No, I’m not especially happy that it’s Friday; although Friday does mean that if the ice cream truck meanders by, we’ll get us some. If…
Driving Teen has been improving her driving performance by leaps and bounds: at starting, stopping, and pretty much all points between. I no longer have to take an antacid prior to and promptly after riding with her. Hurraye!
Inertia Boy has sticky, sticky, sticky fingers. He’s seven years old…yes, he should know its wrong to steal. Operative word there was should. Does he? It’s sometimes hard to tell… Last Friday, he got off the bus clutching money. I don’t allow my kids to take money to school. Where did he get it? S’s friend bought his water bottle. Huh? The little 7 oz disposable water bottle? He insists he had three of them… I sent ONE to school with him. After a round of twenty questions and elusive answers, I gave up, called the teacher (who had fled the school grounds six minutes after school let out, big sigh), left a message, put $ in envelope, and had hubby return it when he dropped off kids on Monday morning. I have yet to learn the story about the money… Then, there’s the mysterious video games that turn up at our house. “Where’d this game come from?” I found it” “Where did you find it? You were over at Z’s. Is it Z’s game ” “I found it (said over and over, more insistently each time it is repeated). For whatever reason, the fact that it was on the floor AT Z’S HOUSE when Inertia Boy “found” it doesn’t equate to the game being Z’s??? Makes me want to scream. Instead, I find myself limiting his visits to other people’s houses AND resorting to searching his pockets when he returns.
Scooter is loving school and enjoys talking to his friends. Unfortunately, his talking is sometimes conducted during class while the teacher is talking. The school gives out a color-code for behavior every day. Green, Yellow, and Red. Needless to say, Scooter has gotten a couple of yellow blocks this week. For talking out of turn. Surprise, surprise.
But what about your writing, you ask. Well, the story was stalled before I left for vacation and I think the battery died…or perhaps the whole engine dropped out. Instead of forcing the story, I’m tossing out the 80 pages I saved (sob) from the old, faded WIP and am starting over at the beginning. But to summarize the words of Richard Anderson (in character as Oscar Goldman on the Six Million Dollar Man) — Gentle Reader, I can rebuild the story. I have the technology. The story will be better than before. Better plotted with stronger characters and and wittier dialogue. A six million dollar story? I can only hope!