I keep trying to rationalize by telling myself I'm helping the economy.
Ooo. Good one. I refuse to feel bad about the cds, because Lord knows I want Lucero and Corb Lund to keep making music. They've brought me ridiculous amounts of joy in the past few years.
they're super comfy.
Eeeeexcellent. One of my other justifications is that my recent onset of plantar fascitis means that I need to cut down on heel-wearing as much as possible.
And in a hilarious coincidence, I just now found out that all local mall is getting an H&M. I am SCREWED.
Okay, fine, I will go pay my bills.
Grumble, grumble, try to procrastinate and the buffistas talk about budgets and responsibility, what a world.
Barb, I can't really help...the last column I wrote was "Why Alan Grayson is Awesome" which doesn't seem right for Romancing the Blog, although maybe there could be a column on why heroes don't usually look like him.
(Er, Hec, have you checked your email recently?)
You should get that Neil Gaiman thing.
I have packed everything I won't need within the next week (and completed by that the packing of my rooms!) and fixed my schedule for next year so I won't have to kill my advisors.
Now where's my cabana boy?
I keep saying I am going to stop buying books uñtil I catch up on my to be read pile, but so far I have proven too weak.
Yes, this is me.
I also keep saying I'm not going to purchase any more blazers/waistcoats/military jackets, yet what do I window-shop eBay for? Yeah, you guessed it.
Isn't that, like, the Eastern European cure for sunrise?
Speaking of sunrise, some fellow Volunteers went to Egypt on vacation and hiked Mt. Sinai at sunrise... only to have to share the peak with noisy Russians drinking vodka.
Time to celebrate*? Vodka. Time to mourn**? Vodka. Time to honor saints***? Vodka. Time to vomit? Vodka. Time to get in your car and drive? Vodka.
Of course, the drinking of vodka leads to such joys as "time for domestic violence," "time to lose extremities to frostbite," "time to crash the car," "time to get in trouble with Peace Corps" (for Volunteers), and apocryphally, "time to pass out faceup in the rain and drown."
Shots of homemade wine are an acceptable and common substitute. In extreme situations, cologne or antifreeze may be substituted, though adverse reactions may result.
* Alcohol-fueled celebrations include but are not limited to Christmas, Easter, each village's Founding Day, May Day, International Woman's Day (at school, no less), birthdays, weddings, baptisms, etc.
** And I'm not just talking funerals, b/c it's traditional to host a meal honoring the dead at one week, every 30 days for six months, and then annually for seven years. As Dave Barry says, I am not making this up.
*** Allow me to recount the celebration of "40 Saints" day, where my non-drinking host mother was urged to do 40 shots of homemade wine. At her workplace. Which happened to be the hospital.
No wonder so many of my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers got in touch with their inner alcoholics. Me, I was delighted to live with a very rare non-drinking family (father was a recovering alcoholic, another rarity in Moldova).
Good times, good times.
I'm afraid I was just really mean on an email loop. A guy came on complaining that he was going to be getting another 3-star review on his book because, while the reviewer praised his storytelling, she said the spelling and grammatical mistakes were distracting and threw her out of the story.
And this guy is whining, because in his words, "I know my own spelling and editing skills suck, but that's why I assumed an editor would fix it and if I ask them to reedit, they're going to want to charge me!"
Ah... went with a small press, did we?
I just kind of let him know, in fairly kind language, that it's his name on the book and if he knows, going in, that he has spelling/grammatical/whatever issues, then it's up to him to find a critique partner or a freelance editor who can catch those things before it's submitted. That publishing houses are being downsized constantly and there are too many writers out there submitting clean manuscripts for him to waltz in assuming that he's so fabulous an editor's going to want to fix his p's and q's.
Still, I may have been a bit harsh.
My whole apartment smells like apples and cinnamon because I just made my first ever apple crisp. I hope it tastes as good as it smells.
