Wordless Wednesday
By Nancy Lindquist | September 12, 2007
Help, he’s stopped sleeping in his bed and he’s on the floor now. I’d get all grumpy, but he’s autistic and he knows he needs us. That’s huge.
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Where Were You?
By Nancy Lindquist | September 11, 2007
It’s the question on everyone’s lips today. Where were you? What were you doing? When the world we knew crumbled into a poisonous pile of rubble and pain, six years ago. When people made a choice between twelve hundred degree fire and ten seconds of horror in a free fall, where were you?
Wherever it was, no one will ever forget. The morning, the moment, seared in our collective memories. Anger, pain, mourning for lives we never touched. Fear for our own safety and what may be falling out of the sky into our existence.
A war now fought in a land we do not understand against an elusive enemy, by young men and women who just want to make a difference. To protect what their parents held dear before them.
So where were you, when the world, as we knew it, changed forever?
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Bus Arguments
By Nancy Lindquist | September 10, 2007
Once again, the school is trying to make Herne ride the bus for more than an hour each way. We go through this every darn year. Special needs kids and pre-schoolers are prevented from riding the bus for more than an hour each way. It’s the law.
I hate this. I hate arguing with them. I detest dragging their own law out and being forced to advocate for my child, like this. It’s frustrating, to say the least. Every year we do this.
Last week I was asked, “Well, do you want some other child to have to ride the bus longer, cause you don’t want your child to?” No. I want there to be enough buses to follow the law. They are building a multi million dollar high school. Can’t they afford enough money for one more bus?
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Yes, but How Do You Write a Sex Scene
By Nancy Lindquist | September 7, 2007
I’m starting to get into the groove of having the kids home, now. Not having the sitter makes writing almost impossible, but whether it’s impossible or not, it’s got to be. Finances being what they are, I can’t afford the sitter.
I can still squeak out a few hundred words a day, but none of them are sex scenes. I can’t write them with the kids here. Never have been able to. It’s just too hard to be in a juicy mood with someone screaming at you that they need a bubba. 
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It’s a Good Day For Reviews!
By Nancy Lindquist | September 6, 2007
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Fallen Angel Review!
By Nancy Lindquist | September 6, 2007
Fallen Angel Reviews has given, “I Shagged the Sheriff” a wonderful review! Missy gave it five angels!!!
You can read the review here: http://www.fallenangelreviews.com/2007/August/Missy-IShaggedTheSheriff.htm
Thank you Missy and Fallen Angel Reviews!
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Edits
By Nancy Lindquist | September 6, 2007
I just went through the final edits for, “Banking on Love,” which will be coming out this fall from, Lady Aibell Press. I also sold them another story, which needs to be re-titled.
I write a good story, but I can’t title for beans. I come up with super dorky titles for my books. The best title, “I Shagged the Sheriff” was dreamed up by both my husband and my friend, Julia. Great minds think alike.
I should probably farm all my titles out, but I’m a control freak and that would about kill me.
So I bumble along on my titles and wrack my poor brain till it hurts. Which it does, a lot.
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Wordless Wednesday
By Nancy Lindquist | September 5, 2007
Prom
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Back Again
By Nancy Lindquist | September 4, 2007
Good grief on toast! I’m still in pain here and miserable as all get out. Two and a half hours of sleep last night means I’m going to be a mess today. A hot mess. Dumb back.
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OUCHIE!
By Nancy Lindquist | August 31, 2007
I didn’t *do* anything. I got up, felt fine, went into the shower, again fine, then walked across the house. The bedroom to the living room saw a slight twinge. I furrowed my brow in slight irritation.
Three steps later, I was entering my dining room. I could no longer turn my head without pain. Something I discovered by having the sheer audacity to look over at the dog.
I grabbed my coffee and turned towards the family room. That was it. I did a full Quasimodo. Bent at the neck and upper back, I clawed my way onto the couch and moaned like a dying harp seal.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
I moaned again.
“It’s your stomach.”
I have a serious condition with my bile duct. It blocks off and sends bile into my liver. It’s horrible and nasty pain. This is worse. It’s a full nine if I have the gall to actually move.
“Back.”
“Well, what did you do to your back?”
This would become a familiar phrase over the last day.
I have no clue what I did. Whatever it was, it was bad. This is not ordinary karma, this is a smack. OUCH! I won’t do it again, just make the pain go away!
I’m on muscle relaxants, but those are not doing a dang thing. As long as I don’t move my head, or lift my right arm, it hurts, but is bearable.
It’s a pulled muscle, but honestly, this thing must have been stretched to the moon, and back!
I’ve also been told it will be a few days, till I feel normal again. Some have said weeks. NOT WEEKS!!!
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