Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
So now I am running on about 4 hours sleep and 1/2 a pain pill. Because soon I need a root canal. (o_O) Trust me, 1/2 is all I need. I am a total light weight. Off I go to write. Believe it or not I can write like this. I can't barely string a spoken sentence together, but I can actually write. Go figure.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
People (that I went to high school with!) were pointing us in the right direction, and we basically knew where we were, but it was one of those instances where you just sort of feel like you're skating by on the skin of your teeth.
Then I asked (as we continue to stumble around in the dark on these paths) if there is still time to take me home because I have forgotten my phone, which I was allowed to have...and a sleeping bag...a tent. I have forgotten damn near everything that would classify this as 'camping'. And she says sure, but then I turn to find her vacuuming up leaves with a little vacuum...
WTF. I'm saying "Ma! Leave them! They are leaves! In nature...in their natural environment. This is where one would expect to find leaves..."
p.s. boy child and girl child have both gone to fifth grade sleep away camp. They did not forget a single thing. Especially not...shoes!!! Just sayin'
Monday, December 27, 2010
Then I came home and wrote four pages of my mainstream and then three pages of my paranormal...in bed. Then I napped...in bed. Then I watched Psych and ate mini chocolate bars--wait for it--in bed! That is so unusual for me, but damn was it decadent. My room is sunny and open and big and to lay there in the sunbeams and just be after so much Christmas craziness was super nice.
What's the burger about? The burger is about this really really handsome man who was driving in a car behind me earlier. He had dark hair and dark glasses on and dark coat and he was kind of exotic looking and burly and he was eating a burger like...okay, so it turned me on. He ate it with a huge amount of predatory glee without being gross or nasty or messy or anything. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen in the burger eating department. I didn't have a mental image for my lycan in the my current book. Now I do...
Happy windy Monday.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
I have to admit, it still startles me when folks call me one of their favorite authors or I find that authors I know and have been reading forever suddenly show up liking my work. It makes my brain ache. It's like trying to pair peanut butter and garlic in my mind. I have such a hard time but am always very flattered.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
No. Not city sidewalks...
But all kinds of other stuff. This year, for whatever reason, it truly feels Christmasy to me. Last year was cold (finally! we've had some downer warmish years for a while) but TOO much snow. Enough snow to put everything at a stand still and/or crawl it too much. This year it's cold and blowy. A dusting of snow. It's still on the roads. It's picturesque but it's not debilitating. Plus, I'm ODing on Christmas music in my travels, listening to our local lite station that plays it 24/7 starting the day after Thanksgiving.
Anyway, I was driving to the store for my last-last-lastly-LAST minute food stuff for Christmas Eve dinner at my house tomorrow. And I was thinking about how I have always loved Christmas and that it has a specific feel to me. So here are a few things from my childhood that I remember vividly. You're welcome.
*The year I had about a thimble full of wine and fell up the steps. I was about twelve. It was all downhill from there.
*The year Santa set off I TOOK A LICKIN' FROM A CHICKEN in the attic. I was still awake. I was faking it.
*The year Santa brought me a Barbie outfit for my Barbie because my 'best friend' had stolen the exact same outfit when she came to play.
*The year I got clogs and instantly proceeded to fall down in the street trying to run across and show my friend. And then the scariest man in the whole neighborhood found me and carried me home. I was traumatized for...well, I am still traumatized.
*My mother always made Baklava. If you don't know what this is, it is paper thin sheets of phyllo dough and honey and walnuts and it is an act of God that you can even get these ingredients to adhere together, let alone have them make a delicate, crispy perfect dessert. She always had the help of a nice rum and Coke and some smokes. (My mom smoked back in the day but hasn't for about 12 years, go ma!). I mention the rum and Coke because we all need some spirits during the holidays, but if it had been me (as I have worked with phyllo dough) I'd have been drinking the Bacardi straight from the bottle with a crazy straw. Fuck the Coke.
*The year my dad decided to stain the entertainment center on Xmas Eve and the fumes were damn near overwhelming and we were all half high from fumes and the windows were open and it was freezing and my mother was yelling about the goddamn sugar cookies(!!!!)
*Same year: my dad asking my one hundred pound (soaking wet with a brick in each hand), five foot five boyfriend to help him move the ginormous entertainment center. Christ. It would have been more productive to ask me. Or the wiener dog.
*The year I thought that wearing my green and white candy cane striped footy pajamas and totally wrapping my feet in tin foil to resemble boots would be a brilliant and festive costume!
*Sitting around my aunt's table while all the adults drank and smoked and gossiped. I had huge ears and the ability to record all the gory details in my super snappy mind (that has now started to fail me. heh.)
*The year I fell down my aunt's front steps and managed to hook my foot in the railing so I ended up with my skirt around my neck doing a rather impressive yet excruciating split. (In her defense she had yelled, careful! the steps are icy! and I yelled No! They're just wet-aaaaaaaaaaah!)
*The year I asked for one of these (<~~~see photo insert) and sprained my groin.
*The year my grandmother gave me and my sister matching purses that looked like macrame plant hangers. We still begin opening her gifts with: I hope it's not a purse...
*And just a few years ago, watching A Christmas Story, no lie, THREE times before the kids finally fell asleep.
These are just a few of the gems. I have always been blessed with fab Christmases that I hope I'm passing down to my kids. Fingers crossed.
I also remember that my mother ALWAYS made Christmas super and festive no matter how stressed she was, what doofy boyfriend I had that year, or what kind of hoopla was going on . She was brilliant, always giving me a book on Christmas Eve so that a) I got a gift and b) I was occupied unless she needed me. I never minded helping because I loved Christmas. One of my favorite things to help with was wrapping. I remember many years of wrapping in front of the TV or radio while she did whatever (Baklava!) in the kitchen. I had a good run of Bloom County books for several years. I still have them. Opus and I have had some very merry Christmas Eves together. I still heart Opus.
So if you want and have the time, take a moment to share a memory with me. Yes, it's crazy and stressful and all that jazz, but it sure is fun too. And it can be a huge part of the fabric of memories we all have as we grown and age and start families of our own. (Hallmark, call me, I could write cards ;) )
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The picture here is my 2010 portrait. Every year I try and remember to take a picture of the print anthologies I'm in or my own print books from that year. It helps me remember that all the weird hours really are for a reason. And it also helps remind me that I do actually work. Sometimes I feel like I don't...
I'll be scarce the next few days as our annual Xmas Eve dinner is swiftly approaching and there is pit beef to be made and quiche and all kinds of other stuff. Ho ho ho!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Stuff like "This story was brilliantly layered..." had me smiling--hugely, happily, and okay a bit stupidly...heh. Read the whole review here!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Yay me and ho, ho, ho!
This made me smile! ~~~> "Sommer Marsden is a relatively new author for me, and I have to confess, after reading Unexpected, I plan on keeping an eye out for more books written by her."
If you'd like to see the rest of the review it's here.
p.s. the punctuation issues Daisiemae mentions is the British vs. American way of setting off dialogue. I have to admit, I'm still getting used to it myself, but I just wanted to point that out. :)
Saturday, December 18, 2010
It's birthday brunch day here at casa de crazy. Since nine I've been puttering and prepping and trying to keep the breadish things away from the gluten free safe for me to eat things. I have had coffee and tried to find a table cloth (impossible), then I settled on artfully arranging some vintage dinner napkins I recently found at a rummage sale as a table runner.
For some reason, having folks over that I see all the time--every year--to my house for holiday festivities (which my birthday and my sister's birthday fall under due to us both being December babies) freaks me out. And tension and stress can run high. So there's joking and pauses to be kissed or hugged after being snappish (usually on my part) between the man and I.
And almost every holiday season, someone says too much and hurts someone's feelings. Orrrrrr someone just acts like a loon (the verbal equivalent of putting cat food in the Jell-O mold) and freaks someone else out. There is often at least one bruised emotion or act of insanity. At some point. Every. Year.
What my mother and I like to call "Another good old fashioned Griswold Christmas". Unless one of us is the offender/offended. Then we joke about it after the fact.
Hope your holiday is turning out to be stress free and fun or at least you can laugh about it later. And save the neck for me, Clark...
Friday, December 17, 2010
It’s another theme song day. It snowed yesterday afternoon and the roads were covered but passable. It was really no big deal. Until this morning. Which is when we all overslept. I mean overslept as in we woke up at the time boy child should be leaving the house most days. Then came a mad rush like a flock of birds all trying to take off in flight at once. I flipped on the news—here comes the part where I misread the ticker and thought we were two hours late. We all breathed a deep sigh of relief…*whew* Then the man called to pop my bubble and tell me…no! We were not two hours late. Get a move on! Bwah!
Then there were pop tarts and seltzer water (I’m out of juice) and cussing. Some yelling and stomping. Wet shoes and car clearing. Raised voices and weeping. And that was just me. [or it felt like it]. I blindly tossed on clothes and took boy in, my coffee is something I tossed together in a travel mug and I’m not sure if it’s even actually, technically safe to drink. But girl child has just left to go to bus stop and dog is curling up against my leg and…ah. Peace.
Oh wait. It’s Friday right? I have to go shop for food for the brunch at my house tomorrow. (o_O) Balls!
So I bring to you some Gene Loves Jezebel to kick off your morning. I love this album. Can you say ooh-la-la eighties? It was the first 'album' I bought on CD. Ever. Hold on...let me get my cane.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
by Sommer Marsden
The sound filled her home again. A deep groan shook her teeth in her head and made her stomach turn.
“It’s okay,” Charlie laughed touching her hip.
When his fingers touched her there, she sighed. It was involuntary, like sneezing or blinking.
“I'm embarrassed,” she admitted.
“Don’t’ be.” Charlie moved past her, his bulk crushing to hers for just a moment and the fact that she wasn’t breathing from nerves made white flowers and spots bloom in her vision. Kimber sucked in a deep breath and he laughed softly. That laugh was like his lips on her skin. So intimate and knowing that she shivered. Another moan and Charlie lifted the window. “It’s just a noise, Kimber. It sounds way worse than it is.”
“Right! Right. It sounds way worse that it is.”
“Just like you thinking I was actually sorry I’d kissed you. That sounded way worse than it was.”
He leaned out the window and she held her breath, afraid he would fall but mesmerized by the grace with which he moved. The flex of his arms inside that heather gray hoodie. The hard lines of his thighs in his soft-looking pajama pants.
If she touched her hand to the fabric, would it be as soft as it looked? Until she got to the fly? Then would it be hard? A girl could only hope.
“You said you were sorry.”
Bang, bang, bang. She jumped a little with every impact.
“But I meant it was wrong of me. Not that I actually regretted the kiss itself.” He hauled himself back in and stood tall. God, he was big.
“Oh, I thought you meant…”
“Your lips taste like red hots, did you know that?” He winked and shut the window. A warm rush of fluid moistened the crotch of her panties. She was so very, very hot for this guy. Which was so very, very wrong on many levels.
“I use this cinnamon lipglo—”
She didn’t get to finish because he moved in close to kiss her. His head dipped and his mouth pressed to hers. His lips, soft and warm, tasted like mint toothpaste. He hauled her closer and held her waist in his big hands. The cold of them seeped through her pink penguins, causing her to shiver. He pulled her even farther into his embrace. Charlie’s mouth toured down her throat and his thumbs stroked her nipples so they pressed the thin fabric of her pajamas. The thrill of his touch pulsed through her belly, her pussy, and even her fingers. She was loose and limber. She was made of jelly. And her ears were ringing. She pushed her hands into his hair and tugged until his hips shot forward; his hard-on undeniable.
“Your skin tastes like Spring. Which is good considering how fast the snow is falling.” He didn’t let her answer. His hands scooped under her bottom and he lifted her easily, walking to the bed. He planted her on the edge and tugged at her penguin pants. “Out of these, please? I won’t regret it.” His voice, dark and intense, made her move on the bed like a wave of long hair and long limbs. “Will you?”
Charlie studied her, lifting her now bare leg up and kissing the inside of her knee. The tingling parade of sensation marched straight to her cunt and she wanted him more than the next lungful of air. “No. I won’t regret it. Be gentle. It’s been a while.”
She laughed and so did he. “For me, too,” Charlie said.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
I started today by putting my sweatshirt on backwards in the dark. Then when I realized, I said a [deleted] word and then proceeded to put my slippers on the wrong feet...in the dark. Then I came down and the man was home (his headlights died) and then the boy's walking buddy said he was catching a ride seeing as it is...9 degrees! So drove boy in. Then drove man to drop of car. In the midst of all of this my brand new shiny phone was binging at me because me and the kids got new phones with unlimited texting yesterday. What's faster than me on a laptop keyboard? Kids on a teeny weenie little texting keyboard. Insanity. I'm still learning. Me and my [feels like] giant thumbs.
My god. I need to a) wake up and b) get some work done and c) stay warm. You know what that means? That means this day calls for a theme song. This is what's blaring as I psyche myself up to get down to bidness. My recommendation is (((PLAY IT LOUD)))
Morning, kidlets. Happy Hump Day
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Is Ultimate Uniforms from Xcite. My story involves a rather different kind of uniform. The kind a person might be wearing if they asked "Would You Like Fries With That?" Oddly enough, also the name of my story!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
1. Stick your head in boy child's room and say "You're father is out. The moment he gets home I want to go so you can shop. Be ready. Five minutes! Do you hear me!" [he says yes]
2. Go to get dressed.
3. Hear the front door.
4. Continue to get dressed.
5. Hear a knock on bedroom door.
6. Hear "It's just me." Man enters.
7. Keep getting dressed.
8. Have him say, "Hey there, girlie. Where ya going so fast?"
9. Explain last minute begging for chauffeured ride to Xmas shop.
10. Get kissed. Get touched. Get asked "And here I was thinking we could..."
11. Stick your head in boy child's room and say "Um, I forgot I had to do something. But I want to leave in a half an hour! Do you hear me!" [hey says. um...yes?]
12. Get looked at funny by child as you tug door shut (fast!).
13. Get lucky.
Oh, I love to start Saturdays with a bang. Happy weekend.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Yay! Coming December 24th to Ellora's Cave. The book, not...never mind. Merry Christmas to me and happy hunkadays! What? Oh. Holidays. Happy holidays.
But this song...oh this is the mother of all fixation songs. So bad that...well, we put this in each other's head around here. And then we wait for it to pass and then we look at the recent survivor of the Mahna Mahna worm and say...
Thursday, December 9, 2010
I have the ability--often great--sometimes horrifying--to recall and sing the lyrics to almost every song I've ever heard. The loved, the tolerated and the abhorred. So there I stood in line at Joanne's singing along to Dan Freakin' Fogelberg. Then on the way to the mall (I was Christmas shopping don't ya know) REO Speedwagon came on. Singing, singing, singing--me.
Now I was never ever a fan of REO Speedwagon, but I do know every song of theirs ever played on the radio thanks to my brain. I cannot remember why I went upstairs but I know all the lyrics to Take It On The Run. However...I will cop to being a fan of Dan Fogelberg...Gordon Lightfoot (Gah, get me drunk and get me to sing The Wreck of the Edmond Fitzgerald) and Harry Freakin' Chapin (Mr. Tanner was a cleaner from a town in the midwest...). So there. I said it. I do not like REO Speedwagon but I know all the words to The Cats in the Cradle by Mr. Chapin (and 30,000 Pounds of Bananas) and Thank God I'm A Country Boy by John Denver (groan). And Rubberband Man by the Spinners...Father and Son by Cat Stevens. Oh gosh. I'm going to stop now...
Now you. You go. Tell me what song is stuck in a head as you unload the dishwasher.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
So off I go, later today. Me and my half done crime novel that I have to yank out in shards and chunks. Looks like there will be a lot of shards and chunks this holiday season. Um...eew? (o_O) You know what I mean.
Speaking of this holiday season...I am nearly done all my shopping/prep (knock wood, throw salt). I am also happy to report that I have yet to hear the Christmas shoe song and it will be a hap-hap-happy fucking holiday if I NEVER EVER DO THIS YEAR! (Santa, that is what I'd like from you. No shoe song)
Monday, December 6, 2010
The Hanukkah song! They played it on the radio when I was driving boy child to school this morning. They've been playing this since I was in high school (how did that happen?) and now he gets so stoked to hear it like I always have. So we sang along until we got too close to school and he had to pretend as if he didn't know me.
Now if I could just get them to play Adam Sandler's Mother's Day song on Mother's Day, that would be awesome. Happy Monday, folks. Back to work...
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Include stories by:
I would say more but my brain is chicken fried and dip dyed. I am frazzled. Girl child tricked me into "running out for a gift" which actually equals Christmas shopping. A quick trip turned into a two hour jaunt. Call me crazy but I much preferred my version of Christmas shopping last night. Leggings, sweats, socks, wine and a sofa. Now that is a merry fucking Christmas. You can keep the insane, mobbed, stores. Eesh!
But I did get fabric. Yay!
Friday, December 3, 2010
Here is the blurb:
Kimber Daniels knows what they say about assuming and how a person should never do it. But she can't help but assume her new neighbor Charlie Brewster is gay. What with is matching curtains, brand new filigree bird bath and that pink flamingo on his front lawn dressed in its cute little holiday Santa outfit. It's wrong to assume, but she does anyway, especially when he answers the door in a bright pink tulip covered robe.
It seems only logical that Charlie's a safe guy to be around when all other men are on her naughty list. While her best friend Sarah is trying to convince Kimber to make the moves on Charlie because he's a good guy, Kimber's trying to convince Sarah that Charlie is totally off limits and is simply the kind of man that sugar plum dreams are made of.
An excerpt can be found on the site.
Beyond this nice shiny release, today is looking like a poop cracker as the man would say. So I would very much love it if you'd send me some nice happy vibes. Think...Om...it's okay you dizbang frantic woman...Om...
LOL. That should work!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Anyway, all my others have been chock full of ghost and phantoms and angels and werewolves (Oh my!) but this one has a hunky hot fireman and a woman who decides to set her own kitchen on fire. Okay, so it was an accident. But hey, hunky hot fireman are just as intoxicating as supernatural creatures. In fact, I think they have their own range of special um...abilities.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Now I'm running to answer the ringing phone. The countdown begins: the last December 1st as a 30-something...