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Archive for February 25th, 2005

I have a phone and I know how to use it

Feb
25

My hunk of burning love has been working late ALL WEEK. That means I’ve been cooking dinner every night. Last night my daughter noted that I was cooking dinner again. (Yes, this is odd enough that my children notice it.) I said, “Yes, I am, and I’m TIRED OF IT.” (Just call me the Happy Chef .) She said, “Don’t most women do the cooking?” (What ARE they teaching her in school???)

I whipped around. “NO. Most women do NOT do the cooking.” (Okay, that’s probably a lie, but I write fiction for a living, so I get to do that at will.) “Men can cook. And they should!” (I don’t have a rationale for this, but it works for me.)

She puffed her chest out and said, “When I get married, my husband is going to do the cooking just like Daddy! Or else!”

I hope the boy she marries isn’t going to the same school that she is.

Tonight, my husband is working late again and I’m teaching her how women order pizza.

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dancing

Feb
25

I’m such a dork. I got a box last week. I’ve been ordering a lot of research materials recently for the merman story and I’m so overloaded on treasure hunting books right now, when I got this box I didn’t even open it, barely glanced at it, just stashed it in a corner. This morning it occurred to me that the box might be my daughter’s Zoobooks stuff that we ordered, so I actually *looked* at the box.

It’s my author copies for COLE DEMPSEY’S BACK IN TOWN!

I love the first time I hold a book in my hands. All these years later, it still makes my heart beat faster and I dance around the room with it for a minute. I love being a writer. :D

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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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Old Farmer\'s Almanac

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