It's raining something alright

Tomorrow is the big day.

Me and my dumbest idea of the year in my infinite wisdom am hosting a baby shower.  

Yep, you heard me.  Saturday for three hours my  house is going to be estrogen central.  I shudder to think.

But that's not all.  I am also catering it, decorating for it (can you say 50 helium filled balloons ranging in all colors girly) and baking the cake.  For those of you who don't know me all that well.  I like to try new things when there is a lot riding on it.  Why?  I think it has something to do with neurons in my brain not firing correctly.

The first time we fried a turkey for Thanksgiving, we had a house full of people.  Fifteen to be exact.  Now if you have never fried a turkey, I should tell you many things can go awry.  And for us they did.  But in the end, even though we had to cut some of the drumstick off because they were not all the way submerged in oil (what? the turkey was too big for the fryer, I told you we were feeding a lot of people) no one died of food poisoning and the experience was so positive we have never had our Thanksgiving turkeys cooked any other way since.

So in true Krazy Kelly (no that is not going to be my call sign @muftopmommy or @linda_grimes, but nice try) fashion I decided to make the shower cake myself.  Now you know these things are supposed to be works of art right?  I mean, its not like I can just bake up an instant box sheet cake and pass that off as a work of art.  So I have been researching.  I have worked diligently to find the right cake or in this case, cakes to make and am pretty sure I am ready.

I am making a kickin baby cake that is supposed to look something like this. I am just hoping it turns out.  And wanting to be completely honest, I picked this cake based solely on the fact that it looked easy enough for me to make.  I know.  I did say EASY.

Now for those of you who are not in the know, the base layer on that is fondant and the footprints, which by the way, are just too cute , are made of something called color fill.  While I had heard of fondant, you can't go to a wedding these days without seeing it on the cake, I had never heard of the other.  After trying to figure out a way to do it, and failing, I have decided to frost the cake with regular frosting and make the footprints in fondant and set them on top of the cake as a decoration.  

I made the fondant last night and to be honest it turned out to be pretty easy.  I found a recipe that used marshmallows, crisco and about thirty pounds of powdered sugar.  Yeah, this is a walking heart attack alright.  The best part was playing with it when it was done.  I am so looking forward to cutting the feet out.  

So today I am only working half a day because I need the next twenty-four hours to get ready.  Keep your fingers crossed for me, or maybe just your toes.  Kay, thanks.

Humor that falls a little flat...ulence

I am going to apologize in advance.  My sister-in-law sent this to me yesterday and I thought it was just silly enough to share today. 

 

Enjoy!

 

Did Phillip fart?

..and he probably does all the time.  What the heck, he's almost ninety, and at that age you don't hold anything back even if you wanted to!



              The expressions are priceless!

                  Look at the Queen's face!
A fart is a pleasant thing,
It gives the belly ease,
It warms the bed in winter,
And suffocates the fleas.

A fart can be quiet,
A fart can be loud,
Some leave a powerful,
Poisonous cloud

A fart can be short,
Or a fart can be long,
Some farts have been known
To sound like a song......

A fart can create
A most curious medley,
A fart can be harmless,
Or silent, and deadly.
A fart might not smell,
While others are vile,
A fart may pass quickly,
Or linger a while......

A fart can occur
In a number of places,
And leave everyone there,
With strange looks on their faces .
From wide-open prairie,
To small elevators,
A fart will find all of
Us sooner or later. 

Kinda brings a tear to your eye !

Taking it to the blog

Recently something happened to me personally and I am unsure how to respond to it.

It has nothing to do with writing or my aspirations as an author.  

It has nothing to do with anything frivolous (at least not to me).

But I am finding myself unsure I can be one of those people who takes everything to her blog.  I would love to get some insight into the problem, but it does not effect me alone.  If others where to read it, they may be upset with the notion that I had even discussed it outside of the "family".

I guess my question today is this; when you have a problem and you don't know where to turn for help do you put it out there for the masses?  

I ask the question because I am also questioning my desire for vindication.  Do I want to be right because I am or do I just want to be right?  

Good news: you never stop growing up.  Bad news: sometimes you still don't like the answers.

Birthday wishes before an F&G Update

Okay ladies and gents...welcome to the next installment of Fun and Games with K&K.  I am up on deck.  But first, today is my partner in crime's birthday so make sure you head over to her blog and leave her a birthday greeting or you can hunt her down on twitter here or on facebook here. 

And as always, tell us what you think.

The first person Jack Monroe saw when he arrived on the surgical floor was Harper Simonson.  Rushing forward, he stopped abruptly and demanded, “Harper!  What happened?  Where’s Gracie?”

 

Harper leaned into the tall, lanky boy standing next to her and said, “Mr. Monroe, I’m so sorry,” before bursting into tears.  

Owen held out his hand, “Mr. Monroe, my name is Owen Lancaster, sir.  I’m friends with your daughter.”

Shaking the young man’s hand, Jack asked, “Can you tell me what happened?”  Looking toward the nurse’s station, he hoped to catch a doctor or someone who could fill him in.  All that he got from the voice mail Mrs. Maguire left was that Grace was shot, which made absolutely no sense.  

“Jack?”

The tall man turned and faced Harper’s father.  “Dill. Hello.”

Dill Simonson clasped Jack Monroe on the back and said, “Let’s take a walk.”

“I need to see my daughter first. “

“I know.” Harper’s dad replied.  He was using his soothing voice, the one that if you knew him, signaled trouble.  It was obvious Grace’s dad knew this too because at Dill’s words Jack Monroe folded over into himself.  His shoulders hunched forward and his tan lost some of its color.  Nodding, he latched onto Harper’s father like a lifeline.

“I don’t understand.  What the hell happened?” was the last thing Owen heard as the two men moved away.

Owen wrapped his arms around Harper even as he whispered, “That’s what I’d like to know, too.  What the hell happened?”

Harper went statue still.  Pushing herself out of Owen’s arms, she looked at the sign over his shoulder to avoid facing him.  Maybe if she didn’t look him in the eye, it would be easier.  Grief Counseling and Grief Therapy Room 956.  She really hoped it didn’t come to that, but made a mental note of the room number just in case.  Her eyes swiveled to the opposite wall.  Chapel: Open 24 hours.  Now that was probably a good idea.  Where was the exit or no smoking signs when you needed them?

“Harper?”  Saved by her brother.  Turning, green eyes smacked into green eyes.  “We need to talk.”

Dipping her head, she pulled out of Owen’s arms and fell into step next to her sibling.

Truman wanted to scream at someone, anyone.  If they didn’t get answers soon, he was going to…  Okay, he had no idea what he was going to do, but sitting around the waiting room was driving him ape-shit crazy.  Heading for the elevator, he put his frustration into pushing the down button.  Repeatedly.  

As the elevator dinged its arrival, the automatic doors to their right with Authorized Personnel Only in giant red letters swooshed open, and a doctor in scrubs with blood stains on the front came through.  She was carrying a clip board and leafing through the paperwork as she headed for the nurses’ station.  “Lisa,” she called to the nurse behind the counter, “I was paged that her father has arrived.”

The pretty blonde nurse gestured to Jack Monroe who was already moving in the surgeon’s direction, a concerned Dill Simonson right on his heels.

“Mr. Monroe?”

“Yes, yes, I’m Jack Monroe, Gracie’s dad.”

“Hello, I’m Dr. Stanton.  I was on duty in the ER when your daughter was brought in and I accompanied her into surgery.  I asked the nurses to page me when you arrived so I could give you an update.”

At the sound of the doctor’s voice, the occupants of the waiting room flooded into the hall.  Mrs. Maguire stopped at Jack’s side while Grace’s cousin moved to his other one.  Truman forgot about getting on the elevator and inched closer to hear what the doctor had to say.

“Your daughter was very lucky Mr. Monroe.”

“Not so lucky, doc.  She was shot,”  Truman said soberly.

Mortified, Mrs. Simonsons admonished, “Truman!”

The doctor gave Truman a tight smile before turning back to Mr. Monroe and continuing soberly, “Yes, well, what I mean to say is that it could have been much worse.  Grace has a collapsed lung where the bullet penetrated, but thankfully, it missed her heart.  Dr. Grayson is working to repair the damage, but she will be in surgery for a while longer.  Right now, her vitals look good.  I wish there was more to tell you at this time.”

“You’re saying she is going to be okay though, right?” Truman demanded.  

“I’m saying that she is in the best possible hands right now.  Dr. Grayson is very good, but we will know more once the surgery is done and Grace is moved to recovery.”  Looking around the motley group assembled, she offered another smile and continued, “I don’t like to make promises, but it looks good.”

“How much longer will she be in surgery,” her father asked, emotion charging his voice.

“Mr. Monroe, it’s difficult to say.  I promise someone will be out to update you periodically, and you will be advised once she is moved to recovery.”

Jack Monroe watched the lady doctor head back the way she came.  Through doors that lead directly to his kid.  How had this happened?  Blindly, he moved toward them, stopping and looking through the twin windows hoping for a glimpse of his baby girl.  What if she died?  What if he never got to say all the things he wanted to say to her?  What if he didn’t have time to fix things?  He didn’t think he could go through this again.

Harper watched Grace’s dad pinch his nose over eyes squeezed tightly shut, and guilt reared its ugly head once again.  He seemed so sad and alone and she wondered if Grace had been wrong.  Maybe it wasn’t that her dad didn’t care.  Maybe it was that he cared too much.  

She wanted to go and offer some comfort but wasn’t sure she was the right one for the job.  Before she could force her feet to move in his direction, her father materialized beside her and took her hand, “Honey, its time.  We have to finish the interview and tell the police what happened.”

“Not now, dad.  Can’t we at least wait until Grace is out of surgery?”

“I’m sorry kiddo, but no, we can’t wait.” Dill Simonson looked down into green eyes so like his own, even as his hands dropped to rest on her shoulders.  At that moment, all he wanted to do was sit down in that hospital corridor and hug his baby girl, grateful she wasn’t the one being worked on in that operating room.  Things could have been so different.

Blinking back the moisture, he looked up and watched his son pacing up and down the hallway.  Truman looked worse than Harper.  They both loved Grace, although Dill suspected Truman’s feelings were more complicated.    Please let her by alright. 

As much as he wanted to let Harper have her reprieve, he knew he couldn’t.   It wouldn’t be fair to Grace.  She had thrown herself in front of that madman this morning and taken a bullet intended for his daughter.  He owed it to her and to her father to get to the bottom of what happened once and for all.  

Reading: It does the body good.

I spent my weekend studying. 

There are just some authors, no matter what the title, if they write it; I buy it.

Recently I found a new one.  I love her style.

She has about twenty books that I haven't read.  So yesterday I spent the day lazing around and just reading.  Of course as a writer, I tell myself I am not just doing this just for enjoyment, I am doing it to learn.  I find myself studying styles, word usage, character conflict and resolution.  I finished three of her books yesterday alone.

And it makes it easier for me to while a whole day away doing nothing more than reading if I feel like I am getting something out of it besides just a good story.  Work with me here people, I do know how ridiculous it sounds.  I live in my own head, don't I?  This is just one example of the crazy mind games I like to play with myself.  It's either that or I spend the next three days feeling guilty because nothing got done around the house.

Don't judge; it works for me.

Recently, I find I am especially interested in how people write their characters out of sticky situations.  Mine seem to be really good at getting themselves into these problem areas, but not great on resolutions.  And it bugs me.  So I study.  See?

So that was how I spent my Sunday, what did you do?

The Scent takes me back

I finished the book last night.  Scent of the Missing by Susannah Charleson.

Unlike Patty and Abby I didn't miss the lack of more search and rescues being performed in the book.  Quite honestly it relieved me.  It's one thing to be drawn into a fictional story because it's, well, fictional.  But while reading a non-fictional story the idea that there are real folks out there missing their loved ones had my gut wrenching.

The things that surprised me were how long and how intense the actual training for SAR teams are and the fact that you can spend years volunteering before you ever get picked to participate.  That is some dedication.  And at such a personal cost to the volunteer.  They pay their own way, they give up huge chunks of their time-willingly.  It was truly inspiring and made me want to go out and volunteer for something.

Of course I am a selfish sort so I was able to content myself with the duty I did for county (so what if it was a long time ago and so what if I did get paid for it) and know that at one time I was a good person too.

These days I am a cat person, but that wasn't always the case.  Growing up I got a dog when I was ten.  His name was J.J. and he passed away when I was twenty-two.  But growing up he was always by my side.  He loved to run and play and he disliked my water-bed.  I had one as a teenager and he absolutely hated it.  But if I were sick, he would stand by the side, sigh heavily, look at me with those glass bottle green eyes and get up there with me.  As if to say, "See, this is what I do for you."

He was a shaggy mutt that we rescued, but there was no other male in my life that loved me as much as he did during my teenage years.  When I was 19, I left home for the Navy.  I came home on leave and visits and each time he heard my voice he would tear through the house in his haste to get to me.  As the years passed he grew slower but our joy in each other never dimmed.  

In the last months of his life my Gram didn't tell me how sick he really was.  She didn't want me to freak out or worry.  I was in Japan and there was really nothing I could do.  We made the pilgrimage home that Halloween.   We only stayed two weeks but J.J., now more frail then ever and obviously coming to the end of his life still stuck by my side and acted as if I had never been gone.  

He died the day after Christmas that year and he left a hole a in my heart that has never really healed.  Of course the passage of time has made it easier and new little ones have come into my life.  But he was the first.  My first pet.  My first dog.  My first love.

The book had me thinking...would he have made a good rescue dog and honestly; I don't know.  My memories are those now tempered with age.  But I can tell you this.  He was good enough for me.

Book Hungry's on the Scent

This months selection for the Book Hungry club was Scent of the Missing by Susanna Charleson

Here is the description from Amazon:

In the wake of the Oklahoma City bombing, Susannah Charleson clipped a photo from the newspaper: an exhausted canine handler, face buried in the fur of his search-and-rescue dog. A dog lover and pilot with search experience herself, Susannah was so moved by the image that she decided to volunteer with a local canine team and soon discovered firsthand the long hours, nonexistent pay, and often heart-wrenching results they face. 

Still she felt the call, and once she qualified to train a dog of her own, she adopted Puzzle, a strong, bright Golden Retriever puppy who exhibited unique aptitudes as a working dog but who was less interested in the role of compliant house pet. Puzzle's willfulness and high drive, both assets in the field, challenged even Susannah, who had raised dogs for years.

Today I am supposed to offer up some witty insight to the book that was selected for us this month by our very own Cynthia Reese.  Unfortunately, I didn't read it.  Not that I didn't want to, or it didn't interest me.  Quite honestly, I just forgot.  

I know, I feel pretty bad about it too.  

I still plan to read the book.  In fact, I already bought the book.  I just didn't get to the reading part yet. 

So make sure you stop over and see what everyone else thinks of the book, but before you go, did you read it?  If so what did you think.  And since I never have enough books on my TBR pile (which really isn't a pile since I read on my kindle) have you read anything good lately?

Share please.

Fun & Games: Things just went from bad to worse

Okay, so last week Karla caught us up, but if you thought the drama was all about what happened at the party...well you were so wrong.  Hold on to your seats!

Grace woke up feeling all shiny and bright.  So what if she only had three hours of sleep?  That was why God invented Starbucks.  And sleep was over-rated anyway.  She could do that when she was dead, right?  She had no regrets.  After they both came to the agreement that they weren’t supposed to get involved right now (emphasis on the right now)Grace and Truman decided that didn’t preclude them from spending every minute together until he went back to school.

 

Smiling, she rose and went through her morning ritual.  After her shower, she spent a quick ten minutes dressing and putting on her make-up as she anticipated the day ahead.  Okay, they weren’t technically dating, but maybe they could be friends with benefits.  Her smile broadened on that thought, and she wondered what Truman would say if she suggested it.    When the shiver of excitement danced down her back, she decided to hurry so she could swing into Starbucks before heading to his house.

He promised her a good morning kiss if she showed up with coffee, and she wasn’t going to look that gift horse in the mouth.

Detouring by the guest room, Grace laughed at the Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the door handle before she sailed into the kitchen to let Mrs. Maguire know she was leaving.   After a twenty minute conversation regarding some odd noises on the roof the night before, Grace was on her way.

Pulling up in front of the Simonson’s, Grace’s smile didn’t waiver when she spotted Owen and Harper in the drive standing by his truck.  She was just in too good of a mood.  As she parked, she made sure to leave plenty of room for him to back out but didn’t acknowledge them in any other way.  It looked as if they were heading out together.  Good for Harper.  Maybe she would finally tell Owen what happened at the party.

Pulling her emergency brake, she grabbed the coffees and stepped from the car.

She was still pissed at Harper but decided she wasn’t going to let that ruin the day.  Her gaze was immediately drawn to the second story window she knew to be Truman’s.  Sure enough, his face was pressed to the glass, and he was grinning down at her.  A matching smile, more blindingly bright than the one she’d been sporting all morning lit her face.  

A movement in the corner of her eye alerted Grace that Harper was moving toward her.  She waved her off, her visit wasn’t about Harper, and she didn’t want to chance any of her bright and shiny wearing off.  Winking at Truman, she lifted the cardboard carrier to show him she remembered the coffees and giggled when he held up the bottle of mouthwash in his hand.  

That was the last happy thought she had before fear and anguish wrapped around her throat and squeezed.

The screeching of the tires behind her had Grace’s head turning to the street.  The dark sedan slamming to a stop at the end of the drive stopped her in her tracks.  She recognized Ben Mickelson from school. He was a band geek same as Harper.  Sadness settled like a cloak around her shoulders.  Things were already starting to change.  Harper and Ben didn’t hang out.  At least, they didn’t used to.  

Grace glanced over, and the frozen expression on Harper’s face perplexed her for a moment.  The light switch clicked, even as the angry young man charged.  “You fucking bitch!”  

Tracking his movements around the front of the car, Grace eyeballed the gun in his hand.  Her confusion lasted less than a second before adrenaline kicked in.  She watched in fascination as he raised the weapon and took aim.  Later, she would look back and wonder what compelled her to do what she did next, but at that moment, no thought was greater than her fear of what he would do to her friend.   She dropped the coffees and rushed in front of Harper as she screamed at the top of her lungs, “No!”

The gun shot rang out loud on the quiet suburban street as it made contact and pierced flesh.  Grace’s body jerked from the impact as it forced her backward.  Almost as if someone invisible slammed into her.  Harper and Owen started to yell and there was a great commotion around her as her body dropped to the cold concrete.   

Looking toward the upstairs window she caught one last sight of Truman, the blood draining from his face before he turned and disappeared.  

The sound of her heart beat was deafening.  Ba-bump.  Ba-bump.  With movement rushing all around her, all she could hear was the sound of it echoing in her head.  Ba-bump.  Ba-bump.  Almost as if the force of the beat was lifting her up and setting her back down.  Gently.  Ba-bump.  Ba-bump.  In a surreal daze, she noticed that she was blinking more than normal and wondered what could be causing that?  She would need to look that up when she got home.  

People were spilling out of the house to her left, and the light was fading overhead before she realized Harper was kneeling beside her, sobbing.  Sirens screeched in the distance, and she hoped the sound didn’t bother the neighbors.  She wanted to tell Harper something, but she couldn’t remember what it was.  

Locking eyes with Harper,  her friend’s head bobbing up and down and her mouth moving, Grace had no idea what she was saying.  Harper didn’t look too good.  Like maybe she was going to throw up.  

Feeling the darkness pushing in, she turned her head and looked up.  Or maybe she just readjusted her eyes.  She wasn’t sure.  She caught a puffy cloud chugging past.  Soft and billowy.  Grace yearned to close her eyes and sink into something just like that.  Her last thought before unconsciousness settled over her was she really hoped she hadn’t spilled too much of Truman’s coffee or he wouldn’t be giving her that morning kiss after all.

Okay, tell us what you think.  This story just went in a whole new direction huh? Check in tomorrow to see where Karla takes it. 

Happy Birthday Lizzie Girl!

Today one of my favorite people is having a birthday.  

She is 15.

I started to think back to when I turned 15 and I found myself laughing.  Her poor parents.  What they are in store for.  

So here it is...When I was 15.

When I was 15 I thought I knew everything. 

When I was 15 it was a leap year.

When I was 15 Ronald Reagan was President

When I was 15 The Apple Macintosh was introduced.  

When I was 15 the Winter Olympics were held in Sarajevo and Summer Olympics were held in Los Angeles.

When I was 15 Vanessa Williams resigned as Miss America after nude photos of her appeared in Penthouse.

When I was 15 Dynasty was the number one TV show. 

When I was 15 Footloose was my favorite movie.

When I was 15 the two biggest songs of the year were Jump by Van Halen (when they were the real Van Halen) and When Doves Cry by Prince.

When I was 15 the number one film was Ghostbusters.

And finally,

When I was 15 Bon Jovi released their debut album which had the hit single Runaway on it.  (It should have been Song of the Year but they were robbed.)

Man does that take me back, thank God I am not getting old.

Lizzie girl, we love you and hope your day is freaking fantastic!

The Twitter you know...

I have been on a self imposed twitter sabbatical this week.  And it is killing me.  No, I am not sitting around rocking in my chair wondering what is going on.  I am actually way to busy for that.  But I do miss the interaction and the camaraderie that I get from my twitter moments.

Working from a home office as I now do does pose some challenges, especially when it comes to people interaction.  For example I had to go to the dentist yesterday and it was the highpoint of the week.  Mainly because it got me out of the house.  It quickly went down hill when the Doc broke my back molar and advised me another filling would have to be replaced and a crown was now needed on a tooth that was completely okay before I sat down in his chair.  In his defense he is a great dentist, even if he does enjoy inflicting pain on others.  

Okay, I have digressed.  Back to the reason for my self-imposed twitter sabbatical.  I have been working on a data project that was pretty intimidating.  The job itself is easy enough, but I need all the free time at my desk that I have to get it done.  I am easily distracted by twitter if I have it on.  So, instead, I decided to keep it turned off.  I thought that it would be easy, a piece of cake.  For the most part it has been.  I have stayed away, but then yesterday when I was at the doctor's office, my phone alerted me that there was a tweet that mentioned me.  It was from my writing bud @lastword0520 telling me she was done with her next installment.  

The point of my story.  There is always someone else you can blame if you find yourself doing something you weren't supposed to be doing.  And that's a great segue way, Karla is back today with the latest in Fun and Games. Check it out here. Don't you like how I did that?

Funniest Dog Video EVER!

You guys are getting a video today because I had a whole post written and my blog ate it. 

And besides...who doesn't like cute dogs?



I love this dog.  He gets so happy about FOOD!

Keeping my motivation

If you read my entry yesterday you know that I have a new voice in my head.  He is pretty persistent.  And normally that would be enough for me to ditch the WIP I am currently spending all of my free time with to check this new idea out.  

In the course of full disclosure, I did spend some time the other night getting a rough draft of the story down, because, well Cutter wouldn't leave me alone.  It was weird, like he knew me.  

But then last night I went back to editing.  For a couple of reasons.  Mainly because I am still excited about the story I was originally working on.  As I sat down to write, the words literally flowed from my brain to my fingers.  I have never had a story come to me that effortlessly.  Literally every scene unfolded like I was watching a movie with the dialogue ringing loud and clear. 

So even though Cutter is still there, yammering at me to get his story told, I felt it was only right to continue on with Finn's.  He was here first.  And last night was a success.  I put my foot down with Cutter-so to speak.  I promised him he will get my undivided attention just as soon I get the bulk of this one completed.  

Does this happen to you?  Do you have one character in your head trying to get out even as you are working on sewing up the last one?  And when you do, what is your secret?  How do you make it work.  In the past for me I would move on to to the new story, but I am afraid if I do that Finn and his lady love will be relegated to files that are never worked on again and I really don't want that to happen this time.  So pass on those words of wisdom, I could use them today.  To keep me motivated.

I guess if all else fails, I could just head to the store for more chocolate.  I am not really a carrot kind of gal, unless they are the sparkly kind.

Be careful what you ask for

Well inevitably it has happened again.  

I was in the middle of the edit for the story I was so hot and heavy for last weekend and suddenly I heard a new voice in my head.  He was very insistent.  He had a story to tell and he wanted me to get it all down.  

I tried explaining to him that Finn had my attention right then.  But he didn't like it.  He explained his name was Cutter and his story was important too, and if I would just pay attention for a few minutes I would understand.

I tried turning up the music.  He didn't like what I was listening to.  Suddenly the music that had inspired my last writing frenzy was not good enough.  He suggested something else.  Grudgingly I changed the music.  

That was not a good idea.  Because it was like opening a flood gate and suddenly I couldn't shut Cutter up.  He wanted to tell me his story and he wasn't going to leave me alone until I listened.  To the whole thing.  

My listening process involves a keyboard so I was up until the wee hours of the morning "listening" to Cutter.  (Who by the way is actually very charming, when he is not being so pigheaded.)  I was only able to condense it into about 5300 words, and even as I write this post this morning and get ready for my work day he is still at it; trying to get my attention.  He even offered up chocolate.  That is just so unfair.  

So now I have this long day in front of me, where I have work I need to complete and a hero in my head-a really hot one-who is not going to rest until he thinks I have a good handle on his story.  

When I was praying for my writing mojo to come back I had no idea it was going to come at me 75 miles an hour and plow me over with a semi.  God, I love my life!

Remebering....and feeling grateful

Today I find myself feeling grateful for the little things.

This weekend we are celebrating mother's day and the one person who was the most influential in my life.  The "mom" I had growing up is no longer here with me.  

When I was a kid I went to live with my Grandmother.  She was a spitfire.  All five feet of her.  She didn't put up with my crap.  Truthfully I wasn't a bad kid, just a moody one.  Hey, I was a teenager.  But we managed to cross that generation gap and co-exist peacefully until I left at eighteen for the Navy.

She was there for every major thing that ever happened in my life.  First boyfriend.  First heart break.  Winning the History Fair. (Okay, I was a geek.) Graduation. Joining the Navy.  Graduating bootcamp.  Graduating A School.

I was one of the lucky ones.  

F&G with K&K will be on a little hiatus.  Karla's just lost her grandmother.  And while we have appreciated everyone's support of our story, she needs to take some time to spend with her family getting through this.  We should be back soon, but in the meantime keep her in your thoughts and prayers.

And just know I am not the one keeping every one from finding out what really happened at the party!

Just saying.  (Yes this is me throwing her under the bus.  I really am a good friend.)

Editing...my least favorite part of the process

I am in editing hell.

There really is no other way to say it and this is my least favorite part of the writing process.  Seriously, ask Karla.

I spent the past weekend banging out an amazing amount of words for a full story.  I story boarded the entire thing from start to finish.  Saw how each part of the story was going to go.  Was so excited with the hero and heroine.  They were coming across exactly how I saw them.

The dialogue was fast and witty.  Their chemistry is right on.  

But then the editing started.  And by editing I mean filling in the rest of the story.  The background.  The back story (I got some great secondary characters here) and filler.  Let's face it, my story can't just be all conversation.  Well, it could.  But then wouldn't that just be a screen play? 

Now, I find I am dragging my feet on getting back to the story.  I don't want to be one of those writers that just has the good ideas.  Or can just see the story, I want to be one of those that can bring it to the page.  

Tell me how you fall back in love when the editing starts?

My bright and shiny day

Perspective.

Geography.

These have been themes for me for a couple of days now.  For example, I woke up this morning, not happy, not sad.  Just facing the day, with a mental review of what needs to be done.  Work, groceries, stop by the pet store for cat food.  Just a regular evening of errands.

I walked into my office and powered everything up and checked my phone.  Its my little morning ritual.  I missed a call from the hubs.  I swear, I felt like Meg Ryan in You Got Mail.  So sue me-its a favorite.  Anyway, I didn't waste time checking the voice mail I just called him back right away.  

He was just letting me know he is on his way home.  Yeah!

My day went from drab and dreary to bright and shiny.  In the blink of an eye.

I know that I have been married for twenty years.  But I think that as time passes and you spend it with that one special someone you maybe take the little things for granted.  Like going to bed with someone.  (Get your mind out of the gutter.)  I mean, just getting into bed at the end of the day and having that persons breathing be the last thing you hear.  I have missed that.

So this post goes out to all my married friends, even the ones who are in a sour place right now.  Push through it, because tomorrow really can be a bright and shiny new day.

F&G Update: Is Grace going to Oxford?

Okay, it's my turn with F&G this week and can I just say, I love Truman!

Tell me what you think.

The house finally settled for the night.  It took Abby one bowl of pasta and two glasses of wine before she decided she needed some rest.  By all rights, Grace should’ve been just as tired as her cousin: her day had sucked.  Instead, she found herself in bed, Seether pumping through her ear buds.

 

When the music failed to soothe, she pulled off the head set and rolled over to face the wall.  Snuggling down, she tried to get comfortable but was jarred by the sound of boots on the roof.  Since it wasn’t Christmas Eve and she no longer believed in Santa Clause, there was only one other person she knew who would be dumb enough to climb on the roof. 

 

Sliding from the bed, she inched across the room just as the shadowy figure appeared in front of the window.   It never occurred to Grace to be scared.  Only one person had ever gained entry this way.  Pushing back the window covering, Grace had a moment’s pleasure at catching Truman off guard.

“Jesus Christ, Grace,” Truman hissed, losing his balance and teetering to the side.  Reaching out, he made purchase with the window sill, even as Grace was raising the glass pane.

“Truman?  What are you doing here?  Do you know what time it is?”  Grace whispered furiously and stepped back and watched as Truman used both hands to hoist himself in through the window.

 

Adrenaline his co-pilot, he overshot the distance and came through the window a little fast, landing face down at Graces’ feet.  Rolling over, he waited a beat, trying to catch his breath.  “That used to be easier.”  Sitting up, he gingerly moved his legs and arms ensuring everything still worked properly.

“And you used to be smaller.”  The last time Truman shimmied up the porch post he had been fourteen, five inches shorter and twenty pounds lighter.

Turning on the bedside lamp, Grace crossed her arms and grudgingly asked, “Are you okay?”

Pushing himself up, he stood directly in front of her and replied, “That was my question for you.”

On a deep sigh, Grace dropped her arms, which was all the invitation Truman needed.  He wrapped her in a tight hug, pressing his lips against the side of her head.  “I am so sorry about what happened tonight. “

Standing stiffly inside the circle of his arms, Grace tried to fight the rise of emotions that threatened.  Concentrating on breathing in through her nose and out through mouth, she told herself over and over to just breathe.

Combatting her rigid posture, Truman started to rub her back with one hand even as the other anchored her to his chest, not wanting to let go.  Murmuring words of comfort-nonsense words that had no meaning- he kept at it until her reticence faded, and she slowly melted against him.   Taking his first solid breath since the scene had unfolded earlier he became aware of their exact circumstance. 

 

Grace was in his arms, garbed in only a pair of cotton shorts and thin tank.  He could feel the press of her chest against his even through the thickness of his sweater.  His body started to respond in another way and not wanting to freak her out, he eased away under the pretense of removing his leather jacket.  Dropping to the side of her bed, he pulled her down with him, “Are you okay?”

Lowering her head to his shoulder, she whispered, “No.”

Knowing that things really were changing, Truman hugged her once more before letting go so he could face her.  Smiling, he asked, “Oxford?”

Rubbing at her forehead, a ghost of a smile flitted across her mouth.  “Yeah, Oxford.”

“Grace.  That’s amazing.  I am so proud of you.  It’s everything you ever wanted.” 

 

He really was happy for her.  She could see it in the sparkle of his eyes and the lift of his lips.  Grace shrugged and whispered, “I don’t know if I am going to go.”

“But we both know you have to,” he volleyed back.

“Do we?”  

“Yes.  We do. This has been your dream since you were a kid.  Harper was right about that tonight.   You have to go.  And not just for you.  If you give up going to Oxford, that will make it easier for her to turn down Julliard.  She won’t leave you. You have to be the one to say goodbye.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about that right now.”  Then his words sank in.  “Wait a minute.  She got into Julliard?  I didn’t even know she applied.  She said she was thinking about the New England Conservatory of Music. “

Smiling, “She applied for both and her acceptance letter for New England came in two weeks ago.  But she heard from Julliard on Wednesday.”

Feeling another emotional wave, this one a surge of happiness for her friend, she threw her arms around Truman. “That’s. So. Great.”

Grace wanted to be angry that Harper hadn’t told her, but she couldn’t find it in her.  At least not at that moment, because it had just occurred to her that she was wearing a thin shirt and she was pressed very intimately up against Truman.  She was exactly where she wanted to be which reminded her that she wasn’t all that sure she could go to Oxford.

Leaning back, she looked into his eyes.  “Maybe it’s not so much that I don’t know if I am going to go, more like I don’t know if I want to go now.”

Understanding dawning, Truman brushed her bangs out of her eyes and said, “You have to go.  I want you to go.  Okay, I don’t want you to go, but you have to.  This is really big, Gracie.  And if you don’t go, you’ll always look back and wonder what if.  No one should live their lives wondering what if.”

Easing away from his embrace, Grace took a deep breath and said, “You’re right.  But-“

Covering her soft lips with his finger, he rushed, “No buts.  The future’s coming faster than you think.  It’s just not the right time for you and me right now. “

Closing her eyes, a single tear escaped as she replied, “But I wanted right now to be the right time for us.”

Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, “Yeah, me too.”