Novel Time!

For the unaware, tomorrow is the beginning of November. November is National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). That means there is currently less than a day left before the clock begins ticking and authors all over the world begin writing. The goal is to write 50,000 words by the end of 11:59:59pm November 30th.

Click on the link, read about the challenge, join the forums, add Myth as a writing buddy, and accompany me in my crazy attempt to put thousands of words on paper/computer in 30 days while still participating in something resembling a normal life. It'll be fun! And win or lose, we can all celebrate/console each other with pizza and sweet things and parties when November finally ends.

Still not convinced? I'll do a weekly count-down on my blog, and you can feel really really good about yourself when you consistantly beat my word count. You can all watch me suffer! C'mon.. that ought to be incentive enough! (And besides; you'll make me feel happy and loved. Aww... see, I knew you'd sign up!).

More October Birthday Wishes!

Because I can get to it before the real sibling (hehehe), and he got to dear Stephenie (nevertheless, a day late happy birthday to Steph!) first..!

When I came down to TX I found myself quickly incorporated into a wonderful family and made an honorary sibling. So, I want to wish a very happy birthday (18th! Yay!) to my new, awesome younger sister.

May you be filled with joy, peace, love, and many, many blessings in this new year of your life. Happy birthday Sarah!

Oklahoma City Vicinity, OK

One More Down

I started off my weekend by getting up early on Friday (well, that was the intention, anyway), throwing some bags into the car (packing some bags to put in the car), and after a three hour drive, showing up in Houston at 10:30 (11:30) in the morning to begin the drive to Oklahoma.

Despite the slow start, my travel companions and I managed to make it to the OK City vicinity around 8:30pm, eventually made it to the last few minutes of a holy hour, and wound up at a restaurant for a late dinner with various other Ave alumni. (The excitement of the evening managed to counterbalance Detroit's depressing loss.) The general tone of the weekend remained the same; many, many Ave alumni hanging out as much as possible and celebrating an Ave wedding. We stayed with a large family of four people and six on Sunday, and one very friendly cat that I was rather unfortunately stopped from bringing home with me, mainly due to the fact that it drooled.

Oklahoma, at least the part that we drove through, is in many respects very beautiful. There was countryside; rocks, fields, flowers, hills. There were colorful trees! The stars were visible and bright at night, the weather was closer to fall weather than TX has yet produced, and there was a light and warm breeze during much of the day. We even saw signs of wildlife (fine, so it was a raccoon) while driving.

The wedding itself also went beautifully, with all of the generally understood wedding stuff occurring, and much dancing afterwards. Of special note, there was an event with the bride's bouquet that needs mentioning. You see, I managed to catch it during the traditional throwing, despite my assurance that I would not do so. It was a result of pure instinct really; there was something large coming within a close distance of my head, an event which one naturally ought to do something about, and which when combined with many years of softball skills more often leads to an easy catch than any other possible reaction. There would have been the same result had it been a shoe, a grenade, or a frightened porcupine. (At least, I assume a porcupine would be frightened if it found itself flying through the air like that.) Now, one might expect that after such an event, I would be accommodating to the perceived rules and consider being the next of the group to get married. There are certain flaws in this line of thinking. For one thing, it supposes that I generally follow the rules instead of making my own.

I can't break my own traditions, so in keeping with my own usual acts, I have no intention of following the rules here either. I intend to let every one of those other girls marry first. This may be made somewhat more difficult by the fact that I don't know who they all were and so cannot keep track, but I will not give in so easily. I will have a long and happy life with my boots, who will be extremely faithful and follow me everywhere, and will finally get married at 93 to a man who thinks my cane and five inch thick glasses are beautiful. He will probably be named Arnold, drive a yellow tractor, and have five little dogs all called Toto.

I'm Close Enough I Could Touch You; You're It!

Tag is dangerous!

They banned Red Rover while I was in elementary school. We were all extremely upset about it. There's something about running across a yard and crashing into people that was extremely enjoyable, particularly as I was good at it (there are certain benefits to being one of the tallest students in the class). Tag really doesn't seem to be on the same level as far as dangerousness goes.. then again, there's no doubt in my mind that some parents would sue if their child got hurt while playing it. And possibly even win.

This is a strange, strange world these days.

I'll Get There Eventually

I'm old. So very, very old; there's gray in my hair and a cane in my hand; I have two real teeth and a fondness for tea and cats, a collection of antique furniture that I used when I was young and could now sell for millions, and never stay up past nine at night.

Some of that may be an exaggeration, but I'm admitting nothing.

Today I am 23. Perhaps most people don't announce their own birthdays, but after all, it is my blog, and what else am I to do with it? One ought to make a big deal of the day one becomes old. I'm off to a good start celebrating by staying up far past midnight when I really should be in bed attempting to become healthy again, on the theory that others won't want to spend 6-7 hours in a car with me coughing (heaven knows why not), yet staying at a friend's house until 11:45 seemed so much more pleasant a way to spend the evening.

And then there's the fact that one of my closest friends shares a birthday with me. He's a year younger, which means he can tease me about my age, but I already claimed to be one year short of ancient (old; but still that one year short of ancient), so it's all okay - there are benefits to being in the middle of the sandwich. For one thing, the strawberry jam is quite tasty.

In regards to shared birthdays, it isn't fair sending a message before midnight, yet I have to be up and at a computer at exactly midnight to make sure I'm the first to send birthday greetings. I have to win of course. But this year he proved his ability to beat me, if not at timing, then at an equally important aspect of the tradition. Rather than a simple email, I recently found myself in posession of two emailed voicemails (three cheers for gmail) lamenting my own quick timing, wishing me a happy birthday, and singing what I believe was Happy Birthday in a language I don't want to admit not knowing. For which he received multiple points, not only for style, but for giving me the final smile of what turned out to be an enjoyable day, and also the first great joy experienced after midnight struck and my birthday actually began. And so I believe he wins.

Instead of about my birthday, I suppose this post could be about the benefits of gmail and of computers with reasonable sound systems, but I think, after all, it's actually a round-about attempt to praise this particular close friend, who is always able to make me smile and bring some joy to my day. Even if chances are that he won't ever read this post.

So, to Domenic: happy 22nd birthday! Wishing the best of days to you, and of years to come, and happiness always. Your friend, Bronwyn.