Whenever I go a long time without posting on the blog, it feels like I should have something really important to say when I get back. Something newsful. Something portentous.
But I don’t. I’ve just been hanging out, catching up on my sleep, reading about a gajillion books, and spending some time with my family.
Let’s think… what news do I have to share…
Cutie is walking now. And he can say “mam” which is kind of like “mom” but about ten thousand times cuter.
We’ve started the vast packaging that is the prelude to shipping out all the prizes for Worldbuilders this year.
There’s a *lot* of packages this year. A super lot….
And… that’s it. I’m just trying to remember what it’s like to have a normal life again, where I get up, spend time with my family, and get writing done every day.
It’s not a bad time. But it just doesn’t make for great stories. In a book, this is space of time that I would gloss over by saying something like, “It took me about a month to get my life straightened out after Worldbuilders…”
But if you’re looking for news of a smaller, more comfortable sort of the kind I usually post up under the hashtag #OotSays, here’s a little story.
* * *
Last night at bedtime, I’m reading to Oot. Instead of the two chapter books we’re reading: On the Shores of Silver Lake (With me) and Mary Poppins (With his mom) he wants a picture book, one of Richard Scarry’s.
I’ve read it before, and I don’t deal well with boredom. So:
Me: Do you know why they call it a library?
Me: Because every book has one lie hidden in it. It’s right in the name: Lie-brary.
From where she’s laying in bed, I feel Sarah suddenly become alert.
Oot: What does ‘brary’ mean?
Me: It’s called that because “Brary” was the name of the first person who ever built one.
Sarah lifts up her head and gives me a scowl. That’s my payoff right there. I only do these things when she’s around. Ever since Oot was little that’s been true. It’s no fun giving an pornographic ad-lib reading of Fox in Socks to a 5 month old if there isn’t an adult around to be horrified about it.
Oot, however, is his father’s son. Which means he has a finely-tuned bullshit detector. He gives me a bit of a narrow-eyed look.
Me: I’m just teasing you. It’s a joke. It’s called a library because “Librum” is an old word for book. Libr-ary.
Oot’s face light up, and he asks me to make up jokes for all the other pictures in the book, which I happily do.
More news and musings soon,