Someday, there will be new posts

Oh, lordy, I've been so busy. AND plagued with writer's block st the same time, so that even when I have a moment to jot off a post, I just stare at the screen until I can't take it anymore and I have to go get a cookie. And as you know, once you abandon the computer to get a cookie, there's just no going back.

I am leaving at the ass crack of dawn to meet my sister in Abingdon, VA where we shall hole up in a hotel room for 2 days with beer and sewing machines and I will learn the secret of perfect triangles. And the question is, will I offer up the secret in the generous spirit of quilterly sisterhood I have been so fortunate to find among the commenters here? Or will I stay true to my evil nature and make you do tricks for it? WHO CAN SAY?

In the meantime, here is a picture of what my mother brought me on her visit this past weekend. I'm not sure if it's going to get much use beyond the kids standing on it and playing pirate captains.

Damn you, Blogger!

I knew this blog thing was gonna get me in trouble. Turns out, I can't publish my binding tutorial because it has already been published. Here. On the blog. Apparently, that's considered publishing. I'm not sure I really understand what the conflict is, since probably 30 people have actually read the thing and I'm pretty sure their circulation is several dozen or so more than that (I kid, I kid) but perhaps I'm violating my own copyright or something. But now all of you who have your own blogs can tell your friends and family that you are a published author, and when they ask, you can say, "I'm published on my BLOG. IT COUNTS."

The good news is that they still want something, whether a re-worked version of the same idea, or something else. The bad news is that they sprung this on me during the very specific time of the month WHEN I HAVE NO SENSE OF HUMOR. Seriously, you could probably plot it out on a graph and see a sharp dip every 23 days. (This was particularly evident at today's editorial meeting for my day job. These meetings last 4+ hours and really should be banned under the Geneva Conventions. Fat girls like me can't last that long without Dr. Pepper and snacks.)

So I will spend my evening attempting to pull funny ideas out of my ass, and then giving up and watching trashy TV instead. Because this is also the time of the month when I have no work ethic.

(UPDATE - I actually just think that they want completely original content, and I was careful to say in my initial letter that this had been posted on my blog before, in case they had a rule concerning such things. Mark overlooked it at the beginning, but his managing editor caught it. But it's okay, because I achieved the goal of getting them interested in my writing. No worries!)

Happy 4/20!

Today is a special holiday - have you dipped into your "stash" today?

The winner

Congratulations to Sheila in Ohio who has won the obscene quilt! I have to admit, I'm quite pleased about this, since she is going to bind it and give it to charity, which is exactly what I would have done with it if I had the fortitude to finish the job.

The answer I was looking for in response to my grammar questions was "dangling participle." The word "having" at the beginning of the sentence is a participle, an -ing verb used adjectivally. It is "dangling" because the subject it modifies (the person who put the quilt in the lead box) is not the actual subject of the sentence (the subject becomes "it" - meaning the quilt - in the second part).

Only a handful of people got that answer, and some used "hanging participle" which is also acceptable, but not nearly as funny. I also accepted any answer which managed to describe the problem without actually naming it, and most of you were pretty close. Some were tripped up by the use of the passive voice, assuming that was the error, and still others thought it was a trick question and that there was nothing wrong with the sentence (see me after class).

This was really fun and I hope to do it again sometime, but for now I'm glad my Blackberry will be taking a rest.

Are you sure? Really, really sure?

Good God, y'all. My Blackberry is going to wear out from all this activity. I was truly not expecting so much response to the quilt giveaway, and I'm beginning to wonder if you all are reading the post carefully. So, just to re-emphasize my point that this really is an ugly quilt, I give you the back:



See? Told ya.

Also, the number of entries has made it impossible for me to continue answering each one individually, but I am receiving them and I will be sure to explain the answer when I reveal the winner on Sunday. But here's a hint: IT'S NOT THE COLON.

Just sayin.'

Maybe there's something I don't suck at!

Remember that email I got from Mark Lipinski?

THEY'RE GOING TO PUBLISH IT!!!!!!!!!!! HOLY CRAP! SOMEBODY GET ME A PAPER BAG AND TURN OFF MY CAPS LOCK KEY!!!!!!

Whew. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Seriously, this is so huge for me. All I ever wanted to be when I was growing up was a writer, and I really wanted to be a humor writer and I pushed that dream aside because I convinced myself that a) I wasn't that good at it anyway and b) humor writing wasn't really a worthy pursuit. There are many, many reasons why I thought these things, reasons I won't go into at length here, but this blog has changed all that for me. Learning to quilt taught me that I don't have to be perfect at something to pursue it anyway, that I can be lousy at something and still enjoy it. Blogging about it has freed me to write, finally, in my own voice, without censoring myself and constantly worrying about what someone might think.

Every time that one of you comments or emails and tells me that I made you laugh, my heart just swells with gratitude. Knowing that I am succeeding, even a little, at the one thing I ever really wanted to do (while writing about something I never wanted to do until recently and can't do well at all) has — no exaggeration — changed my life.

So, thank you - all of you. My dear husband brought home champagne and when we pop it open this evening and I raise my glass, it will be a toast to you.

And when I pass out in a pool of my own vomit, and wake up with a nuclear hangover, I promise not to blame you. Now that's love, people. That's love.

Happy Day After Easter