No, I'm not referring to the fact that I have actually posted within a reasonable amount of time. (Ahem) Nor do I intend to make this entry (much) about real life, but the fact that yesterday came with an annoying surprise in a real life matter (other family terms for such things: hiccup, extra step) did provide some good food for thought about reading and writing romance. Characters surprise writers with, well, surprising frequency, packing up their stuff and tromping off to different centuries or subgenre when we're not looking, giving us no chance but to grab a beverage of choice to go and follow along. I'll never forget the original love interest I gave a long-ago fanfiction character...who was only supposed to be a blip on the radar and obligingly die so character could pursue his canon match.

Umm, no, she told me, quite firmly. First of all, her name wasn't what I thought it was, it was something else altogether, and I'd call her that or nothing at all. Furthermore, she didn't have the job I thought she had, she had a different one, she had a large family when I had thought she was an orphan, and she didn't want the secondary character I'd picked out for her. Oh no, she wanted one of the big guys, and for my information, she was going to get him, and that bit about dying? No. She was going to live, get her man, and eventually made off with him (and other family members a writing partner and I came up with) into a romantic historical world with absolutely no ties to the original source that inspired it.

My current WIP people (calling them characters at this point would likely only make them angry and some of them are rather vocal about it) started out in similar fashion, jostling me out of my misconceptions every step of the way. Rather like a small child's teddy bear while the child runs through an airport. Teddy's head bonks against every orange plastic chair in the terminal, getting quite the view, but it will all end with a seat on a ride to somewhere wondrous. Hopefully in first class, but seriously, as long as I get tea, I'm fine with coach. I think. Can we make that plane a train, or better yet a ferry? Kthanx.

LOLcatspeak. Another surprise. This has worked its way into the vocabulary of many of my friends and family. Not sure how it started, but it did, and it's here, and we're okay with it. We have also adopted our pastor's term, "going off on a bunny trail" to denote veering off topic with no discernible departure point, which it looks like I've done here. ::shrug:: Had to save something for next time, didn't I?

Toenails, the will of God, and a pole-dancing bunny

My pastor once mentioned that when a person is feeling out of sorts for no discernable reason, it may be a good time to check and see if they're doing what they were fashioned to do. Opening a clam with a butter knife isn't going to be good for clam or butter knife. Best to let the butter knife shine next to the butter dish and use the appropriate instrument to open the clam (since I don't do seafood and the hubster is out and about, the name of the thing escapes me) and let's all get on with dinner. In more theological circles, one could call this being in the will of God. Not in a dictatorial sense, but using one's natural assets and abilities.

Bringing things down to earth, I have had multiple occasions when I know the reason I can't think straight is because my toenails are the wrong color. (Hey, I'm intuitive. It makes sense to me.) A quick polish change, and I am once again ready to roll. Maybe it's the actual color, or the mindless, repetitive tasks of applying coats of polish that let my brain sort things out in more important matters. The psychologically minded may postulate that the color of my toenails is something I can control when other life issues go haywire (and those, I let God handle) or that I need to nurture my inherent femininity/girliness (trust me, that will never go lacking. Really.) All I know is that OPI loves me for it, and the love is mutual.

Such was this morning. I'm polishing the time travel, excited about writing again, clipping along at a good pace, and doing some surgery on one of my favorite scenes, but brain was a few hours behind body this morning (maybe that's due to our apartment getting fumigated today, so base camp has been made at a friend's house until the fumes are gone tomorrow) and I came to the place of "I cannot deal right now. Brain not here. Must nap in front of TV." Real cat nap in the presence of real cat (who did not quite know what to make of me doing this strange thing) while discovering that I am not missing a single thing by not watching daytime television, and somewhere in there, my brain showed up for work. Still on a bit of time delay, but I am picking out the new polish color so all will be well soon.

What about the pole dancing bunny? Completely unintentional, I promise, but too funny not to share. Bunny came with me to a writers' conference this past spring, and I plopped him down on the hotel room lamp to snap a picture, and got the image you see above. That's a water glass next to the bunny, thankyouverymuch. Le sigh. A good reminder that things are not always what they look like, and that discrepancy can be good for a laugh in hindsight.