Not Quite the Weekend

It’s Friday. In fact, it’s such a Friday that I have misspelled every attempt to type “Friday” thus far. Even that one. I feel like a monkey with boots on its hands, though my brain feels a bit less civilized.

It was one of those weeks where you start to rethink your plans of having more children. My son ended up covered in red nail polish when my four-year-old decided to turn him into Iron Man.

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He’s no longer red, though he is sporting some pink streaks in his hair.

I also just misspelled “hair” and had to fix it. *sigh*

There was also glitter spilled everywhere, a leaking tub (that decided to dribble through the ceiling and into the living room below), a broken vacuum (which is now fixed, but I’m out of vacuum bags), and baby lotion squirted all over clean sheets.

Which is why this is today’s breakfast:

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On top of this, my father is in the hospital, my mother is struggling to latch onto a vehicle that actually runs and will take her to Johns Hopkins and back without dying on her, and other stuff. So much other stuff.

I’m also still plugging away with writing. I’m on a two-week break from teaching dance, which is giving me a chance to at least plan out what I want to accomplish over the summer. I have an author newsletter to bring into being (“Give my creation… LIFE!”), bloggers to email for reviews of The Half Killed, another manuscript to edit and finalize the cover for, a book launch party (I just wrote “lunch” there, which should tell you where my brain currently is) on Facebook to organize, and possibly a shower or a nap in there somewhere. Maybe.

And yes! The Half Killed is now available for pre-order!

And yes! You can now find it on Goodreads!

And yes! You can still read the first three chapters here!

Now, tomorrow I have to take my oldest to sign up for the summer reading program at the library, and my four-year-old wants to see Jurassic World. Which will be nothing without Dr. Ian Malcolm. But still we trudge forward.

That’s “forward”, Quenby. Not “froward”.

Dangit.

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