Sorry, George RR, I'm not ready to commit...

http://insidetv.ew.com/2014/06/03/george-r-r-martin-ice-and-fire-publishing-plan-game-of-thrones/

So I've had LOTS of people recommend reading Mr. George RR Martin's works... LOTS.  And I admit, they seem right up my ally and unlike the rest of the civilized world, I do not have HBO so nothing has been spoiled for me as far as character deaths go (of which, I am told, there are too many to count).

Here is my problem:  I suffer from Post-Traumatic Harry Potter Release Date Stress. Or, if you prefer PTHPRDS.  Its a thing, I swear.  I spent a decade waiting for the releases of JK Rowling's books and movies. The series became a part of my life; the fandom, a friend.  It was all-consuming in a way that might not have been healthy.

I can't bring myself to do that again.

At least on purpose.  Rick Riordan, that sneaky bastard (In the best possible way. I love him. He is my spirit animal.), hooked me with the Percy Jackson books.  I thought I was jumping in at the end, but then he began a whole NEW series and here I am eagerly awaiting/mournfully dreading the NEW end this October.  Years and YEARS later.

So this article, that I linked above, means that for the time being, Mr. Martin and his series is nothing to me.  I get the whole "artistic license" thing.  He's the creator of this world or whatever so he can drag it out as long as he likes... but until he ends it, I am gonna steer clear.  Didn't he take five years between the most recent two books???

At this rate, I will be dead before the series is through.  So will he, for that matter... so that is worrisome.

Nope.  Sorry.  Won't do it.

This is actually happening

I have hit a milestone, my friends.  I spent yesterday afternoon, while Al was napping and Jones was Math-gaming (ie: his version of quiet time), brainstorming plot.  For me, this is a highly technical process that I perfected in my angsty teenaged years of sitting in a comfy chair, blaring emo music (via headphones, nowadays) and scratching out dialogue and random song lyrics in a big notebook.

HIGHLY technical. 

But, Erin, you say, that's just what every teenager does.  Sits alone, being gloomy/willfully misunderstood and listening to alt rock.

Indeed. Forget for a minute that I am thirty... er...thirty one. It works, right?

Back on topic, though, my MILESTONE. I started plotting out the last quarter or so of my story.  You know: where should I end this one and where to start the next one?  Do I resolve or just keep building, building, BUILDING tension towards a cliffhanger?  In making my decisions, I was struck with the startling realization that I am going to FINISH WRITING A BOOK.

And I am terrified.

In all my twenty years of wanting to be an author, in jotting plot bunnies down on scrap paper and jabbing them in random places, only to be found and puzzled over months and years and Major Life Events later, it never actually occurred to me that I could finish something. 

Of course the movies and their soundtracks have played endlessly in my head before falling asleep.  And I've perfected my NPR interview.  But to actually have the end in sight??? 

It is completely daunting. 

I need an agent.  I need to write cover letters.  I need to get rejected 7 million times, so I need to get started RIGHT NOW.

Of course, I still need to finish the book. 

And there are the other two books in the series that I need to be concerned about.

So I should just chill out.  And rest in the knowledge that God already knows how my particular plot plays out and He's written a fantastic story for me full of ups, downs and of course, cliffhangers.

 

Daniel Radcliff not playing a creepy guy???  Count me in.  This looks adorable.

Brad Paisley is a good egg in my book

https://music.yahoo.com/news/brad-paisley-taunts-westboro-baptist-protestors-183002743-rolling-stone.html

So one of my all-time most incredible fan girl stories is of the time that my girl, Meg, and I were chosen for the "hot girl" seats at a Brad Paisley concert.  We were tooling around before the show, sitting on the concrete sidewalk that leads up to the cheapo lawn seats (that we purchased- no shame), when a man came up to us with free passes to the front rows.  According to him, 'Brad likes to take care of his fans' or something along those lines and two young mothers fit the bill.

It was awesome.  We were close enough to touch Brad, if we wanted (we didn't.  it felt creepy) and he put on a fantastic, clean show.  I sang to every song and am pretty sure I might have even cried at a point or two.  In my defense, I was pregnant. 

I think that's why this article struck me.  I saw the selfie that Brad took yesterday and then read up on it this morning.  These Westboro Baptists sure have a lot of time on their hands.

For a group with such high morals, you would hope (and pray) that they would channel that spiritual fervor in to sharing the love of Jesus, rather than spreading fear and pain.

Also, they just seem tacky.

Its been awhile since I posted that its been awhile since I've posted.

Such is the life of a seriously important, on demand person.

Such is my life at times, too.

So here is the thing.  I hate emailing.  I just do. 

I'm not such a fan of calling on the phone either.

That being said, I so understand the whole "facebook is the end of all human to human contact".  And to be perfectly honest, sometimes I hate myself after reading facebook.  I hate that I compare myself to other more-with-it, more successful, skinnier and better moms.  And I hate that I know more about obscure people I've barely spoken with in real life than I do my parents. And I hate, I hate, I HATE political memes. (PLEASE tell me someone out there heard that in Hook's voice???)

SO.

Then I was writing an email (I said I hate it, not that I won't do it) and I got to the "electronic signature" portion where my blog address is located, which I always just delete out of habit and... What?!  What am I DOING?

I.Have.A.Blog!!!

Duh. 

And so here I am.  On my blog.

If you didn't know, I recently moved to a new state.  Michigan.  That's right. Puuuuuure Michigan.  And if you haven't noticed because you are too cool for facebook or you have unfriended me, in which case I doubt you will see this, then I will tell you that I have been posting a LOT about my family in these past few weeks.  This is because we moved hours and hours away from my children's grandparents and aunts and uncles.  Therefore, it is my job, nay, my duty, to keep them well informed in all things Hahn kids.

Sorry for that, if its not your scene. 

My remedy is this:  I will blog about my family and our adventures and whatever else I want and then you can CHOOSE to follow along.  As this is a democratic process, you may choose NOT to follow along.  Either way, I won't judge. But seriously, who wouldn't want to know?

Today, I don't have much to report on my family.  Its Monday.  I did laundry. Four loads, which doesn't seem like a big deal, but when you pay $3 for each, it can be daunting.  Its a stressor I never counted on... which clothing makes the cut?  Will we need these fleece jammie pants this week?  Its like eighty five, so no.  Sorry, fleecies, you are back on the bench.  Maybe next time.

And I am pre-making dinner.  All day long.  There are two reasons for this.  1. My husband commented off handedly to me last week that since I've been working on my book again, I've let the "preparedness" that I am known for go to the wayside.  Puh. 2. Since I no longer work (apart from aforementioned author-ing), I find I need to create my own schedule.  So here is what I have:

7:30 wake up.  Pretend you've been awake longer so when husband comes in to wake you, you can be like "what? I've been awake forever.  Just catching up on current events on my phone.."

8:00 Coffee and quiet time.  I do my bible study and the kids start begging me for second breakfast.

8:02 Cave and make second breakfast and then back to quiet time.

8:45 Distracted quiet time is over and I make my breakfast

9:00 Shower

9:01 Turn on water and then catch my kids trying to get another snack since they think I'm in the shower.  Put away the snack. Get in the shower.

9:30 Start separating laundry while listening to BBC on NPR.  Yes, I really, really do this.

9:45 Laundry round one.

10:45 Start laundry round 2 and snack time (or third breakfast or pre lunch)

11:00 Sort through kids clothes for donations.  I am thinking we might be done with sweaters, finally.

11:45 Laundry round one is folded and sorted away.

12:30  Picnic lunch on floor for kids.

12:45 Laundry round two complete.  Kids help me get it this time.  Complain while I am sorting in the laundry room that they are hungry and wish they hadn't come with so they could have finished their lunch instead.

1:00 Make lunch for me. Leftovers.

1:15 Put away dishes in dishwasher and reload from umpteen meals thus far today.

1:30 Take lettuce out and rinse it for chop salad dinner.  Needs to sit out and dry off, since I don't have a lettuce spinner.

1:45 I've been texting my fellow rad mom, Audrey, all morning and we are hilarious.  This is the point, where I believe, we started talking smack about her neighbor's tree service. Worth noting, I think.

2:00 Bacon for chop salad in oven.

2:02 Before my kids can ask for another snack, they get a warning that rest time is coming.

2:03 They hide.

2:15 I decide to find them and get them into beds. Take bacon out.  Nice and crispy, just how I like it.

2:30 Decide to resurrect the blog.

3:00 Post blog.  Link on fb just so everyone knows and then time to work on book.

4:00 Kids will likely still be asleep.  I will consider waking them, but won't because I am getting more work done with them sleeping.

4:30 Husband home.  He will comment about how nice the house looks and how gorgeous I am in my wrinkly laundry day outfit and how awesome I am at preparing dinner on time, despite my writing.

See?  Very busy day.  I run a VERY tight ship.


What say YOU?  Will you read The Blog?  Are you so over it because I've teased you with consistent posting in the past?  Will The Gilligan finally get them off the island? 

Did you understand that last reference???

Peace out, Boy Scouts.