Too Many Books

In this photo: I don't have any pants on!! I had my first ultrasound yesterday. I thought they were going to squeeze some KY Jelly looking stuff on my belly and roll this video camera contraption around on me groin. Oh, no. Instead, my doctor inserted a dildo-ish device right up in my you-know! FYI. That chair contorts. I was all high up in the air, legs splayed open and feet resting in oven-mit covered stirrups. Next to me, hubs says, "We need a chair like that!" My mind immediately went to sexy time games, so I got all blushy. Anywayspice. Hi, I'm Leigh's uterus! I have a visitor. Well, there is -- in fact -- a baby inside me. Baby is 1.01 cm long and we got to see the strong heart beat. Doctor mentioned there is only ONE baby in there. Hallelujah. My due date is officially December 16, 2010.

Here's my rewrite of my WIP excerpt, originally posted on  Roni's Beta Club . Let me explain that there is a prologue which details the events of May 2005. The "present action" in chapter one takes place in February 2005. Have a gander. Let me know if you think I'm on the right track for infusing flashblack. Chapter 1      One might assume that if Laurel was going to have a near-mental-breakdown that it would have happened after David's death, after his vague and -- what could only be alledged -- suicide a la slap-in-the-face.      No.      Instead, it was three months prior (eerily, almost three months to the day) when Laurel nearly went bat-shit crazy. __      "Tell me about your childhood, Laurel," said Dr. Mian as he settled into an oversized chair. He turned to face her. She thought he had kind eyes.      "Ah, yes. Childhood trauma. Don't all our stories reall...

Morning sickness is crap. It's like being hungover on a daily basis, except I didn't do anything fun the night before. I got sick for the first time yesterday morning, after composing my post. Then, this morning right after I woke up, I had the urge to dry heave. Blech! Yesterday, when I told hubs I'd gotten all pukified, he said, "Good." I was all, "Padon?" Hubs explained he learned on the internets that morning sickness means mommy-to-be is expelling toxins, so that it is a good thing for me to be praying to the porcelain god right now. I don't know his sources -- hubs isn't really a senk-ya-the-link kinda guy. However, two evolutionary biologists from Cornell agree with him. (I'll bet they are dudes.) Telling pregnant people morning sickness is good... bravespice. Now, where the hell are my saltines?! In other news, I had a strange dream last night. In said dream, I was driving around Pennsylvania with my parents looki...

Hubs is on vacay this week. What a lucky dog. Of course, hubs being in the house all day throws a wrench in my lunch-time blogging routine. So, here I sit, at seven in the morning... I don't write as well in the morning. I've done plenty of posts about how much I am not a morning person. I'll spare you another. Plus, I have to get used to life without much sleep by December, when my little niblet gets here -- or sooner than that, since I hear it will get harder and harder to get any shut eye once the belly really swells up to some ungodly size. Well, this is going swimmingly. I think I need a random five: Those always help. 1. Watched The Lovely Bones this weekend. Adored the book, abhored the movie. Isn't that always the way? 2. When to bed at 10:00 on Saturday night. I couldn't hold my eyes open! I slept like a baby until 8:00 Sunday morning. When I woke, I parked myself on the couch to indulge in the Sunday sit-in. As much as hubs likes to remind me ...

Home alone on a Friday night, I've indulged in Moe's chicken nachos (not as good as Qdoba!) and the SATC movie. Unthinkably, I hadn't seen the entire film until tonight. In October of 2008, I watched the majority of it at my gal pal's house the morning after her bachelorette party -- didn't get to see it all because hubs came to pick me up about the time Big and Carrie were supposed to get married. Hubs had to take me to retrieve my car from some dank alley in downtown Louisville, as I'd cabbed it back to said girlfriend's place at the end of that night with the drunkest of them. In truth, my car was parked in a gated lot at my uncle-in-laws office. I'd  began that evening at a posh party for Underwired magazine, which hub's aunt and uncle also attended. While drinking free wine and eating fancy food, I met two fabulous lady writers, the wonderfully feministic Javacia Harris and the ever effervescent Maisy Fernandez Draper . I was the teensiest...

Oh, Thursday. I relish it when you roll around, you with your TMI Tradition. You allow me to open up -- to be honest, and to have an excuse to overshare. You drape me in bravery, in robes of full disclosure. (That reads like an oxymoron, doesn't it? Robes of full disclosure .) #1. I've been semi-scared to poop ever since I found out that I am with child. Mostly, this results in me holding it until I no longer have the need to grunt or squeeze. You're welcome. #2. Hubs hasn't once tried to get busy with me in the bedroom. Instead, when I (gently) push on my bladder-area and tell him it feels different -- harder -- he's like "don't push on it too much!" #3. In an diversion from the norm, hubs said the sweetest thing last night when he got home. He said, "I read online that the baby's spinal cord is developing right about now. I almost cried." (Wait. I'm back: Hubs is such a girl .) #4. I've had zero spotting. #5. I think ...

So, I've been hoarding blog awards like they are leftover Easter candy. (Let's be honest, who hoards candy? I usually eat it all in about 1.5 sittings.) So, I've been hoarding these awards like they are... high school memorabilia, or episodes of LOST on my DVR... or something. Yeah, so I got the Awesomesauce Award from a few peeps. (You know how hard it is for me to refrain from changing this to the awesomespice award, don't you?) It was bequeathed to me by Jen, a new blogger over at Unedited , who inexplicably has amassed 400 + followers in two months. What is her secretspice? I don't know... it must be in her awesomesauce! I also got the awesomesauce love from the lovely and talented sarahjayne at Writing in the Wilderness . (Update: Nicole at One Significant Moment gave it to me today, too! I just went to link her blog to give her another award... see Sunshine, below... and there I was! Spewing awesomesauce. Again.) ;) (Thanks, ladies!) I'm passing ...

I haven't done jackspice since I found out I have a bun in the oven. I mean, I haven't even opened the document where my WIP lives -- not since last Wednesday, which I now refer to as the-last-day-I-lived-in-innocent-bliss. I'm so preoccupied -- already. Is this normal? I can't stop: thinking about baby names, touching my belly, weighing myself, staring at my belly, contemplating the absurd amount of housework there is to do before a living infant can move in here, reading about foods to eat, reading about foods not to eat, generally bitching due to a (not complete) lack of nicotine and caffeine, telling random people I'm pregnant, worrying about money, worrying about having a miscarriage, worrying about the baby not being healthy and wondering if I will crumble and feel like it is my fault if the baby isn't healthy, freaking out about the thought of giving birth, feeling anxious every time I cough, like something inside me might become...

As you well know, hubs and I were in the midst of World War XVI: Vacationgate 2010, when I found out I was preggers last Thursday. Since we weren't really speaking to each other, I knew I had to tell him immediately -- so I was ready and waiting when he got home from work and stomped through our front door. "Hey, hubs. Question. Are you going to divorce me if I go to Destin with my family this summer?" "Maybe. I should !" (Hubs claims he is easy going. Sometimes I beg to differ. Obvi.) "You shouldn't divorce me." I pulled the pregnancy test from it's hiding spot under my shirt and kind of flung it at him. I didn't mean to drop it, but the lid came off and the whole shee-bang fell on the arm chair, in the midst of a pile of clothes which should have been in the hamper. "What is that?" Hubs was confused. "It's the reason you shouldn't divorce me. Duh." I found the pee-covered stick and handed it to hi...

I know that I left everyone hanging yesterday. You know, when I went to pee on that stick. (That was mean of me. Not the peeing, but the leaving hanging.) Well, I think the big reveal is best expressed in letter form. Deep breath. Here goes. dear unborn baby daughter son or daughter, I take it back. I take back everything I said about not wanting kids. I was just scaredspice, and the slightest bit selfish, and maybe I had a giant fear of commitment. But, three positive test results in the last eighteen hours seem to say that you actually are in there, getting all comfy. I guess you'll probably be here in mid-December. I never thought about having a Christmas baby. (You've really put a wrench in my whole taking-maternity-leave-during-the-NCAA-tournament plan, but that's okay. At least it's basketball season. Don't tell Daddy yet, but you are going to cheer for the Indiana Hoosiers.) Speaking of Daddy, I take back all the mean things I've ever sa...

Well, this is going to be a treat. Especially part two. Part one You may recall that I posted the other day about Vacationgate: 2010 , in which hubs and I argued about whether or not we should head to Destin with my parentals and siblingspice this summer, and that my loving mother invited me to go with them virtually for free (I'd just pay for my food) -- since the Murphys are not made of money and have made many poor financial decisions which subsequently require a more pratical use of their tax refund than a smack-in-the-middle-of-the-season trip to the beach. We're still fighting. I discovered that the condo in question has a stay three nights, get one free offer going on. The room would only cost us $640.00, which is considerably less than I thought it would be. So, I told hubs about it over an email during the work day yesterday. He did not respond, so, last night on the couch, I asked him casually what he thought about it. "I still think it will co...

My middle is sagging. For all you non-writerly types, I am not referring to my recent affinity for (nor the obvious repercussions of) Panera Bread breakfasts. No, instead (or, in addition) it's the middle of my book that is sagging. (Sadly, it's not even quite the middle. It's chapter four.) I've written subsequent chapters already, because chapter four is a cruel and an unusual beast of a chapter. Nothing very interesting is happening to my main character, Laurel, during her freshman year while she's away at college. She's acting miserably depressed and spending the majority of her time mooning over a boy who still lives in her hometown. I'm just so ready to get through this section -- things pick up when Laurel goes home and her first year of college is behind her. But, I'm frustrated. If I'm picking my way through this part of the story -- bored to tears while writing it -- then how will my readers feel when they are re...

This summer, my family is planning to go on vacation together. My mom and dad, and my sister and her husband (along with one or both of their kids) are heading to Destin, Florida in July. Everyone is renting their own condo at a beautifulspice resort. Of course, the whole gang wants Mr. and Mrs. Amber Murphy to join them. See. Here's the thing. Hubs and I would never choose to go on vacation smack dab in the middle of the summer. Everything is more crowded, and everything is more expensive. However, the trip date revolves around my sister's nursing school schedule (ends in late May) and my niece's regular school schedule (she starts kindergarden in early August.) So, the date is non-negiotable. Hubs doesn't really want to go. He would rather do our own thing for vacay, and choose where and when we travel. Basically, he doesn't want to spend the money. It's true that our lovely tax return could be spent more wisely. We could put some of that money towar...

This weekend, hubs spent $300.00 on a lawnmower. Yes, you read that right. Three.hundred.smackers. I feel it is my wifely duty to make sure he gets his money's worth out of said purchase. Just sayin'. In related news, I, Amber Leigh Tidd Murphy, do not have green thumbs. Tasks like mulching and weeding and sowing and reaping are really not in my arsenal of talents. That's why my neighbors have cutespice flower beds and I have overgrown shrubs and some out of control greenery from a failed attempt a few years ago. (I want to call it very all very organic  looking, but that would be a lie. What it is , is a hot mess.) (Though I don't dig outdoorsy gardening, I do prune the interior. Let's not get carried away.) Now, I could go all writerly here, and use some lame metaphor about weeding and pruning ones first draft, but since I haven't completed my MS, I am not allowed to do that. I sent my inner editor packing. She's currentl...

Wanna know a secret? (Don't worry, this post is so not going to be like yesterday's post. I swear it!) Confession: sometimes I have no idea what to blog about. Unless I thought you wanted to hear about my monster cramps. Then, I would have something to say about how I am kind of delighted that there is still no fetus growing inside me. But, you wouldn't want to know that. Not necessarily. I think I am about to be super exciting: I'll go lay in bed with a heating pad, the book I'm reading, and a crossoword puzzle. I will require hubs to bring me my dinner. Of course, I'd prefer to be spoon-fed large bites of his fanfrakingtastic chicken salad, but fear that this request may only result in hubs laughing at me. In other news: I think I am depressed because I watched Up In the Air last night, and even George Clooney's crows feet wasn't enough to leave me with a warm fuzzie. That movie is straight.up.sad. So, I am now going to eat chocolate cover...

Today is a sad day. Lilu , fearless host of TMI Thursdays, has decided to throw in the vomit-covered, poopy-stained towel. She will no longer post delicious humiliations of her own. And then there's me. I considered a TMI-series-finale, a swan-song of an overshare. However, I decided that  to conclude the TMI tradition on this blog would be borderline sacrilege. So here it comes -- not the last, but just one more of a laundry list of things-most-bloggers-probably wouldn't-tell-you. So, here goes. I just got home from work. Hubs has a friend over. I was trying to think of a good topic for today's humiliation, but was getting stuck until I saw this friend of his sitting in our easy chair. A few years ago, this same friend of his was sitting exactly where he is right now. I think we were all hanging out, the three of us and a few other pals, probably drinking and watching some sporting event. Hubs was in the other room when the conversation somehow turned to th...

Participating in The Beta Club yesterday was so much more fantastic than I could have imagined. The critiques I received were heartfelt, constructive, and inspiring. (The compliments made me blush a little, but also caused me to wear a giddy grin for the majority of the day.) If you did read it, thank you. Thank you! THANK YOU! (If you didn't, what the what?! Go here and read it, like I told you to yesterday.) I plan to post my rewrite here soon. (Get excitedspice!) Moving on. Since I was a little giddy yesterday, I decided to take a leap and integrate "spice" into casual conversation... in addition to my (completely addicting!) use of the word as an amplifier in my blogwriting. So, when I came back from lunch, I gave the following weather report to my work husband coworker: "It's very hot and humid outside. Also, it's windyspice!" He was all, "WTF?" So I explained spice -- how I use it writing to magnify things. "For ins...

Today, I'm getting the crit kicked out of me! Roni Griffin, a la Fiction Groupie is hosting The Beta Club, in which writers post a 750-ish-word excerpt from their WIP and get amazing critique and feedback. It's my day. Please read my excerpt and leave your feedback  here.  (FYIspice, my excerpt is the first 750-ish words from my very own Chapter One.) I said please! Now, go. What are you waiting for? Also, if you are remotely interested in things writerly, you'd better follow Roni. She. is. incrediblespice. Thank you for your cooperation. Why are you still here? You're supposed to go here.

oh, hell. it has been a monday. i can't even be bothered to use capital letters. No, that's annoying. I shall use capital letters afterall. I MIGHT EVEN USE THEM IN AN ENTIRE SENTENCE. (Insert PRIMAL SCREAM FULL OF EXPLETIVES here.) No, today wasn't that bad. Work is was just a stressfest. I had to cross out the "is" because I'm home now, so it's past tense. I shouldn't even be thinking about it anymore. So, I won't. Next topic: let's be honest. Since I'm at the end of my rapidly fraying Monday-rope, I will just tell you a few random Tidd-Murphy-bits about my day: 1. I almost rear-ended someone on my way home from work because I was thinking about my WIP. (Yay! I'm turning into a bonafide writer -- all distractedspice and dreamy acting and aloof. Abnormal.) (Opps. Are my writer-friends offended, or do you agree that we are all that way to some extent?) 2. I got really excited tonight when I stopped off at Target an...

Preface: TGIF. It has been a day. So. I'm participating in the First Page Blogfest in which writers around the blogosphere post the opening 24 lines of their WIP. (In a "real" book, this is the approximate amount of work that would appear on page 1!) This blogfest is being headed up by Kelly over at Kelly's Compositions . Please check out the other entries and leave them a comment on their work. My own WIP will be featured on Roni's Beta Club next week, and I chose an excerpt from the beginning one chapter one for critque over there, so today I'll give you the true beginning: the opening lines of my prologue. Here goes nothing. My working title is A SAD SONG IN A FLAT KEY Genre: Literary Fictionspice Prologue May 2005      Laurel sits Indian style. She faces the head of her bed and tries to focus on Cafe Terrace at Night, pretending it is priceless artwork instead of a cheap replica. She counts the tables first, and the...

Four years ago this June, I interviewed for a teller position at the bank where I work now as a member of the branch management team. (Well, it isn't exactly the same bank, since we've since merged been bought out merged with another financial institutional.) (And since we're like the step-children with a no-good biological father, [or former CEO or something] we took their name.) But that's neither here nor there. So. When I initially interviewed, I had to drive downtown to the main offices superspice early in the morning. After dressing in a matchy-matchy navy blue skirt-and-jacket-type-suit-thing, I poured myself a giagantic travel sized mug of coffee and headed downtown. A little uneasy about the parking situation, I allowed myself plenty of time. Too much time. Since I had fourty-five minutes to kill, I stopped into a Heine Brothers for some coffee that would obviously taste superior to my Folgers, lukewarm and unappealing by then. I ordered the bucket...