I’m over at The Debs dishing on the realities of the publishing world. If you think the life of a writer is all feather boas and fun you should head over.

I also want to point you towards my good friend Jess Riley who has a book coming out in a mere two weeks. I want you to run, not walk to your local book store for this one. She’s running a book pimping contest over at her site and there is a chance to win fabulous prizes.

And for all of you keeping track- I’m working on my second pair of socks. This is addictive. Those of you near and dear to me may end up with socks under the Christmas tree. Just a warning.

Lastly don’t forget Mother’s Day is coming and nothing says you love your mum like giving her a good book. My mom deserves a whole library. In addition to putting up with me (and my dad), she’s a class act all the way. She makes me think of those glam 1940’s movie stars. Classy. Happy mom’s day.

I have the ability to worry about all kinds of things. I fret. I am the master of laying awake at night and working myself into knots about all kinds of things. I wonder what I would do if my car broke down in a remote location (despite the fact I live in the city and don’t drive to remote areas). I worry about how long we could survive in a post apocalyptic society (even though as was mentioned earlier, I would have warm feet). I stress over genetically modified foods and what will happen in the future thanks to global warming.

Then I saw this story. This woman was pinned for DAYS under the corpse of her husband. Apparently he came in after doing some yard work and collapsed pinning her to the floor. She remained there until the newspaper delivery boy wondered why they hadn’t brought in the paper for a few days. Can you imagine what would have happened if the paperboy hadn’t wondered what happened? Can you imagine slowly starving to death half buried under a corpse? (shudders) Then, because I write fiction and my mind is TWISTED, my second thought was: “what if she had to eat her way to freedom?” (double shudder)

Now when my devoted husband comes in from yard work I’m going to make him give me a wide berth. If he looks at all tippy or sick I’m going to run to the other side of the room. Just what I need - something else to worry about.

I’m feeling rather smug and proud of myself these days. I’ve learned how to knit a sock. Not just a sock - both socks -making a nice pair. Not impressed? Get yourself some yarn and try it. Not nearly as easy as it may look, unless you master the “heel turning” aspect which gives the sock it’s distinct sock shape- all you’re making is a foot-bag. No one wants baggy, shapeless foot-bags. They want socks.

Now, you could be like my devoted husband and point out that socks can be bought by the package in places such as Target or Costco, but clearly these are inferior socks as compared to mine. Then there is the fact that society could fall apart and while all of you might scurry around trying to survive in our post apocalyptic world, I’ll have nice toasty feet. You’ll wish you knew how to knit socks then.

This has been something I’ve wanted to learn for some time. I turned to my friend Melissa. Melissa can make anything. She paints, designs, cooks, you name it, she can do it. Check out her website- her work is lovely. She would be annoying except she’s so much fun and she always has wine at her place- thus I adore her. A few lessons later at her knee and VIOLA I’ve got socks.

What is your secret talent?

Work is a funny thing. Some people LOVE their jobs, others barely tolerate theirs. I like my day job, it has nice people, is mentally challenging and requires me to dress up once and awhile which is good. I could easily become one of those people who never gets out of their jammies if I worked from home. However, if for some reason work stopped paying me, I would stop showing up. My writing job is a different story. I did that for years without pay and if I ever calculated the amount of time spent writing and divided it by my earnings to date, it is quite possible that my hourly rate is similar to someone in a third world country. The difference is that I love it. I can’t imagine wanting to do anything else.

Now I’ve discovered another great job. This fellow hired someone to go to the pub with his elderly father. $14 an hour to wander down to the pub, hoist a few pints and chat. Now that is my kind of job. Alas, he’s already hired someone, but you never know when this kind of thing could come up again. I plan to keep an eye on the want ads.

What would be your dream job?

In other news… have you checked out Betty? BettyConfidential.com is a content and confidential networking community website focusing on women’s life stages and interests. BettyConfidential.com offers a place for women to raise their voices, be heard, and express themselves about real “day-to-day” issues in a “room full of women” atmosphere. BettyConfidential.com was co-founded by bestselling author and television commentator Deborah Perry Piscione and Internet entrepreneur Shaun Marsh in March 2008. CNN’s Soledad O’Brien serves as Chairman of the Advisory Board. If your interested you can register here. And be sure to tell the Manic Mom told you to come by!

It is always nice to see our politicians focusing on the issues that matter. Yes, in this day of economic woes, war, global warming, food shortages, terrorism, and general mayhem- it takes a brave politician to tackle the difficult issue. Truck Balls.

Yes this blog (cutting edge news source) brought you the issue of people outfitting their truck with testicle accessories. Forgotten all about it? You can read about them hereNow the government is getting involved. It’s always nice to know that my tiny blog is able to shape national policy by bringing ugly underbelly issues to light.

Florida Fights to Ban Truck Testicles Apparently, Republican Senator Cary Baker has declared these truck accessories “offensive” and moved to have them banned in the state. I thought Republicans were supposed to be for the government staying out of our lives? Who is Senator Cary to determine how the fine people of Florida adorn their pick ups? I’ll admit I find the truck balls to look nasty, and in my opinion imply some level of perceived inadequacy, but ban them?

If we’re going to start banning things that are offensive may I put forward that the following should also be banned:

- men wearing Speedos
- men who have excessive man boobs going topless with smears of suntan lotion caught in their chest hair.
- people who wear so much cologne and or perfume that actual smell waves can be seen coming off them ala Pepe Le Peu.
- bumper stickers that have piggish statements like “official boob inspector” on them
- the fact that the TV show Survivor is still on
- that little white spit blob some people have in the corner of their mouth that I am certain could fly off at any moment and hit me
- Men who scratch their neither regions in public- yoo-hoo- we can see you. There is a reason we call them privates
- Dr. Phil
- People who drive giant SUV’s the size of a small apartment and then gripe about the cost of gas

I could go on for days. What offensive thing would you ban?

Sometimes in my search to bring the odd to you, my faithful readers, I come across something that just makes me happy.

Here is just such a story.

Pierre the Penguin was suffering from a molting issue that left his behind pink and naked. Apart from the awkward issue of being on display in a zoo with his behind showing it also restricted his ability to swim. “Unlike marine mammals, which have a layer of blubber to keep them warm, penguins rely on their waterproof feathers. Without them, Pierre was unwilling to plunge into the academy’s penguin tank and ended up shivering on the sidelines while his 19 peers played in the water.”

Poor Pierre- cold, naked and alone on the sidelines.

Then modern science comes up with a miracle. They make him a wetsuit. “Schaller conducted fittings to design the suit, which fastens with Velcro at the back, covers Pierre’s torso and has small openings for his flippers.

One concern was that the other penguins would reject Pierre in his new duds, but in fact, they accepted his sleek new look.”

Since being fitted with his new suit, Pierre has resumed swimming and is even seeing some of his hind feathers coming back. Ah the miracle of a good swimsuit. Now all I need is a swimsuit designer to follow me around, watching my particular waddle and cut and recut the perfect suit so I too can reach streamlined status.

Admit it- the story makes you happy too….

Today I am in two places at one time. It’s like magic!

I’m over at The Debutante Ball talking about first drafts, first lines and the importance of composting. Trust me- this does make sense.

I’m also very pleased to have been asked to guest post over at All American Girls Road Trip If this blog isn’t on your stop by list you should check it out.

I wasn’t much of a party girl/drinker growing up. This was due to a number of factors:

1. I didn’t like the taste of beer and cheap booze, thus I wasn’t tempted to drink much;
2. I wasn’t cool enough to get invited to many parties that involved booze; and
3. I was fairly certain if I was caught drinking that my dad would punish me in some vile and unspeakable way that would scar me for life.

As a result I don’t have delightful memories of wild youthful drinking binges that end with me hurling in a gutter, although some of my college years are a bit murky. There was a time in my early thirties when I had too much at a champagne tasting and was caught singing “tiny bubbles” while the speaker tried to give a serious lecture on the composition of the soil where the grapes are grown, but I don’t think that counts.

If you’ve ever wondered if you had too much this would be a sign. After a long night out with his buddies, this guy woke up in a dumpster moments before he was crushed to death by the garbage truck. I’m thinking if you can sleep in a dumpster full of trash you need to lay off the hootch.

If you can’t control yourself- here’s a far better use of your impulsivity: I am very excited that Allison Winn Scotch’s book- The Department of the Lost and Found- is now out in paperback. So if you were pinching pennies and weren’t able to pick up a copy when it was in hardcover, be sure to check it out here.

File this under things that just have to make you sad. What if you were reduced to taking your clothes off for money, but then discovered that no one wanted to pay to see your naked self?

A group of mothers, in an effort to raise money for their rural school, had a nudie calendar made up. You a can read the full story here. This has become all the rage since a group of older English matrons did this for their local charity. They even made a movie about it- Calendar Girls. (well worth a rent) So this group of mums figure it’s a great idea and strip down and pose with an odd assortment of things- but then couldn’t sell the calendars. They owe the printer more than they’ve earned.

The calendars were going for 8 bucks. It’s a sad day when no one will pay 8 bucks to see you (and eleven of your friends) in a compromising photo. Personally, I think it’s best to not even risk the rejection. The last thing I need is more rejection and a few cases of outdated calendars in the garage.

The universe is full of mystery. Take for example my dog.

Our white dog has a delicate tummy, which is a polite way of saying she hurls a lot. She goes off on a regular basis. She’s like the old faithful of dog vomit. It doesn’t seem to bother her much, she’ll be doing her own dog thing and then suddenly there is a “hork- hork” sound and then she goes off.

There is a small window of time where if you hear the hork sound and vault out of your chair you can get her outside before she blows. I should point out that our house is 99% hard wood or tile flooring and yet without fail- as if divinely inspired- she will rush from her current location to the carpet to do the deed. It’s like the carpet calls to her. It’s a mystery.

What mystery keeps you up at night?