There were a couple of problems with the plan as far as I was concerned. Winter wear wasn’t all that enticing at the moment and I had all of the jackets I needed. (Unless the coat I stained yesterday refuses to become pretty again. Which might very well happen because the blotch on its sleeve has a grape-y look to it.)
Even if this touch of purple were to become a permanent part of my wardrobe, I felt I could live with it for now. So I told G.W. to go on without me, I wanted to stay at the computer and try to get some words in. Although it’s early in the game, I told her that the Fourth Brother was moving more quickly than our last two story sequels and I had a hope that we’d get the story out sooner rather than later.
Since G.W. knows better than anyone how slowly Glynn and I write, she acted more than a little doubtful about our sudden burst of speed. When she scoffed, I told her that, yes, the Old Me was worthy of such disdain. The New Me was doing much better recently; in fact, the New Me was one terrific writer. If G.W. cared to argue the point, I had a recently-received email to share with her.
The person who wrote didn’t actually use the word, “terrific”, mind you. What he said was, You are the most awesome writer ever. Since there are a number of candidates for that title – and most of the surveys have omitted my name from the questionnaire -- I was more than a little flattered to hear this. I stopped reading the email just to savor the moment. If that had been all that was said, I’d have floated on a cloud for a week. Then the fellow added, I have not yet read your books, but….
I burst out laughing. I showed the email to Glynn and he started laughing, too. As it turns out, this particular correspondent loved the idea of a 19th century mail-order bride getting mistakenly hitched to seven men. But as much as he liked the idea, he hadn’t yet gone so far as to buy one of our stories.
G.W. laughed, too. Then she told me that we need to go to Target because Popsugar had tested a bunch of the company’s milk chocolate bunnies and proclaimed a winner. Their article was called, We Tried 10 Chocolate Easter Bunnies So You Don’t Have To, and I have to admire their courage ‘cause eating chocolate bunnies is such a struggle for most people.
The “near-universally reviled” selection was the Palmer Hollow Milk Chocolate Bunny. The winner was the Lindt Hollow Milk Chocolate Bunny, considered “ideal” by some testers and topping even Godiva’s offering. My friend insisted we rush off and get a supply before a Popsugar-driven crowd beat us to it. Also, she wanted to know if I’d split a popcorn with her.
By then, I was ready for a break. The popcorn was good. I suspect the bunnies will be better.
And, just so you don’t have to, Glynn has even volunteered to test the Lindt Hollow DARK Chocolate Bunny and share his results here later. (Hint: I promise you, he’ll like it. Last year, I tell you without pride, Glynn ate and thoroughly enjoyed the Palmer Hollow Milk Chocolate Bunny. The very candy that Popsugar said “tastes like Scotch tape”.)