Spike's Bitches 21 Gunn Salute
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Gronklies.
I want good tub. Mine drains at will, and I look comical trying to fit into it anyway. I still love baths enough to try, though. I just can't pull off a nice long bath.
I have to drive to Nashua tonight. Good: Crazy mileage money which I really need to make it to payday, nice time in the car with Wesley the iPod, hotel room on the company. Bad: Lots of work, sharing the hotel room, working till 2 am, then back at the Maine store to work for 1:30 next day.
I think it'd be a wash if it didn't feed me for the next few days. Since it does, I shall try not to complain.
If you'd have been here at 3:00 a.m., I'd have given him to you.
I get this a lot from my sister.
These stories, while amusing me (and my amusement in turn aggravates the mother in question), also serve the second purpose of reinforcing our decision to not have kids. Hanging out with a newborn will do that too.
I wish I were more of a hands-on auntie though, because the babies don't freak me out when they cry (my sister has perfected an eye roll whenever anyone playing with one of the babies brings them back to her as soon as they get fussy) and I love hanging out with them very much. And also, love going home without them.
The babies I know, I love so much, I think I want one of our own. Then a late period puts all THAT back in perspective.
Plei, did your bathroom get finished, then?
Yep! Well, functionally finished, at any rate.
Cash, mother claims that when I was wee, I would pull myself up and then carefully swing myself over to make good my escape.
Given how many tales I've heard of my monkey-like self in childhood, I'm kind of scared.
But, after a certain point, I think *requiring* them is ridiculous.
I think that point occurs sometime in middle school or early high-school, IMO. After that, the kids should learn that an outline is a tool, not a cage. They should also learn that outlines don't have to be in a certain format with roman numerals, indents, etc. A simple list can work just fine.
I had a teacher that not only required them, but didn't allow you to veer from them.
That teacher needs to be beaten soundly.
It is natural, during the course of writing, to be inspired by a better idea.
Absolutely. That's why, when I write fiction, an outline is absolutely essential. I rarely stick to my original outline, but having that outline lets me see what would need to be changed to bring in the new idea.
I had a teacher that not only required them, but didn't allow you to veer from them.
This was a lot of my teachers. They could be brutal about it.
These stories, while amusing me (and my amusement in turn aggravates the mother in question), also serve the second purpose of reinforcing our decision to not have kids. Hanging out with a newborn will do that too.
If you two ever start to change your mind, I will totally take your baby for the newborn stage. Of course, I'll probably then kill you if you try to take back the child, once s/he's passed the newborn stage, because Mine! Came to ME!
Given how many tales I've heard of my monkey-like self in childhood, I'm kind of scared.
Plei, can you remember your mother imparting the curse bestowing the blessing, "I hope when you grow up, you have one just like you!"?
Plei, can you remember your mother imparting the curse bestowing the blessing, "I hope when you grow up, you have one just like you!"?
Sure, as she imparted it again the other day.
Oh, that's dirty pool when you're this far along.
The house in Salem I love (which is still up for sale, and the realtor just emailed me to tell me the price has been reduced)
Buy it, buy it! Clearly they
want
you to have it.
t not helpful
It's less annoying than her insisting on bringing up potential middle names she prefers to Elizabeth. Which she does despite being told that it pisses me off, and to please stop, and anyhow, I know the names of all three of her children, and she gets no freaking say in the name of this kid.
Which remains less irritating than my in-laws asking me how I am doing all the time. Because I could explain what the medical reasons were behind my time on bedrest, but they still would't get it, and I'd still want them to just leave me alone and Stop. Freaking. Asking.
(Annoying personal ticks of my mother's are still less annoying than well-meaning MiL talk. Who knew?)
It's weird. I always thought when and if I were having a kid, my mother would annoy me with unsolicited-but-informed medical information. But no, she chooses to annoy me about names instead.
