Technology strikes again

I tried to post a blog before now. I went to the website and--uh no--blogger announced that they'd improved themselves. They were better now! These are always scary words for we, the technology-illiterate. I spent several minutes trying to give the website Dr. Phil-like advise about accepting ones shortcoming, loving their inner beauty, and not getting caught up into the trap of keeping up with the Joneses (or in this case, Myspace.) But no, the I'm okay, you're okay philosophy doesn't apply to technology. Where technology is concerned no one is okay, especially those of us who don't even know what Beta is. (I thought it was a fish but apparently not. I can't imagine Blogger announcing that they are no longer using fish on their website.)

I guess I should have known I was in trouble when Blogger used the comparison of Battlestar Galactica. The difference between the new and old Blogger is the same difference between new and old Battlestar Galactica!

Yikes, I loved the old Battlestar Galactica (see my biography page) and haven't been able to bring myself to watch much of the new series because, hello, Starbuck is a girl and so is Adama. Though I do admit that the Apollo is still cute . . .sigh . . .what was I talking about again?

Anyway, so I'm still posting using the old method and there may be a long blog break while I try load and navigate the new one.

Note to the people at Blogger: Learn to love yourself, fish and all!

And the windows need to be cleaned too . . .

Have you ever wondered what authors did in-between books? Right now I'm waiting for revisions on Revenge of the Cheerleaders. I walked into Home Depot and suddenly became Martha Stewart. "I can do that project, and that one, oh, and that one too . . ."

Eight hours into faux painting an accent wall in my family room, I'm having second thoughts. Sure, it looks great, but my designer friend, Angela, says I should do it in the kitchen too. Did I mention it took me eight hours to faux paint one wall?

Besides, I'm not sure a paint job, even a faux one, can save my kitchen. My maple cabinets (which I paid extra when I moved into the house, mind you) have turned an orange color. I'm not sure why. I'd like to do a tile back splash to dress up the place but the Home Depot expert says I shouldn't do this until I've done my countertops. (In my overly optimistic fantasy world I am one day going to replace them with granite, or marble, or perhaps a slab of gold. Which ever is cheapest.) But I can't sink a large amount of money into my countertops until I'm positive that I don't want to change my cabinets, which lets face it, I do. I mean they're orange. Why wouldn't I want to replace them?

So instead of a tile back splash, a slab of gold, or new cabinets I'm going to faux paint the place and hope this somehow turns the room from drab to charming.

It makes me want to get started on revisions again.

Forget reading faces

You can tell a lot by reading faces, but why bother? In my case, you can learn everything about what's going on in my life simply by taking a glance at my fingernails. Are they long with colored polish? Things are going great. Are they short with clear polish? Something is stressing me out. Are they ragged and look like they've been through a cheese grater? The stress is mounting. Are they in my mouth? I'm behind on a book schedule.

Right now I'm so far behind in writing, that if I bite my nails any more I won't have any fingers left.

My editor said she wanted the book in November. I should have it to her by November 45th or so . . .