Streaming Consciousness: A Post-Birthday Pictorial...

...gentle readers, pray forgive the lateness of this week's post. I traveled for my birthday this past weekend (Dec. 21 was the day; no, it's not too late to buy/send me something fabulous) and got in late last night. The Kid returned from skewl while I was away, so we had a bit of catching up to do, thus, I'd no time to write this week's post till today. I present for your visual pleasure a pictorial of my birthday trip to our nation's capital, Washington D.C...

...I began my day with the local brew,
possibly my new preferred brand,
Zombie Coffee...

...I wasn't able to capture the "Happy birthday Mina!" Google wished me,
though I did snag the doodle...

...I realized I hadn't packed my Kindle power cord, so I stopped by the local bookstore and picked up a Regency romance
(though the gowns on the cover seem more Georgian than Regency, to me),
April Lady, by one of my fave authors, Georgette Heyer...

...when My Dear Friend Sara Leigh joined me, we betook ourselves to a place I've longed wanted to visit, the International Spy Museum. There, I was astonished to learn all of the truly wretched things humans are capable of doing to learn one another's secrets while keeping others from learning theirs...

 

...for dinner, we adjourned to a lovely place Sara Leigh'd introduced me to some years ago, Co Co. Sala: Chocolate Lounge and Boutique
(the image below is of Sara Leigh's dessert,
as I'm damned if I'll share even just pictures of mine)...

...the following day we headed over to The Phillips Collection (America's First Museum of Modern Art!) to check out, among other things,
Van Gogh's Repetitions...

Vincent van Gogh [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

...as I noted on Facebook recently, my age no longer equals the answer to life, the universe, and everything, alas. 42 saw me reach the high of self-publishing my debut romance novel, That Fatal Kiss, and the low of pining for my own, seemingly impossible, romance. I don't mind telling you that I both marvel at, and fear, what 43 may bring...

But as long as Goth Mom Lite's got her mascara and red lipstick,
she aims to roll with the punches as best she can...

The Booker Award!

Catherine Stine of Idea City bestowed The Booker Award on me, which was super sweet of her - thanks so much, Catherine! Please check out her blog here.

The Booker Award goes to "...those who refuse to live in the real world." (That is sooooo  me!) To receive this award, the blog must be at least 50% about books (reading or writing is OK). Along with receiving this award, you must also share your top five favorite books. (More than five is OK.) You must give this award to 5-10 other lucky book blogs you adore.

Now, I hate having to narrow down my readerly passions to just five  but, as we all know, I'm lazy. So here they be, in alpha order by author's last name:

Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen (It's a parody of things Gothic, so of course  I dig it.)

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde (Ohmigosh, it's set in an alternative reality in which crimes against literature are avenged by an arse-kicking Brit heroine who winds up leaping into the story of Jane Eyre  to take care of business! W00T!)

The Convenient Marriage by Georgette Heyer (How can I not luuurve a book featuring a heroine who stutters and a duel fought over a hat?) (Not by the heroine.) (It wasn't really over a hat, that was just the cover story.) (Ha ha, geddit? Cover story? Hat? A hat covers  your head?) (C'mon, that was at least mildly amusing, worthy of a titter, surely?) ~ tied with  ~ These Old Shades by the same author (The Duke of Avon = WOOF!)

Howliday Inn by James Howe (The 2nd book in the Bunnicula series. I go back to it to revel in the comfort of simpler days, when everybody and their Aunt Agatha didn't want a piece of me. Plus, it's HIGH-larious, and I just la-la-love Harold and Chester.)

The Stupidest Angel by Christopher Moore (Parce que j'adore le  whimsical horror, y'all!) (You may wonder at my use of French and Southern U.S.A. slang in the same sentence. You see, at college, a very learned prof found me attempting to learn some French art song or other, and gave me some pointers on my pronunciation. On the word, "parle," he suggested I drawl like I was from Georgia, and from then on, nearly every time I've spoken my pseudo-French it's been with a southern accent. A really bad one, sure, but still. A girl's gotta amuse herself somehow...)

Right, so—that business sorted, I now present The Booker Award to these groovy gals:

Annalisa Crawford - Wake up, eat, write, sleep

Aurian - boeklogboek

Jackie Felger - Bouquet of Books

Kendra - Flame Writer

Lori - Romancing the Darkside

OK, that's it for me, folks. Thanks for stopping by and y'all come back soon, now, entendez-vous? (You're totally having a go at saying, "entendez-vous" with a Southern accent yourself now, aintcha? Don't try to deny it, I know you are.)