So last week a post by the always cool Shay Fabbro was "brought to us by the letter P". She listed ten things she loved that began with P and said if you left her a comment, she'd give you a letter of your own. She was true to her word, and my letter is D.
Coming up with ten things that start with D was harder than you'd think. Seriously. Here goes:
1. Dunn (because it's my maiden name)
2. Mr. Darcy (well duh)
3. Dogs (a picture's worth 1000 words)
4. Dysfunctional (because that's how I live)
5. Daydreams (because that's how I survive #4)
6. Delicious (because it refers to food, and I'ma lova mah grub)
7. Daredevil (because if it doesn't scare you a little, it's probably not worth doing)
8. Dancing (because you're never too old...right Tami?)
9. Daughter (because everyone needs a daughter to keep them honest...right Sara?)
10. Daybreak (because it means you get another chance)
Now leave me a comment and I'll assign YOU a letter. Good luck!
Speaking of luck, my friend and fellow Black Opal Books author Jami Gray tagged me with the Lucky 7 meme. The rules are pretty simple...
- go to page 7 or 77 in your current manuscript
- go to line 7
- post on your blog the next 7 lines, or sentences, as they are
- tag 7 other people to do the same
My current WIP doesn't have 77 pages (yet), but here are 7 lines (or maybe 8, I lost count) from page 7 of a piece I'm calling Hell...The Story. Ophelia Rand and her friends Sally Serpent and Jimmy the Ghost are sitting in the lobby of the Hell Hotel, wondering why one of Hell's Escorts tried to bring a live one through. And, I'm not exactly sure where I'm going with this, either. ;)
I came around in front of my desk, leaning back to rest my butt cheeks on the edge of the marble top. Under our feet, the tile floor showed a naked couple in a garden, circled by the feathers of a giant peacock. My feet were right by the peacock’s eye. “Makes me wonder what Leon’s up to.”
“Losing it,” Jimmy said.
“Yeah, dude must be like a thousand years old.” Sally shifted again so she could lean back against the arm of the couch and drape her legs over Jimmy’s lap. He put a hand on her thigh, letting it slide up to the hem of her skirt, which was way too high. Around me, the billowy silks started shifting to darker colors, deep ruby and gold and forest green.Now the rules say I'm supposed to tag seven other bloggers, but that seems so dictatorial, right? So, if you want to play, consider yourself tagged. ;) Grab the Lucky 7 graphic and post your seven lines. Just make sure to ping me so I know to take a look, okay?
We Have A Winner
Last Wednesday, Diana Brandmeyer was my guest with a fun & informative post about living a gluten-free life. Check here if you missed it. At the end of her post, she said that she'd give a copy of one of her books to a lucky commenter. The winner was Tam Linsey, and while I'll hook the two of them up via email, I wanted to announce it here, too. Congratulations Tam! You'll be able to choose either Diana's nonfiction book, We're Not Blended, We're Pureed or her romance, A Bride's Dilemma.
Let me set the scene...
I was driving my 14 year old daughter to her choir practice this afternoon. We were stuck in traffic on I5 and the radio wasn't playing something she could sing to.
R: Mom, can I ask you something?
Me: Um, okay.
(quickly thinking, I HATE that question. Can I trade you in for a 2-year-old, because they're just EASIER)
R: How come I look Asian?
(Now, for reals, if we lived in Hawaii, most people would assume she was hapa - her eyes have heavy lids and she has high cheekbones and she could be part Japanese or something. She's not. We're French, Irish, German, etc... I have NO idea why her eyes look sort of Asian.)
Me: Why? (thinking. your father really is your father, child; also thinking, this is important why?)
R: Two kids asked me what race I was at school today.
Me: (thinking something articulate like, Goddam kids) Well, supposedly your Grandfather's family has some Native American mixed in somewhere. Just tell them you're part Native American.
R: (sitting up a little straighter) Cool.
And that, friends, is the beauty of Middle School. On the one hand, one stupid question can ruin your day. On the other, Mom can still fix it with a few words. If she's lucky.