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Archive for February 18th, 2005

I see purple cows

Feb
18

Lunch! Martinis! Gossip! Girls Gone Wild!

lunch1 (12k image)

That’s Emilie on the left, me in the middle, and Cynthia on the right.

I didn’t get lost and I wasn’t even late. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD? So Emilie had the cherries in the snow martini. Cynthia had the hyno-breeze martini. I had the purple cow martini. Okay, I had two.

The waitress remembered us. “Oh, you’re the ones who had the Fruity F*ckers last time.” We’re memorable! So we discussed the Fruity F*ckers, mostly to take advantage of the opportunity to say Fruity F*ckers as many times as we could work into five minutes.

This writer gig is a tough job, but someone’s got to do it. :hehe:

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off the hook

Feb
18

So I’m getting ready to go out for the big martini-tasting extravaganza. I can’t find my bra. How is it that I can have fifteen bras in every color, material, and pattern, and yet when I get ready to go out, I can never find even one ?

So, yes, my luscious mangoes are on the loose. This can only be the beginning of today’s exciting adventures.

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the merman lives!

Feb
18

After much starting, stalling, re-starting, re-stalling, I have finally gotten this book off the ground! Whew. I have a weird process which I described here . I’m not a planner. And that, people, is an understatement of Grand Canyon proportions. I sold this book on a one-page outline, and I forgot that for a minute. My usual process after I sell a book is to then actually start planning it. But usually I have three chapters behind me at that point. I had nothing in this case, and attempting to plan at that juncture really put my creative knickers in a twist.

As a friend advised me, I apologized to my brain for planning, I promised it I would never attempt to plan before writing chapters again, and I begged it to forgive me.

My brain pouted for several days, and has now apparently forgiven me.

In celebration of the virtuous glory of having gotten this book off the ground, I’m going out to lunch with Cynthia and Emilie. I deserve a martini. :D

Note: I will have absolutely nothing at lunch that comes with tartar sauce . In fact, I’m not sure I can ever eat tartar sauce again…..

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....



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