Yeah, it snowed. But not enough to even take a picture of. If school doesn’t get canceled then we can’t really call it snow.

So, to get over my disappointment, I’m gonna do this little tag. Thanks Mauizzle for thinking of me.

Here goes…

1. YOUR REAL NAME:

Melissa Francis

2. YOUR GANGSTA NAME: (first three letters of your name, plus izzle)

Melizzle. Awesome

3. YOUR “FLY Guy/Girl” NAME: (first initial of first name, first three of your last)

Mfra Um. How is that pronounced exactly?

4. YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (fav color and fav animal)

Pink Flamingo. Kinda redundant, no?

5. YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, Street you live on):

Renee Audubon *snort*

6. YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 3 letters of mom’s maiden name)

Framesmi I like this one. I’m thinking it might just be my new pen name.

7. SUPERHERO NAME: (favorite color, favorite drink)

Pink Sierra Nevada huh? Not sure that sounds very superheroy and I don’t think it sounds very appetizing either.

8. YOUR IRAQI NAME: (2nd letter of your first name, 3rd letter of your last name, any letter of your middle name, 2nd letter of your moms maiden name, 3rd letter of your dad’s middle name, 1st letter of a sibling’s first name, last letter of your moms middle name)

I don’t like this one, so I’m skipping it on the grounds of social protest.

9. YOUR STRIPPER NAME: (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/body spray)

Vanilla Bean Sounds pretty strippery to me.

10. YOUR WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother & father’s middle name)

Sue Milton. Just kill me now.

I tag: Ellen, Wolfie, Maria, Lucy

Dear Mother Nature,

I don’t ask for much. Seriously. I mean, I have daydreams about waking up one morning to discover I switched bodies with Beyonce overnight. I fantasize about winning the lotto and having a pool boy. But do I ask for these things?

Nay. I do not.

So, this morning when your minions were predicting 2 inches of snow, I experienced a little tingle of expectation. That tinge of excitement that can only be experienced by a southerner who loves snow.

Loves it, but doesn’t want to live in it.

We don’t get the white stuff often. I haven’t seen it around these parts in 2 years. Not even a hint of it. This morning, your minions said it was coming.

And like a good little southerner, I made sure I stopped by the liquor and grocery stores on my way home. Can’t get snowed in without milk, bread and bourbon. Don’t you know the rules? Apparently all of Oxford knows the rules…cuz the entire population was in aisle 9 of Kroger with me.

But what do I hear when I get home?

We’ve been downgraded to “winter weather advisory”.

Now, Mother Nature, I ask you this. How is that fair?

I beg you, please let me wake to a white yard and icy streets. I know it won’t last, but if it’s on the ground in the morning, school will be canceled and I won’t have to go to work. (I know, I know. I feel my yankee friends rolling their eyes as I type this. Sorry. But that’s how we roll down here. Even just seeing snow clouds can cause some schools to close.)

Don’t let me down, sista-gurl. I’d hate to have to send my entourage after you to teach you a lesson. I promise, it wouldn’t be pretty. Not nearly as pretty as a white blanket of snow covering my yard.

Dear Mother Nature,

I don’t ask for much. Seriously. I mean, I have daydreams about waking up one morning to discover I switched bodies with Beyonce overnight. I fantasize about winning the lotto and having a pool boy. But do I ask for these things?

Nay. I do not.

So, this morning when your minions were predicting 2 inches of snow, I experienced a little tingle of expectation. That tinge of excitement that can only be experienced by a southerner who loves snow.

Loves it, but doesn’t want to live in it.

We don’t get the white stuff often. I haven’t seen it around these parts in 2 years. Not even a hint of it. This morning, your minions said it was coming.

And like a good little southerner, I made sure I stopped by the liquor and grocery stores on my way home. Can’t get snowed in without milk, bread and bourbon. Don’t you know the rules? Apparently all of Oxford knows the rules…cuz the entire population was in aisle 9 of Kroger with me.

But what do I hear when I get home?

We’ve been downgraded to “winter weather advisory”.

Now, Mother Nature, I ask you this. How is that fair?

I beg you, please let me wake to a white yard and icy streets. I know it won’t last, but if it’s on the ground in the morning, school will be canceled and I won’t have to go to work. (I know, I know. I feel my yankee friends rolling their eyes as I type this. Sorry. But that’s how we roll down here. Even just seeing snow clouds can cause some schools to close.)

Don’t let me down, sista-gurl. I’d hate to have to send my entourage after you to teach you a lesson. I promise, it wouldn’t be pretty. Not nearly as pretty as a white blanket of snow covering my yard.

Yes, 9 years ago today, I was in the hospital begging for drugs.

Frankly, I’m too young to be the mother of a (soon-to-be) teenager and now, a 9 year old.

Happy Birthday, Rader.

Yes, 9 years ago today, I was in the hospital begging for drugs.

Frankly, I’m too young to be the mother of a (soon-to-be) teenager and now, a 9 year old.

Happy Birthday, Rader.

I haven’t been inspired by a book in a very, very long time. And I certainly haven’t been moved to write an author since I wrote SEP a while back. (no, I did NOT heckle her and make her cry at last year’s RWA Conference. No matter what LUCY says…)

But I digress…

Little Earthquakes broke my dry spell. What a fantastic and complicated novel. Heartwrenching at times…and laugh out loud funny at others. I’m so envious of Jennifer Weiner’s talent. I wanna write like that!

So, I sent her an email this morning. I’ve officially written three fan letters to authors now. The first one was to Judy Blume, after I read Forever. Then to SEP for Ain’t She Sweet. And now, Jennifer Weiner.

Also, tonight I’m running out and buying the two JW books I still haven’t read.

Does that make me a fangirl?

I haven’t been inspired by a book in a very, very long time. And I certainly haven’t been moved to write an author since I wrote SEP a while back. (no, I did NOT heckle her and make her cry at last year’s RWA Conference. No matter what LUCY says…)

But I digress…

Little Earthquakes broke my dry spell. What a fantastic and complicated novel. Heartwrenching at times…and laugh out loud funny at others. I’m so envious of Jennifer Weiner’s talent. I wanna write like that!

So, I sent her an email this morning. I’ve officially written three fan letters to authors now. The first one was to Judy Blume, after I read Forever. Then to SEP for Ain’t She Sweet. And now, Jennifer Weiner.

Also, tonight I’m running out and buying the two JW books I still haven’t read.

Does that make me a fangirl?

This morning, I was sleeping peacefully, trying to enjoy my dreams.

And I would’ve enjoyed them, except that they were dreams full of farts. Now, anyone who knows me, knows I have fart issues. I’m not a fan. Do I fart? Sure. Haven’t you seen the commercial on Nickelodeon? Everybody farts! Okay, who I’m I kidding, I’m sure you haven’t seen that commercial. But suffice it to say, it’s funny, and it lets you know that everybody farts.

But I don’t care how normal it is to fart…I still don’t like them. Fishdog says I have “ass” issues. Whatever.

Anyway, back to my fart dream…in my slumber, my damn kids keep farting. It’s a game with them, of course (as it is in real life) and the more irritated I get with them, the more they fart. Loud, juicy farts. In my dream, I keep thinking, “Well, at least they don’t smell.” Then I wonder why they don’t smell…but I digress.

Finally, I woke up about in the wee hours of the morning…and I’m still hearing the farts. COME ON! I’M AWAKE ALREADY. Then I wonder if maybe I’m still asleep. But no, I’m becoming more and more aware of my surroundings. So, why do I still hear the farting?

Because the “farts” are actually my dog’s “snores”.

Jesus. Say it with me JeeeeeeeeeeeeZuuuuuuuuuuuuuus.

Charlie is the most obnoxious snorer on earth. It’s ridiculous. And last night, his snoring sounded like obnoxious farts. No wonder they didn’t “smell”. LOL

Any of you have a snoring dog? Can you relate? Does his snoring enter your dreams as farting children? Or is that just me?

I really hate farts.

This morning, I was sleeping peacefully, trying to enjoy my dreams.

And I would’ve enjoyed them, except that they were dreams full of farts. Now, anyone who knows me, knows I have fart issues. I’m not a fan. Do I fart? Sure. Haven’t you seen the commercial on Nickelodeon? Everybody farts! Okay, who I’m I kidding, I’m sure you haven’t seen that commercial. But suffice it to say, it’s funny, and it lets you know that everybody farts.

But I don’t care how normal it is to fart…I still don’t like them. Fishdog says I have “ass” issues. Whatever.

Anyway, back to my fart dream…in my slumber, my damn kids keep farting. It’s a game with them, of course (as it is in real life) and the more irritated I get with them, the more they fart. Loud, juicy farts. In my dream, I keep thinking, “Well, at least they don’t smell.” Then I wonder why they don’t smell…but I digress.

Finally, I woke up about in the wee hours of the morning…and I’m still hearing the farts. COME ON! I’M AWAKE ALREADY. Then I wonder if maybe I’m still asleep. But no, I’m becoming more and more aware of my surroundings. So, why do I still hear the farting?

Because the “farts” are actually my dog’s “snores”.

Jesus. Say it with me JeeeeeeeeeeeeZuuuuuuuuuuuuuus.

Charlie is the most obnoxious snorer on earth. It’s ridiculous. And last night, his snoring sounded like obnoxious farts. No wonder they didn’t “smell”. LOL

Any of you have a snoring dog? Can you relate? Does his snoring enter your dreams as farting children? Or is that just me?

I really hate farts.

So, I’m back. I know you missed me.

The weekend was lovely and cold. It sleeted Saturday for a while, which sounded wonderful on the tin-roofed deck at my parents lakehouse. For a little while, I bundled up in a quilt and sat outside and just enjoyed the ting and ping above me.

I did get some writing done, but I have to say, it was almost too quiet for me. I’m obviously not one of those hermit wannabe writers who must hide away in a cave in order to be productive. My creativity seems to come on the waves of chaos. Which is a good thing, since at home, it’s never quiet.

The Fishdog is off to San Francisco this week. Hope he has a good time. 😦 the boys and I will hold down the fort while he’s gone…but we miss him already.

The chapters and writing loops are all a twitter with excitement about RWA National Conference registration, which opened Monday. I love “Nationals”. I get to see my friends, schmooze with my way cool agent and all the way cool chicks at TKA, party with my online chapter, and refill my writing well with the energy I always bring back with me. I think I’m driving this year, since parking isn’t gonna be $25 a day. Last year I elected to fly to Atlanta because my airfare was cheaper than the parking and gas would’ve been!

Any of you gonna be heading to Dallas this year with me? It’s not the most exotic of locations, but hell, we rarely leave the hotel anyway, so does the location matter? And this time, we won’t be sharing the hotel with the Mary Kay convention. But honestly, that kinda saddens me…the stories we had when we left! Awesome!

Edited to add:

by the way, I left at 2:45 on Thursday. I was sooooo close. 🙂 I didn’t have to leave at 2:00 because my committee meeting was cancelled. I drove in anyway because I had already taken the time off and I took that time to see a friend.

Also, I didn’t win squat at the horse races. Just didn’t have the good gambling juju going on.