Movie night, tween style

As I type, my tween (!) Bean is downstairs hosting her BFFs for a Hunger Games movie "marathon" (there are only two of the films, but at almost 2.5 hours each, watching them both constitutes a marathon) and sleepover. I've been popping down there to check it out from time to time.

Have you ever tried to watch a movie with a room full of 12 year-old girls who've mostly seen it before? They talk. Constantly. Mia knows the movies by heart and loves them, and is quoting every line, about a half second before the line is said. Audrey doesn't like scary parts, creepy parts, or tense parts (did I mention these are thrillers set in a dystopian future?), and is watching through her fingers, asking if every scene is over yet. Olivia talks all the time under any circumstances, so she's talking, all the time. And my quiet, steady Bean is just laughing her goofy laugh and loving all of it. They are awesome.

They have also consumed about a half pound of M&Ms, each. So yeah, I get Mom of the Year.

Mr. Sandyshoes is down there with them, maybe on account of the M&Ms. I can hear him asking the girls, "wait, who just got killed?" from time to time. They are patient with him and explain everything, which makes me smile. When he asks questions while watching a movie with my brother and me, we always admonish him in exasperated unison: "JUST WATCH!" (He asks a lot of questions. Sometimes we have to pause the movie.)

Where's the Peanut? Glad you asked. She would not like this movie at all (it's not set in space, it's not a comedy and/or about sports, and nobody has superpowers -- so, three strikes). Fortunately she's pals with Audrey's younger brother Colin, so our families swapped daughters for the night and the Peanut's sleeping at their house. She and Col are going into 5th grade, so, I suppose, are running out of time for innocent Lego-and-Star-Wars-focused sleepovers. It didn't occur to either of them that there's anything odd about it, but they both know not to mention it to their friend Kyle. Kyle was over at Audrey and Colin's house one day earlier this summer when the Peanut went over. He hadn't expected to see her there, and reportedly blushed, went quiet, and couldn't finish his lunch in her presence. Yikes.

We're having a great summer... when bedtime matters not, and friends can just stay over. Hope you are enjoying yours too!

The what?

The past couple of weekends, we've had some family over to help Mr. Sandyshoes install insulation in the addition we are (that is, he is) building on our little house. They've worked hard and been generally awesome.

As they packed up to head home yesterday, I said, "thank you so much for all your help!" and Mr. Sandyshoes said "the force multiplier was tremendous!"

Such is life with a physicist.

Just lucky, I guess.

So I've been writing professionally, a little bit.

A very little bit. Nothing Mr. Sandyshoes can quit his day job over. But it's a start.

And what do people say, when they ask what I do for work, and I tell them that I write? An astonishing number say something like "hey, how do I get hooked up with a gig like that? Because I could write, too."

Am I alone in finding this to be pretty rude? Actually, the rudest thing someone said was "oh wow, that sounds sooo boring!" I don't know what that person does professionally, if anything. I'm going to assume she's a glider pilot, or a spy, or something.

Some of these people probably can write. Most of them probably can't. I don't know and don't care. I'm just a bit amused at having dipped my little toe into a profession, felt some pride at having my work pretty well-received, and now finding that all of a sudden everyone I talk to could do it just as well as I can, if only they had the time/inclination/connections.

I suspect writers hear this sort of thing a lot.

Here's what I don't say, in response:
"Well geez, how do I get hooked up with a gig like yours? Because I could sell houses/run toddler playgroups/manage an office, too."

What I do say:
"Oh, just lucky, I guess."

(Couldn't be, y'know, working at it. That's crazy talk.)