Thursday, February 19, 2009
Update Time Again
- First, I want to show you this photograph I took of the recent full moon -- I thought it was interesting as photographs go -- and then we'll move right along:
- My mom was in a car accident a couple of weeks ago. She wasn't hurt, but her 1989 5-speed stick shift yellow Mustang took a significant hit. It's still in the body shop. Seems they can't find the parts they need to fix a car that old. It may be old, but it only had 54,000 or so miles on it. Anyway, it's very stressful for my mom and therefore me. She does NOT like being without her wheels.
- I've finished proofreading the "deflag" manuscripts for both books (August 2009 release, 2-in-1 volume, THE MARINE and THE FIRST BOY I LOVED). The copy editor did a good job changing what I said into what I meant in fewer and better words, without -- and here's the main thing -- changing my voice. I was pleased with his or her work, and believe me, that has not always been the case. Copy editors can be wonderful things -- or the Devil's Own Curse. In any event, we're moving right along in the production process. I've put in my request for the cover jpg. ASAP, so as soon as I get it, I'll post it. (For me, waiting the see the cover is like waiting for Santa Claus when I was four.)
- My granddaughter has learned the power of sponge rollers. She advised me Monday that a little boy in her kindergarten class told her if she kept those curls, he wanted to marry her. I'm not sure if she's engaged -- albeit conditionally. In this case I guess you really could wash that man right out of your hair if you wanted to.
I have to say I do love little boys at that age. Either they don't know what girls are or they're throwing around marriage proposals. I got a proposal once myself when I was a school nurse. A little kindergarten age boy asked me to marry him -- then he gave me his pencil. I was truly honored. I think I still have my "engagement" pencil here somewhere.
- I've just learned that mail delivery isn't what it could be. Either that, or someone hijacked the box of Cheerwine cake slices I sent to my nephew. He's in school in Upstate New York, and he never got it. I suppose it could be in a snowbank somewhere until the spring thaw. My guess, however, is that it's in another student's snack stash. Cheerwine isn't alcoholic, by the way. It's a wonderful-tasting cherry cola-esque soft drink made locally since the early 20th Century. The taste is hard to describe, but if you grew up here, you grew up drinking Cheerwine. If you were ever away from home for an extended period of time, you desperately wanted someone to send you a case, and when you got back, drinking an icy cold Cheerwine was one of the first things you did. We make cakes out of it, too. And ice cream. And ice cream floats. And punch. My mom and I introduced him to Cheerwine and to her homemade Cheerwine cake when he was little -- we have to keep him attached to his Southern roots somehow -- so he was disappointed when his dozen cake slices went awry, even if they weren't the homemade kind. Now I have to decide whether I'm going to try to send him some more, and if so, how. Maybe UPS is the better way to go.
So. That's it for this time. All of you have a good rest of the week. Have yourself a nice cold Cheerwine -- you can always buy some online.