Superbowl Sunday stuff

It's the husband's favorite day of the year. Football. Snack food. Football. And everything that goes with that.

Two years ago, it was the day I finally decided to get off my hind end and started seriously querying agents about Spark. The day that began the journey that's ended up here and now where I'm actually moving that same book toward a publication date. So what did I tell myself that day? Well, I guess the first thing I told myself was, gee, this computer room looks like a great place to hide from excess testosterone on tv. But beyond that, I really do remember thinking that if I didn't put myself out there - really, really out there - then I'd never know what could happen. So I took a deep breath and did it.

Went to a baby shower yesterday. Lots of the requisite oohing and aahing over teensy clothes and hooded towels and a kick ass invention called a swim diaper! Not sure how this works, but it sure sounds good that said baby could wear a diaper into the pool and not have it swell to the size of a cow's head as it does its job soaking up liquid. And lots of eating girlie food like egg casseroles and mimosas.

Also lots of small talk, something I'm never good at. In my world it always ends up like it did yesterday:

Woman at my table: (forks up some cheese grits) So you wrote a book. That's great.
Me: (pokes at far too cheesy hash browns) Yes. It's coming out next year. It's called Spark and it's a young adult novel.
Cheese Grits Woman: That's great. I want to take this class on how to carve shapes into fruit and vegetables. You know. Like on cruises. Like when they carve heads into the watermelons.
Me: Really? Good for you. (sucks down glass of peach ice tea and ponders what to say next)

Til next time...