"... the king of Belgium, apparently."
Still mildly underwhelmed with this season of Doctor Who. I've always known that Ten is just as cracked as Nine was, but I don't think I've ever really grokked why. I mean, I understood what Nine's damage was and knew when to expect him to go off. I could always read the signs. But I don't grok Ten, so it never fails to surprise me when he goes from zero to nutter in about 0.3. I never see it coming.
I'm now two weeks behind in BSG, but I'll catch up at some point. And I have about five Midsomer Murders recorded. And that Kiefer Sutherland thing. With all the television I'm not watching right now, you'd think I wouldn't be 4,000 words behind already.
The joy of writing a mystery novel lies in the ability to throw a bunch of random clues into a scene with no clear picture of what they all mean, with the intention of letting my poor detective sort it all out later. On the plus side, we still only have one opening scene. On the minus side, I'm afraid that I may have inadvertently reinvented Tinkerbell. *ponders* That so wasn't in the outline.
As for the Dorkings... Spent approximately thirty minutes in a van with the lot of them. Was duly reminded why I have no desire to ever bear children of my own.
Nieceling #1: STOP IT!!! Momma! Tell him to stop it!
The Boy: I'm not doing ANYTHING to her.
Nieceling #1: He's SNORING AT ME!!!
The Boy: I'm not hurting her. Zzzzzzzzz...
Nieceling #1: STOP IT!!!
Nieceling #2: *in her prissiest voice* I'm a LADY.
Nieceling #3: I not. I a kid.
The Boy: zzzzzzz...
Nieceling #1: STOP IT!!! EEEEEEEEE!!!! *whap whap*
The Boy: HEY!!!
Nieceling #2: Ladies do not burp at the table.
Nieceling #3: I can burp. See. *buuurp*
The Boy: zzzzzzz...
Nieceling #1: STOP IT!!! STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!!!
Me: Are we almost there yet?
Mei-mei: What? Sorry, I wasn't listening.
Also, I think I'm coming down with whatever bug they've been passing around. Miserable little germ-mongers.
I'm now two weeks behind in BSG, but I'll catch up at some point. And I have about five Midsomer Murders recorded. And that Kiefer Sutherland thing. With all the television I'm not watching right now, you'd think I wouldn't be 4,000 words behind already.
The joy of writing a mystery novel lies in the ability to throw a bunch of random clues into a scene with no clear picture of what they all mean, with the intention of letting my poor detective sort it all out later. On the plus side, we still only have one opening scene. On the minus side, I'm afraid that I may have inadvertently reinvented Tinkerbell. *ponders* That so wasn't in the outline.
As for the Dorkings... Spent approximately thirty minutes in a van with the lot of them. Was duly reminded why I have no desire to ever bear children of my own.
Nieceling #1: STOP IT!!! Momma! Tell him to stop it!
The Boy: I'm not doing ANYTHING to her.
Nieceling #1: He's SNORING AT ME!!!
The Boy: I'm not hurting her. Zzzzzzzzz...
Nieceling #1: STOP IT!!!
Nieceling #2: *in her prissiest voice* I'm a LADY.
Nieceling #3: I not. I a kid.
The Boy: zzzzzzz...
Nieceling #1: STOP IT!!! EEEEEEEEE!!!! *whap whap*
The Boy: HEY!!!
Nieceling #2: Ladies do not burp at the table.
Nieceling #3: I can burp. See. *buuurp*
The Boy: zzzzzzz...
Nieceling #1: STOP IT!!! STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!!!
Me: Are we almost there yet?
Mei-mei: What? Sorry, I wasn't listening.
Also, I think I'm coming down with whatever bug they've been passing around. Miserable little germ-mongers.