The other day my daughter wrested a cake from my hoarding hands and threw it out. The cake had been given to me by her old flatmate who was a (insert fancy name for fancy pastry chef here) and taught said subject at a career college. It was a fruit cake - traditionally made, complete with brandy soak, marzipan and icing, rosebuds - you know... the kind of thing that somebody plonks a bride and groom doll on top and the wedding planner charges 4,000% of basic cost on top of.
Over the course of a year it lived in my microwave so the ants wouldn't attack it. I picked off a lot of the roses and decorations, and it was a nuisance to have to unload it out of the microwave before I could cook anything but...
I hoard therefore I am.
Yes I hoard. Mea Culpa - a sin for the confessional in which I am sure the priest would give me four Hail Mary's and one Our Father for breaching the 11th commandment:
Thou shalt not hoard.
I have no problem generally with the ten commandments, but you see, the trouble is that Thou shalt not hoard is rarely mentioned.
But ironically this comandment inadvertently made me commit the first one. The biggie. Thou shalt not kill. You see the darn cake was discovered by an ant scout. The word went out and the ant brigade invaded my house and my microwave.
It was like some awful scene out of a horror swarm movie, drunken ants soaked in the juices of a dousing of brandy the microwave looked like it was about to be hijacked.
Wall to wall ants didn't last too long under the onslaught of my can of ant spray. My kitchen tidy became a mass grave for dead ants.
My daughter is on constant alert. She's tossed out any cans dated before 1709 in my pantry. Gone through my freezer and thrown out the Barramundi dated 1968. And I'm too scared to leave the fort in case she comes and tries to throw out my pile of RWA newsletters in the still to be read pile.
I have a theory about hoarders. My mother wasn't. My father used to say, coming to my sister and my own house felt like coming home, because they were always full of my mother's unwanted junk. We are both full-blown hoarders. So my daughter grew up in a clutter environment and isn't a hoarder. If it hasn't been used for six months out it goes. Shauna's kids are the same.
Are you a hoarder? Is my theory sound? I have a friend whose house is so uncluttered you long to see whether it's all in the cupboards and would kill you if you open a door. But then,
Us hoarders are a breed apart.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Gotta get on with it...
Back. Book is launched. The second one is sitting with the editor.
If you're out there and are willing I'd love your vote for anthology in the Editors and Preditors poll. We are currently hovering between #2 and #3. Your vote will count. See my link to the Romance Spinners and you will find a link to the vote. Visit us at our site because you might like a free cookbook and to read about Richard Armitage's new-look in Robin Hood. Why? Because one of our team, Heidi, is a solid fan.
It's 2009. I don't know whether I'm totally comfortable with it. I've lost heaps of weight and it feels better. I've also lost a husband/partner/best friend after 35 very good years. I don't smoke so I don't have to give that up. I've discovered just how important family is and how wonderful mine are.
And while I'm on line here, let me just tell you a little about our new anthology.
It's called For Rich or for Poor. And involves an ancient Norse curse. The anthology is quite exciting in it's concept and you will love the journey it takes you through generations of the family supposedly suffering the dictates of avoiding the curse. The richest must marry the poorest or risk the consequences.
PLEASE VOTE. PRETTY PLEASE.
If you're out there and are willing I'd love your vote for anthology in the Editors and Preditors poll. We are currently hovering between #2 and #3. Your vote will count. See my link to the Romance Spinners and you will find a link to the vote. Visit us at our site because you might like a free cookbook and to read about Richard Armitage's new-look in Robin Hood. Why? Because one of our team, Heidi, is a solid fan.
It's 2009. I don't know whether I'm totally comfortable with it. I've lost heaps of weight and it feels better. I've also lost a husband/partner/best friend after 35 very good years. I don't smoke so I don't have to give that up. I've discovered just how important family is and how wonderful mine are.
And while I'm on line here, let me just tell you a little about our new anthology.
It's called For Rich or for Poor. And involves an ancient Norse curse. The anthology is quite exciting in it's concept and you will love the journey it takes you through generations of the family supposedly suffering the dictates of avoiding the curse. The richest must marry the poorest or risk the consequences.
PLEASE VOTE. PRETTY PLEASE.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
How does this sound for a plot?
The wife has been looking around town with her husband for a new house for investment. They search high and low and keep looking until he finds exactly what it is that he's been looking for. It was not bad. Not bad at all.
She asks about the settlement on it, but he's very vague on details. But he's a busy man. Very very busy.
And suddenly he announces to her that he's decided he and the wife will have an 'amicable separation'. Oh? says she. Amicable? Look up dictionary. This doesn't describe the situation at all. So what can be used instead? And he swears on a stack of bibles that under no circumstances is there another woman.
Wife is only one to believe him because she always has. Everyone else is exchanging glances. He starts decorating house with a joyful pride which is almost indecent. Is the wife that awful to live with? After all there hadn't been any complaints up until that moment that could be discussed. Nor indeed ever discussed on any meaningful level. Just a wham bam, he's gone ma'am.
Well, at least give the wife a key since she owns half of the darned thing. Key willingly given. A couple of weeks later the house is entered by some nefarious burglar, but strangely the burglar hasn't taken anything. Ooooh. Very spooky. Is this going to be a suspense novel? But the locks have to be changed since there were no signs of a breakin.
So confounding as this is, the husband is assumed to be going through some sort of midlife crisis. Then through a calamitous set of circumstances the wife finds out quite accidentally that there is a mistress. And that a woman had moved in to live in the new love nest. The very same little nest he and his wife had been looking for investment purposes.
Caught! So the plan had been all along to live in it with the mistress and still to look like the good guy. But he got caught with the proverbials. (oh how this plot is thickening along nicely)
So the wife gets very angry and shoots off emails then collapses in total grief. This is, after all, worse than being a widow, no dead body to mourn. No self esteem since she's so ghastly to live with.
So in self defence he shoots back an email which is so nasty it upsets his hitherto very closely knit family. And he's like John Wayne shootin' from the hip. Bang Bang Bang. Ah'm gonna keep ma little woman. She's my trophy. She's closer to his eldest son in age than she is to him. In fact had fate been different it could have been her that could get to keep the son as a prize rather than the father. He tells us how we all going to get to know each other and play ball in the park and that things are going to be just fine and dandy. We might even have a Penney family day picnic. Spend Xmases together under the Xmas tree unwrapping pressies, hugging each other with so much love and understanding.
This plot is bubbling along nicely. Lots of little nuances here and there to play with.
But his children are very upset and write back what they really feel. And tell him that they no more believe he'd only just met the woman, than fly.
But clues start to build, like little pieces of jigsaw puzzle. Turns out he's been having an affair with an employee while he's been off in foreign parts, and that it has been such a cozy arrangement. She's been on a posting overseas but you see, she's due back and he has to find a little love nest for the love birds.
And now they live and work together every day. Off goes a little alarm bell in the morning and out of bed they hop. Kellog Cornflakes and coffee then skip off to work. Then at the end of the day it's dinner and bedtime.
And they live happily ever after.
I do so love a romance. I wonder if I can turn this into a comedy?
She asks about the settlement on it, but he's very vague on details. But he's a busy man. Very very busy.
And suddenly he announces to her that he's decided he and the wife will have an 'amicable separation'. Oh? says she. Amicable? Look up dictionary. This doesn't describe the situation at all. So what can be used instead? And he swears on a stack of bibles that under no circumstances is there another woman.
Wife is only one to believe him because she always has. Everyone else is exchanging glances. He starts decorating house with a joyful pride which is almost indecent. Is the wife that awful to live with? After all there hadn't been any complaints up until that moment that could be discussed. Nor indeed ever discussed on any meaningful level. Just a wham bam, he's gone ma'am.
Well, at least give the wife a key since she owns half of the darned thing. Key willingly given. A couple of weeks later the house is entered by some nefarious burglar, but strangely the burglar hasn't taken anything. Ooooh. Very spooky. Is this going to be a suspense novel? But the locks have to be changed since there were no signs of a breakin.
So confounding as this is, the husband is assumed to be going through some sort of midlife crisis. Then through a calamitous set of circumstances the wife finds out quite accidentally that there is a mistress. And that a woman had moved in to live in the new love nest. The very same little nest he and his wife had been looking for investment purposes.
Caught! So the plan had been all along to live in it with the mistress and still to look like the good guy. But he got caught with the proverbials. (oh how this plot is thickening along nicely)
So the wife gets very angry and shoots off emails then collapses in total grief. This is, after all, worse than being a widow, no dead body to mourn. No self esteem since she's so ghastly to live with.
So in self defence he shoots back an email which is so nasty it upsets his hitherto very closely knit family. And he's like John Wayne shootin' from the hip. Bang Bang Bang. Ah'm gonna keep ma little woman. She's my trophy. She's closer to his eldest son in age than she is to him. In fact had fate been different it could have been her that could get to keep the son as a prize rather than the father. He tells us how we all going to get to know each other and play ball in the park and that things are going to be just fine and dandy. We might even have a Penney family day picnic. Spend Xmases together under the Xmas tree unwrapping pressies, hugging each other with so much love and understanding.
This plot is bubbling along nicely. Lots of little nuances here and there to play with.
But his children are very upset and write back what they really feel. And tell him that they no more believe he'd only just met the woman, than fly.
But clues start to build, like little pieces of jigsaw puzzle. Turns out he's been having an affair with an employee while he's been off in foreign parts, and that it has been such a cozy arrangement. She's been on a posting overseas but you see, she's due back and he has to find a little love nest for the love birds.
And now they live and work together every day. Off goes a little alarm bell in the morning and out of bed they hop. Kellog Cornflakes and coffee then skip off to work. Then at the end of the day it's dinner and bedtime.
And they live happily ever after.
I do so love a romance. I wonder if I can turn this into a comedy?
Monday, October 27, 2008
My best friend - A sorry tail...
Yes. I have a sorry tail to tell. I waved goodbye to it not too long ago and I ache. The tail belongs to my ex best friend.
The one with the tag in the front of the book that claims him as my rock. The one to whom I dedicated my first anthology story.
The tail end of a marriage full of love 35 years of total love and dedication.
But I have two new best friends.
My darling children. I've discovered what a beautiful bunch of people my ex-best friend made.
They are bewildered and as skittled as am I. We were such a tight little family and now we've been skittled by a huge bowling ball.
It hurts like hell, it sure does. Hurts so much that I think I have writer's block for the first time in my life. I can't do it at the moment, partly because I am basically a writer of comedy. And I can't really find anything funny in life at the moment.
How long will this take to get over? I don't know. My dreams are horrendous. Loss of self esteem is so big I never knew it could get to be this big. Are the days long? Yes. Am I forever beginning to jigsaw things into one piece? Dunno, but little bits of evidence of the lead up are beginning to fall into place, and I can sort of work out about what time the ex-best friend was buying the bowling ball.
Do I hate the woman who took him? Yes I wish she'd fall off a mountain or get crushed by an avalanche, or that if she is on a boat it will sink, but it's not really her that I know I should be angry with.
Have my children got huge issues to deal with? A huge yes...on what is a relationship, since their whole belief system has been crushed. OH YES! To them we were almost an institution. Like a building that could never fall.
At the moment if you asked me what I feel like - I'd cryptically tell you like Pompeii.
If you understand that then you are on the same wavelength as me and you understand.
The one with the tag in the front of the book that claims him as my rock. The one to whom I dedicated my first anthology story.
The tail end of a marriage full of love 35 years of total love and dedication.
But I have two new best friends.
My darling children. I've discovered what a beautiful bunch of people my ex-best friend made.
They are bewildered and as skittled as am I. We were such a tight little family and now we've been skittled by a huge bowling ball.
It hurts like hell, it sure does. Hurts so much that I think I have writer's block for the first time in my life. I can't do it at the moment, partly because I am basically a writer of comedy. And I can't really find anything funny in life at the moment.
How long will this take to get over? I don't know. My dreams are horrendous. Loss of self esteem is so big I never knew it could get to be this big. Are the days long? Yes. Am I forever beginning to jigsaw things into one piece? Dunno, but little bits of evidence of the lead up are beginning to fall into place, and I can sort of work out about what time the ex-best friend was buying the bowling ball.
Do I hate the woman who took him? Yes I wish she'd fall off a mountain or get crushed by an avalanche, or that if she is on a boat it will sink, but it's not really her that I know I should be angry with.
Have my children got huge issues to deal with? A huge yes...on what is a relationship, since their whole belief system has been crushed. OH YES! To them we were almost an institution. Like a building that could never fall.
At the moment if you asked me what I feel like - I'd cryptically tell you like Pompeii.
If you understand that then you are on the same wavelength as me and you understand.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
To all you gorgeous gazillions of fans out there in the world, those of you lurking faithfully for a word of wisdom from your guru Zara Penney, the site is a growing darling. Yes.
A whole Zara Penney dot com. Just for me.
It's growing right under my nose and I'm loving it. It's my very own darling. It's like a little launch to which I can invite all my friends. From there one can blog me or tease me. One can keep me company when I edit.
I haven't had this much fun since... since...
The release date of our anthology.
November 21. Don't forget it.
A whole Zara Penney dot com. Just for me.
It's growing right under my nose and I'm loving it. It's my very own darling. It's like a little launch to which I can invite all my friends. From there one can blog me or tease me. One can keep me company when I edit.
I haven't had this much fun since... since...
The release date of our anthology.
November 21. Don't forget it.
Monday, May 12, 2008
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Edit is over.
Well darlings! All of you people who don't read my blog. The edit is done. I know I have one more in me but I'm leaving some space between that event and myself for the time being.
I guess I am waiting now until the others have finished and we present it to the publisher ready for the galleys.
I feel in a strange mood. My little doggette Baby, has gone to the vet for desexing. I just cannot bear the thought of a little of little darlings, birthing, mess and problems associated with a litter. And I will never forget the experience of having a female rottweiler on heat and a silkie terrier in love with his large black diva.
The house was boarded up like the scene in Les Miserables during the siege of Paris, and darling Chester could not be dissuaged. We bought him a little pair of pants but they didn't work, so we bought a pack of baby disposable nappies and found them abandoned constantly. That was a nightmare episode. So unhappy me is sitting here lady in waiting for the news that Baby is ready to come home.
Now that the new anthology has been finished and landing in at almost 20,000 k's, I go on to edit my WIP which is 60,000 k's.
My critique group also has a Challengemeister with a mission... set us challenges to keep our collective muses (musai?) bustling along. Zee is currently a lady of leisure luxuriating in summer break from her daily slog as professor of english whipping hearts and minds into literates of the written word...
So I'm expecting to be busy.
I guess I am waiting now until the others have finished and we present it to the publisher ready for the galleys.
I feel in a strange mood. My little doggette Baby, has gone to the vet for desexing. I just cannot bear the thought of a little of little darlings, birthing, mess and problems associated with a litter. And I will never forget the experience of having a female rottweiler on heat and a silkie terrier in love with his large black diva.
The house was boarded up like the scene in Les Miserables during the siege of Paris, and darling Chester could not be dissuaged. We bought him a little pair of pants but they didn't work, so we bought a pack of baby disposable nappies and found them abandoned constantly. That was a nightmare episode. So unhappy me is sitting here lady in waiting for the news that Baby is ready to come home.
Now that the new anthology has been finished and landing in at almost 20,000 k's, I go on to edit my WIP which is 60,000 k's.
My critique group also has a Challengemeister with a mission... set us challenges to keep our collective muses (musai?) bustling along. Zee is currently a lady of leisure luxuriating in summer break from her daily slog as professor of english whipping hearts and minds into literates of the written word...
So I'm expecting to be busy.
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