Manic Monday

My entire Monday routine is off today. Between the time change (which I’m hoping was responsible for my small child’s sudden, but hopefully not permanent, transformation into a feral velociraptor) and the fact that instead of having my groceries brought to me, I went to the grocery store like a commoner, everything is off.

It’s almost 11 am, I didn’t breakfast (I usually eat after dropping the child off at daycare), and I haven’t done anything work-like yet.

Except grocery-shopped. And we legit menu planned last night! I wrote down plans for a whole week, made a grocery list, bought all the things on said list, and am really excited that a good 1/3 of the plans include recipes from my #bebetterbookchallenge cookbook.

There is a section on “marine mammals” and a recipe for reindeer blood pancakes. Since The Beer Guy refuses to let me start a reindeer herd in our back yard, and I couldn’t find reindeer blood at New Seasons, we’re stuck with pork and banana curry, abelskivers (finally get to use my new abelskiver making pan!), and Icelandic meat soup. I’ll let you know how it goes.

The weekend was pleasantly busy. It was the first weekend I had the Bean since before my birthday, and we did a lot of lego-ing. He’s also turning into quite the helper. We made bread yesterday, and he helped me mix all the ingredients and shape the loaves. He also made waffles Saturday morning, and helped us do more work in our office space (the last hold out for organization). (You guys, cohabitation is amazing, but getting two adults’ worth of stuff into one house that already contained an adult is challenging.)

Here he is helping by wearing every single one of my race medals – back when I used to actually fucking run.

The best part of the whole weekend may have been Friday night, though. When we got home, Alvie Bean told me he needed to write a letter to Frank the Leprechaun. We don’t do Santa, nor the Easter Bunny, and although the Toothy Fairy hasn’t come up, that’s likely no. We also don’t do religion, and when he asked me who Jesus was, I may have explained Jesus by referring to our book on Thor (and other mythology).

So Frank the Leprechaun kinda threw me for a loop. But I went ahead and helped him with that letter.

He can’t read, but he knows all his letters, so he’d tell me what he wanted to say and I spelled every word for him.

Fun fact: the Bean writes from bottom to top.

Funner fact: when he asked me how to spell “goodies” and I spelled it for him, he said, “Oh, wonderful! I am so good at writing seven-letter words.”

It reads (from bottom-to-top):

“I didn’t know you had a chimney. Your house is a mess. Thank you for making goodies with me.”

After I snapped the picture, he added “To Frank. From Alvie.”

(Turns out Frank is a leprechaun who lives in a tiny house at Alvie’s daycare and the kids write him letters, and if they’re good listeners, Frank gives them goodies. This Santa-model of behavior modification isn’t the way I’d go, but whatever. He wrote a letter to a leprechaun. There’s only so much I can rail against.)

At least we’re not here. Yet.


So, here we are, now at 11:30 on Monday. I’ve gotten groceries, removed all trail running obstacles from my car. Done a little more office organization. Taken out the compost, recycling, and garbage. Had more coffee than usual. And written a blog post. (Also, applied for two jobs and filed my unemployment claim for the week.)

I have seven days to finish my reader-ready draft of The Waning Moon. I am on chapter four. There are twenty-three chapters and an epilogue. Send wine. And an internet outage.


PS – If you’re interested in what’s going through my head while I’m working on The Waning Moon, you can follow my Pinterest board.

PPS – The first issue of the Amy Cissell newsletter will be coming out next week! Sign up now!



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