Well, I didn't actually write any new words on my manuscript this week, but I pulled it up and looked at it. And brainstormed a bit. But that's about it. I know, I know, I'm going to get to it, I promise. I'm starting to get an itchy writing finger.
I had a root canal this morning and the doctor explained everything he was doing as he went along. I sort of liked that because there was no surprises. Although he called me hon, a lot, which I found odd. And my face is still tingly. I hate that feeling.
Also, my son got his LDS mission call today, so tonight he'll open it and we'll find out where he'll be serving and proselyting for two years. The envelope is sitting here on my desk. And I am not a patient woman so this is hard to have to wait until tonight.
So, that's my excuse. I've been freaked out over having a root canal and distracted by my son getting his call. (And sorry if I sound rambly. I think root canals steal brain cells.)
How did you do this week?
I'm an award-winning romantic suspense novelist, but in my free time I love to review books and my fave TV shows, as well as pass along great book deals, and eat Canadian chocolate---not necessarily in that order.
6 comments:
Is your doctor from Baltimore? People call each other "hon" all the time there.
I had a dentist in South Carolina who always called me "child," even as he told me that my own children were bad for my teeth. I didn't like that so well.
I wrote a 2750-word story. Is it a bad sign to be drowsy during revisions?
Oh, Julie! Don't you know that root canals in the upper jaw can actually drain important gray matter? Oh, no! Please tell me it wasn't in an upper tooth? Do you remember? Have you lost any short term memories?
Just kidding!
When our son, Adam's mission papers came, he was working in a boy scout camp in southern California. So Mike and I jumped in the Honda and sped off from our hot little town of Yuma to the cool mountains where Camp Mataguay lay blissfully hidden.
Three hours later when we had arrived--he wasn't there!
Adam and three other leaders had taken the afternoon off. About an hour north a fabulously huge shopping mall lured them away. Since Mike and I were dying of curiosity about Adam's mission destination, we made that drive after making an arrangement to meet him outside the theater.
Would you believe that after all that trouble, all Adam did was smile, take the big white envelope, and turned to walk away?
I could've clobbered him!!!
He towered over me by a good six inches even at nineteen years old, but I grabbed his elbow and pulled him to a stop, demanding that he open that precious envelope so we could be in on his very eventful first glimpse.
He smiled wider. I'm pretty sure he was teasing me--but not positive.
When we read the words, we were all convinced he would called to some English speaking mission. Adam had barely passed his German classes in high school. (I mean like a D- kind of passing)
We looked at each other and asked, "Where is Paraguay?"
Not only did my precious son learn Spanish fluently within those short few weeks in the Missionary Training Center, but within a few months of being in the mission field, he leaned Guanaia (sp) the native Indian language. He uses Spanish in his job as a Border Patrol agent, and to communicate with his loving Paraguayan in-laws.
My Adam's mission has continued to reap blessings on him, and on us. I'm so happy for you and your family, Julie! Keep us informed, would you?
Definitely let us know the good news!
And didn't they use some sort of anesthesia on you?(Obvs. not general!) Or give you pain meds? You probably have a very valid excuse to be loopy.
Deb--might you mean Guaraní? It's a national language of Paraguay.
Thank you Jordan! Guarani! That's it! It's an amazing language to hear. Lots of chi's and che's. Adam's in-laws speak it, especially his dad-in-law. In fact, Diana (Adam's bride) didn't understand it until she was a teenager, and her parents would speak it to each other when they didn't want their daughters to know what they were talking about. Very sneaky. While 75 percent of Paraguayan's speak Spanish, 95/97 percent speak Guarani, and when a possible contact pretended they didn't understand Spanish, Adam would smile and break into Guarani. They would be so stunned, saying no just wasn't possible. It made for a great missionary tool.
Debra, you tell a good story. You should have your own blog. =)
No word count, but you know that little Facebook tagging thing actually got me to open my manuscript and look at it. I think that's probably enough tug for me to go back to it and race through a bit more of the story.
Also, I have this writing plots book that I want to read - on top of all the other things I want to read, like the FINAL CHAPTER of the Wheel of Time, or the new Stephen King book (11/22/1963) or (Jon tries to say this under his breath) the Notebook.
Augh! I need more hours in the day. Sun, I command you to stand still! And get a little hotter to melt the snow! Okay, not too hot!
Oh and I learned a new word today : litote. It's described as being the opposite of hyperbole, where you make a massive understatement instead. Like "There's seems to be a little contention over the presidential race." "It's a little bit chilly outside." I employ this device a lot (or should I say, infrequently?) so it's good to have a word for it.
T, I have no idea where he's from, but maybe I'll just tell myself he's from there. Haha. And drowsy during revisions? Depends on the reason for it. Is it because the writing is boring? Or you didn't sleep enough? Or a combo of both? :)
Debra, it was an upper tooth, wait, what was I saying? LOL And what a fun missionary story you have! I'm glad I didn't have to chase my son down, though, or I might have just ripped it open in my frustration. :)
Jordan, I did get pain meds, but not enough apparently. *sigh*
Jon, the Notebook? That surprises me a little. :) And I agree on the sun and the snow part. Brrr.
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