Okay--if I haven't mentioned it before, I'll say it again--I've got the best peanut gallery in all of explored space... thanks guys--for one thing, I don't feel so bad about screeching like a demented owl when I got presented with the heating bill, and for another, it's always nice to hear that your children are really as cute as you think they are.
So I'm going to ignore our impending financial ruin for a while, and the crappy kitchen as well, because I've got the proofs for BOUND and I find that today's nervous breakdown is going to be focussed in that general direction.
I do this every time--I send it out, absolutely sure that there's not a blessed thing I could do to make it better, and get it back and wonder that I had the freakin' balls to subject the world to that unmitigated pile of crap. The fact that it's the same damn manuscript doesn't mean a damn thing. This year, I managed to brainwash I mean shanghai I mean beg the editor of the yearbook to read through and do some of my editing for me. I know I should read it myself, and I plan to--but I'm going to sooooooooorushed, that I don't trust my own editing job to be as good as it should. Oh--have I mentioned that it's about 475 pages, now that it's formatted. In a way I'm a little disappointed--I mean, the manuscript was over 720 pages...I was hoping the novel would break 500... oh, well, I guess I'm not as overwritten as I thought. (Is this a good thing? Am I concise? Is it a bad thing? Am I underdetailed? Am I trying for profound and ending up the suck princess or porndom? Holy Goddess, let me not be publicly stupid any more than humanly possible!!! Oh, wait... I'm a writer... ignore that last bit...there's no way out of it...)
So, I started a special project for Lady In Red, who (sorry to out you, darlin') is due in a shockingly short time, and I'm not telling her what it is, but it's turning out wonderfully. I will tell you that it's done in the Debbie Bliss Cashmerino DK and bells can tell you that this stuff is like sin in a skein... the fabulosity of the finished product is enough to stomp on my 'handwashables for infants' guilt. I mean, Arwyn wore her little socks for six months and I didn't really need to do more than rinse them... unless the little feet go kicking through the used breast-milk, they really don't do a lot of dirt damage to the knitwear, right? Anyway, it's gorgeous and I promise pictures, but I will confess that it's crochet, because right now I move from one to the other depending on the project--this project was crochet, and so I joined the dark side, that's all.
But other than that? Big T's birthday is tomorrow. How big is Big T, you ask? I'll let the picture do the talking:
That's right--he's so big, he needs his own picture--he can't share with his little brother anymore. Here it is for you:
Anyway, we decorated the house yesterday--it would make Martha Stewart turn pale and run fleeing from the state, but then, my neck of Cali really isn't Martha Stewart country. But that's okay, because I have big sister to help
And, other than that, I might be a bit longer than usual (I know, you've heard that before) because in addition to the usual holiday madness, I do have my book crisis, I mean my literary nervous breakdown, I mean my editing to attend to--but never fear...Bound will eventually be submitted in the final edit, and I'll be sane (HA! I can hear you all laughing from here!!) once again:-)