I had a lovely weekend at the New Jersey Romance Writers’ Conference, but I feel awful now–tired, headachey, grouchy, etc.

So I am sparing you my grumps and promise to post later this week, when I am in a better mood (or at least funnier about it).

This weekend, I am heading to New Jersey for the New Jersey Romance Writers’ Conference. Yay! The P-I-C and I are sharing a room, and I bet many laughs will be had. I also bet that, at some point, I will be needlessly snarky. The Spouse will have the care and feeding of the Nine Year-Old; look for the attendance of Knicks games (go Nate!), Wii-playing and some grousing about how Mommy didn’t leave enough a) food b) laundry or c) anything else that is difficult to locate in five seconds.

In New Jersey, I will get to see Samhain’s Angela James, who is so cool and self-assured she intimidates me (true dat!), Abby Godwin (blog to the right) and other friends from the NYC chapter.

Still working fairly diligently on the new ms., although yesterday I hit a creative wall. Bam. Today I hope to be more inspired.

*New Jersey, Megan Frampton and Not Much Else.

Tomorrow, the Spouse the Nine Year-Old and I will be headed to the Jersey Shore for a week. Posting here will be sporadic, at best. So–to keep you occupied while I am away, how’s about you let me know what you’d like to talk about here? Or not talk about (yes, I know I am obsessive about Clive. I can cut down, honestly I can! No. I can’t. I am too far gone).

In writing news, my agent sent out That Subtle Knot and expects to get feedback in a couple of weeks, give or take a few nail-biting hours. I am more than halfway done with the super-sexy novella, and On Bold Adventure (aka Richard Sharpe Settles Down, At Last)is burning a hole in my brain, so that will be September’s project.

I have no Life News, except to report that my mom–The Queen of Flakes–actually remembered to call me on my birthday, although she did not remember precisely how old I was.  One step at a time, right?

Posts and pix tomorrow. Back now. Love my tattoo, love my family, love to be home.

The Son and I leave for Minnesota on Saturday, spending over two weeks with one of us in sailing school.

This means I must school the Spouse in how to use the appliances, make sure there’s food, that the house is relatively clean, that the Son has what he needs for the trip, that I have what I need for the trip (one clue: books!), that bills are paid, laundry is done, etc.

Plus I have been trying to write the super-sexy novella every day, so that takes time. And there’s that pesky problem of entertaining the Son so he’s not playing video games every single minute of every day.

Agh!

But once I get there, I will be more relaxed. And able to relax.

But right now? Right now is Chaotic Stress.

Want to know how exhausted I am? I am so worn out I couldn’t even find a good picture to post with this. See, I like posting pix with my words because at least you’ll have something to look at. But not today. Today you are on your own.

We moved, and this morning around 8:47am we were officially out of our previous apartment. Today I had visits from the nice Time Warner guy and the even nicer UPS man. I now have internet (see?) and put bathroom stuff away. There are boxes EVERYWHERE. I have a lot of fancy clothes. Good thing I wear a sweatshirt and jeans almost every damn day. I vow to dress up once this is all over.

Tonight we have our brand-new huge-ass plasma TV hooked up. I feel sorta embarrassed it’s so huge, but just think how hot Clive and Sean and Richard will look. Mm.

Uh . . . eventually I will be writing again. My brain hurts a little right now, so it might be awhile, but I am attending the New England Conference in a few weeks, so I better get more writerly, or it will be a waste. And I hate waste.

And can I say, just one more thing? I haven’t read a book IN A WEEK. The last time that happened I think I couldn’t read yet. Even a day after giving birth I had cracked open a James Ellroy.

Megan

*Mark Morrison’s ’90s hit. Sure, you remember it, don’t you?

Yeah, so lame. I really hate it when bloggers do this kind of post, as if to show they’re “EVER SO MUCH BUSIER THAN YOU, you PEON, and WHY aren’t you out doing fabulous, exciting things like I am?”

Because exciting things include:

drinking green tea
exercising
editing
doing bills
cleaning
packing
planning to move
working freelance job
taking care of eight year-old
taking care of forty year-old
worrying
cooking
not eating
cleaning some more
worrying a whole bunch
having a headache

So, sorry for being lame. I just can’t get my head out of the worrying and stress and all to point out that it’s beyond inane to write an online review of a stove by saying, “Our old stove broke, so we had to get a new one.” And that helps me decide which stove to buy how? NOBODY CARES ABOUT THE MINUTIAE OF YOUR LIFE. Just like no-one cares about mine. So I will be silent until I slog through it all.

I’ll be off for a few days, the MIL’s laptop went kerblooey, so I am internet-less.

I hope everyone has a restful holiday.

I hope I do, too.

I know it’s not Friday, but I’m at the Risky Regencies today, chatting about all sorts of stuff with fellow RR Amanda McCabe.

See you there!