God help me, I just realized I have two characters in "If I Had a Million Dollars" sharing names with two of the more annoying characters on "7th Heaven."

Just so you know, Lucy and Simon are not named after white-bread, morality-as-anvil spouting tele-Christians of indeterminate faith. They're named after ferrets, which, given the alternative, is much more agreeable.

I can't believe I've been reading the TWOP recaps for a year and it took me until this afternoon to make the connection. God, I suck. But, since "IIHaMD" is never, ever, ever going to sell, we don't have to worry about it. Yay!

*~*~*~

If anyone, like Nok, was wondering, I've hit a wall with the new book. I managed to squeeze a stellar eight pages out today, far short of the required twenty and change. It's possible I could get another twelve out this evening, but the inclination's gone and I haven't anything to spare. It's not that I don't like Harriet or want to spend time with her. It's just, she's too passive, and I have no idea how to snap her into action. She just lets things happen to her, as the days swirl past her. She needs...something. But what? Not even a layoff's enough to course her into a firey ball of emotion.

I'll figure this out. I've already told myself I only have to finish this one and a mere 50 pages of the other before I ship them out. It might be enough.

God, I'm drowning in a sea of my own expectations here. Zat angsty enough for you guys?

I wrote seventy pages yesterday. There is something seriously wrong when it is simple (SIMPLE) for me to crank out seven pages in the span of a half-hour comedy.

I'm sure it's all crap. I've already started ripping sections apart to condense, as I'm coming up on the halfway mark, and I'm not even into the story. Gah. The story's not supposed to be a blow-by-blow account of Harriet's sentence in the classroom. The classroom is just the Comedy Gold factory, what with Pubert the Pooper and the rest of the chorus. The story's supposed to be about Harriet coming to terms with her small town upbringing and her friends' subsequent leaps into mundane adulthoods.

Or, it's an exorcist of my own Ruidoso-bred demons.

Or something. I can never make up my mind on these things. I'm sure Sha-Shana will tell me to consider a career writing toy asembly instructions instead.

Tomorrow is going to feature me, plopped down in front of the telly with my laptop, all a typin', while every male friend I have in this city goes tromping between the kitchen and the garage for Adam's supercharger install. Big day, big plans.

Progress! I've knocked it down to 119,000 words. If I'm totally awesome for the rest of the day and tomorrow, I could have it under 100k by the end of the weekend. That would be super awesome!

And now I've branded myself as being five years out of date.

19,000 words is an additional seventy-six pages, though. I can do it. I've pulled other miracles before. I can churn out seventy-six pages between now and Sunday. Hell, I bet I can make it an even 100.

I'm so panicked.

Today's been a good day, style-wise, despite my period showing up two days early. Hello! Broke out the emergency purple pants, paired them with a black cardigan I had lying around, the new funky green earrings and black strappy sandals. Emergency diverted.

The cardigan's a godsend. I've owned it for about a year, but never bothered to wear it more than a time or two. I always looked so shlumpy in it...unti I wore it alone, just buttoned over a bra. It's still kind of shlumpy, what with the purple pants, but viola! Sexy plunging V-neck with 3/4 sleeves. Just another flattering top for this chick.

Still, I'm in the process of weeding out my wardrobe and updating everything with flattering pieces. It seems that retail's doing their quarterly sale, so I'll be hitting the mall over the weekend (even though I should be writing, yes, yes) and trying to find more pieces. I want a pair of flat front, side-zip trousers. Probably won't get any, though, seeing how I'm broke.

Stymied again.

I have to write 150,000 words by Halloween.

As of this morning, I've produced 23,000. That's only 127,000 to go.

Eat your heart out, NaNoWriMo

We're back from the Land of the Interchangibly Attractive White People. That and the Land of the Humorless Traffic Cops.

We got pulled over just as we were coming into Denver. 77 in a 55 and a construction zone. Twenty over the limit is an automatic summons to court, so we'll be back in the Land of Interchangeable White People on December 9 for a 10 a.m. appearance the following morning. Grandma's thrilled we'll be back so close to Christmas. Adam's not so thrilled about throwing a zillion dollars at the problem to make it go away. I'm actually, um, looking forward to going back. I, erm, make her happy.

Well, it's better than making her cry.

The shopping excursion went well, since the account is what you're all breathlessly waiting for. I was disappointed to find out Nordstrom had ZILCH in the way of any clothing. Maybe I was doing it wrong by not asking for them to bring me things. Dillards, Foley's et. al. have me trained to just flip through racks until I find something, load up on the hangers and head into the dressing room. There was one red BCBG dress, but not THE BCBG dress. (If you're curious and near a BCBG store, please ask to see the "Rouge" dress.)

We left (after fondling the shoes) and went outside of the mall to a shopping "village" One of the little boutiques was having a remodling sale, so we went in and poked about. Eventually, Adam and the shopkeeper were ferrying article after article of clothing to me in the dressing room, both having a ball playing dress up with their own (slightly less dumpy now) doll.

I tried on skirts, dresses, blouses and a pair of jeans. I ended up walking out with a long black lycra skirt with a nice ruffled hem, and two (almost) identical blouses. V-neck. Rayon with wrinkles built right in (sort of a pseudo-ruched effect). Fluted sleeves with similar fluting at the hem. It works, amazingly. One is in burgundy and the other is orange with large olive green leaves floating across it. Again, it works.

At the register, I was tempted by a funky green necklace of clear glass and fake jade with little flower charms. Dangly earrings came with. I bought it. Adam pointed out this beautiful black shawl. I made him buy it for me. A good haul, overall, though not quite what I had in mind for the wedding.

Went back to Nordstroms and bought all of the Philosophy I've been craving. Passed on the shoes, so I'll have something to buy when we're in Dallas in three weeks. We had lunch and then tripped past downtown to the Tattered Cover. We put in a couple of hours there, decided we were too tired to go to Cherry Creek Mall (home of Niemans, Saks and the Betsey Johnson store). Went back up to Grandma's.

I picked up "What Not to Wear" at the Tattered Cover -- this one by the BBC chicks, not the American posers. Turns out, I had bought blind what would flatter my figure. How 'bout that? I'm basically the short, brunette version of Susannah. So, I should wear deep V-necks, fluted sleeves, wraps, and dangling earrings (for the illusion of a longer neck).

Even the coat, THE COAT, fits my figure. Oh, and Adam loved, loved, lurved the coat. But no, it did not come home with us...this time. I get the feeling she's planning on giving it to me for Christmas. So, we'll see.

Anyway. The ferrets have come home. It's time for a bit of fuzz time.

As for the dress question, I might hit the big Dillard's and see if I can find something...or at least pick up the super sexy plum pumps (also sexy ankle boots in the same color, but I'm saving them for an after Christmas present). They are known for carrying more than one dress in more than one size.

Ah, sarcasam. How I've missed thee.