when did I become a ma'am?

I'm chilling out today after a weekend at a conference, and I went grocery shopping this evening. I'm just minding my own business, walking out with my little cart, and a man says "have a good evening, ma'am." Ok, I get it, he was trying to be nice, but come ON. My mom is a ma'am! I am not, nor will I ever be, a ma'am.

On other topics, I'm at over 25,000 words on my novel now. Nice. And the cats sure were happy to see us. It's nice to be loved by little furballs.

22.006 words on my novel so far (and Crappy Hotels Part 1)

I'm stoked because I've written 22,006 words in my novel so far. Pretty cool. Have to get to 23,500 by the end of today, I believe, so I can easily hit 25,000 by tomorrow, the halfway mark of national novel writing month.

Anyway, I'm hanging out at the California Library Association's annual meeting. This year it's in San Jose and I'm staying at the swanky Hilton. You'd think for the amount of money you pay to stay in the hotel that is attached to the conference center you'd get things like, oh, I don't know, Free Wifi? But no, it's $23.95 for three days. AND it's by the computer. So me and Hubby have to each pay. How completely stupid is that? AND they wouldn't let us load up the luggage cart to unload the car ourselves. And I didn't want to have to tip the bellguy for all my overpacked 12 dozen bags, so we wound up parking in the parking structure and carrying all of our crap - two trips each - the long distance rather than just having me unload the car and stay with the cart while J parked. SO that sucked. AND we said we didn't want housekeeping service. I don't like the way they make the beds, and I don't like people poking around my stuff. So we filled out a little card saying no housekeeping. And of course, we get housekeeping. And of course, we get housekeeping. What the phuck? Stupid stupid stupid overpriced hotel. I much prefer the best western. It IS nice to walk to the convention center wtihout going outside, but man, this hotel sucks. Stay away from the Hilton San Jose!

So what's the deal with chin hair?

Who thought it would be a good idea for women close to thirty (and slightly over, in my case) to get chin hair? Is this a joke?

I first noticed chin hair when I was 27 and at a hotel with a ginormous magnifying mirror on an extending arm in the bathroom. I noticed three big old witchy hairs and suddenly started panicking and checking for moles and age spots.

Fortunately I have a chubby face, so don't have wrinkles yet, but these chin hairs have just got to go. Once evert three months or so, one just appears. I swear, it doesn't grow in like a normal hair - it's just born 3 inches long.

This sucks.

Energy-Sapping Mothers

I didn't write my 2500 words today because I talked to my mother, which saps just about all the creative energy out of me (and hence, doesn't happen very often). I managed to spill out about 1050 words - up to 14301. Tuesday is a holiday. Hopefully in between thanking Veterans for their service, I will be able to get 2500 words in. Must have a couple of good days because this weekend is the California Library Association meeting in San Jose, and heaven knows I'll be having so much fun partying with librarians, I won't get my word count done.

Hardwood flooring is nearly complete in the bathroom. Now I just have to be careful not to make big messes when I'm taking baths. No more mildew.

Also made a pot roast in the crock pot today. We'll have french dip roast beef sandwiches for leftovers tomorrow. The cats are all cuddled and warm, and I am too.

Suburban Dates and Lazy Saturdays

Last night J and I had what I call a Suburban Date. We went to Ikea. I call this a Suburban Date because the only people at IKEA are generally Suburbanites driving their large SUV's and making a mess out of the parking lot. I guess the crappy economy is hitting even Discount Swedish Furniture Places, though, because it was EMPTY. We parked right by the entrance, and didn't even have to wait in line at the cafe (where J gets chicken fingers and I get apple salmon with veggies). After our Discount Swedish Dinner we bought flooring for the bathroom. J is determined to have me decide what is going to happen next in the bathroom (we took out the gross shower when we moved in and put in a nice new bathtub, which necessitated taking down the mildewy drywall, and putting up new concrete on which to put tile once I decide what kind) but I'm lagging. It's just too much to decide. Skylight or no skylight. Beadboard or no beadboard. What kind of tiles. It's just too much. I lack direction. Hardwood flooring at least gets us started in the right direction.

Today I woke up for two hours and then napped. This is unusual for me. I'm not a napper. J is a napper. But not me. I get 8 hours of sleep at night, on a good night, and that does me for the day. But today I napped for 2 hours on the couch, which was quite nice.

I worked out and watched Seinfeld reruns, then we went to dinner in Big Bear at the vacation condo of some friend's of J's. I got carsick on the mountain-road drive, coming and going. Realized that I rarely drive at night anymore, and my eyes are really bothered by the Assault of all the bright lights on the dark mountain. Recovered from my carsickness by 10pm, and then wrote 1600 words for my novel. Up to about 13,240. Now it's bedtime, after I clean up the messiness from tuna sandwich lunch in the kitchen. Yucky and smelly. J is installing the hardwood floors and the cats are going crazy.

We're so adult and boring. Tomorrow's big excitement is the Sunday Paper, a goal of 2500 words, a long bubblebath, and Laundry!

gOBAMA

I'm still bursting into tears at random moments when I think about Obama and how proud I am of America.

Will.i.am is a genius.

Ode to Partying

When I was 25 I had my "going out on the pull" outfit, which was a pair of slinky black trousers with this little teensy TopShop magenta sweater that was cut waaaay too deep in both the front and the back and barely met the waistband of the trousers. I know it's probably tame compared to what "kids these days" wear, but having grown up in Amish Country it was quite risque, and I felt like a hussy whenever I wore it on Big Nights Out when I thought being a hussy would be fun.

I partied like a rock star, and since it was London and I never had to worry about driving, I did it the "right" way, too. On more than one occasion, I peed my pants on the Underground (if I was coherant enough, I'd get off at the first stop and wait for the next train so the other passengers could deal with my little accidental puddle). Once I threw up on myself. Another time I fell asleep while my friend was trying to get a cab, and when I woke up a few minutes later, I was surrounded by coins. People obviously thought I was homeless. The perpetual 25 year old in me thinks that was really hilarious.

I didn't even mind the hangovers so much. There was this fun sense of comraderie standing in line at Burger King with the other hungover people in the morning, trying to get enough grease and salt to soak up the alcohol so that the world wasn't blurry and our heads weren't splitting. Eating a salty croissant thing for breakfast, getting a 10am packet of kettle chips, guzzling water. Being able to say "god, I hope last night was worth all this..." and knowing that it probably wasn't, but it was still fun.

These days I get excited by getting my Ralphs Rewards bonus points for bringing my own bags to the grocery store. The Anya Hindmarch bags at Target gave me a wee bit of a Targasm. Going out to chase the skunk off the porch is always a little bit scary - what if he sprays? Oooh, the danger....

Sheesh.

VOTE!

I proudly filled out my ballot for Obama/Biden this morning.

Now I'm at the office. Tonight I will be chopping and dicing turkey for croquettes, and watching the election results, and John King's crazy map, until they are all in. Wolf Blitzer and I will become very close.

A break for Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, and hopefully a bit of novel writing. I'm currently at 7000 words. Trying to get a few days ahead for when thanksgiving arrives, bringing Sandor and his girlfriend Nicole from England along with it.

The other thing I'm happy about today is that Lewis Hamilton won the Formula 1 championship on Sunday. He's some kinda hot. And he's dating the lead singer of the Pussycat Dolls. A girl can still dream, though.

A novel, A novel, my kingdom for a Novel!

So I'm doing National Novel Writing Month, which is in November. The idea is to write a 50,000 word novel in one month, in between cooking the turkey and thinking about Christmas gifts, that is. It started November 1, and thus far I have about 6,000 words of something vaguely resembling a memoir/chick-lit story.

I've been writing in the morning, in the evening, and any other time. I am avoiding all books this month because I don't want to accidentally take their voices. Which is kind of a bummer, but that's ok. One month without a book won't kill me. Especially since I am ordering the new Matthew Shardlake mystery and can look forward to that. Tudor mysteries do it for me, what can I say.

I also spent the weekend being super-domesticated. I made pumpkin bread with real pumpkin. And then practiced making my Thanksgiving Turkey, with homemade stuffing (I cut up the bread myself). I have discovered a great appreciation for cooking in the past few months. As in cooking from scratch. No mixes, no boxes. When I go to the grocery store I buy fresh ingredients. It's been theraputic and meditative, and I love opening the fridge to see lots of fresh veggies that I've never heard of before. Like a celery root. What's a celery root? Who knows, but it sure was yummy in my turkey/leek/celery root soup.

And I'm super-excited to vote Obama tomorrow.