Monday, December 2, 2013

Above Reproach

So, it's nearly four in the afternoon and I just discovered that I've been wearing my leggings backwards all day. So, there's that.

Thanksgiving is all over but the leftovers and now it's on to the next.

A ninety-year-old woman walked up behind me today and muttered, "Bitch!" and when I looked startled, she patted my arm. "Not you, honey. You're above reproach." Now I'm wondering who she was talking about.

Over the Thanksgiving break, I read an entire trilogy of vampire-steampunk-alternate-history kind of books. They were dreadful and wonderful all at once, as only that genre can be. Now I'm torn between doing penance by reading something a little more literary or writing fan-fic about the tall and mysterious Prince Gareth in his swirling cloak and welder's goggles. Am I the only one who reads vampire steampunk trash? Can't be. I like to refer to it as Alabaster Trash. I may even start a whole tab on this blog to review all of the Alabaster Trash I've read in the last several months.

I have concluded my No-Shave-November-National-Write-A-Turkey-Novel-and-Polish-Sausages-Month. I only did two of those things. Three. I didn't write a novel. I'll leave that in more capable hands. I did polish sausages, though. (Dirty!) Seriously, though, I set a goal for the November madness to polish and submit at least five pieces for publication. Done and done and then some. It was very gratifying and all that. But, like Thanksgiving, that's all over now and it's on to the next. Well, it's not done. It's never done, but you know, the goal is met.

I also set my oven on fire last week. It's all good, though. Only some extremely soupy chocolate chip cookies were harmed.

Well, my chickadees, I'm going to have to summon forth some dinner that does not involve leftovers. I am in no mood for a dinner table revolt this evening. The world spins on. My Hooligan prayed last night: "Thank you for all the stuff I have that I can give away." I think I like that. In a month of cliche, it is refreshing to hear a 7-year-old's unsocialized take on things.

The sleet just started. I never watch the news or check the forecast, so the weather is always a surprise. There were whispers of wintry weather among the senior citizens at lunch today and I smiled and nodded politely. They were right, though. You should always listen to the senior citizens. Except when you think they are calling you a bitch, then you should remember that you are above reproach.


  1. This made me laugh out loud twice. The old lady--a priceless story! You are above reproach. It might be true! And Alabaster Trash. Have you heard of Bonnet Rippers? Amish love stories, you know. I don't read them but they check them out in droves at the library. As a teenager I was particularly fond of love stories involving--this is shameful--Native American women and white men. Or reverse. Savage Love? Oh please don't tell anyone I said that.

    1. I don't think I could stomach the Bonnet Rippers... I don't really care for romance as a genre, there needs to be a little more heft to the plot. But of course, now that you've mentioned them I'm going to have to check one out... just to see.
      I am laughing for real out loud about your shameful secret. We can't possibly be held accountable for the things we read as teenagers. Can we?
      As for the old lady, she's a gem. I may write a post sometime just about her. I want to be her when I grow up.

  2. Have you read any of the Parasol Protectorate books? Maybe after your next round of literature. ;)

    1. Oh my, Jessica, yes. I have read all of them. That is precisely the genre of which I speak. I was thinking about starting her finishing school series just for kicks...
      So, does this mean that you partake in the Alabaster Trash as well? If so, you should really check out the Vampire Empire series.
      This whole discussion is mildly thrilling and a little bit embarrassing.

  3. I am shamelessly posting a comment over one year later, as I stay up much too late cyber-stalking you and finishing my glass of wine. I loved this post even more the second time around. We agree on being surprised about the weather, and I will vaguely say my experiences at our senior center are hauntingly familiar. Is it messed up to want to age into the elderly gems who torture us so?


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