Okay. Remember, like, MONTHS ago (sometime in July) when I thought it was a good idea to have cute little frogs as pets and then my dismay that we had to buy LIVE CRICKETS to feed to said frogs? And remember when to my absolute HORROR, the first tub of crickets I purchased ALL ESCAPED and scared the %*#! out of me for hours as they hopped out of places in my kitchen in an evil plot to give me a heart attack?
If you don’t remember, or if you’re a sucker for things evil, horrifying, and disgusting, go back here (the juicy info is in the comments section) and read about it. Anyhow, last night, for the eighth night in a row, my husband was warning me that the deep freeze in our basement was going to go on the fritz so we’d better eat all the stuff from there or move it upstairs. The following is a bit how our conversation went. What we say is in normal font. What I’m actually thinking is in purple italics.
Husband: Deanna, I’m telling you, let’s get the stuff from down there upstairs.
Deanna: Why do you keep saying that? (Is there a problem with his arms & legs that he can’t go down the stairs, load up all the Costco-sized freezie packages and then bring them up himself? And what are we going to do, anyhow? Like make the kids eat four hundred freezies each? “Okay, kids. Only two hundred more. Eat faster!”)
Husband: That noise! Remember?
Deanna [Getting up from her laptop in an attempt to look as if she is really, actually considering the whole movement-and-consumption-of -the-freezer-food idea. Even though she’s not at all.]: What’s the noise again?
Husband: That noise!!!
Deanna [Slowly making her way to the stairwell, her body moving tentatively, suspiciously, as if she knows something that she’s not willing to come to terms with]: You mean that chirping sound? How do you know it’s the freezer?
Husband [exasperated]: Well WHAT ELSE could it be?
Deanna: Oh no…..
And yes, my friends, you can guess what it was downstairs. Definitely NOT my freezer making “going to die” sounds. Definitely not any other inanimate object. DEFINITELY SOME BLOODY CRICKETS HAVING A BLOODY CRICKET PARTY UNDERNEATH MY PLANT POTS IN THE BASEMENT. Let me tell you. I went Psycho and lost my mind a bit. 
I’m not big on cricket invasions. If a guerrilla band of crickets ever invades the earth, I’m SOOOO not going to be very happy.
Juicy Writer Site: Paige Wheeler from Folio has an article on “How To Write A Kick-Ass Query“. A must read.
Laughing hysterically. Hoping my son does not like insects or reptiles or anything creepy when he gets a bit older.
& speaking of Norman Bates……did I ever tell you of the client I met (at his house) who looked exactly like Norman. I sat down on a couch (thinking he would sit across from me in the chair. Logically right?), to discover he sat down right beside me. I mean right beside me. This guy was about 40 years old and lived with his mother (at least that’s what I believed to be true). It was 11 am and I kept asking about his mother and he kept telling me “mother is sleeping”. I never met his mother. I quickly sped through that file as fast as I could. His name was not Norman but I know I accidentally called him Norman a time or two!
September 11th, 2007 at 2:26 pmOkay. You win. Your Norman is WAAY worse than my cricket party.
September 11th, 2007 at 3:01 pmD