Crabby on the 27th

Last Edit October 8, 1999

After a day in a seminar (and the second time at that), I answered a lot of e-mail at work and e-mail at home. I need to sort trip photos - somehow.
I need to call Capital Color Labs - to see about contact sheets. The index photos are small.
I'll call tomorrow. (They were too expensive.)
We are still stumbling around, jet-lagged. Missing sleep.
There are five of us at Red Lobster. A very small group.
My son is eating a lot - he is in a rare mood. Combination of convention let-down and end of the day.
Crab shells are flying.
Kathy and I are discussing Troy (Oh, yes. THAT picture.). Housecleaning. (We are both in a similar state of need-to-clean end-of-the-month).
Clean stuff.
Anything.
The cats aren't safe.
People are already cruising my website - looking for the photos.
I've ordered a film scanner (and someday may get it hooked up!).
I'm hurrying!
I've looked over Jettison - will do one more pass with the new spell check (as we have progressed in these years). And will check that Troy is the one described. I WILL NOT change the story - may put the love scene back in, however. Had it in once before.
I want to work on the cookbook.
I need my G4!
I want to work on Amelia - she is nagging me!
Requiem for Amelia is a Regency-period vengeful ghost - murder story - and another cover I want to put Troy on, preferably in a RED jacket.
Come to think of it, Pepper and I want to put him our first cookbook.
Sitting slightly bemused .... while Pepper serves him something that I am busy trying to identify. She in her Flaming Inferno Apron (copyright folks).
I want my G4!
I need the power!
I need the speed!
I need the hard drive! (Note that I like big hard drives!)
I need to one-up my kid!
The manager on duty sees the shots of Troy and me and Ryan - and me in leather....
Tch Tch.
And of course, THAT ONE. Steam Heat, I've had women go into arrest on that shot. (Good going Nina!)
I will have that pose duplicated when we do the photo shoot.
I want film.
Oh yes.
I need to write faster.
I have a call into someone for a printer [Banta?], and ad agency(?) [no], inquiry handling [pending].
Putting together a budget.
Launch the baby correctly.
Costs.
A lot.
But 25 year old dreams have a way of demanding fulfillment.
Especially when you think you can do it.
Something about opportunity must be honored.
Marc and Dan are practicing eating again. Huge heaps of crab vanish.
I have salmon and shrimp.
Decaf.
I'm good.
Relatively.
Need to be.
Getting a dimple where a suture is. Not good.
We then digress into a discussion about how women who are, shall we say, well-endowed, will float. Actually, that frontal part of their anatomy will float, while their head and feet are under water.
You may be drowning - but your chest will be safe!
This causes Kathy and to have hysterics. I am, of course, going to reduce mine (January 6th). Then I'll probably drown!
My son decides enough is enough. Girl talk annoys him.
It's all my drooling over the cover models. Dark, blond, whatever. He's jealous. But don't tell him that!
And then, of course, I mention that his Eagle Court was yesterday and how, my older child, before he left for home, hinted, with a sly grin, that , because he was moving - he would have to delay his G4 notebook. Whimper.
Guess that means my G3 notebook is safe. I can get it out of the slip drawer now.
I resist the whimper. He earns enough.
Troy has my attention and my budget.
Then my older son ran off with my Bissel rug cleaner again. Right when I wanted to use it.
My credit cards have been hiding in fear.
I think my eldest is out of luck.
I've seen my credit bill. And it doesn't even have the conference on it.
I paid the bill.
I am busted.
For the time being.
Get in line child!
Behind the book!
I knew my credit cards were tired.
The Visa had hid for three days on the trip. The MasterCard had hid at the beauty shop for two days and then, after I was home, hid in the checkbook for three more days.
Subtle hints.
I'm listening.
Really.
I have to save up for the photo shoot in November......