Help! I've Fallen And Can't Get Up!

I think I need a keeper. Or to be walked on a leash.

Yesterday morning I fell. I tripped over an extension cord that wasn't supposed to be where it was. sighhhh And down I went. Head-butted an end table, landed on my left knee (leaving rug burns and a bruise), landed on my left hand (spraining the wrist), AND! Slammed my right hand into the end table. My middle finger on that hand is swollen like crazy and can't be moved. I guess that means the symbol of my road rage is out of commission for a while. lol

Anyway, I'm in pain. Typing is not easy. Ouch! So this is going to be short. Here is my question. Don't you just want to slap someone when you fall and get hurt and everyone is laughing?

Heartbeats

This morning I went with my youngest daughter to see her OB-GYN. She'll soon be twenty and she's pregnant. Seventeen weeks pregnant. She's a tiny woman. Five feet tall, tiny bones, tiny hands, tiny feet. So that pudge in her midsection is quite obvious.

And she cries about that. lol

She is soooo worried that everyone is looking at her and thinking she's fat. And it's soooo obvious that the belly is a baby and not a beer gut. We all laugh at her.

The baby is just beginning to flutter inside of her. She feels it but says she's not certain. But it's the baby--letting her know he/she is there, of course. lol We don't know the sex yet. We'll find out on June 13. Today they drew blood and will run all the usual tox screens. That worries her, and I tell her not to worry.

The child is a healthy living nut these days. Orange juice, water, and an occasional iced tea. Baked chicken and fish. Salads, fruits, and veggies. Her weight gain is perfect. And still she worries about the baby.

It wasn't too long ago when I worried myself sick about this child of mine. She was a wild child. Loved to party. She's done a complete reversal and is soooo happy. I guess it just took the right guy for her to love and feel confident in his love. She's an angel now.

My angel is having an angel.

And today I heard the beats of that angel's heart. I cried.

Eye Openers

This has been an interesting week. I went to visit my brother and his family, then came home to have my former mother in law and my ex living in my home while they visited my children. The back and forth emotionally was exhausting. It was worth it in every way.

My brother is someone I've looked up to my whole life. As adults we stopped getting along somewhere along the time he decided I had stopped maturing at twelve (just like I will forever see my little cousins as being preteens, despite the years that have occurred since) and ended up just like my mother. And I, resenting that and having experienced his stubbornness first hand, decided he was a jackass.

What happened was a visit without my parents there to interject, and without the distraction of children so that adult conversation was truly adult conversation. We stayed up late every night to talk. We needed it. By the time I left, my brother stood up, in tears and said, "[Insert my full real name here] I don't believe we've ever met. It's really good to know you." Of course that made me cry too.

That feeling I had when I realized that my ideal childhood wasn't shared by the brother I idolized, that feeling where he'd been stripped away from me and I stood alone on those beautiful memories, alienated from him... they fell away. Now I feel like I've been given back that brother and we're going to be okay. I left the visit with an open invitation to join my sister in law's family at Christmas time when they go to a lodge in the middle of the woods to spend time together. It's like I have a family again. I can't express what that means to me.

The other moment, when I came home to potential disaster, was reaffirming. Even though my ex-mil was a huge influencer in the way the divorce was handled (and that's not a compliment), she got to see some of the things I had to deal with. And I, in turn, got to hear her express her frustration with him, at him. The thing that saddens me is the way the kids have to see it.

I can tell that man is running out of money and friends because he seems to think that telling me he finally appreciates me will make me swoon and run back. Never fear, that's not even a blip of a thought. It's just comical at this point. He thinks we can be friends after the kids leave my home for college. In six years. I told him not to hold his breath because I have no interest in talking to him again once that happens.

I needed this week. It was replete with deadlines and urgent emails, emotional ups and downs, yet in the end I had more reaffirmation than I've had in years. You know what? I'm doing all right. Better than that. I'm doing great and on top of that, I'm happy with the choices I've made. How often do we get to say that?

Love,
Mia

Something New from Regina Carlysle

Change and just general 'busy-ness' has been the order of the day around here. Life gets complicated and yes, messy, and these days, my mind has been occupied on things outside the realm of blogging, writing, etc. I'm in the middle of a major move. Boxes and packing materials are scattered all around. It's probably a good thing that I have this to occupy my mind. Change can be a scary thing and I suspect that if I stopped to really think about it all, I would be terrified. It's tough facing the unknown after so many years of everything being the same. A true test of my 'mettle', I think. Wish me luck!

In other news, I have a new book coming out tomorrow at Ellora's Cave. Tinderbox, set in the world of Jaguar Hunger, is one of several hot little stories appearing in Jaid Black's Something Wicked This Way Comes, Vol. 2. So please whip out your credit cards and pick this one up.

Buy it Here

Available NOW for pre-order.

Barnes and Noble

Amazon Kindle

Will release May 1 on those sites, and May 2 on the EC webstore and other vendor sites.

Fatman & Robyn

Jaid Black

Jake Chamberlin, star quarterback of the New York Bloods, has a not-so-little secret—he’s into chubby chicks. He does all he can to resist temptation, but when Jake bumps into the gorgeous Robyn DiMarco at a bistro in Little Italy, all bets are off.

Scarred and Kilt

Laurann Dohner

Matty has a new neighbor, and she strongly suspects the kilt-wearing hottie is a vampire—he only goes out at night, has weird visitors and the blood bank is making regular deliveries. But he doesn’t seem to hurt anyone, so “live and let live” is Matty’s motto. Until she sees a guy armed with crosses and wooden stakes breaking into the neighbor’s house. Matty charges to the rescue—and ends up in Mr. Hottie’s bed…and on his desk…and…

Tinderbox

Regina Carlysle

Set in the same world as Jaguar Hunger.

Private investigators Nate and Daniel don’t expect to find their mate while working a case. But they recognize Olivia as theirs the second they catch the missing woman’s scent—the scent of a female jaguar shifter in heat. Nate and Daniel’s task? Find then claim Livvy in every raw, animalistic way possible…and release her inner beast.

Asterion

Katalina Leon

Betrayed by her village chief, Larisa is brought to a mysterious island and left bound in a subterranean labyrinth, where drops of her blood summon the mythical Minotaur. She expects the man-beast to take her life…but it’s her body that’s sacrificed. Darron, a shapeshifting being, ravishes Larisa, and she gives herself freely to the pleasure—a decision that will change both their worlds forever.

Book Video

Decadent Dance

Aubrey Ross

Surely the dress Zoe purchased did not transport her to an alien ship, right? No. Hallucinations. Must be. Though…the gorgeous alien who greets her seems real enough. And the sex? Out of this world.

Vaden has waited years for his Decadent Dancer, and though Zoe swears she didn’t know what the dress could do, Vaden has been lonely too long to be easily thwarted. He’ll use every sensual trick he knows to convince Zoe she’s right where she belongs.

Sahara Heat

Diana Hunter

As a favor to a friend, author Carla Braun agrees to meet with archaeologist Josef Anderson to discuss his recent desert find. To her dismay, the man’s infuriating…as well as tall, blond, gorgeous—and into BDSM. If she can look beyond Dr. Anderson’s cool exterior, Carla just might discover some scorching Sahara Heat…

In A Bad Mood Much?

Yep. That would be me. Or at least that's what I'm going to blame it on. Of course, it's very disheartening to think of myself as being in a permanent bad mood. And you'd think that would be enough to snap me out of it. Uhhhhh....NOPE!

Or maybe I'm just a BITCH. (Stop snickering!)

Honestly, though, NOTHING is quite right. From the time I get up in the morning until I finally close my eyes at night, I can find plenty to gripe about. My brother says I need to get laid. I say that I just need to be put in charge of everything... and I mean E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.

For instance...

Last night I rented The Descendants from Redbox. It's been forever since I watched a really good movie. I simply don't think they make good movies anymore. That's my chief complaint. But for now, I'm going to complain about The Descendants. Now I know the movie was up for an Academy Award or George Clooney was---or maybe both. Hell, I don't know. But there was a lot of media hype about this film and it was supposedly wonderful.

My take? It was okay. Nothing about it GRABBED me. I kept waiting to be grabbed and it never came.

Let's take it apart.

First, let's talk about Clooney. When I see a Clooney performance, I expect something very intense. Even when he's in a somewhat comedic role, I expect intensity. I don't expect a Syriana everytime, but I expect to be impacted somehow by his acting ability. I want to be grabbed. And I also want to grab--mainly his ass.

This time? It was a big fail for me on both ends of the grab. Who the EFF dressed him for this part? The pants made him look boney and as if he had NO ASS!!! The lack of color in his clothing was a big turn off for me. Okay. So you're thinking: "But Tess...that was the way it was supposed to be. He was a colorless-no-ass-kind-of-guy." Really? Yeah, yeah. I get that. But still...I watch Clooney to see Clooney--not just the story. And yep, if they had put him in a nice peach-colored Polo and a pair of tight-fitting jeans I would have been much more satisified. AND!!!!! Couldn't they let him take his shirt off at least once?

I mean, wasn't part of the storyline about his wife having an affair and how bad it was to do that to him? Sure he worked all of the time. But if I had to pay 35K a year for private schools I'd work all the damn time too! My point is this: Would it have hurt to display a little Clooney stuff? I mean, he's portraying a nice guy whose now dying wife was unfaithful to him and he just finds that out. As it was played it comes off as well...
colorless-no-ass-guys deserve to get cheated on.

And WTF did the whole trust and land sale thing have to do with anything? I kept thinking that the affair was somehow going to end up being a conspiracy--something I could get into--something that would grab me. NOPE. And it was nice to keep the land, but... MEH.

It definitely was way cool to see Beau Bridges and Michael Ontkean after all these years. Even if they didn't let Ontkean have a speaking part. And let me just say that the whole voting party with the cousins made no sense if they had no rights anyway. I did like the idea of the little girl possibly going camping with her dad on that pristine beach at some point, though.

All in all, I'd say the movie was a C. I never shed a tear. My heart never warmed up. I was never on the edge of my seat or so engrossed that I couldn't get up and go to the bathroom without putting the movie on pause. Yep, it was worth the buck-twenty-five I paid at Redbox. Definitely NOT worth a pay-per-view fee of four or five bucks and NO WAY IN HELL worth the price of a damn movie ticket!!!

I still love George Clooney. And I loved the dude who played Sid. My fave scene was when Grandpa belted Sid. LOL So give it a watch if you haven't. It's a rainy afternoon kind of movie. Meh.

That's it from me today. See you next Monday!!!

I'm writing

I wish I hadn't squandered all month last month. Burn out does that to you, though. However, I'm now facing the challenge of finishing this book, deep spring cleaning my house, prepping my younger daughter for a three day camp experience with her classmates, and packing for my trip to the east coast. All of that is supposed to be finished by Sunday. I think I'm in over my head.

The spring cleaning is urgent because my ex mother in law is coming to town to watch my kids and generally be a grandma. She lives several states away, so this is kind of a big deal. Plus she hasn't ever seen where the girls live, since the divorce. She needs this. The girls need this. I, however, don't.

She's a neat-freak. And when I mean neat-freak, she's kind of OCD. As in, she once bought a floor model fridge and then complained that there was a tiny, non-dented scratch on the BACK of the fridge even though that's against the wall. She also came over to my spotless home, not only cleaned by me, but then cleaned by Merry Maids before my daughters' birthday parties and proceeded to wash my french door, on her knees, in front of the entire family. Yeah, I was embarrassed. And who I caught crawling around my kitchen floor on hands and knees with a toothbrush and a bucket of sudsy water.

To drive her crazy (I was getting back at her for deliberately undermining me with my children several days in a row, so it was warranted, folks), I gave her gas fireplace a thoughtful look and calmly told her that the tiling above the vent was slightly uneven. That was years ago. She still frowns when she looks at it... or so the girls tell me. It was genius and also mean.

Now she's coming to my place. My place which the previous owners decided to panel the living room. My place that where it isn't paneled is burnt orange and used to have a wallpaper boarder around the chair rail but which I tore down and never pulled off the tiny pieces of paper that stayed behind (because I'm a working single mother, damn it). My place that daily has a fight against ants and where most of my furniture--while, antique--are hand me downs. Hey, I left the guy and my furniture in order to get out. I'm not picky about my "new to me" stuff. My place where I rarely intrude on my daughters' bedrooms to disapprove of their sense of order.

I think this is going to get ugly. I know I'm not messy. I'm just casual. She's not. She literally bends over every day to poke her carpet where it meets hardwood so that the pile looks right. I have peeling linoleum at the base of one of my kitchen cupboards. I also cook and she doesn't. My kitchen is used and while clean, doesn't have the never been used granite or seamless stove tops.

Can you tell where my biggest concern is? Obviously not the away camp, the long flight to the east coast, or the fact that my book deadline is breathing down my throat. Nope. It's the ex-mom.

I think I'll clean like I would usually for this time of year. If she feels compelled to keep going, at least I won't be home to witness it. Too bad they don't sell valium over the counter.

"I don't have time to write!"

When I started writing, I had a two-month-old baby. When he was four-months-old, he came with me to my first RWA chapter meeting, where I breast fed him throughout the entire thing to keep him quiet. That was a long, long meeting. What amazed me, at the time, was the everyone seemed to have the same complaint: "I never have time to write."

Okay, some of these were self-explanatory. There amount of free time in every day is precious and finite; if you spend that time quilting or working on a scrapbook, then no, you're not going to have time to write. There are things we all have to do, like walk the dogs and make sure the house is clean enough to live in. Some people have kids, some don't, and if you fall into the former category, congratulations, you probably have even less time to write. Back in those days, I heard women saying things like, "My husband goes to bed at eleven, so I stay up until one, and then I get up at four, before the kids get up at six, so I can steal some writing time." I used to think, "That's nuts, if you want to write, you can find time without sacrificing sleep." I was doing it, and I had a newborn.

After a while, I realized that people weren't saying, "I have no time to write," but "I have no time to write in the way I want to write." I've heard, many times, "Oh, I can't write. I like to sit down with a glass of wine and no distractions." Or, "I can't write, I don't like where our computer is set up. Anyone could read over your shoulder." The fact that there is no place, on earth or outside of it, that exists without distraction, or that they were writing in hopes of publication (where anyone could read it!) never seemed to crack through the obstacle they'd set up for themselves.

Times... have not changed. This weekend, I sat on a panel at a library event. A woman in the audience asked, "When do you find time to write?" I gave her my honest answer, that you should look for the time to write the way a drug addict looks like a place to shoot up. Here are three ways I've stolen time during the days of my career:

1. Get some kind of recording device and talk out your story. When my son started preschool, we chose one that was, for some stupid reason, a forty-five minute drive into the city. One way. I made use of the drive time by buying a digital recorder and just talking my prose into it. When I'd get home, I'd slap on some headphones and hastily transcribe it. You'd be amazed at how quickly your story fleshes out that way. The most common objection I hear about this one is, "I can't, because I can't stand to listen to the sound of my own voice." If this is you, then I say unto thee, "Deal with it."
2. Keep a notebook with you at all times. If you're waiting at the doctor's office, or you're on your lunch hour, you can write in the notebook. No, you will not look weird. I've seen people balancing their checkbooks in line at McDonald's. You will look perfectly normal.
3. Take one of your hobbies out back and shoot it dead. I love hobbies as much as the next person, but let's get real. Do you "not have time to write" because you'd rather be doing something else? Do you really have to finish that massive cross-stitch project this year? Or spend seven hours a week scrap booking vacation photos? Can you sacrifice any of the time you use on those activities to write? Okay. Then do that.

I don't think it's easy for everyone, in every situation, to find the time to write. But I do think that the moment you say, "I can't, because," you're saying a lot more about your desire to write than you are your schedule. If you want to do something, you can do it. You just have to find a way, and every time you throw "can't" in there, you're throwing up another brick wall directly in your own way.

And please, no getting three and four hours of sleep a night because you think it makes you dedicated. It just makes your brain tired. And there will be plenty of time to have a tired brain once your career is firmly established and you've inevitably over-commit yourself to all the great ideas that sprung up while you finished the first book.

Stop looking at me like that. I don't get up at four in the morning to write. I get up at four in the morning because that's the only time the bathroom is free.

A Nice Evening

Last night I had all three of my kids with me. None of us had seen the middle child in two months. And with the oldest working and not at home except to sleep and eat and the baby boy, lol, in school, and then up in his room listening to
music all of the time... Well...we just don't spend a lot of time together.

But last night we were together along with the middle child's fiance. We had five hours of non-stop laughter. I guess absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder. Usually these kids do nothing but argue with each other. Now that they aren't in each other's face constantly, they get along. LOL I love it.

The addition of the fiance was nice too. He's really sweet and funny. I didn't think anyone would "fit" with my family. But he does. And I am so happy about that. He seems to love me silly, too! He's not shy about showing his affection either. He's a hugger for sure. lol

So some things just work out, don't they?

I'm rushing out the door this morning and wanted to say hi to everyone. I missed blogging last week and have promised myself to NOT dare miss another. I've always liked blogging and chatting with commenters. So next week?? Be prepared for a nice long rant of some sort. lol It's about time I did that!

I hope everyone is happily reading, writing, and editing.

Asses

I feel like discussing them today. That's right. I'm an ass girl. Or a chest girl. I also really like thick wrists and blunt man-fingers... I have a thing for height and shoulders too. I also like men with a little extra on them. Something to hold onto.

Well, okay, I just like men. A lot. I like almost all of them in some way or another. Bald? No problem. Glasses? Who cares? But I digress. This is supposed to be about asses. Why? Because I feel like it.

The best ass I ever saw was a man in a tailored suit. I love men in suits. See above. I was in an airport and this guy with THE PERFECT tailored suit walked by me. Now I have to admit to noticing that he was pretty. Very pretty to begin with. I'd already noticed him. Hell, I'd been staring, to be fair. Then they called the flight boarding sequence and the guy whipped off his jacket and I saw... THE ASS OF ALL ASSES! Unlike most suits, this one was low rise on a pair of beautiful lean hips. The fabric lovingly cupped and draped, without a wrinkle or excess fabric anywhere. His shirt was tailored and tucked neatly into the waistband.

Geez, I nearly groaned. Out loud. I don't know if it was the tailoring on that perfect butt, or the fact that his suit looked high fashioned and negligently hot as hell, but it worked for me. Right to the top of his slightly too long curly brown locks. I would have tapped that in a heartbeat. Like morse code, baby.

And that was two years ago.

I just spent the last thirty minutes on Pinterest looking for hot butts. I've decided my favorites are all in suits. So someone explain to me why I chose to live in an area of town where suits are not standard dress code? I need a be-suited ass in my life. Preferably a tailored one with just a little extra padding on his body so I can hug and hug and hug that man when I look up into his eyes and see him smiling at me.

The end.

Winner of Taryn Elliott's Giveaway!

...and that winner is Chrisbails! You'll be contacted soon about your prize. :)

Thanks so much to everyone who stopped by Taryn's interview!