Are you sick of that narsty picture of my aging arm down there below? Because I sure am. It's taken up way too much pixel space on my blog this week. So, it is time to move on.
I missed my Wednesday post because it's been crazy-pants busy around here. Not a moment to breathe. My family hasn't eaten in like a month because I've been running around too much, like the proverbial chicken, to cook them anything. If you are a follower of my recipe blog, you haven't eaten in a month either. Please. Go buy yourself something at McDonald's. I don't want your slow starvation on my conscience. I'm already feeling bad for you.
I do like being busy though, don't you? I mean it is so much better than sitting and staring at walls and refolding the laundry into origami shapes, and color coordinating the dust-bunnies behind the fridge, and corn-rowing the grass in the front yard. Not that I do any of that stuff.
But being busy gives one a sense of purpose, does it not? It becomes the rudder on your little canoe of life. Or, er, yacht, if that's your style. (I'm trying to work my way up to a rubber raft. We'll think about yachts with rudders later. Like once my books are published and we are rich and famous and can afford to think about yachts.)
Speaking of books, here's the lowdown on my projects: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!! I am sort of having a heart-attack over them. I seriously get about 8 minutes a day to write right now. Partly because I keep going to bed too late, so I don't wake up early enough, and I miss my writing time. But also because next week the play opens, and the week after that I'll be singing in Seattle. I'm hoping things calm down a bit once that's all over with. And that I'll suddenly develop enough self-control to go to bed so I can get up at 6 like I mean to. It will happen! Slowly and surely I will win that race. We may all be just so much mercurial mist floating up to heaven before I am published, but by didgerydoo, I WILL get published.
So, dear people, keep your eyes peeled for one young adult comedy novel and one giggle-worthy non-fiction work from yours truly. I promise there will be no pictures of menopausal arms anywhere in them. But there will be a sigh of relief and a sense of accomplishment. Even if they don't sell, I will at least know I am capable of saying that much in writing.
If none of this works out, I'm so heading to Scotland. By way of Ireland. And England. And probably Fiji. And the See's Chocolate's factory in California.
See you at my book signings, okay? (Not at 6:00 in any morning.)