I believe in Santa Claus

I happened across an airing of Miracle on 34th Street a few days ago and it brought up the subject of Santa Claus. I’ve participated in many a lively debate on the subject over the years, and the classic movie put a lovely point on the topic for me.

The debate with my friends was about at what age children should be told the truth about Santa. And if Santa is even relevant in this day and age. 

I believed in Santa Claus as a child. 

It is one of the strongest, most vivid memories I have from childhood. In fact, if I think back, I could probably recall at least one present from each year I believed. Santa Claus is quite simply the definition of the “magic” of childhood. I think I knew the truth long before it was confirmed, but I didn’t want to stop believing, so I held on for as long as I could. I was almost twelve when I finally had the indisputable proof. But because my younger sister still believed, I was able to hold on to the magic for a few more years through her. 

And that is what it is all about for me. The magic. It is something every child should feel and every adult wishes they could recapture. 

Finding out there is no Santa Claus is the first official step away from childhood. And it’s a steep step that most of us spend the rest of our lives trying to back track. At least a little. Even if it’s just once a year. 

While my children were little, because of their belief in Santa Claus, my house was again filled with the magic of Christmas. It wasn’t quite the same as when I was a child, but it is the closest I have ever come to that wonderment from my childhood. 

It certainly doesn’t stop me from trying to recapture it each year. I still watch the classic Christmas specials like Rudolph, Frosty, and Charlie Brown. I immerse myself in the twinkling lights, Christmas carols, and frosted cookies until my memories swirl around me like a tornado of snowflakes on Christmas Eve and Santa Claus becomes real again. 

When my children asked me, so many years ago, if Santa was real, I told them that Santa was as real as we believed he was. I still consider this to be the truth. 

Christmas is the one time of year when believing in magic is not just for children… because Santa real if you believe.

And I believe in Santa Claus.

Until the next time…I’ll be hanging my stocking by the chimney with care.

it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Cue the music...

I have a tree!

My tree

And not just a tree. I have a decorated tree. (And no it’s not the same one I left up until Thanksgiving.) It’s a new tree. A fresh cut tree. With lights and ornaments. I even have a wreath on the door. And a few assorted decorations scattered around the house. Even a few jingle bells hanging from the antlers on the wall. Why not? It’s Christmas!

I mailed Christmas cards! Did you catch that? I. Mailed. Cards. Me! Crazy, I know. I’ve made history, and it’s not even the middle of the month yet.

But let’s face it, my December will be crazy busy. Thanks in part to my new book (Suddenly Sorceress) coming out later this month… and all the excitement that brings. And of course, all the kids will be home for the holidays, so I have to decorate as if it’s the North Pole. And let’s not forget the birthdays (mine, and the hubby,) plus our anniversary, and we can’t forget the Christmas parties.

Whew! I’m exhausted just thinking about it.

But thanks to Amazon and the UPS guy, I’m almost done with my shopping. Though, I fear my neighbors suspect I’m having a thing with the not-so-hunky delivery guy. He’s been here almost every day…dodging barking turkeys and bird poop.

Now, I have a sudden urge to decorate and bake. I might even paint something. Well…maybe not paint. But I’m definitely going to hang wreaths on all the windows, and some lights on the porch.

And yes…a little more shopping. I have so many to shop for this Christmas. I’m making a list and checking it twice. Gotta figure out who’s naughty…who’s nice.

And for my readers? Well…I have a few surprises in my stockings for you too! But you’ll have to wait for the day after Christmas.

Until the next time…I’ll be covered in flour!

close call

Today's post is a book promo for a dear friend of mine. Her new book was just released! It's a cross between Bridget Jones and the Vagina Monologues.  

Check it out!

Blurb:

Twenty-two year-old Jemma can’t seem to get her life in order. Her track record with men stinks, she constantly worries about getting fat and ending up a spinster at thirty. And to top it off, she has to be a bridesmaid at her most-hated cousin’s wedding. She feels like her life is over, until Doris decides to help out. Who’s Doris? Doris is Jemma’s vagina, and she thinks more of Jemma than her own brain does. Doris is on a mission to save Jemma from herself, but is the task too much for one vagina to handle?

About the author:

Eloise March is a woman who laughs at her own jokes, swears way too much and breaks any new diet by lunchtime on the day she starts. She believes in women’s equality, and all equality for that matter, and hopes the things she writes touch people in a positive way, and make them think about how they can create a better society for themselves and others.

In her spare time, she enjoys living as her alter ego, Dionne Lister — a suspense and YA fantasy author who is way too embarrassed to talk about vaginas. She likes spending time as Dionne because Dionne has an awesome family, wonderful friends and a cat called Lily, oh, and she has great hair.

If you’re looking for Eloise, or any information about future books in the Doris & Jemma Vadgeventure series, you can visit Dionne’s website, where Eloise has been lucky enough to get her own page http://www.dionnelisterwriter.com. If you’re looking for a chat, you can find Ms March on Twitter.

Links to the book: Amazon and Smashwords

talking turkey

Wow...has it been a week since I last posted a blog? I seriously need to get out of my funk and get back to blogging. But it's been a crazy year. I have a book coming out on the day after Christmas, so I have lots to do before then. My first task has been tackling the dreaded Christmas cards. And in a crazy twist of fate, for the first time in over a decade, I may actually mail them. I'll have to send out a mass message letting people know I didn't die. (I once stated if people started getting Christmas cards from me, it was surely my estate, after having found my stash of never-mailed cards and my final will stating they should send those suckers out.) I'll just say it now...rumors of my death are probably gross exaggerations.

As far as my Thanksgiving, it was a darn good one. I started my morning with a bit of television nostalgia.  A friend posted a clip from WKRP in Cincinnati, one of my favorite shows from back in the day. It was the Thanksgiving episode where the fictitious radio station did a “turkey drop” releasing dozens of turkeys from an airplane.  Of course, the punch line was, turkeys can’t fly. 

But I happen to know turkeys can fly, though perhaps not when dropped from a plane, but they certainly can fly from one side of my fence to the other. Even if they can't figure out how to get back once they do. And they can most definitely fly from one side of the highway to the other.  My sister once totaled her car hitting a turkey. She didn’t even try to avoid it. My mother had always told her not to swerve for birds; they will get out of the way at the last minute. 

For the record, that rule does NOT apply to turkeys. Turkeys will NOT get out of the way at the last minute.  They will dent the hood, then the roof of your car, shattering your windshield on the way. For a bird, they do a great imitation of a deer when you hit them.  I guess it’s a little like driving fifty-five miles per hour down the highway and having someone toss a bowling ball into your path.  At least that’s what my husband said when he finished laughing at the story of my sister and the turkey.

When it comes to turkey facts, my husband is full of them.  Out of the blue yesterday, he mentioned the statistics of how many people blow themselves up while attempting to deep fry a turkey for Thanksgiving.  Apparently, you can’t deep fry a frozen turkey.  Who knew? Hubby did.  Obviously, as a native of New York State, I have never even considered deep frying my turkey. I'm pretty sure it's not a "Yankee" tradition. And for the record, I've also never cooked it with the bag of innards still inside the bird.  But with my track record in the kitchen, it’s a wonder I haven’t done worse.  Then again, I suppose there isn't much worse than sending a turkey into space on the tail of a deep fryer.

As for us, we had a fairly uneventful Thanksgiving. Well, after the actual execution of poor Carter A. Turkey--this year's dinner. For his part, he was delicious. And cooked the old fashioned way…in the oven. Operation: "Raising turkeys" has been a complete success. Now onto "Making Christmas." Wish me luck!

Until the next time…I’ll be recovering from the food coma!

squirrels in the attic

No, Squirrels in the Attic isn't a new rock band (though, feel free to steal that name if you're an up and coming band without a name.) Though, I will say, my squirrels are quite musical, rolling acorns from one end of the house to the other in the ceiling above me. And not just musical, but cute, too. But all things considered, I'd rather they stayed in the trees and pilfered seeds from the bird feeders rather than trying to snatch dog food from my pantry. 

I guess it's just one more bonus of living on the old haunted farm. 

Another bonus would be fresh turkey for Thanksgiving. Yes, you heard me right. We're actually going to eat one of our prized turkeys. The high-tech redneck hubby named the two toms Clarence and Carter, and apparently, we're going to "Get Carter" for turkey day. I've already started compensating by tossing him extra bread treats. And no, I'm not trying to "pre-stuff" the bird. He loves bread and a dying man should get a last meal, right? For poor Carter, it's a whole week's worth of last meals. I had a whole loaf of bread going stale, so I've just started tossing bits to him each day. I guess this year, I'll be thankful for Carter and the gang for my wonderful meal.

And I'll be extra thankful if we can find the point of entry for the damn squirrels. They've made a mess of the pantry, and even convinced the cat to spend more time inside this week...hunting them. Kitty Bartholomew (known as Bart the mighty jungle cat these days) has been parked outside the pantry door, waiting to nab the little vagrants as they scurry down the walls to snatch loose dog food that's managed to end up here and there. And make no mistake about it, the cat is merely doing his job. There's not fun in this for him. He doesn't toy with the furry creatures. He kills and leaves the body behind. He's a soldier. 

Okay, it might just be a little fun for him. He definitely seems to enjoy the hunt. And I say, let nature take it's course. May the top of the food chain win! And may my bowl of holiday mixed nuts remain untouched. 

Until the next time...I'll be preparing for a feast.

caulk is cheap

Well, so much for fall...it would seem winter is upon us again. So as the temperatures dipped below freezing, I had this brilliant idea to caulk all the windows and doors to stop the seemingly infinite air leaks around the haunted farmstead. I turned to my trusty "painter's kit" and pulled out three tubes of caulk, perfect for the task. 

Let me say this...caulk may be cheap, but it sure doesn't last forever. My stash of never opened caulk apparently expired circa 2004. It was as hard as a rock and completely useless. So much for brilliant ideas and stocking up!

Off we went to the local big box store for a few more tubes. 

We spent a few dollars and several hours plugging up the holes around the windows, doors, and floors. I won't say it's "warm" yet. But at least it doesn't feel like we live in a barn anymore.

The next thing will be getting the gas company in here to run gas lines so we can ditch the electric heat pump for a good old fashioned gas furnace. I'll warm it up in here if it's the last thing I do!

Ok, I may be exaggerating, but I'm definitely all for getting warm. We've already had nights in the low teens and it's still November. I'm terrified to think how cold it could get in the dead of winter.

There's only so much hot chocolate in the world, you know.

Until the next time...I'll be stocking up on a few more electric blankets.

shaping up to be a banner year

As you well know, 2013 has been a stellar year for me. My first full length novel, To Katie With Love was released at the end of April and my second book, Suddenly Sorceress was contracted with the same publisher for release in 2014. What could possibly top that?

Ok, so winning the lottery, getting a movie deal, or finding the secret of eternal youth might come close, but since I didn't get any of those things, I'll start with what DID happen.

Coming Soon!

Suddenly Sorceress is getting an early release!  

That's right! It's not coming out for Valentine's Day as planned, it's coming out closer to the first of the year. And I for one, couldn't be happier.  

In fact, I've been so happy, I pulled out an old manuscript and started blowing off the years of dust. I'm polishing this yet-to-be-named romantic thriller for hopeful publication. Some might say I've gone mad, but hey, we all go a little mad sometimes, right?  

So there you have it! I'm preparing for the coming release of a new book and the upcoming blog tour that inevitably goes along with it. That means I'm back to doing interviews and guest posts like a crazy person. That and getting my house ready for a slew of guests for the holiday season. I could seriously use a little of Ivie McKie's witchcraft to get stuff done. Then again, maybe not. I sorta like my husband the way he is.  

For a sneak peek at Suddenly Sorceress, read chapter one HERE. 

Until the next time...I'll be brushing up on my guest post skills.  

countdown to turkey day

It’s that time of the year again. No, not NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) though, it is that time too. But not for me. I’m abstaining from NaNo this year. Too much pressure after a grueling month of edits. No, I’m referring to the countdown to Thanksgiving.

First of all, let’s define Thanksgiving. It means to give thanks, right? It’s a day to remember what we’re thankful for in our lives, and to honor it. To surround ourselves with family, love, and football? Wait just a minute. When did football become a part of Thanksgiving? This is what the spare TV is for. And headphones. But I digress…

Me, I’m thankful for my family, and for love, and for the internet, and all that good stuff. But let’s face it, isn’t Thanksgiving about turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes? Pie and hot rolls… and more pie? I’m not knocking the whole “giving thanks” thing. I want to give thanks. But I want the food too.

There’s just a few weeks to go before I need have everything in order the yearly feast. And so far, I have nothing. Not even a list of what I need. Hubby and I haven’t even come to an agreement about who lives or dies.

Put down the phone. No need to call in the authorities, I’m not planning an execution. Well, not a human one anyway. And for the record, I’m not the one planning to kill anyone, or anything. I want to buy my turkey already dead, like everyone else does. I don’t want to knock off one of my little farm babies as a sacrifice to the Thanksgiving gods, or whatever. But the hubby? Oh, he has something evil up his sleeve, and I’m on a mission to stop him.

But is it one of our precious few remaining turkeys with his neck on the chopping block? Or the other rooster we just discovered we had? The rooster I was convinced was a hen until he let loose with a loud “cock-a-doodle-do” this weekend. Sometimes, I feel as if I’m trapped in a Looney Toons episode. Is it turkey season or rooster season?

When it comes to Thanksgiving, I’m a traditionalist. I want turkey. That’s it. No ducks, no rabbits, no Bambi. But the husband? He likes to experiment. And that usually means trouble. Especially when I’m trying to save the resident turkeys. They need to live long enough to reproduce. We need a whole flock of those crazy plumped up birds roaming the yard.

So my mission, if I choose to accept it, is to not only make a grocery list of what we need for Thanksgiving, but also to keep my husband occupied long enough for the turkeys to be taken off the table, both figuratively and literally. Unfortunately, that task will be more difficult than it sounds. But I never back away from a challenge…unless it involves dancing…or waxing…or jumping out of a plane…ok, I run from lots of challenges but I won’t run from this one. Listen up, Tom, I’ve got your back.

Until the next time…I’ll be shopping for a pre-dead turkey and the trimmings!

this is halloween

Go ahead, let me have it. I know I've been horrible about blogging lately. But the edits for Suddenly Sorceress are kicking my ass. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. And in a fun twist, that book is set during Halloween.

And speaking of Halloween... It's just a half hour til dark and I’m sitting in front of the television watching a marathon of my all-time favorite Halloween movies, starting with It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

This is the first time all day I really felt as if it was Halloween…and now it’s almost over. How is this even possible?

I got up this morning and completely forgot what day it was. I was out running errands and ran into no less than three strangely dressed people before I realized they weren’t crazy…just in costume. I’m still asking myself how I managed to make it through the entire day without my usual holiday cheer. Everyone knows I love Halloween. For years, the neighborhood children have referred to my house as the “scary” house thanks to my creative Halloween displays. But this year, I live on a farm and the turkeys have zero respect for scary decorations. The minute they pooped on my pumpkin, my heart wasn’t in it. My life-size skeleton is all alone on the front porch. I didn’t even put the heads on stakes in the yard.

To make matters worse, like last year, we won’t get a single trick or treater tonight. Not one. Not even my own children, all of which have flown the nest. But did that stop me from buying candy? Oh, hell no. I live in fear of the angry mob of children with stakes and torches storming my sidewalk if I didn’t buy candy. (You just never know when they'll show up shouting, "Trick or Treat!")

Of course, then I had to buy candy to replace the candy I ate. (The same candy I bought to replace the candy I ate before that.) I’ve eaten so much candy in the past two weeks, if my blood was tested it would probably be pure chocolate.

But surely a lack of trick or treaters couldn’t be the reason for my uncharacteristic gloom on my favorite holiday…could it?

Well, once again, I have no kids at home. You’d think I’d be used to it after the past few kidless years, but I just never am. And as much as the dogs would love to eat candy, they’re not much for the costumes. Believe me…I tried.

And my husband? Getting him into a costume would be harder than dressing Indiana Jones, the Mastiff in a cowardly lion suit and taking him around the neighborhood to knock on doors. (This was my Halloween fantasy from last year that failed miserably.)

So what does a girl do when her favorite holiday falls flatter than a souffle in a thunderstorm?

She grabs a few last pieces of chocolate and a glass of red wine and parks herself in front of the TV to watch Halloween of the past. It wasn’t what I had in mind, but it beats crying in my candy bowl. And what the Hell…this just means my boycott of the Christmas stores is over.

Until the next time…I’ll be shopping for Christmas!

chow lives

Yes, it's true. Henry Chow lives...just not here.  

I spotted our former cat as he crossed the neighbor's yard yesterday. I called out to him, and he stopped and turned to me. He even acknowledged me in that way cats have. Meaning he seemed to blink a few times before walking away. It was as if he was telling me, "Chow don't live there anymore." But he certainly lives somewhere. He looked fat and happy. 

And speaking of living arrangement... 

The high-tech redneck hubby had the week off and his stay-cation started with the demolition of the old chicken coops. Then, with cold weather moving into the North Georgia Mountains, the rest of the week was devoted to building a new (better) coop.  

It's not quite up to my standards (in other words, I wouldn't live there) but our chickens will be living in style! That is, if we could convince them to move in. Chickens are weird. Beautiful new house ready for occupancy and they prefer their broken down perch. We had to catch them all (in the dark, I might add) and shove them into their new house. 

This was another moment film crews would have eaten up. Thankfully, we don't have a film crew. I sprained my ankle, we broke the "broken down perch" and we weren't able to outsmart the youngest rooster. But we did manage to get most of the chickens into their new house for the night. And just in time too, as temperatures dipped below freezing.  

Tonight, I left them to their own devices. If they want to be cold, so be it. I'm not chasing chickens in the dark with a bum ankle.  

I guess if you build it, they just might not come after all. 

Oh well...we'll convince them eventually. I'll wager the first snow fall of the year will drive our chickens into their toasty warm house.  Until then, I guess we'll have to keep nudging them in that direction. One of these days, I'll have my front porch back.

Until the next time...I'll be icing my ankle. 

got brains?

Stephen Kozeniewski

Weekly Guest Spotlight featuring fellow Red Adept Publishing author, Stephen Kozeniewski.

Oh!  Hello.  Didn’t see you there.  Ray, good to see you.  Cabin Goddess Kriss, how’s it going?  I guess I hang out here so much that sometimes I feel like this is my blog, too, and that Erica’s fans are my fans, too.  I mean, logically I know that’s not true.  At least…not yet.  J  But today I’m hoping to change all that.

Who am I, you say?  Well you might remember me from such past ELD hits as:

How Do You Solve a Problem Like Erica? 

Seriously, Kids, AA is Important 

and

Jeremy Does (snicker) Katie 

Instead of giving me (and you poor, poor people) a break, though, Erica has begged me for another blog post. And with the release of my own novel BRAINEATER JONES, I finally have a chance to sell you all something other than my warped worldview.

So, without any further ado (and, let’s be frank - that was a heck of a lot of ado) let’s move on to the meat of this blog post.

People often ask me about the dream cast for BRAINEATER JONES.  As a serial mental onanist pondering that is, of course, one of my favorite activities.  I think that after noodling it over pretty much daily for the last four years or so I’ve come up with a pretty good cast.  And now, for the very first time, I’m going to share it publicly and you fine people all get to be the first to see it.

BRAINEATER JONES FANTASY FOOTBALL TEAM ALL-STAR DRAFT KAPOW!

BRAINEATER JONES - Ah, the man himself.  The zombie detective made good, trying to solve his own murder.  The main character of my tale.  I think there’s really only one actor in Hollywood with the chops to play this ‘30s era noir anti-hero: Mandy Moore.

KUMAREE TONG - Jones’s love interest.  A dame with legs that won’t quit until the middle of yesterday.  And a bit of a femme fatale with more going on beneath her trenchcoat than she’s letting on.  This is a difficult choice, but for me, only one person really embodies the feminine spirit of Kumaree: the Man of Steel himself, Henry Cavill.

ALCIBÉ - Jones’s partner is a severed head.  They meet in Little Haiti while Alcibé is in the clutches of an evil witch doctor or bokor…but perhaps I’ve said too much already.  Despite his obvious limitations Alcibé proves himself to be a valuable addition to the Braineater Jones Detective Agency and Hunting Club.  Really only one mind jumps out to play the cabeza: Dame Helen Mirren.

LAZAR - The man whose name is Lazar (or is it?!?!?) is the first other zombie that Jones encounters.  He shows Jones the ropes, teaches him that zombies can only survive by drinking copious amounts of liquor, and zaps the rigor mortis out of his bones with a stripped electrical wire.  Lazar is also a bootlegger and he might be hiding some secrets about the booze in the city, not to mention about his own body.  I had to mull this one over, but when it struck me the choice seemed obvious: Loretta Devine.

THE OLD MAN - Hmm.  Really, describing The Old Man physically would ruin the book for you, and probably send all my potential fans running to the insane asylum to request that I be committed.  (Insane asylums still exist/do that, right?)  Suffice it to say that he’s the rum runner kingpin and he happens to live in a Mason jar.  I can think of only one thespian with the sheer gravitas to play The Old Man: Diane Keaton.

Well, there you have it, kids.  I hope you enjoyed my visit and I hope you enjoyed my fantasy cast even more.  If you’d like to hear more from me you can visit me at my blog (http://manuscriptsburn.blogspot.com) or on Twitter (https://twitter.com/oufortune.) 

OH!  OH!  And before you go don’t forget to buy my…darn it, they already left.  Well, here’s the book link anyway. 

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Braineater-Jones-Stephen-Kozeniewski/dp/1940215188/

Barnes & Noble:  http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/braineater-jones-stephen-kozeniewski/1117077618?ean=2940148612100

Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/braineater-jones

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/id715553980 

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take that Monday!

You've heard the rumor...Monday sucks. It's the most hated day of the week. It's lumped right in there with rainy days and crash diets. Monday has been the downfall of many a brave soul.  But today, Monday was my bitch. Today, I kicked Monday's ass!

Despite my two am bedtime, I rolled out of bed before nine this morning. Don't ask why, I may never understand why my body has suddenly decided I need to see the wee hours of the morning. But for the past week or two, I can't seem to sleep past nine. So I wasn't surprised when morning dawned and I was out of the bed to start the day. 

First task: Re-configuring a rustic bench for our entry way. Ok, truth be told, I didn't do anything for that. Yet. Hubby did the hard work, but I supervised. And I will be painting and distressing the finish at a later date. 

Second task: Painting the dining room. Yes, you may recall I started that project some time back, but ran out of paint. And everyone knows when you run out of paint, you also run out of steam. So with my "Make Monday my Bitch" mentality, I grabbed another can of paint and climbed up that scary ladder to finish the job. And that leads me right into...

Third task: Beginning the painting in the living room. Oh yes, I painted the biggest wall all by myself. And I have the sore muscles to prove it.  

So there you have it. While it may not sound like much, the impact is huge! My dining room no longer looks like a refugee camp. My living room is halfway done, and I still have paint left! So that means in the next few days, I'll be rolling more walls. But in the end, I'll have a house I can be happy with. Um...almost two years after moving in. But hey, who's keeping track?

Until the next time...I'll be digging for a tube of BenGay for my sore muscles. 

six things to do today

What is October without scary movies and a raging fire?

That is how I finished my day. Mike started a fire, and I popped a DVD in the PS3 and we watched old black and white horror movies from the Vincent Price catalog. 

I am finally in the mood for Halloween. 

I found an interesting blog this morning. It was largely dedicated to home decorating, but the entry I read was about finding comfort in your home and in your life. It was a list of six things you can do right now to make you like your home more. I went through the list and attempted to do all six. 

I cleaned something. It said to find a small area…spend only thirty minutes…and clean this area thoroughly. Perhaps just sweeping the floors, or de-clutter a cabinet. I chose to sweep the floors in my living room. And as the little wood chips and dog fur were swept away, I did feel better. In fact, I cleaned and rearranged the entire room. And it turned out better than I’d ever imagined.

Next, I painted something. I took an old dresser and painted it in a neutral beige. I added new hardware and antiqued it by sanding the edges until the dresser looked vintage, and very expensive. It cost me less than twenty dollars and no more than an hour to make the change, and it looks amazing in my keeping room! I would have never believed such a simple change would make such a large impact. 

I fixed something. It required three minutes and the sewing machine. I now have a repaired grain sack to hang on the wall tomorrow.

I made my house smell good. I opened the windows, letting the fresh fall air in. Then I opened a bag of harvest potpourri and poured it into a bowl on my newly painted dresser.  

I made a few changes in the rooms, “shopping the house” was what she called it. I was actually able to use the same dresser for this task. I took it from my bedroom where it did nothing more than take up space with its tired old finish, and moved it to the keeping room where it makes a nice addition to the room.

And finally, I did something out of the ordinary. This is where the old black and white movies came into play. I used to love watching old movies, but somewhere along the way, I got too busy. I slowed things down a bit today, and put on movies made back in a time before DVDs, cell phones, and the internet. 

I would love to challenge you to try this list of tasks. Let me know how it made a difference in your day. It certainly made a difference in mine. I feel totally refreshed and ready to start fresh tomorrow…I may just do it again!

Until the next time…I’ll be sleeping peacefully after a nice Friday!

Autumn likes me too

Life is good. Or not bad, as it were. I did eat a bad batch of salsa the other day, so I'm on day two of "botulism watch" as I've decided to call it. Apparently, it can take up to ten days for symptoms to present, so I have eight more days before I'm out of the woods. So, since I might be spending my last days on this earth (because something like 65% of botulism victims die) I decided to enjoy them.

First on my list of things to do: buy cat food. Because if I'm gone, surely the cat will starve waiting for someone else to remember food.  

So as I wandered through the aisles at the grocery store on my epic quest for cat food, I ran across this cute little girl and her mother. Let me back up for a minute. It's important to note, kids and animals like me. It's weird. Like I have these strange pied piper pheromones or something. I walk into the farm yard and the animals flock to me. I walk through a park, kids stop to say hi. And, it's also important to say, I don't encourage this. Ok, maybe I encourage the animals. I like animals. But other people's children? No. I mean, they're ok. I don't dislike kids. I would just prefer I didn't spend lots of time around someone else's kids. It's weird.

So back to my story...this little girl and her mom in the grocery store. She was twirling around the aisle, looking cute, like kids do. And she suddenly climbs on the end of my cart. As if she'd decided she was shopping with me. I immediately scope out the mom. I don't want anyone thinking I'm stealing their kid. And mom smiles as the little girl strikes up a conversation. She asks me about my pretty ring. And the sparkles on my shirt. Little girls like the shiny. And her mom, she seemed kind of embarrassed. She said her daughter never does this. And I know it's because of my creepy pheromones, so I just smile and say it's fine. She's a sweet little girl, and I'm not in a hurry. I needed cat food, that's it. Ok, I needed chocolate too. So what...I'm waiting to die of botulism, remember? I'm eating all the chocolate I can before it's too late. But I didn't tell the little girl about the botulism, because kids freak out about stuff like that.

Instead, the little girl asked me a million and one questions (I may have exaggerated the number, but it was a lot) and then I dug into my purse and pulled out one of my To Katie With Love bookmarks and gave it to her. (Yeah, shameless of me to market to kids, but she had a mom, and moms read.) Then we said our goodbyes and I rolled on out of the aisle to check out.  

I ran into her in the checkout aisle and then again in the parking lot. It was cute, she was sweet, and I was honestly pretty flattered. That little girl acted as if I was a Disney princess, dressed in my denim capris and sparkly top.  I don't get that kind of attention every day, so I basked in it while I could.

And the best part of the whole thing? The little girl's name was Autumn. As in my favorite season. So yeah, I might love autumn, but she likes me too.

Until the next time...I'll be dusting off my tiara for my next trip to the market. 

we interrupt this blog...

We killed a rooster this weekend. But please don't cry for him. He wasn't a nice rooster. He attacked my daughter a few times. Then he turned on me. And if that wasn't enough proof that he needed to go, he decided to take on the dog in a rumble worthy of the Thrillah in Manilla. I have to hand it to him, he put on a good show, coming out with Ali's signature style and swagger. But in the end, he was no match for the mighty Mastiff, or the husband as it turns out. Because not an hour after their throw down, Crockpot Roy was chilling out in the fridge, his brilliant tail feathers in a jar on the counter. 

And that my friends, was the highlight of my weekend. It was all downhill from there. I did finish my content edit for Suddenly Sorceress, and I certainly can't complain about that. But my daughter moved out on Sunday, and as much as I was looking forward to her being out on her own, it still stings to watch her haul her things out the door. The last of my little birds out of the nest. The end of an era. But it would seem that's not the only thing that was over by the time Sunday evening rolled around. 

And truth be told, this is not the first time my relationship has been in the crapper. It seems to be cyclic. And I have to wonder if it's not all my fault. Am I just too quirky and strange to maintain a relationship outside of the printed page? Maybe I really am that difficult to live with. And maybe I'm destined to be alone. It will certainly give me a lot more time to write. And on the upside, I won't have to worry about shaving my legs or any of those other pesky rituals women get stuck with. 

But hairy legs aside, I can't say I'm happy about this new development. In fact, I'm locked in my room, listening to Nina Simone wail sad lyrics on repeat until I don't have any more tears to cry. And then maybe I'll sleep for a while. I haven't had much of that lately. A little extra sleep never hurt anyone.

Until the next time...I'll be reevaluating my future.

crock pot season

It's that time of year again...crock pot time. One of my favorite things to do when the weather turns cool is to load up the crock pot with chili fixings and let it go. It's hours in the making, but worth every minute. Today's dish was potato soup. Tomorrow, chicken stew.  Because when the rooster marks me as his next victim, it's time to toss his ass in a pot!

Crock pot Roy was as it again today. But he wasn't chasing my daughter around the yard with his sneak attack tactics. It was me! And I have the spur marks to prove it.

I was just walking around the yard, minding my own business when I heard a shuffling in the grass. Before I had time to look down, he'd gotten my foot. I waved him away and turned to bolt for the house and he made another pass, catching me in the calf.

I'm not afraid to admit I ran. For a moment there, I felt like I'd wandered into Jurassic Park as part of the lunch menu. Omnivores is one thing, but seriously, Roy! You don't bite the hand that feeds you! 

Perhaps that's why he's pissed. I haven't pulled out the bread lately. Maybe if I pass out snacks tomorrow, I'll be back in his good graces. Or maybe I'll just fatten him up. Crock pot chicken stew sounds delicious.

Until the next time...I'll be chopping up veggies! 

katydids and katydon'ts

I had a giant bug in my house the other night. A huge, leafy green bug with a built-in music maker. It sat on my sofa playing sad songs on its violin legs in hopes I would spare its miserable little life. And truly, I was thisclose to squashing it like a bu...uh...you know. And then I found out what kind of bug it was. A Katydid. And how could I kill a Katydid? 

To Katydid With Raid? I don't think so. And so, I scooted my chair over and kept an eye on the little Katydid until bedtime. Then I tiptoed into my room and shut the door. By morning, little Katydid had perched on the windowsill, waiting for someone to let her out. And that's exactly what hubby did. With the utmost care, he picked her up and promptly deposited her in front of a flock of hungry chickens!

Thank goodness, Katydid could fly. Sorry chickens...that was a katydon't for you. 

The rest of my weekend (not that it's quite over yet) has been spent searching for the perfect iron bed frames for the upstairs guest rooms. Christmas is only 80-ish days away, and we have a house full of people coming. I really want to have the guest rooms ready. I can't believe I'm thinking about Christmas when I haven't even decorated for Halloween! That's an epic fail of the highest order.

Shame on me. 

Until the next time...I'll be organizing the cupboards and finishing my edits. 

a breakdown in the system

I'm back. I'm sure you thought I'd vanished into the ether, never to be seen again. I didn't. I was here all along. Busy, working on my edits for the new book, (insert shameless plug here) Suddenly Sorceress, coming in February.

The book is set in October, so while the inspiration surges, I'm riding the wave. And that left me with nothing to blog about. I even missed the first day of "real fall" as opposed to "fake fall" or the equinox. I know, the equinox is the official first day of fall, but if you ask me, fall doesn't start until October. Hence, my calling it "real fall." But I digress.  

And honestly, I have been busy these past few days. My sister came to town for a visit today, dragging me out of the house to shop for antiques--something I love to do, but rarely take the time. And I cleaned the house yesterday. Even did several loads of laundry--trying to catch up with that "real life" stuff I avoid like the plague. But this makes it sound like I'm making excuses (and I guess I am.) I didn't blog for days. Days! And for that, I'm sorry. Really. I am.

But being a full time writer is hard work. And sometimes you have to wash those pajamas and restock the refrigerator. Every now and then, you're expected to shower, and wander into public. Now that I've done that, I should be good for a few weeks. Maybe even months. Hey, I'll do what I can. I don't want to push it. 

Until the next time...I'll be busy writing (in clean pajamas.) 

confronting the demon

Ciara Ballintyne

Weekly Guest Spotlight featuring author Ciara Ballintyne

This is the first time I’ve ever had cover art commissioned, but as far as I can tell from the writers I know, seeing the cover art for the first time never gets old. I have to agree it’s a definite ‘SQUEEEE!’ moment. And I’m not generally the kind of person who ever says ‘Squee’. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only time I have ever previously said squee was when HarperVoyager requested a partial of my manuscript Deathhawk’s Betrayal.

So here it is – the cover art for Confronting the Demon, my 25,000 word novella.

Many thanks go out to my artist, Nadica Boskovska. Check out more of her work at http://theswanmaiden.deviantart.com/gallery/

Blurb - Confronting the Demon

The gates to hell are thrown wide when Alloran is betrayed by his best friend, Ladanyon, and framed for forbidden magic. He is hunted by the guards and the wizards both, tormented by the gruesome murder of his friends and loved ones, and crippled by fear for the living. Now Alloran must face his demons, or damn the woman he loves.

The novella also includes a free bonus short story, A Magical Melody, which was previously featured in the ebook anthology, Spells: Ten Tales of Magic.

When a lethal spell is stolen from a locked and warded room, Avram must hunt down the thief before the song of power buries a city of innocents beneath a thousand tons of ice.

Confronting the Demon is due to be released 1 October 2013, and I’ll be signing copies at the IndieVengeance Day Book Signing in Dallas, Saturday, October 12, 2013 from 1:00 PM to 5:00 PM (CDT). Register for free here if you’re interested to come along - http://www.indievengeanceday.eventbrite.com/.

I put a spell on you

The high-tech redneck hubby has made it his mission to get all our fall planting done as quickly as possible. So far, we have nine new fruit trees, four blueberry bushes, and several lavender and rosemary plants. But is that enough? Oh no.

Our to-do list for this weekend: a trip to the local nursery.

As I wandered the rows of green, seeking out the perfect shade loving ornamentals for the front porch, hubby called out several familiar names. Artemisia, verbena, hawthorne...all plants I recognized from spells I'd written within the pages of Suddenly Sorceress. So, of course, I couldn't stop myself from blurting out how I'd used each one in a spell.

The lady who owns the nursery giggled when I mentioned spells and plants. I was sure she'd think I was crazy, so I quickly told her I wrote a book about a witch. She was fascinated. But I soon discovered her fascination was born out of her own secrets, when she admitted to being a witch. She asked me all sorts of questions about my book, and the research I'd done for my spells. She seemed genuinely excited to share her personal experiences, as if she'd been bursting to tell someone, but didn't dare. And then I came along, spouting off about my witch and her spells. You just never know who you're going to meet while shopping for plants.

And who knows, she might just be a wealth of information while I'm writing the sequel. Oh, and I got some really nice plants there. I'll definitely stop in again. Who knows, we might swap recipes.

Until the next time...I'll be playing in the dirt.