I wanted to give a quick apology for not being around the last couple weeks or so. Between the writing I've been doing and the fact that I've had to take care of both my husband and my son, things have been crazy. Finally, James is back to work after quite an event. I know it's a bit off topic since I'm trying to keep it to writing-related bits specific to sf/f, but it's a darn good story, and I can't pass up telling a darn good story. This happened a couple Sundays ago:
Early , about 2 or 3 in the morning, James was warming up the car getting ready to come home from Slim & Jumbo's, which is a bar in Garrettsville (James went out to play pool with his pals). He was standing about ten feet away from the car. His buddies had gone in to take a leak before they left. I guess this chick asked him a question; he turned around for a second and he heard the car rev and someone was trying to steal the car. So James runs after the car, jumps on the hood of it--he thinks he wrenched his leg around because he said his feet weren't quite completely on the car at first (from what I can understand; he was running on adrenaline from the sound of it). He starts shouting at this woman, "Get out of the fucking car! Get out of the fucking car!" And I guess she asks him, "Are you gonna hit me? I'm not getting out of the car if you're going to hit me." FYI: James is HUGE. 6'4" and has a sort of thick body build. His job is quite physical. He thinks they got to a stop light but isn't sure. All he knows is she stops the car. He opens the door, and she tries to slam it shut, but he wrenches it open and she asks again, "Are you going to hit me?" And James just says, "Get out of my fucking car." And she walked away somewhat quickly but like nothing happened. James shouts to no one in particular: "That fucking bitch just tried to steal my fucking car." And you'll love this...she told him to watch his language. James didn't even think to call the cops. He just wanted the car back. People have some nerve.
The car he was referring to was actually *my* car. And a few hours after he got home, he could barely walk. I wish he would have called the cops so we could have at least tried to get the money out of her for medical bills, not to mention I wouldn't want her to do it to someone else. One trip to the Med Center later, we found out it's a sprain and he had to be off work and off his feet for a few days until the swelling went down. So I had to wait on him hand-and-foot while also taking care of our quite active 2 1/2 year old and trying to get some writing done. I'm just now starting to get my sleep in order and getting caught up on things.