spaghetti!!! meatballs!!!!

I cooked today. First I made home made spaghetti sauce from all the stuff Cam and I got at the farmer's market. Then I made meatballs. The meatballs look a little weird because I didn't get the parsley chopped up enough and the parm cheese I got was slivers instead of being powdery. I'm going to test a meatball in a few hours after they've been in the sauce. I hope they aren't totally gross because I made like 20 of them.

> 70k

In Banff, my editor Tony recommended 70K as the word count for my book. I have been writing madly since 4 pm this afternoon, trying to finish this damn thing. I just hit 72K, and have only one original chapter to complete.

Though, I've decided to add 2 more chapters. I mean, it seems kind of stupid to have a book called my other nine lives with only 8 adventure stories.

What is that - blond math?

rejection part II, and my dad's literary criticism

So the agent who asked to read the first five pages of my other nine lives sent me this yesterday:

Thanks for sending along the opening pages of My Other Nine Lives.  Truth be told, though,  I'm afraid these pages just didn't draw me in as much as I had hoped.  I'm pressed for time these days and, what with my reservations about the project, I suspect I wouldn't be the best fit. Thanks so much for contacting me, though, and for giving me this  opportunity. It's much appreciated, and I'm sorry to be passing. I wish you the very best of luck in your search for representation.

It was a nice rejection. But now I'm thinking I'll have to restructure the prologue of my book. Again.

My dad called after I forwarded the rejection to him. It was kind of funny because he said "Basically, she's telling you that she didn't really care about you, so you have to fix those pages to make people care about you." Literary criticism from my dad. Ha ha! I pointed out to him that he never reads anything I write and he said "I read a few pages of sharkfest". So I'm sending him the full story to read. And, I think he's right.

 Oh well. So far my rejections have come from the top tier agents. And other friends of mine who are published say that it's surprising I've gotten any response. So I'm going to keep hacking away, finish my book this week, and spam more agents with my proposal.

we're not in kansas...anymore

Okay, what the fuck is going on with the airline industry?

On Friday I got up at 4 am to catch a United flight from Columbia, SC, to Dulles, and then on to Denver. I was supposed to get home at 2 in the afternoon. Thought I might go for a bike ride.

Instead, I got sucked into a shit vortex of air travel.

My flight in Columbia was delayed 4 hours for a mechanical problem (the delay was reported as being one hour). And I couldn't leave the gate because they weren't sure when the plane would be fixed. As soon as I found out about the delay I asked the gate agent to book me on a later Dulles flight. While he tried to assure me I was safe to make my connection, I insisted. And, when the delay stretched out to 4 hours and I obviously missed my connection, was glad I had done that.

But. I get to Dulles and I'm checked in on the flight, awaiting a seat assignment. I waited in line for a half hour (behind numb skulls trying to switch their middle seats and other stupidity) only to be told by the gate agent "I did not CALL you for a seat assignment, DID I?" I was like, uh, how should I know? She was like "we are in an OVERSOLD situation and the ONLY people who should be in line are those giving up their seats". Fine. I took a seat and listened to these idiots trying to get the airline to give them ridiculous things (e.g. an upgrade to first class) if they took a later flight.

I found out from the flight attendant that the plane I had missed was also canceled due to mechanical problems and 200, YES, 200 people were rebooked on the flight I was trying to get on. I didn't worry because my rebooking occurred at 730 am and theirs at 1230. Plus, I have flight status on United. I looked at the people around me and thought, sorry suckers.

But then I heard the gate agent say the flight was over booked by 45 seats. Are you god damn KIDDING ME? I went to customer service and tried to get on the next Denver flight (the one I had a seat on was at 250 PM, the next flight leaving at 430) but they refused to rebook me.

Everyone got on the plane but me. The gate agent was ignoring me. My blood was boiling. Finally they started to close the door and I was like "DUDE, where's my seat assignment?" and she says "Oh, hold on a minute". She sends another gate agent on the plane to ask someone to give up their seat for me. OF COURSE no one volunteered. And by then all the overflow passengers from the 250 flight were rebooking on the 430 and I had no chance to get on it.

I was like "I am NOT waiting in that long customer service line AGAIN. Rebook me here." The gate agent tried to put me on a 7 am flight on Saturday. I was like NO, I am going home TODAY. She finally found a flight connecting through Kansas City that left 2 hours later. I also got a $400 travel voucher because United, like every other airline, sucks.

ANNOYED. I went to the smoking lounge (thank you Dulles for not being a pussy like other airports and having a smoking lounge at every gate) where this fucking kid started playing a harmonica to try to impress some girl he met (pick up time in a fucking airport smoking "lounge"? are you fucking kidding me?). I gave him a look like I was going to break the harmonica in two and shove one side up his ass and the other side down his throat and then crush him until they met again, and made a "haaah" breathing noise in his direction. He put the harmonica away and left the smoking lounge. A guy said thank you to me in Spanish.

So I finally got to Kansas City, thinking I was home free, only to find out THAT FUCKING FLIGHT was delayed because there was no running water on the plane (what, we're flying in trailer park trailers now?). They took a vote at the gate and everyone agreed to board the plane without water. I was like dudes, it's an hour and a half flight, don't pee and you won't have to worry that you can't wash your hands.

Finally I got to Denver. It's weird, I don't normally get home sick (ever get home sick) but I was having my upper deck replaced while I was in Aiken and I wanted to see it. Also, my garage got tagged big time (thank you city of Denver for cleaning it off for me) and I was worried about that. Finally, after 167,000 miles on my car the clutch needs to be replaced and I had to take my car in for that.

My luggage made it on the 250 flight I missed so I went to customer service to find out where it was. I was stuck behind some fucknut who kept arguing about his bag being lost even though the customer service guy could do nothing to make it magically appear. That wasted 10 minutes of my life I'll never get back. Seriously, if the airline tells you your bag is on another flight, you can't get your bag. Suck it up and contemplate going commando so you don't have to worry about your dirty underwear because you don't have your bag.

When I got up there, addled from lack of sleep and airport trauma, I found out my bag was waiting by bag claim 14. I was SO happy. I said to the guy "What was my bag thinking, taking the early flight? That my toothbrush was going to drive him home? The toothbrush can't drive, bitch!" The guy started laughing hysterically so I left in case he was having a nervous breakdown.

I was so glad to get home (even though it was 1030 at night and I had started my day at the airport 16 hours earlier). Had dinner with Cam on Saturday and we were both so jet lagged (or in her case, car lagged) that neither of us could order a glass of wine using real english. Then we went to the farmer's market on Sunday morning and I bought 5 lbs of tomatoes, two of those garlic pod looking things (meta clove?) that have the real garlic inside where you have to cut it out, two onions, and a spaghetti squash. I'm making dinner for Cam and her family on Friday (spaghetti and meat balls). God help them. We can always order pizza as a back up if it sucks.