Chinese food has felt like a dubious choice to me ever since I started going to my local Chinese restaurant. Still, I felt as if I might be being a bit too judgmental of the establishment and the food tasted good and had never made me sick, so I dismissed the little things that might have made me stop going there .

Did it matter that the front of their restaurant sold Chinese trinkets, jade Buddha statues, calendars with rats and horses and monkeys on them, and little beads whose significance I can only guess at? Not to me. I bought a Buddha. I mean, they were just trying to supplement a business that had never had more than two tables full in the whole time I had been going there. I’m not sure why it didn’t have more patrons. The food was okay to pretty good.

Perhaps people were freaked out by the fact that it was always changing its name, and at one time had offered sushi, and then suddenly didn’t. People are finicky. Not me.

Did it matter that they overcharged my daughter and her friend for a drink one day when they went for lunch, impelling my daughter and said friend—who didn’t think they’d be able to explain it to their waitress-- to leave the money they had, minus the extra charge, and sprint out the door? Hmm, not really. They could’ve tried to explain it. Besides, they got away.

Did it matter that someone from the restaurant chased my daughter and her friend down the street after this incident? No. They needed the exercise. Nothings better for asthmatic girls than a sprint home. Besides, the restaurant cashier gave me a free calendar once.

It didn’t even matter to me that the health department closed them down temporarily and they had to open up again under another different name. The people running it seemed nice enough. And they had fast service—no matter how big the order they always had it ready in ten minutes.

Somehow the fact that I had never been made sick or had been seriously inconvenienced by the restaurant gave me a feeling of solidarity with them.

The other night I picked up my Chinese food and tucked in.

It smelled funny. I sniffed at it closely, like a dog with a turd, uncertain if it could really taste as bad as it smelled. I tasted it. It tasted kind of odd, like it had been boiled in not so clean water. Yes, you know where I’m going with this. I put ketchup on it.

I don’t feel so good.

What’s that saying? If it looks like a rancid Peking duck….

I know this makes me seem like a Scrooge, and I actually love Christmas and Christmas music, but I have to say that there are some Christmas songs that I would be happy never to hear again. In fact, I can name at least ten.

Top Ten Christmas Songs That I Can't Stand

10. The Little Drummer Boy--I know this is going to bother a lot of you, because this song has a great message, but the tempo makes me want to shoot myself in the head. Pa rum pum pum pum.

9. Dominic the Italian Christmas Donkey--do I really have to explain this choice? Hee-haw, hee-haw.

8. Barking Jingle Bells--I'm already straining not to yell at my neighbors barking like mad dogs, why would I want to have this coming out of my radio? It's not that I'm against dogs, but this song makes me feel the same way I feel when I see art done by elephants--I really don't get it.

7. Last Christmas (I gave you my heart) and the very next day I tore it out and put it on a spit, now leave me the F alone. Yeah, I really don't like this song. Oh, Wham, you had such promise. ; )

6. Santa Baby by Madonna. I can tolerate this song from anyone else, but her version makes me want to do a strip tease with cones on my boobs.

5. Oh Christmas Tree. I don't actually dislike this song, but I only know the words "Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree, how blah-blah-blah your branches. After those lyrics I'm just humming. I like a Christmas song I can actually sing with.

4. Christmas Shoes--do we really need a song that depresses the hell out of us at Christmas time? I mean, I've already got SAD, and now you want me to cry over some imaginary kid who needs shoes for his mom. I get enough of those emails.

3. I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas--Ah, yes, the old spoiled kid asking for impossible things song. That's the ol' Christmas spirit.  And, really, you're not getting anything to rhyme with hippopotamus so stop trying.

2. Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. Uh, my grandmother's dead. I miss her. This song is not fun for me. The only time I ever enjoyed this song was when my kids sung it to my mother-in-law. Her startled face was priceless. Ah, good times.

1. Happy Christmas (War is Over) by John Lennon and Yoko Ono. It's not John. It's his wife. I'd rather listen to the barking dogs.
 

 Still, if my voting place is any sign, there might be a problem with this kind of turnout. Our problems weren't bad. It was just too many cars parked on really narrow roads, roads with no sidewalks. People ended up parking on lawns. And then, someone brought in the bus. I watched it roll in and thought, "Uh, there's no way."  I was right. 

I sat in my car watching as they tried over and over again to get this bus in a position where it could turn a corner without hitting a car. It wasn't happening. The bus got stuck at an odd angle. Cars coming in from the main road couldn't go forward or back. There were just too many cars to turn and a bus as a roadblock. Finally, people left line and started to move their vehicles. Not quick enough. The people who live around there, started coming out of their houses and having angry conversations with their neighbors. I can't blame them. Cars were on their lawns and the road was blocked by a bus. When I left they were talking about calling the police.

The good news is that the line was moving really fast, so it wasn't that the voters weren't being handled. It was the vehicles. 

When I began to change my short story into a novel, I changed the name of my main character. I like the new name, and it has made a big difference in the way I perceive this character. But I expected that to happen, because that's the case with any name I pick for any character. The name I pick helps define the character in my mind. If I change the name, it's not some meaningless switch that has no impact on the rest of the story. I mean it's  not like doing a search and replace for me. Which is probably weird and not at all very writerly, but that's the truth.

I'm wondering if anyone else has this issue. If names are a lot more powerful for you and thus to your story than just a simple choice of A or B. And if it does make a difference to you, how long do you spend picking out your character names? Do you go to a website and research names? Do you "feel" when a name is the right name for a character? Have you ever gotten the name of a character first and then gotten the story idea?  

Since  I'm asking all these name questions, has the name of a character ever thrown you completely out of a story? I was told that the name I had for my character, before the new better name,  threw people out of my story. I'm not sure why, but it seems that name has some baggage with it. And no, her name didn't rhyme with any female body parts.

A few years ago, I noticed these slow brown bugs began invading my home. They're everywhere. They wait by the windows and doors for you to open them and then somehow mosey in when you're not looking. I had my window open the other day, and even though I have a screen about twelve of them managed to get into my bedroom. Ew.

So I'm running around my room, one hand over my face because they stink worse when you smoosh them, trying to find and kill them. They're slow, but they blend. My oldest son hears me on my murderous rampage, comes into my room, and says, "Mom, what are you doing?"

Well, I thought it was fairly obvious. I'm smushing bugs. Ew.

My son, who happens to have a water bottle in his hand, empties out the contents and begins trying to beat me to the punch. The punch being my shoe with red gook and stink bug smell all over it. So as I'm trying to kill the things, he's trying to rescue them by gently tapping them into his water bottle. His goal? To get the bugs and put them outside. Where, they'll promptly try to get back in.

He's working against me! Deep breath. I feel it is my duty to kill these things. They have no natural predators where we live, because someone brought them from Japan--I think. The point is they don't belong. They're everywhere and for the past three years I haven't been able to open a window at the end of Summer, without dealing with the migration. Yeah, they're quiet enough. If it weren't for their stink, you might never know they were there, but that's part of the creep factor as well. You're sitting in bed, relaxing, and the smell hits you. You look around and around and....There it is! It's crawling across your nightstand, slow as molasses, silent but deadly. Ok, not deadly, and that's my son's point. These things are not hurting anyone, so why can't I just gather them up likes eggs at an Easter Egg hunt and toss them back into nature? 

I just can't. I don't like them. They must die.

Does this make me evil? 

Back to Aikido. (Ok, I'm not officially back until Friday, but I am planning on going back.)

Two short stories to hand in for Stonecoast. (I must say I'm enjoying the hell out of one of them. It's so weird, and I want to tell you all about it, but I don't want to jinx it. it's a small tribute to my husband.)

Going to NY is Book Country on the 21st, where I'll unveil the Oceanview flier that I'm making. (And I'll see Terri-Lynne who has agreed to be one of those crazy people who hand out fliers!)

Getting two websites up and running. (I have lots of help with this, so it's more like a half-doing thing.)

Going to see Connie Willis at PFSF on Sept 12! (I've heard she's an incredible speaker. I just want to bask.)

Reading: The Traveler by John Twelve Hawkes and In the Woods by Tana French

Watching TV: Dexter. ( A student at Stonecoast, hey Bix!, told me he had a friend writing for the show, so I decided to start watching it. I'm still not sure if I care whether the main character lives or dies, but I'll let you know.)

With the kids back in school and sports, life is pretty hectic, so why am I having so much damn fun? 

 Back to work!