Yes, my lovelies. I've done it again.
How is it that I can paint myself into a literary corner and then write like my ass is on fire? I think it's a sickness, personally. Kind of like waiting until the last minute in high school Science to boil a chicken bone. Draw a diagram. Glue said chicken bone on the diagram in the right place. Then write a report about it.
So that's how the weekend will unfold. Gotta go get some food today after work to keep the chickens occupied. Have a buttload of movies for them to peruse at their leisure. And me? I'll be writing Wind Goddess and smiling/cursing. *grins*
Had lunch with the Mama today. Burgers down the street. I love my mom. She's good stuff. And funny as hell without meaning to be. Case in point: We discuss all three chickens and their academics and personality. Oldest and baby chicken are having no academic problems in school. Middle chicken is making my eye twitch over her Science grade. (Yes. It's that horrid.) And Mom says, "Does she have ADT?" Meaning, in Momspeak, ADD.
No, I explain. She's got l-a-z-y. *eye roll*
And now...the picture of the perfect man:
Of course...he's completely fictional.
1 year ago