Spewage

So I leave tomorrow morning for San Francisco, the RWA National Conference 2008. Like last week, I was going to do posts in advance and set them up to post automatically. But...

1. That doesn't work on LiveJournal and MySpace

and

2. I ran out of time to make up and copy/paste six posts.

So I'm just going to spew all the stuff in my head right now (which isn't much, actually, a lot of it drained away during the course of the day) and then you guys get a break from me for a whole week.

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Number One got back from Holland yesterday. She babbled nonstop from the airport through dinner and about 15 minutes into our 2-hour drive home, then crashed hard. The most memorable comment:

"I'm so glad I'm home and I can stop being responsible for myself."

It's interesting. In fifth grade, she went with her entire class to Williamsburg for three days. She came back with a new level of maturity. I expected it to happen this time, too, but she's exactly the same. She did new things, and made tons of friends, and used a credit card, but didn't change at all. I guess that's not a bad thing.

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I'm up to season 5 of Buffy, eight episodes in. And I have to say, I'm all "Angel who?"

Riley is awesome, and I'm glad his role has gone on as long as it has. In the episode where Xander got split, Riley broke my heart at the end--actually brought tears to my eyes!--when he said how Buffy makes him feel like two people, on fire to touch her, yet at peace with contentment, and then he turned to Xander and said "But she doesn't love me."

Dagger to the heart.

And of course the beginning of the end. I like how they're going slow with it. Not like with Oz, where they shredded us.

And then the very next episode...

Let me tell you, I've loved Spike from the moment he came on screen. He's the best-written, best-acted character on the show, and he gets the funniest lines. So they have Ripley breaking my heart, and then Spike expressing his love for the Slayer. Got some heart-rolling-over-in-the-chest over that. *sigh*

I have to wait a week to watch more. :( Not that what I'll be doing instead won't be worth it...

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Some letters to the editor of Entertainment Weekly irritated me this week. I "get" the phenomenon of the Twilight series, insofar as I can see why teens love them to the level of insanity, and why so many adults enjoy them, too. I have enjoyed the books, more than a lot of things I've tried to read this year, but I found the first one very slow, and I'm completely annoyed by Bela at this point. I'm one of the rare few who prefers Jacob over Edward. They're both great, and I LOVE a two-hero situation, but I think Bela is herself when she is with Jacob, and when she's with Edward, she becomes someone different.

However. It's a story. People love it because it's a good story. Not too many of them are going to be influenced by it. And even if millions of teen girls throw themselves desperately at a boy who would be considered bad for them by their parents--if it's someone like Edward, they'll be in great shape.

Oh, and the person who said something derogatory about making them like a Harlequin romance? Uh, honey, the romance in the book is pretty much EXACTLY like a Harlequin romance. Just with more stuff going on around it, and with another guy in the mix. And that's NOT a bad thing!

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I can't think of anything else I was going to talk about, so I'll leave you with this:

Go buy Renegade!

A taste:

The rumble of the classic car, an unmistakable sound that heralded joy as well as a major pain in the ass, woke Trex at 2:53 Sunday morning. She lay there for a minute, her dream and the accompanying fog of sensuality fading as she listened to the creak and thud of two car doors opening and closing. So Jake wasn’t alone this time. Her mind flipped through possibilities—one of the children, one of the parents, even a girlfriend. After all, she hadn’t seen him in over a year.

Her condo’s bedroom was over the garage, and she’d installed a vent so she could hear anything going on down there. Jake didn’t know that.

“Why are we here?”

Trex didn’t recognize the first voice, but the one that answered was as familiar a purr as the car’s engine had been. It was accompanied by the creak of what was probably the trunk opening.

“I told you, they’ll be watching our known associates. She’s not a known associate.”

“And, again, why are we here?”

The trunk slammed. “I trust her.”

“So she knows?”

“She knows enough.”

Trex slid out of bed and grabbed her robe. Jake wouldn’t even notice her silk nightgown, but it wasn’t a proper greeting for the new guy, whoever he was.
She paused at the bedroom door when Jake spoke again.

“Look, Trex has been my best friend since we were kids.”

“I thought I was your best friend.”

The new guy was close enough to Jake to tease him, to make the claim of best friend when Jake hadn’t even known him a year ago. Trex’s curiosity—and a hint of jealousy—rose.

“Sure, yeah. But it’s different. The point is, I trust her. She has space for us, she won’t rat us out, and she lives under the radar.”

“You sure about that? You didn’t call her to tell her we were coming.”

Keys rattled, so Trex opened her bedroom door to head down the hall.

“I’m sure.”

“You said her name is what? Treks? What kind of name is that?”

Weariness flattened the humor in Jake’s voice. “You’ll have to ask her.”

Trex didn’t hear any more as she reached the end of the hall and turned into the kitchen. Outside the kitchen door came heavy, booted foot-thumps up the stairs from the garage. She removed a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured an iced tea glass full, then turned when keys rattled again and the door opened.
Jake’s haggard face came first, under severely rumpled, spiky blond hair. He was way overdue for a cut. His lips curved when he saw her. He dropped an army-green duffle on the floor, his gaze latching on to the glass in her hand.

“Bless the whores and thank you, Jesus.” He reached for the glass and gulped half of it, pulling her up against him with his free arm. Her body sighed in recognition. Trex watched him drink, his throat working, the curve of his jaw outlined above her. An image flashed into her head, skin and writhing bodies. His? He’d been the man in her dream. The one in front. She focused on the heat burning into her from Jake’s arm around her waist, a sensation she craved both when he was gone and when he was here.

A discreet cough behind them made her jump. She’d forgotten the new guy. Jake let her go, and she turned. And jolted, recognition shooting through her. She didn’t know why, because she’d never seen him before. But she did know, at a deeper, less rational level. He was the other man in her dream.

“Hi.” The very tall, very broad man standing behind them gave an uncomfortable, close-mouthed grin. “Sorry to barge in on you like this.” His dark green eyes were dull, and her heart sank. She knew that look. She looked back at Jake, who’d drained his glass, and now noticed the pallor to his skin, the slump of his entire body. Despair pulled at her, and she wasn’t sure if it was empathy for what Jake had to be feeling, a response to her ongoing failure to comfort him, or a combination of the two.

The remnants of her dream faded completely.