The Story

Like rumbling storm in the distance, the voices are starting to gather force, breaking through this lethargy that has encased my brain these last few months. Yes, the story is beginning to speak to me, conversations drifting through my mind, situations flashing before me; I’m finding myself beginning to drift into day dreams full of suspense, heroes, heroines, side-kicks, love, drama, a little comedy. Yes, a little. This isn’t Operation Eden, but rather an old love titled The Devil You Know, a romantic suspense that it almost 70% finished anyway. That is, if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve started re-writing it. But it doesn’t matter, it’s calling to me anyway and I’m going to answer it. Wish me luck.

For you writers: Do you have an old story that you’ve gone back to and finished; or are thinking about going back to pick up again?

Readers: Is there a story that you began to read only to not like it, but then for some reason picked it up years later and loved it?

The winner of the copy of Smart and Sexy is Jennifer Y. Email me with your address and I'll get this out soon. Congratulations!

Oh, and just for the heck of it, here's a very, very raw excerpt from the prologue. Travis Montgomery has come across a car on fire, a car that belongs to his partner Everett Rush, a man that may be a traitor. And it's real raw here - unedited.

As flames began to lick at his face Travis reached for his hat to beat them back down. The man moaned as screams erupted from the back seat. Travis, torn between the two men, tossed the hat aside, and concentrated his efforts on the deadweight at his fingertips. The black smoke blocked his view of the man’s face, but Travis could see spots of orange and yellow peeking out from behind the thick clouds. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, spasms of coughing causing him to loosen his hold and back out of the car for a few cleansing breaths. Tears ran down his face from smoke stung eyes as he darted back into the front seat. With adrenaline pumping, he managed to pull the unconscious form half way across the car, and then had to back off anew as flames flicked across him.
“Dammit to hell” he screamed in frustration and then quickly dived back in again. This time he was able to get both hands around the burning form and, with one giant lurch, pulled the figure out of the car. Dragging his load over to the roadside, Travis rolled the man over, hands beating the fire which continued to burn the victim’s clothes. Sirens rang out from the distance as onlookers gathered. Checking the still smoldering man, Travis was relieved to feel a pulse. Standing up, he turned back towards the car and the other trapped man. Just then, the flames reached the gas tank and the vehicle rocked on its chassis. The fire had won.

Travis stood in the cold drafty alley and rang the buzzer above the intercom again.
“Hello,” came the breathless reply.
“Maddie? It’s Travis.” He pulled the jacket’s collar up around his ears.
“McNeil? What ... come on up.” A clicking sound unlocked the door and Travis stepped into the small foyer. Before him was the stairs to her loft, to his left the door to her store. I don’t want to be here. Letting out a slow breath, he climbed the stairs, pausing at her open door.
“Hey Trav, nice surprise.”
She looked beautiful standing there, her hair all tousled from sleep, the red robe tied snugly around her slim waist. He really hated what he had to do, but knew it would come easier from him.
“Mad, I’m sorry, it’s about Everett.”
Madison’s face paled and she clutched at the lapel of her robe, gathering it against her throat. “He’s been hurt, hasn’t he?” she whispered.
“He’s dead, Mad.” Travis hadn’t meant it to be so blunt, but couldn’t think of any other way to put it.
Madison stared at him blankly for a few moments and then her legs seem to give out. Travis grabbed her before she hit the floor, her body a dead weight in his arms.

Smart and Sexy

This contest ends Monday, April 2, at 9:00p.m. central time

Since we know I am fascinated by anything Shalvis, it is no surprise that I chose to replace today’s spam with a posting by none other than the author herself. Yes folks, today’s guest blogger is Jill Shalvis – everyone give a round of applause. And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t mention the lack of spam. Right?






Sometimes a story idea comes to me like a gift, all wrapped up in a nice little package with a pretty bow. And sometimes I have to pull it out of a hat without the benefit of magic, and usually without the benefit of Novocain. SMART AND SEXY was a gift book. It came to me complete with full characters and a plot that practically wrote itself. From the first scene of Bailey sneaking on board Noah’s private plane and then forcing him to fly her where she needed to go in order to save her life, I knew the truth. This book was going to be a blast to write. No pulling out fingernails to get my pages done. No bribing myself with cookies to sit in the chair and write.



Well, I still ate cookies.



But my point is that this book flew out of me. Noah, so put together on the outside. Great career, hot looks, amazing friends. And yet so tortured on the inside, because of an accident he couldn’t get out of his head.



Bailey. So screwed up on the outside. Bad guys after her. No home, no money, thanks to her thieving dead husband. And yet, so capable on the inside. Capable enough to bring a good man to his knees in the face of love. Who’d have thought it?



Anyway, I have excerpts and more on my website. Stop by and say hi at my blog, would love to have you. Hope you enjoy the book!





Thanks Jill! Okay, there's also a little something extra today: A Contest!!! I have a brand-spanking new copy of Smart and Sexy that I pre-ordered before I won the ARC, so I'm giving it away. What do you do? Just tell me who you think is smart and sexy - they can be read, fictional, etc. If you've already read the book, just say so and answer me anyway. Because the blog is late, you have until 9:00 p.m. central time on Monday, April 2.

New Toy

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Unfortunately, it's too big to put on my sidebar. Any suggestions? I loved doing this, got it from Siobhan.

Checking In

Okay, it’s time for your weekly update into Bailey’s psyche. Well, it’s here, which is about all I can say. I’m not writing because my mind isn’t into focusing at the moment. Too many things are whirling around my brain at the same time. I’m having trouble sleeping – I head to bed at a decent hour, but my body and mind aren’t in sync enough to go to sleep. I’ve tried many things to help me sleep – warm showers, music, nature sounds (which worked one night), even a half a glass of a margarita. Last night nothing worked. I have developed restless legs – a side effect of the medication that I hope passes soon. I’m already lacking in energy, and lacking in sleep doesn’t help. I have to be very careful right now since I seem to be in a spending mood, so I’m staying in a lot and avoiding on-line shopping sites. I was on Borders the other day and ended up pre-ordering Amie’s two up-coming books. *sigh* What can I say, I’m a book addict. That’s what’s going on with me – just waiting for the meds to kick in (about a month – I’ve gone a week and a half on the mood stabilizer and a week on the anti-depressant). I’m tired of waiting.

So, what’s going on in your neck of the woods?

Ode to Spring

So it’s Spring, a time when every man’s fancy turns to love and every allergist orders their new BMW. Yep, allergy season. Flowers bloom and cast their sickening pollen into the four corners of the globe, instantly sending innocent humans into raging bulges of histamine. Sort of the Incredible Hulk of the sinus world. Spring, when the winds still sweep down from the Plains, pulling with them gusts of cedar and any other mountainous, plainous, regionalous piece of gritty dirt and grain it can gather. Spring, which brings rain, which in turn feeds the humidity level and nurturing the growth of tiny armies of spore ready to pounce with merciless fury on every human being. No man, woman or child are spared this ravaging menace. Spring will get you, in one form or another, and yet, our government allows it to continue. Everything else that can make us sick is outlawed, but not Spring. I blame the Spring lobbyist; those bastions of non-allergy mutants that rejoice in the coming of Spring.

Now that we know how I feel about Spring, what's your favorite season?

Lush

I haven't done a book promotion in a while, in fact, I haven't done a book review about that same amount of time. What have I been doing? Who knows. But when I heard that Sasha White, one of my favorite erotica authors, had her first single author anthology, Lush, coming out - well, I had to say something. I love Sasha's work. I love how she weaves a story - and no one is hotter. So if you're looking for a great erotica - I'd recommend checking out Lush. There's a reason Sasha White is one of my auto-buys.

A gallery show casing erotic art is the setting for these three sensual stories. A take charge gallery owner finds the tables turned by a sexy carpenter…A relationship-shy jewelry designer meets her match in a man devoted to her pleasure…A beautiful massage therapist shows a photographer how much fun candid shots can be…
In three scorching tales, Sasha White reveals the art of pure pleasure.

"Within the pages of LUSH, you will discover three sensual tales that will have you laughing, crying and grabbing for a fan to cool off. Ms. White does an excellent job penning these short stories to read like full length novels. The characterization, imagery and intriguing plots will keep you mesmerized until you have finished the last page." -Billie Jo, reviewer for Romance Junkies

"Sasha White’s stories are molten lava all wrapped up in spun silk. Richly emotional and highly passionate, these erotic stories take the reader on a sensuous journey inside the bedroom and out. These sexually explosive novellas will undoubtedly leave you breathless and begging for more. Sasha White continues to have a spot on my keeper shelf." -Cathryn Fox, author of Pleasure Control

Please check out the erotic LUSH GALLERY on Sasha's website

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT:



Lush



by Sasha White


SEXUAL HEALING
She was late.
Damn it. She hated being late. To Caitlyn, lateness was just plain rude. People who said they were always late ‘no matter what’ were people who didn’t care about others, even as a common courtesy.

In this case, she was late for two reasons. Okay, really it was one reason. She wasn’t sure being the model for her best friend’s line of erotic body decorations was a good idea. And because she was unsure, she’d let herself get distracted by Ben, therefore making herself late. And testy.

Her energy was super high and she was strung tight. Part of it was frustration from watching Ben and not being able to take care of herself. If she’d been smart enough to carry the silly little pocket rocket she had, maybe she’d have been able to give herself a little quick TLC.

But part of her also felt like something big was about to happen. There was a small burn of anticipation running through her.

She gave herself a mental shake. Oh well, life goes on. Really, she could masturbate anytime, but these photos meant a lot to Mia and she’d already had to postpone once, she wouldn’t do it again.

Cait finished climbing the stairs to Jack Lowell’s studio loft and knocked on the door.

Big place. She wondered if there were other studios like it available in the building. One with a window facing east for the sunshine would be wonderful. She could maybe finally have her own little holistic healing center, she’d only need a tiny space for a bedroom, and the rest of the loft would be workspace.

As she was peeking around to see if there were any other doors or apartments, the one behind her opened.

“It’s about time you got here.” The voice was deep and harsh. As if it were rusty from disuse.

Caitlyn turned back to the studio loft and stared at the man there. He had short, dark blond hair that was mussed and spiked up all over, not in a style, but in a who-gives-a-damn way. He had jeans and a gray t-shirt on and looked somewhat presentable, except for the black wisps drifting through his aura.

The man was messed up. The light base told her he was intelligent. He was physically fit, but the location and movement of the darkness told her he was feeling pretty negative, even depressed.

“Jack Lowell?”

“Who else would be answering my door? Come in, already. You’re late.”

Charming too, she thought as she walked into the loft. When she was close enough to see past the photographer’s facial hair and scowl, she almost gasped at the beautiful green eyes. Surrounded by long thick eyelashes, his piercing gaze gave the impression he could see everything. And the shadows she saw flickering in them told her he had seen a lot.

Enough to cast the darkness she saw in his soul.


Jack shut the door behind the woman and wondered what the hell Teal had been thinking to send him an overweight model.

Then he heaved a mental sigh and decided it was none of his business. Teal Jamison might be a friend who was kind enough to send him some commercial work to help pay his bills, but she was also her own businesswoman, and a smart one. So he’d just take the pictures and mind his own business.

Besides, this was a one time only thing for him. He photographed objects, not people, what did he know about models?

“There’s a screen over there,” he said, and pointed to the corner of the room next to his drop cloth set up. “You can get undressed there.”

She stood in the middle of the room, gazing around for a minute before she turned to him and held out her hand. “I’m Caitlyn Ellis.”

“I know.”

Her eyes ran over him and he was suddenly aware that he hadn’t shaved for days. A shiver ran down his spine and he wondered what she saw. He’d showered; he was clean.
She had a strange expression on her face and he wondered if she was nervous about posing for him. “You’re safe to get undressed, but if you want to call a friend so you’re not alone with me, I’ll wait.” I’ll be pissed off, but I’ll wait.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m fine with you. Where do I undress?”

He pointed to the corner again and she turned and went toward it. When she was behind the screen, he listened to the sounds of her clothes coming off and fought the urge to sneak a shot of whiskey. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in the kitchen area and the craving was strong.

“Do you take a lot of nude portraits?” she asked as she came out from behind the screen.

Holy shit!

She hadn’t bothered with a robe and she walked over the center of the drop cloth completely naked and natural. Big, beautiful breasts were the first things he noticed. Then, the fact that they were both pierced with sapphire tipped studs. Shanks? Barbell’s, that’s what they were called, a barbell.

“You didn’t bring a robe?” He tried not to stare. He’d seen naked women before. Plenty of them, in fact.

But Caitlyn was beautiful. She reminded him of those old oil paintings of well-rounded renaissance women stretched out decadently on a chaise lounge. Lush and sensual, with soft creamy skin that was made for a man’s touch. And a completely shaven pussy.

He swallowed and tried not to notice his body’s reaction.

A Mother Knows

Brian invited his mother over for dinner. During the course of the meal, Brian's mother couldn't help but notice how beautiful Brian's roommate, Jennifer, was.

Brian's Mom had long been suspicious of a relationship between Brian and Jennifer, and this had only made her more curious. Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between Brian and Jennifer than met the eye. Reading his mom's thoughts, Brian volunteered, "I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you Jennifer and I are just roommates."

About a week later, Jennifer came to Brian saying, "Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the beautiful silver gravy ladle. You don't suppose she took it, do you?" Brian said, "Well, I doubt it, but I'll send her an e-mail just to be sure. So he sat down and wrote:
Dear Mom:I'm not saying that you "did" take the gravy ladle from the house, I'm not saying that you "did not" take the gravy ladle. But the fact remains that one has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love, Brian

Several days later, Brian received an email back from his mother that read:

Dear Son: I'm not saying that you "do" sleep with Jennifer, I'm not saying that you "do not" sleep with Jennifer. But the fact remains that if Jennifer is sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the gravy ladle by now.
Love, Mom

LESSON OF THE DAY - NEVER LIE TO YOUR MOTHER

Cats Rules for Hampering

If one of your humans is engaged in some close activity and the other is idle, stay with the busy one. This is called "helping", otherwise known as "hampering." Following are the rules for "hampering":

1. When supervising cooking, sit just behind the left heel of the cook. You cannot be seen and thereby stand a better chance of being stepped on and then picked up and comforted. It's even funnier when they try to avoid stepping on you and fall into a counter or table.

2. For book readers, get in close under the chin, between eyes and book, unless you can lie across the book itself.

3. For paperwork, lie on the work in the most appropriate manner so as to obscure as much of the work or at least the most important part. Pretend to doze, but every so often reach out and slap the pencil or pen. The worker may try to distract you; ignore it. Remember, the aim is to hamper work.

4. When a human is holding the newspaper in front of him/her, be sure to jump on the back of the paper.

Spamarama Ding Dong

Add that new dick this Spring. (I never even got the old one.)
Don’t waste your time, have sex immediately. (Sorry, haven’t added that new dick yet.)
He marital. (The dick? Wow.)
What’s the deal with Travelzoo? (Travelzoo? If you try to tell me that my new dick comes from a zoo, I may go postal.)
This convinced me that some of you might like to see them too. (Well yes, if I’m going to add a new dick, I’d like to pick it out myself.)
Or my roundhead. (Keep you pants on fella.)
Avoid enhancement pills. (Avoid them? Why, are they accosting people on the streets and making them swallow the pills?)
It ruled out involvement of any hostile fire. (Wow, you guys are getting serious about this erectile dysfunction thingy.)
Do you have ED? Forget about it. (Ed? Ed who? How can I forget who I don’t know?)
Not much of a man. (Obviously, that’s why I forgot him.)
Henry assumed his role in September 1995. (Henry assumed the role of Ed?)
Morning Ethiopians due. (Hey buddy, not until the evening ones are done.)
You are taking aspirin, do not drink alcoholic beverages, and stand naked. (Do not drink alcoholic beverages and stand naked; or take aspirin and stand naked, but do not drink alcoholic beverages? I have to be clear on this before Saturday night.)

Bebo's a Granny - #10

And I'm a new Gr-Aunt!

Hayden Elizabeth

Born 3/20/07

Time: 08:20 7lbs. 12 oz.

Proud Parents

Eric and Amber

A new little baby

to cuddle and love

To spoil just a little

and think the world of.

A bundle from Heaven

to simply adore

Now who in the world

could ask for more?

Siblings: J.D., Harley and Matthew

A Frill for a Thrill

I’m sitting here watching American Idol, and they’re talking about putting runs in songs, frilling it up so to speak. How sometimes it really isn’t necessary, to just let the song be the song. It made me think about writing. It seems lately that a lot of books are “frilled” out, filled with “runs” and gimmicks, bogging down and sometimes obscuring the stories. I like action, I like some paranormal, but I’ve read some books lately that read as if the author was throwing things in to stylize the book, to make it fit with these booming sub-genres. Have we lost the ability to tell a simple story, a love story where the focus is on the “love” and not the peripheral gogglidook jumping out everywhere? Can we still just sing the melody? What do you think?

I'm referring to romances here, not urban fantasy, or even fantasy at all.

Who's Your Inner Pop Princess?

Your Inner Pop Princess Is Kelly Clarkson

"Grew up in a small town And when the rain would fall down I'd just stare out my window Dreaming of what could be" No doubt about it, you have star quality. Might just take a while to get there.

Who's Your Inner Pop Princess?

That's not so bad, I kinda like Kelly.

Well, I'm feeling better, not wonderful, but better. Have a 9 - 5er on Tuesday, can we all say "Wowzaa". I've been having fun with the quizzes now that I've figured out how to post them.

Or, how about this funny from Susan:

Checking In

The only reason those furry little monsters have been able to take over is because I've come down with some sort of virus. When it rains, it pours. I'm in bed, and not able to sit up too long. I'm keeping nothing down - not ginger ale, not tea, nothing. And let's just say that both ends are having fun. I'm going back to sleep now, maybe I'll be better by Monday.

Dere Humanz

We have takin ovur the compooter. If u do not meet r demanz, u wil not see mommie Bailey agin.

1. catnip, lots of it
6. tuna. Nun of that watur crap, reel oyl.
18. milk, reel cow stuff
3. toys
8. comfy bed, fore of them


signed,
the katz

(eccept fur bubba, the cow-word)

Happy St. Patrick's Day

God made the grass, the air and the rain;
And the grass, the air and the rain made
the Irish; and the Irish turned the grass,
the air and the rain back into God.

Sean O’Faolain

Spamania

No prof go mississippian. (I’ve had some go native.)
Plus, with the wooden stand, a hot laptop no longer means a lowered sperm count. (There’s been a problem with that?)
Defiantly coast guard. (Yeah, that’s the Coast Guard, defiant to the end.)
Do you know that? (That’s what my dad always said.)
Don’t know where to buy pills? (Um, my guess would be … the drugstore?)
Never struggle with your jewelry again. (That’s what I took self defense for – I was tired of being beaten up by my jewelry.)
From all of us at Infraspection Institute, Happy Thanksgiving to all of our readers. (Isn’t it a little late for Thanksgiving? I think you’ve been infraspecting too much)
Fork intention final straw. (Oh yeah? Well fork you.)
Your dick will explode. (Not if I don’t pull the pin.)
How do I use Viagra Soft tabs? (Don’t worry about it, your dick will explode anyway.)
Silly Willy? (yep, silly willy. Kaboom!)
Amnesia meteorite. (another victim of the hijacked planetarium. When will it stop?)
Get ready for love in just 15 minutes. (Hugh’s coming over?)
He said he would wait 2 weeks if he were him. (If not Hugh, then who?)
Sorry to be late. (Oh no! Spam!)

Mixed News

I had a bit of an unusual day yesterday. Since we’re friends, I’ll always try to keep you informed about what is happening to me, but I won’t dwell on it – I want this to be a happy place.

Anyway, I went for a psych evaluation. We all know I’ve been depressed since mom’s death, but it’s more than that. I’ve been depressed for most of my adult life. So that was no surprise. We also know I suffer from a form of agoraphobia, once again no surprise, except for the fact that it’s getting worse. A panic disorder wasn’t a surprise either. What was the surprise was the probable diagnosis of bi-polar. Well, I can’t really say that that was a total surprise either – Bebo and I had suspected it for quite some time, since Howard was bi-polar and Bebo was very acquainted with that condition. I am around the same age Howard was when his condition became evident. Being bi-polar doesn’t really scare me as I know with medication that it can be handled. It’s what happened to Howard later that scares me. He began showing signs of schizophrenia – or rather schizoid affects. It’s in our family, there waiting in the shadows. I try not to think about it. But, the bi-polar does explain the spurts of writing and then none. It explains a lot of things.

Anyhoo, I just wanted everyone to know what was going on. I’ll be okay – as long as I have people to “talk” to so I don’t feel so isolated. Y’all have been great friends. Thank you.

EDIT: I forgot that some people have just begun popping in. Howard was my brother who passed away in 2005. Bebo is his widow.

The Tree

The tree wasn’t that old, only 28 – practically a baby in tree years, and yet it was gnarled, its branches twisted, some dead and no longer bearing leaves. For over two decades its leaves had shaded the front of the home, branches cradling nests high in the air. In the Summer it sheltered; Fall saw leaves turned yellow; its branches bare by Winter’s cold, made magical by Christmas lights wrapped around a thick trunk; but each Spring it went into bud, long wormy fuzzy things shedding all over the place, shoes trailing them into the house. A man planted the tree and ended up cursing it; a grandmother held it straight during planting; children swung from its lower limbs. Squirrels scrambled through its branches, Keystone Kop-like in their afternoon fun. It had witnessed much - sorrow, happiness, anger and pain.

The tree wasn’t that old, only 28 … and as much as I hate that tree I shall miss it very much.

So, do you have a love/hate relationship with something?

Bored

I have absolutely nothing to blog about. It’s been one of those weeks, you know, when I could use a bear. A goose. Big hairy spider and a dead husband walking. That’s part of the problem with living alone, I have no one to blame for eating all of the cookies, except for myself. (Did I mention they were the chocolate chip cookies that I’d baked for Jill? – yeah, she knows, I’m forgiven … I think) If only the cats would act out – back talk me, give me funny things to talk about, but no – they stick to cat stuff, nothing out of the ordinary. Darn it. So I guess it’s time for that “I’ve got nothing to blog about” subject – Whatcha reading? I have a stack, no make that stacks, of books next to the bed.

That's my post, and I'm sticking to it.

Playing Chicken

This is supposedly a true story, if not - well, it's cute anyway.

This is the transcript of an actual radio conversation of a U.S. Navy ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October, 1995.

Radio conversation released by the Chief of Naval operations, October 10, 1995.

Canadians: Please divert your course 15 degrees to the South to avoid a collision.

Americans: Recommend you divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision.

Canadians: Negative. You will have to divert your course 15 degrees to the South to avoid a collision.

Americans: This is the captain of a U.S. Navy ship. I say again, divert your course.

Canadians: No, I say again, you divert your course.

Americans: This is the Aircraft carrier USS Lincoln, the second largest ship in the United States Atlantic fleet. We are accompanied by three destroyers, three cruisers and numerous support vessels. I demand that you change your course 15 degrees North, I say again, one five degrees North, or countermeasures will be undertaken to ensure the safety of this ship.

Canadians: This is a lighthouse. Your turn.

Goodbye Winter

If today’s 83 degree temp is any indication – Winter is over here in North Texas. Now commences Tornado Season Spring. So as a homage to Winter, here is the one good snow sleet storm we had. Sleet isn’t bad to walk on, unless you’re going downhill. See the ramp – yep, I was pretty trapped until it melted.

New Hero

So I'm watching Nora Robert's Carolina Moon a few weeks back and, well let's just say my heart still belongs to Hugh, but Oliver here has got to be a hero in one of my books.

Happy Spamday

Happy birthday Diane. My wish for you in this coming year is peace, laughter, love and friendship. You are very special to me. Love you. (and look – no screamers)



Tired of useless exercises for penis enlargement? (I don’t believe it. I’ve tried exercising and not one large penis has come near me.)
I am your friend. (and you are … ?)
Be so candelabra. (I’d rather be a chandelier)
Jeanne – 100% results (Jeanne – you been testing?)
Amazing! They told her she was APPROVED. (THEY DID. OH WOW! Jeanne’s been approved.)
All pain goes, but not forever. (If you’d quit hitting yourself with the hammer it would.)
Another devotee. (That’s Angie, she's my new buddy.)
Hijacker planetarium (Someone hijacked a planetarium? What did they say – take me away or I’ll stick it up Uranus?)
Clearance cream (I don’t even want to know)
This one is what you need on Thursday. (Thursday’s are poor neglected days, but I don’t think spam is going to help them.)
New found sex drive. (Is that next to the hard drive?)
Found himself beset where? (That’s what I was asking.)
At Bailey (Oh, he’s not going to attack me. I’ll put him in the backyard.)
A man with a small dick is like a candle that is almost burned. (Yes, grasshopper)
Say “I can have sex all night long!” (I can have sex all night long.)
“Those kids would be more inclined.” (Well yeah, they’re younger than me.)

No Wonder

If you've noticed something strange about my blog lately, it's because the cats have taken over. Here's BooBear browsing for pictures (I've caught him on naked cat porn sites). I'm trying to take back control, but it's hard. They keep throwing hair balls at me. Neely Shae is awaiting her turn - she wants to write a book about her lunch entititled "The Cathair in the Rye". Aidan? He's into a site called mycatspace.com. He has lots of friends like Garfield, Morris, Salem, Sneaky Pie, Koko, and Yum Yum. Bubba (at end of bed, out of picture) plays on-line poker, Texas Hold 'em. They never did this when I used the PC, but this laptop gives them easy access. It's been a real problem. At least they haven't figured out how to get it out of it's case ... yet.

Pre-Orders

Have you ever wondered what pre-orders mean to an author. I did, so I asked. The print run is decided by the preorders from the major bookchains and Amazon. Once the pre orders come in to the publisher, that’s how they determine how many to print, which is the print run. The higher the print run, the better the author is doing, and the better an author is doing, the better the publisher treats them, etc. Some authors, those on the highest tier of the writerstratasphere, automatically get high-print runs. They include Nora Roberts, Jayne Ann Krentz, Debbie Macomber, etc. But most authors are in that middle section, that gray area where it also depends upon how much the editor/publisher likes them that determines the print run. Of course, the higher the print run, the more books the author is likely to sell. Have you ever gone to the bookstore to buy your auto-buy and notice that that particular author only has about 2 or 3 books on the shelf? That doesn’t always mean that the others sold out, it could also mean that only 2-3 books were ordered based upon the lack of pre-sales. Sort of like how well a movie does in the theaters may determine how many copies of a movie Blockbuster buys to put on their shelves. A movie that tanked doesn’t lend itself to the likelihood of a lot of rentals. Same with books; a book that doesn’t garner a lot of pre-orders/publicity isn’t likely to engender a lot of confidence in the bookstore as to whether it will sell or not, hence low orders from the publisher for their shelves. Why am I telling you all of this? Because we as readers need to support those authors who sit in that middle and lower section of writer hierarchy. If you have an author that you like who isn’t in that upper rung, who doesn’t seem to have a lot of books at the stores – then start pre-ordering their books. This is also especially true for those just starting out. That’s why I always try to pre-order books. I like to support “my” authors.

Thirteen Days of Glory

On March 6, 1836, The Alamo fell to Santa Ana's troops, marking a turning point in Texas' war for Independence from Mexico. For thirteen days, a ragtag group of men held the Mexican general in one place, allowing the Tejano army the chance to gather strength, and giving them the rallying cry of "Remember the Alamo".

Ballad of the Alamo
(written by P.F. Webster & D. Tiomkin)

In the Southern part of Texas, in the town of San Antone
Is a fortress all in ruin that the weeds have overgrown
You may look in vain for crosses and you'll never see a one
But sometimes between the setting and the rising of the sun
You can hear a ghostly bugle as the men go marching by
You can hear them as they answer to that roll call in the sky
Colonel Travis, Davy Crockett and a hundred eighty more
Captain Dickinson, Jim Bowie, present and accounted for

Back in 1836 Houston said to Travis
Get some volunteers and go, fortify the Alamo
Well the men came from Texas and from old Tennessee
And they joined up with Travis just to fight for the right to be free.
Indian scouts with squirrel guns, men with muzzle loaders
Stood together heel and toe to defend the Alamo
"You may ne'er see your loved ones" Travis told them that day
"Those who want to can leave now, those who fight to the death let 'em stay."

In the sand he drew a line with his army saber
Out of a hundred eighty five not a soldier crossed the line

With his banners a dancin' in the dawn's golden light
Santa Ana came prancin' on a horse that was black as the night
Sent an officer to tell Travis to surrender
Travis answered with a shell and the rousing rebel yell
Santa Ana turned scarlet, "Play Deguello!" he roared
"I will show them no quarter, everyone will be put to the sword!"

One hundred and eighty five holding back five thousand
Five days, six days, eight days, ten, Travis held and held again
Then he sent for replacements for his wounded and lame
But the troops that were coming, never came, never came, never came

Twice he charged and blew recall on the fatal third time
Santa Ana breached the wall and he killed them one and all
Now the bugles are silent and there's rust on each sword
And the small band of soldiers lie asleep in the arms of the Lord

In the Southern part of Texas, near the town of San Antone
Like a statue on his pinto rides a cowboy all alone
And he sees the cattle grazin' where a century before
Santa Ana's guns were blazin' and the cannons used to roar
And his eyes turn sort of misty and his heart begins to glow
And he takes his hat off slowly to the men of Alamo
To the thirteen days of glory at the seige of Alamo

Irish Festival part 1

It ended up being just Bebo and I, but we had fun. We ate, walked, shopped (I spent too much), and watched a group called The Makem Brothers with Mickey and Liam Spain (twice). Loved them! We ended up buying a CD a piece. The Makem Brothers (Rory, Shane and Conor)are the sons of Irish folk singer Tommy Makem.

There were a lot of dogs there, mainly big Irish Wolfhounds and (I'm going to spell this wrong) Pyrennes. But then I saw this gorgeous, gentle giant - a Newfoundland.

Irish Festival part 2

Here are the bagpipers.

I'm tired, beyond pooped. My voice is shot. It was cold, but it was more the wind that did me in. I'm probably going to spend most of Monday recuperating, but it was worth it.

Checking In

Not much to blog about. We'll be off for the festival Sunday morning, then a day of fun. So I'll leave you with this.

Lost and Found
As the bus pulled away, I realized I had left my purse under the seat. Later I called the company and was relieved that the driver had found my bag. When I went to pick it up, several off-duty bus drivers surrounded me. One man handed me my pocketbook, two typewritten pages and a box containing the contents of my purse. "We're required to inventory lost wallets and purses," he explained. "I think you'll find everything there." As I started to put my belongings back into the pocketbook, the man continued, "I hope you don't mind if we watch. Even though we all tried, none of us could fit everything into your purse. And we'd like to see just how you do it."

Oh, I forgot! Happy Birthday Dru! I hope you have a wonderful day!!!!

Oh Boy

Reminds me of a Peter Seller's movie. I just thought this was funny.


Swiss accidentally invade Liechtenstein

What began as a routine training exercise almost ended in an embarrassing diplomatic incident after a company of Swiss soldiers got lost at night and marched into neighboring Liechtenstein.
According to Swiss daily Blick, the 170 infantry soldiers wandered just over a mile across an unmarked border into the tiny principality early Thursday before realizing their mistake and turning back.
A spokesman for the Swiss army confirmed the story but said that there were unlikely to be any serious repercussions for the mistaken invasion.
"We've spoken to the authorities in Liechtenstein and it's not a problem," Daniel Reist told The Associated Press.
Officials in Liechtenstein also played down the incident.
Interior ministry spokesman Markus Amman said nobody in Liechtenstein had even noticed the soldiers, who were carrying assault rifles but no ammunition. "It's not like they stormed over here with attack helicopters or something," he said.
Liechtenstein, which has about 34,000 inhabitants and is slightly smaller than Washington DC, doesn't have an army.

Peter Spam

Be on McFadden (I don’t even know McFadden)
Then, why would you want to pay money for something you can get for free? (Oh, so that’s who he is …)
What your cat doesn’t know about credit repair. (BooBear got credit?)
It unlikely (That’s what I thought.)
Your neighbors lost their alarm clock. (Don’t look at me, I’m still looking for the cat’s credit card)
Think I found it! (Stay out of my backyard.)
Linux is now firmly entrenched in the enterprise. (Send him to sick bay.)
Did you order this? (Is it McFadden?)
Smuggler (Hey, they need alarm clocks in Mexico.)
Still down or tired? (Yep, but it’s getting better. Thanks for asking.)
Feel better with us. (No thank you. I’d rather have a daiquiri.)
In Missouri it milch. (Um Joely? What’s milch?)
Raise ejaculation volume. (Where’s the mute button?)

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Back to Work I Go

I’m feeling much better now, although my voice gives out easily. I’ll be returning to work Thursday, but only for a half day. I don’t think I’m capable of a full 8 hour shift.

Bebo and I will be going to the North Texas Irish Festival on Sunday. Cece and Dennie will be going to. That’ll be a lot of fun. I love this festival – Bebo and I have been attending for the last 5 or 6 years. I’ll be taking it slowly though, lots of stops and rests.

What are your plans for the weekend?

Eureka!

While laying here in bed I made an amazing discovery. When I watch TV I have to lie on my side facing both the TV and the door to the bathroom. One morning I was lying here and noticed Bubba playing on the rug below the bed. He was tossing something into the air and then smacking it down – sort of what I wanted to do to my last boyfriend. I watched for a few moments as he batted one of my black socks around. I have this habit of taking my shoes off there and tossing the socks on the rug, even though the hamper is a little over an arms length away. I never said I wasn’t lazy. I return to watching the TV while keeping a peripheral eye on Bubba. He tossed the sock towards the bathroom, stalked it, and then “killed” the monster (if you have cats, you’ll know what I mean). Now I must explain something about the bathroom. When we moved in here there was a little vanity area next to the sink – an open place where you could put one of those fancy bathroom chairs. The small room was lacking in storage space, so my father the carpenter enclosed that area with drawers. They don’t go all the way down to the floor though – there’s a small gap along the bottom. Got it? When I next looked at Bubba he was rolling around on the bathroom rug pulling one end up over him and then jumping out onto the sock – a real giggling moment. Then I saw him do something I’d never seen any of the cats do – he started stuffing the sock into that little slot and then reaching a paw under there to bat it around. I called him away and then went to get a broomstick to retrieve my sock. When I swept the handle underneath the cabinet not only did I retrieve one sock but three more. It’s not the washer/dryer that’s eating our socks, it’s our pets!

I almost forgot - Happy Birthday Ruby! I wish you a year of improved health, happiness and all of the books you want to read. You've been a great friend - remember you're never alone, we're all here.

February 27

I need to do a little catching up. Last Friday was Glenice’s birthday, but I was too sick to do anything, so here’s a Happy Belated Birthday! Glenice, you have been such a great friend. You’ve supported me through hard times, flying here after mom died to help me; painting my bedroom, re-caulking the bathtub, keeping me company. I can never thank you enough. I love you sweetie.

Now, guess what today is? What, you don’t know? It’s my first anniversary. Yep, 1 year ago today I started this blog. It’s been a long and winding road filled with ups and downs (although more downs than ups). I’ve made a lot of friends, had a bunch of giggles – you’ve touched my heart in many ways. Here’s to a lot more good times. I had planned to do a lot more about this, but not now – maybe later.

Went ahead and took Tuesday off, I won’t be returning to work until Thursday. I’m still struggling a bit for breath, and I’m still tired.

Oscar, Oscar

I can’t remember ever having been so bored by the Oscar broadcast. I mean, some years were better than others, but this was just … or I don’t know – blah? My mind kept drifting, I didn’t find a lot of the jokes funny. I love Ellen – I think she’s hysterical and, whenever I remember to, I watch her show, but I didn’t think she was funny. She was better than David Letterman, but Ben Stein could have done better than he did. I did like her banter with members of the audience - giving Martin Scorcese a screenplay. I miss Billy Crystal. He is the uber-host of the Oscars. Or Whoopi. The shtick between Leonardo and Al Gore was cute though. I'm glad Jennifer Hudson won - so there Simon, she is an American Idol. And what is it with those dancers/whatever they were? Totally dullsville. But then a bright and shiny moment happened. In the midst of all of this blahdom out walked, yes, Hugh. My Hugh. Handsome in his tux, resplendent in all of his manly glory. Almost made it worth the nearly four hours.

I also felt a little lost. I haven’t seen any of these movies. I’m so out of the loop.

Breathing is a little better, strength not great. I don’t know if I’m going to make it to work on Tuesday or not. And now that I've stayed up so late watching the Oscars, I'm awfully tired.

Entertain Me

I’m a little better. I managed to get the flowmeter up to 150 on Saturday, previously it was only going to about 100. For those of you unfamiliar with asthma, a flowmeter measures the amount of air that you’re moving – it should be in the 200s. My energy level is a little better too. Not great, but better. I haven’t been reading because I’ve not been able to keep my eyes open long enough. I’m hoping to spend Sunday reading.

I’m taking one of Michele’s suggestions on yesterday’s post – I’m going to let you entertain me. I have several movies that, while not necessarily my favorites, are movies that I can play over and over again – like background noise. I know when to stop what I’m doing to catch a favorite scene, for example. Here is my list of 5 movies that I can do this with, in no certain order:

Lord of the Rings: Return of the King
Volcano
The Mummy
While You Were Sleeping
Independence Day

So, what about you? Give me your list.

Rules for Non-Pet Owners Who Visit

1. They live here. You don't.

2. If you don't want their hair on your clothes, stay off the furniture.

3. I like my pets a lot better than I like most people.

4. To you, it's an animal. To me, he/she is an adopted son/daughter who is short, hairy, walks on all fours and doesn't speak clearly.

Update:

The sinuses are better, but the breathing isn't. I'm only able to be up for about 10 - 15 minutes at a time. And I'm bored.

Update

Sinus induced asthma, I'm on my butt for a few days - won't go to work until Tuesday. No spam this week, sorry.

Yuck

This thing has sunk into my lungs, I have an appointment with the doctor on Thursday, I'll let you know what happens. Until then, I'm in bed - I don't even have the energy to stand up long enough to fix something to eat, let alone stay at the computer long. Lets just hope it's not pneumonia.

Happy Birthday Jana

Please allow me in indulge myself in a little personal moment.

Jana – I know you’re lurking out there and I wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday. The first birthday of yours that we celebrated was 31 years ago, but it was your birthday in 1978 that I remember the most. I waited 2 months for you to turn 17 so that we could go to our first R rated movie. Remember? Kentucky Fried Movie. Ah yes, that brilliant contribution to the list of classic movies. Not. We were carded at the ticket booth, by the usher before we went in, the usher while we were sitting in the theater. I was so scared we were going to get caught with our contraband of cans of soda and candy that we’d snuck in – you know I’m not that adventurous. I recently had the opportunity to see that movie again; it was boring. I can remember laughing hysterically, so it shows that sometimes you should avoid revisiting old memories – they won’t measure up. We were so innocent then.

It doesn’t matter how much time passes, our friendship is essential to my life. I hope you have a good day sweetie, I think about you everyday and I’ll love you forever.

Oy

Good news: I’m not so dizzy anymore.
Bad news: Now I have a head cold/sinus – fungus is very, very high and I’m a stuffed up/draining, sneezing little fool. But I’ll make it.

And furthermore, my characters have been giving me hell.

You can say that again.

Excuse me, this is my blog.

I don’t care if it’s the bloody Tower of London. Somebody is planning the ol’ switcheroo.

No, really? *gasp*

Don’t think I’m not paying attention. Did you really believe I’d let you get away with this. Operation: Eden is my book, not my wuss of a brother’s.

You have no idea what you’re talking about. Just hold those pretty little horses of yours …

Honey, that’s not all I’m going to be holding. Eden is my girl.

Nobody said otherwise.

But you’re switching characters. You said so yourself.

Where’d you hear that.

I read it, right on this blog.

No one gave you permission to read this blog.

Sure they did.

Who?

Bud and Ernie.

The Satellite Twins have no say in the matter. They’re just characters too.

Don’t tell them that.

Hey, they’re lucky I didn’t keep them as figments of my imagination. If they keep this up, that’s where they’ll be heading. Just a couple of voices in my head. And as for you …

I get the girl.

Of course you get the girl.

I do? I don’t understand, I thought you were switching the characters.

I am.

But I’m still going to get the girl?

Oh yeah, you’re going to get it all right.

Eeek, Monday

Well it’s after 9:00 on Sunday night and I just realized I haven’t written Monday’s blog post, sooooo here I am. I had a quiet Sunday, slept on and off, did some Myspace friending (If you haven’t “friended” me yet – why not?), re-did the bio for that site since what I had there was a bit sparse. Like two sentences? I really hate writing about myself so I’d left it for as long as I could. I’m not so dizzy tonight, but I am still quite tired. I had a really bad dizzy spell this morning – I thought I was going to fall over, which wouldn’t have been a pretty sight. Then I looked at the clock and realized it was after 10:30 a.m. and I hadn’t eaten yet. I’ve never had a sugar drop before, but that may have been what it was – I’m hoping it wasn’t the new meds. I don’t like all of this sleeping – it’s interfering with my writing and reading. When I wasn’t sleeping I was laying in bed catching up on episodes of Supernatural and Criminal Minds that I’d taped last week, tomorrow I catch up on my Dresden episodes.

Oh wow, this is such a titillating post I don’t know how you can stand it. I miss blogging. I miss all of you, and I hope I can get back to it. I won’t be hitting my entire list in one day though – I did that last week and it took almost 2 hours. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m not dropping any of you, so I’ll figure something out. Right now I’m yawning so much its insane. Or is that you yawning? I wouldn’t blame you. Give me another day and I hope to be back to my usual witty self, or somebody’s witty self, I don’t care.

Y’all take care, thank you for visiting (I do read the comments), and I’ll see you (as soon as my eyes open fully).

Blah Sunday

Not going to The House today, thank goodness. I don’t think I could handle it today, so it’s a good thing that Bebo had something else she had to do. I think all those extra days at the bookstore has added to my not feeling well – we’ve discussed before my allergies and that store.

I’m not feeling 100 percent yet. Not constantly dizzy, but it does come in waves and the nausea isn’t completely gone – I’ve just got to let me body get used to these drugs and then those side effects will go away.

I’m going to have a quiet Sunday, maybe laze around in bed for a while – I might try to get one or two household chores done, but honestly I’m exhausted.

So how has your weekend been?

A Beautiful Winter Poem

From Susan

" WINTER "

a poem by Abigail Elizabeth McIntyre

" SHIT It's Cold ! "

The End

Coffee, Tea or Spam

My discovery. (Didn’t I tell you to stay out of my backyard?)
Said he showing me. (Who’s showing you?)
Now the secret is out. (Well if he’d quit showing everyone.)
Margarita plane. (Where do I buy my ticket?)
I’m coming over. (In the margarita plane? Gives a new meaning to the phrase “flying high”)
Would you like to use your dick as a billiards cue? (For the thirty-three hundredth time, I’m a woman!)
Works on women too. (Oh, this is too much.)
The copyright notice is reproduced on the page immediately following the title. (And you’re telling me this because … someone has a copyright on spam?)
Elvira we have the most advanced ass tracking services in the world. (Other than the fact that I don’t want my ass tracked, who the hell is Elvira?)
Amazing! They told her she was approved. (That’s good. Maybe they’re hearts on fire for Elvira.)
How’s it hanging? (It.doesn’t.hang. But hey, have I got a product for you. Do you like to play pool?)
Free condoms for all in Brazil. (Must be where all of the margarita planes take off from.)
It’s all in the mind. (I’ve got drugs for that now.)
Weight loss in 7 days. (Quickie divorce in Brazil.)
What your cat doesn’t know about credit repair. (Oh no, Bubba has a credit card!)
Bob said that the Sal and Richard thing is getting out of hand. (Elvira, Bob, Sal and Richard? My God, spam’s got names!)

Egads!

I'm working with the boss Thursday morning

This has been a warning from the My Boss is a Perfectionist System

We now return you to your regular blogging.

So, yeah, I'm working with the boss on Thursday morning. Can't you tell I'm excited? I like him, but not to work with. He's picky, a perfectionist and he makes me nervous. I make more mistakes when he's around than I would in a month or two. I don't do things the way he does and trying to remember how I'm supposed to do it, well it's just frustrating. On the bright side, I do start my new anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication that morning too. Maybe they'll conteract each other? I apologize for yesterday - I had a minor meltdown Tuesday night and couldn't post. I thought about mom's birthday, Christmas, New Years as days that would get me, but I never considered Valentine's Day and how lonely I would feel. No card, no rose, no mom. Even through the fog of Alzheimer's last year, she somehow remembered to have Bebo buy me a rose. So yesterday pretty much sucked. Big time. I spent the morning getting enrolled in our low-income medical program, saw a doctor, got hooked up with drugs, had three vials of blood withdrawn and in a couple of weeks I should be seeing a psychiatrist. Then maybe Bailey will be a happy camper again. I've had a very hard time since mom died - being clinically depressed when I began taking care of my parent's didn't help much. Not having any medical care for the last 7 years wasn't a good thing either. It's one of the reasons I've had a hard time getting the house in order, and it's also interfering with my writing. Major no no. When you're depressed you have periods of high energy and then periods where things that you normally enjoy don't interest you; hence the writing and then not writing, reading and then not reading.

On the writing front - weeeellllll, my readers may have fits, but I'm thinking of changing the direction of the story. Brandy, quit throwing things at me; Glenice? Yeah, you and what army; Jeanne, I think my cats can take yours; Susan, yeah, they could probably take yours too. I'm getting to know my characters and, well, they're not happy with the story line. Imagine that - like they think it's their story or something. Of all the nerve. No, really, I think (and Bebo too) that the direction I'm leaning towards is a good one. We'll see, I haven't decided yet.

I'd better get to bed now - I have "you know who" in the morning and I don't want to be a slug.

Sorry I haven't been a good blogging buddy either. I think I mentioned that I'm filling in for someone at work and I've been working every day this week. Things will be back to normal (as normal as I can get) after the weekend.

Valentine's Day

Sorry, there isn't a post today. I hope everyone has a happy Valentine's Day.

Tuesday Musings

Couple of questions from yesterday’s blog. Siobhan – Wallyworld is the nickname for Walmart. And yes, there are a lot of soap actors on my boards. I do this for two reasons. There are a few soap magazines and it’s easier to find them than to scan several “variety” type rags for one or two precious pictures of someone for my characters. I like to have several pictures of the person representing many moods, especially if I’m not that familiar with their work. Secondly, you can find more casual or action pics of soap stars. Scenes from the show, etc. In mags they’re more formal shots, posed for the sitting. Take yesterday’s “cover” (that’s what I call them). There’s a photo of my heroine Maddy aiming a gun, which she actually does in the book AND Clooney (my hero of course) running from a car explosion, only in the book he’s the one in the explosion. They add to character dimensions that I’m looking for. I also make up writing tapes/CD’s for each book. Some have words, others don’t. If I’m in the zone it doesn’t matter if there are words or not, but if I’m having trouble, am easily distracted then I have to go with instrumental. For example, on Maddie and Nathan’s tape is the Theme from Somewhere in Time and Etta James singing At Last. Since they are mysteries, you’ll also find songs like Smugglers Blues and In the Air Tonight. Ambience, so to speak. These books were about the Delmont siblings and Clare Delmont was the youngest. When she takes to the floor at the local bar, Stevie Ray Vaughan’s Look at Little Sister plays. It gives me a feeling for the character. This is another of the covers, the book is Gifts from the Devil. I’ll get back to them some day. They call to me every once in a while just to let me know they’re waiting.

Monday, Monday

This is the character board I did for The Devil You Know, I've changed some of the people I picked out for my characters though. This isn’t an actual storyboard, but a small (about the size of the flat insert in shirts) group of images that I would take with me if I worked over at Bebo’s house. We used to do that a lot, work in her bedroom while my brother Howard watched TV in the living area. We’d bounce ideas off of each other, talk through storyline problems, search through endless magazines for character pictures. Some days we’d go over to B&N or Borders (whichever had an outdoor sitting area) and write. The original opening scene for The Devil You Know was written while at one of those places. I used to be able to write in long-hand then. But most importantly, I would come home full of energy and excitement about the writing that I couldn’t wait to get started. I miss those days. When we’re through with The House we’re going to try to start doing that again.

They’ve brought the “s” word back in to the forecast (snow) for this Wednesday. I have an appointment early that day that I had to wait three weeks to get. I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to cancel it, so I’m hoping for a light snow and no ice.

That’s it. A co-worker is on vacation and I have to work a 1 – 5 shift today. I hate that. I can’t really do anything because once I get started on something I have to quit and get ready for work. Oh well, it’s only one day. I’ll also be working Wednesday night and a full shift on Saturday, so I’ll be picking up 12 extra hours this week. That will help.

I’m outta here. I have to go to Wallyworld tomorrow and since I have to be at work by 1:00 I’ll need to get up early and get stuff done.

Have a great Monday everyone.

Horrors of Horrors ... And a Happy Birthday too

(Cue Vincent Price type music)

So, we’re off to The House today. Can everyone say Yay? Thought not. This 2 – 3 hours every Sunday is going to take us forever. I think I have a little under a half of the kitchen packed, although if you ask me (which The Sister wouldn’t) all of that stuff will have to be disinfected before use. Everything. Altogether we probably have about 50% of the house packed. Then there’s the garage. Can everyone say Fun? Yeah, I saw that smirk. I’ve been told there’s a cabinet with a lot of their wedding gifts. Huh? Married for a little over 20 years, divorced for about 10 – when does one decide that wedding gifts should be used? Whoever buys this house (and it will be one of those “cash for homes” people) will have to do a lot of work. A.lot. Not to mention disinfecting.

Well, let’s see, what else is happening? Did I mention my toothache was back? Out with the cloves again. The writing has been sort of, well, um, it’s – OKAY I HAVEN’T BEEN WRITING. So there. I’ve realized what the problem is and I’ll be dealing with it hopefully this week. I haven’t done a storyboard on my characters. I’ve never written without one and in fact, didn’t have it on the last MS. Problems with it too. Anyway, I’ve also been doing some thinking about the WIP too. I’ve got a germ of an idea for Taylor’s story (my hero’s brother), and maybe for the series as a whole. I even have a small inkling of the first scene for Taylor. I’m also fighting an old demon. Yep, I’m thinking about dragging out The Devil You Know, which is the most completed MS I have. But that’s not quite true. It’s the most completed all right – it’s also the one that has to be reworked entirely. I fell in love with my secondary male character to the detriment of my hero, so I’ve got to go back and re-write it, or at least re-write my hero. And heroine. She ended up being a little wimpy, so she needs a backbone. And it’s not funny – I’m not sure if I’m going to leave it as a romantic suspense or entice it to the lighter side.

That’s it for awhile. I’m off to find a hazmat suit.

Oh, and ….

Happy Birthday Pam! I hope you have a great day. You’ve been a wonderful friend and deserve all the best there is.

Justifiable Homicide

Sarah walked into a pharmacy and told the pharmacist that she needed some cyanide.
The Pharmacist said, "Why in the world do you need cyanide?"
Sarah then explained she needed it to poison her husband.
The pharmacist's eyes got big and he said, "Lord, have mercy. I can't give you cyanide to kill your husband! That's against the law! I'll lose my license; they'll throw both of us in jail and all kinds of bad things will happen! Absolutely not, you can NOT have any cyanide!"
Sarah reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed... with the pharmacist's wife.
The pharmacist looked at the picture and replied, "Well, now. You didn't tell me you had a prescription."

Okay, Saturday's a work day, so I'll talk atcha later. Be good or have fun, I'll let you decide.

When You Wish Upon a Spam

Isn't Neely Shae pretty? She's my only girl.

Let's see what's in the ol' spam bulk file.


Gentle pork chop. (Yes, grasshopper?)
Your neighbors lost their alarm clock (I don’t have it.)
If not there, where? (Have you looked in the back yard?)
You’re so far away. (I’m right next door.)
I want to sell you a Rolex. Do you want one? (Nope, but the neighbors might.)
Then why would you want to pay for money for something you can get for free? (I’m not paying for them. They keep losing them and … well, you know.)
Credit Kung-Fu … Haaiiiiya (Tae Kwan Do to you too.)
Alpha male (Hugh Jackman? Yes please.)
Some people need to live in the real world. (Excuse me? I like my world.)
On pizza. (It’s better than being on drugs.)
The book has improved vastly over what it was half a year ago. (It should. It was barely there 6 months ago.)
And it’s hard to describe the intensity of this scene. (How do you know? Susan? Glenice? Brandy? Jeanne? Which one of you sent the MS to spam?)
You keep asking a lot. (Yeah? Fine. I’ll start telling. Leave me alone.)
The answers are “it depends”, “no, definitely not”, and “yes and no”. (I’m afraid of the questions.)
Tell me this wasn’t worth it. (It depends.)
I’ll be your man. (No, definitely not.)
Do you want your dick as tall as the Eiffel Tower? (Yes and no?)

Who are They?

What about your characters? Do you ever decorate their houses? When I was working on The Devil You Know, I had storyboards with not only the characters pictures, but clothes, cars, houses, rooms, etc. I even went so far as to use one of those home design programs and “drew” out their homes. It helped to keep me from turning right from the kitchen to the bedrooms in one chapter and to the left in another. Having the house plans drawn out like that came in handy. How much into detail do you go when creating your characters?

Oh, and that's Aidan and BooBear.

It's 9 - 5 Thursday at work, so y'all behave yourselves while I'm gone.

Who Am I?

I bought a cheap piece of art the other day, a Target $40 black framed photo of a street scene in Italy. Why am I telling you this? I’ve never bought anything like that. It’s interesting that I’m just now beginning to figure out what I like and dislike. I’ve never had a place of my own to decorate. The apartments I had during college were fully furnished, and besides my cousins house, they are the only places I’ve ever lived besides this house. I’m learning that there are different aspects of my personality. My bedroom, the one before mom died, is romantic; purple and elegant, with dark wood furnishings. Then I moved into mom’s old room and suddenly I went the opposite with a more modernistic look. Oh, there are still touches of my romantic side in there, but it’s more subtle; a Thomas Kinkaid print on the wall for one thing. The dishes I picked out are totally different than those I’ve coveted in the past. When I was younger I tended towards frilly, flowery china, and what did I end up buying? Oh, there are flowers, but they’re not pastel – they’re on a brown background with leaves. This has been fun, this discovery of who Bailey Stewart really is.

So, does your decorating style realistically reflect your personality?

A Midwinters Morn Mystery, The End

Just in case I didn’t make it clear – the fences involved are those 6 ft “privacy” fences.

That said:

Friday afternoon Stephen and I head out to the alley through my yard. We’re walking along, heads down as we scan the concrete for signs of blood. We get as far as Moses’ back yard when I see out of the corner of my eye Stephen stopping suddenly.
“Shit.”
I glance up. In front of us, where the alley takes a curve, stands a brown pit bull.
“Stephen, turn around slowly. No sudden moves. Do not, and I repeat, do not run. Walk calmly back to the gate and don’t make eye contact. Keep your head down.” Forget about me, if Stephen gets hurt I’ll never forgive myself. I’ve known this kid since he was in diapers and used to come over to watch my dad work in the garage. “Up grandpa” he’d say, and dad would lift him up onto a stool to watch. My second thought went to the feral kittens in my yard. We’d left the gate open. Intellectually, I knew that the babies would head for the hole under the house where the pit bull couldn’t catch them, but I feared for them anyway. The dog trailed up next to us and I glanced over at him under my lashes. There were letters tattoo on its side, the same kind of gang graffiti I’d seen in other areas of town. A chill went down my back. We reached the gate and went on into the yard, slamming the door behind us. I expelled the breath I’d been holding.
“Well, that was fun.”
We walked through the yard and into the front, discussing theories back and forth. As we stood there I heard barking. Looking up we watched as this ‘little yippy dog’ (that’s what we call it) that lives at a house on the corner chased the pit bull across the street, nipping at its heels. The.pit.bull.was.running.from.a.little.yippy.dog. Stephen and I looked at each other and just started laughing. But you know, we were still smart to be careful. How did we know the pit bull was a coward?
Nothing, there had been no blood in the alley. So here’s our theory. No cats. While it’s true that the cats could have (and do) go over those fences, the lack of blood on the tree and the fact that they didn’t go under the fence as usual pretty much ruled them out. Although they could leap over a spot and land, then jump back, we still didn’t think it was a cat. Dog? Not over the 6 ft fences. Even with a ladder in one spot. So that leaves humans. At least two. We believe a fight broke out in the alley (or even Moses’ yard), they chased each other over the fences (each other would be if there were more than 2), around the cars. One ran toward my ramp - might have fallen or was tackled, either way one fell with a hand outstretched (possibly the hand they had been using to stem the flow of blood from a broken nose) and that hand landed on the ceramic cat (the distance would have been about right for a tall person). He then scrambled up the ramp and off the end, heading towards Gwen’s house. This would also explain the blood going to two different directions. We theorize that a car came down the street, the fight broke up and they split, one up the street, one down.
The police, btw, think it was an animal. Brian, Debbie’s next older son had called them that night after he got home and was told what happened. They were only there for a few minutes, made a cursory look around and then left. Yeah, an animal. Flying dogs. Or maybe that kangaroo.

What do you think?

Yep, that’s right, we don’t know what happened. This is a choose your own adventure. Debbie and the boys could sleep through a tornado, and my bedroom is in the back of the house, with fans blowing. All I know is that my cats had gone a bit nuts somewhere around 11:00 p.m. – I know, because I was on the running track. But I was too tired to get out of bed and see what was bothering them. Now I wish I had. Who knows what I would have seen?

A Midwinters Morn Mystery Part III

If you haven't been following this non-fiction story, you need to catch up. Go here and here.

No blood on my patio or on the sidewalk as it wound its way back around the side of the house. I followed the Scooby gang out my gate.
“Stop here.” Debbie reached around me and pulled my gate shut. Then she shone her light at my feet. There on the concrete, in front of the hole that the ferals had knocked in the slats of the fence, were three to four drops of blood. It was if someone or something had stopped there for a moment.
“It continues down your sidewalk.” Was it my imagination, or had Debbie’s voice taken on an ominous tone?
I turned my light (torch for you Brits) on the walk and slowly followed droplets of blood. “So it goes across your driveway, up my sidewalk where it mysteriously disappears before re-emerging at my car?” What was it, a kangaroo? Stephen opened their and moved a ladder away from the fence that divided our yards.
“Was that there the entire time?”
“Nope. We left it against the house. There’s a drop of blood on the bottom rung too. And look.” Debbie turned towards where our fences met. There on the bottom post, right below where someone on the ladder would have hovered, suspended before dropping to the ground, was a single drop of blood. I felt a headache coming on.
“There’s also a single drop on the sidewalk in front of Moses’ house.”
Moses was the neighbor on Debbie’s other side.
We all walked around to the front of my house. I noticed that Debbie’s terriers Beau and Maverick (actually, a coincidence) were outside too. I felt better, after all no one’s ankles would be safe from them. Walking over to the ramp, I stood and watched as the other three went around my tree on their way to my other neighbor’s yard. Since I had my slippers on I decided to let them continue the snooping alone. I walked up to my porch and sat on the swing. Debbie and Lana stopped by Gwen’s car, Stephen and the dogs went on to her house. Of course, my mind is going in circles. It couldn’t have been a dog – it/they would have had to jump over two 6 foot wooden fences. Cat’s? Why didn’t they go under the fence, or up the tree? The tree? I called to Debbie to check the tree. Nothing. Not a drop of blood. She and Lana came on over to the ramp.
“What did you find?”
Debbie looked over at Stephen, who had continued on up the street. “The blood picked up at the edge of Gwen’s driveway on up to her porch and then disappears into her yard.”
The end of my ramp, where all of the blood splotches were, faces Gwen’s yard. Evidently, whatever it was, went off the end of my ramp and across the yard to her drive. I watched Stephen as he reached the corner. I wasn’t too scared, after all he had his trusty golf club.

Come to find out, the blood went on up the street, around the corner a little and then disappeared. That kangaroo was back. There wasn’t much more we could do then. I couldn’t talk Stephen into going into the alley. Wuss.

To be continued.

I know, but I don’t want to make the post too long, do I? *gg*

Oh no, Sunday

According to Astrology for Writers.

capricorn: who's kissing her now? your heroine looks as if she is quite the " rounder", and what reader doesn't fantasize about knowing such a woman. women see her as courageous( but slutty, oh well) , men see her as a fantasy. you've pleased both audiences!

Um, she hasn't kissed anyone ... yet ...

I'm off to The House. It's been nice knowing y'all ...

Could someone finish my book for me?

But there is the Superbowl. If you're into football, who are you rooting for? I'm going for the Colts because I like Tony Dungy (coach). And I can't wait to see the commercials. If I survive The House that is.

Damn

I have these salt and pepper shakers that belonged to mom. They’re Christmas ones – red Santa boots with poinsettia leaves on the side. Pretty, and they’ve been in my memory forever. I’m slowly getting my Christmas stuff put away because I’m going through things and trying to decide what I can keep and what will have to go. I won’t be able to take a lot of stuff to a one bedroom apartment. Before I put these away though, I decided that they needed to be cleaned. They were a little grungy, so I thought I’d clean them a little. Putting some lukewarm water and a little soap in the sink, I left them to soak for about a half an hour. Big mistake. I took them out and watched the paint slough right off of them. Yes, my pretty red and green shakers were now white all over. I was crushed, am crushed. I don’t know what to do. Keep them, I guess, until I can figure out how to get them restored.

So, on that note, what are you doing this weekend?

Honey Baked Spam

Hi Sweetheart. (Hi darling)
You are not really sociable (I try)
You weren’t enjoying dancing (You just said I wasn’t sociable)
It won’t be cheap to talk at the bank five weeks from now. (Are they going to charge $1 a word?)
The bigger the dick, the bigger the attention. (No shit Sherlock.)
Paradise you can afford (Not after going to the bank.)
With Penis Enlarge Patch your dick will be as long as a rope for climbing. (That would certainly get someone’s attention.)
Other guys are improving themselves … are you? (Improving other guys? I try to never take on the impossible.)
He-he man, why your woody is so small? (Um, let me see … because I’m a woman!)
I found something! (Does it tick?)
Must look at rare find. (It’s not that rare. I have several of them buried in my backyard.)
You lucky duck! (Hey, it’s not my fault the neighbors keep losing them.)
Tease. (Raine, is that you?)
My troublemaker (Oh right, first I’m your sweetheart and now I’m your troublemaker. Fickle.)
I stopped dating people I could “fix” and could make “better”. (And what? Started dating people you couldn’t “fix” and couldn’t make “better”?)


Edit: Somebody email me and tell me how to put a bookcover into my template for the side panel.

A Midwinters Morn Mystery Part II

I went to work, my mind still on that morning, but managed to make it through the day. That night, I waited for my neighbor, Debbie, to come home. Debbie was a year ahead of me in school (Susie in High School), so I’ve known her for a long time. How she ended up being my neighbor is another story. I managed to catch her as she was out starting her bar-b-que.

I called to her. “Come see this.”
She started across the drive-way. “Do you have blood too?”
Well, that stopped me in my tracks. “Too?”
“I have drops across my driveway.”

We stood and talked about it for a while, no answers. Then we parted ways, each going into our respective houses. Still a mystery.

A couple of hours later my doorbell rang. It was Debbie.

“I thought I’d tell you that we’re going into your backyard.”
“Um, why?”
“There’s blood drops going down your side sidewalk. They end at your gate. And when I went to put water in Tyson’s (their dog) water dish, the water was pink with a spot of blood on the rim.”
Yikes!
I got my flashlight and met them outside. Them being Debbie, her 15 year-old-son Stephen and her friend Lana. Stephen had a flashlight too and we began walking around. The Who kept singing around my head – any of the three CSI themes, you pick. But they wouldn’t let me be Catherine Willows. Damn!



To be continued ... on Monday.

Come on, admit it, you really do love me.

Edit: There are two new reviews up at Isn't It Romantic, one is for the best book that I've ever read. Period.