Insecurity and the Naked Chick

It's first Wednesday and you know what that means! Insecure Writer's Support Network!!! w00t w00t!

Seems strange, doesn't it? That someone who runs around naked, virtually or otherwise is insecure. I mean I am a girl with a policy reading: TMI is par for the course. I am a more is more gal, where over-sharing is the topic and less is more when the topic is attire.

I mean seriously... Naked is FUNNY!

But I want you to consider the class clown. Sometimes the goal of being a goof is to give people a reason to laugh at you so you never have to know if they'd laugh at you in a bad way.

I know. Deep, right? And honestly, when I was really MOST concerned about being laughed at, I was more a 'keep your mouth shut and maybe nobody will notice you don't know what's going on' girl. I was socially inept and kept quiet to hide it.

Now I'm socially inept and take my clothes off to hide it.

Are you spotting a pattern here? Polar extremes to hide the same thing. That is sort of me in a nut shell. (in the middle I tried a 'get so smart nobody will notice you're inept', but that only takes you so far if you are only so smart)

*cough*


But now we come to my CURRENT insecurity.

On my BLOG if you laugh at me that is mostly by design. Ninety percent of the time, even on a somewhat serious topic, I put some goof into the presentation (you know... in case you laugh at me...)

And the cozy mysteries have intentional humor to them. If somebody says to me after reading one “you're a riot!” that's a compliment.

Vaccine killing the country: NOT funny.

Tomorrow I release a book with significantly less humor. They aren't humor-free. Whatever I am, I'm always me, and frankly I like CHARACTERS who have a sense of humor better than those without, but this series has more serious circumstances, more evil villains, more horrible life events. It's meant to be a little horrible and a little sad and a little scary and the humor is really only so you can relate to the characters and LIKE them, and sometimes to give you a breather from the dark stuff.

So NOW if you laugh at me, I'm naked. How's that for irony?


What makes YOU feel figuratively naked? And how do you hide it? Or do you?


Don't forget to visit the other insecure writers today, too!

Death by Page Proofs

*falls over*

[Note: TOMORROW is when I will share results from Friday's poll... I have tallied, but at work I have better software for playing around with what I get]

So for the last week I've been microscopically reading The Begonia Bribe... This is not my favorite activity. For starters, page proofs are supposed to be fairly clean, so when I find a mistake I feel guilty. Did I do this? Should I have caught this earlier? (and I actually caught quite a lot—many more than last time)

And reading so carefully has awoken my inner insecure whiny baby. GADS! Is this GOOD ENOUGH to publish!?

See, this book was ALREADY challenging, so maybe that is part of it. It was my second in the series... and while I've written a trilogy, a series is a different animal. Each needs to stand alone... So there is the careful balance of what goes in and what doesn't so that new readers aren't lost, but repeat readers aren't annoyed.... and there were the subplots... I made the mistake in my early draft of front loading one of these and it pushed the body back too far into the story... so then I had to rewrite the darned thing... twice... Strangely, writing the 3^rd was a piece of cake by comparison (and my beta readers both independently told me they thought it was the best of the three). But number 2 comes out first...

Another challenge: Penguin changed my editor midway through... which is nobody's fault, not even the Romans... but there are challenges related. I loved Emily, my old editor. I love Michelle, my new editor. But I think changing captains mid-stream just means there are some complications. The new one doesn't know what the old one expected necessarily... and the ship (that's me) has to get a feel for the new driver...

But now it is DONE!!!! And I am FREE! Though working on a bloody holiday, which isn't my favorite thing. See, the U gives us the week between Christmas and New Years in lieu of a number of 3 day weekends and this is one of them. I don't get another 3 day weekend until Memorial day *grumbles*

Matriculating with Middle-Schoolers

[though I am using a facebook example, I think all this goes for Twitter and blogging, too... but if I get all specific, I could write all day... I will use Facebook because it illustrates it well...]

So I had a friend post a question yesterday... see... somebody had unfriended him... then sent him a friend request. My friend knows he says some outrageous things sometimes, usually in the spirit of getting a lively debate going, but he was wondering, in all sincerity, how this person he'd apparently offended was now magically NOT going to be offended if he didn't plan to change how he was.  Was it WORTH refriending?

I'm such a strong believer in 'I gotta be me'... and I accord that right to every last one of you... but it got me thinking about some of the childish stuff that happens online and just how many times these people need to attend kindergarten to grasp some basic rules of human interaction.

So I thought I'd share what I think the biggest offenders are, and the rules I try to follow, just for full transparency... Because y'all know I don't like to keep any secrets from you.


“Well some people...”

The worst offenders of this are middle-aged women... and I gotta say... would you like some CHEESE with that whine? If you have your feelings hurt and want to send a private message to your 30 BFFs I am perfectly HAPPY to be included—it isn't the whine that actually bothers me, so much as the intent of public shaming... some people need to vent and I would hope I could lend an ear, a shoulder, a hug... or a rare moment of insight that might make it seem better. But that throwing out of trash to the world? Baby, it's undignified! (not that I care two hoots for dignity, but honestly, it usually just makes it worse)

When I want to really vent... I send an EMAIL to a good friend (or several), or I go to the Burrow's secret place where my dozen close friends can see my tantrum and NOBODY else. I trust all of them with my unpublished manuscripts—you can bet ANYTHING I trust them with my tantrum. Or I talk to the Couch to Keg team in person.

Doing these cryptic public messages may earn a little sympathy... and honestly it DOES earn some from me... I care about my friends and don't want them so sad. But I promise, anybody who isn't a big mushy person is mocking you. It is just childish. I've seen so many “I'm DONE!”s... if it is followed by something specific—okay fine. Call it news. I can assume I'm in the close friend's 'who can see this' that's been drawn... I have a friend who has recently divorced and her ex is being an ass... she is FINE. I know she's not including say... HIS family on the matter... but without details, I gotta say it looks like just a temper tantrum.


Calling Out

Seriously... if you are naming names and there are mutual friends who can see... do it in private. You risk losing more friends than just the one who is being called out this way. In fact I gotta be honest... I am friends with some couples and a LOT of friend pairs, and I will always side with the person behaving better overall... and this public humiliation counts against whoever does it, so if you are doing this, you better make sure the other person did something a whole lot worse.

Unfriending

What, are we five? I remember in kindergarten hearing “I'm not gunna be your friend anymore” and thinking “I can decide who my friends are for myself, thanks”... but I was cheeky that way. Its opposite, “I'll be your best friend” was even stupider--Not if I don't decide that for myself, you won't.

Seriously... I HAVE unfriended people, but nobody I know in person, and ONLY when they attack my friends in my space after I ask them not to. I really try to maintain a courtesy rule. Whatever you want to express—you be your fabulous self in your space. In the rare case it offends me, I will HIDE someone. (which I've done like twice ever—more often I just hide the offending post). In MY space, I will moderate as I can—gentle reminders that I care about everybody present and expect civility, even in disagreement... and if someone I KNOW can't follow those rules, they won't see my posts anymore, but through hiding, not unfriending... that simple. (If I don't know someone in person, this level of maintenance is not worth it)

Now on this front, I think I may have accidentally unfriended at some point—hell, it's just a click... and I KNOW Facebook has glitched and unfriended me from people. I ALSO have people I talk to regularly that I think I'm friends with, only to discover all our conversations are on other people's posts. So there is PLENTY of reason to NOT point a finger if you notice you aren't friends with somebody and you WERE (or thought you were). Don't assume they unfriended you and get all pissy. You can either just go with the flow or ask. I have two high school friends I notice I've ended up 'unfriended from' and think maybe I offended their politics... but I ALSO think it may have been one of these other things, so I have never had a fit... if they say something on somebody else's post, I respond appropriately—liking, laughing, responding...


In short... I may be the naked chick, but there is no reason to stir up drama. Life is just too short to get worked up over superficial, silly stuff.

If you DON'T want it to bite you in the ass in the future, chances are you should keep it to comments on OTHER people's posts *shifty *

But seriously... public is public... people will remember us by how we handle ourselves. I will NEVER be a person capable of being 'strictly professional' but it can't hurt to err on the side of always being kind, or at the very least, polite.

Never Surrender Blogfest

First, I want to say that I am ALSO over at Play it off the Page today sharing with Mary all the sneaksy ways I infused The Azalea Assault with Humor.


In honor of Elana Johnson's book release for Surrender (released June 5th, same day as mine!  Makes Alana and I book sisters, yes?), she is holding a blogfest called NEVER Surrender

All we have to do is SOME time this week (June 11 to 16th) talk about a time we refused to surrender. And today is my day...

And this is where we get to the TMI portion of my blog. I haven't over-revealed for a while now, have I? It's probably about due...

Because I am ONE STUBBORN GIRL and I really never surrender on ANYTHING. And when a person has that personality, it sort of is just par for the course—that not surrendering thing. But when I think about the time that took EVERYTHING I HAD... yeah. That one. So here it is...

I am going to have to be a little cryptic, because the involvement of MY stubbornness and MY will does NOT make this all MY story, and the OTHER person involved would not be even remotely amused to be the center of this. But this is really the time—the one that for me, in all my life, stands out. (excuse the grammar stuff to remain gender neutral--they, while inaccurate, is a lot less cumbersome than 'he or she')


I love someone who went a little crazy. Okay. A lot crazy. They were in my daily life and they were falling apart. And it wasn't MY stuff, it was THEIR stuff, so I felt really really helpless. I loved them and it wasn't enough for them to want to do anything to make their life better. Their CHILD was not enough for them to want to make their life better.

There were suicide attempts. Apparently five of them, but when I heard... the first time I heard... I called the local hospital and tracked down the local triage for this and I had them arrested. I committed them to save their life, knowing they might hate me forever for causing them to be dragged off in handcuffs and institutionalized. Hardest thing I've ever done, and I am crying thinking about it. Walking out with the police I received a cold stare. “I can't believe you did this.”

But it worked. They got cleaned up, got on medication. Life has not been a bowl of cashews since... there has been a lot of work and some lapses in sanity, but it has NEVER gotten this bad again. I was not willing to just LET THEM give up on themselves. Life is good. Life is worth living. And if I have to lock you up to prove it, dammit, I will.

Have you had a moment that called on everything you had? Where the consequences of surrender would have been too high to take?

Go check out the other entries, too!

Sunday, Scary Sunday

So some of you may have noticed my total absence the last two days. And not just from here, but from Facebook and anywhere else. We've had a wee emergency... or not wee. In fact it what pretty darned scary.

source

HWMNBMOTI (he who must not be mentioned on the internet, for the uninitiated) had what seemed like the flu Saturday... except in retrospect the vomit was the wrong color (TMI, right? But read anyway, as I had NO CLUE how important this might be)--it was coffee colored and mucousy. When his DIET had NOT been. (that is the clue to remember--coffee colored).

Then he seemed flu-ee all day—fever, sweats, chills... He vomited... I guess 3 more times... only once more in a place I had to clean it up... yup... still coffee colored... as was the bowel stuff—black and tarry. (as in... like tar). Ick.

And then on Sunday morning.... okay, we get to the real TMI part... with a 5 am bowel movement he could no longer stand—nearly lost consciousness... Called for me, I called the ambulance, as he couldn't get up...

We spent all Sunday morning in the ER... he was bleeding SOMEWHERE in his digestive system... A LOT (this would be the CAUSE of coffee-colored vomit and/or black tarry stool--so you KNOW.... They estimated he lost 1/3 of his blood--through this GI bleed. But FINDING FROM WHERE is another matter. They flushed fluids in then out of the stomach (through a tube in the nose *shivers*) and can see what is there... initially it was the black flaky of dried blood but by the time they get him all poked and prodded and moved up to critical care it was red... so the bleed was either stomach or upper GI...

They did a scope and FOUND it (upper intestine near the duodenum)--a clot they thought was over an aspirin induced ulcer—they clipped the clot (twice) to stop the places it was leaking blood. But they WEREN'T sure that was the only internal injury—though his numbers have all stabilized.

They moved him from critical care to a regular hospital room yesterday, but will keep him at least another day.

So my apologies for not getting around like I should yesterday and Sunday—I will try to catch up. And apologies for my absence. But as you all know, sometimes life takes over.

HWMNBMOTI has a VERY good prognosis, though I am a little nervous as to whether they resolved it... it's highly likely the next few flu episodes will send us to urgent care, just to avoid this.

Anyway, that's where I've been and why I've been scarce. I will work hard to catch up, as tomorrow I have a special guest (February Grace) and want her to get the full attention she deserves.

So there you have it... my excuses, regrets, and pleas to not hold it against me or my guests. I will get back to normal (for me) shortly.

Youthful Rebellion.

It's TMI Tuesday...

So the latest CD in the car that all three drivers agree on is Airborne Toxic Event, and it has got me thinking... Well to start, maybe I should give you the lyrics

Airborn Toxic Event

from: The Kids Are Ready to Die

...
but punks like us we were always receiving instruction
and you could burn our cloths you could wash out the ink and the dye
but you can't look me in the eye and say you don't feel like a little destruction
and the kids are lining up on the wall and they're ready to die
...

and from: It Doesn't Mean a Thing

…
Now my dad says fuck the details
Just keep your head down hard
Ya got to find yourself alone before you'll find the eyes of God
You make broke and scared and out of jail
Out the flesh of your own heartstrings
But you were born to be a peasant not a king
So just stop acting like your running from something
Ya gonna leave the way you came without a thing
With your heart tattooed and your mind tied to a string
…


This all reminded me a little of The Living End, an Australian band I got very into because of one of my Aussie friends. Songs like Prisoner of Society...

And THAT got me thinking about punk... Punk was a rebel movement—labor class kids in England when labor JOBS had all but died... when hope was hard to come by. And so the music rebelled.


Which in the roundabout way things go in my head, got me thinking of rebellion in general. And rebellion of youth, specifically... and the eras in which youth rebelling have been so enormously prominent.

You see them across the world. And sometimes they are squashed (China, in Tiananmen Square), but sometimes they triumph. What I am most familiar with though, is US history.

I'm not sure we had rebellious youth en masse until the 50s. And I believe, though I have only really studied via pop culture, that part of what led to that was the relative comfort of the middle class... there was CRAVING for that among poorer kids, and TIME on their hands never seen before among the privileged... time to take up a cause maybe they didn't NEED. There were the greasers because that was the option... and the greasers because that was the culture... because THAT seemed to be the road to the future (independence, forward momentum).

This happened again in the late 60s with the peace, love, drugs stuff. This particular movement was actually not unrelated to the availability of birth control (free love being freed of permanent consequences and all), but was also related to the civil rights movement (a belief all people deserved representation) and protest against a war the young were fighting on behalf of the decision makers.

And then somewhere in there, young people lost the purpose of their rebellion. Rebellion became an individual or small group activity. Substance use (which admittedly always was a part) or clothes, but nothing meaningful or ideological. I mean the bigger movements weren't gone—I remember marching against Apartheid in college. But it didn't ever take on the entire young population again. WHY?

I have some theories:

1) The consumer age. During the Reagan Administration credit got cheaper and was given freely, even to college students (I was offered my first charge card in high school—just a Bon Marche card, but I have a suspicion I was the first generation who got it. Then in college, as a junior with no income, I was offered a Visa. Sure, it was only a $500 limit, but ALSO... debt with no income!? GADS!

What this really meant though, was an ease of the pang of want. People are less dissatisfied if they can buy their toys.

2) End of the draft. If the armed services are all voluntary, then the MASSES of young people no longer have to yell and scream when people are sent to war. I mean HECK, they signed on for it.

3) War funded on credit, starting with Reagan, instead of the entire population having to tighten their belts to pay for war we just charge it. This means that the population broadly barely notices. Now while there wasn't a major war between the Vietnam war and the first Iraq one, believe me, there was a heavy stream of military activity: Nicaragua, El Salvador... plus that bloody cold war that cost so much.


So with 30 years of nothing to do because we've been sedated with stuff and asked to give up nothing, we are out of practice. And worse, our kids have never SEEN protest. So at this time when they really should be fired up and fighting for their future, they are largely MIA. I find this sad.

I also hold the opinion that anybody who has never rebelled against something lacks critical thinking skills. If life falls into line, it means either lack of exposure to varied opinions, or lack of engagement in mental activity. Because everybody encounters something they disagree with at their core that comes from someone in authority--a parent, an education system, a religious institution, a government.  Both lack of exposure and lack of evaluation are dangerous, so I hope any children you have rebel at some point against SOMETHING. (that is a blessing, not a curse)

Who Cares?

It's TMI Tuesday, so I thought I'd talk about this very strange phenomenon of WHO CARES about our writing. I shared my 3 month anticipation post yesterday, and posted it not only to my writing profile, but also my personal profile on Facebook.

The very very COOL thing is that actually a LOT of people seem to care... Friends. Family. Nice notes. People I only knew very peripherally once upon a time. In fact there are people who seem to have known me that I didn't know hardly at all... people I know names for but for whom it never occurred to me it went the other direction. My policy on FB is first and second degree friends for my personal profile—if people know me, or are friends with a friend of mine... I even have a few writer friends I bonded more tightly with—people I've known long enough to establish some trust.

So I felt really really loved yesterday. Hugged and cozy. I loved it.

But there are also the absent... Now I get that not everybody is on Facebook every day. There are people I've been friends with forever who seem completely oblivious, even though they ARE around a lot. I don't feel any fear they will stumble in HERE. I am clearly not on their radar. But how much effort is a freaking 'like' when you see someone post really good news?

A couple of my high school friends have sent me personal notes—email. And I don't begrudge them at all. They aren't online much. But if you ARE online?

I can't help but get a little paranoid that either my nudity or my politics have alienated people.

Now I have a LOT of non-naked or politically incompatible friends—heck, I grew up in Idaho where my politics fit not even a TINY bit. But in OH-so-many cases we can argue civilly, agree to disagree, or stick to other topics. They are great people.

On the not-interested, though... I mean maybe they aren't interested in writing... I get that. No. I don't get that. But... so here's an example. I have some friends who craft. Scrap-booking or jewelry making. I don't do that. And the scrap-booking, in particular, I'm not that interested in. It is one of those super-mom traits that missed me entirely. But if one of my friends was... putting on her own SHOW or something... or had sold a pattern (does that fit—I am a little clueless here)--but you can tell what the successes are, yeah? I could BOTHER to hit the freaking LIKE button. I would recognize it as big in their area of interest, and therefore to be applauded.

Am I being a bitch? I am not holding anything against ANYBODY who says 'yay' every once in a while. I know not everybody sees everything I post. But never? Do I have bad breath? Am I being annoying? Boring?

*cough*

So there is my little Tuesday mini-rant.

Slut Love

I figured TMI Tuesday falling on Valentine’s Day was a sign I ought to talk a little bit about my philosophy on love, sex, relationships, and values. So you’ve gotten a reprieve from Jungle Rot… You may want to hold off on rejoicing just yet though.



All That Purity Nonsense

I know there are a lot of people clinging to those Puritan values and all, and if you’re one of them, more power to you… which is to say, more to go around for the rest of us, eh?

I am not quite sure where my feminist leanings got their first big fuel burst, but it was well before I was political, and before my religious leanings got an overhaul from their Presbyterian roots. Basically I figured if BOYS are allowed to admit they like this stuff, what is wrong with GIRLS admitting it?

Now I ‘get’ the ‘save it so I have something to give my spouse’ thing on some level. But there is a conflict here… I don’t think anybody should wait until age 30 to become sexually active, or you end up stunted on that front (IMHO), but I ALSO don’t think people should be making such an important decision as who to spend FOREVER with until about that time. And I think the consequences of becoming sexually active pre-marriage are a lot less severe than marrying in the late teens or early 20s. People that age have no business making that kind of decision.

*cough*

And don’t you know… I had a boy or two in my past where things got… you know… intense… the first time I met them… and later they would act as if somehow I’D done something wrong. HELLO. I was not the only one there. Why do these goons think THEY get a pass, but I don’t? That definitely fueled that inner feminist and my belief that what is good for the gander is great for the goose. (even goosing)

Manipulation versus Honesty

See, the OTHER thing that has always really bothered me is the simultaneous attempt to woo and hold at bay of a potential lover. A person who WANTS intimacy but pretends not to because they are holding out for a long-term offer is just dishonest in my opinion. And I hold the value of HONESTY far above some silly notion of ‘virtue’. In fact the virtues I care about ARE honesty and integrity. NOT chastity.


Now I don’t mean to disrespect anybody who has made different choices or whose values line up differently. I’m just saying it isn’t in me to pretend I agree. I think that is what we all need to do—be honest with ourselves about what is important and why, and try to live that way.



Sluts are NICE

You know... people who really LIKE everyone, even if they are also willing to sleep with everyone, are really more fun to hang out with than uptight people. I mean I GET that some people are nice withOUT the slutty thing going, but I haven't met many self-righteous people who are all that nice. They are too busy judging everyone else for not living by their standard. Live and let live, I say. So long as people aren't intentionally hurting each other.


Yeah, I’d rather live with aspersions of ‘slut’, ‘tramp’, or ‘tart’, than 'proper', 'classy', or ‘tease’. (though my value of not hurting people DOES mean monogamy… so anymore, this is all just in theory).


So there you have it. More than you ever wanted to know about me...

Beautiful Bitch

For my first foray into TMI Tuesday, I thought I'd confess something to you, and then give you a little background...

This is my definition of a fabulous figure

Had I been drop-dead gorgeous—slimmer of form, better boobage, maybe a little less 'cute' and more elegant (or better yet, exotic)—I think I might have been a raging bitch.

Where do I come by this thought? Well it is a little philosophy and a little self awareness. Let me e'plain... I will start with the self-awareness bit...


My Own Personal Hedonism

I really LIKE things I like. I like good food, to be wined and dined, to have someone play music for me or write me poems. I like presents. And I particularly like to be the center of attention to as many people as possible. [um... that's not something I am supposed to admit, is it?] But, there. I said it. (I mean what OTHER sort of person would be leading a quest for World Domination? It's not like I've been leading you on as some shrinking violet—though I do LIKE violet... or any shade of purple, but never mind.)

See... aren't I grand? *shifty*

My Imbalanced Sense of Worth

You know how some people can't take a compliment? That's not me. Whenever I've had times people told me wonderful things about myself, I inevitably believe I'm deserving. Oh, sure. I might blush a little. But I don't doubt it. I think this is the only child in me. Only children have more socialization from adults than other children, and adults are often generous in telling children how clever they are. Is it my fault I believed them? And if that will to believe has followed me forward?


Now I was always a sensitive child. I don't think I would have ever been outwardly mean. When I saw people experience that, I felt bad for them. I don't like mean people and I just don't think I'd be MEAN. But as a kid I did, a couple times, stand by while my friends picked on someone else—usually we'd all participated in deciding the person deserved it—it was usually the 'take down a peg' of someone we thought was behaving stuck-up. (None of us picked on anyone 'socially downward'--which sounds bitchy in itself, but every middle school kid understands the hierarchy to some degree. We weren't the MOST popular, but a few among us (who were not me) were actually pretty close up there)

Nobody every talks about the GOOD side of peer pressure.

But the Biggie is my philosophy on NURTURE... Or more specifically, Peer Socialization

Or what I sometimes call the strange case of Sirius Black. See, for most of us, we want to be WITH people, and if we act like asses, people DON'T want to be near US. This trains us to be a little less ass-like. But BEAUTIFUL people draw us ANYWAY. We believe ourselves to be more beautiful just by rubbing up. We tolerate from them things we would not tolerate in others. And so unless they have EXTRAORDINARY parents or the very very rare case of very sweet temperament... and I shouldn't say it is so rare. I've known a few beauties who were wonderfully kind. They tended to be shy or very gregarious.

But the point is, I don't happen to believe I had one of those natures. And while my mom nurtured that 'be kind' thing, I don't think I got the 'care about others' quite as strongly just because we were such a small little cluster at home. So my peers were necessary... they never ostracized me, but the FEAR that if I behaved badly... you see what I mean...

Resorting to Memes

I think you all know my mind has been scattered of late... there are reasonable reasons, but that doesn't make the chaos any less. I've decided in the short term, I think playing with a couple memes might be the way to go.

How is it possible I didn't think of this...

I'm not normally a meme girl. What. What's that? Are there people who don't know what memes ARE? (Is that even possible?) Well, for anyone unsure, a meme is a day of the week theme... We do them at Burrowers, Books and Balderdash, though there I think it's easier as we have eight of us, so we each only hit a given meme about once every other month.

But I've been thinking maybe that memes might help me make some sense of the madness in my life and head. I only plan to do this through February and March, as I know my attention span is limited and so that is probably as much as I can do on one topic without running out of steam, so to speak...

And I only plan to do the memes a couple days a week as I am not very good with rules and know I will have OTHER things I want to write about. So without further ado... here are the themes you can expect for the next little while:

TMI Tuesday

You know me. TMI is really a lifestyle choice. So I will rant, share, spew, spill and whine... but only on Tuesday. Mostly.



Weighty Wednesday (except on the first Wednesday)

The couch to keg program is back on. And I really need to seriously get to the eating thing...

Arriba! Arriba! Andale!

And finally, Friday Fiesta

I am going to TRY (and this isn't my strength, so bear with me) to keep track of my friends' successes and throw a little party for them—a raw raw if you will for the successes I see over the week. (I'd LOVE if you'd all help me out here—email me or leave a post here if you spot a success among our blogging community. My attention span is too short and I will surely miss a lot without the help.

So that's the plan. BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

*cough *

Breathe

And just when I thought I saw the birds circling that must mean an island was near...

Health issues, not my own, are determined to sideline me. I am trying to plug away, but I am currently spending a few hours a day being more nurturing than comes naturally, because let's face it: I am an only child in addition to being a fire horse and only children who are also fire horses do NOT nurture all that easily, no matter how badly they want to. But our household is in high crisis mode and once again, I've been nominated to be the sane one.

My ABNA project: cover by Joris Ammerlaan

I'm starting to question this decision to stay sane, but the truth of it is, somebody has to be. Story of my life. Seriously.

And THAT looks like a big whiny baby plea for sympathy. It only is a little. Mostly it is explanation for why, intentions aside, I got nowhere yesterday and can't make promises for a couple days. I am taking time off of work to get a plan established, which means when I AM at work I need to work like I am on deadline. (and when I am NOT at work, I am largely NOT online).

And I STILL have manuscripts to edit. So I may or may not blog regularly for the next couple weeks... and I probably will remain slow on getting around. I feel so guilty on the matter, but it is what it is.


On the positive side, I got my 3 chapters to my editor that were DUE. Hopefully she likes them. (I have to do the rest of the book, but am pretty sure I can have a little time there... not a lot, but a little).

Also on the positive side, I have a version of LEGACY entered in ABNA. It isn't the version I want in there, but I didn't want to lose my spot, and until it closes, I can revise, so replacing with 'best available' every few days is my plan. This is one of the MSs I am editing...


Also Also on the positive side... in fact on the SQUEEEEE side... I got book cover samples which include all the back cover copy!!!! Check it out!

And because it's hard to read:

Roanoke, Virginia, is home to some of the country's most exquisite gardens, and it's Camellia Harris's job to promote them. But when an out-of-towner turns up dead, she discovers there is no good way to spin murder.

Camellia Harris has achieved a coup in the PR world. The premiere national magazine for garden lovers has agreed to feature one of Roanoke's most spectacular gardens in its pages—and world-famous photographer Jean-Jacques Georges is going to shoot the spread. But at the welcoming party, Jean-Jacques insults several guests, complains that flowers are boring, and gooses almost every woman in the room. When a body is found the next morning, sprawled across the azaleas, it's almost no surprise that the victim is Jean-Jacques.


With Cam's brother-in-law blamed for the crime—and her reporter boyfriend, Rob, wanting the scoop—Cam decides to use her skills to solve the murder. Luckily a PR pro like Cam knows how to be nosy...



So there it is... the silver lining. No worries... I am hanging in there. I always do. Just feeling a little pouty at the moment that life refuses to fall into line with my nefarious plans...

Stress Response...

So yesterday afternoon I got a call... HWMNBMOTI's number... not him. It was my wonderful Couch to Keg partner... she was at my house because she'd been asked to help... HWMNBMOTI was having dizzy spells... thought he needed an ambulance.

Crap.

So I said I'd meet him at the hospital (I work for the Med School, so it is just a string of buildings away).

Call 5 minutes later. Same number. PANICKED daughter... sobbing, scared... 'Dad has to go to the hospital'.

“I know sweetheart, but then they will figure out what it is and fix it.”

So I headed over and met him at the emergency room as the ambulance arrived.

His vitals were all stable and the ER was PACKED so we had to wait a fair while. I could tell he was anxious—wondering what was taking so long. But he was also worried about our upset daughter at home. He had me go call and check in, but she was even MORE upset then because he hadn't gotten in to see the doctor yet.

We finally got him in there and the nurse asked a ton of questions, measured all the things he needed to measure, but HWMNBMOTI was getting progressively MORE anxious. He insisted I go home to check on our daughter. So I called daughter (she has a car through a research project and since I walk to work and HWMNBMOTI arrived by ambulance, I was without, so I had her meet me back at my office to give me a ride home.

As it turns out, the treatable disorder is an upper respiratory infection. He was given a few rounds of breathing treatments, prescriptions, and a long list of instructions (including that he had to quit smoking from each of the 47 people who came through his cube). But the dizziness had been a confluence of 3-12 hour days without eating hardly anything, low sleep, a head cold and because of the cold an increased use of his inhaler which can CAUSE dizziness.

He will be fine. Hopefully this is the butt kicking he needed to really quit smoking. He quit two years ago for 3 months, but hadn't tried again since.


What I wanted to note though, was this:


[begin Digression] last week one of our neighbors came over—she'd just gotten home and there was a bicyclist sprawled across the road unconscious. (it was icy, and an apparent bike wreck) HWMNBMOTI went out to check. The man came to—a neighbor, but he was disoriented (and bleeding from a large head wound). He didn't know who HWMNBMOTI was or what day or year it was. He kept trying to wander off, but HMNBMOTI talked him into waiting for the ambulance.[/end digression]

The point of that was how CALM he stayed. He helped the neighbor and told the ambulance people everything he knew, called around to find out if any other neighbors knew how to contact any relatives, as he lives alone. He's really great in a crisis.

Unless it's his crisis. When it is HIM, he gets panicky, and I learned, he and my daughter feed off each other badly. He's worried about her but she's only worried because of how upset he is... but it spirals into both of them panicking.

[note: she is lifeguard and CPR trained and at school has actually helped a fellow student having a seizure and near her work called an ambulance for a person who really seemed disoriented who was hovering outside—she is good in a crisis, TOO, normally]

But that feeding off each other was HUGE.

Now me, I am hard to rattle. But I am also pretty darned useless. I don't know what to do, don't carry a cell phone, so can't call directly. I've been known to knock on doors and ask someone else to call and to stay with someone who has something happen, but I KNOW NOTHING.

Yet had I been home, I would have insisted on driving (no ambulance) and going to Urgent Care (not the ER)--I probably could have talked hubby down a little. I am a person who tends to downplay things though, so maybe that is a lot of it. I am optimistic to the point of delusional and just assume things can't be THAT bad.

So how are you? Are you good in a crisis? Bad? Does it depend on who is hurt? Do you know what you're doing?

Twelve True Confessions

So FIRST I want to give a few celebratory shout outs... Happy Winter Solstice to Y'all! It is a holiday MEANT for nudity because that is how one communes with nature and moonlight. It's a special one, too—how often is there a lunar eclipse on the winter solstice? Maybe it will open an era of enlightenment if enough people JUST GET NAKED! (it can't hurt, yeah?)

[side note... solstice really WAS originally about enlightenment... in a way... as the shortest day of the year in the northern hemisphere, the daylight hours begin to grow... it only gets lighter from here.]

And it is ALSO the BIRTHDAY of my fabulous friend Jan (who I know supports the nudist movement and just yesterday posted pictoral proof she was one with trees, so it all goes together, see...) So be sure to go over and wish Jan a Happy Birthday, and PROMISE HER you will get naked to celebrate the solstice the way it was meant to be.



So in honor... a little soul baring...

1...Michael from The Office (US version) makes me actively hostile. Like I want to scream or choke somebody. That kind of ignorance is not amusing. Ever. Yet my family all loves the show. I am subjected to it regularly. If you ever see me online acting like a real bitch, it is because somebody at my house is watching The Office.

2...At age 11 I had a deep and abiding Shaun Cassidy crush. My entire bedroom wall was covered in posters, mostly torn from the center of Tiger Beat Magazine. When my aunt had a baby (her second) and couldn't think of a boy's name, she asked me and I suggested Shaun. She didn't want it, but DID go for Andy (suggested for Andy Gibb—a second choice crush who had fabulously sent back an autographed picture to my friend Peggy—Peg, you still have that Andy Gibb pic?--you've been OUTED by the way). By 7th grade celebrity crushes were no longer cool. I don't know if my friends gave them up earnestly or not. I only went into hiding.

3...I had pet rats as a kid and have maintained a soft spot for most rodents (in fact pretty much all but the sewer rat and the ROUS). My uncle, to raise a little money, used to breed white lab rats and so I had a stream of them as pets. They typically lived about a year, but I had one that lived about three (which according to Harry Potter and the pet store worker at the Magical Menagerie is about normal). Not one of them ever turned into a beady-eyed traitorous man, but BELIEVE ME, I felt Ron's shock when it happened to him.

4...The primary theme to the second book of my trilogy was largely inspired by the Offspring Song 'You're Gunna Go Far Kid'. It is pretty much about a kid who joins a group of art thieves because he thinks they will lead to his mother who's been abducted, but he undergoes a sort of Stockholm Syndrome transformation while he's with them.

5...When I was 21 there was a Grateful Dead Lost Weekend where I tried 'magic mushrooms'. In my trip I was 'living the book I was writing'... meaning in my head I was only writing the book as we actually did everything. Yeah... it doesn't make much sense without the drugs... It was a helluva weekend though. And I somehow think only a writer would think it was more fun WRITING about it than doing it...



6...I was a slow reader as a kid—it just was hard for me. And I didn't particularly LIKE it... I was sure it would never be my thing but in 4th grade the teachers split the classes for reading and math into high and low... I was put in high of both (for math, I belonged there) but my teacher would not let me move to low reading. She insisted I was capable but not applying myself. I worked. It got a little better. And then a little better. And then a little better. A couple years ago I had the chance to thank Mrs. Burnham for not letting me quit—she was the teacher who made me believe I was smart. That made her cry.

7...I REALLY REALLY have always wanted to have a paranormal experience... see a ghost... have a vision... even have a spooky feeling turn out to be true... but you know what? NOT. A. STITCH. I am (sadly) completely grounded in the here and now. Whatever that inner eye is... me and Hermione are in the same place. I had a neighbor though, who said there was a woman who hung out with my husband... when she described the woman, Mr. Tart said it sounded like his mom. I wonder if she followed us to Michigan.

8...I still have some clothes from high school. *shifty* Not a lot... a couple t-shirts... leg-warmers... (yes, I still wear them)... erm... did I mention I graduated high school in 1984?

9...My first novel I tried to REALLY WRITE (as opposed to minor plotting and maybe a chapter) was HORROR and based on a computer game I had for my Macintosh... The game was called Creepy Castle... Man I had fun... Had I known how the thing ended, I might have even come back to it.

10...I had a really major earring fetish in high school and college. You know... the handy thing about a fetish like that is people always know what to get you for gifts, so I still have a large collection of very cool earrings... funny... anymore I only have a couple pairs I wear that often... Still, I love to have them.

11...I first emerged as a nudist at age 2. I hated being WET. Mom says I was very easy to potty train. But we had a kiddie pool at our duplex... I would get in the water, sit, stand up, remove my suit, and then sit again to play. None of that wet fabric nonsense for ME! I was first DUBBED a nudist by my friend Candy in high school, probably because she knew I preferred to SLEEP naked. I didn't actually EMBRACE being a nudist (erm... other than the sleeping and the skinny dipping parts) until the formation of the Naked World Domination Tour some four or five years ago...

12...My mom has made 'near snuggies' for my kids... two fleece blankets sewn together... I am sitting in one now...

So there. Now you know my deepest secrets...

The Ivy Wars

The day started soupy, the air it was moist.
The Tart woke up early, to blog was her choice.
Thing One, she was needy; it always is true.
And shopping was needed, the right thing to do.

Then mother and daughter, watched some vamps on TV.
True Blood had been borrowed, episodes four and three.
Dinner was uneventful, though Thing One had a date.
Then the Tart got to typing, because the Cozy is late.

Not long after dinner, Mr. Tart gave a shout:
“I chopped down the Ivy.” The Tart was put out.
There ensued strings of cursing, and a trip to buy rum.
He's lucky she's a pacifist, Or it would have been a gun.

**********

You see... Mr. Tart and I have a deep philosophical disparity where 'growing things' are concerned... He likes thing neat and tidy. Like this:  (note:  it remains unclear where the income for such a garden would come from as he seems to be unwilling to make up the difference between 'barely making it'--the Tart's contribution, and this high life.)

Where I like to let things GO a little and see what kind of magic might happen:



But this battle of the pruning shears is old. My first recollection of it was with the Arbivida in Portland. Our house, at each corner (and because of the shape of the house, there were several) had arbivida... He wasn't overly fond, but I liked having something to break up the lines that was always green. Then one day he gets this pruning wild hair and they all ended up looking like Q-tips. GRRRRRRRRR!

One does NOT treat a shrubbery like poodles!

Erm.... unless that's the look you are going for, but no arbivida in history has ever pulled this off...



That was not the ONLY other episode of assault on greenery... there have been endless greenery assaults over the years (the butterfly bush ambush... the wonky pine assault...)... BUT THIS IS WAR!

The north side of our house has been home to Ivy—completely covering all of it (including, usually, the windows) but it has personality and LIFE. My husband gripes that it is bad for the mortar. Mortar, schmortar, I say! If I planned on living here 50 years, I might worry more. But the fact is, in 10 years, I plan to be obscenely wealthy, so I will REPAIR the blasted mortar before we buy our tropical island. Erm... or not... but I DO hold strongly to the belief that LIFE is about beauty and comfort, not about the freaking mortar. (not to mention I don't believe this is the kind of Ivy that IS hard on the mortar—it is on every University building in town, and I really doubt they would be so cavalier.) My REAL issue, is not being consulted. AT ALL. About him tearing away the life and personality of a place because he likes things 'neat'.

So until further notice, Mr. Tart is in the dog house. So there.  And next year... to get even... I'm planting BLACKBERRIES!  BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The Deuce Gets Mooned

I should probably explain 'The Deuce' first. See, I live in a big town fulla GEEKS (of which I am proudly one) and Ann Arbor gets shortened to A² (A Squared) all the time—it's extremely convenient for things like the corner of envelopes or writing somebody directions. Well the local teens have just ignored the 'A' thing altogether and have focused on the TWO and so Ann Arbor becomes the Deuce.

I know you've heard me talk about reality never coming here before, but SURReality seems to make a show now and again, as it did with whip guy and the chicken people. Well this week we've had a big dose of it.

You may KNOW that Sunday and Monday were this months full moon night—if you were a werewolf, I'm not sure if your third night transforming would have been Saturday or last night, but I am VERY clear about the two... Let me e'splain.



Mental Health Central

I'm going to be a little obtuse here, for the sake of privacy, but one of my daughter's friends had a mental health crisis this week and chose HER to reach out to. She in turn reached out to me and I made a call to the mom who had actually just been pulled in by the teen, so all's well that ends well, but it was a sort of scary event.

What I DO want to share, that I can't emphasize strongly enough, is that while some teens really DO need medication for very REAL mental health issues, the warning about teens and anti-depressants—and suicidal thoughts and tendencies, need to be taken VERY seriously. A teen who needs them is a teen who ALREADY HAS some issues, but no matter HOW STABLE they seem, no matter HOW MUCH things appear to have been improved, they need monitoring, communication, and a support system.

This is NOT her first friend this has happened with. It's REAL. Resort to meds only after behavioral and cognitive things have been tried, and then WATCH CAREFULLY and open up lines of trust.

Nuff said.



Crime Spree

Then, Monday night, my son and his friend come home for dinner at about six, leave their bikes (son actually rides MY bike, as he kept blowing out his Scwinn brakes) in the front yard and come in to eat. Twenty minutes later, my bike is gone. Somebody walked up into our front yard in BROAD FREAKING DAYLIGHT and stole my bike! This is Ann Arbor—things like this don't HAPPEN here!

And worse...

I went downtown around seven o'clock to pick up my daughter who'd been hanging out with friends and on the way home, three houses from home, she points out a 'tussle' of some sort. “What do you think is going on there?”

There is a struggle, a fight of some sort—physical, and it looks like the bigger person is trying to choke the smaller one. My car gets closer, as we have to drive right by, and I stop and yell, “Hey, do you need help over there?”

The pair break apart a little, the woman jerks free, stumbles a little (pretty sure she's high), and the guy says, “It's none of your business.”

I respond, “You can't just assault somebody. I'm calling the police,” as the girl stumbles off down the street.

I get home, call the police, describe what I saw. Hubby, who'd been talking to the neighbor thinks I've called about the bike, “sheesh, no—I called about the ASSAULT IN PROGRESS. I totally FORGOT about the bike.”

So hubby proceeds to do his Gladys Kravtiz thing, walks around talking to neighbors, warning the little old ladies to keep their garages closed (for the bike thief) and asks a couple questions. He found two OTHER people who'd witnessed this assault and CALLED the police, plus a young woman who saw but hadn't been sure what to do. The assault moved down the street a little (in the construction lane of what normally is one of the Deuce's busiest streets- and the police took 30 freaking minutes to arrive—had the been even ten minutes earlier, it still would have been going on.

So I'm ANNOYED at the slow response—that girl could have been raped or dead by the time they got there. I SUSPECT they thought the people would disappear into the woods and be hard to find, but WORRY that it sounded like a domestic dispute and they figured it would work itself out. Hello, NO!

I know there are people who might think a woman on drugs gets what she deserves, but I happen to think people who think that deserve a little time in a jail cell with a big guy named Bubba. Nobody deserves violence. Ever.

So that was OUR little excitement. Anybody else have any full moon stories to report?

Dark Tart/Light Tart

Y'all have heard me grumble about my crabby hubby from time to time, yeah? You know he can be difficult? I had a big giant reminder this week as to WHY such a light hearted, happy-go-lucky gal as myself might choose such a person as a partner... let me e'splain...

Dark and Mysterious Leanings

I've mentioned before that though I am drawn a little like Barbie's flat-chested little sister, I prefer to think of myself as more of a Vixen, a Wench, a... yes, I'll say it, a TART. I don't CARE that I don't look the part, I crave sexy, naughty and shocking as part of my identity. I will NOT behave, and I refuse to let YOU without doing my darndest to make sure you know this other way is more fun. So there.

I even like a little DRAMA, though I prefer the variety that can be put on and taken off over the kind that sort of buries you.  Because over all, I'm relatively HAPPY, and like to stay that way...

Mistreating the Nice Guy

Since I don't look the part though (the Vixen-Tart), I have periodically attracted NICE guys. And here is where we get to my reminder...

I didn't really have a 'boy friend' in high school, per se—oh there were BOYS, and I went on dates, and there were the normal hanky-panky things, but the things that were emotionally serious, were NOT exclusive or monogamous. See, I was typically drawn to the BAD BOYS who didn't go in for that sort of thing.

Get to college and I met a very cute, very NICE boy who was interested in more, and it was a time when I was sort of craving something more committed. And it took, and we spent all our time together, and it was really pretty wonderful until my dark corners started demanding attention.  I'd learned some of my naughty lessons from those bad boys, and had internalized them...

Turns out if the PARTNER I choose isn't dark and dangerous, maybe I will make up for the fact. I wasn't very nice in the end... not admirable or worthy of someone who deserved to be treated better. That craving for drama? Oh yeah... I can create it.

I've mentioned I'm a collector, yes? If a person is ever in my life they are FOREVER in my life (including all of you--you know that, right?)—and it's true. At my wedding I had four exes of assorted seriousness. But until this week, this nice boy from college was the exception. He'd cut me off (and deservedly so). But this week, just when I was so irritated with Mr. Darkness, I got a friend request on facebook for the nice guy... reminding me conclusively why I NEEDED to be married to someone DARK. Because otherwise it would be me.



The Sane One

In my marriage there have been some lousy times (and some wonderful ones, but it is the lousy ones I'm writing about, as they are more pertinent to my point—yes, there's a point). I have sometimes wanted to fall apart—wanted to melt down or have fits. But you see, in a family, somebody has to be the SANE one. I've noticed, reading other people's blogs—hearing other people's stories, that SOMETIMES that sanity role falls on the kids and my heart goes out to those people—it isn't fair and is too heavy a burden. Thus far though, in my own life, I've managed to be the sane one.  Had I MARRIED the sane one, I might be the nut (or more likely the drunk)--whatever the case... it falls to me to create the BALANCE.



The Writing Outlet

I LOVE this idea in literature... sane people who suddenly have the leeway to fall apart... people who might otherwise fall apart but the situation demands they hold it together for a while... situational sanity interests me greatly.  As does the balance in a family... the character holding it together while things fall apart around her.

I also like that writing now affords me a channel for my darkness. I didn't used to have this on the same level (in fact with the college boyfriend I quit writing, as he wanted to READ everything and was very disturbed when the darkness showed), so I had to make up for it in LIFE, but NOW, I can just write the darkness. Not sure my hubby has gotten the message yet--that he no longer needs to be my darkness and can just be happy and nice now, but I see moments of sanity, so hopefully he will get there...

XOXOXOX Y'ALL!

So I thought it had been a while since I'd been serious, but when I examine the letter X, there is only so much I've got to work with. That is topped off by me finally having to pay the piper for thinking I had a free day to NOT do a letter, when in fact I didn't, as tomorrow is a (very Xciting) guest blogger, so Friday is Z... So I am covering X and Y today and the only thing THAT reminds me of is:

XYZ PDQ: kid speak for examine your zipper pretty darned quick (aka: you're flashing), which as an aspiring nudist, I really never should have minded, but the truth was, when I was in elementary school I HATED sticking out, but I did. You see, I was tall—always one of the tallest—second tallest girl through most of it, and the other one was REALLY tall—she NEVER could have pleaded normal... see, I didn't want any of THAT to rub off. And we were poorish, at least until my dad died (Xplaining how the loss of an income increases sustainability has mostly to do with a lot of beer and some Xpensive toys—whatever the case, my mother made living on social security look EASY after the debt that was my father ceased to be—but I digress). So ANYWAY... being tall... and poor... meant I wore my pants for several months longer than they covered my ankles (possibly the origin of my battle with pants)... or wore hand-me-downs from my cousin Cammi... AND I was tall... (I already stood out). So standing out some MORE by flashing my daffy duck panties (because Looney Tunes put out a series through JC Penneys that I am sure I wore for several years—NEARLY to the point where I gave them up for flashing...) would have been EMBARRASSING—I could prove my Daffy Duck claim but my friend Shelley, who is in the picture with me, would surely be upset—she's much more proper than I am. And in fact I didn't really start flashing on purpose until college, when I decided it was my mission in life to make people calm the heck down over the matter—yes, I sleep naked—you would TOO if you cared about comfort. DEAL WITH IT. Your boyfriend who is lounging in the dorm hallway can deal with it TOO. And so can the 35 friends you invited to the party in your dorm room.

*cough * So I bet you're wondering if I have anything more substantial to talk about than nudity. I DO! My second favorite topic, and the picture is courtesy of my FABULOUS friend Marian—one of the earliest in this networking thing to cross the line from casual networkee to friend... and she KNOWS what I like!

So here we have it... X-Dressing that doesn't X the clothing line too badly, because MOSTLY they are just X-Accessorized... (It is also a brilliant example of Lingerie Training, if anyone was wondering how it worked.


Xenophile

And finally I will step into the ring as a die-hard Xenophile. I totally dig things that are REALLY FREAKING strange... Mostly I take dares to try something new, I certainly love to GO new places, no matter HOW strange.


Am I the only parent out there unable, EVERY time I see the letter Y to say:


Y, Y, Y, Y, Yawning Yellow Yak, and Young Yolanda Yorgeson is Yelling on his back! Though the international Xenophile KNOWS Yorgeson is spelled Jorgeson. Y is really used for Yvonne (my groovy new blogger friend and Ybon, an extraordinary Basque boy I enjoyed the company of briefly when I was 18 *swoons *. Man, he was cute! Why do I need the letter Y to remind me of such things? I suppose because my REAL obsession that year was a W name, who I completely neglected to mention because I really associate him with Greenday—there is a song... it makes sense. YES, that is obtuse... I shared only the most peripheral of connections.


Y Blog?

You know, I've been thinking about this... people seem to have different reasons for themselves, including promoting a book (which is a FABULOUS reason to GUEST blog, but a bit BORING to try to have a daily blog about, with the exceptions of the JOURNEY to getting published, and my friend Helena's JOURNEY to master the skills of her super-spy character (Becoming Layla)--mostly though, there is only so many times any reader will come read about the damn book. Some people blog because they see this as a substitute, since the book isn't out and all—again, I think it's a mistake. This is a tool that will NOT become obsolete just because the book is out. The REAL reason we blog—and your readers will see it if you do it, is to CONNECT. It's so we are no longer alone in the void. Some of us blog to inform, some to entertain, but all of us for whom it will be sustainable, blog to connect to people OUT THERE—other writers, readers, blog browserly types...


So since I am apparently unable to make sense with X or Y, maybe I will go with YOWZA!

This is the Johnny of my X-Rated dreams... I think you can see the appeal... carefree, self-indulging, but not in that manic way some people do...My favorite feature of course is the tan line—so tempting... you know they are ALMOST coming off... which is the best way for pants to be aside from ALREADY off.

And then my favorite newish pic is ready to be featured again—I'm just sure of it...

Turbulence and Time

Oh, the ready underminers of any plan... This week has been a HECK of a week, good, bad, amazing, horrible. It's ALL been there, but there has just been TOO MUCH of it.

The Good

On Monday I finished CONSPIRACY. I had to restart the ending three times and I'm still not quite happy with it, but I am happy enough to think as a TRILOGY, I can go back and rewrite the FIRST and all the details will be right... I mean there won't be a point in polishing the second and third if nobody wants the FIRST, but I wanted the entire story written in first draft before polishing the first because I DIDN'T want to be written into a corner (and I'm glad I did—some important things HAVE changed.

The Bad

DEADLINES, DEADLINES, DEADLINES at work (plus a coworker who is acting off—I am not sure if she is mad at me about something or having personal problems, but it is sort of passive aggressive and reminding me of my mother at the moment). I have reasonable tolerance of grouchiness, but feel people have an obligation to either say WHY or swallow it. Snarkiness needs justification.



The AMAZING

The editor wants to see revisions, but ALSO said she thought she could work with me on the cozy... It is a deadline, but it is also an INTERACTION with real life publishing professionals... it is a REAL chance.


The Horrible

Mr. Tart has had his panties in a bunch about pretty much EVERYTHING, all week. He is periodically impossible. His temperament tends to the morose, which on some level (the dark bad boy one) is appealing, but when he gets like this, he blames ME for his misery, and no many how many times I try to calmly tell him he needs a time out, a spanking, a chill pill, or a therapist, he STILL is no fun. I think we've reached the end of it, but when he is like that, he frequently disrupts me and makes it hard to do my editing or writing.

It ALSO is my daughter's birthday tomorrow, so there has been a mad quest to learn about cameras (we've finally come round to giving her money, which she will save until Christmas when we will pay for the REST of the camera, as she wants a photography camera with all the lenses and such, but digital—we just can't do over $400. Over two occasions though, when she is thinking photojournalism as a career, I can be more comfortable, even if $200 per occasion is more than we can really do. (Besides, if it is for Christmas, I can shoot for a black Friday sale and maybe get a really good deal).



Fitness Blog, Say What?

Yes, Saturday is my fitness day, and HONESTLY, this is ALL related. Time crunches and stress are HUGE obstacles to doing what I am supposed to. The exercise still fell into line, but I had several eating SNAFUs. When I am feeling sorry for myself I crave crunchy, greasy or alcoholic. I managed to lose half a pound, but I was over points several times. Measurements aren't down at all (in fact upper body is all up half an inch) from two weeks ago, in spite of weighing 2.5 pounds less, but it is all MUCH less than when I started, and I know half an inch can be as easily explained as pizza last night (only 2 pieces, and my day's eating was on points—but it is a bloaty sort of food, yes?)


I need to spend a little time thinking about the safety net for when life gets manic like this... I need to do a little shopping so I have some easy, satisfying snacks that trick me when I am feeling pouty. Diet Coke seems to be one of the things that helps—feels splurgy. I try not to have one every day, but this week I definitely did (never mind that half the time I added rum to it).

The next two weeks are unlikely to improve matters, and then May 6 I go on a business trip where for three days it is virtually impossible to eat right or fit my exercise in. I will try though, and vow to spend a little time planning for damage minimization...