Buffy ,'Potential'
[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.
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.
I know the names of all three of her children, and she gets no freaking say in the name of this kid.Heh. What names have you chosen? I do remember you telling at one point, but it's gone gone gone, because I love the "Princess Ticky Box" one so much.
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.
Argh. I always got "How are you feeling?" I remember that, and my pregnancies were less complicated, so I can't even imagine how often (and with how much urgency) you get that. I remember noticing "How are ya/how are you doin'," went completely by the wayside. I caught myself doing that to a woman at church yesterday.
I'm trying to reconstruct my treatment (inpatient and partial) from August 2003 till now. This is no fun. And my LJ entries aren't proving helpful. I think I'm gonna have to go back and search old Bitches threads. This could take me a while...