Technically, it's the 2nd, but I'm still on a roll, so it's the 1st in my world. We dragged ourselves out from under the covers early so we could continue our annual tradition of attending an auction. Yes, we spend the day bidding on other people's unwanted items. As if we don't have enough stuff already.
It's always fun, even when we don't buy much, just from the people-watching aspect. Characters abound, from the guy in the work-worn overalls spending BIG money on objects like a six foot bronze Indian figure, to the rodeo queen type goading her DH to bid on a four karat diamond ring. I restrained myself, but barely. The check we wrote wasn't outrageous, she said sheepishly. It's just part of our family tradition.
On another note, I never throw books in the trash. I figure there's a book for every reader, so who am I to judge? Let me tell you, Fern Michaels did herself no favors by selling her 1999 book to Zebra for a reprint. They renamed it Christmas at Tanglewood (I think, I've tried to scrub it from my memory), with a shiny Christmasy cover, and I fell for it. Not only was it horribly dated, with a few feeble sentences to try to bring it into the 21st century, but it had nothing to do with Christmas except the setting. And worst of all, it was a bad romance. Cardboard cliched characters. Just awful.
However, I learned a good lesson. I am NOT going to do any re-dos of my older books unless I am sure they're current and among my best work.
Oh, there's another auction this Saturday. . .maybe I can put off getting the Santas back in the attic. Right now they're massed on the living room sofa, planning a revolt.
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