irrelevant (and sometimes questionable) ramblings

You know it’s going to be a looooong P.A. (Professional Activity) Day (kids are off school today) when the Offspring throws a righteous tantrum right after breakfast.

Is there a way to hyperspeed through today so we can get it over with?!?

*insert longsuffering sigh here*

You know those days when you’re sorely tempted to say:

“Oh, just get out of here, already!”

Yeah. Today’s one of them.

*siiiiiigh*

So yesterday I was hoofing it downtown on my lunch break, when some bright spots of red and yellow on the ground caught my eye.

I slowed a little bit as I passed the little circles and realized that they were condoms. Out of their packages. I refrained from attempting to see if they’d been used.

Ew.

Anyhoo… I kept on going down the street, half-following this little trail of discs randomly dropped in the snow. There were probably a dozen or so of them in total, plus some torn condom wrappers.

It just made me wonder — were some kids out goofing around with a box o’ rubbers in the middle of the night? If they wanted to play with balloons, frankly, the dollar store would have much cheaper ones.

Maybe it had something to do with the downtown prostitutes — the office isn’t in the most pristine of areas in town. But that might mean that some of those condoms were, in fact, used.

Double ew.

Or was it some sort of kinky version of Hansel and Gretel, the condoms acting as some sort of breadcrumb trail, leading to an unspeakable wickedness?

Who knows? It was entertaining for about thirty seconds, or so…

WHY in God’s name would people in this household bring home a “Club Size” box of powdered mini-doughnuts?!?

Don’t these people realize that I have no willpower whatsoever? I can’t just leave something like that sitting untouched on the kitchen counter! I am completely unable to walk away. Period.

That’s okay. I had some last night, and today I’m bringing the rest to the Orifice. I’ll let the workplace seagulls come and eat them all. (Just like I want to. But I. Shall. Not. WILL. NOT.)

*pant, pant*

I’m okay. I’ll survive. I think.

That’s the problem with these “seafood” diets… you see food, and you wanna eat it…

As exciting as all the wedding planning and future house-hunting is, it’s slightly distressing to realize that the month of January is almost over, and that I haven’t written a single word.

It’s easy to blame external forces, isn’t it? It’s so easy to say, “Oh, gee, I can’t sit at the computer tonight. I’ve got XYZ to do.” But those are all just excuses. If I want to do this for my life, then it needs to be treated as something more than just a hobby.

It’s also distressing to discover your editor is no longer with the company, and now your babies have to be reassessed by yet another pair of eyes. And that person may not like your writing style, or feel the same way about your stories that your editor did. I feel somewhat orphaned. But that should not keep me away from the keyboard.

As I reminded my buddy Heather Rae Scott, 100 words on the screen is 100 more than were there to begin with. And 100 words is a big step in the right direction. So it’s got to be decision-making time. Find 30 minutes to just sit at the computer and type something. Anything, for God’s sake. The stories aren’t going to write themselves. And they certainly won’t send royalty cheques.

*sigh*

Well, tally-ho and all that. Let’s see if I can finish something new by the end of February. Here goes nothin’… Wish me luck.

It’s no secret I love the pampering of spa visits. I treated myself to a hot-oil manicure tonight which was heavenly — extra moisturizing for my ultra-dry hands, and soaking in warm oil to heat up those chilly digits. So nice!

In fact, if I had some extra disposable income I’d certainly head to the spa more often. Manicures, pedicures, facials, body wraps, scrubs… you name it. Unfortunately, those visits fall into the “luxury” category which, with the New House on the horizon, will be at the very bottom of the priority list.

Oh, well. This just means I have to get more stuff written and sold, so the royalty cheques can help keep me primped, buffed and polished. Hard work = rewards.

What do you like to do to reward yourself? What qualifies as “me” time for you?

ps. B.E. — I hope you paid close attention to this post. Hee hee hee…

I am not the best organizer in the world.

In fact, I spent a goodly amount of time this evening attempting to locate some paperwork that I needed — realizing, finally, that it wasn’t in the place I originally thought.

My excuse is that I need a proper office in which to store — neatly categorized, filed, and labeled — all of these random bits of paper. The Future House will hopefully be able to provide such a space.

I can only hope.

In the meantime, I shall shuffle and rearrange as best I can. The good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, the Future House will be here sooner rather than later. I, for one, can hardly wait! Yay, house!

The mind is a wonderful thing. I find it amazing that one off-the-cuff word can instigate an entire flood of ideas that — ahem, spurt, if I may — rapidly into the forefront of the brain.

(Oh, c’mon. What’s the use of being an erotica writer if I can’t make use of innuendo once in a while…??)

It’s almost like hearing the click of puzzle pieces fitting together — when one idea sparks into something else. And it makes me look at the poor forgetful brain in my head and give it a virtual pat in appreciation. Good thing to know it still works. And I may not be able to start on this new idea right away, but it’s comforting to know the creative — juices — haven’t completely dried up yet!

The worst part, though, is that B.E. is away for a few days, leaving li’l ole moi with all these kinky new ideas in my head…

The newest wedding challenge is on.

Shoes.

I wish I could order shoes online. It would make life so easy. But that’s absolutely impossible. I must try shoes on before buying, because 93% of the time, they do not fit in some way. I have admitted it in the past — I have nicely petite–yet strange–feet. Which just means that I am forced to shop in person.

This will potentially cause problems here in Northern Canuckland — our selection of fancy-shoe shops is rather small. I am already figuring that this will require a trip to Toronto to remedy. I’m not even sure what I want yet. It’ll probably be one of those “when I see them” moments. But I do need to start keeping my eyes peeled now, though. Shoes are something I don’t want left to the last minute.

Oh, and by the way, I don’t know if anyone has tried to comment in the last 24 hours, but as a way of dealing with neverending spam, I have set all comments to “moderated”. The good news for you regulars, though, is that I only need to approve you once. Let’s see if this helps even remotely.

And on that note, I am going to bed. Ciao.

There are times I don’t like Wordpress. I want to change my font and stuff, and I’m too tired right now to start fiddling with it, dammit. I need point-and-click! I’m a point-and-click kind of gal!

*sigh*

In other news, I have found The Dress! A deposit has been paid, and the thing ordered. One big item I can drop off the gargantuan To-Do list. Now to tackle the three-million other teensy items. Well, as B.E. says, at the end of the day we’ll be married, and that’s all that really matters. True enough.

(However, I am Type-A enough to need to get this stuff sorted out. I mean, really. Loose ends and unfinished business make me jumpy.)

On that note, I am going to bed. I need to try and get a good night’s sleep for once.