I want baseball back! After just a few days without the Sox, I'm feeling twitchy. Nothing is right in my world without the boys of summer. I miss Manny and Pap, Tek and Big Papi. Bring back Euc and Pedroia and Jacoby. Enough with the time off and the well-deserved rest. We're back in first place—granted, just by half a game, but we'll take it. How am I supposed to get anything done when the best part of my evening routine is missing? I feel aimless without Don and Jerry, the New England Sports Network announcers who are more of a two-man comedy show than a play-by-play team. The season resumes tomorrow when the Sox play the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. Whew.... Back to business as usual. Enough already with the All-Star Break. I'm glad the AL won in case the Sox make it to the World Series again this year because we'll have home field advantage. But enough already with the vacation. Back to work, boys! Your fans have missed you!
In other news, my daughter will be 13 tomorrow. Nuff said.
My comical son Jake's latest funny line: "Dad, what year did Lance Armstrong walk on the moon?" I can't make this stuff up.
Forty-four days until "Line of Scrimmage's" launch date, but who's counting?
One week until I leave for AGA's annual conference in Atlanta. The conference is a month later than usual this year, which has thrown me all off. Of course RWA starts the day our conference ends, so I who HATE to fly am jetting right from Atlanta to San Francisco. That ought to be oodles of fun.... However, despite the trial of getting to my favorite city in the world, I can't wait to meet all the great friends I've made online in the last year as well as my new agent and my editor. I'll be away from home for 10 days, which is a long time to leave the kids. I've decided to enjoy the break as well the pain and suffering Cliff Clavin will endure as he takes on the kid duties. Last year, he didn't suffer nearly enough. Someone took the girl child away for four of the seven days I was gone and with her went the person who fights best with the boy child. That is not fair. So this year I added four additional days to my annual summer trek to get even. :) When I call and ask how things are going, he will tell me he's suffering terribly. This year, he might actually mean it.
Showing posts with label 13. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 13. Show all posts
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Embracing Thirteen
Happy Friday the 13th!
It's a big day around here. Tonight, we'll host our daughter Emily's 13th birthday party, and I'm proud to say that having it on Friday the 13th was actually MY idea. This is a big step forward for someone who avoids the number 13 like the plague. I wouldn't dream, for instance, of staying on the 13th floor of a hotel and have been known to choose another flight when the original flight number added up to 13. I almost scheduled my launch party for "Line of Scrimmage" on Sept. 13, but I dodged that bullet by moving it to the 12th. Hey, I'm Irish, what can I say?
But this year, as I face down my 13th annual meeting with AGA and as my oldest child turns 13, there's no avoiding the dreaded number. So, I figured, if I can't beat 'em, I'll join 'em. Pray for me around 7 p.m. eastern time tonight when 35 of Emily's closest friends, including—for the first time—BOYS, will invade my house.
Despite all this zen-like acceptance of the dreaded number, disturbing signs have been appearing that I might be tempting fate with this new philosophy. I went downstairs to my office today and leaning against the house right outside my window was a ladder that Cliff Claven left there last night. As if I don't have ENOUGH to worry about today! I'm spending my work day under a freaking ladder! On top of that, my "good luck" bamboo that a friend gave me when we were leaving Jacksonville almost six years ago picked THIS week to kick the bucket. If I really wanted to show you how truly crazy I am, I'd give you the mental list of things I've decided could go wrong at the Friday the 13th birthday party. Suffice to say, a call to the loony bin might be in order.
Another event happening tonight is graduation at our local high school, located conveniently three doors up the hill from our house. Imagine graduating from high school on Friday the 13th—as if life's not tough enough! Every year I watch the tent go up at the high school and calculate how many more years until Emily graduates. Five years from tonight, she'll walk the stage as part of, you guessed it, the Class of 2013.
Let's hear it for THIRTEEN!
It's a big day around here. Tonight, we'll host our daughter Emily's 13th birthday party, and I'm proud to say that having it on Friday the 13th was actually MY idea. This is a big step forward for someone who avoids the number 13 like the plague. I wouldn't dream, for instance, of staying on the 13th floor of a hotel and have been known to choose another flight when the original flight number added up to 13. I almost scheduled my launch party for "Line of Scrimmage" on Sept. 13, but I dodged that bullet by moving it to the 12th. Hey, I'm Irish, what can I say?
But this year, as I face down my 13th annual meeting with AGA and as my oldest child turns 13, there's no avoiding the dreaded number. So, I figured, if I can't beat 'em, I'll join 'em. Pray for me around 7 p.m. eastern time tonight when 35 of Emily's closest friends, including—for the first time—BOYS, will invade my house.
Despite all this zen-like acceptance of the dreaded number, disturbing signs have been appearing that I might be tempting fate with this new philosophy. I went downstairs to my office today and leaning against the house right outside my window was a ladder that Cliff Claven left there last night. As if I don't have ENOUGH to worry about today! I'm spending my work day under a freaking ladder! On top of that, my "good luck" bamboo that a friend gave me when we were leaving Jacksonville almost six years ago picked THIS week to kick the bucket. If I really wanted to show you how truly crazy I am, I'd give you the mental list of things I've decided could go wrong at the Friday the 13th birthday party. Suffice to say, a call to the loony bin might be in order.
Another event happening tonight is graduation at our local high school, located conveniently three doors up the hill from our house. Imagine graduating from high school on Friday the 13th—as if life's not tough enough! Every year I watch the tent go up at the high school and calculate how many more years until Emily graduates. Five years from tonight, she'll walk the stage as part of, you guessed it, the Class of 2013.
Let's hear it for THIRTEEN!
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