Zombies, Cats, and Writing

It's a very zombie day. You know, one of those days where you have to wear your zombie shirt? Lucky for me that I have one. (thanks to my niece, Jasmine.)

Do other people have as many scraps of paper as I do? I have sticky notes, old receipts, and tiny papers all over the house with page numbers, phone numbers, random quotes, words, recipes, lists... It's unending. Do you want examples? No, of course not, but I'll give you some. These just happen to be a few that are within reach.

"Her uncle suddenly looked thin and drawn."

"Combine 9 & 10"

"Tortilla chips for our Lady G. 350'"

"Pearlescent milky glow" (no idea what that's about)

"His eyes tore at her like claws -Bill" (No that's nothing naughty. He's a fellow writer with an amazing command of the language.)

and last but not least, and this one I think my daughter wrote- "True Story True"

Ok, and for our dear Mr. Grey who thinks I'm "somewhat illusive " I'll sign this post.

~Amanda The Zombie Queen ;)

motorcycles revisited

I'm thankful that so many people I've talked to (in cyberspace and in person) are concerned about our motorcycle safety. The insurance company isn't overly worried, apparently. They gave my husband a very cheap rate, taking into account his age, marriage status, and driving record. They weren't concerned about his one motorcycle accident because it was so very long ago. I wasn't around then. Well, I was around but not around him. I was probably no older than eight. (Yes we are that far apart in age.)



The insurance company was concerned that we understood that we aren't covered by damage occurring in nuclear blasts and the like. As if the first thing we'll think of after we're nuked would be, "Quick honey, call Geico. The paint on the motorcycle has burnt off."



I went on my first ride last weekend. Holy cow it was fun! I stupidly forgot to take pictures. If it isn't raining this weekend, I'll bring out the camera and we'll do a photo shoot. According to my husband, I looked sexy, but I sure felt like a space-man in my helmet. Maybe he was just being kind. Either that or he has a thing for aliens. Actually he does. Hmm.....



OK, whatever else I had to say has fallen out of my brain. That's what comes of interruptions. It was imperative that I suddenly build a two inch tall cardboard chair. I'm sure you understand.

Motorcycles

Motorcycles have always held a certain mystique for me. They represent freedom, bravery, individuality - plus they're super sexy.

I love the old motorcycles. Having one from the 1920's or 30's would be a dream. I love the ones that look like Sergeant Murphy's in the old Richard Scary books. You know, the red one with the shoes inexplicably hanging off the back.

Many of my characters ride motorcycles. I've never ridden one unless you count the time when I was about seven and my friend's dad rode me around the corner to my house from theirs. I was petrified for the entire thirty seconds.

I've always liked the look of motorcycles, though. They make me smile when I see them on the road. There's a man who rides one to the small neighborhood library we go to. He looks exactly how a burly motorcycle riding guy should look and he sits in the library and reads. I love him for it.

So when my husband said, "What would you say to us getting a motorcycle?" I didn't need convincing. I think he just enjoyed the verbal exercise.


"It would be practical for commuting," he said.
"Sure," I said.
"It's easy to find a parking space."
"Great. Let's get one."
"They get great gas mileage."
"I know. Plus you'll look hot on it. Let's go for it."
"We can finance it."
"Whatever you think is best," I said.

So, we bought one. It's a black Honda Shadow. It's new, but it's beautiful. I don't know how we're going to manage the payments, but somehow we'll get by. I just need to convince him to hang a couple of shoes from it.