I could claim that real-life unbloggable things have been keeping me away from my computer and that's why I'm not blogging much lately. But in actual fact the reason I haven't been blogging much lately is because I've been working on my novel. And eating cake. Cake is very motivating when you're writing a novel.
Those of you who pine for my insightful and witty writing (ha) don't have much hope, since this novel needs at least one more full draft before people can read it without their brains exploding and dribbling out their ears from the sheer inanity of me discussing at length what my characters have for dinner. (My beta reader is always commenting on how often my characters eat. Food is important, okay? We can't all live off beef jerky and ramen like some people's characters.)
Speaking of food and cake: For his birthday, my parents got Scott a whole bunch of steak. It was the best birthday present ever. (I say that and it wasn't even my birthday. Maybe I'm just projecting.) We ate some for Scott's birthday celebration (which was two days after his actual birthday; you can't eat steak on a Friday), but the rest has been sitting in our freezer waiting for a "special occasion." Last week, while making the grocery list, I suggested that we have some for Labor Day since Scott had the day off and everything. That's a special occasion, right?
Well, Scott did not think Labor Day counted as a sufficiently special occasion, and it's his steak, so I kind of have to defer there. Don't worry, though! I thought it over for a minute and then suggested that the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin (September 8) was a sufficiently important holiday and required steak. Scott agreed. Yay!
I decided that while we're having steak I might as well go all-out and make cheesecake. I've been wanting cheesecake ever since I was too disorganized to make my ex-roommate a cheesecake for her birthday last year. (Her birthday is May 13, which was the day before we graduated. By the time I finished finals everyone with cars had left campus.) Scott has said that if I want cheesecake I should just make it, but it seemed like the sort of thing that should be saved for a special occasion.
When you were children, dear readers, did you ever say to your parents something like: "When I grow up I am going to eat cake EVERY DAY"? And your parents always replied that when you are a grown-up you have to do boring things like go to work and pay the bills and it is nothing but unending drudgery?
Well, going to work and paying the bills is unending drudgery (says the happily unemployed woman, having sent her husband off to the salt mines), but it turns out that when you're an adult you CAN eat cake every day. You might get lectured about it by your physician, but if you're willing to accept the consequences...
Instead of belaboring this point, I will leave you with two XKCD comics.
Update: I can't get the embed option to work, so go here and then here.
Given events that transpired this past weekend (namely, me bursting into tears because THE STUFF NEVER ENDS for the first time in 3 or 4 months), Scott and I decided that the "Save everything for the weekend" method (mentioned here) is not sustainable long-term. See, if I save everything for the weekend, then Saturday night (or Monday night, in the case of Labor Day weekend) sends me into a panic spiral because anything that didn't get done has to be put off for another whole week and and and...You get the picture.
Sometimes Scott and I have these arguments where we talk past each other because he's using logic to approach the problem and I'm using emotions. I mention this only so I can brag because I actually notice when I'm doing this now and am usually able to tell Scott that I am not looking to have a logical discussion; I just need to have my emotions acknowledged and validated so I can move on to the logical part myself. (Okay, usually I phrase it as, "NO. THOSE ARE MY FEELINGS, YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT THEY ARE BECAUSE I'M THE ONE WHO FEELS THEM." I am very mature.) This is progress because I used to maintain that I am entirely logical all the time and I would fight to the death when I didn't have a leg to stand on because if I lose the logical argument it means my feelings don't count. Or something. I don't understand this all myself; my brain is weird.
Then again, I tend to fight to the death even when I am approaching a problem logically rather than emotionally. For some reason, my brain thinks that if I concede a point to someone, I am giving them total authority to dictate what I am allowed to think. And they can't do that because my thoughts are MINE, NOT YOURS, AND I CAN THINK WHATEVER I WANT.
I'm sure there's a reason Scott married me, but I'm not at all sure what it is.
Also in the file of "Why did you want to live with me again?": Some conversations from last night.
Scott: "Did the light just flicker?"
Me: "I DON'T KNOW. I can't pay attention every time something smells funny or there's a weird sound or the lights flicker because if I did I'd spend my life huddled in the corner because THE WORLD IS WEIRD....Don't laugh at me; I'm a delicate flower."
(Just so y'all know, "I'm a delicate flower" makes whoever is laughing at you laugh more.)
Shortly thereafter, I am moving some blankets from one box to another. Scott stops next to me and sniffs a couple of times.
Me, sternly: "The blankets are musty. Do not be alarmed."
Scott doubles over laughing.
Me: "Why are you laughing!? I can't win with you."
Scott finally managed to explain that A) He was just sniffing because his nose was stuffy. REALLY. and B) "Do not be alarmed" is just hilarious no matter what.
In my defense, he really does perpetually point out smells and sounds and such and ask if I notice them too. It's annoying.
(In his defense, there really is nothing to do but laugh at me when I'm having one of those days where the drama meter is set to eleven. Don't try that at home, though, kids; Scott is the only one who can get away with it.)
If you got all the way through that post, here are some cute pictures as a reward:
1. Teresa did her schoolwork on top of her swingset's tower earlier this week. Isn't she so pretty?
2. Matthew loves meatballs. (He has FOUR teeth now.)