My kids, for some inconceivable reason, have a scheduled day off school today–which is why this week peaks in the middle more than usual. It's like a mini-weekend. For them. Wheee!

Should be fun, especially since I'm in the midst of doing some minor changes to The Bleeding Dusk (more on that below) and I've agreed (guilt-ridden mom that I am) to take my 10 year old and three of her girlfriends to see Music & Lyrics.

(I'm also an opportunist. How else can I justify going to see it again?)

Guilt-ridden, by the way, because my Music Man and I have ruined our oldest daughter's life by informing her she won't be going to the middle school she'd planned to go to next year. So she'll never see her friends again. Ever. Even the one who lives six houses up the street from us.

Anyway, I digress.

As I mentioned above, I'm working on some changes to The Bleeding Dusk after my editor's read of it. (She's fast, isn't she?)

The great news is she loves the book and thinks the ending is, in her words, "brilliant." Which I appreciate very much, especially since this book has very little resemblance to what I told her I was going to write about!

The changes she wants me to make are only to fill in the details of things that happened in the first two books so that the "new" reader fully understands what's going on in the over-arching story line.

I resisted doing that for everything in Rises the Night, because I didn't want a lot of spoilers for the person who hadn't read The Rest Falls Away–particularly the ending (although it's alluded to).

But now that we're in the third book, and it's coming out months after Rises, I think she's right in that the details have to be given–even if it does give away the main "surprises" or plots of the first two books. 

What do you think? When you come in in the middle of a series, and in the course of reading that book and it tells you the main things that happened in the first books…do you then go back and read them, or do you feel like they've been spoiled for you?

Why? No particular reason. Just 'cause.

What's your favorite Sean Bean role? Personally, I loved him in National Treasure.

But then there was Lady Chatterley, which I understand was great…and so it's now on my Netflix queue.

And then of course…Boromir.

So what's your favorite Sean Bean role?

Couldn't believe I ran across this today on the Web…for those of you ladies who have a "thang" for my charming Sebastian Vioget, here's a quiz (scroll down the page a bit) to help you figure out why you gravitate toward those James-Dean-guys.

So, let me know if you pass or fail…and, I'm not telling how Victoria Gardella Grantworth (or I!) did on it. You'll just have to wait. 

I didn't mention that we'd taken the little munchkins to an indoor water park at the end of February (that was one of the reasons I was away) for a quick get-away. But we did.

And as I watched a good sampling of America walking around in various forms of swimming attire, I began to wonder about those people who wear swimming suits that just…well, they don't look flattering.

I mean, I don't wear a bikini. Ever. Even before I had children, and definitely not now–and, yeah, it's because I know I'm not going to look like a Sports Illustrated cover model in it. So I don't do it.

But there are men with beer guts who wear Speedos, or, worse, g-string eensy-weensy-tiny unpolka-dotted briefs. (Not at the water park, but elsewhere).

And there are women who wear bikinis with large bellies and so on.

As I watched this array of people, I tried to decide whether I should admire those people who wear clothing that they obviously like, but that don't look (on them) the way those same articles of clothing look on models.

Chunky high school girls who wear the low-slung jeans and cropped tops, with belly rolls showing (I hate low-slung jeans 'cause there's no way to hide those little rolls!). Or men who squeeze themselves into those Speedos. And women who are very large and who wear tiny bikinis.

I mean, obviously, they don't care what people think. They like the clothes, the fashion, they obviously feel good wearing them (or why wear them?)…so maybe I should admire them for having the courage that I would never have.

What do you think? People crammed into unflattering clothes: bravery or an eye sore?