Looks and Taste

My youngest son Matthew has a lot of dietary restrictions. He can’t properly digest gluten or casein, and he’s allergic to nuts. It means I have to cook everything from scratch (which I’m secretly grateful for because I think we eat a lot healthier than we would otherwise). But it also means we can't eat anything with wheat, oats, rye, barley, etc. And no milk, cheese, etc. And no nuts.

So Matthew and I are always on the lookout for good recipes. We recently bought The Gluten Free Bible, a collection of GF recipes. We made the first recipe, Summer Rolls. The ingredients were rice wrappers, beef, shrimp, cilantro, and noodles. It was a lot of work--thankfully, Matt always helps--and they turned out beautiful. Sadly, they were very bland, even with the spicy dipping sauce. 

Another recipe bites the dust.

Chemistry, Black Holes, and Taxes for Writers

At least once a week, I wish that I wrote scifi or thrillers. Those are the days when my son comes home from lab with a story to tell. Yesterday, it was “Hey, in lab I separated mirror molecules and used them to bend light.” Or, “Did you know that all you have to do is mix X with Y and you’ll get the most amazing explosion?”

It seems to me that there ought to be websites that authors can peruse like Explosive Chemistry for Writers wherein a chemist lists all the household chemicals that can be mixed together to provide explosions—a la MacGyver or Burn Notice (though I’m told that those writers could use such a website too). Or what about Theoretical Physics for SciFi Writers. And there could be discussions of black hole firewalls (yes, this is a real thing), event horizons, and paradoxes. Of course, I think theoretical physics is mostly math and I can’t think of many writers who’d want Math for Writers. Unless it’s Tax Math for Writers. Doesn’t that sound great? All you have to do is plug in expenses and remittance information and voila Tax Math for Writers would print out proper tax paperwork.

Speaking of Tax Math, April is coming. Eleven months out of the year, I hope and pray for great sales. And then there’s one month where I hope my sales aren’t amazing. Tax time. I guess there is a time and season for everything.

Illustration by 420Ainsley, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Sticking It to the Man

Now that my children are adults, I admit that I take perverse pleasure in seeing them deal with the craziness of the grown up world.

I’ve heard them rail at the ridiculousness of the tax code. My response, “Yes, my dear child, it’s convoluted mumbo jumbo. The government doesn’t want you to understand the IRS forms—it supports a whole industry known as H&R Block.”

I’ve heard them deal with telemarketers. “No, we really don’t need ADT. We have a dog.” After hanging up, I’ve heard a particular child mumble, “That person claimed that you could incapacitate a dog with hairspray—how stupid is that? Don’t they know that (chemicals A, B, and C) won’t bother a dog?!” Yes, dear, telemarketers lie.

I’ve had to have them sitting next to me so I could talk to the financial aid department about my tax returns—they have to get on the phone and give permission at every step so the financial department doesn’t violate their right to privacy even though it’s about my tax return. Yes, dear, this is a waste of your time. Sorry. Cope.

One of my college seniors thinks the exit exams are ridiculous. I pointed out that the exams are just another hoop to jump through in the bureaucracy of life. This particular senior contemplated marking all the answers “C.” My husband said, “So, would that be your way of sticking it to the man?” I burst into peals of laughter. “Sticking it to the man? Seriously?” My husband and I fist bumped and laughed until tears nearly streamed down our faces.

Our kids are now convinced that Cal and I are insane. I suspect that they’re wheeling and dealing to see who gets stuck with the crazed parents. Poor Ariel, I’m afraid she’s going to get the short straw.

Read An E-book Week

This week, Smashwords is celebrating "Read An E-book Week." Lots of books are discounted or are available at reduced prices. So check it out. And if you'd like to read Screwing Up Time, it's one of the books being offered for FREE! Just use the coupon code RW100 when you check out.

Today, I'll be helping my parents move. So, starting Wednesday I should be back to my normal blogging schedule.

Goodwill, Grad School, and Vampires

It’s been a whole week since I’ve blogged. I don’t know if that’s ever happened before. Even when we go on vacation, I usually post pictures.

The good thing is that nothing bad has happened to me. Things have just gotten even busier than before (didn’t know that was possible). Here’s what’s been going on.

1. My parents are moving, so I’ve been helping them pack and thinking how grateful I am that it’s not me who’s moving. Though I’m jealous of the opportunity to cull:

My mom: Do you think I need to keep this?

Me: Have you used it in the last year?

My mom: No.

Me: It gets packed in the going-to-Goodwill box.

2. Luke and Ariel are preparing to visit graduate schools. Next weekend, Luke’s visiting University of Tennessee, Knoxville, and Ariel’s visiting Emory. Now I have to explain to people what my kids are going to study.

Me: Luke, are you studying those cage things that tie things together?

Luke: You mean ligands?

Me: Yeah.

Luke: No.

Me: Oh…

Luke: I’m studying organo-metallic catalysts.

I turn to Ariel.

Me: Ariel, so when people ask what you’re studying…

Ar: Math.

Me: Right. So I can say complex analysis.

Ar nods.

Me: Are there any practical applications?

Ar: I hope not.

3. I’ve been editing my third novel in Screwing Up Time series. Why is it that even though I know it’s the first edit after the first draft, I still hope that nothing needs to be changed? I find myself muttering and blaming my characters. Hmm...When my kids go to grad school and people ask what their mom does, will they say, “She grumbles and talks to herself”?

4. And last of all, I’ve been reading The Historian for my writers’ reading group. Normally, I’d never choose to read a vampire book. In fact, I’d usually view it as a literary punishment akin to reading James Joyce, but I’m loving this one.

The Bard

"Claudio" and two stage managers.

Today my youngest son has Shakespeare auditions. It means that all day I’ll be hearing Shakespeare. He’s auditioning for the role of Antipholus of Syracuse in The Comedy of Errors. I’m really looking forward to the play, especially since I haven’t read this one, because it’s known for wordplay and puns (okay, I’m not so fond of puns, but I love wordplay).

I love Shakespeare season because Matthew will quote Shakespeare for months on end. To me, the cadence of the plays, the witticisms, and the layers of meaning are literary bliss. You can’t help but love, “You speak an infinite deal of nothing.” (The Merchant of Venice). Or, "Sweetest nut hath sourest rind; Such a nut is Rosalind." (As You Like It). And what about the play within a play of Much Ado About Nothing, where Shakespeare pokes fun of Romeo and Juliet.

And here’s Matt’s favorite line: “O, that he were here to write me down an ass! But, masters, remember, that I am an ass; though it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass.” Much Ado About Nothing.

I thought I’d share a few photos from past years.

Irreconcilable Differences in Much Ado About Nothing.

Puck!

Renewing My Membership in Luddites-R-Us

Do you ever just feel like you’re never going to keep up with technology? Like once you think you’ve figured something out, some techno imp/evil nerd adds some new feature(s) just to make your life miserable. There are days when I want to renew my membership in Luddites-R-Us.

This week I discovered that the important phone call I was waiting for got sent to Missed Calls because the phone was plugged in and decided not to ring. (I mean, who told it not to ring?!)

Today, a friend posted about Facebook’s Message’s “Other” file. I didn’t know that FB had an “Other” file that it could dump messages in. I spent the morning “messaging” people whose messages got stuck in the other file and saying “sorry.”

So if you’ve left me a voicemail, sent me an email, messaged me, etc., etc., and I never replied, it’s because I’m techno-incompetent. Sorry. I’m trying.

The scary thing is that I’m the go-to-tech wizard for several friends/relatives. Yeah, my kids get shivers just thinking about it.