More on Writing OR I Don't Feel Like Writing Right Now OR It Looks Like Rain

Here I sit broken-hearted, started out with an old limerick and only...

Anyway, post Thanksgiving stomach mystery ailment has accosted me in a vile and nasty manner that I will not describe because this isn't that kind of blog.  (Well, it is, but that's a line I won't cross.)

The high and low of it, (well, not really the lowest) is that I don't feel like writing today.  Or eating, which generally is enough to alarm HIM into hysteria.  ("You're not hungry!  OMG!  I'll CALL AN AMBULANCE NOW!  DON'T GO INTO THE LIGHT!") I don't think I need to go to the doctor based on the following criteria: I'm not bleeding copiously from any part of my body, I'm not vomiting like Linda Blair, and I'm not running a high temp.  (It's just a little, itty-bitty baby temp.)

You wouldn't believe how many
nudie shots Linda Blair did.  I had
no idea until I searched for
photos of her on Bing.
I mean, it looks like she did a spread
every month for a a couple of
years.  Well, you do what you
have to to pay the mortgage, right?

However, not being hungry for me is like ringing a huge church bell.  Also, try to picture Robby Robot in your head yelling, "Danger, Will Robinson!" except he's saying, "Danger, Fat Woman!  Have a bag of potato chips!"  (Haha.  Get that out of your head now.)

So I'm not really feeling like writing but I do feel like sitting at the computer and bitching about it.

And the mouse from last week's blog makes a guest appearance,
since he/she/it hasn't been caught.

I had to stop because my daughter's moron cat saw the UPS truck drive up outside and started growling at it.  (I'm not sure what Moron Cat thinks will happen.  The UPS truck will hear his growling and drive away quickly?  Or will it be properly subjugated?  I do not know.  I cannot read Moron Cat's mind and I'm not sure if I want to.)  Anyway, the UPS truck left a package, which is a Xmas present for my daughter and I had to go hide it.  (Wow, I'm going off track here.)  Our daughter, who is 8, still thinks Santa is da bomb.  She wrote a letter to him last weekend.  (All by herself.)  She wants an EZ bake oven, Orbeez, a stuffed cat with three kittens, and something else I forgot already.  I was already on top of the EZ bake oven and the Orbeez (these are mysteriously growing beads in a funky package that makes a huge freakin' mess.  I'm so looking forward to the thrill of this.)  But I didn't know about the stuffed cat with three kittens.  Fortunately there was AMAZON to the rescue.  I luv Amazon except that they don't sell as many of my books as Barnes & Noble, which is why I luv Barnes & Noble.  Anyway, quick search for stuffed cat with three kittens and I found a winner.  (Santa is going to be da man this year.  That super saint will be pulling out the loot on Christmas Eve for sure.)  We've told Cressy that she needs to leave Santa Moon Pies and Beer.

Where was I?  Oh, yes, UPS truck, cat growling, package for kid, hiding the package, Moon Pies and beer, which I secretly loathe and of which thinking about it now makes me want to barf, and finally back to blogging about being sick.  (It's a circuitous route but I managed to pull it off.)

I think I have an ulcer.  A writer's ulcer.  I keep having dreams about characters and the funky things they're doing.  For example, I'm writing a paranormal suspense novella for my Cat Clan fans, while I'm waiting for the proofreader/editor (She RULES!) to finish with Bubba and the MMN, and I decided that I should have a were Yeti in the novella.  It's my book.  I get to do what I want with it.  (This is the reason they never find Yeti bodies.  Good, huh?)  Jeez, someone needs to get me a ruler to keep me straight because I go off on a side note all the time.

Writer's ulcer.  Also a worried-about-the-economy ulcer.  I had a Facebook person tell me that their relative lost their job at Hostess after I posted the Twinkie funeral picture.  (This made me wish I hadn't posted the picture because it seems rather thoughtless but in today's economy I don't know too many people who haven't lost their jobs or whose jobs aren't at risk.)  (You HAVE to laugh about this stuff or you will cry instead.  I'm telling you it's much better to laugh.)  I try not to get too politic in the blogs but is our economy getting better or is everyone just having wishful thinking?

Okay enough of that.  It's making my stomach hurt.  Time to go find the Pepto-Bismol and hope for the best.  Plus the Moron Cat is now growling at HIM as HIM walks down the driveway.