rocket science is hard


Just a note to say that I must not blog again until I have somewhat caught up with my emails and fiction writing and life in general.

(Of course, I say this, and I am blogging. Nonetheless.)

E (husband) is going away for at least a week, which means the time I spend Investing In My Marriage (I use this phrase because it sounds like a much more justified use of time than Going To Movies Together, Hanging Out In Shared Study Pretending To Work While Cracking Jokes Instead, and Watching THE DAILY SHOW and the COLBERT REPORT Together) can be invested in my writing. If I don’t finish these STRANGER revisions very soon I will kill someone.*

*This is actually not true. I will merely stalk the house. If truly piqued and despairing, I might throw something, but only if there is no adult, toddler, or dog around to witness.


When people ask me what my husband does, I tell them that he’s building a rocket in downtown Los Angeles. (Not alone, of course. There are many brilliant people involved.)

When people ask me where he’s going next week, I tell them that he’s going to a private island in the middle of nowhere to launch a rocket that was built in downtown Los Angeles.

They don’t really know how to take that.


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