Crazy Days and Old Friends

Our snowy subdivision this morning.

Hang on a sec. I need more coffee for this post.

I've been so busy this last little while. Busy and depressed and hyper-excited and... did I mentioned depressed? Yah, it happens. Depression hits at the oddest times and for the oddest reasons, but the reason I'm feeling down in the dumps is I'm questioning Nanowrimo and my ability to get it done. Can I whine for a sec? IT'S SO BLOODY HARD. I don't mind writing when I'm in the thick of it, the "zone" as Stephen King describes it and I LOVE writing when it's fecking DONE. That's my favourite writing, the done stuff. I don't mind writing short stories, I enjoy blogging, but sitting down to an entire novel just hurts my lazy-assed head. It literally scares the shite out of me. See? There it is on the floor. A big pile of steaming shite. (Oh wait, sorry, that's cat puke.) There. I'm done whining. I'm behind, yes, but I'm not giving up. In fact, I had a satisfactory session this morning and plan to knock off another 1,000 words this afternoon.

Did you know it's snowing here? Like fecking Christmas, it is. I hate mentioning the weather here in Cold Lake, Alberta, because my Mom is coming to visit us in December and she's freaking out about the cold. Note to self: call her and tell her we paid our gas bill so she doesn't need her parka.

I saw on Facebook this morning that Alberta music icon Jann Arden was working on her novel AT THE SAME TIME AS ME. So I sent her a message, saying we're sameys (which means "stalker," no doubt) and then I had the audacity to send her a link to my free book! HAHAHAHAHAHA! I crack myself up, I do.

So today is FREE BOOK DAY! Starting today, and for the four days after, I'm giving away Friday Girls on Amazon. I'm really trying to get it on Amazon's Top 100 Free Books list. Why? Here's my evil strategy:

1. Being on the list attracts attention from PEOPLE I DON'T EVEN KNOW so I can stop annoying my friends. With me so far? I thought you'd like that part... Getting noticed is the hardest part of being an indie writer. Right now poor Weezie is buried under hundreds of thousands of books. Nobody would notice her if they fell over her, and if they don't notice a book, it doesn't matter if it's the next 50 Shades of Purple, nobody will buy it and Weezie will die. *sob* (She told me she wants lots of crustless sandwiches and good church coffee at her wake.)
2. People who read my free book will be so enamoured of my mad writing skillz that they will seek out other books by the same author and they will buy Green Eggs & Weezie, by the thousands, and I will be rich and famous and be able to afford to order pizza three nights a week. 

That's my whole plan. I know. You're thinking genius, right?

So please. Go download my book. You don't need a Kindle. You don't need a credit card. You just need a computer to download the thing. I don't even care if you read it. Oh wait. That's a lie. But I'll start with you downloading it and then I'll pester you for more ... (evil plan part deux).

Here's the links:

In the U.S., go to Amazon.com.

In Canada, go to Amazon.ca.

In the U.K., go to Amazon.co.uk.

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I wonder if Jann Arden downloaded my book yet?

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More about the book. Sorry. I know. You want to punch me in the face right about now. I'd like to thank the following bloggers for mentioning Friday Girls. If you've got time, drop by and say howdy!

William Kendall says he's something of a rogue and a scoundrel but he's always been super nice to me. Plus he really loves cat photos. How bad can he possibly be?

Kristy, over at Ramblings of a Mad Woman, shoots straight from the hip. That's why I love her. I also love her because she says she loves my writing. You know, which never hurts, right?

Sue Harding over at I Refuse To Go Quietly, is a wonderful gal. We have a lot in common, we absolutely do – like we're old and we hate writing sometimes. Only she knits and I have no idea what a freaking purl is. I tried to be witty over on her post. You can be the judge on whether or not I succeeded.

Alex J. Cavanaugh is probably known to most of you – and to most of the planet! He's the bestselling author of three space/science fiction novels and he's probably got the most popular blog on the whole wide web. Lucky me, everyone's favourite ninja gave me a shout-out.

If I've missed anybody, please let me know. And if anyone else wants to post a link, I will be your BFF forever. Y'know, or for a day or two. Depends how much coffee you have ...

***

Maybe Jann Arden will want to be my new BFF now. Wouldn't that be great? She lives just down the road from me. We could eat nibs together. And walk our dogs. And wear each other's clothes...

***

Today is the Oh, How I Miss You Blogfest in which participants, like me, list the bloggers I miss and list the bloggers I would miss, were they to drop off the face of the planet or be eaten by maggots or accidentally fall in their chipper shredder.

The way things are going in blogland, my list of absentee bloggers could be really long. But I'm going to limit it to three:

Alan W. Davidson
Alan, I miss you... you and your Newfoundland shenanigans and your gentle nature and that fecking ridiculous red fez you sometimes wore. I miss you so much I even miss that stupid fez. I met Alan through #FridayFlash and was wowed by his storytelling skills. He wrote a story about a dog in a Walmart parking lot that I still think about, years later. Please come back to the bloggy world, Alan. It's not the same without you, bud.

Laurita Miller
This seems to be a theme. Laurita – dear, sweet Laurita – has the classiest blog I've ever seen. Calling Shotgun combined her thoughtful, wonderful writing and beautiful photographs. She told stories about The Rock that inspired me so much I just had to visit. And meeting Alan and Laurita was one of the highlights of my entire life. Unfortunately I can't provide a link to Laurita's blog because it's open to invited readers only. But trust me, it was wonderful.

CJ Hodges MacFarlane
CJ introduced me to #FridayFlash, which literally changed my life. For a while there we were hot and heavy, writing back and forth, talking on the phone but, unfortunately, life got in the way and we drifted apart. She doesn't blog anymore either, and that is just a crying shame. I loved her spark, loved her talent, loved her whole big generous personality and I miss her like crazy.

Honestly, I don't want to list bloggers I would miss. Because I would miss all of you. And that's the truth. Y'all make the world a better place and I may not get around to you all the time, because I'm a selfish idiot, but when I do I'm always impressed with what you've done with the place. Keep on keeping on, because you're special, and if you were to stop writing, I would miss you. oxo

To see other bloggers taking part in the blog hop, visit Alex's blog. He's got the list!

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Jann Arden hasn't called yet. Damn!

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Today is also my friend Mark's birthday. Happy birthday, ya old fart! (He's the same age as me. I'm allowed to say that.)

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And one more thing... are ya still there? WAKE UP!!! Geez Louise...

Fellow #FridayFlash writer Janel Gradowski released her second book in The Bartonville Series this week. The Queen of Bad Decisions follows up on Must Love Sandwiches. These books are well-written, smart, funny and FAST. Janel's idea is to give busy people enough of a taste to curb their reading appetite, so each book in the series includes a novelette, two short stories and a few recipes.

The characters in her books all live in an artist's colony and, because Janel's a foodie, she always makes food as important as her lively characters. Happy launch, Janel! I hope you sell books like hotcakes!




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Oh wait! Come back! I lied – I do have one more thing. Recently I won some bling from CBC's Canada Reads promotion and yesterday it arrived! Check out that awesome book bag and three books from Canadian writers. Jealous? You oughta be! Now go download my free book. Go on! Git!

Laurita Miller - Letter from a Friend

Laurita Miller - bundled up because baby, it's cold outside.

I was having a bad day. In the throes of getting a chest cold, exhausted from a four hour car ride and a weekend of winter camping, emotional because I was picking on that lovely husband of mine, for absolutely no reason, I wasn't in the best of shape, to be sure. Then I opened up my laptop and saw I had a letter from a friend.

I opened it eagerly and didn't even read it all the way through before I started sobbing like an idjit. The idea of Laurita Miller, visiting her beloved homestead, was so beautiful, so simple and yet so vivid, that I was overcome.

Maybe it helps to know how ingrained rural Newfoundland is to someone like Laurita; maybe it helps to know Laurita a little bit. Because, to me, she is a poster child for everything that is warm and wonderful about 'The Rock.' We met in the fall of 2010. Dave and I were on our honeymoon. He'd barely been out of Ontario before. I'd never been to Newfoundland. We wanted to go somewhere neither of us had ever been, and we wanted to explore more of Canada. We also wanted to meet two of my favourite blogging buddies, Alan W. Davidson and Laurita Miller.

We had the best day imaginable. Alan and Laurita are truly good people. The best – and I don't say that lightly. You just don't meet up with folks like them often. When you do, you realize what treasures they are, and how lucky you are to have come across them.

Laurita is thoughtfully intelligent, funny and sassy, warm and generous. She shaved her head to raise money to fight cancer. She is deeply involved in her children's lives. She loves her husband fiercely, like she married him yesterday. Family, I think, is more than just a word to Laurita. It's everything, as important to her as breathing. I'm just guessing, when I say that – I know, pretty presumptuous. But I do believe it's true.

Laurita lives in a suburban environment near St. John's, the capital of Newfoundland, but she was raised in the countryside, next to the ocean, and salt and honest Newfoundland spirit runs thick in her veins.

My father was a railroad engineer and we moved several times in my young life, to the point that I don't really know where my hometown is. I don't feel any kinship to any particular place. Laurita knows exactly where she's from. And when she writes about it, my heart sings.

Laurita Miller is one of the finest writers I know. Her blog, Calling Shotgun, is one of my favourite haunts. Some day, mark my words, she will be famous. I can hardly wait to say I knew her when.

I am so honoured to share her letter with you.

Dear Cathy:

I hope this letter finds you well and making fantastic progress on that novel of yours. I can’t wait to read what you’ve done.

Things are quieting down here after the holidays. The kids are back to school and I think I’ve finally managed to eradicate all the glitter from the house. That stuff gets everywhere.

I hopped in my car today, taking advantage of the lull, to go check on my old homestead. After all the craziness, I needed the break. I love the drive, though it takes over an hour to get here. It’s relaxing to travel a road that’s so familiar.  

The first thing I did was take a walk around the house, through the garden and the woods, checked the barn and filled all the birdfeeders. The pond was well frozen and, once I made sure no one was watching, I had a little slide around. I ended up on my behind more than once, so I’m glad there was no one to see.

It was one of those damp days, where the cold just seeps into your bones, so I lit the fireplace as soon as I went inside. The wind was up by then, and from the window I could see the whitecaps on the water. White horses on the harbour, my grandfather would call them. I always loved that saying. Newfoundland is a bleak place in the winter, but I think it might just be my favourite time. Sitting there, warm in my old home, looking out at the wind and water – can you think of a better way to spend some quiet time?

There’s also something very comforting about sleeping in my old room. I loved waking up in that room, to the sound of the birds in the trees outside, the boats in the harbour, and that stupid, clumsy seagull who would land on the roof – whump – and then run the whole length of the house – thump, thump, thump, thump.

Tonight I’ll walk down the harbour and visit my aunt and my grandfather, sit in that nice warm kitchen for a cup of tea and a chat. Then tomorrow I’ll head back over that familiar road to my house in Chaos Town. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I start to miss the madness after a bit.

I hope you come visit me again someday. I would love to take you to all these places, but maybe in the summer when the temperatures and landscape are a little more friendly.

Take care, my friend. I look forward to chatting again soon. Give my best to all your boys.

Laurita

The rolling blueberries and Canadian Blog Awards

You know, when you've just rolled out of that sweet, comfy spot in the middle of the double-wide, and you're plopped on the Big White Throne having that morning tinkle, the first and best tinkle of the day, and you suddenly hear an explosion of FECK, FECK, FECK out in the kitchen, that it would be wise to slither back down the hall and stealth your sorry (but narrowing) buttocks back to the sheets. 

You know that – intellectually – right? But asking, "What's wrong, sugar-pie, honey-bunches?" is as irresistible as rubbernecking at a car wreck.

And thus I wandered into the kitchen in my ever increasingly baggy and attractive gotchies to see my husband crawling around the kitchen floor, cursing like a sailor with a pocketful of new cusses. He was picking up blueberries. Tons of blueberries. Two clamshell containers of blueberries, to be exact.

"The feck-feckitty-fecking things EXPLODED," he growled.

Exploding blueberries. 

Huh, I thought. 

I surreptitiously slunk back to the bathroom and ran some water while I hid behind the shower curtain. When the fecking and the growling was done and I heard my honey-bunny's voice say, in its regular happy tone, "Hey, where are you," I came out all casual-like, pretending I was oh-so-busy cleaning something or washing something or, you know, doing unmentionable bathroom stuff.

That's my tip of the day, people. When there's rolling blueberries and fecking in the kitchen, run like the wind. (I didn't get to be my advanced age without wind-running.)

OH. And by the WAY. The lovely Mizz Thang Laurita Miller, who is all that and a bag of partridgeberries, the Queen of all things Writerly in Newfoundland, dropped me a line yesterday to say she discovered we were BOTH nominated in different categories of the Canadian Blog Awards. Luckily we are in different categories because Laurita would kick my butt all the way to Labrador in any kind of contest. Last year she won first prize in the CBA's culture and literature category (big woots to you, Mizz Thang!) so, as you can clearly see, Laurita is a creative force to be reckoned with.

The CBAs are a voting contest. People everywhere are invited to visit the CBA website and vote in each of the many categories. If you would like to vote for Laurita, you can find her Calling Shotgun blog in the Culture and Literature category, as well as Best Blog Post. (She is very deserving in both and I have already voted for her – I hope you do, as well.) 

If you would like to throw a vote my way, go to the Best Personal Blog category. There's a ton of competition in this category and it has been won by the same fellow for the last several years. So if you can find it in your heart to give this champion a run for his money, well, by all means feel free to vote for me!!!!! 

You only get one vote in this leg of the competition, which closes on Christmas Eve. After that, though, the five finalists in each category will go through another round of voting. So if you really want to vote for Laurita and I (me and Laurita? I never get that straight), you can vote again after Christmas.

Thanks to Laurita and Paula and all my friends for the Facebook support. And to Liz, Kelly, John, Debi, Mandy and Debbie, who wrote amazing, touching, wonderful comments on the CBA website (brought me to tears, they did), thank you from the very bottom of my heart. Hugs to you all!

NOW, LET THE WILD VOTING RUMPUS BEGIN!

No Jann Arden for me

Yesterday I was, like, JANN ARDEN IS COMING TO HUNTSVILLE! And then three minutes later I was, like, HER CONCERT'S SOLD OUT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I JUST FOUND OUT!

Sorry about the all-caps. But that was my face, one big round all-cap. I love Jann Arden, are you kidding me? I've been trying to see her in concert since forever and every damned time I get wind she's going to be performing anywhere near my neck of the woods, she sells out in 30 seconds. OK, so I exaggerate. Maybe it's more like 45 seconds. She was in North Bay a couple of years ago but I missed her because I wasn't quick enough. Toronto – not quick enough. Both cities are a ways away from me but I was willing to make the drive because, as I have said, I loves me some Jann Arden.

Then, yesterday, I found out she would be performing in Huntsville, which is 20 minutes up the road! Twenty minutes! Jann Arden! I was woot-wooting all over the office ... until my workmate, Lynda, discovered the concert was already sold out.

Excuse me. I must pause. I'm tearing up again.

When I finished pouting and wailing I got busy and started my Stalk Jann Arden Campaign. I sent her about a 406 messages on Twitter trying to weasel a ticket out of her stellar self. I think I even promised her an interview here on my blog (that hardly anybody reads because it's been so boring lately, and hey, I can't blame you) thinking that Muskoka River blog coverage would give Jann the publicity, fame and fortune she has so far been sadly lacking. Yes, I think that's what every celebrity needs, a post here at the River.

Mizz Arden, sadly, did not get back to me. Probably she was too overwhelmed by my offer, I'm thinking. But. And here's a pretty cool but (not that kind of butt) – SHE STARTED FOLLOWING ME ON TWITTER!

Now I'm all weirded out. The pressure to tweet only good stuff is intense, so I'm not tweeting anything at all. Not that I tweet a lot to begin with but, still. Jann's listening. So do I pretend to be all cool, like I don't notice that she's following, just like when you're in high school and a cute boy walks by and you're like la-dee-dah-dee-dah at your locker, pretending your heart isn't in your tonsils? Or do I get all smarmy and send her smeemy messages like, "Thanks for the follow, Jann." Or, the classic, "how's it going, eh?" because she's Canadian and probably likes having other Canadians say eh to her a lot.

On a completely different note, also requiring all-caps, I WAS DOWN ANOTHER FOUR AND A HALF POUNDS LAST NIGHT AT WEIGHT WATCHERS!!!!!!!! Woot! Woot! Root beer toot! That's 19 pounds in six weeks, NOT THAT I'M COUNTING or anything!

Who's dancing all over the kitchen right now?

P.S. So I just saw Laura Eno's comment... Laura, get outta town, you don't know who Jann Arden is???? Won't do, sistah, won't do at all. Here's one of her biggest hits – take a couple minutes to listen and tell me you still don't know who she is!!! Also, thanks for accepting all my poundage! I sincerely appreciate that! (And hugs to Laurita and Delores - love you guys!)

And then she said

I've got blog-blank-page-itis. I'm staring at this screen thinking, there is absolutely nothing new in my life but there is, actually, I just have blog-blank-page-itis.
I have new hair, for starters. Tracy at The Renaissance in Bracebridge gave me a sassy slanted bob. The back is cut to army regulation, right at the hairline, and the front is cut to my jawline. Almost all of the dead-kilt-by-blonding hair has been chopped off and what's left of it has been dyed to a satisfyingly rich chestnut brown.

I remind myself of my cousin, Kelly. Kelly, if you're reading this, I look just like you for some reason. I mean, I probably look nothing like you but when I look in the mirror I'm all, "hey Kelly, how's it going?"

Oh, and I have a new exercise bike. I now have a treadmill, an eliptical and a bike, which is practically an entire home gym, so why do I still look like the side of a barn? I am working on that. This week has been another good one, diet-wise. I'm finding the Weight Watchers program easy-peasy and the built-in cheat mechanisms mean I'm not going hungry. Tonight's my Monday weigh-in/meeting and I'm hoping for another couple pounds down the drain. Or should I say down the toilet. When you eat as many vegetables as I do, you spend a lot of time whizzing. So anyway, I've been feeling real thin. The bathtub is getting wider, my clothes are loosening up and I have a ton of energy. But then I went into Canadian Tire on Sunday and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the security mirrors and I couldn't reconcile the old fat woman in the mirror with my sleek new self. (Who has self-image problems? heh) Who cares what I looked like in the stupid mirror – I was there to buy a bicycle and get all fit!

I've been faithfully riding my bike up and down the road for a few weeks now but was stymied last week by work and social schmoozing and couldn't get out on my bike at all. When I had time it was pouring rain. Not to mention the days are already getting shorter and soon the snow will be on the ground. I didn't want to give up all that pedalling goodness so I decided an exercise bike was the ticket. Yes, I have a treadmill and an eliptical but I have bad knees and I really can't take the impact. The bike lets me sit on my arse and pedal without knee stress. So I went to Wal-mart because our local Canadian Tire doesn't sell exercise equipment, and bought a recumbent bike for $299 plus tax. On Sunday Dave put it together and the damned thing wouldn't work. The electronics were all screwed up. So we took it back and then went down the road to the Gravenhurst Canadian Tire where we picked up a way-better bike for a way-better price. This bike was regularly $399, on sale for $199. Bargoon, eh! I don't know why I buy anything at Wal-mart. First of all I hate the way they treat their employees and their business practises. And a lot of the stuff they sell is just crap. Live and learn, I guess. Having said that, you'll probably see me there next week.

I'm hoping all my friends on the east coast are doing OK in the wake of Hurricane Irene. I've been watching the news and crossing my fingers for you, hoping and praying you're safe and sound and dry.

Speaking of weather, I had to laugh this morning while watching Canada AM. The weather guy, Jeff, announced that the temperature high in St. Johns, Newfoundland, would be 27 degrees C. "Finally," he said, "they're getting summer temperatures just as summer is over." When Dave and I were in Newfoundland last October it was as hot as hades. I packed sweaters but I should have brought shorts. Ninety degrees in the shade, it was. Oh well. To Laurita and Alan and the folks, enjoy it while you can!

Because you need a laugh

Go here. Trust me. You will laugh.
Siren makes me laugh out loud. She's wry and witty and sarcastic, but nice. She's been through hell and back (oh god, read her older posts about her horrible young life and you will weep) and now she's carving out a nature-loving life for herself with her partner, Diane, and a bunch of pets. I've come to admire her and thought you might, too.
The post I'm referring you to? About the Bruces? It's an original. Never. Seen. Anything. Quite. Like. It.

Harry B. Sanderford asked how I could hate touching fish so much when I go fishing all the time. Well, Harry, going fishing has nothing to do with touching or eating fish! Dave baits my hook, takes the fish off the line and he throws the fish back. See? No fish are involved! Salmon sandwich on the counter? That's a whole different kettle of fish.

I just noticed somebody cut down a dead tree in our front yard. I was out late – came home in the dark, and Dave was half asleep when I rolled in. Funny, he never mentioned cutting a tree down. You'd think when I asked him how his night was he might have referred to cutting down a tree. Kind of a major bit of news. But there it is. A chopped up tree. Huh. Excuse me while I go outside in my pajamas and take a picture. For evidentiary purposes. Just in case there is a mad man with a chainsaw running around the neighbourhood cutting people's dead trees down.

One more thing: I am NOT shaving my head. OK? Even though y'all want me to shave my head. My head is not pretty like Laurita's head. Trust me. Or even Mike's head. My head shall not be shorn in the best interest of those who pass by. I know. I'm noble.

OK, OK, so one more thing. Have you voted for the Best of Friday Flash Reader's Choice story yet? You should! I just happen to have a story nominated, you know, if you can't decide who to vote for, mine is, ahem, available. Y'know, if you need a suggestion... you know me, always trying to help... Here's the link... go to the bar on the right hand side and click madly.  And thank you. Really. Thank you.

Momster Tales

I have a secret. Shhhh! Hardly anyone knows about it so be very, very quiet. It's a new blog, okay? A mommy blog. Don't you be turning your nose up, I saw you, don't deny it. Just because you a) don't have kids, or b) don't like kids, or c) all of the above, doesn't mean you won't like what I'm sellin' ya. You'll like it because it's funny and it's really well-written. Really, really well-written. Try saying that three times fast.

Here's the secret-secret part, it's partly written by someone you know. Yup, you know her. You even love her. You do, you do, you do.

And nope, not telling you who she is. You'll just have to guess.

This post? Killed me.

Notice I am the only comment. Remedy that, would you?