My New Man Bill

I had a great Christmas. I had to work Christmas eve, but I was off Christmas. My husband bought a lot of presents for The Girl and me, then tried to tell us we didn't have any money left for us to buy him any presents, but he didn't fool me. We have plastic. That's the American way, isn't it? I had to do my part to keep the economy growing, didn't I?

My favorite presents are a musical jewelry box and a big stuffed teddy bear. That's right, a giant stuffed teddy bear. He's big and floppy and cuddly. I named him Bill DeBerre. I was a little disappointed in my jewelry box. It played Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Not a bad song, but basically it says I hate it here and can't wait to get the hell out of here, so I had to come up with alternate lyrics.


I write my little novel,
All the time.

I write my little novel
All day and then all night.



And boy is that the truth. I don't think I ever stop thinking about Sassafras. Mom is really helping polish it up. It might actually be publishable when we get done with it. I already have the sequel plotted out in my mind, but I have been too busy working on the first one to get any writing done on the sequel. The only time I was able to forget about Sassafras was Christmas eve when my niece came up. She brought her laptop, and let me read the novel she is writing. She's writing a fantasy novel, where she is the main character, and it's really good. I loved her story so much I couldn't concentrate on my story. It was very irritating trying to work on my story when I kept getting sidetracked wondering what was going to happen next in her story. So if you're reading this Linda, you better stop reading this and start writing because I want to know what happens to you next, okay?

Just Like Crack

I know what you are all saying. I can hear you muttering behind my back. "It's been almost two weeks now. When do we get to read that novel she's been teasing us about?" Well, wait no more. Well, a little more, because I'm going to write some stuff right now to drag out the suspense. What took so long was after I 'finished' the story I decided it really needed a better ending, so I gave my undercover DEA agent a case of Post Traumatic Stress syndrome. I never knew it would be so much fun writing from a crazy point of view, but I loved it. And just so you know, I already have a sequel plotted out in my mind. And I think he's going crazy in the sequel, too.

So anyway, the story is officially finished. My husband has been asking me every day when I was going to finish, and I kept telling him I needed to write a couple more lines. Just a couple of lines, just a couple of lines. I told him I sounded like a crack addict, but he said crack addicts don't do lines. He's hoping I can have it published and both of us retire to a life of leasure, but I told him don't quit his day job just yet.

And The Winner Isn't

I wrote earlier about the race to perform the first face transplant. The USA lost. This article says France kicked our ass. It wasn't a complete face transplant, just her chin, mouth, and nose, but still, score one for France.