There is a moment of release when an author finishes the final line to a book. It's a beautiful feeling until I wake up after weeks of sleep deprivation and my brain being wrung like sponge and realize that I may have written another dud.
It's every writer's worst fear.
But today, I'm not going to think about my fears (like: holy crap, what if the characters fall flat?! or OH MY GOSH! THE STORY IS GOING TO SUCK!!!). Today, I am going to bring us all up to speed on all things Alyson, because frankly, my life is just...awesome. Ish.
So yesterday was Valentines Day. I hate the holiday and so does the hubs. However, I am nice and made him get off his lazy keester to get me something good. This year had a bit of planning involved. I know that The Man (aka. Captain AMAZING) hates the girly fru fru side of the holiday (as do I) so I let him off easy saying that I'll do something super special for him if he pulled out the stops for me. When I whispered the idea into his handsome manly ear, he got that big ol' grin on his face and agreed.
Ah, I shouldn't have. Really.
So I called my wax lady and made a special appointment (ladies, you know what I mean). The fun started on Tuesday as I laid myself out on her table. I was already high strung from editing all week and I showed up late (not a good sign because rushing the "process" isn't ideal). So, Wax Lady is nine months prego and chatting up a storm while I said really eloquent things like "uh huh" and "yeah" (what else are you supposed to say??? I was baring my bahookie to the open air!). Then, like she hadn't a care in the world, she rips that sucker off like it's nobody's biz. Holy Mamma! Usually I get a breather, but, like a said, I was late and she was in a rush. There was no pausing and I left her office much like a bull rider leaves the arena after a rough day at work.
Next came the house. My Man likes a clean house. I've had my nose so far into this book, the house is a pig sty and let me tell ya, when your hooha is stinging, you don't feel like cleaning. I bucked up and got most of it done which left some cooking I needed to do. I suck at cooking. My talent at cooking is like a drinking game of darts; hit and miss (depending on the level of inebriation). My homemade bread came out a flat, heavy brick and I won't mention the cake I burnt (all trashed and the house aired out before anyone could come home and dry heave over my efforts).
Then I caught my hair on fire.
I'm not kidding. It was the day of Valentines, the house was put back together, laundry done, the dog washed and the stage was set. I shaved, plucked and preened. In a steamy bathroom I was blow drying my hair when the dryer blew sparks out the front and back, burning my hand and catching my hair on fire. Nothing says "I love you" like the smell of burning hair and bald spots, right?
So... that was my sad contribution to my Valentine. However, while my efforts tanked, my hubby pulled off the smoothest, most romantic day ever. He sent me flowers. He knows I hate roses so he sent lilies (one of my favorites). He woke me up with a box of chocolate, not the nasty assorted kind, but my Kryptonie; chocolate covered caramels with sea salt. AND, he bought prime rib, made dinner AND did the dishes. Is he not awesome or what?!
Good thing he couldn't see my bald spot in the dark!
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