Waiting

February seems to be the month of waiting for me this year. I'm waiting for the 10th to come around, because when I finish my shift at 6pm that day, I won't have to go back to work until the 28th (woohoo, and there was much rejoicing!). I'm waiting for the 23rd to arrive so that I can either stop biting my nails because I will have failed to get to the second stage of ABNA, or move onto nibbling my hair (due to lack of nail-ness) if I have magically got to the second stage after all.

OK, those are probably the only biggie things that I am waiting on to be truthful, but every day it seems I am waiting for something. Waiting for my son to get home from school (because he can't be trusted to have a key) so that I can pop out somewhere; waiting for my daughter to finish faffing around in the morning so that I can send her to school; waiting for the kettle to boil so that I can make a much needed cuppa...

This morning I left the house a little earlier than I needed to because I got the bus timetables muddled up (for some reason I thought it was Saturday... must be the pre-dawn waking up that confused me methinks), so I was waiting for the bus to arrive far longer than normal. Hence the piccy for today's Phebruary Photo. The largish shadow is moi - huddled in three layers of clothing (not counting the thickly padded coat) no less. It's been in the minus range temperature-wise for the last week or so here in Cardiff, and waiting for the bus seems to take forever...

I have no patience. Waiting sucks.

Deceiving Sun

It looked like such a nice day when I peeked through the window this morning; the sky was blue and the sun was shining. But the sun was being tricksy again, promising warmth when it had no right to do so. You see, it's blinking FREEZING here in The Diff. Brrrr! I took this piccy earlier this afternoon as I was waiting for a bus (which never turned up, bloody thing *mutters*), and it occurred to me at the time that the sun was a bit of a sneakster. *nods* Hence, 'Deceiving Sun.'

Paws on Pause

About the only time Angel isn't being a devil is when she sleeps...

My little kitty has been suffering with a third eylid problem for the a while. A few weeks back I noticed that the inner eyelid on both of her eyes was covering half of her eye. It was a sudden thing - wasn't there one day, the next it was - and first I thought it was just a cold or something. After a couple of days it still hadn't cleared up, so I checked it out and discovered it was most likely that she had worms. Eww.

Anyway, I dutifully wormed her (and my other kitty too), and while this appears to have slowed down her eating habits, her inner eyelids are still visible.  She is fine in herself, perfectly healthy in fact. Turns out she has 'Haws Syndrome', which generally affects kitties under the age of two, and is not something to worry about. It will clear itself in six to eight weeks apparently.

And that's my ramble to go with the first of my 'Phebruary Photos' posts. :)

Rant Against A Romance Basher

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I woke up this morning feeling a few things; glad that I had a day off, looking forward to having a day of Nothing-To-Do-For-A-Change, and general thankfulness that I could go back to sleep if I should want to. I made a cuppa and saw my kids off to school for the day, and then made another cuppa to go with my morning scrawl through my Facebook newsfeed (oh what an exciting life I lead, huh?).

Then I came across a link that one of my Facebook friends shared, and started cussing. The link was to a blog post, and the more I read, the more I cussed. Then I got to reading the replies, and cussing doesn't even begin to describe what was going on inside my head.

I guess I should share the link here, though it goes against the grain to give this guy any more readership. I just don't think I can repeat what he said without cussing all over the place. There's nothing wrong with cussing - in fact, regular readers of this blog know that I enjoy cussing in my Taffish fashion quite often - but I don't really want half of the post to be excessive profanity.

Anyway, before I go further, you should probably READ THIS. I promise it won't take more than two minutes tops. Great, now that I've added the link, I can remove it from my bookmarks. *shudders*

Now, I don't want to get too personal, because that might mean that I end up insulting this nitwit. I don't even want to argue any of his useless and pathetic points. Honestly, I don't have a problem with the base of his post. The guy doesn't like the romance genre, and that's fair enough. It's just the way he did it. He insulted hundreds of readers and writers of romance in a few short paragraphs.

I might not have been so wound up about this if I had just read his post (insulting enough though that was, it was his opinion, and everyone is entitled to an opinion), but then I had the misfortune to read the comments, and Oh My Lordy. I take back my nitwit comment. That is far too kind a descriptions for this guy, and an insult to nitwits in general. Most nitwits have redeeming qualities. I - for example - am a complete nitwit, but I know how to laugh at myself and take no insult when somebody calls me one. I'd hazard a guess that if this guy ever read this post, he would sneer in a superior manner and post a stream of what he assumes to be blistering set-downs (though that would be pointless, because I would just laugh).

Anywho, I digress...

According to this guy, because I read romance, I am a woman still stuck in her teenage years who has no right to be bothering with romance when I am grown up and should know better. Now, I'm not directly quoting here, but that's the gist. Also, even if I manage to get published, it won't matter because romance will never be considered 'good writing'; when compared to other genres, so being published won't mean that my work is considered 'good'. Blimey, if I'd have known that, I wouldn't have wasted my time writing the darn thing. Thanks for the tip.

Furthermore, if a book is termed romance, then it is, apparently by default, 'bad' or 'tacky'. Because apparently, it would be called a classic love story otherwise. Apparently.

Um, right. Apparently this guys a complete tit, though I don't mean anything personal by it, because that would mean I was insulting the person, and not the post. So far I have called this guy a nitwit, but then I took it back. Anything else I said was only implied, therefore not really an insult. And by using the word 'apparantly',  the 'complete tit' reference was only a suggestion, not really an insult at all. Actually, this guy might like being called a 'tit', now that I think about it (implied or otherwise). His level of maturity hasn't quite passed that Thirteen-And-Can't-Help-Giggling-Whenever-I-See-Naked-Boobs phase. And frankly, he should have passed that by now as he is grown up and should know better.

*DING!!*

Ooh, was that a hit?

Wow, I've lost my train of thought now and have forgotten what I wanted to say. Must be because I am a woman, and therefore illiterate, and obviously not well-adjusted.

I think I'd better stop now, or I'll end up bitching about this all day. One last thing though, this blogger (was so tempted to use another word there) describes himself as 'I'm a sexy, single, white male with a really big, uh, wallet. (It's where I keep all my I.O.U.s). I also write a bit.'.

Dude, take a tip from me. Any woman reading your post today will never consider you sexy. And your implied reference of having a big 'wallet' really only tells us that you are over-compensating your lack of wallet-ness (not to mention your lack of tact, wit, and probably brains too). As to writing 'a bit', I sincerely hope it stays that way. Because if I ever have to read 'a lot' of your verbal vomit, I would probably choke.

*is somewhere else*

I haven't been around much (again), but I haven't been comepletely procrastinating. Well, maybe just a little bit, but not overly so. I blogged over at my writer's group just over a week ago, for example. And in between getting sucked into everything from family life, to bingo on Facebook, I managed to set aside yesterday afternoon to go through my manuscript in order to submit it today for this year's ABNA.

Yes, perhaps yesterday was cutting it a bit fine, but this is me, and I always leave things until the last minute. *shifty*

Anyway, I don't have a blog post for you today. Well, not here at any rate. But I blogged over at Cardiffella, so I'm popping by with a link to today's post if anyone fancies reading a ramble.

And now I'm off 'somewhere else' again... so toodle-loo!

Princess Poll

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A quick one today! I've been trying to think of what I'll use officially as my 'author' name, and you know what? It's not as easy as it seems. Sure, I could go for sticking with my real name, but would that be authorish enough? One of my writer friends mixed up her maiden and married names and it came out perfect, sounding just right for her author name, but mine doesn't work out quite so well.

I have a few options - my real name is Tara Marie Smith, while my maiden name was Jeffery. My mother's maiden name - Hughes- is quite authorish sounding, too. And I like the idea of using 'Amber' in there, in memory of my daughter.

There are several ways to make up a name; I could use the full names, or just the initials. And I could take my pick from the surnames. I just can't quite decide on anything. Nothing is hitting me as 'perfect'.

I was mostly decided on 'Tara M Smith', but then a friend came up with 'Amber T Smith', which threw a spanner in the works as it made me think 'ooh!'.

I've asked a poll question on my facebook page using the above two options, but any and all opinions would be most welcome!

So, what say you? If my chick-litty story ever ends up in book form, who will have written it?

Well, Hello Stranger!

Seeing as it's been almost three months since I last blogged, I think we can safely assume that I'm still a Procrastination Princess. And seeing as how I stopped blogging right in the middle of a self-imposed challenge, we can also safely assume that I am a Very Naughty Girl too.

Bluddy 'ell though, some of those challenge suggestions were hard! It got so that every time I came by to try a new post, my brain would freeze for a few moments and then break out in a sweat. A glazed look would appear in my eyes, and I would end up closing the tab and putting it off until 'tomorrow'. A new year has begun since then, and still those challenges have stumped me, so I figure it's best to ramble about something else. That's not to say that I will never complete the challenge, I'd just rather attempt them when not feeling under undue pressure.

On that slightly disappointing note (for me, if not for you), here I am with the first of 2012's blog posts. Nothing very exciting so far, I know, but we have to start somewhere.

I could waffle on a bit about the dire 2012-End-Of-The-World thingy, but that would be predictable (not to mention depressing). I could talk about the fact that I'm whipping my procrastinating butt into gear by entering this year's ABNA, but I know lots of other blogs are full of this competition already, so that would also be predictable.

So how about I wax lyrical (or at least briefly) about the delights of eggnog instead? It's past the festive season, but who cares? Eggnog, a recent discovery, is, in the words of a Taffy, bluddy lush like, innit? Eggs, sugar, cream, cinnamon, and most important of all, rum.

Now, I'm not usually a rum drinker (sorry Mr. Sparrow), but I have to admit that rum, when it is included with eggnoggy stuff, is lurvely. So nice, in fact, that I have decided that it shall not be forgotten about until next Christmas. Eggnog should be a year-round drink as far as I'm concerned. It may even replace - shock, horror, gasp!- vodka as my preferred alcohol of choice. *nogs* Er, I mean *nods*.

Image is mine, my precious, my own!

So yeah, that's what my first post of 2012 celebrates. Eggnog. May the year be filled will many sugar-enhanced rum and cinnamon goodness.

Happy It's-Not-The-End-Of-The-World-2012 everyone!