Tag Archives: Writing Down the Bones
Three Thing Thursday
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We’re Back! Three Thing Thursday!
Last night I dreamed Ryan Reynolds installed the new granite countertop in my kitchen.
He knew how much I loved him so he surprised me by being an installer!
He was funny!
It was a great dream. Far better than the one the night before where I dreamed my daughter was swept out to sea by a giant wave and there was nothing I do to save her and I knew she was going to die because the sea was so rough. Yes, the Ryan Reynolds dream was great.
Plus–guess what?! I wasn’t even looking for him, and I found RR on Twitter! (His wife was in photos with him, but I didn’t look at her.) It was so weird, just happening upon him on Twitter. Like I was walking along in a new neighborhood and found out where my crush lived.
The Twitter thing was all about Deadpool, and I couldn’t decide to follow him. Do I? Don’t I? Do I? Don’t I?
I know how I am.
I might take a Xanax for a migraine and wake up the next day to see that I’d tweeted 8 billion messages to him like:
I know I am old but u r cute. I write books. Do you read?
Could you be keynote at WIFYR? Pay– $300. (Only 30 minutes. I heart you.)
Do you mind flabby/chubby/balding/funny/older women? Teeth okay.
At this point I am NOT following Ryan Reynolds on Twitter. But yes, I still pause the moment he is naked with Sandra Bullock in THE PROPOSAL.
And FYI–what you have just witnessed here is exactly how I write.
If you’re anything like me, then one of your favorite fantasies is becoming an award-winning author right out of the gate. Can’t you just picture it? All the highest awards, every accolade available, all of the critics universally agreeing that your debut is the greatest ever written.
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Three Thing Thursday
#1 Boy, do I have a big surprise for my students!
I can’t say more than that. I’ll let you know what happens next TH.
Plus, the person we bought this home from failed to disclose a problem with mice.
We kept them very well-fed this past winter. I found that out when we pulled out our food storage in plastic, used-to-be air-tight bags.
I keep thinking about the old Beverly Cleary book The Mouse and the Motorcycle.
It’s not helping.
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