The day had started as so many days that had gone before, threshing about in a pocket of humidity that clung to my pocket of the room. I couldn’t sleep, nor could I stay awake. The pillows weren’t right, the blankets were too warm, the blankets weren’t warm enough. I had been dreaming of Viggo Mortenson. Don’t ask me what the dream was. I no longer remember the particulars.
It was a work at home day. That meant I didn’t have to get out of my pajamas if I didn’t want to. Heck, I didn’t even need to brush my teeth, but I did, though I kept my hair unkempt. Some mornings I find it difficult to run the brush through my hair, today being one of them.
I wasn’t in a mood, those days reserved the worst kind of days, but I will admit to being in a funk. Is that the same as I mood? I don’t think it is, not quite. I got on the scale. I wished I hadn’t. And I vowed, today would be different, today would be a new start, but to start things generally requires energy and I hadn’t slept well. I succumbed to the call of the chocolate chip scones. I had three. They were small, though.
The day was long and mentally draining. I’d say I was looking forward to the weekend, but that just meant working overtime, so not really a break. Still, I plugged away at it, feeling sleepy off and on throughout the day. That is the only reason I can account for flipping on Bad Girls of Valley High, a 2005 movie starring Julie Benz. After about 20 minutes of viewing, I still had no idea what it was about.
Work was over-long, with two conference call meetings and Egg trying to put in his two cents when no one asked for it. I hope his plaintive cry could not be heard through the phone line. I had to complete my mid-year review. There is no personal benefit to it, no gain associated with it, but also no punitive measures to be taken. It is just a gauge to track performance, one I did not relish having to complete. What more could I say than I meet expectations. Anything more would be pompous bragging and anything less would be pitiful modesty.
Once completed, I logged off as quickly as I could, rolled over pulling my Penguins blanket over me and promptly fell asleep. Once again, I awoke groggy and disoriented, but no dreams of Viggo to shock me awake. I’ve often noted that if I awake from a happy dream, I can never get back to it, but if I awake from a nightmare and fall back asleep, I am right back in the dream.
Dinner was tolerable, heated up left overs that didn’t quite heat up enough. When faced with the decision of what to watch, I just couldn’t commit to an hour long episode of Supernatural, as much as I would like to. I felt restless and directionless, but I knew what I had to do. I found myself climbing the stairs, sitting down to the computer. Opening up a new word document, I began to write.
Book Description (From Amazon):
Release date: September 17, 2013 | Age Range: 8 and up
"I bought the milk," said my father. "I walked out of the corner shop, and heard a noise like this: T h u m m t h u m m. I looked up and saw a huge silver disc hovering in the air above Marshall Road."
"Hullo," I said to myself. "That's not something you see every day. And then something odd happened."
Find out just how odd things get in this hilarious story of time travel and breakfast cereal, expertly told by Newbery Medalist and bestselling author Neil Gaiman and illustrated by Skottie Young.
Fortunately the Milk is one of two Neil Gaiman books coming out this year. This book is not only a children’s book written about a grown-up, but also an apology to father’s everywhere. Having once written about a child swapping his dad for two goldfish, Neil Gaiman had shared that he felt like he put father’s in a very bad light and the fact that the book has been given as a Father’s Day gift over the years has made it worse. So he decided to make amends.
Fortunately the Milk is about what happens when a dad is allowed to go fetch the milk for the morning cereal and, if left unattended, all the wonderful mischief he can get into.
This book has everything from pirates to hot air balloon (sorry, Floaty-Ball-Person-Carrier) manned by a Stegosaurus to green mucus aliens to volcano gods and even to piranhas. Through it all, our brave parental unit keeps tight hold of the milk, but is it possible to keep the milk safe when it might just be the only thing between life and the complete destruction of the universe?
I found Fortunately the Milk to be witty, fantastical and just a little bit mad, in the best sense of the word. The illustrations are the perfect accompaniment to such a madcap adventure. This is a story that will appeal to both the young and the young at heart.
[Advance Reading Copy received at BEA courtesy of HarperCollins Publishing.]