Miss Goody Two-Shoes

Whenever I describe my mother to someone, I get a look. It’s a look I recognize, although I never acknowledge it. It’s a look that says, “you realize you just described yourself, right?”

I can understand this, as my mother and I do have a few similarities. We’re both short. We both frequently have reddish hair. We both seem insanely nice and are easily amused. However in my humble opinion there is a huge difference between us.

Remember how I said we both seem insanely nice? Well, my mother is legit nice and adorable and goodness and sugar and all those things. Apparently she was the perfect child. I’ve heard this from several reliable sources (basically all of her siblings, and her mother). She can’t even get mad properly. Sure, if you’re under the age of three, you might be a little intimidated when she starts yelling gibberish. When she’s really mad, there may even be a curse word included here and there. But let’s be honest, for anyone who’s not a toddler, her random outbursts don’t accomplish anything than making you want to pat her on the head and go “there, there.”

For the record, while no one believes this initially, me when I’m truly angry is actually a terrifying thing to behold. Avoid it.

But the main reason I don’t consider myself to be like my mother isn’t because she fails at being angry, but the larger problem: her goody-two-shoes-ness.

My mother is the ultimate goody two-shoes. So much so, that in our family she is routinely referred to as Miss Two-Shoes. The goody isn’t even implied, it’s just known.

I swear too I’m not saying this because the rest of the people in my family are deviants that like to torture each other, and in comparison my mother comes off like a saint. My mother legitimately seems compelled to follow the rules that everyone else feels free to ignore, whether they be actual laws or mere social conventions. 

For instance:

• She is the only person I know who actually comes to a full stop at the guard shack when leaving the gated community where my parents live. The guards barely give a f*** who’s coming into the community, let alone who leaves. She also insisted throughout our childhood on telling them every time a visitor was coming. To be clear on how unnecessary this was, if you smile and wave, or just say you’re going to the pool or ski lodge, they let you through.
•   She is the first to volunteer for her church, her community, or any random cause that comes hither. Sometimes to switch it up she donates. Or does both, and then also “recruit” her kids into it. Every time I call her she’s either canning soup, making candy, or setting up for a fundraising event. If other people aren’t hitting the quotas on candy production, she complains once, feels bad about it, and then makes more.
•  She feels compelled to follow all directions. This includes assembly directions in a box, directions when traveling, as well as signs saying “stay off the grass.” If she is with someone who ignores these directions (like my father) she has a special face of disdain and superiority, indicating that this will end in misery and it will not be her fault since she wanted to follow them (you’d know the face if you saw it).

Whereas I have never considered myself a goody two-shoe because my moral code is all over the place. I don’t want to give examples because that would provide concrete evidence against me, but trust me, there’s some deviousness sitting pretty in my corner.

So you can imagine my surprise when a few weeks ago, I realized that I too might be a goody two-shoes. This was mainly due to NaNoWriMo. If you don’t remember this from previous years, it stands for National Novel Writing Month. I am yet again attempting a novel (which is why there won’t be a surplus of posts from me for awhile). I had a whole month of debate though on whether or not to do it, because the thing is that I have like 5 days where I won’t be able to write because I’m visiting my family. This gives me a condensed writing schedule. While it’s doable, because my friend Erin did it last year, I had doubts.

I was discussing it with my mother, my perfect, goody two-shoes mother, and she suggested I CHEAT by starting A WEEK EARLY. I spazzed. Was I turning into more of a goody two-shoes? Was she now the devious one? What was happening?

After giving it much consideration, I have decided I am NOT a goody two-shoes. You’re relieved, I know. There are a few random rules I follow and stick to, but it’s not consistent, and it probably goes more along with my general insanity and slight OCD tendencies and whatnot. It doesn’t really come from a desire to “do good.”

However, I also have to say that if I was becoming more like my mother, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. We need those goody two-shoes people to make up for those of us that are running amuck and causing havoc.  

Shuttup and Do It

I’m pretty sure anyone that’s ever actually given birth will kill me for this, but I kind of think of NaNoWriMo like labor.

Last year, I successfully completed NaNoWriMo for the first time. If you’re not up on the lingo, basically a bunch of insane people (including me) attempt to write a novel of at least 50,000 words, the catch being they need to both start and finish it in the month of November. Thus November is NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth.

I talked a little last year about my reasons for doing NaNoWriMo. I checked in almost halfway through the month with an update on my story. I never really talked about the experience afterward.

Why do I think it’s the same as giving birth?

When I finished last November 30^th, I was immensely proud of what I had done, and I promised myself immediately I would never do it again.

A few weeks later, I looked back and was even more proud of my accomplishment, and started thinking maybe in a few more years I’d be ready to do it again.

By this October, I convinced myself it wasn’t that bad and I could totally do it again. In fact, it’d probably be easier since I would go in more prepared than the first time. Oh, the sweet little lies we tell ourselves.

This NaNoWriMo I actually did a little more prep than last year, but I’m not sure how much it’s helping me. My entire timeline changed with pretty much the first chapter. Weird things I wasn’t expecting keep happening, like my main character pissing accidentally herself and having some sort of hair dye fetish. I’ve already killed off three people, and I certainly wasn’t planning on that.

While I’m actually on target with my word count (which is a minor miracle, since I was 10,000 words behind Saturday morning), I also want to finish ahead of time this year since I’ll be spending time with my brother the last few days of the month. At this point it’s equally likely that I say screw it and stop writing, or somehow pull 10,000 more words out of my @ss to finish.

But since this has been more or less taking over the last month of my life, and thus preventing me from update, I decided to share with you, my dear friends, the first chapter of the story!!

Keep in mind there will be typos. There’s really no looking back with NaNoWriMo, just moving forward. Someday if I finish and decide not to forget this whole mess ever happened I made go back and fix things, but that day is not today.

So here it is, the first chapter of my insane zombie story!

Above Reproach

Chapter 1

I’ve never really understood why we’re so rigid about the rope rules. Who exactly do they think is going to climb the ladder if we leave for a few minutes? The grounders? The day zombies get smart enough to climb we’re going to have a fuckton more problems than worrying about the ropes.

            No one ever listens to me though. They listen to me talk. They love to hear my stories. The minute I turn somewhat serious they close their ears and hum, which is why I’m standing under the lookout whistling the magic tune to get somebody to drop down the rope ladder and let me up. Never mind the fact that they can clearly see me. Allegedly the whistling proves that I haven’t been infected in the ten minutes I’ve been on the ground, and I’m safe to climb up and take over duties.

            It might be me, but these days I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes every time the Three make a new rule.

            The ladder drops and I start to climb. It’s not exactly a ladder in that the rungs are randomly spaced out, and you still have sections of pure rope that require a little bit more concentration to make it up. I can never decide if wearing my gloves makes it harder to navigate those sections or if I’m lucky to have them protect my hands.

You can tell who frequently has lookout duty based on the calluses on their hands. It beats the rope burn at least. There are other ways to tell of course, like who has freaking amazing upper torsos. If we still had a government and leaders and all that, they’d be ecstatic that we’ve beat the obesity epidemic. I can’t decide if people are more motivated to stay in shape because they have a better chance of outrunning a mob of grounders, or if it’s because of the shitty food. Maybe you like a second helping of burned squirrel stew and gummy rice, but I’m good, thanks.

            I’m not entirely surprised when someone reaches down and pulls me up the last bit of rope. I’m going to say that it was a subconscious decision to pick this lookout, but that’s a lie. Pierce always takes this tree. I know this. I’d like to pretend I was unaware that he was out on duty and probably here, but I can admit to myself at least that I wanted to see him.

            “Hey Mink,” he says with a smile. I haven’t figured out yet how he manages to look like a wet dream and somebody I want to punch at the same time. It might be the hair. Given the lack of barbers it tends to erratically hang in his eyes. In another lifetime, like five years ago, I probably would have called him emo and laughed in his face, assuming he had the same hair. More likely he had some super cool douchebag cut that emphasized his strong jawline and let the world see those baby blues. Not that I’ve memorized his face or anything. This thought is purely prompted by the fact that he’s staring at me at the moment. Right.

            Of course that might be because I have yet to respond. I manage a cool nod. We’ve been talking too much recently when we’re both at the lodge. I wouldn’t want him to think we’re becoming friends. I don’t need friends and all the shit that comes with them anymore.

            I give the lookout a quick lookover, but nothing’s changed since I was here last week. Of course Pierce the perfect would have everything in order.

            “How’s the ground movement?” I ask as I set my bag down in the corner. Since we don’t keep any of the food supplies in the lookouts it’s a good excuse to lug my bag around with me. One of these days someone’s going to open it up and find my stash of goods. I’m not the only lookout hoarding junk from the towns, but I don’t kid myself. I’m more likely to be searched at some point. The current Three only trust me so far.

            “Nothing on this end,” Pierce says, and his voice sounds too close. I look up to see he’s followed me to the corner. “They’re losing their juice though, we’re going to need a replace mission soon.”

            I toss my hair, which forces him to back up a step. “We’re going to need a supply mission soon too. The lodge is running low on meds and some of the kids have a fever.” I can’t help it, I feel myself start to grin at him. “I’ll radio in that you should go for supplies if you tell them to send me on replacement duty.”

            Pierce laughs. “Trickster girl. You’re too slow, I already heard from Lookout 2 that we’re heading in for supplies. You’ll be earning no favors from me today.”

            There are so many comebacks dancing on my tongue, but I literally bite it to hold back. That’s the problem with being around Pierce. Even worse, I think he can tell what thoughts are running through my head. His face softens and he steps closer again.

            “Maybe I spoke too soon,” he says. His voice is dangerously low.

            I don’t believe in prayer anymore, but hearing the walkie crackle to life makes me think for a second that the universe might have been sympathetic to my inner turmoil. That would figure, that it cares about the little moments and ignores the problems that ruin your world. I step away from Pierce to answer the call.

            “Lookout 1 reporting, over.” My voice sounds steady. Points to me. Especially since Pierce clearly followed me over. I can feel warmth right behind me, but I’m smart enough not to turn my head. This was my fault. I should never have climbed up that ladder.

            “The Lodge wants all lookouts coming off duty to head to the carport. Send them immediately. Over and out.”

            I feel myself tense even as Pierce moves away to gather his gear. I don’t know who’s voice that was, but I burn with hatred for them.

            “There’s no reason for you all to take a car. All they said we needed was meds. You can carry that back easily.” I glare at Pierce as if it’s his fault that they’re making a simple trip more dangerous.

            “Down get your fur up, Mink, I’m sure the Three have their reasons.” This time Pierce is the one avoiding looking at me.

            I scowl. “All we need to do is call back in. They listen to you. Tell them it’s a bad idea. The grounders are going to be closer than usual.”

            “Maybe that’s why we’re taking a car, so we can outrun them if necessary.”

            “Please,” the word is so hesitant, I feel it shimmering in the air as if the next breath will blow away the memory that it was ever spoken. “Call back in and ask them to let you guys walk.”

            Pierce has already pulled on the straps of his bag and is standing at the rope, but he crosses back to my side of the lookout. I have a few seconds of hope before he gently touches my cheek.

           

            “Trust me, it will be fine. Be a good soldier, Mink.” Before I can decide how to react, what to do, he steps away and yells back, “Besides it’s my turn to drive.”

            He gives me a wink as he goes to start down the ladder. I force myself to say the right thing.

            “In that case it’s definitely not safe.” I unlock my wooden jaw to smile a little as I say it. If we joke around it’s okay. Nothing will happen.

            I wish I believed that still. I wish I could have said what I was really thinking. That we aren’t soldiers. That it might not be fine. And that the Three aren’t always right.

            I go to the window to watch Pierce head off to the carport. He never looks back, so being ready to wave seems pointless. I can’t make myself move away though. From this lookout I’m too far away to see the carport itself, but I can catch glimpses of whoever’s coming down from Lookout 2.

            It’s enough to free me. I don’t really want to know who’s coming down that ladder. I don’t want to spend the next ten hours worrying about anyone else on this supply trip. It would be fine if they were walking, or if we had replaced recently. The grounders get closer though when the scarecrows aren’t fresh, and they’re always attracted to the sound of engines. They might not be smart, but it’s like zombies have an instinct for being in the worse place possible for us. They’ve cut off the return from town before. It’s why lookout and scavenger duties are strictly volunteer work.

            There’s not really enough to do on lookout duty to distract yourself. Pierce kept the place tidy. Half the time I spend the first part of my shift cleaning up after whoever was before me. I make sure the guns are loaded. The walkie clearly is working, so I don’t need to check it. We’ll still do the midshift check-in, but that’s hours away. All I need to do at this point is watch out the windows and listen for the bells.

            My mother was the first to question if the lookouts were even remotely useful or not. As long as we keep the scarecrows fresh the grounders never wander this far in the woods. It’s been weeks since another survivor followed the lights here. I’ve suggested that it would be better to have lookouts stationed on the path to town, but that was shot down in a second. I can’t be the only one to notice that the lookouts, as they are right now, are crowded around the Three. They don’t even really block the Lodge from the town side of the forest. This side is naturally protected by the river, so why are most of the lookouts clustered here?

            These are the questions that plaque my shifts. I settle in at the window as I hear the broken sounds of a car driving too fast for our dirt path. As my eyes adjust to staring at an endless view of trees, I start my mantra. They will not stay grounded. They will return above.

A Year in Books

I realized today as I was memorizing my parking spot number (D2) that I’m probably more of a Star Wars fan than I thought (I visualized R2-D2 to remember it of course). However, my primary geekdom remains and will always be my bookworm habits.

Last year my friend Erin revealed that apparently the average American only reads 4 books a year. She decided to track how many books she read during the year to see how it compared. Given my own love of reading and obsessive tracking habits, I decided to do the same.

Now I didn’t actually start tracking the books I was reading until April (since Erin’s post wasn’t until the end of March to give me the idea), so I don’t have a full year’s worth of data. Even with missing a few months I realized there are actually a lot of interesting trends I could determine from the numbers.

Let’s start with the simple logistics. I had two sheets I used to track information. One was my number sheet where each month I tracked the numbers of books I finished reading during the month. Initially I had broken this down in two columns, print books and iPad books. I quickly decided I wanted a third column to track which books were actually re-reads that I had read at some point before. On the second sheet, I simply listed for each month the name and author of each book I finished reading, highlighting in blue any re-reads. 

As the months passed I realized there were some issues with my tracking mechanisms. Because I didn’t add a book to the sheet until I finished reading it, what would happen frequently is that I would read the bulk of the book one month but finish it the first or second day of the month where it was actually tracked. This shows especially in November. I didn’t do any reading in November because of NaNoWriMo, except that I had a book I was reading that I finished on November first simply because I only had like 40 pages left.

The other main issue is that this setup doesn’t capture all of my reading, only the books completed. I’ve discussed before how I don’t really read in a linear fashion, and many times I start a book and then give up. The thing is sometimes these are VERY large books, and I read 200-300 pages before I give up. That’s a lot of reading that’s not being accounted for!

Still, while keeping that in mind, I think nonetheless I gathered enough information to start identifying some of my reading trends in a year.

Let me throw some numbers at you. I read a total of 65 books from April 1 through December 31^st. Not bad for a year. 40 books were print, 7 were on the iPad, and 18 were actually re-reads.

Typically I read about 6 new books a month. I had a least 1 re-read a month as well, although technically it might average out to 2 per month.  

There were 3 months during the year that bucked the trends a bit, and I find it very interesting to consider what happened during those months.

In July, I actually read 12 new books. My first thought was maybe I had started a very engaging new series, but looking back at which books they were, actually only 2 were in the same series.

August was the next month that was a little off. I read far less in August (only 4 books tools). Most of the books were re-reads, I only read 1 new book in the month.

The last month that didn’t match the normal pattern was September. September was split evenly between new books and re-reads, but all the new books I read that month were on the iPad instead of print.

Those 3 months just so happen to be part of our “busy season” at work. Given what I remember of the year and what I see on the spreadsheet, I’ve drawn some interesting conclusions about what happened.

The first conclusion is that when I’m stressed/unhappy I read more. Although August was a little lower that was partially because of people visiting and things like that, but both July and September were higher than the average. As the stress/unhappiness continues, I tend to fall back on re-reading. Looking through the specific books I chose to re-read, I realized I have some “comfort books” and that I turn to them to cheer myself up.

The second conclusion is that despite all my complaining about e-reading, when push comes to shove it works. Why did I have more iPad books in September? I had started the Mortal Instruments series, and I decided to download them on the iPad as other people in my family were going to read them too (we share an account). Plus when I finished one I wanted the next in the series instantly - none of that driving to the bookstore stuff when wincest is on the line! And despite the fact that I was reading on the iPad, which I always say doesn’t feel like a real book and I can’t do it easily at home, I managed to get through 4 books on there in one month.

All in all I think I did pretty good for a year of reading. I’ve started tracking my books for 2014 (2 finished so far), but I still need to think through if I want to make some edits to the spreadsheet. It might be interesting to start tracking the books I abandon and maybe later figure out if there is a pattern to that as well. Plus at some point I should look for a method of tracking non-traditional reading, like fanfiction and manga. I’m also excited to see if trends change year by year. Maybe I start to read less, or read more. Who knows! 

If My Characters Are Alcoholics that Don't Shut Up, What Does That Make Me?

NaNoWriMo is making me its bitch. Even here in fabulous Las Vegas I'm using mornings to try and write a few words each day. The toughest part for me is that there is so much I want to go back and change/fix, but I need to just keep moving forward. Le sigh.

Anyway, I decided to share a bit of the story so far with you, my faithful readers. Any feedback is appreciated! I suppose I could post the first chapter, but it's not my favorite. I've discovered that what I really like are the scenes with Matt (main male character) and he wasn't in chapter one. Instead, I'm sharing chapter 4, in which I start to suspect that my characters are alcoholics. To catch you up, Grace (main female character) has been somewhat stalking her friend Billy to see if she approves of the girl he's dating. She met Matt while spying on their date. She's worried her brother Leg is interested in the same girl. So much drama... Enjoy!

Chapter 4

            Matt knew he didn’t technically have to come to the games, but he thought it was one of the best ways to see a different side to the kids. The same boys that couldn’t walk down a hallway without causing a scene were now serious and focused. Instead of feeding off the attention they didn’t even notice the spectators. Matt also knew that it was a good way to establish himself as part of the community. Especially in these small towns. It hadn’t happened here yet, but at his last school several of the parents had called in panicked when they realized the new counselor wasn’t from the area. He didn’t think anyone at Aurora High would go that far, but there was definitely a townie mentality here.

            Of course thanks to that woman Grace he now knew one of the town secrets. Matt shook his head. Pumpkin risotto… he considered himself a bit of a foodie, but that was something new. He planned to go back and order it himself, and this time maybe he could eat in peace.

            That was another good thing about going to the games. It was a spectator sport, meaning the crowd was so focused on what was happening on the court it was as if they forgot they were in public and other people could still see them. It was the same with restaurants. Sure, many people normally kept their voices down, but they didn’t seem to realize how easy it was to overhear their conversations.

            Matt was particularly enjoying the blonde a few rows down. She had arrived as early as him which was interesting on its own, and instead of watching the game she seemed to be staring at the sidelines. Matt squinted, trying to figure out what she was looking at. It wasn’t really a good indication, but none of the boys looked related to her. Actually, she was most often looking in the direction of the coach.

            There was something familiar about him. Matt tried to remember if he was one of the teachers he met last week, and if so what was his name. Something about the girl seemed familiar too. Before Matt could figure out what about the two of them was niggling the back of his mind, he noticed another woman heading straight towards him. What was it with this town? Really something about her face felt familiar too, but he was absolutely sure he would remember those strawberry curls.

            She nodded towards the seat next to him, and to his surprise after sitting down leaned close to his ear. “What, no sex comments today? I’m shocked.”

            “Grace?” Matt stared incredulously. Sure enough it was those same gorgeous eyes, although if possible the face looked even more wholesome than before.

            “How many random women do you have coming up to you?” Grace scowled. “You’ve been here what, a few weeks, and you’re already the town player?”

            “Hey, remember that you are at my mercy now, so you better play nice.” Matt studied her some more. “I like this look. That getup you had last time didn’t do you justice. Don’t get me wrong though the cleavage alone was fantastic, but with that hair it was like you were channeling Elvira.”

            “Please don’t make me throw you down the bleachers,” Grace said. “It would be a horrible example to the kids. I was even nice enough to bring popcorn.” She handed over a bag. “It’s not the same, but I wanted to say thank you again for picking up the check the other night so I could run out.”

            Something clicked. Matt turned back towards the blonde so fast he felt his neck crick. “That’s your Billy’s chick over there, isn’t it. Are you really here stalking them again?”

            “I’m not stalking them.” Grace kept her eyes down as she rummaged through her gigantic purse. “I come to the games all the time. In fact, my brother Leg should be here soon. See, totally normal. Now move forward for a second, you need to block me.”

            Matt obligingly leaned towards her, watching in dismay as she pulled a bottle of wine from the purse depths and started pouring into plastic cups. “For a minute there I thought I heard your brother was an egg, but now I’m taking everything you say with a grain of salt. Do you normally offer strangers purse wine?”

            “All they have at the concession stand is soda. I hate soda. Do you realize how horrible that stuff is for you? Wine, meanwhile, is healthy in moderation, and since my friend Steph and I normally split it with Leg, I’d call that moderate.” Grace corked the bottle and stuffed it back in the purse.

            “As long as it’s healthy.” Matt took a sip. “This is my first drink so I know I’m not hearing things. Is your brother’s name really Leg? What was his wife’s name? Arm? Did they name their kiddo Phalange?”

             “What?” Grace frowned at him. “Oh, Leg’s my younger brother. He doesn’t have any kids, thank god.”

            “That’s probably for the best. I’m going out on a limb here to say he doesn’t sound together enough to have children.”

            “Har, har, aren’t you funny. Keep it up and I’m taking the wine back.”

            Matt shook his head. “Don’t even try, I deserve it for trying to understand your particular brand of inconsistency.”

            “What inconsistency?”

            “Let’s look at just one example. You yell at me for saying anything in public that might give you a bad reputation, but then you smuggle alcohol into a children’s event. Does that sound consistent to you?”

            Grace pursed her lips primly. “Well of course it’s consistent. The key thing here is that no one knows it’s wine.”

            Matt opened his mouth to explain all the reasons why that was a failure of logic when Grace hushed him. On the floor below a dark haired man was staring at them as Grace waved. Matt assumed this was the younger brother, given that he shared Grace’s wide eyes, evident even from their spot seven rows up. To his surprise, the man barely acknowledged them past a quick nod, moving instead to sit with the girl that had to be Billy’s blonde.

            He turned to Grace to figure out what was going on. She was watching them so intently that Matt felt uncomfortable on their behalf. “If you keep staring like that they’re going to feel it,” Matt said. “You could kill small animals with that look.”

            “I knew it,” Grace hissed. “There’s definitely something fishy here.”

            Matt exhaled. “Listen lady, you promised to answer any questions I asked and so far I still don’t even understand why you are so paranoid about this girl. What is going on exactly?”

            It amazed him how Grace could carry on a whole conversation without looking away from her brother and the blonde once. This woman would be terrifying as a mother; you wouldn’t be able to get away with anything without her knowing. Matt continued to sip his wine as he listened to Grace’s story about bars, brothers, and her suspicion that the only reason the girl was with Billy was because of Leg.

“It’s not that I don’t think Billy’s good enough for her,” Grace said for the fifth time, Matt had been counting, “but the fact is Billy doesn’t normally have girls leaving the bars with him. He just doesn’t come off well at first because he’s shy. I know Leg talked to her, I’m pretty sure Leg’s into her, and since he can be a charmer I think she saw dating Billy as an opportunity to continue to see Leg.”

Matt held out his wine cup for a refill. “Has anyone ever told you what happens when you assume?”

Grace had been reaching for her purse but stopped to scowl at him. “I give you wine, I brought you popcorn, and you’re still judging me?”

“You are not allowed to get mad. Granted, that was more of a rhetorical question but it still falls under the confines of our agreement. I’m not judging you at all. I’m worried though that you’re jumping to a lot of conclusions.” He shook his cup at her. “Now fill ‘er up.” He waited until Grace had started pouring to continue. “So if Leg is interested in this girl why would he help Billy pick her up?”

Grace had finally stopped watching the twosome a few rows in front of them, but instead she kept scanning the crowd, most likely to make sure no one saw the contraband bottle. “You act like you know everything, but you don’t know the bros before hos rule? Really?” Matt choked on a bite of popcorn. Grace patted him on the back briefly before continuing. “Leg is a people pleaser, and Billy rarely shows an interest in other girls.” 

            “I used to think small towns were boring,” Matt said. “I’m starting to think you’re better than reality TV.”

            Grace smiled at him. “Just wait until the half. We’re going down there and meeting the girl.”

            “We?” Matt asked hopefully. He had been trying to work out a plan to get Grace to agree this time to see him again, but so far his best idea was bribery with more wine.

            “Yes, we.” Grace cocked her head. “I think you might be able to get a much better read on the situation.”

            Matt stroked his chin, sparing a second to wish he could grow an actual beard instead of looking like a starving artist every time he forgot to shave. “We’ll probably have to meet sometime later then to debrief. We don’t want them to be suspicious.”

            “We’ll see. Try not to talk about sleeping with me every other minute. Leg won’t care, but if it gets back to my brother Grant you’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

            Matt studied the man ahead of them. “Is your other brother bigger or smaller?”

            “Bigger, and ripped,” Grace said.

            “Then I’ll be on my best behavior.” Matt stuck up his hand. “Scout’s honor.” He smiled innocently at her. “Now back to our question agreement.”

            Grace breathed in relief when the buzzer for half time sounded. She had never been particularly good at waiting, and while Matt’s continued and absurd questions had kept her occupied as she explained everything from how they had met Billy back when Grant was in second grade to why she didn’t like pudding, what really mattered at this game was sitting just a few rows below them. She watched Leg turn in his seat to look for her, and waved him up.

            “There’s no way we’re going down to them,” she explained to Matt. “They’re sitting way too close to Mrs. Callahan. She’s the godmother of my brother’s shrew of an ex-wife. She’s convinced we’re all heathens. Actually I think her words last time were ‘atheist whores.’ She’ll have a field day talking to you.”

            Matt looked wounded. Grace was irritated to discover he managed to even make that seem sexy. “I have been nothing but circumspect tonight, because unlike certain people I recognize there’s a time and place for these things, and maybe a bleacher stand full of high school students isn’t it.”

            “Is this another comment on the wine? We’ve been doing it since graduation. Trust me, it’s not a big deal.” Leg and the girl were still making their way up the stairs, hitting the wrong flow of traffic. Matt was looking exasperated, which gave Grace a surprising sense of victory. Before she could tease him about it she heard “Ms. Phillips” being called.

            Thank goodness she had hidden the wine again. The calls were from some of her students, who explained in a rush that one of the girls had scrapped up her knee and she didn’t want to ‘bleed all over’ her jeans.

Matt looked on in interest as Grace discretely searched her purse again while instructing the distraught girl. “Roll your pants up, Katrina, and hold still.” She swapped the cut with alcohol, then stuck on a Band-Aid. “You’re lucky I happened to have this stuff on me.”

Katrina grinned. “You’re always prepared Ms. Phillips, we knew you could help.” She unrolled her pant leg. “Bobby W talked to me for a whole hour the last time I wore these jeans, I didn’t want to have to throw them out.”

“Bobby W is a tool,” one of the other girls said. “Ms. Phillips, do you have any cough drops? My throat is really sore.”

“If you’re feeling sick you shouldn’t be at the game,” Grace warned as she handed over a cough drop. She could see Leg behind the girls rolling his eyes. “I don’t want to see you in the office tomorrow needing to leave school early.”

The group chorused their goodbyes, giggling as they climbed down the bleachers to leave room for Leg to maneuver his way over. Grace squeezed Matt’s arm to get his attention.

“Hey,” Leg called as he ushered the blonde to them. “It’s a school night Gracie, not day. Stop working. I want you to meet Devon. Devon, this is my sister, Grace, the most dedicated school nurse to ever live. And you are?” He raised an eyebrow at Matt.

            “Matt Tyler, the new counselor. I’m assuming you’re Leg?” Matt flashed a smile at Devon. “Nice to meet you both. Grace didn’t mention her brother was seeing someone.”

            Grace had to overcome the sudden urge to kiss Matt as she watched Leg flounder. She could never have gotten away with saying something like that since Leg knew she had been obsessively watching the situation.

            “Oh I’m actually here with Billy,” Devon spoke up. “Leg was being sweet and keeping me company. I’m still meeting people so I didn’t have anyone to sit with.”

            “Billy’s the team coach. We’re meeting up with him afterwards for dinner,” Leg jumped in. “You’re welcome to join us.”

            Grace frowned. “Steph said we were on probation this week.”

            “Steph was there Friday night, right?” Devon asked. She seemed to be trying to memorize everyone in the group. Grace suspected the addition of Matt had thrown her off.

            “Shortie with a death stare? Yep, that’s our Steph.” Leg blinked as everyone turned to stare at him. “Shortie as in she’s short. Geez people. Anyway I stopped at the diner yesterday and sorted it out, no worries.” Leg looked around. “Where is Steph tonight?”

            “I have no idea, I texted her that I was coming instead of Grant but she never responded.” Grace motioned at the seats. “Are you two going to stand there all night or do you want to sit down?”

            Devon hesitated. “We’re farther away up here.”

            Leg sat down at the end, long legs sprawled. “Yeah but we’re less noticeable. Do you have enough cups, Grace?”

            “You’re in for a treat, Devon, apparently we’re sitting with a group of alcoholics,” Matt said as Grace returned to the giant purse.

Grace carefully poured and handed over the cups. “And apparently you don’t want any more. Drink up guys, there’s a little bit left and Matt has given up his refill rights.” She heard him spluttering but ignored him. “So Devon, what do you do? I feel like I know nothing about you.” She felt Matt poking her side, but subtlety never seemed to work well for her.

“I’m a librarian,” Devon said. “Actually I really wanted to meet you, Grace. Billy mentioned you were in a book club?”

Grace felt herself turning beet red. She purposely stayed turned to Devon, hoping that for some miraculous reason Matt had stopped paying attention. “Um, that’s true, I just don’t know if it’s really something you’d be interested in.”

“I love all sorts of books! I don’t have any genre limitations.” Grace could clearly see Leg trying not to laugh over Devon’s head. 

“We really stick to the romance category, absolutely nothing scholarly. And none of us have any sort of background in literature. You’d probably be really bored with our discussion,” Grace said in desperation.

Devon reached and tentatively touched her hands. “Please, it would mean so much if I could join you. What are you reading next?”

Grace could feel Matt behind her, and she just knew he was listening in. The beast missed nothing. It was why she had asked him to help her decipher the situation with Leg, not so he could learn all her little secrets.

However, Devon was looking hopeful, and Grace resigned herself with a sigh and lowered her voice. “It’s called Ruthless Passion. It’s about a woman captured by pirates that falls in love with the captain.” She paused, Devon still looked interested and it would only be fair to tell her the whole truth. “Honestly, we only read the bodice-ripper novels, and then we compare the sex scenes. That’s all we discuss.”

To her relief Devon laughed with pleasure. “That’s amazing! What a great idea!”

Leg meanwhile was laughing his head off, and Grace could feel Matt stiffen besides her.

“Hold on, I’m calling time out.”

She turned to him slowly. “Can you call a time out? Is that allowed?”

“Don’t even, Miss I-Call-Pause. You keep critiquing me for what you call obscene comments, and you’re in a book club devoted to literary porn?” Matt asked, outraged.

“Shh, not so loud!”

Leg was laughing louder than ever. Matt continued to frown at her. “Let me guess, it’s okay because no one knows about it.”

“I read them on my kindle.” Grace explained. “It’s not like anyone can see the covers.”

             Leg broke in. “The thing about my sister, which it sounds like you’ve realized already, is that she’s very concerned with appearances. My brother Grant is the same way.”

            “Is it a town thing? What about you?” Matt asked.

            “I’m the black sheep. I do what I want. But otherwise, yeah, pretty much a town thing.”

            Devon interrupted. “Billy doesn’t seem like that.”

            Grace scowled at Matt. “That’s because you probably behave like a perfectly normal person, whereas Matt here should probably be muzzled in public.”

            “That’s it,” Matt said. “I’ve been good so far tonight and it doesn’t seem to matter, so now you’re really going to get it. You know what I think about your little book club habit? It’s a way for you to deal with sex on your own terms. I bet you freak out about fucking a real person because you spend the whole time wondering if they’re critiquing you.”

            Grace gasped. Devon was wisely staying silent, a point in her direction, but she could hear Leg laughing hysterically again. The only good thing was that Matt had lowered his voice, so combined with the noise of the resumed game she didn’t think anyone could hear their conversation. “As soon as we are out of here, I am strangling you with my purse.” She gritted out.

            Leg cut in. “I’m sorry Gracie, but I think I’m in love with this man. Matt, you’re joining us for dinner, right?”

            Matt met Grace’s death glare with a smile. “I’d love to.”

            Grace had known it all along; despite the angelic looks he had to be a devil. With effort she turned her back to him.  “So Devon, what kind of books do you normally read?” This game couldn’t end too soon.

Aliens, a Love Story

"If it comes to that... I'll do us both."
-Hicks

I've always suspected that my idea of romance and relationships is a little off. Today is only affirming that, because Aliens is on. I love Aliens, way more than Alien. I've been debating every time I'm at Target if I can buy Aliens without owning Alien or if that's against the rules of life. Why do I love Aliens so much?

Well mainly because of Hicks.

Hicks may be up there with my ideal man. He takes charge of a bad situation, he's great with Newt, and he makes snarky comments. All things I enjoy. When he gives Ripley his tracker watch thingy I almost swoon. His promise to kill both of them so they don't get alien embryos all up in their business is one of the most romantic things I've ever heard. Of course is you know anything about Aliens you know Hicks is not the real hero of the story, Ripley is, and that's awesome too.

So since my ideal romance story involves danger and snark and girls that are equally bad ass as guys, it's probably not a surprise that I don't really enjoy romance novels. I have read my fair share. I used to steal them from my grandma when I needed something to read. When I worked at a book store I'd page through them here and there. But I can't really get into them, UNLESS there's a humorous element.

Basically I need the books that are romcoms. I can't do straight gushy love so there better be some shenanigans and brouhaha to keep me interested. You'd think that would be pretty easy to find, but apparently I'm picky. I also want interesting female characters and dialogue that doesn't make me beat my head off the wall. And is it too much to ask that we don't always randomly impregnate people? I mean seriously, there's more to life than knocking up the female lead.

I find it intensely frustrating trying to find new books that meet my criteria. I read the description on the back and it sounds like it MUST be a funny story and then it's just not. It's atrocious. It makes me lose faith in humanity.

And then there's Jenny Crusie.

I love Jennifer Crusie stories with a passion. I first started off with her story Faking It, which has art theft, multiple personalities, orange-pinapple muffins, and fake orgasms. Slowly but surely I started accumulating more and more of her books, including the ones written with Bob Mayer which are my favorite, hands down. Her stories are amazing. Yes, there's romance. Yes, it gets sappy sometimes. But they are hysterical for one thing, and for another despite the absurdity that goes on (and trust me, it can get absurd) they feel more real.

This year I started to suspect I had a Jennifer Crusie problem, because prompted by my friend Erin I decided to start tracking the books I read. I reread Jennifer Crusie novels A LOT. I realized why last week, when I was rather depressed so I decided it was time to read one of the new ones I had been saving. Her books just make me feel better, plain and simple. And realizing that, I made a decision.

For NaNoWriMo this year I'm going to try and write a happy, funny, love story.

I've known about National Novel Writing Month for ages. If you're not familiar, it's basically where you write a 50,000 word story in the month of November. I've debated doing it several times, but I've always had an excuse to not do it (ex: several papers due that month, moving, or taking a lot of vacations). This year though my friend Erin is doing NaNoWriMo and she inspires me to try as well.

There are sooooooo many reasons why this may be the worst year to do it. I am traveling literally every week of the month. I have a vacation with my family. I have a wedding to attend. I have work functions. I have Thanksgiving with my brother. BUT, I'm going to try anyway. I think I'm going to be cutting out TV completely for the month, and that's okay.

I do better with goals. I do even better when people know my goals, and I don't want them to know I've failed. Take my jazzercise progress as proof (I hit my 150 classes before the end of October! WOOT!). I have not been writing as much as I should. I love writing, I have a ton of ideas, and I need to just MAKE MYSELF DO IT.

I actually came to the decision to participate a few weeks ago, but the idea of writing a happy story is new. This may sound weird, but except for my fanfiction, which is admittedly fluffy, all my writing tends to be dark. Not like Stephen King dark, but there's pretty much always some sort of either depressing or scary element. That's fine and dandy, but I really want to challenge myself this year. I want something that makes other people happy and gets them through tough times like Jennifer Crusie does for me.

Will I be successful? Oh lordy, who even knows. But the point is I am determined to try.