possibly pointless blabbering

Sicko, pt 2

annabowling 2 Comments

If I can’t blend in, I may as well be who I am.
–Rainbow Rowell

Two days ago, I ran out of socks. The list of things I want most in life is as follows, in constantly shifting order:

  1. Tea
  2. pizza
  3. orange juice
  4. soup
  5. full use of my entire mouth, including but not limited to :
    • ability to wear lipstick again :pets lipsticks:
    • ability to brush teeth without having to work around large dome-shaped crust on lower iip.
    • expressions of affection to Real Life Romance Hero

Please note that “socks” is not on that list because I dragged myself out to the laundromat this morning and did a load, while listening to recordings from last year’s RWA Nationals. Also free writing while doing both of the above. Even under the weather, multitasking makes me happy.

This post was originally going to be another dip into the archives, with a continuation of my Duluth post, but it’s a big file and would need to be split into two posts, and I’m cranky. See item #1 on the list above. So, instead, I’m going to ramble.

Today’s quote comes from the fabulous Rainbow Rowell, and it fits with my current area of self-directed study. Today’s picture comes from my write-in with SueAnn Porter on Monday.  Since we both compose in longhand, we left the laptops at home and instead brought our notebooks. SueAnn worked with one. I brought three, because my brain was all scattered, unfocused and prone to wandering off without me.

SueAnn suggested that our first writing sprint would be brain dumping, which I sometimes call bloodletting, spewing whatever is in my head onto the page. That went in the black hardcover Picadilly, and I’d planned to use my black Pilot Varsity fountain pen for that exercise, but pen had other ideas, and my first page has a small, interestingly shaped blob of ink in the middle. I ended up using a different pen.

Note the absence of tea and presence of a can of seltzer with a straw sticking out of it.  The cookie, though labeled as “cookies and cream” was actually red velvet (thank you, Jess-the-Barista, for clearing that up; red velvet makes anything better) and ended up coming home with me, because with the writing and the talking, some things have to take a back seat.

The Abbington Park notebook did not get used in this session, as SueAnn suggested I face my hesitation about working on Her Last First Kiss by doing some character work . Maybe, she suggested, I’m balking at this particular jump because the themes strike too close to home. There is some truth to that. Granted, I do not live in the eighteenth century, am not a member of the nobility and Real Life Romance Hero and I have been happily ever aftering for some time now, so my love life is not as tumultuous as my characters’ romantic prospects.

The thing, though, is that, without knowing it, I had seeded this book with some personal issues. Not fitting into one’s family of origin? Yep, know that. Caregiving? Know that, too. This book isn’t about me; it’s about my hero and heroine, and those really are their issues, and it would change the story into something else entirely were I to take those aspects out and give my people other hurdles to overcome.  Well, okay, then. Guess we’re doing this.

Knowing what the roadblocks are doesn’t make them go away, but it does make it possible for me to look at them head on and see how to climb over or dig under them.  It’s not a bad thing. Part of that wandering around in the forest time was spent trying, often too hard, to write things to which I did not have a close personal attachment, and that went down in flames, so going to the other end of the spectrum seems like a logical step to take.

Maybe it’s a good thing SueAnn and I had this talk while my brain took frequent mini-vacations without me, because at the end of most of our sprints, I had pen (blue Pilot Varsity) in hand, scratching across the mottled ivory of the page, spelling out how my hero got from adorable cherub child to grown man with seriously warped self image, and responded with, “Really? Already? Are you sure?” and kept making a few more quick notes. Not a bad outcome, that. We’re going to have to have more write-ins like this, but next time, the cold sore is not invited.

 

Sicko

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For most of the last few days, I have been a lump under the blanket in the recliner. On Thursday night, I felt a suspicious tingle on my bottom lip. I’ve had enough of those to know what that meant: cold sore.

I hate cold sores. They’re painful. They’re  ugly. They sap my energy. They present a lot of complications for a lipstick loving tea drinker who was looking forward to pizza on Friday night. Until the scab drops, it’s goodbye to all of that and hello to ibuprofen and ointment and a brain whose new hobby is flitting off without me. In a word, not fun. Okay, those were two words.

Because I am me, the need to rest took a while to sink in. Friday, I did laundry and then hied myself off to the local CVS because all the ibuprofen in our house had expired last month. Saturday, I decided that I was feeling up to running the weekly errands with Housemate. I found out fairly quickly into that trip that I was not. I take some comfort in knowing I was mildly entertaining, and that I did have the presence of mind to replace toothbrush and two out of three lip products.

The adventure of Saturday errands over, I retreated to my recliner and blankey, played the Sims 4 game time demo until I’d exhausted the time allotted (will probably get the game with the next computer, but it’s a bit much for the current machine, as well as a more cartoony game than I generally like) watched DVDs, napped a lot, and wrote.

Today, I’m venturing out, ahead of the big snowstorm barreling our way, to meet SueAnn Porter for a write-in. I’m going to miss the tea, mightily, and spend my time sucking seltzer or iced tea, if I can make myself order that when it’s eleven degrees out and we will be buried under a blanket of white by nightfall. I have no idea what I’m actually going to be writing today.  Hopefully something Her Last First Kiss related, but if it ends up as freewriting or something else, that’s okay, too. I’m allowed a partial sick day.

Even when I feel like horse poop that’s been crushed by a steamroller, there’s still that part of me that wants to drag out of the energy-free sludge and head off to story world, because that’s my natural environment. So, the HLFK notebook goes into my bag, along with a fountain pen, because writing with those always feels like a special treat, and I’m going to give it a go. Total crash time afterwards, at least until it’s time to recap tonight’s Sleepy Hollow, but tomorrow could be a sick day and a snow day at the same time. Which I will probably spend writing. There could be worse things. Not being able to have hot chocolate while having a sick day and a snow day at the same time may be one of those, but I think I will live. There is something to be said for anticipation.

Throwback Thursday: Duluth, Part One

annabowling 2 Comments

I sometimes forget the lessons of my past. We all have them. But don’t worry they come back to remind you that your journey isn’t over.
-Adrian Paul

I normally don’t do Throwback Thursday, but blogging three times per week is one of my goals, and since I am not going to show up at my next CR-RWA meeting (especially because I will be the speaker) on February 14th and say I did not meet my goals (if I make a goal public, I will meet that or die trying; it’s something I do) and because Sue Ann Porter has a way of encouraging me, today, you get to hop in my wayback machine.

The year was 2013, our family newly arrived in Albany, my writer brain in a constant state of shock and caught between projects. I had only recently discovered the joys of Hudson River Coffee House, where I am writing this entry. On this particular day, date lost to the wilds of time, Housemate banished me there after one of my mild freakouts (“What on earth am I doing, thinking I can write anymore?” variety) and said I had to write something. So, there was this:

2012 was one of those years. Family health issues. Planning and carrying out an interstate move when one family member was not physically able to make any of the apartment hunting trips. Carrying out said move in stages, one of them involving sending one family member into a hurricane to carry out said stage solo because another did not want a third anxiety attack that week. A first trip to the hospital from our new home. Changes in important relationships. Buying a second snow shovel because we live in Albany and it’s winter and one shovel is not going to dig us out properly.

2013 is an unknown quantity. I’m letting one ms settle and diving into another. It scares me. What on earth am I getting myself into? Fear. The bad kind. Fear. The good kind.

What’s the difference between the two? Good question. When I find out, I will let you know, but I’ll give it a stab (and stabbing does seem like a good option at times, the object of which can vary.)

Bad fear = what if every bad thing anybody ever said about my writing is true? What if it’s true and I have no other marketable skills? What if I really do suck? What if I suck and there was something I could have done to not suck but I didn’t do it and now it’s too late to fix it because I really do suck and it’s all my fault? What if I have to live with the wanting to write and the needing to write and never being able to write for the rest of my life ? DOOM! DOOM!DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!

Good fear = I have never done X before, but it could be fun. Am I really doing it right?

:pokes X with a stick, then scuttles back a safe distance to observe:

:comes back, presuming the poking of X did not result in personal death or obliteration of all humankind; pokes X again. Repeat until done, then poke something else.:

Do I have all the answers? No. Do I have  my answers? Maybe. Let me look around the bottom of my purse a while longer. Or fumble my way through manuscript B and occasionally poke A with a stick. There is fear, both kinds. There are times I feel like I can’t find my way back to my normal writing self any more than I can find my way to Apartment Four, 738 North Anything Street in Duluth, Minnesota. At night. In a snowstorm. On foot. Wearing earplugs. During a blackout. In the zombie apocalypse. One thing is sure, though; if I never take one step, I’ll never get there.

So. This is a step. Today, I wrote. Is it a completed work of fiction between eighty and one hundred thousand words in my chosen genre? No. Is it real? Yes. Is it true? Yes. Is it finished? Yes. Did it bring me one step closer to that mythical apartment in Duluth? Yes. Are the residents expecting me? Maybe. I’ll find out when I get there. So will you. We all have a Duluth. I firmly believe that, and I firmly beleive that putting one foot in front of the other will eventually get you there. Maybe you’re on the right track now, and maybe you’ll need to circle the world a time or two, but the surest way to make sure you never get there is to not try. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. Dress in layers. Stay hydrated. Rest, and then continue. Fill the well. Write something. Ask for directions. Right foot, left foot. Right foot, left foot. See you there.

This Time, It’s The N

annabowling Leave a comment

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not a race. It’s finding your voice. You’re okay. Now get off that ledge, give yourself a day off, feed your soul with something that brings you joy and sit back down from a place of peace. You’re a writer. You’re fine. You have all the time in the world.
-Beth Treadway

Well, I knew it had to happen sometime. We have had the first casualty, or should I say, sign of wear, on the new external keyboard. The bottom part of the N, I noticed as I sat down for the morning’s session, is not as there as it used to be.  I take that as a source of pride. I’ve been pounding keys enough to wear away letters on this new keyboard. As I started typing this entry, I noticed that the L is looking shaky on the bottom as well. Not too shabby, getting those letters, well, um, shabby.

Wearing the letters off keys may be the computer equivalent of emptying pens, which I have also been doing. I’d say filling notebooks as well, but maybe that’s more like using up memory with accumulated files. Maybe? Maybe not? I’m not sure that everything translates like that, but that’s not where I’m putting my mental energy these days.

The first part of this week was consumed by domestic tornadoes of the sort that make one exclaim, “Really, life? Really?” Along with a few other strong words.  Second half of the week looks better, with a new opportunity that may be in the offing, but let’s get back to the first part, which fits very well with today’s quote.  There are going to be times in every writer’s life when the world goes crazy. That’s not an if, that’s a when, and it’s going to happen to everybody. Accepting that makes it easier to handle, I’ve found.

The last few years, the last year, and the last couple of days have made me realize how much a part of me writing actually is. It’s been a dedicated search to find my voice again, and find the process that works for the writer and the person I am now. There’s some wandering around in the woods still, but there are trail markers, and those are all worthy of celebration. It’s not a race (unless there’s a deadline, but that’s a good thing) and it’s okay to take the time to do it right.

Head down, eyes on my own paper. I got this. I know how to write a book. I know how to write a romance novel. I may not have a muse, but I do have a magpie, and she is happily gathering shiny things; books and movies and songs and scents and flashes of scenes and I am getting all of this down. Emptying pens. Filling notebooks. Rubbing the letters off computer keys.  Putting story where there was no story before. That’s progress.

The bottom bar of that L key is going down.

Typing With Wet Claws: Explaining the Writer Brain Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday.

The humans say the new year is now underway, but it has been for the last week or so, so I think they need to pay better attention to their calendars. Anyway, this week has been cold. Thankfully, I have a built in full length fur coat, and I am an indoor kitty, so I did not have to go outside. My humans did, every day, and they were not always happy about it, but they are happy to come home to a warm apartment, and, of course, to me.

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One good thing about  the weather being this cold and sometimes snowy is that it inspires Anty to hunker down and get some writing done.  This is what her current desktop screen looks like. She picked this picture because it is very similiar to the cover of the calendar on the wall of her office, but will probably change the desktop a few times before she finds something that feels really right. The important thing here was to put the Christmas desktop away until it is Christmas again. She is always a little sad to see her favorite time of the year come to an end, but it is my job to remind her that this means the start of a new year, and Valentine’s Day is coming very soon. Valentine’s day is a very important day for romance writers.

Also important is when Anty has a new post at Heroes and Heartbreakers, and this Monday, she did. She is very glad this was her week to recap Sleepy Hollow, because a lot happened, for three different ships (I am still not sure how ships fit into this kind of show, but they do not tell kitties these things.) Her post is here and looks like this:

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There have been a lot of domestic tornadoes this week, but Anty is not letting that distract her from getting ready for the new book. I can tell she is working hard at this because sometimes, she does not seem to be all there. Writers’ pets, you know what I mean. If you are not a writer’s pet (or a writer’s human) then I will explain.

Sometimes, your writer may get so deep into their book, especially when they are getting ready to make their first draft, that part of their brain will stay there, even when they are doing other things. Even when they are doing important other things, like ordering tea or making human food. Ask them a question that they should be able to answer easily, but all the answer that gets is a confused look, something that sounds like “huh?” and maybe a quick mumble before they start getting antsy (like I do before I have to, um, defend my family against the Green Chair of Evil.) At that point, it is best to accept the inevitable. Your writer has a new book brewing, and they are going to be spending a good deal of their time talking to the people who live in their heads. Anty says it is more a case of making sure the people in her head talk to her. Either way, the people in Anty’s head live several  hundred years in the past, so it makes sense that it takes her some time to get back to the rest of us. As long as she can still open the bag of treats, I am okay with that.

Anty's typical view

Anty’s typical view

That is about it for this week. Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Typing With Wet Claws: Happy New Year Edition

annabowling Leave a comment

Hello, all. Skye here, for the first Feline Friday of 2015.

First of all, thank you to all who read my entries. Today’s picture is me, getting ready to blog. I give these posts a lot of thought because I want to do a good job. I am glad that my readers think that I do.

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The big news today is that Anty can confirm she has destinked my notebook.  She is very happy about that. Even Uncle, who has a super sniffer (for humans; cats are still better at smelling than he is. Nothing personal. It is a fact.) cannot smell my contribution. It is good to be off the hook for this one. Anty has learned she really cannot leave any of her notebooks on the floor, so even she has learned something from this experience.

Two things, really. One, not to leave books near my pee spot, no matter how tired she is, and two, how to destink a notebook doused in cat piddle. In case you want to know how, it is easy.

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  1. Put the stinky book in a big Ziploc bag; it must be the kind that zips closed. Ties or flaps will not work, because this must be airtight. Anty says it’s worth going for the brand name on this.
  2. Pour baking soda into the bag. Use a lot. You should be able to see a couple inches of it in the bottom of the bag.
  3. Squeeze all the air out and zip the bag all the way shut.
  4. Keep it shut for about a week.
  5. Every day during that week, shake the bag about twice a day, so the baking soda gets all over the notebook, in between all the pages.
  6. At the end of the week, open the bag. Take the book out and shake it over the trash, to get any excess baking soda out.
  7. Smell the book. Does it still smell like kitty piddle? If it does not, your book is saved. If not, you may want to put it back in the bag and throw it out. Then buy a new book.

Anty also tried this on the notebook that got soaked by her water bottle, and this trick got rid of that smell, too.

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She says that saving two notebooks she thought were lost for sure starts the year off on a good note. I think she is right. Now we will know what to do if this ever happens again. I do not think that it will (at least not the part about my pee place) but at least there is a protocol in place.

Happy 2015

Happy 2015

i think that is it for now, so happy new year to everybody. See you next week.

Until then, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Plannering

annabowling 2 Comments

Monday’s entry on Wednesday, that’s not too bad. Last time this year I’ll be off schedule, I promise. Since today is New Year’s Eve, I am fairly certain I can keep that promise. As for the year ahead, well, that’s still an open -and unwritten- book. Actually, a few of them.

2014 was one of the interesting years, and I am not sorry to see it go. 2015 is full of opportunity. I intend to make the best of it. Not making resolutions this year. Goals, yes. Making those, and keeping track of things in notebooks and planners is definitely part of that.

Though 2014 had its surprises, one of the good ones was me falling in love with Paperblanks notebooks, via my 2014 planner. That’s the green one above, reproduced from a 19th century French silk textile design (I would so get the regular notebook in that design, but I’m picky about closures, and the closure on the pocket size makes no sesnse) It’s paired with my 2015 planner, in my new Paperblanks design crush, the silver filigree, aka “The Precious.”

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That’s the entire Precious family to date – planner is in onyx, aka Badass Precious because it’s the tough one. Baby Boy Precious is the blue one, and the first one to come  home; I knew right away that was to be the pocket notebook for the new historical, and started it as such. That is going to get a small adjustment as his sister (yes, some of my notebooks have genders) Baby Girl Precious was my Christmas gift to me. I wasn’t sure what to do with her at first, but getting the whole family together, it became clear; Baby Boy gets hero notes and Baby Girl gets heroine notes. Appropriate, because one of my goals (see, goals, not resolutions) is to know the hero and heroine of this book inside out so I do not flounder and we do not end up blinking at each other halfway through the book and wander off in our separate directions. That is so last year. Last several, actually, but moving right along…

The ultimate goal is to nab the desk sized version of Baby Boy, aka Big Daddy Precious. If there is a Big Mama Precious, she is, of course, welcome. Still needed a desk sized notebook because writing in pocket sized all the time makes my hands cramp, so in the meantime, I am drafting this lovely notebook that was a birthday present from my lovely housemate:

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This book -oh heck, the working title is Her Last First Kiss– is not an inspirational romance (it’s historical) but when the right notebook calls out, I am going to use that notebook. Colors coordinate with Baby Boy (and someday Big Daddy) so the association is easy to make.

But those are notebooks, not planners, even if what they mostly contain right now is plans for the 2015 book. Whatever works, right? Right now, I want to write in these with fountain pens, to which I am fairly certain I can become addicted to in short order. Appropriate for a historical writer, I say. Microns will do if I find myself without a fountain pen, but first choice right now is the Pilot Varsity.

As for calendars, this one will be adorning my office wall for the next twelve months:

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I knew I had to have it as soon as I saw it on the rack at Barnes and Noble, as it fit oh so well with the notebooks below:

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Different manufacturers, but same feel, and my brain says they all smell like baby powder, even though they do not. That would be the images smell like baby powder, not the notebooks.

For those wondering if I ever managed to destink Skye’s notebook, I am letting the baking soda sit for one extra day to be extra extra sure, and then finding out.

aoon, we will know...

aoon, we will know…

What planners/notebooks are starting out your new year?

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Boxing Day Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Hello and happy Boxing Day (that is the day after Christmas, if you do not know what that is) to all. Skye here, for my second post of the week, because it is Feline Friday once again.

I spent most of the second part of yesterday under Anty and Uncle’s bed, because that is my safe place. Company came, and the humans laughed really really loud a lot. Everybody had stories to tell, there were a lot of food smells, and most of the lights were on. Too much for this kitty. Also, the company smelled like two other cats and a dog, and I was not sure if those guys were going to come in, too. Really, under the bed was the best place. I did come out once while the company was here, to get treat Uncle put in my purple bowl (that is where my treat goes; my food goes in my other bowl. That other bowl is white.Mama put some food in that one while Anty took care of company) but I stayed close to the wall to be safe. In case you are wondering, the other pets did not come with the company, which was only people. The people were very nice and my humans seem to like them. Maybe I will come out next time.

Anty and Uncle say company has to come back so everybody can start the traditional Christmas zombie hand (I have talked about that before) which may not be only for Christmas, if they are doing it at another time.  One of the guests said she reads my blog and likes it. I have a fan. That is a wonderful Christmas present. I also got filet mingnon flavored cat food. I really really liked that. I usually eat fish jelly (which is also good) but on special days, I get filet mingnon. I do not know if I spelled that right.

Anty managed to get some writing done in between all the Christmas things, and she was up again early this morning to do more.  That is a very good sign. I had better get my blog entry posted before she wants the glowy box again.  She is no longer grinchy or meh. I think that is a good thing. She says she has plans for 2015, but first, today is the start of her favorite week of the year. She calls the week between Christmas and New Year the “tucked away week” and says it is special. I am not sure exactly how it is different from the rest of the year, apart from being between two holidays. Maybe it is the leftovers. Anyway, she usually spends that week with a lot of stories – reading (she is now reading Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell, which Mama gave her for Christmas) and watching movies. This year, there will probably be  lot of writing as well. She says she is making up for lost time. I am not sure what that means, but writing makes her happy, and a happy Anty gives me bigger portions of treat.

 

Not a real kitty

Not a real kitty

That is about it for now. Next week’s blog may need to go up on Thursday instead of Friday, because Friday is New Year’s Day, and Anty will go visit Anty Michele, who also writes books and lives in the Old Country.  Anty Michele has a party every year where humans trade books. Anty loves this party, so that is where she will be that day.

Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

 

Typing With Wet Claws: Special Christmas Edition

annabowling 2 Comments

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and happy Thursday to those who not. Skye here, pinch hitting for Anty on Christmas day. I have never written two blogs in one week before, so I am a little nervous here. Anty said she really needs me to blog for her today, because she is very busy, so I will give it a try. There is a lot of stuff going on today.  I will try to hit the highlights.

Wrapping paper is very noisy, in case you were wondering.

Wrapping paper is very noisy, in case you were wondering.

Anty got up very early this morning to make sure all the Christmas things were in order. We are having company this year, which we usually do not, but Anty gets excited over company, so things are happening. Lots of presents under the tree. This year, Anty decided that black and white wrapping paper is classy and versatile, so it was mostly that and the kraft paper she uses for a lot of different things. Anty, Uncle and Mama exchanged presents after breakfast. I hid under the bed because wrapping paper is very noisy when it is getting unwrapped. Fun to play with in small amounts, though. I will bat some of it around later tonight, probably after company has gone home.

Mr. and Mrs. Gothy Claus

 

Sometimes, new characters pop up in Anty and Uncle’s heads, that live with us instead of inside books. This year, Mr. and Mrs. Gothy Claus happened, because they were both wearing black.  They both wear a lot of black. Some of my fur is black, too. Uncle’s hat says “Bah Humbug.” Anty makes him wear it all during presents. That is okay, because he likes it. I do not wear anything on my head. Ribbon bows were discussed when I first joined the family (I have been here a few years) and I said very big no thank you, because ribbon bows are scary and I do not want them on my head.

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Anty is not wearing all black today; yesterday, she painted her toenails red with green glitter. She said she wanted obnoxious Christmas nails. She didn’t get a chance to do her fingernails, but the toes came out nicely. Did I mention I love the smell of nail polish? I always want to be really really close to her when she does her nails. Then I stare at her, very hard. It’s a cat thing.

The only holiday movie Anty has had a chance to see so far is A Very Brady Christmas, which she says is perfect in its horribleness. I do not understand the criteria Anty has for judging movies. She and Mama plan to watch more Christmas movies during the upcoming week. I will probably hide under the bed if they laugh too loudly, which they probably will. i will come out for treat, though, and possibly playtime.

That is about it for now, at least until the company comes. I will tell you about the rest of the day tomorrow.

Until then, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)

Typing With Wet Claws: Six Days to Christmas Edition

Asideannabowling 2 Comments

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Hello, all. Skye here, for another Feline Friday.

Anty really needs me to blog for her today, because it is six days until Christmas. She says she has been running around in circles, screaming, but that is not entirely what is going on.  She has been spending time on the glowy box, and writing in her notebooks. Also making a lot of lists, because lists help her feel calmer and more in control. I wish I could make lists, but hiding under the bed does the trick pretty well, so I am okay most of the time.

Anyway, Anty has hit the critical stage for Christmas. That is her favorite day of the year. Normally, she is very happy about this from the time we are done with Thanksgiving dinner, but this year, not so much. Life is good, but there have been a lot of domestic tornadoes. Anty being Anty, she has a plan to work around this. Some of it involves making a lot of lists. She says she is not putting her lists on this blog, so I cannot share them, but she says I can share other parts of her plan.

What Christmas movies are missing from this picture?

What Christmas movies are missing from this picture?

Christmas movies are a big part of getting into the holiday spirit in our house. Uncle likes Elf, but we do not have that one. It is still good, though. Anty likes Love Actually so much that she has the book of it; that is in script form, not a novel, which she finds unusual and very fun. Yes, she has read along with the movie, in case you were wondering about that. She also can say Billy Mack’s whole swear line from memory and thinks it is very creative. She might not like me saying that, so maybe do not share that part. Thank you in advance for your discretion.

About a Boy counts because it is not a Christmas movie, but has two important Christmas scenes, and she says that is enough to qualify. It is also by Nick Hornby, and Anty really really likes his stories. She thinks he should write more books. She has already read all the ones there already are, so she needs more.

Mr. Magoo’s Christmas Carol is the first movie Anty ever saw in a theater. It was not new then, so you cannot tell how old she is by that. She does say she felt cheated because the first thing she saw in that movie was the curtains opening to show theater seats. That was confusing to a human kitten.  She still loves it, though, even if nobody else in the family will watch it with her. She would eat razzleberry dressing if it were real.

Anty did not want to see The Holiday at first, but her friend, Carol, said it was good, so she watched it and now she loves it almost as much as Love Actually. Only almost. Maybe if it had Hugh Grant, it would rank higher, but it does have Jude Law. Uncle does not like Hugh Grant, but Jude Law is okay. He has Jude Law’s Sherlock movies, but they are not about Christmas.

She took the Charlie Brown movie out of the library yesterday, because if that couldn’t get her in the Christmas spirit, nothing could. I think it is working, and she has not even seen it yet. This time,  I mean. She has seen it a lot before.

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What other Christmassy books are good this time of year?

 

When Anty is not on her glowy box, in a notebook or watching a movie, she finds Christmas stories are very good this time of year. She loves Christmas romance anthologies (do you know any good ones?) and, although she did not know it, Landline starts at Christmas.  She says that is coincidence, but I think there may be something more than that going on. It is the season of miracles, after all.

Until next time, I remain very truly yours,

Skye O’Malley Hart-Bowling
(the kitty, not the book)