Patience, who needs it?

Were you a "peeker"?

My son Matthew (11) asked me the other day if I used to look for the Christmas presents my parents hid. I never did. My younger sister was a MAJOR peeker. If peeking could be an artform, Ronda was Picasso.

She used to come up to me and say, "Wanna know what you're getting for Christmas?"

Hello, if I did, I would have peeked myself.

But I didn't.

I liked to be surprised, and I had the patience to wait. Or at least in my selected memories of the past, that's what I remember. Maybe I'm blocking all my bad moments. Okay, I don't want to think about that, so I'm going to pretend that my memories are accurate.

As I age, I don't feel as patient.

I sent a partial to an agent I really like and I'm a nervous wreck. Well, maybe not a nervous wreck. But I just can't seem to concentrate on doing laundry because I'm wondering if she got my partial and if she's enjoying the imaginary Godivas I sent with it. Or maybe I'm not worrying at all. Maybe this rant is merely a diversion to keep form doing my laundry and cleaning the kitchen and vaccuuming the floor and changing another poopy diaper.

Maybe.

Did I spell vaccuum right?

Something New!

I like painting the walls in my house almost as much as I like rearranging my furniture.

Why?

I like new things, and paint and shifted furniture give me the facade of having something new. When you don't have the money to shop, you have to make do.

Oftentimes we hear publishers are looking for something new.

But are they really?

Really?

Really really?

Just between us, don't they just want the same thing just shifted around a bit to look new?

After reading some threads over at Romancing the Blog, I heard of this new thing in inspirational fiction--edgy inspys. Interesting. I did a little checking and discovered that a lot of inspirational readers are either bored with the crop of books that CBA publishers have tossed out to the lions or they've given up on the inspy market or they've just decided that if they want a story without any sex in it then they'll just have to make do with what's available. Gotta sacrific if you want a clean story, which I find really odd because why can't a story be basically decent and still be riviting?

This past summer I read an anthology published by Barbour. I'm not sure if the authors should be more ashamed of writing such dreck or if the publishers should be for publishing it. I know I certainly wished I had my $5.99 back. Did no one take time to edit the stories? I've read better written material in the RWA contests I judged this last year...and I haven't heard of any of those stories being sold yet. Oh wait, actually two of them have. Go, ladies!

I'm not too sure I believe these new batches of "edgy inspirationals" are much different than what's already been out in the market. A slip-cover only disguises the outside of a sofa. It doesn't fix the broken springs.

I think I'd rather just buy a new sofa, wouldn't you?

The Great Easter Egg Hunt

Remember when you were a kid and you dyed eggs for Easter? I do. My mom would hard-boil about two to three dozen eggs, and my two sisters and I would mix bowls of vinegar and food coloring. My nose is twitching as a I remember the vinegar smell. Eew. So after delicately creating funky and not so funky patterns, we would leave the eggs for Dad to hide.

Now think about this with me. Between the time Mom cooked the eggs, Dad hid them, and my sisters and I hunted them, we're talking HOURS. Does the word samenella...sominella...omg, I can't spell. Well despite my inability to spell that word, we all know what word I'm trying to spell. At least I hope we do.

My sisters and parents actually ate some of those hunted hard-boiled eggs. Me? I couldn't get past the green-colored egg white. Double eew. My mom sometimes made egg salad sandwiches. I'm grossing myself out with my memories.

Realistically, wouldn't it had been wiser just to go with the chocolate-filled plastic eggs? Each year you could recycle the eggs. Of course, you wouldn't want to recycle the chocolate.

Right now I'm on The Great Agent Egg Hunt. As an unpubbie, I'm never sure if the agent I query is a delicious chocolate-filled one or hard-boiled.

So I know the best thing to do is research and ask around.

Today I'm sending off a requested partial to an agent in NY. I have a feeling she's a chocolate-filled one. I just gotta hope she sees the chocolate-filling in my writing. Too bad I can't send a box of Godiva with my sample chapters.

So to those of you who are also out on the Great Agent Hunt, I send you chocolate-filled best wishes to ward off any hard-boiled one.

Ripped Pants and Heaving Bosoms

Okay, my New December's resolution is to be more faithful to my blog.

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Christmas is just around the corner. Do you feel the excitement in the retailers’ pocketbooks? Money, I got to have it. Sing with me now.

When the Toy R Us Big Book made its grand entrance in my home, my youngest son swore he had learned all he needed to know in kindergarten, thus staying home and reading The Book would be a better use of his time. Yes, I still kicked him out the front door and told him to run fast so he doesn’t miss the school bus. But when that little adorable critter came home, I lovingly gave him a steaming cup of hot chocolate, a fresh-baked homemade chocolate chip cookie, a black Sharpie, and The Book.

The boy’s face glowed like he was sitting at the foot of God.

Okay, I didn’t really give him hot chocolate and a cookie. For the sake of my memory books, I...

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Enjoy!