Where are you Mr Window Cleaner Man

The window cleaner man is really pushing his luck.

Yesterday, after an hour of having unspeakable things done to my teeth (and was greeted with the even happier news that I need more unspeakable things done in three weeks AND will be up for a crown if I keep clenching - well of course I clench - I have small children). Anyway, I digress.

So I have unspeakable things done to my teeth, arrive home expecting spotless windows but the smears, mildew and fingerprints are all still firmly adhered to the glass.

Not impressed.

Apparently the Window Cleaner Man had a disaster. It'd better have been an 'I got entangled in powerlines' type disaster. Hmm.

Now, upon his promise that he'd arrive today between 1 and 2pm, I am peering out the window like a demented meercat and counting the minutes. Got the kids down for an early nap, have swept driveway (so they don't walk dirt into the house - like its going to make a difference!), eaten lunch, done the washing up.

Where is he.

I want my windows clean.

Grrr.

Okay, so Mr Window Cleaner turned up. In a daggy old car, 45 minutes late. Knocks on the door which I grumpily stomp to answer, whining child attached to hip and dog in hot pursuit.

"Allo, I yam Pierre," he husks.

"ELLA," I screech at the dog as she makes a bolt for freedom, stop her with my foot, dump child, grab dog.

"You h'are verry busy, I sink?' he says with a perfect smile, perfect teeth, perfect French accent, perfectly tanned with perfect sandy coloured hair...

"Wibble," I say. Then, to my eternal mortification I blush scarlet. Yes, she who writes salacious lurve scenes, has two children and if she hasn't don't it all then she's certainly seen it all, is utterly thrown by an unexpectedly hunky window-cleaning guy. Note he is now a guy (say mid-20s).

I've had a lovely afternoon. Pierre kept the kids occupied (they followed him around supervising window-cleaning) and I happily made cups of tea and drinks of water for him and tried to think up more scintillating conversation than Wibble. Mmmmm.

I can feel a M&B developing out of all this!

Miss Bugalugs - hell bent on self-destruction

Miss Bugalugs, now aged 2 and a bit, has always been full on. Her older sister is a laid back little girl, who seems to have a inbuilt danger radar and even at three displays more common sense that some adults I know. Miss Bugalugs didn't get that gene, and I tend to live in dread of what she's going to do next.

See that bruise? Yesterday she climbed up on one of our outdoor chairs (heavy, wood) toppled off and then the chair fell on her. Huge bruise on her forehead and a matching egg on the back of her head. Have been watching closely for signs of concussion, equally reactive pupils, tiredness - not easy when a) she's got a cold, and b) she's got one hell of a headache. I think she's okay. She seems to be okay. Oh, maybe I should be whisking her off to Emergency for a brain scan...

Sigh.

Then, if she hadn't stressed me out enough, this morning I was doing some digging in the garden around the pool. The kids were helping and I was watching them very closely. I do not take chances around our pool.

However.

You know when you can see an accident about to happen and time slows down. Miss Bugalugs overbalances and stumbles sideways, I am there in two strides but I just don't quite make it. With a quiet plop she falls in the pool.

Do you have any idea how cold the water is at the moment?

I admit I hesitated. But not for long. She bobbed up, clearly trying to swim, and all I had to do was fish her out.

Splash she says, as I stand her dripping and shivering on the side.

Splash, I agree. Then she lunges for the water again.

SIGH.

Three stars from Romantic Times

Woo hoo! Running Scared got three stars from Romantic Times. Am most chuffed. Just waiting on a copy of the review, will post as soon as I get it.

High Speed

Many thanks to dear Lyn for coming up with a cover for High Speed. Perhaps just a tad less classy that I would've imagined, but when it comes to doing my art forms (when and if it gets sold!) I'm SO going to keep this in mind.

I've just finished chapter 14, and am 60,000 words in. Phew! On the downward slope towards the end and its all about to go completely pear shaped for poor Alex my heroine. Yes, she was previously called Chris, but hubby was doing some proof reading and couldn't figure out who was the hero and who was the heroine (it was a lurve scene and he got worried he was reading about manlove), so I've changed her name.

Am not envisaging further hiccups, although if you'd asked me last week I would've started beating my head on the desk. Had one of those uh-oh moments when I realised my heroine had no personality and the plot didn't make sense. But I'd just sort of wandered off course with the storyline and was blathering on. Did quite a bit of deleting, which hurt a lot and required krispy kremes to soothe the pain, but the scenes I had to add were a breeze and its all coming together nicely.

Four weeks to go and 20,000 words. Yeah. I can do that!

Avast me hearties!

'Tis talk like a pirate day. Me first duty this sunny morn (do pirates say sunny morn? hmm, lets assume they do. I can see I'm not really cut out for this pirate thing) yarrrr, is to follow yonder link and discover me pirate name. Yarrrr.

'Tis Scurvey Gums Val.

After I've consumed my noggin of rum and shivered me timbers, I'll haul my bunt well up on the yard, smooth the skin and bring it down well abaft. And then, if hubby gets home late from work I'll stove in his old block house like a rum puncheon.

Yarrr.

Okay I have a headache now.

Though my Mafia name is Tito the Assassin.

hmm.

Aack...

I've got a toothache. Yes. I've finally managed to admit it. Its taken me a week or so of finding excuses, theorising, if you like, about referred pain (yes the large spot on my chin could have led to referred pain in a back molar - it could), things stuck between teeth causing pain due to them being out of alignment (a bit like the stars), and a variety of excuses even worse than those ones. However, upon inspection you can acutally see the hole in the tooth. Am telling self this is good as it will just be on the surface and not require drilling halfway down to my spine or injections that feel like they're going into the chair behind me.

I've just rung Tim, he's been my dentist since I was about 11. He doesn't mind if I cry and bribes me to open my mouth with lollies (sugar free ones -ug). He is used to fielding my carefully thought up 'perhaps I can delay this a bit longer' questions - the last one was does Diet Coke rot your teeth (answer is yes, because its not the sugar that's really bad in Coke but the acidity and Diet Coke is as acid).

Sigh.

At least Nonna has volunteered to babysit.

Simply cannot go on...

Am very fatigued and simply cannot continue. I'm sorry, but I need at least a month somewhere with no cooking, no cleaning and absolutly no children.

Why oh why are they so

1. Noisy


2. Messy


3. Argumentative


4. Picky


5. Dirty


6. Thumb sucky?

Hmm?

I'd like a quiet clean one that likes to sit in corners and read books.

Bloody Typical

Its not been the most glorious of weekends. We've had a long weekend for APEC, and its rained and rained. So now, on Sunday night we are coming to the end of a fairly fraught few days.

This morning we had a family outing to the garden centre. My children out did themselves, though I have to say hubby was partly to blame. He gave Miss Beanie his coffee to hold, and she promptly drained the lot. Yes, we then had an hour of her going off her head around the garden centre, wired on caffeine. We lost her twice and just managed to stop her escaping into the carpark. I did not enjoy it.

Nevertheless, through bloody minded determination fulled by a scorching case of PMT I managed to come home with a nice selection of plants. Whilst the little darlings had a nap, hubby and I set to in the garden and planted them all. I have to plant things as soon as I get home, otherwise we have a heatwave and they all die in their little pots.

So, had just finished planting, and had just put on the kettle when hubby appears in the kitchen. We discuss life (well renovating the useless bloody laundry actually), until Hubby unexpectedly rushes from the kitchen f***ing and bl***ing all the way. He'd been backwashing the pool and if you leave it unsupervised it overflows. Of course now all my brand new flowers have been soaked in water that is about 50% chlorine, plus a very nasty algicide.

Marvellous.

$125 worth of plants and a days effort. Just to watch them all die.

Have resolved to return to usual gardening techniques of only growing weeds.

sigh.

Naturally the bit hubby was planting was unaffected.

War on Dust

Spring is here and my delicate sensitive family have been knocked sideways with hayfever. So, once again I've declared War on Dust. War on Dust also includes War on things growing in the Bathroom, and War on Sink Gunge.

Its kept me rather busy which is why the blog entries have been a bit thin on the ground. I just didn't think you'd want to hear about how I levered the middle bit out of the sinkhole and then scrubbed away thick black gunge with Hubby's toothbrush. Or maybe you did?

Hole Update

Its all filled in ready to be paved. Only took half a ton of sand and blue metal. Hubby has blisters and is swaggering about like a real handyman - Just go back to your laptop love, before you do your back in.

Miss Bugalugs made sure it was all properly stamped down.

And why is blue metal called blue metal. Its only chunky gravel? Hmm.

The day finally arrived....

Yes, today the day that I have been dreading for two years finally arrived. My much loved Mother's group, those stalwart and down-to-earth gals who've single handedly kept me sane for the last three years have been reading Running Scared.

I arrived late to Playgroup (oh who am I kidding, I'm always late to playgroup), then scuttled in the door, doing an excellent job of making no eye contact whatsoever. I will not grin, I will not blush, I will not grin, I will not blush, I muttered to myself. I made it as far as the kitchen, and then on being addressed directly made eye contact, grinned and blushed.

Oh God.

We liked it, a lot of nipples and not long enough but we liked it.

Phew. And nobody was throwing it at me and howling that they wanted their money back. Even bigger Phew! Then I found out that Lyn had made her famous slice - dunno what's in it except for sweetened condensed milk, but frankly that's enough for me. Can anyone go past sweetened condensed milk? The rest of the morning unfolded itself most pleasantly (well except for the fact it was freezing cold and we were stuck in a bare echoy room with seventeen feral screaming children all of whom had been given musical instruments, my own cherubs included - but that's another blog post).

As far as critical feedback I thought what MG had to say wasn't bad at all. Am also pleased to point out that forthcoming books are both longer and have hardly any nipples whatsoever. Hurray!

To those who missed my Book Signing

To all the wonderful people who've been emailing me to explain why they didn't show up on Saturday to the booksigning. I don't mind, I'm not offended, I know you support me and I am extremely impressed with the array of excuses. From equine flu to an infected coccyx. I never realised I had so many friends able to get themselves into so much strife!

But seriously, we had a big crowd, I had a great day, and the next book is out in paperback in 2009, so no more booksigning events until then.

Love you all!

The Hole

Yes, after my glam morning being an author, was brought soundly back to earth this arvo by digging out our Hole. Hubby and Grandpa had lots of fun being real men, and waving around crow bars and sledgehammers. I got to keep children and dog from falling in or getting in the way of the sledgehammer. Lucky, lucky me.


So impossibly exciting day tomorrow lugging sand and blue metal into hole. Hurray!

My Booksigning

Yes, that's me at my booksigning. I told you I don't photograph well! But at least you can't see my bright red nose and drippy eyes. Bloody cold. I hate being sick. Why am I always sick, I blame my children.

Still, regardless of the fact I was tanked up on cold&flu drugs (which I had to produce both my staff card and my drivers license to purchase - I mean c'mon), the whole thing went exceedingly well.

Exceedingly.

I signed books, and we sold them all bar one, and I even managed to spell my name right in all of them. Sometimes this is a challenge for me, esp when feeling a bit fuzzy. People showed up who weren't related to me (and therefore had to turn up or suffer the consequences), and I got to flitter about and threaten strangers with drinks, chocolates and bookmarks.

The wonderful Jess Dee popped in (she's another Samhain author), and another local author who writes children's books stopped by to wish me luck as well - I think she said her name was Elizabeth Best, am going to keep an eye out for her stuff. There was some talk of me doing a speech. "No worries," I said confidently, reaching for another glass of champagne. Thank god that little idea never got off the ground.

It was a good day. I feel like a real live author now. Its just annoying that it'll be so long before the next book comes out. Am still reconciling self to snail like pace of publishing industry.

sigh!

Small people who were universally unimpressed with romance books appreciated the large number of chocolates on offer!

Featured Author over at The Romance Studio

Am a featured author for September over at The Romance Studio

There's an interview and a photo!