Alfred & Stephen King

I think Google changes my login info every time I log out. I love that there's a little warning box each time, like my own personal butler, Alfred, to tilt his head and "tsk, tsk" me each time. "Oooh...are you sure that's the password you want to enter? *cringing face* It's not what you typed in last time. *whispering and leaning in closer* I'd try something else first, if I were you." (I think my Alfred may be gay.) It would be more useful if he'd just remember the password for me.
It's cold. Again. I'm thinking of making the inflatable bed a permanent part of our living room arrangement. We'll all just recline while we eat and hang out, like the ancient Greeks and Romans. I think we could make it fashionable. Speaking of which, I think we should go back to dressing like them as well. I feel like the last few decades have spewed themselves back onto the shelves in some sort of awful, mismatched assortment of ripped jeans and tie-dye and flannel and leg warmers. I'm not really sure what's going on there, but I don't want to be a part of it and Miley Cyrus can't make me. Though, Alice in Wonderland is cool again and quite frankly, I'm more than a little excited about that.
The books got the best of me yesterday and I've had trouble putting them down, just as I knew I would. I love Stephen King for so many reasons (and I won't go into all of them, or we'll be here for hours) but the thing I love the very most is that he is the only author who uses the intro as a chance to have a conversation with his "Constant Reader" (an especially un-facied up conversation with profanity and vulgarity when necessary) and update you on the goings-on in the King household and whatnot and then includes all his notes about where he was and what he was doing when he wrote whatever it was. If I may steal your opening, Mr. King, in Just After Sunset he concludes the intro with this:
"And now, let me get out of your way. But before I go, I want to thank you for coming. Would I still do what I do if you didn't? Yes, indeed I would. Because it makes me happy when the words fall together and the picture comes and the make-believe people do things that delight me. But it's better with you, Constant Reader. Always better with you."
How can you not love this man? Reading him makes me want to write, and writing nearly always leads me straight back to reading. It's a vicious cycle.

Back in the saddle

I'm back by popular demand [insert fanfare here.] I will spare the details of the domino effect stomach virus, in the midst of the water main leak/repair in our front yard. (Besides, I tried writing about it a couple of weeks ago and it was eaten by that notorious internet email/blog eater, second cousin to the sock gnome. I shall call him Harold from this point forward.) Since that time, Kasey has gotten sick not once, but twice, Josh had a vesectomy, and Zac is going through bronchitis/pneumonia round 2. Today, I have a migraine and I have spent the last 3 hours lying on our inflatable mattress in the living room, eating, watching old movies and of course, feeding my Facebook addiction. I have a stack of books from the library whispering my name from the coffeetable, but I've successfully ignored them thus far. I haven't worked on any real writing in weeks either. I need some motivation.
I'm ready for Spring. I want warm breezes and open windows and digging in the dirt. I've been compiling a list of all the things I want to do with the kids this summer: museums and gardening and ice skating and weekend road trips and a million visits to the zoo and the aquarium. I think Zac may be old enough to do some of the behind-the-scenes zoo clinics this year. We're also going to try a new fruit and a new vegetable each week, in hopes that we find SOMETHING they'll eat. Last night, I let them squeeze oranges into glasses and Zac said "It tastes just like orange juice!" Yeah, we definitely have some work to do.