In Which We Pedal Like Mad

12 March 2003

Here's the thing: I feel like we've gone over the edge of a cliff and discovered that we didn't have an engine in the plane, just one of those little Professor Frink bicycle/flappy dealies. So we're all pedaling like mad and flapping as hard as we can to try to keep aloft until we see somewhere softish to land. When I said this to Mark, he said, "Well, maybe we needed to lose some altitude." And I think we did -- I think it was probably dry and nasty and inhospitable on the top of the cliff. But just about now, all the pedaling is a bit wearing.

And -- oh yay -- the computer crashed yesterday. Lost two and a half scenes of the Joukahainen story. I swear I saved after the two, at least, if not the half. But it pulled up a copy of the document that started yesterday's journal entry, and I know I had closed and not saved that ages and ages ago. So, yeah. Hooray. I had been half a scene from the end. I wrote that half scene and reconstructed the other half that goes with it, and now I just have two to reconstruct before the story is done. Yuck. They were good scenes, too.

I realize that this is not the greatest tragedy ever to befall humanity. But it's not yippee-skippee fun, either. It's not like I lack for things to do and would like to spend time redoing things I've already done. Sigh.

I read Tamora Pierce's Squire on the train yesterday and finished it up last night. I am mollified. Appeased. Placated, even. Raoul was always one of my favorite characters, and I'm satisfied with the love interest provided for him (after 13 years of waiting on my part, thank you very much). I liked this book much, much better than the previous two in the series -- it reminded me of why I liked the original Alanna series without drawing too heavily on similar material. (Sarah, I wouldn't have told you to for-sure find these before, but now I do!)

I think Tamora Pierce and I must just have quite different taste in love interests, though. She seems to have a habit of surrounding her female main characters with male friends and then having the love interest be the one I find the least interesting/appealing. (In the original series: Prince Jonathan? Oh, come on.)

I started Bagthorpes Haunted last night and will probably find it a welcome change from crankiness throughout the day. I will be trying very hard not to be cranky. We'll see how well that goes, though. (Stupid computer.)

I'm also also amused on the Girl Scout cookie front. I've read some people accusing Caramel DeLites of being a name that was changed because Samoas were not politically correct; I've also read (more than once) the idea that perhaps some communities can't handle the exoticism of Samoas. I assume sarcasm from both groups. Still, since they weren't called Samoas in the first place where I came from -- and are an abomination against nature, taking the rightful caramelly place of Kookaburras -- I'm amused at the competing theories. (Also, I just got a powerful craving for Amber's coconut-free Hello Dolly bars -- she made a half-pan that way just for me. That's not the point, though. Kookaburras are the point.)

Hmm. Evidently I'm not over Kookaburras. I think I should write to the lady in the paper who finds recipes for people and see if she can find me a recipe for Kookaburras. I proposed this to Mark, and instead of delivering his proper line ("What a marvelous idea, sweetheart! Brilliant as usual!"), he frowned and said, "Do I like Kookaburras?" Well, since I haven't had them since I was 6 years old, I haven't shared any with Mark, whom I met when I was 17. So I said, "Yes! Of course you do! They're good!"

The present tense is probably optimistic here, but I, like Mrs. Bagthorpe in this book I'm reading, am an obstinate optimist.

And pedaling like crazy. And hitting the ball and dragging Charlie. Etc.

I just got spam that with the subject line, "Idiot Friendship To See." I don't know how I could possibly resist such an appealing pitch. On the other hand, I could probably find idiot friends for free, if I really wanted them. Another one said "Dark side of identity theft." As if there's a bright, cheerful, perky side to identity theft!

And on that chipper note, I'm going to seek out cleanliness, and lunch, and re-finished scenes (which doesn't actually involve varnish or sandpaper), and possibly finished cover letters, and suchlike.

Back to Novel Gazing.

And the main page.

Or the last entry.

Or the next one.

Or even send me email.