MAKING IT HAPPEN: Time, it doth fly. Fo’ reals.

I used to think that summertime went by faster than any of the other seasons.

Now I know for sure it does.

It feels like yesterday that I was getting ready to give birth to Little Miss Took.  Now she’s going on four months old. Where the heck does the time go?  (By the way, in case you’re wondering, Took is pretty much the easiest, sweetest baby ever.  And that’s saying something, because her older bros and sis were pretty stinking spectacular themselves.)

Anyway, August is looming around the corner.  School starts in less than a month.  I’m getting ready to ship the MS off to an editor.  I have a pretty solid cover idea.  I’m fine-tuning my log-line and blurb.  Mostly, though, I’m trying not to freak out too hard about how quickly time is going by and that pretty soon my first attempt at a book will be out there for all the world to see.

Gulp.  (Feel free to barrage me with comments about how awesome you’re sure my book is going to be, how you can’t wait to read it and buy copies for all your friends and co-workers, how this blog has utterly changed your life and you’ll never be the same, yadda, yadda, yadda, because hey, I’m just like every other writer out there and I crave affirmation like a zombie craves brains.)

A couple weeks ago I had y’all vote on whose undie drawer you’d like to dig through.  ‘Little Old Lady’ won by a landslide.  I can’t decide if that means the lot of you are sweet (to care about Little Old Lady so), or a bunch of sickos (I mean, who snoops in Little Old Lady’s underwear drawer?)  But you voted, and it’s my job to satisfy, so here we go.  You sick freaks.

‘Little Old Lady’ is actually a woman named Opal.  She’s a widow, mother, and grandmother.  She likes to think she has an impeccable judge of character.  Most of the time she does.

Her dresser is an antique.  I don’t know if it’s a good antique, but it’s old and lovely in her eyes.  She keeps a tatted doily on top – a wedding gift from some obscure relative too many years ago to mention.

She keeps her unmentionables in the top right drawer.  The smell of vanilla and lavender greets you – she keeps one of those papery satchels filled with potpourri tucked in the bottom.  Also tucked in the bottom is a yellowed stack of love letters from her late husband, Leo, along with a fading black-and-white photograph of the couple when they were young and love was something new.  A nearly used up bottle of Leo’s cologne rests nearby.  When she misses him she holds it up to her nose and breathes deeply.  She doesn’t spray it often – it’s too precious a thing to use freely.

If you dig around a little, I think you’ll find a stash of chocolate.  Nothing fancy, just a couple Hershey’s bars.  She started keeping them there when her daughter, Connie, was young.  Connie could never keep her hands out of the candy, and so Opal would keep it here, and sneak off to eat it in the bathroom in peace.  Now the habit is so old that it doesn’t ever cross her mind to do it any other way.

Under where she keeps the chocolate are two ticket stubs to game three of the ’89 World Series.  That was a day she’ll never forget.

The last thing of note in her drawer is a black velvet box that contains an unset black opal, slightly smaller than the palm of her hand.

That’s it for Opal’s drawer.  Put everything back how you found it, if you don’t mind.

Thanks for stopping by!  And if you’re interested in SHRILUGH and what’s coming, go check out my Pinterest boards, SHRILUGH and SHRILUGH AS YOU SEE IT.  The second one is put together by my BETA readers, and is a ton of fun!

Super big grins,

Myn

 

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