This is better than telling you about my day, promise

Usually when I go force myself to endure thirty minutes of tedious brain-numbing exercise, I come home with at least a paragraph or two waiting to be hammered out. Not so tonight, Internet. I'm blaming it on my day, which was miserable, not because the kids were so dreadfully horrible but because for some reason today I woke up a little less equipped to deal with the regular amount of horrible. I am so tired of being whined at. So very tired. 

I didn't come home with any novel or blog fodder, but I did think of how to acquire some: ask you for help. So. It appears I've come to a point in my plot-less, pointless, terribly written YA novel where I have to write a party scene and the humiliating thing is that I have no experience on which to draw. I have no idea what happens at high school parties in someone's parents' basement. I know what happens when a bunch of girls basketball teammates have to sleep in a classroom on a Friday night, I know what happens when you're getting ready to go dancing at midnight, I know what happens when you've graduated but you're home on Christmas break and you break your own rule about getting in cars with strange people and the carabinieri stop you on the way down hill from the Paradiso because you have so many kids packed in the car but then you find out they think your driver was drinking OMG (SORRY MOM! EVERYTHING TURNED OUT OKAY!) but parties? Not so much. 

This is where you come in. Your job is to leave me some story about after hours high school socializing. I will accept any kind, any type, any scenario. I NEED IDEAS. Also: entertainment. My children are slowly sucking away my will to live and YOU have the opportunity to make me laugh. I NEED TO LAUGH, INTERNET. 

P.S. If you're really missing the mommyblog stuff, my curse against two-year molars is up at Parenting on Thursday. 

On writing, which I know bores you, I'm sorry

All I've been doing lately is reading. Well, that and feeding people, doing their laundry, wiping their bottoms, and picking up after them. My job. But when I'm not doing that I am reading. I've burned through a handful of murder mysteries, The Book Thief which I'm just going to come out and say was the most moving thing I've read in a long long time, and last night I fell asleep with Sense and Sensibility. (Because it was free! YAY FREE!) 

But I also went for my measly half-hour neighborhood run last night and came home with MORE thoughts on my OWN writing project. Which I promptly wrote down on a piece of Hello Kitty notepaper, and then went downstairs to watch Sunday night's Mad Men (and eat ice cream. What Anniversary of Hot By Thirty post?!) 

So today I've decided: more writing, less reading. I mean, the two things are obviously not mutually exclusive. In fact, to do the first you're required to do quite a bit of the second. And yesterday, when the kids (both of them!) slept from one to four-thirty (!) and I spent almost the entire time on the couch with my Kindle sobbing my way to the end of The Book Thief, that felt like recovery. We've had a couple of long weeks and it was nice to sort of escape and sit life out for a few hours. But there are only so many hours in the day where no one is pestering me for anything, and I want to get back on track. I don't want to be the girl who writes annoying blog post after annoying blog post about her WRITING and never actual WRITES anything. 

(Which is what I am right now.) 

Yesterday I got an email from my friend Emily (Hi Emily!) about local writing classes and crit groups and people she knows who are Living The Dream and it was invigorating, inspiring and totally terrifying all at once. Part of me knows that I can't do this all by myself. Part of me very much understands that I need input and advice and questions and outside perspectives. And then the other, much bigger, part of me thinks that I need a lot more time before I start asking anyone to read what I've written, because it's not in any sort of readable condition yet. 

Of course, knowing me, it will NEVER be in readable condition. MOAN. 

And, okay, maybe I will just PUT THIS OUT THERE and SEE WHAT HAPPENS... but here's a thought I've had for a good long while... are any of YOU open to a crit group? Maybe? Perhaps? I know some of you are writer types. I have even brought this up with some of you in emails. I wonder if there's a way to pull it off online. I don't know. Quite honestly, I am just as afraid of you as I am of random real life crit grouppers.

(Picture me fleeing the room and hiding behind a large potted plant.)

How about we talk other stuff instead. Like how hot it is, and how yesterday afternoon felt like my melting point, even though it was hardly the hottest day of the year so far. And how I think I might take my kids to the free children's movie tomorrow, because it's going to be hot then too, even though they've never been to a movie and it might be a flat out disaster. Or, um, how I'm going to have to throw out the blueberries because everyone is tired of Blueberry Baked Goods and the kids won't eat them anyway. And oh right, something about an Anniversary of a Weight Loss Deadline, Thoughts On, but I have two other contractually required posts to write so we'll see if I get any other writing done today. Can't go around ruining my rep as the girl who whines about Her Novel rather than writing it, right?!