By George! What do you think, Mrs. Fitzherbert?
You all have been asking what Mrs. Fitzherbert thought of the way people saw her marriage to George. Well, Mr. Al finally gets around to telling us. Way to keep us hanging, Mr. Al.
Mrs. the Princess of Wales (sort of) was not pleased at all. According to sources she was “deeply afflicted and furious against Fox.” Since she was not a stupid woman the only explanation for her anger, beyond the fact that she never liked Fox in the first place, was that the Prince had lied to her about Fox knowing they were married.
Which he had. Not that he was going to cop to it. Instead, he stomped around denouncing Fox for his perfidy. Said one witness to the spectacle, he was “LIKE A MAD THING” How dare Fox deny his marriage! And in such a public fashion! You can’t trust anyone these days!
At this point we must ask a question. What was Mrs Fitzherbert thinking when she married the Prince? Yes, she loved him and believed that he loved her. He most likely did, in his own limited fashion. But, and this is a big “But”, she must have known the marriage was illegal. Her boyfriend wasn’t any old guy; he was the Prince of Wales.
It is true that the Pope had written to her telling her that if she and the prince married in a proper Catholic ceremony the church would recognize them as man and wife. That would have been great if the Prince planned to renounce all and he and Mrs Fitzherbert spend the rest of their lives in Rome.
That was not the Prince’s plan. To say the least. He wanted to be king. Mrs Fitzherbert knew that. She also knew, or should have, that the only way he could become king is by publicly denying his marriage to her. One of the king’s brothers had been banished from England for taking a Catholic woman as a mistress. What did she think His Majesty would do when he found out one of his boys had MARRIED one?
She knew all this and yet vilified Fox for doing the only thing that would guarantee the Prince his throne. And His Highness, in an astounding display of hypocrisy, went along with her stamping his slippered feet and cursing Fox as a false friend.
He apparently did this to make Mrs Fitzherbert feel better. And that, apparently, was all the Prince had in mind at the time. However, since the humiliation had been publicly delivered, some sort of public statement would have to made for the sake of Mrs Fitzherberts peace of mind.
She told the prince this. She also told him he would be sleeping on the couch until it happened. This placed His Highness in a very difficult position. He knew full well why Fox did what he did, but he couldn’t show Mrs Fitzherbert that he approved. Now he had to get Fox to eat crow, in Parliament, in full view of his peers and the press, so that Mrs Fitzherbert wouldn’t make him sleep on the couch. There were limits to friendship, and the Prince had reached his with Fox.
ADD
Last week I learned that my daughter has ADD. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve been calling her a space cadet since she was in preschool and would give me the wide-eyed look of bliss so characteristic of those who live entirely in their own heads. I’ve been working around, working with, and compensating for her distractibility all along. To me it’s no big deal.
Apparently it’s a different matter where the school system is concerned. They want me to get my doctor to write a letter that they would put in her file so she can be pigeon holed as an ADD kid. They want this badly. Five of them, spearheaded by my dd’s primary teacher, held a meeting with me which was designed and intended to pressure me into providing them with a doctor’s note to that effect.
They tell me this would be good for her because with the official classification they can change her curriculum. They would not answer the question of exactly how they would change it, except to say she would not be taken out of the classroom except for the gifted program she’s already in, and to hint they would reduce her workload.
I’m not so sure she should have her workload reduced. I do think the teacher needs to change a number of the ways in which she handles things, but not by cutting back on what they expect her to accomplish.
So I’ve got a question I’m hoping you can help me with. Should I give them the doctor’s note or not?
That was the main thing in my life lately. What’s up in yours?
A Little Change Here and There
As you may have noticed, I posted my recipe yesterday instead of today. This is a permanent change.
I’m going to make some other changes too.
Saturdays are going to be photo days for me, which generally means Gerbil TV.
I’m calling Mondays Monday Madness and will be posting stuff from the mailbag, guests bloggers other than Mr. Al, games, and whatever else comes to mind.
Tuesdays will be Talk To Me Tuesday. It’s a space for all of us to talk about what we’re doing and what’s on our minds; a place to post off topic stuff all week long.
Mr. Al will still be here every Wednesday. I’ll still be posting Thursday 13 most Thursdays, and Suzie’s House will still appear every Friday.
Eventually I may be adding a feature called Fiction Fridays in which I will link to other people who have posted a piece of fiction sometime during the week.
Various news or snippets may be posted on top of these so that more than one post will go up on a given day, but I hope to keep that to a minimum as I find bloggers who blog all day long overwhelming.
In the grand scheme of things it’s just a little change. I hope you enjoy everything you’ll find in Alice’s Restaurant.
Six Week Bran Muffins
This is one of my favorites. I put the batter in a glass gallon jar filched from a restaurant and cook it up in ones and twos in the toaster oven. Piping hot muffins fresh from the toaster oven with minimal work – yum! And yes, this is what Suzie was making this week.
3 c. sugar
5 c. flour
2 tsp. baking soda
10 c. raisin bran
4 eggs
1 c. vegetable oil
1 quart buttermilk
Mix. Put in refrigerator for a maximum of six weeks. Cook at 400 degrees for 20 minutes.
Suzie’s House 52: Mixed Up With Muffins
Suzie pulled out the restaurant bowl – a stainless steal bowl nearly two feet wide from rim to rim. She didn’t even bother to get the recipe from the file. She had dumped a box of Raisin Bran into the bowl, poured in a quart of buttermilk, and pulled out her 5-Cup measuring cup before she realized Drew was in the room.He leaned against the doorjamb leading to the hall, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
Suzie turned away with a shrug. She didn’t want to share her thoughts right now, especially with Drew. If he realized what she was thinking, he’d be upset. She poured in the oil, then started cracking eggs. One hit the side of the bowl too hard and turned into a gloppy mess in her hand.
“Hey,” Drew said quietly, coming up on her side. He cleaned the egg off with a paper towel. “I’m here for you if you need anything.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice was strained, but she pretended it wasn’t. As soon as she could get her hand back, she mixed in all the wet ingredients.
“I feel bad about Ben. I know you had your reasons for sending him off to live with his father, but I can’t help but think he’d be better off here where I could keep an eye on him.”
Like when he ran into the house next door and shot at a pair of murderers and was too busy to notice that Ben had followed him? Ben had almost gotten kidnapped. Again. Suzie quirked an eyebrow, but refrained from comment. She couldn’t really dump the responsibility for Ben on Drew. As Ben’s mother, most of it rested in herself. Well maybe it was about time Ben’s father took some of the responsibility. She measured out most of the flour and dumped it into the mixing bowl, but didn’t mix it in right off.
She measured the salt, baking soda, and sugar into part of the flour, stirring it right into the measuring cup. It was lazy cooking, but she wasn’t about to dirty an extra bowl just to mix the dry ingredients, and this way the baking soda would be mixed in thoroughly enough.
“Remember, as soon as we crack the case and arrest these guys it’ll be safe for Ben to come home,” Drew said.
“That’s right. And Miranda and I can help.” Suzie’s heart filled with hope. She turned to Drew with a smile on her lips, prepared to dive right in. Helping solve the case and put these men away would give her something to work toward, as well as something to take her mind off of Ben’s every moment away from her.
“Well, I’m not so sure about that. I was thinking of taking Vin off the case, and he was trained for this kind of work. I don’t think it would be right to drag you or Miranda into it.”
Suzie glared at Drew, willing him to understand. He crossed his arms and looked stubborn. Sometimes he irritated her so much she wanted to lash out. Wouldn’t he be surprised to receive a spanking with a wooden spoon – a batter covered wooden spoon. Instead of embarrassing them both, the turned to the enormous mixing bowl.
Suzie pushed the wooden spoon around harder and faster, far more vigorously than necessary. If Miranda walked in now, she’d say something catty about the way Suzie liked to cook when she was upset. Suzie made herself stop.
“I’m not going to change my mind,” Drew said as if she’d argued.
“Yes you will,” she muttered. Even if he didn’t, she was going to take matters into her own hands. “I’ve never been able to sit on the sidelines when it came to something I cared about.”
She took a gallon sized jar from the shelf where she kept three or four of them. She liked the kind with the wider mouths, but had to be careful with them now that the friend who used to work for Porta Bella restaurant no longer kept her supplied with empties. She carefully transferred the mixture from the bowl to the jar, not bothering with a funnel. Then she put the jar in the refrigerator.
“Aren’t you going to cook that?”
“No. You are. You and Miranda and Vin, when it’s your turns to cook. It’s Six Week Muffin Mix. Just pour it into a muffin tin and stick it in the oven. I’ll put the instructions on the side of the jar later.
Drew nodded, looking entirely too serious for muffins. But then, it wasn’t really muffins they were talking about. It was their lives and how they should be lived.
Suzie’s House is fueled by your comments. Not only do your comments encourage me to continue, they often provide direction and inspiration. That’s right, this is an interactive story. If there is something in particular you would like to see, let me know and I’ll try to work it in.
Drop by Sunday for a copy of the recipe.
The previous was Suzie’s House 51: Something to Think About
This is Suzie’s House 52: Mixed Up With Muffins
Next is Suzie’s House 53: A Little Conspiracy
TT #12: Pros and Cons of Bifocals
I got my first pair of bifocal glasses recently. They are taking a bit of getting used to. So this is a quick list of what I like and don’t like about them.
1. The ground at my feet is no longer clear so I don’t always notice the marbles my dd leaves scattered on the floor. Yes, I could tip my head way down, but why bother for every step? What? Did you say something about marbles?
2. When I turn my head quickly it feels like I’m on a boat. Everything shifts.
3. When I rock my head back and forth, the desk in front of me looks like it is undulating. This is actually a plus when I’m bored.
4. I feel like I can’t see half the time because I’m looking out of the wrong part of the glasses.
5. I actually get tired of reading faster now than I did with my one-prescription glasses.
6. I have to tip my head funny to read; not just back, back and to the side.
7. My family thinks I’m giving them the stink eye when I’m just trying to figure out which angle I need to be at to see them clearly.
8. I have yet to figure out what I can focus on with the left and right sides of the bottom of my lenses.
9. I went to three eye doctors, and they all thought it was imperative that I switch.
10. I can see stop signs now. Wait, was that a plus or a minus?
11. I did not get the anti-glare, and it was a serious mistake. My world is noticeably darker now.
12. Because of the thickness and anti-UV of my glasses I have funny looking skin tone around my eyes when I take them off, but I also don’t have as many wrinkles as I would have. So I guess I look like a young, inverted racoon when my glasses are off.
13. Vacuuming has become an adventure. To see the floor I have to tip my head way down, and then the glasses fall off. If I don’t, then it’s pure guess work as to where the dirt is hiding.
Next time I’m getting laser surgery.
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants
By George! George Digs a Hole and Fox Falls In.
It seems when Prince George gets tired of pretending to be bucolic and makes a run for the money he isn’t the only one cruising for a bruising. We return to Mr. Al’s weekly take on the life of George IV.
The Prince did find someone to bring the matter up before Parliament. This gentleman, Nathanial Newnham, did raise the subject of the Prince’s financial distress, but made no mention of his marital status. Prime Minister William Pitt tried to kill the subject by stating that only the King could ask Parliament for such a subsidy. His Majesty had not done so. End of discussion. Time to move on.
Mister Newnham let the matter drop for the time being. But he made it clear that he intended to bring the matter forward again, this time as a formal motion, during the May 4th session. Pitt tried to do an end run around Newnham by asking what, exactly, he intended to say? Newnham, realizing he was far out on a limb, stated that his only concern was for the Prince’s “embarrassed situation.” He would formally request that someone go to the King and ask that he place before Parliament a motion to vote money for his kid. That’s all!
Before the Prime Minster could breath a sigh of relief, up from the Tory benches rose one John Rolle, a solid Church of England squire from Devon. Mister Rolle said that the question of money for the Prince had serious implications. This was because it was “a question which went immediately to affect our constitution in Church and State.”
Uh-oh. The only question that he could possibly be referring to was, of course, the question of wither or not the Prince had married a Catholic. After a bit of hemming and hawing, throat clearing and pretending not to know what the speaker was referring to, Pitt tried to get Newnham to drop the whole matter. If Newnham did not, Pitt threatened, he might be forced to bring up the issue, “though with infinite reluctance, to the disclosure of circumstances which he should otherwise think it his duty to conceal.”
At this point, one of the Prince’s supporters, one who was “out of the loop” so to speak, rose to defend the Prince’s honor. Base accusations had been made! Ugly rumors were being circulated! This had to end! No, by God, they would not let the matter drop! The Prince’s own people had called Pitt’s bluff. Pitt had no more interest than the Whigs in exposing the Royal Family to such a scandal. The Tories, with more venom than foresight, were glad to help the Prince’s “supporters.”
It was Fox who would handle the matter for the Prince. What are friends for? Although Mrs Fitzherbert did not like Fox, and consequently the Prince had cooled noticeably toward him, Fox believed that a flat out declaration that the Prince had not, nor would he ever, marry Mrs Fitzherbert would best serve everyone. What could be simpler? After all, Fox believed it was the truth.
So that’s exactly what he did. On April 30 1787, Fox spoke to the House denouncing those who had spread vile rumors about his friend There was no truth, none at all, concerning a marriage between the Prince and Mrs Fitzherbert. The opposition was not convinced, but it had no proof. Fox left Parliament convinced he had done his best by his friend, his party, and his country.
Some time later, while having drinks at one of his clubs, he was approached by a gentleman who had some interesting news. “Mister Fox, I hear that you have denied in the House the Prince’s marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert. You have been misinformed. I was at the marriage.” Oh dear. Fox had been placed in a very difficult position. True, he placed himself there but that was only because his good friend the Prince had sworn on his dead granny’s Bible that he was not, and never had been married.
Fox was not the only one seeing red.
What's an ENTP?
I took a Blogthings quiz and got this:
***You Are An ENTP***
The Visionary
You are charming, outgoing, friendly. You make a good first impression.
You possess good negotiating skills and can convince anyone of anything.
Happy to be the center of attention, you love to tell stories and show off.
You’re very clever, but not disciplined enough to do well in structured environments.
In love, you see everything as a grand adventure. You enjoy taking risks for love.
And if things don’t work out, you’re usually not too much worse for the wear!
You would make a great entrepreneur, marketing executive, or actor.
At work, you need a lot of freedom to pursue your own path and vision.
How you see yourself: Analytical, creative, and peaceful
When other people don’t get you, they see you as: Detached, wishy-washy, and superficial
What’s Your Personality Type?
http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourpersonalitytypequiz/
My question is, what’s an ENTP?
Alice
Easiest Crust in the World
It’s been a while since I’ve posted something from the Kid’s Favorite Recipes book. This one caught my eye. I haven’t tried it yet, but am looking forward to it.
3 c. flour
1 c. Crisco
1/2 can 7-up.
Mix all together. Roll out pie crusts. Makes 3 double crusts.
Happy Eating
Alice
Ohhhh I'd love to be a literature nerd, that is what I'd truely love to be…
| What Be Your Nerd Type?
Your Result: Literature Nerd
Does sitting by a nice cozy fire, with a cup of hot tea/chocolate, and a book you can read for hours even when your eyes grow red and dry and you look sort of scary sitting there with your insomniac appearance? Then you fit this category perfectly! You love the power of the written word and it’s eloquence; and you may like to read/write poetry or novels. You contribute to the smart people of today’s society, however you can probably be overly-critical of works. It’s okay. I understand. |
|
| Drama Nerd |
|
| Gamer/Computer Nerd |
|
| Musician |
|
| Anime Nerd |
|
| Science/Math Nerd |
|
| Social Nerd |
|
| Artistic Nerd |
|
| What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace |
|
Suzie’s House 51: Something to Think About
In last week’s episode of Suzie’s House, Christina, the CIA agent, pays a visit. While she’s there, Suzie calls Ben’s father to have him come take Ben permanently.
Drew watched Vin watch Miranda as they sat in the living room waiting for Suzie. Poor Vin. He wanted so much from Miranda, who would give so little. They were both on the couch, but might as well be miles apart.
“What do you think?” Drew asked as soon as the front door closed behind Ben and his father. It wasn’t Ben to whom he referred, and he assumed everyone knew it until Miranda spoke up. “What will we do without him? It won’t be the same without Ben.”
“It’s only temporary,” Suzie said. She moved to the arm of the couch and patted Miranda’s shoulder as if to comfort her but Drew didn’t miss the owlish, almost shell-shocked expression on Suzie’s face. She was already hurting for herself and her son.
Drew had brought devastation into this house. If he’d had any idea it would be like this he never would have listened to Vin, let alone actually moved in. Well, what was done was done. He had already volunteered to move out and been soundly refused. Though with this new threat…. No, put it aside. The matter was settled.
“I meant Christina. That was her name, right? The woman who was at Cindy’s party?”
Miranda nodded. “That’s what she said.”
“You think it might not have been her real name?”
“I don’t know… When I first opened the door and she told me her name…. It’s probably nothing.”
“If you ask me, there was something fishy about the whole thing.” Vin sprawled closer to Miranda. He had one hand on the remote, but the TV was off. “I mean, what did she want? Just being friendly? I don’t buy it.” Vin tried to put an arm across Miranda’s shoulder, but she shrugged him off.
“She talked like an airhead, but I think she’s probably pretty smart,” Miranda said.
“She seemed to know a fair amount about our shooter and his brother.” Drew tapped his teeth with the edge of a playing card from the deck on the side table. Sometimes it helped him think. “Think any of it was the truth?”
“Depends on why she was here.” Vin’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“I think their names are right,” Miranda said firmly.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Miranda shrugged. “Something about the way she said them, like they just popped out of her mouth. It was everything else that I didn’t believe. I think she knows them really well. I think if she wanted to she could just lead us to them.”
“You may be right.” This time when Vin put his arm across her shoulders, she didn’t seem to notice.
Drew took a moment out of his analysis of the strange visit to marvel at Vin’s determination. If Miranda was really what he wanted, power too him. Drew was glad he’d found a far less prickly and more receptive woman in Suzie.
Suzie sat stiffly in some antique kind of chair on the other side of the couch from Drew. The two of them could be bookends to Vin and Miranda’s huddle. Her eyes were glazed and fixed on the floor. Any minute now she’d be excusing herself to go cry. When she did, Drew wanted to be there to offer a shoulder.
It was the least he could do after having brought to bear the forces that made her send her son away.
“So,” Drew cleared his throat. “Was it Sean or Joseph who tried to abduct Ben? Which one is The Smash Master? And which one shot Vin? The sooner we can close the investigation, the sooner Ben can come home and Suzie can get back to a normal life.”
Suzie’s head came up fast. “That’s right. Once we have them in custody, it’ll be safe for Ben to come home.”
Drew nodded as much to reassure her as to agree.
“Well off hand I’d say it was Joseph who shot me,” Vin said. “Which would make it Sean who tried to abduct Ben.”
“It doesn’t matter which is which,” Miranda said. “What we need it to catch them both!”
They all agreed about catching them both. Drew didn’t argue about the need to know which was which because Suzie got up with a murmur about supper and headed for the kitchen.
“Besides, we don’t even know of either name is right. Just because Christina believes it doesn’t mean it’s so,” Vin said.
Drew got up and headed for the kitchen. Over his shoulder he made one last comment.
“I think the next time we see Christina we should put a trace on her.”
The previous was Suzie’s House 50: On the Case
This is Suzie’s House 51: Something to Think About
Next is Suzie’s House 52: Mixed Up With Muffins
Thanks for your patience
Sorry it took so long. Here are the links to last weeks T13
Nicholas (Who has a sexy voice. Go check him out.)
Oops, almost forgot Lara, who never leaves a link but I know how to find her.
I’ll be back to the T13 stuff next week. Hopefully I’ll be a little more coordinated then.
The End of Sven
As you all know I’ve been working on the Sweat with Sven challenge. I chose A Miss for Mark, the third book in the Parthenon Club, as my Work in Progress for that event. When it started I’d already been at it for over a month.
Let’s look at a few statistics
Words written before the challenge began: 16,548
I was thinking it was 13,000 until a few minutes ago when I realized I’d pulled the number from the wrong place.
Words written in total to date: 78,052
Words written in Mark for the challenge: 61,504
Average words per day during the challenge: 668
This average includes about 20 days when I didn’t write a single word. Taking only days when I actually wrote the number is closer to 850 words a day. It includes a few days when I wrote well over 2,000 words a day.
Average words per day before:447
I did not finish the book, but I got pretty close. On my board meter it says that I’m shooting for 80,000 words, but that’s only to keep me from going way overboard as I am want to do in a rough draft. I figure I only have about 5,000 more words to finish off the last few scenes.
So I didn’t make my 70,000 words in 70 days as per the challenge, and I didn’t make my goal of finishing before Christmas, but I did benefit from having joined the challenge. should I happen to have a rough draft come up while it is going on in the future I’ll do it again. They are already talking about running another one this spring.
Me? I’ll be revising then.
By George! Life in the Country
It seems Prince George is always hurting for money. Too bad his mad starts only make things worse. When his father insists he marry a nice German girl before he’d pick up the tab, Priney doesn’t respond well.
Said the Prince; he would show “firm determination not to appear again in public till he could do so with the dignity and splendor to which his rank in life entitled him.” Dad was not impressed. To give action to his words, the Prince shut up Carlton House, fired all but a handful of servants, they hadn’t been paid in months anyway, sold his racehorses and fancy carriages and moved to Brighton.Throughout much of the Georgian period Brighton had been growing in popularity as a seaside resort. What had been for centuries a small fishing village, had suddenly begun to sprout the mansions of the Better Sorts. The Prince was having none of that, however.
He was on a mission to prove he was poor. Relatively speaking. He rented a farmhouse for himself and a small villa for Mrs Fitzherbert, who joined him after he settled in. It was the summer of 1786 and the Prince could often be encountered strolling about town or taking a dip on the beach.
As would happen numerous times over the course of his life, the Prince had discovered that the further from London he got, the more popular he became. The citizens were tickled pink to have him. He spoke to fishermen and shopkeepers with the same easy familiarity with which he spoke to his peers back in London.
He had cut way back on his drinking, he didn’t gamble, his rakehell London cronies were not in evidence and his infamous “pavilion” was not yet a gleam in his eye. He was, to all the world, a quiet, retired country gent. He was twenty-four. Although he did not flout his marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert, he didn’t try very hard to hide it.
Indeed, the lovebirds were often seen together. They attended local theatricals, the country fairs and other local entertainments. The Prince charmed the boots off the local nabobs, who veyed with one another to have him as a dinner guest.
Mrs. Fitzherbert won universal acclaim for her quite demeanor and intelligent conversation. This was a good thing because the Prince, while intelligent enough, tended to be a bit pedantic. He could, and often did, hold his dinner guests hostage while he prattled on, sometimes for hours, about some subject or another.
And, of course, dinner couldn’t be served until he shut up. Happily, there was none of that in Brighton this particular summer. The Prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert were apparently happy as clams. As summer turned to autumn, the Prince moved into a larger house, Bushy Park. The infamous (to Americans) Lord North owned this property.
And all the while this picture of domestic bliss was taking place the Prince was waiting for dad to give in. It didn’t happen. Mrs. Fitzherbert tried to assure her beloved that it was only a matter of time. The Prince knew better. He had received an offer of a loan from the Duke of Orleans.
Not stopping to consider the political ramifications of being in debt to a French duke, his Highness was ready to accept. Cooler heads prevailed however, and he was talked out of it. But something had to be done! This “impoverished prince” act was getting to be a major pain in the butt.
The Prince decided that if he could get no money from dad directly he would have to take his case to Parliament. In person. His Highness was informed in no uncertain terms just what a bad idea that was. Questions would be raised. Questions he dare not answer publicly.
First and foremost would be is he married to a Roman Catholic? The Prince fully understood what the news of his marriage to Mrs. Fitzherbert would mean if he publicly acknowledged it. But, by God, he needed money! The urge to redecorate was upon him!
He tried to convince his Whig supporters that his recent good conduct would be enough to calm the waters. Not likely, was the reply. The Prince would not be put off. He eventually found someone to raise the subject in Parliament. He would bitterly regret having done so.
7 Facts about Alice Audrey
As I said over on Jodi’s blog, Jodi being the one who tagged me for this, I’m not that interesting. So I’m going to modify the rules for this post. Just a little.
The real rules:
Link to the person who tagged you;
Leave a comment on their blog so that their readers can visit yours;
Post the rules on your blog;
Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself on your blog;
Tag 7 random people at the end of your post;
Include links to their blogs;
Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog
My rules – all the above except the seven things don’t have to be interesting or weird or anything.
Here goes – Seven totally UN interesting things about me:
1. No matter what I do my nails are stupendously ugly. They flake off at the ends, never ever get more than a quarter of an inch long, get hang nails constantly, and have ragged cuticles even when I mess with them, which only makes them worse anyway.
2. I have curly hair. I try not to think about it.
3. I did three Thursday Thirteens about my desk. THREE. In a row. And I had no idea it was a cliche among T13ers until I went surfing off their T13 blog page last Thursday and found four of them, one of which even SAID it was trite. I thought I was being original.
4. I promised myself I’d never write Romantic Suspense because I knew I wouldn’t be fast enough to catch the wave. They now make up a quarter of everything I’ve written.
5. I’ve completed a SF and a F book, and have woo-woo elements in most of my books, and love to read vampires etc, but have no interest in writing Paranormal.
6. Despite my bananas and vinyl placemats I actually do have murky depths. I’m thinking of adding a little banana with a magnifying glass to go with the one with the whip.
7. I have recently been accused of leaving very short replies everywhere. So I’m a fan of the one-liner. Sheesh.
I tag Renee, Sindee, Gillian, Cara, Tessa, MiLady, and dang I wish I could tag Jodi. Um… ooo, I really want to tag Jennifer. Too bad she’s the one who tagged Jodi. Um…. Ericka.
