NS April 8th, 2009
I have decided to write a non-fiction book. This brings up many questions:
Am I mad?
What will I write about, exactly? I have a central idea but so many directions it could go in
Where do I begin?
Do I need an agent?
If so, how do I find one?
How will I find the time?
How long will it take me?
Is this the stupidest idea ever?
Am I delusional?
Be brutally honest with me. Oh, and, if you fancy it, guess what I’m wanting to write about. I’d be interested to see what subject matter others think I could (or at least would) write a book about.
NS April 6th, 2009
This is very funny but also made me cringe as it could easily be me some days trying to park my behemoth tank of a car on my teeny, tiny, narrow street. There ain’t no way in hell I’d let a stranger park my car just because they were irritated though! My sympathies to the lady who was undoubtedly embarrassed and flustered.
It reminds me of a joke I read recently:
Q: Why are women so bad at spatial awareness?
A: Because they’ve always been told that this [hold thumb and forefinger about 3 inches apart] is seven inches
Happy Monday!
NS April 4th, 2009
It was TNC’s third birthday on Thursday. We took her to the zoo on the day but we’re having a party with family and friends tomorrow. Nothing major but I’ve done my usual trick: said I was going to make and bake a bunch of things myself and then ended up not doing them, or doing them badly. Will I ever learn? Who was I kidding when I thought I’d get enough time (or skill!) to make my own pinata and decorate two dozen cupcakes to look like sheep, like I saw in a Waitrose food magazine?! It was harrowing enough to organise the location, buy the food and decorations, get a party dress for the birthday girl, send invites and directions, and put together goodie bags for the kids. I obviously still harbor delusions of grandeur in which I am Bree Van de Kamp a la Desperate Housewives.
Not me
When, in fact, this is more like me. Or, rather, will be me at 10.55 tomorrow when the guests are getting ready to arrive and I am still slapping Betty Crocker “heart attack in a can” Vanilla Icing onto my dry, tasteless cupcakes (you suck, Waitrose food magazine) with a spork while trying to wrestle the plastic tags off of the decorations and games before passing them off as handmade.
Me
More reporting from the dark side tomorrow…
