critter corner: 2009

End of the Year Stats, Favorites and the Gifts that Suck and Blow

Better Late than Never, Rogue Toilet Paper, and Why I Hate New Years

Sorry folks. For the late blog. I wasn't even going to blog today- due to post-Christmas hangover and end-of-year blues, but then I got a message on my Facebook wall from a reader:

"I would be a lot more productive if you would just write your Monday blog post..."

So, if your productivity depends on my blog, I am up to the challenge. Wherever liberty is threatened, or productivity is suffering, I'll be there. But remember, when you judge this post, I'm doin' it on the fly.

1. Kid C and I went to church yesterday. While walking down the hall, we noticed a section of the wall that was missing it's outer sheet rock, exposing the wall innards. Apparently, it was due to a leaky pipe.

Kid C and I stopped and surveyed the damage. Kid C shook his head, and said, "What is Jesus doing to that wall?"

2. I won iPhone Solitaire 634 times. 634. Six Hundred Thirty-four. I won't tell you how many actual games I've played, because that would be just plain sad. But I will say this: My win percentage is 15.7%. So, if you're good with numbers...

3. Did I mention I hate New Years? Hate it. It's to do with the personality traits of the obsessively pessimistic. At this time of year, I can only dwell on everything I have failed to accomplish. The funk starts in early December, and continues on through days like today, where I'm sitting in a Borders, writing a book that sucks, and wondering if I can use the armrest of this comfy chair I'm sitting on to slit my wrists. It will take a lot of rubbing, and before the actual slitting occurs, I'm sure I will have third degree burns from the friction, which can only be painful...

Ummmm, dude, where was I? Maybe I shouldn't have blogged today. Bree Despain is sitting next to me, agreeing I shouldn't have blogged today.

4. On a lighter note: I saw Bree Despain's book out in the wild.

It truly is a rare occurance, since the local Barnes and Nobles keep selling out of the sucker. Way to go Bree. It appears she's good with the words, but not so good at keeping her toilet paper inside her restroom stall.

As I was taking this picture, a teenage girl walked into the room and gave me (camera in hand) a curious stare. I pointed to the roll of rogue toilet paper and said, "Take it! Do you know who it belongs to? Bree Frakkin Despain. Take it and sell it on eBay!"

She didn't take it. Guess she hasn't read the book yet...

How was everyone's Christmas?

Does Anyone know what Periwinkle even looks like?

Dark Divine Trailer, and Kid C's theories on the Afterlife

Our Annual Holiday Book List Compiled... and Can You Believe James Dashner asked me to "Fetch"?

Let's All Make A Christmas Book List

Fine. I'm a Liar Pants on Fire.

1. My friend gave me a Christmas card that I thought was hilarious. It showed her three young sons, hands clasped together, eyes closed.Below the picture, large bold words read, "We Are Praying for Your Salvation." I couldn't stop laughing. Apparently some people thought she was serious.Speaking of which, I am finally done writing our Christmas Cards. If you want one, send me an email with your address. (Email address in sidebar).2. I'm a Big Fat Liar.Emily Wing Smith has long been wary of my truth-telling ability, but I learned at our Writer's Retreat that she officially thinks I'm a big fat liar. Her reasoning is two-fold.a) I tried to pass off my first attempt to darken my hair as "brunette".b) During an intense Scattergories battle, I tried to convince her a "grouper" (the fish) was an amphibian.

(Grouper- Not an Amphibian)

In my defense, my hair looked brunette to me, and then when Scattergories asked for an amphibian starting with a "g", "grouper" was the first thing that came to mind. I should've said "guppy".But now, Emily thinks everything that comes out of my mouth should be questioned.Ex:me: "I'm fine with the air mattress."Em: "I don't believe you. Take the couch."me: "Okay, I'm fine with the couch."At this point her head exploded as she tried to figure out which one was the lie.To be fair to Emily, I did lie to her on purpose once. When we were in L.A., she confessed she was deathly afraid of an earthquake hitting us while we were in the hotel.So I told her that's ridonkulus and I explained why. Our hotel was curved like a half-moon, and this meant our hotel was convex, and everyone knows that in an earthquake, the convex buildings are the most structurally sound, so she didn't have to worry about the building crumbling down.

(Our hotel. From the Concave side)

I would've gotten away with it, but she kept asking me in earnest if it was true. I had to admit it was just a working theory of mine. But I wanted to make her feel better. Does that really count as lying?3. BFF Bree Despain's book The Dark Divine comes out in 10 days. Have you entered her Huge Frakkin' Giveaway? She's got some seriously cool prizes and the contest ends today, so go check it out. (Of course, stay here til the end of the post, leave a comment, and then go check it out). 4. I would like to reach 100 public followers for Christmas. Can anyone help me pull that off? I only need six more...

Stealing from All-A-Dollar... Does it get Whiter Trashier than that?

Yay Friday, Y'all.

1. I'm slowly making my way through the entries in the Free Query/First Page Friday Challenge, so if you've sent me something, they are getting done. On a first come first served basis.Here's an excerpt from Cam Ballou's entry.I know what you are thinking, how horrible that sounds…someone praying for death when, on the outside, they don’t have a thing in the world to be unhappy about. In my defense, I am only trying to eat myself to death, which all in all is a very long and drawn out method of suicide which will likely only result in high cholesterol, diabetes, heart problems, cancer and obesity and get me nowhere.I think this is a great example of "voice". Every editor and agent talks about voice, but it's very hard to explain other than to say "I know it when I see it." For me, when I read this, I don't hear the writer; I only hear the main character with a glimpse into her life.Anyone else want to define "voice"?2. Alice Pope from Children's Writers and Illustrators Market spotlighted me, Bree Despain and Emily Wing Smith on her blog. Check it out if you get a chance.3. I've been finding those mini bottles of Diet Coke, which make me feel like I'm ingesting less of the hard stuff.But then, I went to All-A-Dollar, and guess what I found? Mini old-fashioned Coke glasses! Can you believe it? It's a Christmas Miracle.

(Love Lift Us Up Where We Belong)

I grab 40 of them, and remark to the woman next to me, "Can you believe the treasures here?"

And she's all, "You're blocking the Smershey's Shmocolate Kisses. Can you be crazy somewhere else?"I pack the glasses tightly into the store basket, and I receive permission from the manager to take the basket off the premises and to my car. But once I'm at my car, I realize I can't have these loose little gems rolling around everywhere on the drive home, and possibly breaking.What would you do?Me too. I stole the shopping basket from the Dollar Store. Aside from placing dirty diapers in our porch planters, this is the most white-trashy thing I've done.4. Sam and I came out of a family Christmas party to see Kid B, asleep in the car like this:

That's gotta win some award, doesn't it?5. I was checking out the search terms that lead to my blog the other day. I found "alien boobs."First off, I have never blogged about alien boobs. Second, *who types this as a search term? I mean, seriously?*If this was you, I apologize.7. So, what are y'all doing this weekend?

Being a Brunette is Hard... People get hurt.

Whoa. Late start today.So, on to the hair. You may recall that Bree Despain said I lacked the skillz needed to pull off being a brunette. She threw down her gauntlet (a ski glove) and I picked it up and slapped her cheek with it.It was on. I tried. I'm telling you here and now, I really tried. But after the first attempt, there was some argument as to whether or not I was truly brunette.Here's a pic the day after I got my hair done with some of the writer peeps and my cousin Debbie and her blogger/writer friends. I admit, I can see why a select few thought I was still blond. (I'm the brunette on the left toward the back).

(Olivia, Heidi, me Emily Wing Smith, Sara B., Valynne N., Bree Despain, Debbie)

So I decided to try again. But I ran into another issue most everyone faces when they are making the jump from blond to brunette: If I go any darker, how will people be able to tell me apart from Sara Zarr?

(Sara Zarr, me)

Aside from the hair, we're practically twins, from our tiny little ears to our expressive eyebrows.Despite this, I decided to go darker anyway. I've always wanted a twin sister. Sara will be so pleased.So the writer peeps and I scoured the aisles of Walmart until we found the perfect shade for brunette virgins. Emily and Valynne got in on the coloring action too.

After the 2nd attempt to become brunette, my hair ended up... dark dark dark blond. Which I thought would be okay, until I got a peek at the result under the harsh flourescent lights of Walmart, and nearly popped my gizzard. I was pretty sure I'd seen the same shade of blond/brown caked onto the soles of my husband's shoes.Even the lady at the checkout treated me differently. She took one look at my hair, and said, "You're gonna have to push the 'okay' button on the credit card machine extra hard."me: "Why? Is it because I'm a brunette, and life is just more difficult for brunettes?"her: "Lady, that ain't brunette."Then my hand got caught in the twisty-turny bag thingee, because apparently brunettes are clumsier too.

Emily dressed the wound, and told me I needed to disinfect it immediately since the injury was sustained at Walmart, and that means there was a 98% chance I'd lose the hand.I raced back to the house, and, being the calm rational person that I am, grabbed the remains of Emily Wing Smith's coloring bottle and tried to go dark a third time. THREE TIMES.The result? Red.I know. I thought it was successful too. 4 out of 5 writer peeps liked it. (The dissenter was Bree Despain, who believes as much as I try, I will never grow the cajones needed to be a brunette. She also believes hair is a precious commodity, and what I had done to mine was tantamount to inflation. Upon seeing the color, she said, "Why do you hate hair? Why??!!")But my blond hair is still rejecting the color. After 24 hours, the red/brown had already faded to this:And this morning, I found some blond hairs peeking through.Fine. I admit it. I have no idea how to go brunette.How's y'all's week going? It's 6 degrees here in SLC and I can tell you from personal experience that brunettes don't do well in the cold.

Beautiful Creatures Launch Party

Sorry so late today! I spent the morning driving home from my writer's retreat through a blizzard...

1. So, Free Query/First Page Friday was a huge success. I received more entries than I thought I would, and I can’t wait to read them all. Early trends: fantasy.I thought it would be fun to share some tidbits from the samples in the next few weeks. (Don’t worry... if you sent me something I won’t share anything without permission). Here’s the first line from Jenilyn Tolley’s page:“I used to believe that my real mom was a stripper.”I remember reading her first page at BYU over the summer, and I thought, Why would someone think that? Made me read on.2. We went to the launch party for Beautiful Creatures the other night. The book is getting great reviews, and it’s already been optioned for a movie. I’m about halfway through and savoring the gothic southern tale. What makes it even better is that the two authors, Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl, are two of the coolest women around. I first met them when they recruited me to participate in a Writing Partners project where we exchange writing samples with a 4th grade elementary class.

(Kami, Margie, Me)

Other shenanigans at the party:*In a unanimous vote, nobody thought my newly-darkened hair is brunette, so I vowed to show them. Show them all. (We played with color at my writer's retreat. I will unveil the new hair on Wednesday. Please don’t tell my mom I used store coloring kits without adult supervision. She’d kill me.)*We met a book blogger of Tongan heritage. Emily Wing Smith said she knew Kika was Tongan because she was wearing flip-flops. (Emily is a friend of the Tongans, and has learned this little secret.)

(Sara Zarr, Valynne, Emily, Me, Bree, James Dashner, Kika, Kika's Friend)

*When Kika said she was an accounting major, I accidentally said, "Oh, that's great. If accounting were actually fun, I'd like it." Sorry Kika. And all of you accounting majors.*Sara accused Emily of making sweeping generalizations about Tongan footwear, to which Emily responded by swiping her with my Pashmina shawl.*We met Robbie the "boy with books" blogger. He told me that during a “which Glee character are you?” discussion, he was voted most like Rachel. He also gave Beautiful Creatures 5 stars.

(Emily, Sara Z., Heather Gardner, me, and blanket of Robbie)

*We went to dinner with Utah’s number one book blogger, Natasha Maw. She ate the last appetizer, even though I made her aware of my diabolical plan to steal it. It was like I told her, she shrugged and reached across the table to grab it and eat it. *We discovered that Sara Zarr’s happy face looks the same as Sara Zarr’s annoyed face, except for a slight arch in the eyebrows.

(Sara Z. happy, and Heather Gardner)

*Apparently we all need hearing aids. When Emily told us she bought Sara Z. "Jesus Pens", I heard "Jesus Pets". I was a little surprised Emily would purchase a Jesus-themed Chia Pet.*When I told Bree and Valynne they had "Thick boots on", they heard "thick boobs on." For some reason, they didn't question me about it. Apparently, That sounds just like something I would say.*At dinner, when the waitress commented on my cool phone cover, I told her I bought it to match my brunette hair, and she didn't bat an eye. (Is it bat an eye, or an eyelash?) Anyway, so she totally thought I was brunette. And I trust random waitress girl over writer chicas.*Somebody at the party kept spontaneously forcing his 2-year old to do pushups.*Okay, it was James.

So, I dyed my hair twice last night at our writer's retreat, despite Bree Despain's best efforts to convince me Hair is a Many Splendored Thing.I will say this: the hair resists brown. It does, however, prefer red. Can't wait to show you all the pictures. It's a good thing my mom doesn't read my blog...

Do you Have a Query or First Page you'd like to Share? and The True Meaning of Gauntlet.

Free Query Friday1. To fill the void left by Free Book Friday Holiday Hiatus: Do You Have a Query or a First Page you'd like me to read?Occasionally I get asked to read queries or manuscripts, and too often I don't have the time, or I'm not able to get it done in a timely manner, or people realize I just can't read good.But I thought it'd be a fun holiday experiment to change that. So, if you'd like me to read your query or first page, send it on over. You can even request "no feedback" if you'd just like to share it with me.I hesitate to call it a present, because that implies my feedback is worth something. But I will say sometimes, as writers, we need to bounce stuff off someone who doesn't know a thing about the story.So, I'm opening it up now. Email me your query or first page, or any other one-page piece you've been working on. Share. Tis the season for sharing and stepping out of your comfort zone. (My personal favorite Christmas Carol- "Step out of your Comfort Zone this Season")My email is on the sidebar. It will remain anonymous. Nobody has to know. And if I get some good ones, maybe I'll post them and we can discuss why they're so good.It's a challenge! Will you take the gauntlet? (Which, by the way, I always thought a gauntlet was some sort of weapon, like a sword, but it's really a glove. Did you know that? Me neither. So I've been trying to use it in a sentence: "Boy, it sure is gauntlet- weather out there. It's so cold.")2. Kid C brought home his latest self-portrait from school: It's cute and all, but it sorta makes me worried I'm going to walk into his bedroom one day and find an ear lying there on the floor.3. I live in Utah, so I found this funny:(There are some adult references... it's a prime-time show. Viewer discretion advised.)

4. I'm going to a book launch party today for Beautiful Creatures, so I will stock up on signed copies for when Free Book Friday gets going again in January.5. Next week we'll begin compiling our lists for good books to give away as presents, so be thinking!Anyone doing anything fun this weekend? I have a family party, a family party, and a family party.

The Placenta that Never Died

Hey Y'all. How's the week going?1. I don't kill puppies on my blogLet's just get this out of the way right now... Puppies will never die on my blog. Spiders may die, plants that grow through walls may die, but newborn puppies will never die. Not on my blog. Not on my watch.Wherever there's injustice to puppies, you'll find me.Wherever puppies are suffering, I'll be there.Wherever liberty is threatened, you will find... The Three Amigos. (Why would I go somewhere where liberty is threatened?)2. Do you want a little parental leverage for Christmas?My friend developed this iPhone app called SantaMessage2U. You can record messages to your kids, and the app will distort your voice to sound like Santa.I like to record messages like: "Ho Ho Ho. Hey kid C, Santa is watching you. No, seriously, I'm outside your window every night, watching you. Ho... ho... ho..."3. The Placenta that Never DiedAfter sis-in-law M gave birth to twins, the hospital took her placenta to test whether or not the twins were identical. They never got back to her, so she had the twins' DNA tested to confirm what anyone with two working eyes could figure out: niece E and niece E are indeed identical.About a year later, a friend who worked in the hospital told sis-in-law M that some hospital employees were going through the fridge at work, and they were all, "Who in the world is Marnie Jorgensen, and what is her placenta doing here?" (I changed M's name to protect the placenta.)Yep. Her placenta was just hangin' out in the fridge for a year. And I'll tell you now, placenta doesn't keep that long.This post brought to you by the commenter who pointed out I haven't blogged about bodily functions in a while.4. Starting Friday, I'm going to be posting about book choices for Christmas Presents, so start thinking about your favorite books you've read this year.5. You wanna know who gets forgotten at Christmas? Teens in the Foster program. This year, instead of buying presents for my family, I'm donating to Very Merry Teen Foster Christmas.Don't tell my family, though. I still want them to think they have to buy me presents.Check it out, if you get a chance. It really is so much easier than shopping. And it's one of those things your family can't say 'no' to. For instance: "Hey Bob, I was thinking we should forgo presents to each other this year, and instead provide Christmas for Foster Teens. What do you think?"What can Bob say? Bob: "No way.""Bob, why do you hate teens? Why?"6. So, what do your families do for Christmas? Anything like this?

Life at the Ranch is Hard. Sometimes Puppies Die. *Added: But no Puppies Die in this Post!

Howdy y'all!Welcome back. Anyone else so excited school resumes today?Life on a Ranch is HardWe went down to Sam's Uncle's ranch in central Utah for Thanksgiving. It's difficult to describe the ranch, because in the middle of this stark rugged terrain is a little oasis with three ranch houses, a shooting range, wine-fry (wi-fi), satellite television and warm water. Ranch Life is Hard. Everyone kept reminding me of this fact over and over. And over: We have to hand mash the potatoes... We have to restore the art on the Indian Art Rock. (It's okay that we're messing with centuries-old artifacts... we totally know what we're doing with our crayons.) There are grates on the ground to keep little boys out. (Kid B only fell through once.) Every so often, you have to fight the urge to throw a little kid off the cliff...

If you wanna eat, you have to know how to handle a gun... Here are the women, performing the most essential task for any Thanksgiving dinner... That's right. We're shooting the stuffing. (Stuffing doesn't usually put up much of a fight. But you should see the jello. Fast little sucker.) After dinner, the natives come over to perform a traditional rain dance. (Who knew rain dances included karate kicks, and a background song of "Everybody was Kung Fu Fightin'?) Since these girls kept accidentally aiming at Uncle Glendon during a gun lesson, he only allowed them to shoot with their fingers. He told them this was how the cowboys of yore did it. Even newborn pups have it hard on the Ranch. Look closely at the picture below... Do you see the little white pup, closest to the dog's face? That little pup's neck was caught inside the steel ring of the collar on the mama dog. The poor thing was choking, and every time the mother turned her head, the pup would be whipped about. So I totally freak out. The mother won't let us anywhere near her because she doesn't know us, so Bro-in-law Ed sends his two youngest daughters to get the rancher Adam.

(Here's Adam, thinking, "When are the city folk just gonna leave us in peace?")

The kids run off, and Ed's all, "He's dead. It's too late." I'm all, "Don't say that! He's alive!" The kids return with a message from Adam. He says: "Just turn him over."Hunh? What kind of advice is that? (We found out later the girls told Adam, "There's a puppy on his back, and his legs are sticking up in the air." Which I guess would warrant the "Okay, so turn him over" advice.) This time, Ed's clear. He tells the two girls to tell Adam to, "Get his butt over here."The message takes a little longer to deliver, because the girls are unsure whether or not they can really say the word "butt" without repercussions, but finally Adam shows up and coaxes the dog out, and yanks the little puppy neck to freedom and saves the day. I later found out that upon hearing the news that the puppy neck was about to be snapped, the ranch hands sorta shrugged their shoulders and said, "Ranch life is hard." Grrrr. I know this.It's raise cattle, hunt for food, water-shortage, dry, dusty, dirty boogers, farmer blow tough. I know that sometimes the cattle leave, and they don't come back, and they're not going to a spa.But come on! Does ranch life have to be "Newborn Puppy hanging by its neck, choking indefinitely, just needing a little nudge that nobody will give" hard? Apparently yes. The mother promptly ate the baby. Punishment for getting its neck caught. Because ranch life is hard.*Update: Just to be clear, the dog did NOT eat the puppy. This is how mothers transport their little ones. I promise. Here's Adam right before he yanked Kid B off the horse by his leg and threw him across the arena. Because ranch life is hard.I jest. There was no kid-throwing of any kind. The puppy lived to face another hard day on the ranch. My job was done. I tipped my hat to the ladies and sauntered off into the sunset.So how was all y'all's Thanksgiving?

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