Five Things for Friday

Pretentious: So, you remember the guys you used to mock in high school because whenever they passed a mirror, they would look in it and artistically muss up their hair? I am now one of those guys. No, I don’t actually do this for every mirror I pass (I’m sure it’s only every third or fourth one). But essentially my hairstyle now is “messy—but on purpose.” And I can’t help it that, every morning when I do my hair for the day,* I feel just a little bit pretentious.

Houseguests: You know how Benjamin Franklin said “fish and visitors stink after three days”?** In the case of my current guests, I must say they are still smelling as fresh and lovely as the day they arrived. We have been happily hosting two of my sisters and three of one sister’s kids since Wednesday (I suppose this means they could start smelling tomorrow? I doubt it though). They are lovely houseguests.

I, on the other hand, am not the most lovely of hostesses. I do try, really, but I think it says something about the situation that they have probably done more dishes and meal preparation than I have, definitely made more beds than I have (what? make my bed? why?), and done my daughter’s hair more than I have. In fact, it’s quite possible that my house will be cleaner after they leave than before they came.

NaNoWriMo and other literary craziness: Yes, I sort of forgot to mention it, but I did achieve my NaNoWriMo goal! Calloo callay! I celebrated by eating ice cream and doing a happy excited dance very quietly (so as not to wake up the girls). And then I promptly started dreading all the editing the novel would require. You think I’m joking or exaggerating or something, but I’m really not. Take, for example, this passage.

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Lewis. And me and Gillian—Fgillian and I--we’re just planning on studying. Just studing, all night long. Nothing else.”

Now I realliy winced. How could hep possibly have said thais in a way to  make her even more suspicoul? I coulnd’t think of a way.

“So that’s it,” I said to Mom, gently grabbing Sam’s elbow and trying to steer him toward the living room. “Like he said, just studying. We’ll be in here if you need us.”

I practicaly had to yank him the rest of the way into the living room, and then I just stared at him for a minute. “Realyy? I asked. “You had to meniotn it three times? Nothing suspcious there. For a guy who’s good with words, you’re awfully dumb sometimes.” I smiled to take a waawy the sting.

Take a gander, if you please, at just the need for spell checking (ignoring altogether everything else that might be wrong with it). This, my friends, is what my writing looks like during NaNoWriMo. So, yeah, there’s a lot of work to do.

On the other hand, I’m taking a break, as Brice already mentioned, to do something completely different in December. A contest! Facing off against… my husband (and probably countless faceless masses)! So wish me luck.

Thirty-something: Yes, indeed, I had a birthday. I have now achieved the ripe old age of … (drum roll, please) … thirty-one. I don’t feel particularly old.*** I know lots of women dread reaching the thirties, but I must confess a lack of consternation over it last year, and no more consternation this year. The only real problem is this: shouldn’t I be a little more mature by now? Don’t you think? Say, maybe by now I should have stopped using the word “like” extragrammatically? Or dealt with and tossed out a little more emotional baggage? Or, I dunno, at least learned to make my bed in the morning?**** Perhaps these shall be tasks for the coming year. But honestly, folks, life is pretty awesome, even at thirty-one (especially with the Fantastic Hubby of Shininess).*****

I can’t count: It turns out that I can really only think of four things today. I’m sure if I were feeling more brilliant, I’d come up with something else. But… no.

*Okay, maybe not every morning. I don’t actually even do my hair every morning.

**Obnoxiously, the Googoracle could not inform me whether he actually said “smell in three days” or “stink after three days.” So please don’t send me hate mail telling me I quoted it wrong.

***More correctly: I don’t feel particularly old until I have conversations with friends in which I realize they are twenty-one (cough, cough, Rachel a couple years ago and now Meghan). And then I later realize that when I was graduating from high school, my friend was… eight.

****Please see above section, “Houseguests.”

*****And he didn’t even have to bribe me to call him that. Actually, if he’d come up with the name, it would probably have been way cooler.