I'm still settling in nicely to my fancy new rootin-tootin WAHM acronym. To celebrate my first week of freeeedom, we went to the Taste of Chicago this afternoon. For those not in the Chicago area, it's basically a street festival with music and tons of food. The bonus was that it wasn't as warm as previous years--when hairy, fat men wearing tank tops would sweat all over you while you waited in line for a rainbow cone. The downside was that my kid wanted nothing to do with, um, ANYTHING. Although he did enjoy a pierogi at one point. Being the responsible, loving mother that I am, I simply ignored his screams and suspicious looks of child abuse from other festival-goers. Because nothing gets between me and my Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ meatballs.
Besides the obligatory fireworks-watching, I'll be working a lot this weekend. I'm giving my YA one last ass-kicking before sending it off to my agent and into to the vast world of publishing. (More like black hole of publishing.) Since I'm a full-time writer now, it's that much more important that the book freaking sparkle.
Then, I'll get to sit by the phone and wait for the 212 area code to pop up. The other night, I caught up on last season's Entourage and cracked up at the last episode--where they're waiting for a phone call re: Vince's new movie and they all freak out when they see a 212 area code on his cell phone. And someone remarked that acting is all about waiting for the phone to ring. Yeah, well, RIGHT BACK AT YA, movie-star people. Of course, it all worked out in the end for Vince & Co. And yeah, it gave me a bit of warm fuzzy inspiration. A reminder that, sometimes, everything works out just right. Puppies, unicorns, sparkly kittens and all that crap. And at least my agent doesn't yell the F word into the phone repeatedly. Or, at least I don't think she does.
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