Too Many Books

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...

I've been feeling a little guilty lately. I think I'm sort of obsessed with my own blog. Seriously, I adore coming home for lunch in the middle of my workday. My plan is always to sit down and write. It's the perfect time to work. There are no distractions (other than the hungry rumble in my tummy) or reasons that I shouldn't be able to churn out a good amount of words before I head back to the world of checking account deposits and cash-in tickets. However, I find that when I come home for lunch, all I want to do is blog. My reader is full as a good girl's Christmas stocking, and then there's my own post -- just waiting to be written. Something alarmingly witty, for sure. Something that will generate the multiple comments I will hungrily read from my cell phone when I sneak out for a cigarette break at 4:00. So, I avoid the writing -- you know, of the fiction variety. I sit here, instead watching the text fill the blank screen of a New Po...

I must be a girl. Several things made me cry -- like actual wet tears on face -- today. I am not ashamed to admit the first thing that opened up my tear ducts (faster than chopping an onion) was American Idol. Finding out who makes it to the Top 24 (i.e. the-performance-round-which-is-all-that-really-matters) is one of the highlights of the Idol season. Tonight's episode revealed 7 of the lucky 12 guys and the lucky 12 gals who are younger than me have the chance of a lifetime. When that gal Didi found out she made it? Yup, I went all sobspice. Cause her friend died and stuff. And, she had on a cute hat. And, she sang a Kara Dioguardi song during Hollywood week. I heart her! Secondly, I cried when I noticed the state of disorder which is my checkbook. (Bankers sometimes get overdrawn, too.) Luckily, I have that credit line which spots me in fifty dollar increments. So it isn't like I got any transactional overdraft fees. (If that had happened, I'd probably s...

Isn't it unreal that a decade has passed since we got our global panties in a twist over Y2K? Another year is coming to a close, and my panties aren't in a twist about anything, unless you think the following concerns are something: considering fearing the idea of procreation credit card debt turning thirty in about fourteen months my company being bought out my job changing drastically -- except for the part about it still being in banking my dad turning sixty (it weirds me out, probably more than the idea of saying adieu to my twenties) writing 2010 on things realizing that the two-thousands thus far have been a blur (i.e. my husband and I are still arguing about whether or not we got engaged in '05 or '06.) not knowing what to call the 2010's (I'm leaning toward the twenty-teens) feeling strange about living at the turn of the century (how odd will we seem to the people who are our age a hundred years from now? I mean, don't people who live...