Recently I heard from Pauline Campos at Girl Body Pride. Pauline's been doing amazing things out on the Interwebs for years now, and I was delighted to hear she put together an anthology that is now available at Smashwords called Strong Like Butterfly: An Anthology.

Enter coupon code CW24A on Smashwords for 25% off the cover price through Feb. 13.

I'm always interested in helping out a fellow anthologist. However, I'm even MORE excited about this anthology (for which I was not paid to promote) because it's filled with beautiful essays (some of which are written by my friends) and because it's all about learning to love the way you look, a concept quite close to my own heart. Here is Pauline's post about the book.

My favorite line from the anthology is by H.C. Palmquist: "For, in the words of one of my dear friends, yesterday's scars are today's armor."

Editor: Pauline Campos

Contributors: Lissa Rankin, Therese Walsh, Mercedes Yardley, Leslie Marinelli, JessiSanfillippo, Carol Cain, Jeanne V. Bowerman, Abigail Green, LeslieMarinelli, Sue O'Lear, Elan "Schmutzie" Morgan, Kim Tracy Prince,Heather Palmquist, Shoshana Rachel, and Alexandra Rosas.

And Pauline is doing fun stuff in conjunction with her book's launch. Here are her notes:

Follow along for updates on the Facebook Fan page, Twitter, Google +,and Pinterest for surprise contests and giveaways, including afree Strong Like Butterfly exclusive cuff braceletdesigned by Berkey Designs, similar to the Girl Body Pride bracelet, which benefits theNational Eating Disorder Association with each sale.
 
Buy the ebookand contact me via email at girlbodypride@gmail.comwith your name and site URL. As a thank you for supporting the site's goal helpwomen learn to see themselves as beautiful in their own right, and mostimportantly, love themselves as they are, your name and URL will be posted onthe Supporters of GBP tab on www.girlbodypride.com!

I am giving away a copy of Strong Like Butterfly and as well as a signed copy of contributor Mercedes Yardley's BeautifulSorrows or WinterWonders (your choice)! To register, just leave a comment. You may enter as many times as you want. I'll close the comments and select a winner at 5 pm on Friday, February 1.

But this is how Kizzy gets punched in the face.

The little black cat started using his front paw again after twenty-four hours of solitary confinement in a room with low spaces.

He shot out the door the minute I opened it yesterday and now spends his moments torpedoing around the house, insane. We discovered he may be even younger than we thought, according to his growth plates.

That explains a lot.

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Last night while we drove home from gymnastics, the fog was werewolf thick, and I could barely make out the headlights coming toward me.

This morning we woke up to deceptively warm air that spoke more of March than of January.

So I opened the window for the little black cat, and I saw his whole world change in an instant. Face pressed to the screen, whiskers blowing a bit in the breeze.

He didn't move for ten minutes.

I think this means thank you.

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Last night, I discovered  THE OBVIOUS GAME is now on Amazon, though it isn't coming up normally in searches yet, which I hope is just because it's still in pre-order stage. This morning, Tracie Nall put up this guest post by me on the writing process, using Kindle for revision, StoryMill software and butts in chairs. Thank you, Tracie!

Today my interview with my publisher is up on their website, InkSpell Publishing.

My favorite part of the interview is the reveal of THE OBVIOUS GAME playlist. The chapter titles are actually all album titles from the late eighties and early nineties for no reason other than it's my book and I wanted to and the novel is set in 1990 and nobody ever either a) figured out they were album titles or b) told me that was hokey and ridiculous and I had to take it out. I haven't actually pulled this playlist together on iTunes yet, but dammit, I should do that.

The Obvious Game Playlist

Chapter 1: Pride by White Lion (1987) – When the Children Cry

Chapter 2: Appetite for Destruction by Guns N’ Roses (1987) – Welcome to the Jungle

Chapter 3: Scarecrow by John Mellencamp (1985) – Small Town

Chapter 4: True Colors by Cyndi Lauper (1986) – True Colors

Chapter 5: Can’t Hold Back by Eddie Money (1986) – Take Me Home Tonight

Chapter 6: Hysteria by Def Leppard (1987) – Hysteria

Chapter 7: Nothing’s Shocking by Jane’s Addiction (1988) – Jane Says

Chapter 8: Just Like the First Time by Freddie Jackson (1986) – Have You Ever Loved Somebody

Chapter 9: Use Your Illusion by Guns N’Roses (1991) – November Rain

Chapter 10: Bat Out of Hell by Meatloaf (1977) – Bat Out of Hell

Chapter 11: Head Games by Foreigner (1979) – Dirty White Boy

Chapter 12: Faith by George Michael (1987) – Monkey

Chapter 13: Cuts Like a Knife by Bryan Adams (1983) – Straight From the Heart

Chapter 14: Double Vision by Foreigner (1978) – Hot Blooded

Chapter 15: Disintegration by The Cure (1989) – Fascination Street

Chapter 16: Poison by Bell Biv DeVoe (1990) – Poison

Chapter 17: Achtung Baby by U2 (1991) -- Who’s Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses?

Chapter 18: Nevermind by Nirvana (1991) – Smells Like Teen Spirit

Chapter 19: Listen Without Prejudice by George Michael (1990) – Something to Save

Chapter 20: Out of Time by R.E.M. (1991) – Losing My Religion

Chapter 21: The Way It Is by Bruce Hornsby (1986) –  Mandolin Rain

Chapter 22: Infected by The The (1986) – Out of the Blue (Into the Fire)

Chapter 23: Strange Fire by Indigo Girls (1989) – Strange Fire

Chapter 24: Little Earthquakes by Tori Amos (1992) -- China

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I put a three-book giveaway on Goodreads. If you use Goodreads, go enter! And if you don't use Goodreads, consider using Goodreads, because it's such a great way to discover new authors. And friend me there so I can see what you like. I think my username is Rita Arens.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

The Obvious Game

by Rita Arens

Giveaway ends February 05, 2013.

See the giveaway detailsat Goodreads.

Enter to win

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And, I've been writing a ton on BlogHer and forgetting to tell you about it. I bet you won't spot the theme!

• Marriage and Relationships During Unemployment
• Is Your House Above Average?
• I'm Doing the 52-Week Money Challenge
• Tips for Living on One Income During Unemployment

The little angel went back to school on January 3. 

Beloved started his new job on January 7.

After three months of never being alone, I'm suddenly alone during the workday again. 

Beloved said the other day how fast that three months went -- the longest he's ever been out of work since maybe his newspaper route. I said I thought it went fast because we were both so actively trying not to focus on it at all. If I'd focused on it, I would've had a full-scale nervous breakdown. But I didn't, and I didn't. 

Isn't that amazing?

In the quiet, the anxiety pops into my head over the smallest things. This morning I took the little angel with me to take Kizzy to the vet for a limp he developed overnight. I got there before the vet opened and somehow between waiting our turn and the x-ray they took that cost $120, took two hours and turned up absolutely nothing, the anxiety expanded in my chest until suddenly I was pacing in the exam room and yelling at the little angel and so angry I could punch this vet who was wasting my valuable time and making my daughter late for school and me late for work when I could hear him helping other patients when all he had to do was look at the fucking X-ray already. 

I heard my own voice after I told the little angel to LEAVE KIZZY ALONE HE IS NOT FEELING WELL as she tried to pick him up for the 83rd time in the eighty minutes we'd been trapped in that room and tried to focus my thoughts. I thought about what I sounded like to myself, even in my head. My whole inner monologue was totally I AM AN ASSHOLE.

I told my girl I was worried about Kizzy and worried about how much work I was missing and worried about how much this was all going to cost. I got myself under control enough that when the vet started saying things like growth plates not closed and maybe have to refer him for surgery before he said or it could be a soft tissue thing, I did not yell at him. I said I'd put Kizzy in a room where he couldn't jump or mess with Buttensworth for a few days and see if his limp got better. Then I drove my daughter to school and was nice to the secretary, who looked at me strangely when I told her we'd been at the vet. 

Then I drove home and looked at the clock and started dragging things out of the playroom to make it safer for Kizzy and the pillow fell off the American Girl bed as I was carrying too much for one trip and I lost it. My reaction was completely out of line with what was happening -- my managers are angels, nobody was yelling at me, I could work late to make up for lost time, my daughter didn't miss library time like she was worried about, and it's most possible there is nothing wrong with my little black cat but a sprain or strain that some isolation would fix, no problem. It's not like he has late-stage diabetes and is going to need to be put down tomorrow like Petunia, or has acute kidney failure and can't pee anymore like Bella or has thyroid problems and chronic kidney failure like Sybil. The cat has a goopy eye and a limp, which should be a fucking walk in the park for us.

Despite of all these non-problems, I found myself there on the floor of the hall for a little while, having a good cry, letting some of the pressure that's built up while not thinking about what could happen for the last three months seep out through my ears. 

When I got done, I noticed how quiet it was. And then I went downstairs and opened my laptop and went back to work. 

The little angel has been working hard on the Hoggin Craft dynasty. I thought I'd share some pictures of the piggy banks because they are so hilarious. Because the little angel kept three old Harry & David boxes full of every piece of crap plastic she's ever received, we have lots of junk to glue to pigs now.

This is the pig for the jeweler's granddaughter. Notice the accessories. I didn't do any of this except the hot glue.

The little girl's name starts with an "E."

This is the travel pic commissioned by my parents. It's a medium-sized pig. I ended up ordering 24 of the three-inch size from Oriental Trading Company, because it's more in line with both her attention span and people's wallets (not to mention the silent partner's investment). The itsy ones are going to be themed or custom designed and $5 each. I figure she'll get a bunch done by the garage sale and make a kid killing. (Or at least sell a few to people who aren't related to us.)

The artist at work. Tiny has moved down to do security.

The little angel got a book over the holiday break on money management. I thought it was going to be a book about budgeting and saving and all that good eight-year-old stuff, but no, it was a book on MAKING money.

The little angel whipped up a business plan. She was going to sell something. She was talking margins. I remembered the failed craft sales she and the neighbor girl had on our neighborhood's garage sale weekend in the past. The times they tried to sell complete strangers used ribbon for $1. I told her if she was going to sell something, it had to be something GOOD. Something useful. Something one might want to own even if it were not made with her hands. She suggested piggy banks.

And so Hoggin Crafts was born. Here is her logo. She made it herself on the Mac, not that you could tell!

I did offer to be her silent partner. I fronted her seven piggy banks, which I bought at Hobby Lobby. She is customizing them. We were at the jewelry store where I bought my replacement wedding ring getting it ionized or whatever it is you do to make white gold match platinum again (and if you did not know you could do this, it totally rocks, and if you ever buy white gold you should get them to throw this service in every six months for free) and the jeweler started telling us about her 16-month-old granddaughter who was enamored with ... you guessed it! PIGGY BANKS. The little angel got her business card and started designing the custom piggy bank that afternoon. Here is the plan.

The pig saying "oink" is  her trademark. It goes on the stoppers on the pigs' bellies. She's about 3/4 of the way done with the pig pictured above and has taken four more orders, all from extended family. I have no intention of starting an Etsy store, but if anyone wants a custom-designed pig, let me know. The 3-inch-ish size pigs are $8. I'm happy she's developing these entrepreneurial skills now, because by the time she goes to college, a gallon of gas will cost ten whiffle-wind credits, and that will be just chaos.

Beloved lost his old job on September 28, 2012. He got an offer for a new one on December 21, 2012. He starts on Monday.

We are returning to the land of two incomes and kissing that unemployment debit card goodbye.

I am exhaling, finally. We aren't going to go over the fiscal cliff as hard as I feared when Beloved's unemployment benefits ran out in March.

Growing up, the fear I fixated on was my dad losing his job. It was probably a bigger deal than Beloved losing his job, because at the time I was fixated, my mom didn't work outside the home. Sometimes I worried about it alone at night, in my bed. I don't know if the little angel has been doing that. I don't ask her, because I don't want to plant the fear if it's not already there. She hasn't had unexplained stomachaches or trouble sleeping or showed any other signs of kid anxiety, so I've tried to be very breezy about money in front of her.

My girl knows the reason we haven't been going out to eat or buying anything but the bare necessities these past few months: because we were waiting for Daddy's new job. She knew we had enough to be safe but not enough for the bubble gum every time we went to the grocery store. She accepted the cancellation of the full-on pumpkin party in October and the homemade birthday gifts for her friends during the fall. She asked when we could have a party again, and we told her after Daddy got his new job. That was pretty much the answer to everything. We reassured her she would still have a nice Christmas, that we would get each other smaller things so she could have a nice Christmas. And she did, mostly thanks to grandparents and my sister, who pulled serious weight this holiday, and for which I thank them.

I'm trying to unclench.

My restricting anxiety has been operating on all gaskets since September, and I haven't been able to resist tracking every penny we've spent on a daily basis. My sister asks why I would do that to myself, but it's comforting to me in the way counting calories in the margins of my high school notebooks was comforting. I know that once the income streams open back up, I need to stop that. I need to go back to being careful but not obsessive. I need to look once every two weeks, not every day.

The anxiety wants to keep restricting and pay off every single credit card as soon as possible so if something like this happens again, we'll at least have credit. Thanks to Beloved's work expenses and our own years of recession backpedaling, we had more on the cards than I could let myself think about and there wasn't much room to move. I'm glad that in three months, the only thing we put on there was my flight to ALA Midwinter after a friend offered to let me stay with her if I wanted to go to learn about librarians in relation to THE OBVIOUS GAME. But we paid the minimums for the first time in our entire marriage for three months, and it made me absolutely insane to not see that amount go down more.

We will pay off the cards in a realistic timeframe. We talked about it on New Year's Eve over dinner. We've learned our lesson. But just as I went on and on about my wishes to be debt-free, my husband told me as nicely as humanly possible that my clothes are all threadbare and my once-beloved J. Jill sweater looks like "matted felt."

It's true. Even when things are good, I am not good at spending money on clothes, and eventually I look down and realize the t-shirt I'm wearing is older than my daughter and is of an unknowable color. He said it really nicely: "Honey, you're prettier than you're dressing. You should buy yourself some new clothes." Of course, as with any painful truth, it was a little hard to hear, but your lover should be able to be honest with you about such things. I heard the love in what he was saying. Not "you look like a slob," but "you're only 38 and you should get some v-necks."

The answer with spending, as with eating, is somewhere between greed and starvation. I refuse to charge anything that doesn't absolutely have to be charged. I want us to be throwing piles of money at those credit cards, and we will throw the piles in as reasonable a manner as possible once we are back to normal, income-wise.

But I have to go to Target tonight, because I threw away all but three pair of underwear yesterday.

Things are going to get better now, and for my mental health, I need to stop counting things.

Do you have any Sun Chips?