Oh my. Usually, at this moment, I’m sitting in bed dumbfounded because it’s 3am on what I still consider Thursday (midnight never felt like a commencement, to me). Where were we? Oh yes. I was imagining where I normally type this post from— my bed, in front of Degrassi vintage, with the sound off. I’d be staring off in to space, concomitantly shocked and agog because yes, it’s ALREADY time to write and read nanofiction where does the time go blah blah blah.

But TODAY. Today, I am not doing that. Today, I am in California, in my Mother’s new home, where there is no nimble cable modem. There is no DSL. There isn’t even a local phone line hooked up yet, for me to try…(gag) DIAL-UP. So what could I do? I grimly did what I had to: I went, in search of the interweb.

Kinko’s? Closed. What kind of a Kinko’s CLOSES? Seriously! This blows, because I was quite fond of using “Kinko’s” as a synonym for “24 hours”. Beyond that tiny language tragedy, everywhere else? Um, this is the suburbs, so there IS no everywhere else to try. So get this— I’m borrowing wireless from my fave indie coffee place, because lucky for me (AND YOU) they didn’t switch it off like they usually do when they CLOSE.

I’m in a rainy parking lot, typing like a freak, the iBook’s brightness turning my face a not very divine shade of blue. Why? Because I love you and I love this weekly thing we do. When I commit, I commit. After we had moved the last few boxes to the new house, my mother was aghast when I told her during a dinner we were both to tired to eat, that I’d need to have a nocturnal adventure, in search of the net.

“But internet is coming tomorrow. Noon, I made an appointment with the phone company. Can’t it wait? Your friends will understand?”

“My FRIENDS (read: co-bloggers) will. My readers will be disappointed. Besides, I started this, so I have no excuse. Phone lines or not, the mutiny must go on.”

She nodded somberly at me and told me to try not to get lost. If you were previously unaware, I have the coolest Mother EVER. That doesn’t mean she isn’t strict— if I had said that I felt like going out for a martini, HA. If I had said that I felt like a movie, no dice. But stating that I needed…to…blog? Moms has her priorities straight, yo. ;)

And there, boys and girls, you have it. No customary Friday55 yammering. Just a story about how I will do almost anything to come through for a cause that I lurve, ‘specially when that cause is writing. My weekly dates with you have become precious to me; when the struggle takes its toll and I think of how it would be so easy to quit, to yield to the dark side…I remember “55” and suddenly, I can pick myself up and fight another day. ;)

Tomorrow (read: in a few hours, when I wake up, get coffee and it’s 5pm on the east coast) I’ll update this post with my picks for the three best 55s of last week. When I do so, I hope to read all your new, juicy examples of nanofiction, since there will be sooo many of them, thanks to the time difference (WesssSaaeeed!)

Oh yeah, almost forgot! Theme? Theme. It worked splendidly last week. How about this one, for today: doing something illicit. Forbidden. Dangerous. You know, like me, right now, since the owner of the cafe has been watching me for the last ten minutes, as she sets everything up for her day. She’s on the phone now— I’ve been made. But I did it for all of you. Was it worth it? In the words of “Big”, “AbsoFcukinLutely”.

Do me proud, mutineers. Your astonishing talent can make the fruit of my covert activities on behalf of the Mutiny taste even sweeter. Hook a soon-to-be-detainee up, would ya?