Must Love Otters -- Because They Are Adorable!

Soooooo ...

I wrote a book that was available and then it wasn't available and then it found a new home and now it's undergoing some major remodeling. (Yes. Still. It's a process.) Some of you are still waiting on that book to reappear, all decked out in her pretty new wallpaper and crown molding and custom tile work, and for THAT, I thank you SO MUCH. When she's all done? She's gonna "shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!" Pretty sure I stole that from Miss Hannigan (did I?), but whatever.

As it stands, I'm still trying to put Sleight's pieces back in the right order. Next time, someone remind me that writing stories with even the slightest brushstroke of fantasy is for smart people. I don't know if I am a smart people. Don't tell my editor or agent I said that. I think they might still think I'm sorta smart. Or at least of average intelligence. This week, I have not heard the whispers of intelligence. Only that mean voice that says GET A REAL JOB YOU BONEHEAD.

Although editing is a real job. Ask my lovely clients. I donate blood every time I edit a manuscript. Well, metaphorically speaking. I mean, I don't go *into* Canadian Blood Services and offer a vein because if I did that, I'd totally pass out and would likely vomit on the way down and then aspirate through my nose and possibly choke to death, and that is WAY not as romantic as being a writer who, drunk on whiskey and the tears soaking into her inky manuscript, choked to death on her own genius.

Not as romantic as that at all.

SO. THE POINT HERE (I've mentioned that my ex-husband used to get SO mad at me for digressing, didn't I? God, he was so mean):

My personality has split. There's Jenn Sommersby (Jenn Sy to my Facebook minions), and now, there is Eliza Gordon. My pen name. 

But why a pen name, Jenn? And why not keep it a mysterious secret like J. K. Rowling and Nora Roberts and a bunch of other folks? Because although THIS is the bio you get on her profile ...

Eliza Gordon is a forgetful girl who relies on Post-It notes and cellphone alarms to get her through the day. An avid eater of cookies, she can be found with her hand in the jar when not in her cubicle. A purveyor of fictions, Eliza is confident that the life she lives in merely the imaginings of someone else’s hand, poured from a dull pencil on cafe napkins, and that she is simply an understudy, waiting for her turn to take the stage. She has excellent taste in books, shoes, and friends, and questionable sanity in the realm of love. Best leave that one alone.

The REAL Eliza is actually two people: myself and my husband. We are co-writing fictions of fun and fancy. Our first project, Must Love Otters, is thus:

Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations, did this awesome cover. She's chocolately goodness.

A romance of comedic proportions:

Hollie Porter is the chairwoman of Generation Disillusioned: at twenty-five years old, she’s saddled with a job she hates, a boyfriend who’s all wrong for her, and a vexing inability to say no. She’s already near her breaking point, so when one caller too many kicks the bucket during Hollie’s 911 shift, she cashes in the Sweethearts’ Spa & Stay gift certificate from her dad and heads to Revelation Cove, British Columbia. One caveat: she’s going solo. Any sweethearts will have to be found on site.

Hollie hopes to find her beloved otters in the wilds of the Great White North, but instead she’s providing comic relief for staff and guests alike. Even Concierge Ryan, a former NHL star with bad knees and broken dreams, can’t stop her from stumbling from one (mis)adventure to another. Just when Hollie starts to think that a change of venue doesn’t mean a change in circumstances, the island works its charm and she starts to think she might have found the rejuvenation she so desperately desires. But then an uninvited guest crashes the party, forcing her to step out of the discomfort zone where she dwells and save the day … and maybe even herself in the process.

THIS IS SO COOL, RIGHT?

I know! I'm sorta freaking out myself! Otters will be available way sooner than I ever imagined, as in THIRTEEN DAYS from now -- O.M.G.! When the marketing people said I could make it available, like, in 2013, I had to ask them to repeat themselves. "Really? We can do that?"

It will be available from West 26th Street Press, a new imprint from Writers House (the agency who reps me), starting with 

preorders Amazon and iBookstore on October 22, 

and for sale at all major distributors on October 29.

A paperback version will be available in November. Eliza and I will be sure to post links accordingly so those who like to have books made out of paper (like me ... er, and Eliza ... dude, this is getting weird now ...) can place their magical order.

What can I do in the meantime, Jenn/Eliza, while I wait the thirteen days for this mighty morsel of madness to come available?

Start here:   

You can like Eliza's Facebook page.  

You can follow Eliza on Twitter.

You can visit ElizaGordon.com.

You can sign up for a review copy with the handy-dandy review form found via this page. Scroll down to the words "Very Fancy Google Form," answer a few questions, and poof!

Note: I totally know this is short notice to ask for reviews, so I'm absolutely NOT requesting that you post a review on the 29th. That's just silly. I know you kids have lives and editorial calendars. An estimated date you might have availability would be so appreciated!

And there will be e-books only this time around. Mailing paperback books from Canada? 'Tis insanely pricey.

Finally, feel free to send your favorite recipes (we can feature them on Eliza's blog!) because I am going to require A LOT OF COOKIES in the next little while. House Elf, get on that, would you?

Yay! Books! I heart your faces for stopping in for a chat. You brought whisky, right?

Xs and Os, lovelies ...

Friday Funnies ... on Saturday

I MISSED FRIDAY FUNNIES!

Yesterday was ridiculous in the Busy Department, so I forgot to stop and giggle. I am AGAIN cleaning the house this day--Saturday, otherwise known as the Stupid Day When We Clean the Stupid House But Be Glad You HAVE a House Because It Could Be Worse. (Mommy Voldemort is always in my head. MAKE HER STOP.)

You know the saying, "I cried because I had no shoes until I met the man who had no feet"? WELL, I have an answer to that: "I cried because I had no shoes until I met the man who had no feet AND he had shoes, nice ones, so I bonked him over the head and stole his shoes because, hell, he wasn't gonna need 'em."

Dude, I so wouldn't do that. BUT THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS when I have to vacuum. My brain gets really, really mad, and then it starts thinking dark thoughts, like, what if I *didn't* move the couches to suck up the dust bunnies, or what if I *didn't* vacuum under the beds this week ... WOULD ANYONE KNOW? Probably. It's like wearing ugly underwear with that stretched-out maternity bra you really should get rid of because you haven't nursed a baby in at least eight years and finding yourself unconscious in the laundry soap/cleaning aisle because some jerkoff who's pissed that his store isn't allowed to go union "accidentally" mixed ammonia and bleach so now half the store is convulsing, and on the way down to kiss the dirty tile floor, you smacked your head on the shelf holding Liquid PlumR and now you're unconscious so long that you don't even see that STUD of an EMT leaning over you saying, "Miss? Miss?" (even though he's probably saying, "Ma'am? Ma'am?") and when you FINALLY get to the hospital and wake up to the sound of the guy next to you vomiting and reeking of Sterno, your clothes are GONE and you realize that they have seen your Saturday granny-panties and that stretched out nursing bra.

I really need to go bra shopping.

ANYWAY, here are some things that struck my fancy this week. (Just don't tell Mommy Voldemort that I'm not vacuuming under the beds. SHE IS SO MEAN.)

Last week, I TOTALLY FORGOT to share the latest installment--season two, episode two--from Convos with My 2-Year-Old (although Coco turned three, so yeah ... now I'm just confused ... STILL AWESOME, though!).

*****

From ThinkGeek on Facebook: They shared this image--but Helm's Deep is only the beginning. Check out this guy's Flickr feed for more!

Have I mentioned in the last hour HOW MUCH I LOVE LORD OF THE RINGS? Oh. Right. I did.

*****

If you know me at all, you know I sort of have a thing for William Shakespeare. Especially when he was rude. Buzzfeed offered us THIS this week: 17 Shakespearean Insults to Use in Everyday Life. Take that, butter face.

I chose the Titus quote. OF COURSE I did. Pie, anyone?

*****

 SPEAKING OF CATS, it's hockey season!!!! Nuit is an avid Canucks fan. She is our orcat. (Get it? Orca + cat? I KNOW SO CLEVER RIGHT??? That joke is not original. I stole it. *hangs head*)

Like HELL I hooked him! That was a clean hit! *drops gloves*

Smug Nuit is smug.

*****

And just because I friggin' love Portland ... I give you, The Unicycling Bagpipe-Playing Darth Vader. Keep Portland Weird! Video HERE via Wimp.com.

Find the Unipiper: http://theunipiper.com/.

*************************

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO MY CANADIAN COMRADES!!!

Yes, Canada has Thanksgiving. On a Monday. I know, it's weird. But Canada celebrated T'giving 43 years before America did, so there's that.

 
Xs and Os, lovelies ... 

P.S. If you haven't liked Eliza Gordon ^^^^^^^^ up there in the sidebar (see the Facebook LIKE button?), go liketh her. She is me. I am her. We are one. Actually, we are two, but WHATEVER. Book news coming next week. ;)

Aaaaaand That's a Wrap ... Friday Funnies

Another week has marched away, which means we are one week closer to The End. Which is totally depressing. So let us not think about wasted moments, ill-spent seconds, bad decisions in cupcakes. Instead, let's giggle.

This week's funnies that caught me by the giggle gizzard:

Convos with My 2-Year-Old has started season 2!!!

 *******

This one's pretty true, although some of my friends are terrible spellers (ahem, Husband, ahem) and I haven't disowned them yet:

*******

I went to Walmart last night (don't judge--I'm not proud, but in a Canadian economy where we're paying nearly $6 a gallon for gas, I gotta do what I gotta do). In the local WallyWorld, we have a medical clinic. I've only had the unfortunate occasion to go there once--my daughter works at a bear-building store where grabby children with pink-eye-infected fingers often show up, so Pretty Princess picked up the pinking of the eye. We had to get it treated. On a Sunday. WallyWorld's esteemed medical clinic was the only joint in town that hadn't met its "quota" for the day (I'm totally serious). HENCE we went there. And were "greeted" by the doctor's warring teenage daughters who were also doubling as his front-office staff. It was worrisome.

So imagine my surprise last night when I went to Walmart, only because it was close to the new, pleasantly vacant Starbucks and we were on our monthly "date night" where we spend $11 on coffee and talk about our children away from the house so they can't hear us, and we saw THIS SIGN on the medical clinic window:

Yes, ladies, you can now get your Pap smears at Walmart. That's what I call one-stop shopping. "ROLLBACK ON PAP SMEARS! $19.88!"

*******

These next things aren't necessarily funny. Mostly just awesome.

I would so fly on this plane:

Why, yes, Thorin Oakenshield, I am interested in talking to you about a sword.

In case you need more Richard Armitage, here (do NOT tell Mark Strong I posted this picture--jealousy is so ugly):

Thanks, Anglophile Channel, for the pho-to.

********

AND DID YOU HEAR ABOUT PAKISTAN'S NEW ISLAND? They had a ginormous earthquake this week (7.7 reportedly), and an island PLOPPED to the surface. Wondering how long before someone calls dibs. Full article here on io9 (amazing site, BTW):

In case you missed it, they've added a red circle to draw your attention appropriately.

*******

Someone floated these in the FB feed, and I WANTS THEM, PRECIOUS. Private message me and I'll send you my address. Thanks, Literary Gift Company!

*******

Lastly, the rain has arrived in British Columbia. We had a good run. I ordered some new boots. It is time to succumb and tuck in for the Long Dark. Which is fine. Sun just makes me feel guilty that my garden looks like zombies nap in it.

Xs and Os, lovelies ...

With Respect to the Day of My Hallowed Birth

When it's your birthday, I hope someone special does something like THIS for you. Because for this year's Big Day of Marking How Bloody Old I'm Getting, the amazing humanoids in my house woke me with hot coffee and PRESENTS.

Here we go.

GIVE US THE CUPCAKE.

This card also informs me that I am the "greatest person in the universe as a hero and a mom." Just so you know. You can stop trying so hard now. Go ahead. Be a slacker. The role of #1 Human has clearly been filled.

The baby came into me the other day, feeling creatively vexed about what to do for my birthday, so I gave him this:

What I call a seed list. A few words to get the ideas flowing. THIS was the result:

You may have to click it to see it better. Does that work?

If you can't see it, he's incorporated everything from the list into this comic except the otter, plus he added scissors and a piece of paper to complete the rock's storyline. The magical jellybeans have LEGS. Omigod. These kids? MAGICAL MAGIC.

Pretty Princess, not to be outdone by her pesky little brothers, presented a Sephora gift card, which is quite decadent for my drug-store-makeup-department palate, but I am twitterpated to go spend $75 on a powder compact. BRING IT. I will be very fancy soon. Oh, and allegedly, there will be sushi at some point today. She also did a lovely collage of wonderful moments from my momentous life, but it's kinda depressing because I was really cute and skinny, like, 10 years ago. Has anyone seen my collarbones?

My darling writer friend/walking buddy/shoulder to cry on knocked on the door with FRESH STILL-WARM-FROM-THE-OVEN CAKE. Seriously? I KNOW! And when she called to see if I'd tried it yet, I was all like, no it's morning I can't eat cake, and she was all like, yes you can it's your birthday you can eat morning cake, SO I DID. And it was delicious, yo. Only I forgot to take a picture and now there's a big gaping hole in the cake where my face might have gnawed out a sizable chunk.

And, while whining the other day about the age I have achieved this year, my super-big-brained, Mental-Floss-writing, Editorial Colleague of Genius and Doom reminded me that I am That Number, the one that is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Here's proof:

Seriously. Google the number 42, and see what comes up. Douglas Adams, we bow. (And thanks, Adrienne. I'm sorry I'm so late for the party.)

September the 19th is also shared by famed writer William Golding (Lord of the Flies), the original Batman (Adam West), Hermione Granger (!!!), James Lipton, Jeremy Irons, Jimmy Fallon, supermodel Twiggy, Canadian heartthrob Kevin Zegers, actor David McCallum, musicians Tegan and Sara, and a bazillion other people.

SO, happy birthday to all my birthday twins, ESPECIALLY my lovely London Sarah across the pond. THIS is what my Sarah gave me:

AND THIS:

 

Because no post on Planet Jenn would be complete without Mark Strong and a cat picture. (Mr. Strong, I am not a stalker. I swear. Well, maybe a little stalker. Tiny stalker. Only not so tiny because I am eating cake in the morning. I PROMISE NOT TO BOIL YOUR RABBITS.)

I mentioned cats. Hence, I give you Naughty Nuit, just because I'm feeling generous:

 

And to close out the week, because tomorrow I have children home from school and thus no thoughts will be strung together without 147.5 interruptions, I give you this. 

GO AND READ AND PEE FROM LAUGHING. 

Here--first pull on this lovely Depends undergarment--I got a whole box for my birthday.

Xs and Os, lovelies ...

Proof that I do yardwork.

New School Year Challenge: Best Teacher Notes EVER

New school year, new teacher. One among this year's lot has requested a note from parents, "in a million words or fewer," to tell her about our little darlings.

CHALLENGE ACCEPTED. (Someone should warn her. About the notes I write. And that I will likely blog about it because I laugh the loudest at myself. Usually because I am alone and no one is here to laugh at/with me. The cat does spend a lot of time staring nervously in my direction, however ...)

This was the opening act for the note sent to the 4th grade teacher this day. Because I'm nothing if not diligent about doing my homework (with a few modifications to make it appropriate for this viewing audience).

Dear New Lovely Teacher:

Thank you for taking on the job of educating the next generation. My youngest child is delightful in many ways, but these quick facts may help you better understand your position in his life.
-->

• KG’s hands are registered lethal weapons in the following provinces and states: British Columbia, Oregon, California, Arkansas, Maine, Nova Scotia, Yukon, and Newfoundland and Labrador.

• KG’s curls are registered and insured by Lloyd’s of London for an undisclosed multimillion-dollar policy.

• KG was the first child in Canada to be conceived in a lab with a compilation of plutonium and Unobtainium (from the planet Pandora).

• KG’s number-one hit single, Alex the Seal, ranked #3 on the New Zealand billboard charts on his 7^th birthday.

• KG invented the Internet.

• When KG was born, he was humming Rachmaninov’s 3^rd Symphony, Opus 30, in D Minor. The doctor was dumbfounded.

• KG speaks fluent Shakespeare and is a shareholder of the (new) Globe Theatre in London.

• KG was an uncredited writer on the Academy Award-winning film Argo, alongside Ben Affleck and Grant Heslov (producer). They would meet up for writing sessions at Jerry’s Deli in Studio City, California, after playdates. KG never ate the pickles.

Poor teacher. She didn't know she signed up for this when she signed up for my kid.

*     *     *

So, you're shaking your head right now, wondering if I am really this obnoxious all the time. (Pretty much.) And you're wondering if maybe you should Google the school's address so you can send flowers to this new teacher because she's going to be stuck with me all year. HEY. IT'S NOT THAT BAD. I'm just trying to inject some levity into the "Please excuse Johnny for his tardiness this morning." Really, Johnny's mom? That's the best you could do? Sorry, but you suck at being awesome.

So here is my challenge to YOU: When you write notes to your kid's/kids' teacher(s),  

UP THE ANTE. 

Make 'em giggle. Make 'em smile. They are not in education because of the cool cash. We all know that.

Here are a few samples to get you going (these are examples from last year's crop):

For tardiness:

Please forgive ___________’s tardy today. I, the mom, overslept both of my alarms because I have issues with mornings, and today, the morning won. My humblest apologies. Please don’t send my beautiful child to the dungeon with the dragons and spiders. Reserve such punishment for me. (Omigod, I hate spiders. Maybe no spiders?)

For absence: 

Dear Teacher: Please forgive ___________'s absence yesterday. We were chasing unicorns to collect tears for our time machine, and we lost track of the moon. Then we stopped at Subway and met a Leprechaun, and he just had to tell us about his pot of gold and the politics going on within his little world. And then the sandwich artist gave us peppers on our sandwiches! What a strange, sad little sandwich artist.

For a P.E. excuse:

-->

Please excuse __________________ from P.E. today. He’s been out sick X days this week, and if he runs around and gets all crazy during physical education class, he will start to cough and that could lead to more disgusting things (vomit). Perhaps send him to the library or if the school has a meditation room, send him there. (Meditation is good for us. That’s what my therapist says.)

For any generic reason you need to apologize to the teacher:

Please excuse ____________'s really big screw-up. [INSERT PROBLEM YOU SEEK FORGIVENESS FOR HERE.] You see, it's a long story. First, my darling child was born 11 days late, and things progressed from there in terms of chronic tardiness. When we sat down to do this assignment, we really did think that Wikipedia was a reliable news source. Who knew that Tesla was not the name of the International Space Station but rather a famous rodeo clown? Seriously! If it's any consolation, we do have a cousin who is a NASA astronaut and he totally piloted the Space Shuttle in 2010 (Google him--his name is James "Mash" Dutton*). Given this information, it is obvious that Super Amazing Genius runs in the family, and if we could therefore have a few more days to finish this assignment properly, we can prove to you that _____________ is capable of greatness.

(*This is completely true. Astronaut Dutton is my cousin. I haven't seen him since before puberty, but still ... cousins.)

I am not even bullshitting you. Hey, Cuz ... Is it wrong to admit here that when I was three, I was totally in love with this lad and his brother? I was. Which is creepy. Because we're related. But I was three. And clearly I had excellent taste. Even if it was warped and weird because we were cousins. By blood.

*******************************************************************

The gauntlet has been thrown down. What can you do to brighten your child's teacher's day and/or torment the hell out of them and make them wish you would move out of county? Remember, BE NICE. No one likes an ass****. POST your teacher notes in the COMMENTS section below. There might be prizes involved. Off the record, of course.

Xs and Os ... and HAPPY NEW SCHOOL YEAR!

Stereotypical apple. For school.

 

 

The Summer of Tasks ... and Critters

And so it begins.

A new school year is imminent. It's coming. Depending on your geographic spot on Third Rock, some of you have already embarked upon this annual ritual (and yes, others of you homeschool your minions so "education never sleeps" and we know your kids are smarter and better adjusted than ours and they don't cuss or play Call of Duty or make snarky comments about that one kid in the back of the class who eats paste and boogers YES I KNOW). With this restart of institutionalized sanity for the Mom Class comes the inevitable questions:

How was your summer? Did you go anywhere?

I hate these questions. I really do. I hate it when my kids come home and talk about their classmates who spent a month in the French Riviera studying local flora and fauna or a month traveling all over the country in a Winnebago to better understand their heritage or a week in Mexico diving with venomous sea creatures to build an artificial reef or two weeks saving orphaned alpacas in the Peruvian mountains or a week building shelters for neglected hyenas. YES. FINE. You left your house during these last 74 days. Here's your medal. Go ahead. Polish it. I'll stand here and wait. You can use the salty tears of my neglected children -- I have a vial here. Hang on while I dig it out of my Walmart sack ...

We left the house to venture as far as the grocery store, the bookstore, the coffee shop, the local pool (twice!), the ice creamery, the park, the golf course, the movie theatre, the Museum of Anthropology, Vancouver's answer to a "zoo," and the Vancouver Aquarium/Stanley Park. (Evidence below.) 

Mountain lion. Puma concolor. Greater Vancouver Zoo. She was pacing, watching the caretaker, waiting for lunch.

Jellies. No peanut butter anywhere.

Two-toed sloth, climbing around the sprinklers in the Amazon exhibit. VERY cute. And slow.

ELFIN! He's beautiful. Read more about Elfin here: http://www.vanaqua.org/experience/shows/spotlight-on-sea-otters.

Pretty jellyfish. Quite little. Maybe the size of a small lemon?

Pissing match ongoing. Apparently, these two sea lions had just been moved into the same enclosure a few hours prior, so they were howling at each other (sounds like a really long belch) about who was boss. Pretty funny. Until it became annoying.

 

Penguins! Quite warm for the little fellas this day.

 

HUG ME. (Giant Pacific octopus)

I ask my kids, "Am I a terrible mother because I didn't take you windsurfing in the Columbia River Gorge or to sweat alongside 1.3 million other angry people at Disneyland?" Their answers, thankfully, have been, "No, Mommy, we love you. You're pretty and your voice chimes like the bells of Notre Dame. Can we get Slurpees?" Which means my kids are awesome. Not entitled little shits. Before you polish those medals I handed out earlier, ask yourself if your kids are awesome. If they are, polish away. If they're not awesome, then you might want to melt down that medal and pawn it to pay for a behavioral interventionist.

But the point here is not how awesome my kids are, or how unawesome other people's kids are. Instead, it's a wrap-up of What I DID and Did NOT Do on My Summer "Vacation*," those things I set out to do, some achievements unlocked while others not, before we face the Big Dark that will lock us indoors and under protective shelters along soccer sidelines until the sun revisits in nine months' time. 

(*By the way, vacation implies that there were days off. Maybe I should call it the Summer of Tasks, because I do not usually take days off. Except today. Although I should be working. I'm way more awesome than you, aren't I? Sitting here telling you how fantastic I am because I don't take days off ... mwuahhh ha ha ha. Slacker. Certain former members of my life would say, "Oh, please, let us erect a plaster statue of you in the garden." To them, I say, GET THEE SOME PLASTER AND STOP FLAPPING YOUR WINE-STAINED LIPS.)

SUMMER 2013: WHAT I DID AND DID NOT DO OVER THESE LAST 74 DAYS:

1. I did not lose 15 lb. Instead, I gained 5. 

2. I did finish writing another book. Under a pen name. Stay tuned.

3. I did not teach my children the fundamentals of grammar as planned. #fail

4. I did edit eight projects for clients, including one that is floating around the NYT bestseller list. Congratulations, Samantha Young!

5. I did not exchange the wrong math book for the right one. Hence, no math was done.

6. I did take a thousand more pictures of my cat. DUH.

Pretty Nuit.

I believe I can flyyyyyyy ...

7. I did not plant flowers in the bed of death at the front of the house. Nor did I waste water trying to keep my lawn alive. Unlike my neighbors. Seriously? LET IT DIE. It will be green the other nine months of the year. Oh, and the dandelion forest looks so pretty in the early-morning sun.

8. I did begin exhaustive research from a completely scientific/historical standpoint about Jesus and the Romans. It's for a new book. And wow. Who knew human beings have been douchey to each other forEVER? Let's hug. ((HUG))

9. I did not watch Welcome to the Punch every single night. Although I wanted to.

10. I did take the kids to see The Croods, Despicable Me 2, and Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters (Husband worked on this one--built the sets for Camp Half-Blood and Polyphemus's cave (photos here)).

My Brennie, meeting his heroes on the set of Percy Jackson, Logan Lerman and Alexandra Daddario, June 2012.

11. I did not write Mark Strong any weird, obsessed fan letters or emails. Although, I was so excited about his new AMC series Low Winter Sun that I may have tweeted/Google+'d about it, and my girlfriend sent me this after she Googled Mark Strong (she didn't know who he was--horrors!). This came up. Third entry down, that is MY GOOGLE+ comment, you guys. BEFORE Wikipedia. I'm actually kind of embarrassed that I'm so weird. Okay, not really. It will allllll make sense once this rewrite is finished, I PROMISE.

Low Winter Sun publicity still. Adorable.

12.  I did make sure my soccer star made his way into two awesome soccer camps so that I wouldn't be labeled a complete failure. (This counts as one of my accomplishments, right? I'm running out of "dids" here, friends. Way more "did nots." Shit.)

13. I did not read a single book for pleasure. Okay, that's not true. I finished a Sophie Kinsella back in July because it was fun. 

14. I did, however, buy a stack of new books because I am addicted and YES the first step in treating an addiction is recognizing you have a problem and promptly returning to the bookstore for more books. Cheaper than therapy, baby.

Saw this on one of the shelves in the YA section. Funny.

15. And another did, because this was a good one: I did get to see my oldest boy, who I don't see much because he's growed up and lives in Washington, and he went fishing in Squamish and caught us fresh salmon (called "pinks" or "humpies"). Delish.

Blakey caught 'em. We ate 'em. Thank you, Blakey.

SOOOO ... with the remaining days of this Summer of Tasks, I will continue forth with more research, take a nap, do laundry, get the kids' school supplies (yes, we've waited till the very last minute because I want to SAVOR the office supply store), drink a beer, maybe two, and probably walk around my chair trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this book. 

Rarely do we get comments here, but please, share what you did this summer so I can live vicariously through your adventures. The grander, the better. Or, if like me you stayed home to work and tend the home fires, share that too. 

Fall is coming. And then winter. Although, Winter Is Coming but not until spring 2014. Curse you, HBO! #gameofthrones

Xs and Os, lovelies ...