It’s All About Tim (Again)

Today is Tim’s birthday. I thought he’d decided to turn 31, but I just read in his LJ that he’s going with the real number, 33. Which means he could be older than me soon.

The cable was down last night ALL NIGHT, so I couldn’t be online doing the usual relentless Google searches. I used the time to make his cake. After I iced/frosted it (what part of the country are YOU from?), I wanted to do the little scroll work in icing/frosting around the edges. I had some chocolate icing/frosting left over from the last cake I baked, but not enough. Then I remembered how much he loves peanut butter. I mixed the chocolate with peanut butter and–voila!–problem solved. Then I scattered Reeses Pieces over the top.

Happy you-got-peanut-butter-in-my-chocolate birthday, Tim!

One Task Accomplished

It’s after 5:30 in the morning. I just finished going through the copy edit of the next TJB book SOMEONE LIKE YOU. This is an easy part of the process, since the manuscript doesn’t have to be read, just changes approved. The next two steps–reading it when we get the typeset and reading it when we get the advance copy–are more time-consuming.
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An Editor’s Wet (D)ream

You’d think editors would have work forever considering the abundance of errors in anything you read. However, we get no respect.

In reading copy about Tim’s and my next novel, which will be published under the name “Cochrane Lambert” (at any time over the past six months, I could have ranted about the name “Cochrane Lambert” but I’ve restrained myself), I came across this jewel:

Cochrane Lambert is the writing ream of Becky Cochrane and Timothy Lambert, authors of The Deal, and (under the name Timothy James Beck) It Had To Be You, He’s the One, and I’m Your Man.

The writing REAM? What the hell is that? AND WHY CAN NO ONE REMEMBER THAT IT IS TIMOTHY J.–J.J.J.J.dammit!!–LAMBERT?

Tim, it’s nice to be on the same ream with you. We’ve got ream spirit! Let’s win one for the ream!

Or something.

Asphalt Dreams

They are repaving the road in front of my house. The dogs are not happy with the noise. But oddly, I got six hours of solid sleep in spite of the noise. Maybe because of the noise. Other than that annoying beeping when trucks back up, it’s all been a steady hum and/or roar, and I like noise when I’m sleeping.

Except music. If music–or even the TV–is playing while I’m sleeping, it makes my dreams too freaky.

Palmetto Bugs, Revisited

Deep in one of Tim’s journal entries, Rhonda (rightfully) chastised me for letting Houstonians in THE DEAL use the term “palmetto bug.” She also wrote entertainingly of her mother’s assault on these tree roaches with flip flops, then Rhonda shocked me by saying she goes after them with a rolled up newspaper. My answer, below.
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