Don’t Talk To Me…I’m Not Communicating Right Now…

I actually said those words to my son yesterday–I felt bad, but I’d just finished not one but two papers for my on-line classes, and more ‘reflection’ was not on my to-do list. Hell, it wasn’t even on my ‘able-to-do’ list. And to that end, I’m going to postpone the ‘blog retrospect’ meme that I got tagged with. It’s not that I don’t want to answer the questions, it’s just that, right now, I don’t want to answer the questions. Too much introspection makes Amy a very cranky bitch, thank you very much.

Part of it is that I’m working on a really intense part of Bitter Moon right now…I’m loving this chapter so much I’m tempted to post it, but…but it’s really intense. I’m there a lot in my head, and it’s sort of a freaky place to be right now–being in my head as I ponder how I’ve matured over this last year as a writer…let’s just say, “Oy!”

I’d rather talk about Ladybug instead.

Ladybug his starting to talk–in fact, she’s starting to talk on the telephone. Yesterday, we heard the following side of her conversation:

“HIiii….uhm…ooozah…oozah ezah, whuzza…uh-huh…no. Me. Izzah. Byeeeeee….”

We thought that was really cute until we pressed ‘off’ on the phone and realized she’d pressed ‘talk’ before she had that conversation. Goddess knows, whoever she was talking to, that was probably swear words in their language.

One of her other words is “kweeta”. At first we thought that this was short for ‘Chiquita’, the dog, and we were proud. Then she started saying it to the cat, and we thought that she had confused Chiquita’s name with ‘kitty’ and we were even more proud. Then she started saying it to her brother, and we realized that it meant ‘come here’. And we laughed our asses off.

And for her final trick, Ladybug can announce ownership. “Me. Me. Me.” You know what that means? It means “Mine. Mine. Mine, give it to me, or I will emit a piercing wail that will create bleeding in your ears and confusion among small animals. Do I give a shit if it’s a chainsaw? I think not.” She can throw herself on the bed in the accompanying gesture of “I hate you all and I’m going to run off and sleep with a gangsta-rap-band roadie now just to spite you.” We are glad she has all of the appropriate family genes, but since we’ve seen this pose before with Chicken, we are unimpressed.

I’ve sent out several packages–one to a guy in Texas who’s probably going to rip my book to shreds, one to a guy in Texas who adores my books and is going to market them in July, and one to a friend who should be getting hers today. I love doing this–it makes me feel like I have something to look forward to, when they say, “Thank you, I got it!” It does make your day a little brighter yes?

0 thoughts on “Don’t Talk To Me…I’m Not Communicating Right Now…”

  1. Donna Lee says:

    Thank goodness that our children mostly grow up knowing we love them and adore them and think they are wonderful so that when we have those days (and we ALL have them) they are mitigated by the love in the bank. My girls all threaten to write their memoirs and tell the world all about me. I think I am supposed to be afraid!

  2. Bells says:

    Good work Amy – focus on the happy things. Baby talk is adorable. My nephew informed my sister today that “Aunty Bells farts,”

    Hmm…I’m not sure a)I ever farted in his presence and b)that I taught him that word. Cute huh?

    And yeah, packages in the mail are the best. They can brighten anyone’s day.

    I really must get to Borders and ask abuot ordering your books in.

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