Greetings, foolish mortals. Sebastian Thunderpaws Hart-Bowling here, bringing you all the stuff for the week that was. Writer Chick is a little salty today, for a couple of reasons. First, as this week’s post title will attest, she and Other Writer Chick are not at the New England Romance Writers of America conference. Conferences are Extroverted Writer Christmas, so Writer Chick is not keen on missing one, and certainly not on missing two in a row. It’s the in a row part that makes her extra salty, because this is also the anniversary of Turbo Move 2018, we are still in For-Now Apartment, and Skye is on the other side of Rainbow Bridge.
I can’t blame her for the saltiness, the above taken into consideration, and the aggravating factors that various humans around here have been feeling less than spiffy (everyone moving in a spiffier direction, so that’s a plus) and because, due to aforementioned less than spiffiness, Writer Chick misplaced the laundry quarters, and has been looking for them for three entire days, while the amount of available clothing dwindled and/or got stinkier. Times like this, I am glad I am stuffed. Also a naturalist, although Writer Chick did, in her search for the quarters, find my badbutt pants/sarong, so that may come back. We’ll see. Anyway, Other Chick took matters into her own hands and got more quarters, so Writer Chick can settle down and do some laundry. Also some reading, because Dude will be at his snazzy new job, and Other Dhick will be visiting Other Chick’s Mom for the whole weekend. Writer Chick plans to clean and read, and there will probably be some writing in there, because Writer Chick is Writer Chick.
Speaking of which, let’s get the compulsories out of the way. Last week, as always, Writer Chcik was at Buried Under Romance, talking about the romance of rereading. If you want to read about that, it’s here. I can’t link the photo from Writer Chick’s file, because she went on a decluttering the hard drive spree, and got a little enthusiastic. Instead, you get her name badge from a previous conference.
Feast your eyes on those, because conference attendees will get to see those badges (or reasonable facsimilies) and the writers wearing them, in person next year. Like these chicks are going to miss a conference when they have a brand new novel out. Pfft. Yeah, They’re talking website stuff and planning on swag, because they want to hit the ground running. At least Writer Chick plans to turn up in red heels, like the ones on the cover. Maybe I can convince Writer Chick to bring me along, since I am an essential part of the team. Try doing that with a poo cat, and you’ll regret it, that’s for darned sure. If the badge wallets are blue again next year, they should set off my orange fur to purr-fection (yeah, I went there.)
In other news, thanks to Other Chick’s work, we now have a pepper plant. I am not sure about him yet. Tudor is getting super tall, no longer exactly climbing the window, but his leaves are looking good, although there are no signs of any more buds as of yet. Lancaster seems to like having his own room (he is in the bedroom now, where he is the only plant, and gets all his sunlight.) He’s still short (may just be a short dude, no shame in that) and no buds to speak of, but it’s early days for this kind of thing.
Notebook-wise, Writer Chick has finally clicked with Li’l Pink, and figured out what she wants to to with the passport sized Junque Journal, from Yellow Paper House, that she put in the first string. Yes, that is the cover for Chasing Prince Charming on the back cover of that insert. Writer Chcik is kind of in love with that cover. Now she’s making eyes at the cahier size Junque Journal that she hasn’t broken in yet (except for the cover.) It’s a good thing playing with papers like this gets her idea hamster running (mmmm, hamsters :drools:) She and Other Writer Chick had an especially good Skype session this past week, and are excited about moving forward. The handsome orange poo cat in their book is going to figure prominently in the next couple of chapters. I should warn gentle readers now, there may be graphic descriptions of petting and scritches, and I can’t guarantee that nobody is going to use the Y word. That’s “yowl,” for those who do not speak fluent feline.
Since Writer Chick will not be at NECRWA this weekend, she would like those who are attending to have an extra good time on her behalf, and will be very happy to listen to conference stories, look at pictures, including but not limited to swag pron.If she ends up putting books on her seat at every meal this weekend, well, who can blame her? Some rituals must be observed, even at a distance.
Peace Out,
Typing With Wet Nails 