Ho Ho WriMo!
Somehow I made it through November relatively unscathed. And, I learned a lot about myself and how I write. An odd pattern developed during the month. For one thing, I never wrote a single word on a Tuesday all month long. Not one. And then, on Sundays, I could churn out 2,000 to 3,000 words without breaking a sweat. Every week.
Weird facts like this make me wonder if I shouldn't succumb to the natural pattern I was falling into and plan my future writing around such facts.
A new Starbucks opened up in Monaca recently. Not just a cafe inside Barnes & Noble (although I like those too--books and coffee, a killer combo), but an actual Starbucks, with good hours. I've been in there with my little blue AlphaSmart (whom I am calling Dame Edna, for lack of a better name) twice now, sipping venti Breakfast Blends for an hour, typing new material on the NaNo novel. Happy me. Except that the same worker noticed me today and, as she walked by my table (same table as the first time), she said, "I remember you! You're here again!" in a nice, happy way.
I'm betting she recognized Dame Edna first. After all, how many adults carry these little weird things around in public? Which is why I'm saving my pennies (and any Christmas money that falls in my lap) to get a Neo model as soon as possible. It has wonderful added features over the model I'm using now. And if I start into another of my rants about these little gadgets, I think I'm going to have to insist that the AlphaSmart people pay me a commission.
My folks have been here in western Pennsylvania for nearly two months already. So far, it's worked out well. They know not to stop by any time before 10 a.m., and I know not to call their house any time after 9 p.m. Once we got the night owl/morning person thing cleared up, everything else just seemed to fall into place. And I find I'm truly enjoying having them in the same county with me. Perfect timing, too: holidays upon us, etc. Plus, it's fun to hear Las Vegas folks say things like, "Gee, it's cold!" fifty times in one sitting. Remember, my dad is the same guy who, when he moved to Vegas ten years ago, would say things like, "Gee, it's hot!"
As my mother would say, "Yes, John, you live in a desert, remember?" So, now, when she says it's cold (while wearing twelve layers of clothing), it's fun to just shake my head at her and roll my eyes. Silly mommy.
Then again, I have a husband who will spend most of the winter going barefoot around the house, wearing shorts and T-shirts and turning the heat up to 74 degrees. The logic of this escapes me. Apparently he hasn't been poor long enough to know that you're supposed to add another eleven layers of clothing, ear muffs, and big, fuzzy slippers. And brew another pot of coffee.
He could take some lessons from my mother on how to keep warm. She's an expert. Just not in Pennsylvania.