Kids and Poptarts. Oh, and I finished a book

Kids love Poptarts. Mine do at least, and I'm pretty sure their tastes are normal for kids around the US. That mix of sugar and fat does things to their taste buds - and blood sugar levels - that make a mother cry.
I don't think Samantha had ever had a poptart before. I started shopping healthy healthier about the time she was born. There was a time Montgomery would go thru a box of poptarts in a day, if I let him (breakfast/ lunch/afterschool snack / after dinner snack). Not healthy! So, I quit buying them. Then this week Winn Dixie had a sale and it was buy one get one free and before I knew it there were two boxes of poptarts in my cart. Then in my pantry.
Which I then forgot about for a few days. Samantha found them this morning, and from her first bite was in love. "Can I have more Mommy? After I eat these two, can I have more? After I eat those, can I have more?" I've created a Poptart monster. Her wheat toast is sitting untouched on the counter.
I'm going to have to fight her for the rest of the box.

I finished Art of Desire this morning. It's just over 11,000 words. Technically, my second book finished, with the unnamed Nano project being the first. But the Nano book was so bad, I can't even give it a name. I think of it as "that mess that I wrote in one month". Yay me. There was a certain sense of accomplishment in writing a book in one month, but it disappeared when I opened the file a few weeks ago and realized just how bad it is. I don't think it will ever be salvagable. Next November, remind me that I did Nano once already - no need to do it again.

So, book finished. Short book, obviously. I took an hour to feel good about it, then that voice in my head (the one people tell you means you're crazy, but really it just means you're crazy if you ignore it) started asking "what's next". Geez inner voice, can't you just relax? It's Sunday. Day of rest and all that. Can't you give me a break?

But no, there's evidently a woman named Andara stranded in a port in the middle of nowhere. And that inner voice wants to know how the hell she's going to get out of the mess she's in.

I'll let you know in about 65,000 words.