whitney at 8:39 AM | Comments (7)
December 26, 2006
I am never eating again. Seriously.
Right after I finish that leftover pasta.
I feel as if my skin is a sausage casing and I am the fatty meat stuffed inside it. No. No, that's not right. I feel like one of those turkeys that they've injected with broth.
And not in a good way.
Somehow, this feeling did not stop me from plowing through Cowboy's mother's fabulous spaghetti and meatballs or the cracked crab or the tri-tip and spinach casserole and roasted vegetables at my sister's. Nor does it seem to be stopping me from picking at the leftover pasta that came home with us.
Nor did it stop me from pouring glass after glass of red wine. The only thing that got me to stop that was the opportunity to hold my friend J's new baby who is soooooo cute and I didn't want to be benched from babyholding by being too drunk to perform my faux-auntillary duties. Thank goodness for baby Sianna! Otherwise, I would have been hungover when my jeans almost didn't button this morning.
So here I am. The morning after Christmas, full of regrets and calories. I'm so depressed. Maybe that box of See's chocolates will cheer me up . . .
Posted by Eileen at 7:00 AM | Comments (5)
December 25, 2006
Happy holidays!!
Wishing you much Peace and Joy
Happy Holidays from all of us here at the LC and thank you for making our seasons bright.
hugs,
Alesia, Beth, Eileen, Lani, Michelle, and Whitney
Posted by Alesia at 6:51 AM | Comments (1)
December 24, 2006
To All Our Chicklets and Chickfellas!
And why my Christmas is going to be a very merry one!
It's been a hectic time over the past few days chez Cunnah (and just do not ask about the number of trips my faithful shopping trolly Dolly and I have made to the supermarket) but finally we are all here and the front door is locked. It was touch and go for a while...
Whew. Oh Patient One and Dear Mother-in-Law arrived safely back in Rotterdam airport late on Friday night amidst a huge, disruptive bought of severe fog in the UK. Seriously, I thought for a while that they wouldn't be able to fly and would finally arrive in time for the New Year.
Whew. Teenager #1's flight landed safely just before the crack of dawn this morning (surprisingly, the trip Oh Patient One and I took to Amsterdam's Schiphol airport to meet her was totally stress free - we walked the two minutes from the apartment to the tram stop and the tram arrived two minutes later, we bought tickets to Schiphol in Rotterdam Centraal Station and two minutes later were on our way, Teenager #1's plane arrived dead on time...I should always travel with Oh Patient One!).
So, it's Oh Patient One, Dear Mother-in-Law, Teenagers #1 and #2 and moi all snugly esconded in the apartment tonight, and I just wanted to say...
Dearest Chicklets and Chickfellas, wherever in the world you are, a HUGE, HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO YOU :-)
Michelle, off to eat even more pork pies, mince pies and sausage rolls...
Posted by Michelle at 1:53 PM | Comments (2)
December 23, 2006
Holiday Choppy Thoughts (tm)
Because it's really not a holiday without them...
It's been a while since I've had a good, erratic Choppy Thought post. And since all my synapses are short
circuiting so regularly that I can't hang onto a single thought long enough to actually maintain a conversation, it seems the time. So here we go...
... oh, and if you commented on Fish's blog last week, be sure to keep reading, because the winners are announced in this one (hell, I'm already getting choppy and I haven't even started yet...)
If you had asked me five years ago if I would ever consider myself a crafty type, I would have said, "Hi, I'm Lani. Have we met?" Despite this fact, this holiday season alone I have knit two socks, one hat, one scarf, and two christmas stockings for Sweetness and Light.
And I'm not done yet.Knit, knit, knit, knit.
Is it weird that I find it weird that the kids' school is celebrating Christmas outright? With no mention of Kwanzaa or dreidels? Has it been too long since I've lived in a small town?
I'm thinking about joining the PTA, only I'm a little intimidated by the whole thing. A) If you gave me a multiple choice test of the places where I really don't belong, and included a rocket scientist convention, a men's room, and the PTA, I would choose PTA without a moment's hesitation. B) They meet while Fish is working so I'd have to find a sitter, oh the hassle, and C) the Moms just freak me out. You know the Moms. I mean, yeah, lots of us are moms (lowercase) but I'm talking about the Moms. The competitive kind of chick who goes to these things solely to show off the fact that she's allowed her children to suck every last bit of life out of her WHILE baking brownies FROM SCRATCH and breastfeeding two high schoolers and one random neighborhood kid so... isn't she just the digginest Mom of all? Okay. I know I'm exaggerating and being patently unfair. I went to one Mommy and Me group when Sweetness was about a minute-and-a-half old and it freaked me out so thoroughly that I avoid Moms at all costs. But I just know that even if 90% of the PTA is totally cool, one Mom is going to freak me out. They're like sharks that way. You only have to see one to want to get the hell out of the water.
Yesterday, I ate two cookies and grew an extra ass. Fair? I think not.
I have to stop knitting and run to the store to get booze. You can do the holidays without a lot of things, but the liver damage is a must.
It's tradition.
Knit. Knit. Knit. Oh, holy God.
Okay. Fine. So it was more than two cookies. A good friend gave me a big tin full of luscious chocolate nummies and I've conducted myself shamefully. But still. It's not normal for an ass to balloon like that, is it? So quickly? I mean, when it's not an allergic reaction? I didn't think so. And yeah, the ballooning might be my imagination, but still. Yargh.
Oh, last night, Fish introduced me to "leet speak." Have any of you heard of this? I cannot myself explain it, exactly, but on Wikipedia... it's just fascinating stuff.
And not a little scary.
I heard a theory the other day that the star of Bethlehem was really a comet which they've traced back to five years after the birth of Christ. So, a) apparently, lying about your age isn't just for girls, and b) it's really only 2001. Which means I'm 30 again. I like this theory. I say, embrace the theory.
Sweetness caught a peek of the Wii in the closet last night, so Fish and I broke down and pulled out the big holiday present early. When I told Fish that we were weak, weak people, he said, "Yes, but we're happy." Then a tiny, cartoon version of him whacked the poop out of a virtual tennis ball.
Knit, knit, knit... oh, hell. I'm going to get the booze.
A happy, healthy, fun and hopeful holiday to you all from Casa de Fish! Thanks for hanging out with us here; you guys rock!
(Oh, and the winners of last week's giveaway... Jen and Theresa!!! Please e-mail me, girls, with your addresses so I can send you your books!)
Posted by Lani at 7:23 AM | Comments (8)
December 22, 2006
Contest Winner!!
Thank you so much to all who played our holiday quiz game!! We're delighted (well, not as delighted as SHE will be!) to announce the winner: Elizabeth Swaim!!!!! The enormondo prize basket will be on its way to you sometime between now and New Year's, depending on how quickly I learn to move around on my broken foot. :)
CONGRATULATIONS!!!
Posted by Alesia at 1:00 AM | Comments (6)
December 21, 2006
Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays
"What? What do you MEAN my flight has been cancelled?!?"
You guys all packed and ready to embark on the annual holiday travel marathon? Me, neither! But while I’m frantically wrapping and filling up the gas tank, I thought I’d offer up some upbeat, seasonally-appropriate ways to pass the time in your planes, trains, and automobiles.
May I humbly suggest…
For your mp3 player:
“White Christmas” (Bing Crosby) The entire album. Totally retro and fabulous.
“Blue Christmas” (the Elvis version, naturally.) Add a little Vegas to your holiday.
“Christmas in Hollis” (Run-DMC) Because no Christmas is complete without some old-school flava.
“Christmas Wrapping” (The Waitresses) These girls were doing chick lit before chick lit was cool.
“Snow Miser/Heat Miser” Because Mr. Tall says so.
“I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” (Gayla Peevey) Also because Mr. Tall says so. Bonus points for rhyming “massage” with “garage.”
For your portable DVD player:
“Home For the Holidays”, starring Holly Hunter and Robert Downey, Jr. If quality time with your extended family drives you right over the ragged edge of sanity, you will love this movie.
“The Ref.” I have haven’t seen it yet, but all the cool kids (see: Lani and Fish) recommend it, so I’m renting it tonight. Let’s all watch it over vacation and confab in January. LC movie club!
“Grey’s Anatomy” (season 2) Episodes 9 and 12 deal with Thanksgiving and Christmas debacles, plus you get all the hunky, scrub-clad men you could ever desire.
For your hungry mind:
Nearlyweds (Oh, please. Like I was gonna let this one go by.) It’s a fun, hilarious holiday read, and I promise it will make that five-hour cross-country flight next to the stranger with a virulent case of the flu more bearable.
Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Harkens back to a simpler time when kids were delighted to get oranges in their stockings. And who could resist maple syrup snow candy and Jack the brindle bulldog?
Skipping Christmas by John Grisham. If you’ve ever been tempted to opt out of the whole seasonal shebang.
For your hungry tummy:
Listen, you know and I know that the airlines are not going to feed you. And the fast food joints along the interstate are not a good base for a huge holiday dinner. So pack a snack and be the envy of your seatmates.
Larabars. 100% natural, no sugar added, vegan…wait! Where are you going? They’re delicious, I promise. They taste like pie! (Especially the cherry flavors!) Beth tested and approved.
Newman’s Own Organics Alphabet cookies. All of the chocolatey goodness of Oreos; none of the guilt.
Babybel mini cheeses. Conveniently wrapped in single servings and adorably festive, to boot.
Please add your own suggestions to make the journey more enjoyable. Happy trails and safe, healthy holidays to all!
Posted by Beth at 1:37 AM | Comments (4)
December 20, 2006
Jolly Old Elf . . . or Minion of Satan?
Ho Ho Ho!
My mom and I keep having the same conversation. It goes something like this:
Mom: Let’s go to the mall!
Me: Thanks, but I’d rather have my eyes gouged out with shish kabob skewers that go to the mall the week before Christmas.
Mom: Come on, it’ll be fun.
Me: No, it won’t. It’ll be hellacious.
Mom: Don’t you want to see how lovely the decorations are?
Me: No.
Mom: But they’re gorgeous!
Me: They’re mall decorations. Even the most spectacular mall decorations in the world are still just mall decorations.
Mom: But don’t you want to take Sam to see Santa?
And here we get to the real point of this relentless exchange.
Kids fall into two categories. There are those who gleefully look forward to seeing Santa so they can apprise him of their carefully planned Christmas lists, version 8.0, annotated.
And then there are those who view Santa as a minion of Satan.
Last year, I brought Sam to see Santa. Sam took one look at the fat guy in the red suit and fake beard, and threw himself down on the ground, curled up like a turtle and wrapped his hands protectively over his head. I had to peel him off the dirty mall floor and carry him away.
I don’t think Sam’s grown any fonder of Santa over the past year, even after Santa showed up at Sam’s school party with a sack full of gifts. The photos Sam’s teacher sent home show a wary Sam reaching for his gift, all while fixing Santa with a cold stare, as if to say, Fine, I'll take your present. But you better not try anything, buddy-boy, because I'm watching you.
So I’m not going to make him wait in line at the mall for an hour, and then bodily force him onto a strange man’s lap, while he screams with terror. Call me crazy, but I don’t think it’s worth the trauma.
My mother disagrees.
Mom: Don’t you want a picture of Sam with Santa?
Me: No, not really.
Mom: But it’s a tradition! A milestone!
Me: Yeah, um . . . no.
And then my mom sighs, martyr-like, and says fine, she thinks Sam would love it, but as I'm his mother, it’s obviously my decision, and she'll respect that.
And then the next day she calls me and we have the same conversation all over again.
Posted by Whitney at 6:00 AM | Comments (11)
December 19, 2006
Spin, Little LC Dreidels, Spin!
Happy Hanukkah!
A joyous Festival of Lights to you all! We're in the middle of the fabulous eight day extravaganza that commemorates the Jews taking back one of those early temples (the first? the second?) from either the Greeks or the Syrians or something. Honestly, I can't remember this stuff anymore. Besides, it's mainly an excuse to haul out my mother's brisket recipe, get my friend Carol to start grating potatos for her fabulous latkes and tell everyone that I'm eating jelly doughnuts because it's part of my religious expression. Truly, should a litle lard get between a girl and her spiritual self? I think not! And I have the hips to prove it!
Seriously, though, for some reason, this year I am actually enjoying the holidays. I think it's possible it might be Alesia's fault. She keeps being relentlessly holidayarrific and it appears to be contagious. Last night, after we lit the Hanukkah candles and the boys received their electric toothbrush with a modicum of enthusiasm that actually surprised me, we baked sugar cookies and frosted them, set up and decorated our pathetic artifical tree while listening to Christmas music and then played a board game. It was fabulous.
It was, in fact, so fabulous that I want to try and repeat it tonight. And tomorrow. Or, at the very least, make sure it becomes a tradition every year. And there, I think, lies the key to sustaining this joyous feeling for the next two weeks and perhaps having it return next year. I need to find some family traditions that I like.
This year, we had a repeat of what one friend refers to as Latkepalooza. We squoze 23 people into my less than 1700 sq. ft. house on Friday for brisket and latkes. I played the Adam Sandler Hanukkah song on my autoharp as the kids opened presents and I only said the prayers over the candles that don't make me cry. The first year that we did this, my mother was actually still well enough to make the brisket (and I think there were only 15 of us). I've been letting this slide and had so much fun doing it again, I can't remember why I let it go. It's definitely a keeper.
One I'd like to let slide is Cowboy's annual speeding ticket on the way to his mother's on Christmas Eve. It's expensive and, honestly, I don't get much from it.
How about you? Which family traditions do you treasure and which do you want to trash?
Posted by Eileen at 7:00 AM | Comments (11)
December 18, 2006
The Cookietacular cookie exchange
Was that an ungreased pan?
Okay, so I’ve admitted before that I’m no Betty Crockpot. But I’ve discovered a new invention that is heaven on earth for a mad stress baker like me – the Cookie Exchange. (Okay, so it’s not new, but I’ve never been to one before. Can you give me a HALLELUJAH?)
I am surrounded by cookies. Rolling in cookies. Boxing up dozens and dozens of lovely cookies to give away to my darling agent and my lovely editor and her assistant and the art department and everyone else who cared enough to make my career all bright and shiny this year.
Did I mention I baked 48 dozen cookies in the past two days? Of eight different varieties?? Yes, clearly I'm insane.
But my TOTAL HERO, the woman voted “acts most like me when I had a newborn” is the lovely Krystle (who had a baby not quite 4 months ago and still managed to look like a fashion model; all together now, deep breath and let’s not hate her because, well, you’ll see, plus there is colic which is pretty much the reason people in olden times left babies on hillsides, but I digress).
Let’s set the scene:
My very kind and gracious neighbor Mary, who invited us to her home (she works full time, has a small child and her house still looked like the centerfold for HOUSE BEAUTIFUL magazine, while mine currently looks like the “BEFORE” photo in an ad for housecleaning services, oh and she’s way younger and prettier than me, but she’s funny as hell, so all together now, deep breath and let’s not hate her) had us over this afternoon for a cookie exchange.
No kids, no husbands. That alone was enough to send me into a zone of utter happiness.
We each brought several dozen cookies (of a single type, and yes, I had a blonde moment where I thought she meant I had to bring 12 dozen cookies of 12 different kinds and she was very kind and didn’t even ask where my Valium was) and we traded. So we each went home with a dozen or so different kinds of lovely cookies. All wrapped and ribboned and with recipes attached.
You see? This is SERIOUSLY WONDERFUL. And there was WINE. And real food. Actual adult conversation, where nobody whined or called me Mommy even once. Yep, having a great time. So we were talking about kids, as moms who get together often do, and Krystle admitted she didn’t actually have time to do cookies. In fact, she wasn’t the baking type, but more the professional type who happened to be on maternity leave with her beautiful but colicky baby. So, we had this conversation:
Krystle: So I brought the slice and bake kind of cookies.
Me: Hey, it’s pretty impressive that you even managed to get dressed and turn the oven on with a colicky baby. When Science Boy had colic, I sometimes never managed to PEE until after 5 in the evening.
Krystle: [giving me a strange look] Oh, no, I didn’t bake them.
Me: ??
Krystle: I brought the dough.
Me, and everyone else: [Howling laughter]
Sure enough, my new hero Krystle bought slice and bake cookie packages and gave each person DOUGH.
But it GETS EVEN BETTER. We were supposed to bring ½ dozen for each person, individually wrapped. So, yep. You guessed it.
She brought us each ONE HALF OF A COOKIE DOUGH PACKAGE.
I love this woman, who is possibly the smartest person ON THE PLANET. She came, she sliced, she conquered. This is efficiency, baby. And she looked like a super model doing it.
My New Year’s Resolution? I want to be just like Krystle. Or Mary. Or both. But after I eat all these cookies, I’ll probably weigh more than both of them put together. Which leads me to January’s blog, about the Evil Empire that is the diet industry in America. But, hey, we can worry about that next month. For today? Happy holidays!! Eat some cookies.
hugs,
Alesia, snug in her sugar coma
Posted by Alesia at 6:00 AM | Comments (11)
December 17, 2006
Care and Feeding, Part VI, by Oh Patient One
The secret of keeping her happy as deadline approaches...
So, it’s still the middle of the morning for you guys in the US but I’ve already had time to check email (send email to brother in Australia, Teenager No #1 at college in USA, mother-in-law in UK), load photos from Teenager No #2’s concert and share on web (with brother Aus, Teenager No #1 in USA, mother-in-law in UK, anyone else I can think of...), read news online, read favorite blogs (other than LiteraryChicks!), in desperation check weather forecast, in utter desperation have lunch.
And finally spend time staring at keyboard.
Sometimes a six hour time difference is a Good Thing!
Time for a nice cup of tea...
Which leads nicely into the secret ingredient in the care and feeding of my particular exotic sub-species of author – my English Writer (for the record I am Welsh – which is a very different thing!) - the administration of tea in copious amounts throughout The Creative Process.
You have to understand that for my English Writer there are two distinct phases in the process, based roughly on the well known 80/20 rule.
Phase I occupies approximately the first eighty per cent of the time and during this phase life trundles on much as normal. Groceries are bought, meals are cooked, laundry gets done, the keyboard clicks as email correspondence is answered, blogs are read and favourite websites are searched. Business is as usual in the Cunnah household.
But there are tell-tale signs that must be watched for and, for the experienced eye, are easy to spot. As twenty per cent of the time to deadline becomes forty and then sixty a slight distractedness can be detected. At this stage the administration of tea should be increased slightly, along with the reassuring smiles, the passing on of odd and quirky facts and news stories picked up from trawling the BBC website and generally maintaining an upbeat attitude. Because the book IS going to get written. And it WILL be good.
Of that there is never any doubt (other than in my English Writer’s head).
At around sixty per cent the condition of my English Writer undergoes a perceptible change. In between the drafting of scenes and the sound of fingers actually hitting the keyboard in earnest (if only in short bursts) the air of distraction grows and approaches, but never quite reaches (yet) true frenzy. And there is a good reason for this.
At this stage we enter The Cleaning Frenzy. Pretty much every other displacement activity has been exhausted. Correspondence has been taken care of, friends have been caught up with, family has been assured of undying love and affection etc. There is nothing else for it. The apartment must be cleaned (Why? It looks perfect to me.). At this point any one of a number of activities can occur. Most common are the thorough vacuuming or wiping down of anything that doesn’t move (beware trying to watch TV or surf the Internet in one position for too long!), bed-linen and towels etc. are totally changed throughout, the drapes may come down and in extreme cases even the ironing is up to date.
It is recommended that the dosage of tea be further increased now, despite the increased caffeine intake, and that I get to know my local bartender. He will become my good friend in the coming weeks. Oh, and make sure the freezer is well stocked!
We now enter Phase II, the final and crucial stage of The Creative Process – the last twenty per cent. In this stage the book actually gets ‘written’ and the habits of my English Writer change markedly.
My English Writer spends increasing amounts of time in The Office until eventually the door to The Office is closed. Permanently. I suppose it’s a kind of nesting instinct. From now on enter at your own risk and only if bearing hot tea.
And so for a period typically of four to six weeks my English Writer wrestles with The Book, rants and raves at the characters when they don’t speak to her, agonises over word count (because at first she’s never going to fill 100,000 words, but you can rest assured that with four days to go she’s already over word-count and she hasn’t even STARTED the closing sequence), bemoans the all too common ‘saggy middle’ syndrome, constantly revises and pushes on tirelessly.
During this period, apart from entering The Office to bring tea it is recommended that communication be primarily, if not exclusively, via email from the PC in the next room. Enquiries such as, ‘Are you still alive in there?’ are usually responded to promptly. Of course if they aren’t it’s a bit of a worry, but the sound of Led Zeppelin CDs being changed regularly is reassuring.
The spouse takes on all parental duties at this time. But, as Teenager No #1 is at college and Teenager No #2 is now seventeen and is increasingly ‘Out’ this primarily entails producing checks for the one and cash for the other. Meals tend to be a one-pot job cooked by the spouse (it has to be said that there is a noticeable tendency towards spicy veggie curries – but these, lovingly served in a bowl, act as a welcome substitute for tea). Teenager No #2 is not a curry fan – but that’s why there are burgers and pizza in the freezer after all – and there’s always take-out...
My English Writer will finally emerge triumphant, if a little dishevelled approximately five minutes before deadline (as previously noted a six hour time difference can be a Good Thing), having pressed the Send button on email.
At this stage forget about the tea and go straight for the red wine (pref. Shiraz) – she deserves it!
Oh, and of course there’s all that housework that needs doing now, isn’t there? (It still looks pristine to me...)
Love you Honey!
Oh Patient One
Posted by Michelle at 10:29 AM | Comments (15)
December 16, 2006
Fish On!
Okay. You'll only get the title if you're a man. Well, a man who fishes. Well... possibly only a man who fishes in Alaska. But it's funny. No, really.
Trying to come up with a blog entry for "The Care and Feeding of Writers" ain't easy. And following four great blogs, is making me self-conscious. Thankfully ('cause I'm a lazy bastard) Lani takes pretty good care of herself. And about the only feeding I can take credit for involves picking up more Ramen Noodles (TM) or something from the drive-through on the way home. I think I'm gonna just roll with the spirit/intent of this blog topic which I'm interpreting to be giving readers a glimpse into our not-necessarilly-so-fascinating home-life.
Our homelife; pretty homelife-y. So, what would someone standing on the outside looking in find interesting?
Pervs! Lani already nixed that blog topic anyway ;-)
Well, Lani and I have our own little language, we speak in Quote-eese (TM). Long story short, Lani and I are geeks. I thought it might be fun to post one of our Dada-esque conversations and see if anyone can guess the references. I'm offering 2 signed sets of both Maybe Baby and Time Off For Good Behavior, special editions signed by both me and my lovely bride, because those are the ones Lani has enough extras of that she probably won't get mad at me for offering.
Probably. I live on the edge. And I do it all for you, Mulder.
Heh heh.
We'll choose the winners randomly from the commenters whether they're right or wrong, so don't worry about screwing up. Or cheating by highlighting the white space after each of the references; that's where the answers are. We don't worry about integrity too much in this household. We find it makes you constipated. Anyway, just commenting is really enough to get your shot at the win. As Lani always says, no one benefits from a high bar.
Let's go! An average day in Casa de Fish...
Lani: I got the gifts for the Alaska familly. You need to get the rest of the Christmas shopping done. I'm tired of always having to take care of everything.
Fish: I'm just tired. I didn't get to bed until 2 a.m. last night. I'll get it taken care of this afternoon.
Lani: The day you see anything through to the end...
What? You haven't seen The Ref? Seriously? It's Christmas. What's wrong with you people? Anyway; here's the quote:
Lloyd: Caroline, the day you see anything through to the end, I'll stick my own dick in my ear.
It's much funnier in context. And it's like, six bucks at Walmart. It's a holiday family classic. Those are tax-deductible, right?
Fish: Why don't you eat something... ?
Yeah, again, The Ref.
Lloyd: Caroline, why don't you eat something.
Caroline: Lloyd, why don't you eat... me.
Yeah, when Lani said we don't have any class, she wasn't kidding.
Fish: Look, I just finished a hell-a-cious work-week, got to bed late and got up to take care of the girls so you could write. And I only had a bagel with cream-cheese for breakfast, and it wasn't even real cream-cheese, it was light cream-cheese, I do it all for you Mulder...
Quote from The X-files episode "Bad Blood" (best episode, eva') and Gillian Anderson is HOT.
Lani: You know what I'm going to get you for Christmas, a big wooden cross...
Yeah, that's The Ref again. What? It's Christmas.
Lloyd: You know what I'm going to get you next Christmas, Mom? A big wooden cross, so that every time you feel unappreciated you can crawl on up and nail yourself to it.
I'm sure now you can see why this movie is such a hit in our household. If you can't, and you think we're twisted, sad people... well, then you're right. So everyone wins!
Fish: All right! I'll get it done!
Lani: Damn right you will. I'm don't want to be the one who always has to do everything around here.
Fish: And I don't want to be this good-looking and athletic. We all have crosses to bear.
Quote from Buffy The Vampire Slayer, episode "Touched":
Buffy: I don't want to be the one.
Spike: I don't want to be this good-looking and athletic. We all have crosses to bear.
Lani really loves Spike. I think he's highly overrated. Discuss amongst yourselves.
Poncy British poofda.
Fish: Alright, I'm off to do some shopping, maybe when I get back you'll start taking me seriously.
Lani: The days of me not taking you seriously are definitely coming to a middle.
That's direct from the mouth of Cap'n Tightpants himself, Malcolm Reynolds, from the Firefly episode "Our Mrs. Reynolds." Speaking of which, you should go out and buy the entire DVD box set of Firefly, too. I don't know if Wal-mart has that, though. What, do I have to do all your work for you? Just get it. You'll thank me later.
Fish: Oh, and if you're lucky, when I get back I'll do that thing with my mouth that girls like... Oh! I didn't mean the bad thing with my mouth.
Quote from Buffy episode "Faith Hope and Trick":
Willow: Do that thing with your mouth that boys like... Oh! I didn't mean the bad thing with your mouth.
Heh heh. Willow's hot.
This is pretty close to a verbatim discussion at our house. Hope you could make sense of it. And if you got even half of the references, be sure to drop in the next time you're in town! You're our kind of people.
That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, Bingo.
Okay. If you get that one on your own, Lani's totally coming over to your house and cooking you dinner. She oughta do it for someone, right?
I'm off to get my ass soundly kicked...
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a not-cranky wife! Someone should have one...
Ow.
Posted by Lani at 10:12 AM | Comments (27)
December 15, 2006
TIME IS RUNNING OUT!!!!!!
For your chance to win our ENORMONDO HOLIDAY BASKET GIVEAWAY!!! Be sure to send your entry to giveaway@literarychicks.com with your quiz answers for a chance to win this amazing basket worth well over $200 of goodies and autographed books!!
And stay tuned for the rest of the LC spouse's week!!! We love all those comments!!
Posted by Alesia at 7:49 AM | Comments (0)
December 13, 2006
Care and Feeding, Part IV, by Mr. Tall
So we’re not creative with our blog titles. We’re not writers, you know.
All the literary chicks have an icon—this is mine. Take a good look at what I WON’T be getting for Christmas.
The care and feeding of a writer is quite an undertaking, one that should not be entered into lightly. I can’t say that I came in uninformed. As the stepson of a writer, I knew what I was getting into…
Light: My writer has about the same need for light as your average houseplant. Edison’s gasless will not do. It must be sunlight. Especially in her office. It’s as if her ability to write is solar-powered. I feel it is no coincidence that we ended up in Arizona. (Side note: It is important to note that this woman will not venture into direct sunlight without two layers of clothing and some sunscreen. The sunlight must be on her terms.)
H20: Keeping my writer hydrated is extremely important. When Beth requests a refill, I accomplish the task with speed matched only by the most efficient bartender. Remember: a dehydrated writer is a cranky writer.
Shoulder and foot rubs: I get the shoulder rubs, I do, especially since the writing process has several distinct stages.
1. Sitting at the computer getting ready to write. (Sifting through email and various celebrity gossip sites.)
2. Really getting ready to write. (Perusing Bluefly.com, Smartbargains.com, and ExtremelyExpensiveClothesAndShoesForSlightlyLess.com)
3. Really, really getting ready to write. (Calling other writers to commiserate and finding some solace in the fact they haven’t gotten anything written yet either)
4. Breaking for lunch.
I can understand how the shoulders get tense. But the feet are still a mystery to me.
(Beth’s rebuttal: Okay, first of all, it’s called “brainstorming”, and second of all, the foot rub thing is all about mystical pressure points that connect directly to the creativity center of the brain. Hmph.)
Support: This duty I share with the dogs (great listeners and ever-present company), family and friends (very impressed with the fact that anyone is a writer but are puzzled by the lack of heavy drinking, chain smoking and movie deal), and other writers (the only ones who truly understand). But mostly it’s me. I find this the easiest of all of my responsibilities as the husband of a writer. I think its because I am genuinely floored by my wife’s tenacity, vision, work ethic and guts. I could never do what she does.
Posted by Beth at 11:49 PM | Comments (8)
Care and Feeding, Part III
By George, the Highly Effective Husband of Whitney
I’m a great starter of things, but not so great on the follow-through. In our first house, I had at one point something like nine unfinished renovation projects going. When this caused Whitney to develop a twitch in her left eyebrow area, I did the sensible thing and buckled down and let Whitney hire someone to finish the work.
There’s a story Whitney likes to tell about me which, she says, speaks volumes about this aspect of my personality. I had decided one day to become a Highly Effective Person, and so went out and bought the famous book on the subject, brought it home, read it with great intensity and enthusiasm. A couple of hours later, I closed the book with a satisfied thump.
“So, you’ve figured it all out?” she asks.
“I have,” I say. “Wanna hear?”
“Sure!”
So I told her: “See, there are these three habits you have to develop …” And I ran down the list. (They’re a little touchy-feely, I see that now, but at the time, it was pretty helpful.)
“What happened to the other four habits?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“It says right here: The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. Seven. You've only mentioned three.”
“Oh,” I say, “the first three are the only ones that count. The other four are crap.”
She laughs a lot when she tells this little anecdote.
What a lot of people don’t get when they talk to Whitney about her job as a writer is that she’s about as far away from me on the Unfinished Project-Starting Spectrum as you can get. Writing takes a rare amount of determination, which she not only has, but has in spades. She’s a hard core Type A personality wrapped in a groovy Type B shell.
At the moment, she’s in the phase of the life-cycle of book-writing that I call The Badlands. One book has been sent off to her editor, but it will soon come back from the publishing house for edits. But another book has already been started. She will have to stop working on the current project in order to go back to working on the old project. Gears will have to be shifted. Not one but two unfinished books will be on her desk. This is bad.
So, she’s distressed.
“Why don’t you try yoga?” I offer. “You’ve always talked about wanting to give it a try, and there’s a little studio over by the park just a mile from here.”
“Good idea,” she says, and goes online to find the phone number. It turns out they have a website, too, complete with a class schedule.
“Oh, this will never work,” she says, exasperated.
“Why?” I ask.
“Look how long the classes are. They’re all an hour and a half long!”
“So?”
“That’s an awfully long time to just sit around, you know, stretching and stuff,” she says. “Don’t they have anything shorter?”
“I see. You want your meditative, deep-breathing, quiet moment of the soul to be more …”
“Efficient, yes. Is that too much to ask?”
That’s one of the hidden keys to the care and feeding of writers, at least the one in my house. She may do her job in solitude, wearing sweatpants, and occasionally with a glass of wine within reach, but in her own quiet way, she’s as determined and unwavering as any fast-talking CEO with a Blackberry in one hand and a cell phone in the other.
Posted by Whitney at 9:00 AM | Comments (9)
December 12, 2006
Care and Feeding, Part II
Show me a sign!
So here is it, time for me (Cowboy) to blog. And yes, that first sentence is an attempt to procrastinate. That’s something that I seem to be rather good at. Some of the writers that I have known also seem to have the same issue, including Scooter – er, Eileen. Proving the old adage that “those who can’t do, teach”, I occasionally tell her to apply butt to chair. Sometimes I’m direct – “Eileen, get your butt in front of your computer!” Sometimes I adopt a subtler strategy. “Dear, that story isn’t going to write itself” or “Oh look, a keyboard with no fingers touching it!”
But really, the care and feeding of the writer in the family comes down to one simple rule: do what she says. Always. See? Simple. Ok, you can all stop snickering now. That means you, honey. But really now, caring for a writer is no different than caring for any other neurotic, self-flagellating, focused, scattered, bi-polar person in your life. Sometimes you have to act supportive and agree that the stupid reviewer is a moron, other times you duck behind the counter and try to get out of the room with all your parts attached. The real trick is to know when to do which – actually, to predict when the storm is coming.
Now, I’m not saying that I’m an expert or anything, I’ve only been doing this for the last 3 years, 4 months, 13 days, 9 hours and 26 minutes. Give or take. But there are signs to watch for.
1) The sound of her mail program (the jet plane taking off is what Scooter’s Mac does). This sometimes indicates that she has sent her manuscript to her editor (since she’s lucky enough to do it that way). This act often results in rants about the huge pile of drivel that she just sent to her editor, how she’s just a hack, and on and on. This is where I apply my best “no, you’re a great writer” pep talk. This is best supported by hugs and bringing up her web page where you have placed her positive reviews. So, jet plane = hugs and parroting of good reviews.
2) “What the f***?” This often heralds the arrival of another impenetrable royalty statement. Most times it can be safely ignored, cause nobody knows how to read those damned things. Basically, they say “we don’t owe you any money on that book”. For this, I just stare at the paper and say “What the f***?” It seems to work.
3) “Thump thump thump”. That’s the sound of a head hitting the desk repeatedly. It usually indicates some variant or writer’s block. Or a kid getting an F in PE. Either way, I walk slowly and carefully over and give a hug. Safest if you do it from behind her chair, I’ve found.
4) Things stop happening right. Dinner either burns or doesn’t get started. She turns left instead of right. She sits in her chair and stares right at me, but doesn’t see anything I do. Or she freezes, one foot poised to get in the car – the only time I’ve ever seen her stand on one leg. This usually indicates that the writing is going well. The most important thing in this state (which, of course, is the most common state) is to feed and bathe the children, do the grocery shopping, make funny faces at her and giggle, and make sure that I help her into the car. Because there’s no way she can stand on one leg for very long.
So there you have it. Hugs, good reviews, “what the f***”, safe hugs, basic child care, and actual physical support. Care and feeding in a nutshell.
Posted by Eileen at 7:00 AM | Comments (19)
December 11, 2006
The Care and Feeding of Writers Week
When our Other Halves get revenge, er, a chance to speak up
We're launching a special week here at the LC, when our guys get a chance to let loose and tell you what it's really like living with a writer. (Beware, it might get ugly!) My own Navy Guy is launching the week with:
The Care and Feeding of (My) Author
Hello all, Navy Guy here. My lovely wife asked me to write a blog on the “Care and Feeding of Authors” for her web site. I thought this was particularly ambitious of her, given that my writing is almost entirely restricted to generating various Navy memoranda, reports, and instructions. Not what you might call inspiring in any setting. Also, I’m not particularly funny. This fact has been related to me on several occasions, by our children (in the direct manner that most children have) accompanied by the usual eye-rolling, and deep sighs of pity for my lameness. The dogs still find me mildly entertaining, although it is usually dependent on the presence of a squeaky toy, or some other sort of treat. Unfortunately for you, I have no grown-up squeaky toys or treats, so toss back those pre-emptive Tylenol tablets, crack open your favorite beverage (something alcoholic may help) and here we go!
The Christmas season is one of the most wonderful, and potentially lethal, times of year. Choosing the right gift for your writer is, need I say it, very important. The kids are easy. You follow a simple checklist: Seen on TV? Check. Makes noise, lights, puddles, or other debris? Check. Requires AA, C, D, and 9-volt batteries (not included of course) and stock in the Duracell company? Check.
It’s easy!
Not so the Writer.
To be fair, I am quite possibly the worst gift buyer ever. I provide the following transcript of a real conversation which occurred in our kitchen the other day as proof:
Navy Guy (NG): “Hey sweety, you know how you were saying that your computer is acting too slow, and how that’s been aggravating you so much?”
Alesia: “Mmm Hmm” (Distractedly working on something else)
NG: “Well, I was thinking that for one of your Christmas presents, I would get you a
memory upgrade for your computer so that it would work faster!”
Alesia: “…………” (Staring at NG)
NG: Sweet Jesus! I’ve stepped on a landmine!
Alesia: “…………..” (Still staring)
NG: Stay calm, you might lose a foot, maybe the whole leg, but we can survive this! STAY CALM MAN!!
Alesia: “ Umm, No.”
NG: “Right, right! What was I thinking?! That would be a totally lame and inappropriate gift!”
Children: (Shaking their heads in disbelief and resignation.) We can’t believe we are related to him. We never saw anything about computer memory on TV. I’ll bet it doesn’t even have batteries. Poor daddy.
Dogs: I wonder if there is bacon with that.
So, you see, I am already working at a distinct (perhaps mental) disadvantage. There are many hazards on the way to finding the right gift for your romance writer. We have already seen the “Lame Electronic Gift” (there is a caveat in this category for the “impossibly-small-yet-totally-cool-gadget” gift such as the newest micro-mini MP3 player, cel phone, or digital camera) but there are other, even deadlier land mines out there. Anything that is eminently practical is not what we are looking for: Towel sets (boom!), Kitchen appliances (Boom!), Exercise equipment (KA-BOOM!!) all should be avoided.
Well then, if you are like me, you are asking yourself “Holy Mackerel! What’s left?” Well, you can’t just ask:
NG: “Hey honey, what would you like for Christmas this year?”
Alesia: “I would think that after ten and a half years of marriage and two children you would know by now!”
NG: “Well of course I do sweety! I was just checking to make sure I didn’t forget anything!” Curses! Foiled again!
This is when you must tap into the depths of the writer’s mindset. As the spouse of a writer, you are her soul-mate; the muscle-bound, yet strangely free of body hair man on the white horse on the front of those books, who swept her off her feet all those years ago. And, as her soul-mate, you just intuitively and psychically know what it is she wants for Christmas. Sadly, in my case, this psychic connection has been quite effectively filtered out by brain damage caused by an infatuation with electronics, an Electrical Engineering degree, and 20 years of military life. But all is not lost. There are a few sure-fire gifts that can’t go wrong:
Automobiles. More specifically red convertibles. Always a winner.
Adornments. Designer jewelry, designer clothes, designer shoes, expensive perfumes. All very effective.
Spa Treatments. A big winner for me last year, underappreciated writer-moms love to be pampered.
Any of these things, either individually, or in combination, are very good ideas.
The best thing of all, after a long, arduous, shopping season, is that no matter how lame the gifts may be, she will still love you. After all, you are soul-mates!
Merry Christmas!
Judd aka Navy Guy
Posted by Alesia at 6:00 AM | Comments (24)
December 10, 2006
Travel Troubles. Again!
And why I am convinced that I should never travel without Oh Patient One…
So, based on this story and this story, you would think that by now I would just somehow accept that The Travel Gods have it in for me, wouldn't you? I should just sigh and say, "Okay, Travel Gods, I do not know why I have offended you but I take it as said that you will mess up my journey. Somehow..."
I arrived back home in Rotterdam earlier this week after spending time with family in England. And let me just say that it is a bloody miracle that I actually made it back here!
Here's what happened...
Outward bound: Oh Patient One and I got up on time (5am), got a cab to Rotterdam airport, got the plane to London Stansted airport (which isn't, in fact, in London at all, but is miles away in the depths of Essex), picked up the hire car. Made it to Sheffield. Had a lovely time with Super Mum and Lovely Family. All was well. Apart from driving a manual transmission car up hills with a gradient like this /. But that's entirely another story for another day...
Anyway. Midtrip bound: Made it to Lovely Sister's house in London, had a lovely time with Lovely Sister (apart from 1 hour traffic jam on M11 due to roadworks, but par for the course). Made it to Lovely Mother-in-Law's house in Chelmsford.
And now for The Return Journey, during which Michelle travels alone...
Oh Patient One (on the day before I am travelling back to Rotterdam - he is staying one more day for various reasons, mainly to sort out Lovely Mother-in-Law's computer with Internet accessibility - also another story for another day): "So, here's the plan for tomorrow night. I will drive you to Stansted airport, drop you off, then drop off the hire car and take the bus back to Mum's house."
Me (after thinking about it for a couple of seconds): "Um, if we're dropping off the hire car at the same time as we're dropping me off at the airport, remind me why you need to drive me there?"
Minutes of no conversation as Oh Patient One and I fall on the floor laughing while we digest the facts that (a) I can drive, in fact I have driven for most of the trip, (b) I have been on many trips alone which required me getting from point a to b (via, it has to be said, points x, y and z, but I get there in the end) and (c) the total lack of reason why he should, in fact, be required to drive me to the airport.
When we have picked ourselves up off the floor after laughing about it...
Oh Patient One: "Okay, but you should definitely take the A130 to the airport. It's a much better route than taking the A12, M25 then M11. Much less traffic, too. It only takes about thirty minutes."
Me: "But I like going the regular route A12, M25, M11 because I kind of KNOW that route."
Oh Patient One: "Well, I like that A12, M25, M11 route too, but last time I traveled to the airport I went via the A130 and it was just so much faster and there was so much less traffic. It's much easier, I promise!"
Me: "Oh, well if you're sure? And it's well signposted, right?"
Oh Patient One: "Absolutely. You can't go wrong. By the way, do you have Euros on you for the cab back from Rotterdam airport to the apartment?"
Me: "I'll get Euros from the ATM machine in Rotterdam airport, no problem. Now, you're absolutely, completely, totally sure that the A130 is the route for me?"
Oh Patient One: "Yes, it's a MUCH easier route. Get your coat, let's drive into Chelmsford city center and I'll show you the circle where the first directional sign is posted. Piece of cake...Now, you're sure you don't need to get Euros before you leave the country?"
The next evening...
Off I set. I reach the circle in central Chelmsford (it has to be said that the UK has a LOT of big circles. Many more circles than, you know, junctions with lights). All is good because I see the sign, "A130 - Stansted Airport" with that little picture of a plane on it. So far so good.
A little while later I reach the next huge circle (with about five billion exits) and there is NO sign for Stansted or the A130. NO little airplane avatar...I know this because I drive around said bloody circle several (okay, four) times to check myself on this. NO sign. Whatsoever. It is dark, it is rainy, I am in unfamiliar territory. The air in the car turns blue as I curse like a madwoman...
An hour later, after traversing a gazillion huge circles with very unfamiliar signs, I finally find a sign for the A12 and more familiar territory. I am at this point so close to Lovely Mother-in-Law's house (again) that I could pop in for a reviving cup of tea with her and Oh Patient One, but I am worried about getting lost again...
So, of course, I miss the turning from the A12 to the M25 (on yet another huge circle) and end up in North London due to no U turns being available for five billion miles. The air in the car turns blue again on account of much cursing!
Three hours after I leave Lovely Mother-in-Law's house I finally make it to Stansted airport, and I drop off the hire car no problemo, and I get my flight no problemo, and when I arrive back in Rotterdam airport and go to the ATM machine to get Euros for the Cab Home it is the Final Straw because IT IS OUT OF ORDER! More air turning blue...
Luckily I have strippenkart on me. I get the bus back to Rotterdam Centraal Station where, of course, I JUST MISS THE TRAM by a few seconds after running a million, gazillion yards with my luggage. At this time of night, i.e., nearly midnight, the trams are not very frequent. It is raining, it is cold and miserable, I am cold and miserable, but fortunately the ATM machine in Rotterdam Centraal is In Order. So I get some cash and get a cab home...
Let's just say that many reviving cups of tea were required for essential re-establishment of steady nerves. And I have only one question, dear chicklets. Is it just me, or what?
Posted by Michelle at 4:10 PM | Comments (7)
December 9, 2006
Yeah. I know. It's not Thursday.
But I'll try anything thirteen times.
So, in my random wanderings around the blogosphere this week, I discovered something of which I was not previously aware. (Yikes. See how hard some people will work not to end a sentence in a preposition? Sad, is it not?)
The Thursday Thirteen.
It seems very simple. On Thursday, bloggers meme thirteen things.
Simple, and yet, I still don't get it. It's probably that same "unable to grasp the obvious" gene that makes it impossible for me to successfully cook a damn turkey.
But, anyway, I ran across the Thursday Thirteen, and I don't get it. I mean, is it really just a collection of blogs where every Thursday, someone picks a list of thirteen random things to list? The Thursday Thirteen people don't seem to give specific lists. So... basically... it's just thirteen things on Thursday, and the bloggers still have to figure out for themselves what the thirteen things are. Meaning, the bloggers still have to do some work.
It's positively un-American.
But, bright side, they let you post your Thursday Thirteen as late at Saturday. So I'm in!
Thirteen Things That I Believed at the age of Thirteen (and What I Think Now):
1. French kissing is gross! (Until you've done it.)
2. Michael Jackson is awesome! (Michael Jackson skeeves me beyond the telling of it.)
3. There's no sentence that can't be made better with an exclamation mark! (Or two!!)
4. I wish a cute boy would like me. (Those cute boys better stay the hell away from my daughters.)
5. Favorite lunch: Roast beef sandwich and Cool Ranch Doritos. (Some things never change. Only now, when I have that, my doctor gives me shit about my cholesterol.)
6. Snow day! Yay! (Snow day! Crap!)
7. My mom is so mean! (My mom should have smacked me more.)
8. My best friend and I will marry brothers and live next door to each other forever and then our babies will get married! (Oh. Hell. How is Sara? I haven't thought about her in forever. I need to call her. What's her last name now?)
9. I want to marry David Addison! (I want to sleep with David Addison.)
10. I'm gonna party like it's 1999. (1999. The whole year, I was pregnant or breastfeeding. Not so much as a single glass of wine. I should sue Prince for selling me that bill of goods.)
11. Orange is the ugliest color ever. (If I could paint my livingroom orange without Fish pitching a fit, I'd totally do it. I'd regret it almost immediately, but I'd do it.)
12. I wanna stay up and watch Saturday Night Live!! (If it's that good, I'll catch it on YouTube at a decent hour.)
13. Thirty is so old! (Tell me that after you've seen the ugly side of thirty-five. Brat.)
Posted by Lani at 8:45 AM | Comments (5)
December 6, 2006
Season’s Scandals
Brace yourself: shocking confessions ahead!
Okay, here we go. My name is Beth, I turned 30 this year…and I have never seen “It’s A Wonderful Life.” Not once. Even by accident.
I’ve managed to glean the basic plot over the years, thanks to various SNL spoofs and the very highbrow and cutting-edge Beavis and Butthead Christmas special, “It’s a Miserable Life.” But I somehow never got around to viewing the original, perhaps because I am immature and enjoy shocking Mr. Tall afresh with this news every December and hearing his subsequent rant on how I’m only hurting myself by being a cultural philistine and P.S., I’m also un-American and probably a flag-burning pinko to boot.
Oh, and I’ve also never seen “White Christmas” or “Miracle on 34th Street” (although I did read the actual book for that one, so I get partial credit.)
But I have my own traditions.
I adore the original, cartoon version of “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” and my favorite holiday movie of all time is “Better Off Dead.” My brother and I watch it every year without fail. (In fact, last year the dogs gave me the DVD of “Better Off Dead” for Christmas. Aren’t they thoughtful?) Have you guys seen “Better Off Dead”? It’s a classic, you know. “Two dollars…cash!” Ring any bells? No? How about: “Do you have any idea what the street value of this mountain is?” “And to drink: Peru!”
Okay, maybe I’m the only one who considers “Better Off Dead” a hilarious holiday classic. But John Cusack is so cute! (Although I will admit that it may be one of those movies that you have to be exposed to during a critical point in adolescence—once you’re an adult, the comic genius gets lost in translation…or so says Mr. Tall. But then again, he’s the one who touted “The Sure Thing” as a cinematic masterpiece, and I have no idea what in the Sam Hill he’s talking about.)
So it’s time to expand my horizons. Recommend some good holiday movies to watch. Like “Olive the Other Reindeer”…was that any good? Just don’t say “It’s A Wonderful Life”, because, after 30 years, I have to keep the streak alive.
Posted by Beth at 11:23 PM | Comments (18)
The Grinch and Me
Otherwise known as Holiday Traditions I Just Don’t Get
So last night, I put up the Christmas Tree, while George and Sam lay on the sofa coughing, and wheezing, and generally feeling crappy. George did manage to stay vertical long enough to wrestle with the lights on the tree (query: why is my supposedly pre-lit faux tree only lighting up halfway?). He even managed a few feeble curses, but it was obvious his heart wasn’t in it.
I like decorating the tree on my own, though. It allows me to be a control freak about the placement of the ornaments. Otherwise, I have to smile through clenched teeth when all of the silver snowflakes end up grouped together in a clump, and then sneak in and fix it when no one is looking. So trimming the tree as a family? Very Normal Rockwell, I know, but highly overrated.
Here are some other holiday traditions I don’t get:
1. Caroling. Come on. It’s just embarrassing, both for you to sing in public, and for me to have to stand there at my door pretending to enjoy it. Please spare us both.
2. Egg Nog. Now normally I’m all for anything involving a healthy dollop of rum, but when it comes down to it, you’re really just drinking egg-laced cream. And not in a good way.
3. Decorations. Sure, some decorations are fun and festive. But it’s a short, slippery slope straight towards Tackyville. Twinkle lights? Fine. Giant plastic Santas and Snowmen cavorting on your roof? Never a good idea.
So tell me, my chicklets . . . what holiday rituals do you find overrated?
Posted by Whitney at 1:45 PM | Comments (14)
December 5, 2006
I got nothin’
Zilch. Nada. Zippo. Bupkis. A big giant goose egg.
I’m wracking my brain – or what appears to be left of it – and I can’t come up with anything decent to blog about. I considered blogging about going holiday shopping today, but my adventures in the outlet malls of Vacaville are not usually all that exciting. I considered blogging about painting my living room this week, but watching paint dry ain’t all that dramatic either.
Welcome to mi vida boring.
I cannot find anything in my day to mine for wry observation, witty commentary or even self-righteous indignation. I can find no metaphors in removing switchplates and taping off the baseboards. There appears to be no deep meaning to my sister coming over to raid my closet or some subtle thread of subtext in driving carpool.
So I open this up to you, chicklets. Anybody got something on their chest they wanna sound off about? Here's your chance! Go for it!
Oh, and by the way, the one exciting thing going on is the fantabulous ginormous excellariffic gift basket you can win here at the L.C. Click the adorable chinese take-out box to sign up!
Posted by Eileen at 7:00 AM | Comments (12)
December 4, 2006
Public service 'nouncements
Exciting news!
It's THAT kind of day, busy busy busy, swimming lessons started for the kids, holiday prep, book stuff, busy busy busy, but I wanted to take a moment to update you on two very important events:
1. Our ENORMONDO HOLIDAY BASKET GIVEAWAY!!! Be sure to send your entry to giveaway@literarychicks.com with your quiz answers for a chance to win this amazing basket worth well over $200 of goodies and autographed books!!
2. Stay tuned for the first ever LC guy week!! Starting the 11th, the men in our lives will tell you the real scoop about the care and feeding of writers. Promises to be entertaining!
That's all, sorry, must wash chlorine off of various child-size surfaces.
hugs,
Alesia
Posted by Alesia at 6:58 PM | Comments (0)
December 2, 2006
Getting Ranty With It
I don't have a whole lot of hot buttons, but this is what happens when one gets hit.
Okay. We have certain "loose" rules here at the LC. One, we try to be funny and amusing and tell our little stories in the generally light-hearted manner to which our readers have become accustomed in our books. We're here to entertain, to have a good time, to give y'all a break from the regular sturm and drang of everyday life.
Well, those rules are loose for a reason, because sometimes, something just deserves a good, old-fashioned, vein-popping rant. So click below to jump to the full, unedited text of a letter I sent to the New York Times yesterday. A letter they won't be publishing because the letters they publish need to be 150 words or less and I am physically incapable of making any point in under 150 words. Seriously. You should see my checks. Besides, it's my personal conviction that if it's not verbal diarrhea, it ain't a rant, and this, Chicklets?
Is a rant.
12-01-06
Dear Editor,
I'm not a typical letter writer/ranter, but I have just finished listening to the podcast of today's episode of The Ethicist, and I am so thoroughly appalled that I can't seem to stop myself.
In his podcast released on December 1st, 2006, your "ethicist", Randy Cohen, suggests that a technician who found child pornography on his boss's computer is ethically required to stay silent. Mr. Cohen states that reporting the crime isn't worth the trouble because the boss may have legal pictures of adults who look like children, might not have downloaded the pornography himself, and could be convicted of a crime if the technician told.
Wow. Just wow.
First of all, if the boss's porn is legal (meaning, adult) let me on behalf of all workers everywhere release a big, "Blech." Legal, adult porn at home is nobody else's business; legal, adult porn at work means that someone is seriously overpaid.
Second, if the man is innocent by the letter of the law, then that can be proven. If someone else downloaded the material - doubtful, but I'll suspend my disbelief if you will - there will be a time and date stamp on the files, and if he wasn't in his office at that time, then hey, dig that alibi.
Third, Mr. Cohen makes the argument that this boss could go to jail for a long time if convicted. And, if convicted, I fail to see how that's a bad thing. Perhaps Mr. Cohen would like to elaborate on why it's better - nay, more ethical even - to let a guilty (conviction presumes guilt) pedophile roam the streets than spend time in jail? I'm not talking about a witch-hunt here - I'm talking about a man who was proven guilty in a court of law. I know our legal system isn't perfect, but I was under the impression that the guilty should go to prison. Apparently, your "ethicist" would disagree when it comes to pedophiles. Color me fascinated.
Last, the very idea that this "ethicist" would place the boss's potential embarrassment above the welfare of sexually exploited children is so far beyond the pale that I literally can't believe what I'm hearing. I am partially hoping that I've had some sort of auditory psychotic break, and imagined the whole thing. If I have, please direct me to the transcript so I can see that your ethicist actually has... you know... ethics. Can he seriously be suggesting that, on the off chance this guy *might* be innocent, this worker is ethically required to *ignore* this reprehensible and dangerous behavior?
That technician not only should report the boss, he has a moral obligation to do so. If the boss is innocent, then let him prove it. If he's not, then it's likely that he's exploiting other opportunities to be around children, and this technician is allowing those children to be at risk by not saying anything. What kind of "ethicist" would possibly put damage to someone's reputation above the welfare of children? I cannot believe Mr. Cohen said it, and even more, I can't believe the New York Times let him.
Sincerely,
Lani Diane Rich
(for more responses to this column, click here)
Posted by Lani at 6:00 AM | Comments (6)
December 1, 2006
Holy LC giveaway basket!!!!
Wow, is it ever getting exciting around here!! Happy first day of December and welcome to our fabulous holiday giveaway news!! THIS IS OUR WONDERFUL PRIZE BASKET, worth more than TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS!!!! That one of you lucky Chicklets will win!!
But you’re going to need to work a little bit for it . . . mwah ha ha! More about that later!
For even more excitement, stay tuned for the 11th and the beginning of the LC spouse/S.O. week! Finally, the poor guys will have their chance to dish. Although they won’t call it dishing. At my house we had a conversation about gifts just today that might be used in Navy Guy’s blog . . .
For now, here are the lucky winners of last month’s giveaway:
Sanjay Srinivas from Texas
Jacqueline Wolven from Arkansas
April Boland from Texas
Sophie Kotlove from Maryland
Karen Toner from Maryland
Hmmm. Guess people in Texas and Maryland and Arkansas have FAB taste in blogs!!
DRUMROLL PLEASE!! To make your holidays truly bright and shiny, put on your thinking caps and answer our first-annual holiday giveaway quiz for the chance to win this beautiful basket, filled with trinkets and holiday goodies, and a humongous pile of autographed books from all six LC authors.
To answer, you’re going to have to know a bit about our books. Or at least be familiar with our individual websites. HINT: A little productive website snooping will find you all the answers.
Email your answers to giveaway@literarychicks.com and we’ll pick winners on the 20th so we can get this basket in the mail!!
HERE GOES – AND I’M EVEN GIVING YOU HINTS!:
1. - Where did Stella's husband Richard propose?
(HINT: Beth's site!)
2. In my novel, TRUE LOVE (AND OTHER LIES), where does Claire meet Jack?
(HINT: See Whitney's site!)
3. "On what flavor jolly rancher did Chloe's great
aunt choke?"
(HINT: See Eileen's site!!)
4. In "Confessions of a Serial Dater" what does my heroine Rosie think is
so fabulous about turtles? The answer can be found here on my website
(HINT: See Michelle's site!!)
5. In my fabulous book video for BLONDES HAVE MORE FELONS, you’ll learn the holiday-themed first name of the star of the mystery series. What is it?
(HINT: See Alesia's site!)
6. The character Ian in EX AND THE SINGLE GIRL was based on which hunky British actor?
(HINT: See Lani's website!)
GOOD LUCK and happy holidays!!
Hugs,
Alesia, Michelle, Beth, Eileen, Lani, and Whitney
Posted by Alesia at 6:08 PM | Comments (3)
