Mondays are hard for me…but a Monday like today is especially hard.

The sun is out and the air is a crisp 54 degrees.

My patio was calling my name as I left the house this morning. It was begging me to stay and sit outside with a cup of coffee and my laptop.

I resisted. Somehow, I resisted.

It’s never easy going back to the bump and grind of the office, especially coming off a successful writing weekend. I’ve written thirty pages since last Thursday and I hate that I’m back at work, interrupting the mojo of this proposal.

This is something radically different for me. I’m working on two things at once, something I wasn’t sure I could manage. But I am. The proposal is a new genre for me (and I’m not going to talk about it too much, cuz I don’t want to jinx the mojo) and then my regular Southern Fiction story, which I’m really hoping to have completed by Jan. 1.

Okay folks…how was your weekend? Get any writing done? Favorite team win? (Woo Pig Sooie!) Have anything super special happen that you wanna share?

Mondays are hard for me…but a Monday like today is especially hard.

The sun is out and the air is a crisp 54 degrees.

My patio was calling my name as I left the house this morning. It was begging me to stay and sit outside with a cup of coffee and my laptop.

I resisted. Somehow, I resisted.

It’s never easy going back to the bump and grind of the office, especially coming off a successful writing weekend. I’ve written thirty pages since last Thursday and I hate that I’m back at work, interrupting the mojo of this proposal.

This is something radically different for me. I’m working on two things at once, something I wasn’t sure I could manage. But I am. The proposal is a new genre for me (and I’m not going to talk about it too much, cuz I don’t want to jinx the mojo) and then my regular Southern Fiction story, which I’m really hoping to have completed by Jan. 1.

Okay folks…how was your weekend? Get any writing done? Favorite team win? (Woo Pig Sooie!) Have anything super special happen that you wanna share?

I love my little piggies.

I love calling the hogs.

I love the words WOO PIG SOOIE! especially when they’re cheered out loud by 60,000+ fans.

And even though it was an ugly game to watch, I love the fact that we won. In 2 overtimes.

It wasn’t pretty. But pretty doesn’t matter when it comes to the scoreboard.

I do feel sorry for the Alabama kicker. He missed 3 field goals/point afters. And let me tell you, the game wouldn’t have gone into OT if he had hit them. But, his crappy playing is to our benefit. Sorry, dude. Your loss, our gain.

My heartfelt sadness goes out to my friend Marley Gibson. I know she’s crying into her drink as we speak. I don’t blame her. I would be crying too, if we had lost. But I’m not crying. I’m celebrating right into my bevvy.

Peace.

I love my little piggies.

I love calling the hogs.

I love the words WOO PIG SOOIE! especially when they’re cheered out loud by 60,000+ fans.

And even though it was an ugly game to watch, I love the fact that we won. In 2 overtimes.

It wasn’t pretty. But pretty doesn’t matter when it comes to the scoreboard.

I do feel sorry for the Alabama kicker. He missed 3 field goals/point afters. And let me tell you, the game wouldn’t have gone into OT if he had hit them. But, his crappy playing is to our benefit. Sorry, dude. Your loss, our gain.

My heartfelt sadness goes out to my friend Marley Gibson. I know she’s crying into her drink as we speak. I don’t blame her. I would be crying too, if we had lost. But I’m not crying. I’m celebrating right into my bevvy.

Peace.

Fishdog refers to me as twfkam in his blog.

Several of you flit over to the flophaus and take a gander every now and then and then come back and ask me what the hell twfkam means.

The Woman Formerly Known As Momma.

See, I have this thing about my husband calling me momma. I hate it. Absolutely, fucking, hate it. With one exception…when he’s talking to me for the kids. “Momma, can you help Rader with his homework while I do something manly like light the grill?” That’s fine. I have no issue with that.

But, when we’re out together, just the two of us, or we’re at home, just the two of us, or the kids are in the room but Fishdog is speaking to me about something that has nothing to do with them, or if he is blogging about me– he is no longer allowed to call me momma.

It’s been a hard adjustment for him, but he finally did manage to stop referring to me as momma in his blog. Sometime this past spring he finally got a clue. It’s only taken me twelve years to get it into his head…but hey, at least he can be taught, right?

One month ago yesterday, we put me brummie lad, Simon, on a plane home. And one month from yesterday, me wee scottish lad, Grant, will be here for a visit.

As will his real parents.

And I can’t wait.

Simon started University this week. He reported in yesterday that so far, Uni has “been mint” and he’s “sound as ever”. (that means everything is good) He’s also coaching a girl’s team on the weekends and they won their first match on Sunday. Life is good.

Fishdog and I had pizzas delivered to Grant and Nizzy in Nebraska this week. I told you that I was pretty sure they weren’t spending much money on real food, and I found out over the weekend that I was correct. Even though pizza isn’t necessarily real food, it’s at least some form of nourishment. Once a mum always a mum, it seems. Anyway, they sent me a couple of text messages thanking me profusely for the pizza. I’m thinking they were hungrier than they thought. LOL We’re gonna do it again next week, despite their argument that we’ve “done enough already”. It’s just pizza… besides, growing boys have got to eat. Especially 6′ plus strapping scottish lads!

For fall!

It barely broke 70 degrees today! The breeze is blowing steadily, the humidity is low.

And I am doing one of my favorite things: Sitting on my back patio, sipping a glass of Zolo Malbec, wearing a big sweatshirt, and writing.

I know Mother Nature is just playing with me right now. I know that in a few days, it’ll be sauna hot again. But I don’t care. Cuz right now, it’s perfect.

For fall!

It barely broke 70 degrees today! The breeze is blowing steadily, the humidity is low.

And I am doing one of my favorite things: Sitting on my back patio, sipping a glass of Zolo Malbec, wearing a big sweatshirt, and writing.

I know Mother Nature is just playing with me right now. I know that in a few days, it’ll be sauna hot again. But I don’t care. Cuz right now, it’s perfect.

With Aaron Sorkin.

Seriously.

I didn’t realize it until last night when I was watching Studio 60. I knew Sorkin created West Wing (which I loved) and which was why I had already decided to watch Studio 60. But, while we were watching I said to Fishdog…”Wow, this is some really smart dialogue. It reminds me of Sports Night. Wonder if Aaron Sorkin had anything to do with Sports Night, too?” (which I still contend is one of the smartest shows ever written…)

“Let’s IMDB it,” Fishdog says. (IMDB and Google are now our two favorite internet verbs)

I’ll be damned.

Of course he wrote Sports Night.

And guess what else? He wrote The American President…which is one of my all time favorite movies.

Oh yeah.

I’m in love with Aaron Sorkin.

With Aaron Sorkin.

Seriously.

I didn’t realize it until last night when I was watching Studio 60. I knew Sorkin created West Wing (which I loved) and which was why I had already decided to watch Studio 60. But, while we were watching I said to Fishdog…”Wow, this is some really smart dialogue. It reminds me of Sports Night. Wonder if Aaron Sorkin had anything to do with Sports Night, too?” (which I still contend is one of the smartest shows ever written…)

“Let’s IMDB it,” Fishdog says. (IMDB and Google are now our two favorite internet verbs)

I’ll be damned.

Of course he wrote Sports Night.

And guess what else? He wrote The American President…which is one of my all time favorite movies.

Oh yeah.

I’m in love with Aaron Sorkin.