Elevator Eliminator

WOW. Okay, so I've been M.I.A. for a while, huh? It's been a pretty intense holiday season. My family has been going through so much lately. Some days, I've actually wondered if we didn't accidentally step into some alternate reality...but it just turns out we ran right through a big 'ole pile of BLEEP.  Life, right? Stay strong, have faith. That's what we do...well, I may add some crying...and worrying...and panicking...and all the good stuff that falls under the anxiety umbrella. Always an adventure when you combine worrywart and an emotional waterfall. 

Anyway, Book Two is underway!!! My characters are making me laugh HYSTERICALLY (yeah, I know that sounds slightly insane, but I guarantee anybody who has written anything with characters and dialogue will totally get it...I hope). I see every facial twitch, hear every elevation in their voices...they're REAL to me. I just love them so much! And, again, I illustrate my dorkdom. Sigh. 

I got to thinking about elevators the other day. No idea why. So, here's a little blip about elevators...and me: 


Confession: I like elevator music. There, I said it. There’s just one tiny catch…I hate elevators. Scare. The. Ever-loving. Snot. Out. Of. Me. No joke. Of course, this is probably because my trouble-causing dad chose a glass-enclosed elevator facing the outside of a seriously tall building to “bounce” with little me inside. Yeah. Haven’t been a fan since.

No one likes to admit they enjoy elevator music, right? I mean, it’s practically a universal rule that you make fun of people who like the stuff. *points finger at self and chuckles* The worst part (oh, there is one, believe me)? If I’m forced to ride within a death box on cables, I find my only solace is in the music…which means I start to hum (dead giveaway)…and that inevitably leads to whisper-singing or, worse yet, full-blown karaoke (just slap my forehead with a giant ‘L’ for loser because I have outed myself as an elevator-music-loving loser).

So. Yeah.  My brain is running on random today. I’ll probably regret admitting to this tomorrow.