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Personally speaking, years that end in even numbers tend to be much more exciting than years that end in odd numbers. For a few examples: on even years, I was born, graduated from high school, received my bachelor's degree, left for an epic road trip, broke my leg, applied for grad school, received my master's degree, and married my husband. So, I'm hoping that 2020 will bring some of that even-year-magic with it.
Yesterday was Christmas, and per holiday tradition, my husband and I went to celebrate at my Irish Catholic grandmother's house. Naturally, it was a pretty big crowd, all packed into the leprechaun-sized bungalow that my dad and his siblings grew up in. And with that many family members, you're bound to get a few fabulous questions thrown your way. So, without further ado, here are the best of this year's Christmas Questions.
Yesterday, I finished the last major revisions on my novel, Pieces of Pink; and honestly, I kind of feel like a super villain. Unfortunately, the part of my brain that takes care of prose has checked out, and the librarians say it's not due back until Christmas.
It's worth noting that we readers are usually pretty solitary creatures. We spend our free time curled up in nooks and crannies wearing the coziest clothes we can find, and we rarely "go out," because nothing is as exciting as the worlds we find tucked between the pages. That being said, we are human, and sometimes it's important to socialize. So if you're an avid reader, who spends too much time alone, starting a book club could be a great opportunity to make new friends and find new books!
On Sunday, I made a terrible mistake. At the time, I had no idea that it would affect me for the rest of the week, but it has. My mistake? I went to the grocery store. The result? I've had "I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" stuck in my head for three days straight. But what's even worse is that my brain created a monstrous hybrid with "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts."
It's December, Nanowrimo just ended, and it's cold enough to freeze the tits off a polar bear. (Although considering the impact of global warming on polar populations, that's not true anymore, and I should probably remove that colloquialism from my arsenal.) Anyways, it's cold enough that the geese are no longer floating on the lake, they're walking on it.
Before I begin, I think it's worth mentioning that I don't know the answer to this question. Actually, I'm not completely convinced I even know what the question really means, but it's certainly something worth thinking about.
Annelise Driscoll 