Fine Whine

THE BEST and the GHOSTS

2012-02-06T23:58:00.002-06:00

LAWMAN is the best. I just keep rereading it, mostly cuz I can't take my eyes off Tim who is a Getty Image for god's sake. And the ending is so great. Life, whether you like it or not. SACRED SIN is a bit of a stretch. When I can afford it, I will do a rewrite, but already I left out about half. And I love the gas station sex. And the Maze, well, I hate what I had to do to Barney cuz I love him so, but that's life, like I say whether you like it or not.

And just when I start thinking the ole well has run dry, I got a great idea for Anymore to introduce a pivotal character that ties this all up. God, I am enjoying the hell out of this.
So ninety days is my deadline, but I will finish sooner. Especially if I stay this manic. Ghosts are in my house actually. They leave me things, tangible things. Some shiny and new. Puzzling.

So VERY Up

2012-02-03T14:06:00.000-06:00

Well, Louie got the new transmission installed for his heart yesterday and that seems to be going fine. They desperately wanted to show us the one they took out and talk about how it worked and describe its various components. It was large and shiny and, strangely enough, shaped like a tombstone, but I didn't want the explanations because there were still little bits of blood and gore attached to it. He is asleep at home now, as usual. On the way from the hospital this morning, we stopped at the "Orgy of Gorging" pancake house near our home , (not its real name) and Delaney ate pancake and behaved delightfully, so that many smiles will last most of today and tomorrow for me.

PLUS, the KDPSelect program has kicked in, so I am rapt, watching those results come in, much as, I am just supposing here, that gubernatorial candidate with the dark secret would be watching his election returns.

Yes, I harbor dark secrets, many of them hinted at in my fictional works, many of them to be kept hidden beyond the grave. Except, I am not going to have an actual grave. But you get what I am saying.

THE MAZE

2012-02-03T12:04:00.001-06:00

Free today and tomorrow on KDPSelect. If you don't belong to Amazon Prime you can sign up for 30 day free trial.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC

Spikes

2012-01-31T23:17:00.000-06:00

It is either you guys or the NSA. HUGE fucking spikes.
Thank you!

This is a carefully copied Chinese rip off of a beautiful painting showing me and my best friends wreaking havoc. This took a very long time cuz I already took my sleep meds.

Nice Review

2012-01-31T11:31:00.000-06:00

Virginia,

First of all, thank you for allowing me to read your book. I must admit that while I am still relatively new to book reviews, yours was a hard one to sum-up. I did my best though, and I hope you like it.

Before I send you a copy of the review though, since you had asked for an evaluation of the wording. I hint to this a little bit in the review, but as you specifically asked for feedback, I shall give you my opinion directly. First of all, I was at first hesitant to read your book when I got to it with the question you asked... and yet I was dying to read it as I have a guilty-pleasure for stuff that I probably shouldn't read.
However, in reading your book I think the wording is very well done during the sex scenes. It's evocative, and intensely intimate, which I didn't know was possible in third person. This is particularly true toward the beginning of the book. Beyond that, I thought the wording was enough to convey what was going on, without being pornographic or anything like that. Perhaps your brother was referring to the the "strength" of the intimacy which I found so wonderfully done. *shrugs* that's my oppinion. I know that family can be pretty critical of sex scenes and the like- they are perhaps the most scrutinized part of a relatives writing. But I personally thought it added to the story and helped the reader get sucked into the story emotionally.

So... I hope that helps you some as far as what you wanted to know about the language. Below is my review, if for any reason you don't want me to post it, please let me know before Wednesday when I will post it on my site- barring any objections from you. Also, please reply with a brief about the Author that I can tag on at the end of the review.

One final note, if you are fine with the review and want the review posted anywhere in addition to on my site (goodreads, amazon, barnesandnoble, ect) please let me know that as well.

Sacred Sin by Virginia Llorca

Summary Provided by Amazon.com

After her first marriage fails, Jenny wants to concentrate on her education and her career, but "that guy" walks into her life when and where she least expects it and this guy means business. Will her new relationship survive when Jenny proves unable or unwilling to give up a life long relationship that is more than friendly?

What I Loved

The language of this book is so evocative. I'll say it here, before I go into much else that the reader of this book must be a mature adult. The wording itself isn't so graphic, as is the way the words work together. I usually have a hard time connecting with third-person narratives, and at first this was true in Sacred Sin as well, but there are different reasons that the third person viewpoint exists, and the intimacy conveyed in this particular instance is intensified by the third-person outlook.

What I Didn't Like

At some point or another, any reader reading a fictional book must be able to enter a suspension of belief- and that is very true with Sacred Sin. If you are hung up on morals and what is "right", this book may be hard to get into- it was for me at first and I usually do well with suspension of belief. At times the book seems to push the boundaries of a relationship- to where I just have to yell at the character's stupidity.

My Overall Review

(3 of 5 Stars) A Steamy and Evocative story of life.
I can't even think of a good 3-of-5 summary for this book. In fact, I would have to rate it objectively as a 3.75 if I did half-stars, which I don't. For me, this story was very evocative and intriguing... yet I'd still label it a 3. I can easily see someone else really enjoying it though. While steamy, sexy, intimate, evocative... I think you get the picture to an extremely high-degree, it does provide a story of a woman who truly loves two guys at once. Though life is not always glamorously wonderful for Jenny- it is a bit of fantasy for the reader. Who hasn't had to choose between two loves in their lives? Again, not for a younger audience, but for a steamy book that has an intricate story as well- very well done.

Thank you again for allowing me to read your book. I look forward to hearing back from you.
Sincerely,

Shayna Gier
Author of Stuck in Estrogen's Funhouse
Book Reviewer for Shaynagier.com

Sample or purchase Stuck in Estrogen's Funhouse:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/69040

Visit my Website:
http://www.shaynagier.com

The Maze

2012-01-30T23:25:00.000-06:00

If you are looking for another "Mary Poppins" series, these would not be the books for you. If you occasionally enjoy an infuriating female protagonist, you will devour these stories.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC

Success

2012-01-29T23:43:00.000-06:00

This seemed the most difficult of all. But THE MAZE is live on Kindle Select now. It looks great, but, once again, they left out my indents. What else can you do but follow their directions completely and thoroughly? Yeah, now I can go into the HTML, and maybe I will cuz I am a little more confident about it now. But, seriously? Don't they know these things are our pride and our joy?

It is about twice as long as the original, so if you bought the original, I don't know what you have to do to swap them, but Amazon customer service has been good to me so far. I AM SO EXCITED to try this new program.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0061SB3TC

Discovery

2012-01-29T16:12:00.000-06:00

I rewrote The Maze and put it up on Kindle Select today. I was a nervous wreck. Then I was "speaking" to my spouse and I said I wondered why I got so nervous because what difference did it make if I did something wrong. I could go back and fix it. And he replied, "Now you're catching on." So I guess that means I am never going to get nervous about anything ever again. Sometimes I just wonder why he is not the ruler of the whole fucking world.

No. I know exactly why he is not. And so do you.

I wish we had a special font for sarcasm in case any of you aren't getting my point.

P.S. I don't want the Maze to be over. I want to write and write and write about these people.

Now Do You Understand?

2012-01-28T23:48:00.000-06:00

Carrots

2012-01-23T14:07:00.007-06:00

I received four carrots. It brought to mind a memory. When I was a sophomore at college, A Catholic University in Chicago, everyone was sitting around the union one day talking about their summer jobs. I actually worked at the telephone company as an operator (Something that comes back to haunt me) and I babysat. (More haunting in the truest sense) but I told them I went out to Las Vegas and worked as an exotic dancer. I said the difference between an exotic dancer and a stripper was that an exotic dancer already had her clothes off and I wore a ruby in my navel. Mind you, most of these people were graduates of Trinity or Fenwick or Loyola Academy, and many of them stood there agape. Most of them knew I was just joshing. Anyway, I almost forgot the best part. I told them my stage name was Carrots LaRue and I had an album coming out in December.

So as a reward for my early and more recent attempts at story telling, I was awarded four carrots from the Bunnies and I will copy the review here for all of you, and for me, that feels really good about it.

Lawman by Virginia Llorca

I honestly do not know how or where I got this book but I read it. If the author sent this to me to review sorry I must of lost your email. This review is my personal opinion of the book. This is not a paid review. To form you own opinion about this book please support the author and invest in your own copy.

There are two main characters in this book Lily and Tim. All of the others characters are very minor and do not influence the book much.

Lilly is a prosecuting attorney and a young widow. Tim is the go-to-guy for anything the FBI (or the government) needs while also being a special agent.

Lily and Tim's paths cross while on a case. They each know there could be something more than just co-workers but do not allow anything to happen while on the same case. After the case is finished Tim takes leave from work and drives down to see Lily.

Lily and Tim have lot's of sex in this book. So if you do not like reading about sex scenes then this book is probably not for you. No this is not an erotic book. Just the average book with sex scenes.

Although Lily and Tim want things to work out and be a family it is a question of if they can overcome the problems in the relationship. While Tim does not think the problems are enough to stop the relationship from going forward, Lily thinks they should stop and talk, about the problems.

Can Lily and Tim overcome the problems and be a couple?

While I enjoyed this book I did not feel connected to the characters through out the whole book. Sometimes the connection was there and sometimes it was missing. To me this book is what a lot of couples go through when they have a high-profile job and are trying to find the one person that will make them whole. Yes, there are sex scenes and lots of arguing between the characters. That is what makes this book seem so real to life. Whether this book was 100% of the authors creativity or she used some parts of either her past or someone's past it is a good read.

The bunnies and I give this book 4 Carrots. (Buunysreview.blogspot.com through google search.

Historical love

2012-01-22T15:11:00.000-06:00

I wanted to repost this and I think this is the only place that has room. I got it from futility closet.

A Letter Home

Excerpt from a letter from U.S. Army major Sullivan Ballou to his wife, July 14, 1861:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days — perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more. …

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the brightest day and in the darkest night — amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours — always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again.

He never sent it. It was found in his trunk after he was killed in the First Battle of Bull Run.

The Fledgling

2012-01-21T23:51:00.000-06:00

I was going to write in the comments section of another blog about interlopers, but I erased it because I though it might hurt someone's feelings. If it hurts someone's feelings here, they can just leave.

Many years ago I sent a story to Redbook magazine. It was about my usual tagline topic, infidelity. (Gee! I wonder why!!) I received a real letter back from a female who said she liked it but didn't have a place for it in her magazine, but please send more. I never did. So this stuff festers under the surface and comes boiling out later.

I believe, and I have said, to my kids, grandkids, and even to other people's kids, that growing up is the hardest job you will ever have. I also told my daughter that there is really no such thing as a grown up. There is not a definable demarcation between 'grown-up' and 'not grown-up'. I told her that at a certain point in her life, of her own choosing, she will start to pretend to be a grown up and after a while she will convince herself she is grown up, and then every one around her will believe it.

I think it is like the baby birds. Maybe like other animals too. But I guess I relate more to the birds. Whatever. When they are hatched they look to the biggest one for all their food and lessons and safety. Then when they start to get bigger, they fight for the worm or the bug or the seed and it makes them stronger. Then they practice flying and go off and be their own personal care giver, a grown up bird. But some birds are pushed out of the nest by the bigger ones before they know how to fly, or they fall out of the nest too soon by accident, and they try to fly before they are ready. Some can do it and they are fine. Some flutter on the ground and a little girl picks them up and sets them on a branch and they practice and pretty soon they can fly on their own. Some fall out and flutter on the ground and draw the attention of the cat or the fox who eats them. Some, while they are still tiny and bald, get squashed down into the bottom of the nest and become a sort of nest mulch. No life for a bird. But each one of them, from the moment they came out of that egg, sat there fluttering those wings and pretending to be a big grown up bird.

When I started to put my work out in the public eye, I was asking everyone else that was doing it, how do they do it, what happens, what is the best way. Then, usually after a sales spike, or a wonderful review, I start to think what I do works for me and what works for them is their own business. Then after a while, I don't bother to read them. I am too busy and it really can't help me at this point. I am pretending to be a grown up.

Maybe I am fluttering on the ground and that little girl will pick me up and put me on a branch and I will be able to fly on my own some day. Maybe, I'll flutter desperately and the fox will destroy me. I've seen him sniffing around already. Maybe I will go flying off into that sunrise thinking the whole world is mine.

The thing is about the learning and the pretending, I think I am doing such a great job of flying, and I just have to explore places and learn better ways to do things, but I am convinced I can do it on my own now. That might be good. And I read (reed not red)something that is from someone else that is trying to soar and I think, "nest mulch." This is cocky and buys bad karma, but if that nest mulch flies, I am going to go looking for the fox.

The Blog Whore

2012-01-19T23:27:00.004-06:00

I go all sad and feel all hopeless for full minutes at a time when I look at my blog stats and see the graph is level. Then I get all proactive and go post on a couple of blogs that I know will provide hits. These are blogs that have little or nothing to do with my personal life or my writerly ambitions. They are largely political, a minefield I like to lob large rocks into, but will not enter. But then a huge spike shows up in the graph before my second string even hits the traffic source list. Then, my sales take a leap. Because of what I did perhaps which would be good marketing if I knew what it was that caused the spike. The traffic sources show little of the true picture, nobody subscribing shows up there, but my political pals show up on time and I feel I have chosen the right career. Blog whore. Hopefully that will be considered a secondary career by me, who is the only person who gives a nickel about any of my careers. In the meanwhile, since you deigned to stop by, let me share with you one of my favorite most inspiring things. Creativity inspiring and awe inspiring. Enjoy.

so

2012-01-19T20:14:00.000-06:00

I just go back now and delete blogs because I decide they are stupid. I am just stalling.

Reality Check

2012-01-12T00:12:00.001-06:00

First of all: I HATE f-ing HATE typing on this new laptop and I have yet to figure out why I am torturing myself by trying to do it.

Secondly: I took down book three because I decided to make something else happen. I need a special kind of psychotherapist who specializes in the "God Syndrome".

Someone commented in a review that they wanted stuff to work out for several of my characters whose/who's lives were sort of being lived at cross purposes to one another's. (I have a real problem with the possessive pronoun here. You would too.) Even one of my more severe critics mentioned having this dilemma. I felt this way too. That is kind of why I wrote it basically. It is an extension of certain parts of my personal experience. ("It happened like this, but wouldn't it be interesting if it happened like this?")

So I made this hunky dory type story in the third book that made everything sweetness and light, peaches and cream. The HEA that I HATE in Romance books. No such thing. Anyway. I decided these people were too complex and it couldn't be that simple so I have made the book like twice as long as it was and the development was fun, and I like it. But the thing is, I was kind of idealizing this one male character, did it in book one, mentioned it in book two, and I am crazy about him. But, this new section makes him do a really ass hole thing. And I just kind of think that no matter how great a guy is, this stuff happens because of the "Y" chromosome. Fortunately my audience is predominantly female or I would probably have my house burned to the ground by now and my body dismembered in the town square. (Please put my head on a rust proof pike.) And I make him all man up-ish and come clean-ish and acceptable to the amazing female protagonist who would never fall in love with an asshole. Yeah.

And, once again, I feel like a complete whore for doing it. It is so manipulative. Okay. Here is the deal. These are fictional people, Ditty. What the fuck difference could it possibly make?

No answer. Go the fuck to sleep.

Amazing Day

2012-01-10T12:27:00.003-06:00

An amazing review for SACRED SIN. I am so grateful, and it is wonderful when it seems like someone "gets" me.

Thank you, Katherine.

"4.0 out of 5 stars A great read!, January 9, 2012
By Katherine C. Owen (Kirkland, WA United States) - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: Sacred Sin (Kindle Edition)
"Sacred Sin" by Virginia Llorca is evocative, intimate, and sexy. The intriguing adult story contains flashes of brilliance about an amazing woman named Jenny who is mysterious, magical, and somewhat mad. A state she openly acknowledges as she seduces not only the men that she has magnetized to her in life, but the readers who get drawn into this story. Llorca weaves an intricate tale with her writing style that feels both autobiographical and intimate, even though "Sacred Sin" is told in third person.

This reader was somewhat bewitched by Jenny and had to throw out the semblance of a moral code, at times, in order to better understand this deeply drawn character that is Jenny Agnoli. Can you be in love with two men at the same time? And, be with them both? Apparently, you can. Llorca's novel takes us on a thirty-year journey from the time Jenny is a baby where readers get a glimpse of young Jenny and attempt to understand this amazing girl through the eyes of her first love, Barney. And then, the writer propels readers forward with the introduction of the magnetic Danny who becomes the love of Jenny's life and possibly her soul mate. But, alas, there are questions there that Llorca impels readers to consider. Can you love more than one person at the same time? Can you need them for different reasons?

I loved all the characters in this novel. Somehow, I wanted things to work out for all of them even though a certain amount of madness or a spell of some kind seem to come over all of them, at different times, in terms of the way they dealt with Jenny and her manic-depressive state(s).

"Sacred Sin" was a thought-provoking story by a very talented writer and one I will think about long after the last page I read. I look forward to reading more of Virginia Llorca's work."

Then I found out how to disable caps lock. From my perspective, yesterday was like I just heard my power ball numbers on the TV and then the doorbell rang and it was Publisher's Clearing House.

Versatile Blogger Award

2012-01-09T20:25:00.000-06:00

I feel like I am piloting a ship into uncharted waters here. I am supposed to list seven formerly unknown things about me.
1. I wear my pjs inside out so the seams don't irritate me.
2. My husband really was on a Seal Support team in the Navy so I do know a little about it.
3. I never dyed my hair.
4. I would drink two milk shakes at lunch in high school to try and gain weight. Ha Ha on me.
5. I still get terrible crushes on people. Inappropriate at my age.
6. I smoked tons of dope when I was thirty-ish
7. The last few pages of LAWMAN is the best thing I ever wrote and maybe that anyone wrote. And too bad if you don't know that. You should.

Wow. That was fun. I wish you had to list ten cuz I was just getting warmed up.

Now, I am supposed to list five blogs for the Versatile Blogger Award. Not easy cuz I am kind of a blog whore.

1. Roy York at Grandpa York cuz he is too good to be true for a variety of reasons and he is a great cheerleader. Also very good with the written word.
2. Lyra at Lyrical Meanderings, because she has cute kids and works very hard.
3. pascal campion at pascal campion cuz I love his work and I am trying to butter him up.
4. Betsy Lerner at BetsyLerner.com because her blog is almost the same as dope to me. And I am not too sure about the real name of the actual blog.
5. Burton Book Reviews because it is lovely and my oeuvre.

If I am supposed to convert these into links, I am really sorry. I wept today because I found a tiny program to successfully disable caps lock, so I celebrate my non-techiness. Use Google, guys. That's what it's for.

Spin

2012-01-03T20:45:00.000-06:00

Some days I do not want to leave my bed. I love my bed. Very old, wrought iron "campaign" bed. (I do not know why they call it that, but I saw a picture of one like it in Arch. Digest and it had a bunch of weird chains on it and said it folded and was a civil war campaign bed. Strange, since it is very pretty.) Any way, all cotton blankets, sheets and quilts. Favorite stuff that I indulge myself in. Little enough of that going on, guys. But, as usual, I digress. (I will have to find a phrase to replace that. It is getting very old, even to me.)

Sometimes I can let the littlest thing get me down so bad, so far down, definitely inordinately so. Other days, like the second half of yesterday, and so far, all of today, I am kind of high. And the tiniest thing can get me so high, no, not ALWAYS a pill, guys. I am being a bit figurative here. I know it is my nature, and sometimes I hate it, but usually I enjoy it. It is like Chicago. Chicagoans are rabid in their love for their city, but it is never the same for very long. They say if you don't like the weather in Chicago, just wait a minute cuz it will change. Maybe that is why they love it. So I am at peace with the way I am. Good thing cuz it is way too late to alter it.

Anyway, one thing I notice is that, more and more, I am able to mentally adjust my take on things to feed a certain mood. I wonder if I have always done this and everyone else knows it, but I am just now noticing it. The first time someone said something negative about my writing I felt so weird, like a little bit sick with that hot forehead thing. You would not think at my age I would have a fragile ego, and it is a damn shame that I do. So, it took a while to see that the person was not criticizing my writing or even my choices. He was criticizing the lifestyle of the characters which means I created characters. It was the first time I realized that and it was a watershed moment. Now you couldn't stop me if you wanted to. I have had enough said at this point that I am totally able to be perfectly at ease with what I say and how I say it. So I poke around looking for reviews, but mostly looking for sales and perusing reviews if they are present. Barnes and Noble, for some reason, gets me the most readership. I have a strange feeling it is because of this interesting interaction I had with a gentleman that works at Barnes and Noble, but I may be wrong. It may just be part of the natural order of things and beyond my control. So I got a pretty nice review from someone on B&N and felt good and was glad someone "got" me. My only requirement. Steal the book out of the back of my car as long as you read it and "get" it.

Then, this morning, my daughter was taking a terribly long time in the Sprint store getting a replacement phone. In unexpected idle moments such as this I like to go up to any device in the store (Best Buy is fun.) that has browser access and look up my books and leave the picture of my cover on display. Sometimes I even say to whomever is nearby, "This is my book," but Francesca gets put off when I talk to strangers. (Loony mom syndrome.) I booted up B&N and there was a new review. One star. Very long. He was furious with Jenny. He offered all kinds of recommendations about how she could improve the moral quality of her life and how the gentlemen involved were nuts to put up with it and it could never happen (which I adamantly counter with "Oh, yes it can") and immediately I noticed that he said nothing about my style and was so invested in my characters it had strongly affected him He said he read it in six hours and wished he had the six hours back. Um. . . You could have put it down after twenty minutes or so. Why didn't you?

I found the whole one star review immensely flattering and gave it a five star rating. Still waiting for that "right" person to read it, though.

Today's CTA: what do you think about this whole cell phone, iPad, computer, TV morphing thing?

Rings in the Water

2012-01-02T23:15:00.000-06:00

If you throw a big enough rock into the pond, can you make it become a tsunami? I guess it would have to depend completely on the size of the pond and the size of the rock. Even a tiny pebble in a little puddle will make rings.

I'm afraid I am starting a personal trend in my life. I've got all my psychoactive meds regulated so I don't have to keep running to the shrink. My GP is fine with maintenance. So I don't think I can blame this on a change in medical protocol as it so obviously was last year. But I just dissolved another lifelong relationship. And this one is a family member. And I don't think it is repairable. I don't think I want it to be repairable. I am just wondering if it is because of my stage in life. (Y'all know I mean "age".) I am kind of relieved there is one less person in my life whose bullshit I have to put up with. Wow. I should personally diagram that sentence. I do know the 'with' hanging on the end there is totally wrong. But, I digress.

My two daughters are poles apart in age and attitude and life style. I think you would have to go with the most detailed kind of DNA test to find any similarities. And they are so lucky. My older daughter had mirror twin girls, and this is going to be a classic case of a family dynamic run completely amok. We see signs of it every day. Someone I worked with once said, "You can choose your friends, but you cannot choose your family. You are just stuck with them." (I worded that carefully, probably paraphrasing a bit so we wouldn't have to go into the you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose schtick.)

My mom died about six years ago and I still cannot forgive her for leaving my father behind. It is so painful to deal with, and it causes the most terrible friction in families. Today it boiled over big time. No, that is not a mixed metaphor if you understood the physics of heating water and the interaction of the molecules that produce the heat. But let me try to swing back to the rings in the water thing that I wanted to use as the thread to run through this rambling blog. Everything that has happened to us comes back into our lives in some way. I am pretty sure someone took this idea and ran with it and came up with the whole "Karma" thing. I am between two brothers and they have been pulling at my loyalties, perhaps not deliberately. In one case, perhaps deliberately. But the connection with one of them gave way tonight. I spoke at length with the other brother and we tried to analyze the cause of this rift. At one point I brought up the fact that my mother never made any bones about saying that the recently disconnected brother was a "surprise" and that they had only planned on two kids. I am sure that must have had an effect on so many things in his life. And there is a pretty big age gap. But through his childhood, and basically until he got married, we were such good friends. We had a hot car and we let him take it on dates and he never wrecked it. He would come and stay at our house just for a break. I thought it was very brotherly. Instead it seems that he feels he now is unfairly burdened with all these life changing decisions for everyone. In fact he has never been asked or designated to bear these burdens or make these decisions, and, geographically, in truth, I am the one that performs most of the actual physical involvement. And I have a spouse who is unusually kind about dealing with this situation which concerns my aging and alone father. It is perhaps a burden, and my father recently mentioned that he was sorry for all he put my husband and I through, and I replied that we did these things because we love him. (Tears. Irishmen.) I think maybe there is a distinction in doing something because you are burdened with it or doing something for love. Every family has its weird dynamics and undertows, but it seems that this time, every single pebble that was ever thrown into that pond chose today to send its rings out and deluge me with sadness and mistrust and complete confusion. What is done can sometimes not be undone. I do know that the path of action that I have been following is sturdy enough to not be washed out by this flood and I can keep on trucking along. I have that tee shirt.

Today's CTA: who's gonna push your wheelchair?

Half a Beat

2011-12-29T18:52:00.003-06:00

No matter what can be said about politics or the economy, I have to say 2011 was a year of learning for me. I know we are always learning, but never have I been so aware of learning such major life changing truths, life-changing at least for me. The most important thing to me, that has affected my life more than anything, is that you can never know another person. Your perception of that person is what you think is knowledge of that person, but it has nothing to do with who that person is. And that is fine if you are comfortable with your perception and comfortable with your own take on who that person is. I think the reason it was such a big deal for me is that it involved a long term relationship I had that went by the wayside. I felt not that I didn't know who that person really was, but that she had no clue what so ever of where I was coming from or why I thought the things I thought or said. Forty years of fakery as far as I am concerned. Then, when I was pretty much through rebounding from that, the knowledge helped me get through a huge emotional upset in my immediate family. So now, I will just take it all with a grain of salt and not let it affect the way I live my life. Partly, that is easier because of the point I am at in my life. I would be on the shrink couch every day had this happened when I was 22.

Then, we went to take holiday pics of the new baby and her brother and I sat there the whole time thinking, what does that guy do for a living, why would she marry him much less breed with him, he looks like he has a bad smell, that baby is funny looking, they should wait and take his picture when or if he gets cuter, why didn't the mom fix that girl's hair first, gee, that kid's voice is loud and high pitched, why would you put that same hideous sweater on all of your kids for a life long memory of a holiday, my grandson is so f-ing handsome, mom better hurry up and give him the facts of life talk cuz they are gonna be all over him in a year or two, my granddaughter is so cute, even when she glowers, oh, my god they must hate my daughter, she is so pretty and her kids are the only cute ones here, and Cassie looks so cute in those jeans. Is this perception or reality? I no longer know. Or perhaps I don't trust my judgment anymore having made such huge mistakes about people throughout my life. I am doing some work on my third book and I wanted to get these two people together and I was having a heck of a time figuring it out. But now I figured it out. If you love someone, you just love them. Even if it's your deluded perception. That's why God invented that special kind of pain that goes with love.

I like the show Bones. More than I like the books. I suspend belief. The relationship between Booth and Bones is so cute. No, it is totally bizarre and unrealistic actually, but I love them. I am so glad they are together. And right the head of the lab would wear THAT dress to work in a path lab. But it is one of my favorite shows. I rent the dvds at the library. I play catch up on On-Demand. I tried to watch a new show with a similar theme. Forensic medicine is huge lately. I don't recall the name but Dana Delaney is in it and I heard it was good. Every single meaningful glance, "How will she respond to this?" "How should I respond to that?" went on a beat too long. The characters could have been computer generated. I hated it. And, who knows, maybe it is great. Maybe it is my perception. There was this actress. She was the Charlie girl, and then they tried to make her an actress, (I won't say her name). They even gave her her own series. One of those algorithms telling them where the money comes from I guess. Every word out of her mouth was a half a beat off. It drove me up the wall. I saw her in a little bit part on some police procedural drama, and she had improved. Or my perception had changed.

I got a great review that was just the kind of language I understand. "Crazy good read." Which is exactly what I write, y'know? And then I am nosing around today and someone on Apple gave me one star cuz it jumped all over the place. Umm, no. It is totally linear,time-wise, age-wise, story wise. And who cares,their loss, they missed the nursing scene and that great blizzard and some other good stuff. But I clicked to see what else they had reviewed and they had given five stars to the app for ordering pizza from Pizza Hut. So it is always nice to have your pride and conceit taken down a peg or two and realize the company you are in, who you are sharing that bookshelf with. At least I have to be glad it wasn't a three star pizza ordering app.

I think the only way you are going to get read is if your work gets to the people that perceive life in a way similar to yours. So far they are few and far between, but, God, how I love them. Cuz they get "me". My ex-friend didn't. My husband doesn't. But someone did. So now I don't have to die with my song still in me. Someone heard this little bird.

BLOG USE

2011-12-27T23:21:00.000-06:00

Do not try that new Blogger interface. It is AWFUL. Stats are unfindable. It took hours to get back to the original which I found by accident by clicking that little gear picture. Panic. . .

Blog Hop

2011-12-27T23:02:00.000-06:00

The boxing day blog hop is going on yet. Just scroll down a few entries to the links. It won't hurt. I will go back and check the ending days.

Self Censorship

2011-12-27T12:25:00.000-06:00

I didn't cave into a censor. I considered his remarks and decided he was right, that the Christmas cartoon might seem in bad taste to many, so it is gone. Still, folks, remember. I am really tired of hearing that Yes, Virginia joke.

RETURN to UPSY DOWNY LAND

2011-12-26T20:55:00.001-06:00

Bad start to the day with emotional interchange about visiting my grandson. He's here and all is fine. Then:

Four star review from Barnes and Noble: "Crazy good read".

Bipolar overload

Jenny is one bipolar crazy woman. She climbs into her best friend Barney's window as a young teen and begs for him to teach her about sex but it leads to a connection that neither of them can ever let go of even through marriages and children. While Jenny will always love Barney, she loves her actor husband Daniel too and they all have to learn to live with her actions and her condition. Crazy good read but after 600+ pages, the ending seemed kind of abrupt.

That's 600 Nook pages, guys, so don't worry. Sort of a series And everything works out for all my guys so better keep reading!!. I couldn't be happier with this person's choice of words.

BOXING DAY BLOG HOP

2011-12-26T12:12:00.000-06:00

Here are the links for the BOXING DAY BLOGHOP. You should find the link to the next one at each site. There are puzzles and giveaways. My giveaway link is posted at the bottom of this list. I am a novice at this so I hope it works out well for all of you and I hope you had a wonderful Holiday. Thanks for stopping by.

1. www.karenlowe.co.uk
2. http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com

3. http://roseshadows.wordpress.com

4. www.hamgee.co.uk/blog
5. http://lexirevellian.blogspot.com/
6. http://theaatkinson.wordpress.com
7. www.mhairisimpson.com
8. http://rubybarnes.blogspot.com
9. http://murderimpossible.blogspot.com
10. http://jimthewriterb.wordpress.com
11. http://dittymac.blogspot.com
12. http://vernonjbaker.blogspot.com
13. www.renaspromise.com
14. http://bullprotettoremurdermysteries.blo...

I am giving away a free download of SACRED SIN. It is available until January 15, 2012.
Here is the link!

http://smashwords.com/books/view/85160

This is a modern love story with some explicit content.

reply | flag *

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

2011-12-24T12:59:00.001-06:00

MAY 2012 BRING THIS MUCH JOY AND BEAUTY TO ALL OF US.
MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HANUKKAH, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JESUS.

Indie Publishing--an Analogy

2011-12-21T14:21:00.001-06:00

(Loudly blowing horn. . .)

I'm an "Indie Publisher". That covers a lot of ground: self-published, Kindle, Smashwords, Indie Press and others. It was a combination of impatience and snobbery that led me down that path. I don't even fit the amorphous indie model. I write street language, infidelity, God dropping in for an occasional remark or two. But it's good. It's light, fast, fun, irreverent, sexy and not dirty. I don't think a good BJ scene has to be dirty, with a lot of slobbering, romantic over-the-top description of the penis, submissive behavior, and a bossy guy to be realistic or good or sexy. I'm probably one of a very few that can write a sexy BJ scene that is nice. Lora Leigh's are f-ing scary. Rate 'em.

And then when the rejection letters came filled with poor grammar, misspellings, missing words, (fill in the blank in their form letters where they could not bother to fill in the blank) and obvious signs that they never looked at the work, well, I love you, Betsy, but fuck 'em.

So a new track ball on the desktop pc, a new laptop, and an illness have kept me away from my creative endeavors and I have been watching movies. Last night I fell asleep watching Teeth which was about vagina dentata and sucked, which I realize is an oxymoron. But, when I woke, I was wide awake and it was quite late so I surfed Starz On Demand, and started to watch The Cleaner. Did you ever hear of it? I haven't. Samuel L. Jackson, who has been in some turkeys, but was doing an excellent job of being Samuel L. Jackson, always his best role. That beautifully aging fox, Ed Harris. Complex plot. Little straggling octopus threads grabbing you right off. Good subplot with Jackson's daughter, not thrown in, important, interesting. You know how in Transporter Jason Statham goes up to the wrought iron gate of the manse and it's what's her name --Amber Valletta?-- and it rates him a huge cardboard statue in the theater lobby? Well, Jackson goes up to the wrought iron gate and it is Eva Mendez doing her usual wooden Barbie thing, but being very beautiful and just interesting to watch, but no cardboard statue for Jackson. Alicia Silverstone as Jackson's office manager looking better than she ever did, (needed a little more of her acerbic commentary here)

So here's my point. They have algorithms. And Alvin and the Chipmunks gets the play, the licensing, the press. Pirates of the Caribbean--you see how much those fucking Legos cost. Cleaner gets shit. Probably went straight to Video.

I write The Cleaner of love stories. Lora Leigh writes the Alvin and the Chipmunks or The Transporter of love stories. Harlequin Press has its algorithms, probably constructed by the same programmer that said Alvin and the Chipmunks would make millions. I walked the walk. Alvin didn't. We can't fit any agent's algorithm. Too bad for them. A couple of four star reviews by strangers that indicate they actually got what I was writing tell me I did good. Maybe not for the fans of The Tortured Love of the Troubled Duke or Alvin, but good enough to appeal to the same people that surf for a good movie to watch--and occasionally find one. Maybe not great, but good. And enjoyable. I got more than 900 downloads from Barnes and Noble for my Lawman freebie and 21 of those people bothered to rate it so far, and some were four stars. I can still walk the walk. Pay attention to my name.

I am feeling waaay better, and I told you you were gonna get it.

Stuck in the Middle

2011-12-20T13:01:00.000-06:00

Just don't forget, guys. Lawman doing well on Barnes & Noble and Sony. Inching along on Amazon, but still alive. SACRED SIN doing great with freebie at Smashwords. I wish I knew something about marketing trends.
The Maze is for sale at Amazon, but I am working on an edited edition. Can't put links as I am not home. Hang in there with me okay?

Grrrrrr

2011-12-14T18:42:00.003-06:00

Louie bought me a laptop computer for Christmas. Louie bought me a laptop computer for Christmas last year. We could not get on the internet or do any thing with it, so it was all "blamed" on the local wi-fi connections and the router we were using and it went back to the store. It was unusable. So THIS YEAR he bought me the exact same one Cassie bought because she took it out of the box and got everything up and working in about ten minutes. We were not home when she did that. That is, I was not home, and, more importantly, LOUIE was not at home. A zillion years ago Louie's profession was going into banks and putting all their operations on computer. Mind you, at that time, the computer took up a whole room and had to have a special humidity and temperature controlled environment. Sort of like back to the Jurassic period computer-wise. Therefore, he considers himself the know all end all of computer operation. This can be visualized as the guy in the phone kiosk at the mall explaining an Android app to Alexander Graham Bell. So, he has been sitting at the dining room table for one and a half hours and he just gave up, saying it had sent him into outer space and he didn't know what to do now. No. We will not PAY the geek squad to come and help us. It will go back to the store.

My only option will be to buy one on the QT and sneak it in the house when he is not home and have Cassie take it out of the box and set it up for me. Meanwhile, I am doing fine on this old HP. Just now he asked if the first part of our phone number was 265. Jesus save me.

Think I will rustle up my vintage housewife pic.

Free download.

2011-12-09T22:52:00.000-06:00

Another Freebie

SACRED SIN is available for free download from Smashwords until 1/15/12. It is a modern love story, somewhat racy.

This can be downloaded to any device or to your PC.

The free download of LAWMAN is over now.

Getting Noticed

2011-12-09T22:49:00.000-06:00

Thunder

2011-12-07T21:43:00.000-06:00

I am thunderstruck. My world has tilted on its axis. This is partially due to the shit load of codeine that I am ingesting and partially due to the fact that I discovered something today called the affiliate sales site on Smashwords. God bless Barnes and Noble. Long may they prosper. I have a new outlook on life, on my work, on me.

I hope I still have it when the antibiotics and the codeine are gone.

Giving In To the System

2011-12-06T21:16:00.000-06:00

I gave in and went to the dr. and got antibiotics and some lovely, dreamy, special cough syrup. I know I was being stubborn but I have had enough lectures on "It's a virus. Antibiotics won't help it." Actually I set the galleys on that book for Contemporary Press. So I waited the whole twelve days. Viruses are supposed to go away in ten. So in a couple of days you are going to get it from me big time, and I'm not talking about my cold. The thing is, you slack off a few days and the attention just fades away. What is wrong with you? Where do your loyalties lie? When I am needing you the most, where are you? You know how bad this was? Louie folded my laundry for me. Forty seven years that took. Please. A cool cloth and a few There, there's is all I ask. I've been so good to you. Well, except for that little fire I started on Mises. That did distract me a bit. They know about loyalty at least.

Another Freebie

2011-12-01T11:26:00.000-06:00

SACRED SIN is available for free download from Smashwords until 1/15/12. It is a modern love story, somewhat racy.

The free download of LAWMAN is over now.

Philosophical fun with the flu

2011-11-28T21:21:00.000-06:00

I'm sick. I will be better before I get to read through ALL your messages of sympathy so don't send one. Buy my book instead. But I have never been so philosophical about illness and I wonder if it is age-related or what.

Last week I felt like every muscle in my body was complaining as though ~~I'd gotten/I got out of a~~ ~~risen~~ I rose from a wheelchair and ran a marathon. And, no, that is not politically incorrect cuz if I didn't have surgery eight years ago, I would be in a wheelchair. Then Thanksgiving was its usual depressing downer and I woke up Friday feeling sick. I mentioned to my daughter that it would be interesting to know what the germ does in your body to make you feel this way and she offered me her Pathophysiology text. Okay, I am not that interested.

So I've just been sleeping and reading a lot and taking so much medicine. Benadryl and guiafenesin and aspirin or ibuprofen plus the usual daily six pack (not beer, for God's sake.) And I would have an English muffin (which I fork-split) just because I thought my stomach could not bear the chemical assault, but then I would feel like I was going to lose that, small wonder the chemical stew in there. And my mind feels fine, but is really racing, more than usual. I think the pressure from the sinuses causes this. I offer myself as test subject. And today Fran wanted to do secret shopping for the kiddos and I wanted so much to go along and look at toys and play with the Fisher-Price pianos and stuff. So we go Panera and Toys r us and she swings through the ATM lane which is half way back to my house and I said, maybe you should take me home cuz I don't feel so good. I get out of her car and I STAGGERED. You know how people always use that word and really what does it mean? I staggered over and leaned on a tree then staggered to the porch and leaned on the door and got the door open and leaned on the wall and slowly staggered up the six stairs. I am sure the neighbors think I had a three martini lunch.

What is being "sick"? It doesn't hurt. It's just like weirdness and a different feeling in every cell. I don't even have a fever. And they say 'that song is sick' and it could mean it is great or horrible. "You sick bastard!" is definitely negative but frequently said with a laugh. Well, it's a good reason to rest up and slack off and make people go buy you popsicles. And I am almost finished with a little mystery book that popped out of the bookcase at me that was published in 1968 and is actually pretty good. There's a right moment for everything. So, back to my book. I'll be fine tomorrow. Which is what I thought last night.

I was dabbling with the Kindle last night or afternoon, it is all a blur to me, and I was reading my own book, which I do all the time, and I noticed I use the word GOT an awful lot.

Today's CTA: what is your favorite flavor popsicle?

Thanksgiving Oatmeal

2011-11-22T22:39:00.000-06:00

WARNING!! This is a complete downer.

I have these pictures when Fran was about three and it is my dining room on Elmwood and this long dining table and this huge turkey and this beautiful tablecloth and Lou and Fran and me. My parents were in Florida having their Turkey dinner at the rec hall and enjoying the hell out of it and you didn't have to wash dishes unless your state was on the social committee that month which happened every 52 plus months because a lot of the people lived in Canada. And everyone else in my family and in Louie's family had something better do to. Actually, they don't like us.

So this year I took the leaf out of the table and the dining room is a little smaller on Hazelwood and it will be Lou and me and my dad, because after my mom died, my dad didn't have anyone to have Thanksgiving dinner with and Fran married into this huge close knit family and we are like the wrinkly old people that scare the little kids. I bought the smallest Turkey in the case and I was invited somewhere by someone nice, but I got this terrible haircut and kind of didn't know what to do with my dad, and Cassie doesn't know if she will be home in time to sit with us and I thought Louie had to work, but he doesn't, so at least he will be there, otherwise it would be me and my dad. How fucking pitiful is that?

But the one that sticks in my mind as the quintessential Thanksgiving day celebration was the year that I gave birth to a six pound stillborn baby boy on November eighteenth and was told I had to buck up and go to auntie's in Glenview for Thanksgiving dinner. And in those days no one acknowledged that you might be feeling grief or sadness and God forbid you should show it and it was cold and drizzly and we are driving out there, me bleeding and breasts aching, and we see this horrible seven car pile up on the Interstate and they are shoveling bodies into ambulances and we get to Auntie's and I get a big hug and "How are you?" Seriously, auntie, what the fuck do you think? I commented that I wasn't feeling too well yet (faux pas in those days) and we saw this horrible accident on the highway and she says, "Oh, today, you have to remember all that you are thankful for." No. I don't want to. And I really should get over it but that is the clincher, like the only parade you will ever remember is when the huge balloon broke free and killed that little boy.

So, you know Google Plus and how it is a huge pain in the neck? Well, I think it saved my life today. They had this riff from The Oatmeal about Thanksgiving and I laughed out loud about four times. Thank you Francesca for cluing me into The Oatmeal. And , everyone, have a happy Holiday. I love turkey and I make the best gravy in the whole fucking world. Your loss.

Straightening things out.

2011-11-22T22:20:00.000-06:00

SEE?

2011-11-19T19:13:00.000-06:00

Obviously

2011-11-18T13:15:00.004-06:00

I have the Style Guide thing all worked out and I figured out how to load non Amazon stuff on my Kindle. No. I didn't figure it out. I figured out how to follow someones perfectly explicit and clear directions. So, obviously, I have no more barriers in the way of my getting on with publishing my book and a half, and, obviously, my head is spinning with thoughts that need to pour out. You can't stop me from pouring them out. Just don't read them if you don't like them. If it will make the inside of your head feel better, you can even delete them. But, I am warning you, that would be a mistake. Anyway, this whole rant is a stall and a waste of everyones time.

The theme of today's discussion is tattling. If you were ever a mom, you know the painful dichotomy of trying to teach your kids not to be a tattle tale and having the burden of knowing they are aware of something horrible going on that they are afraid of telling because they don't want to be a tattle tale. These bits of knowledge may run the gamut from Joey taking that dime that you left on the dryer after it fell out of someones jeans, or he let that horrible little boy down the street ride his bike and that is why it is broken, but after all, he will man up and take the blame because you already told him not to let that creature ride the brand new bike, and he cannot possibly tattle on the horrible creature. First of all it would be tattling, and foremost, the horrible child would maim him for life. Somewhere along the line, most children learn to determine that it is a necessity to tell your mommy that you saw Mr. Jorgenson burying his wife under the birdbath and you should just keep quiet about the fact that your sister puts lipstick on as soon as she is half way down the block.

But not everyone gets to this place in their life. I was standing at the service desk in WalMart, waiting to send the latest multi thousand dollar money order to my lover that lives on a small Greek Island when a woman came in and CUT in line, her mission was so important. She gave the description and license numbers of several cars in the parking lot that had ignored and/or disobeyed the handicap sign regulations and she demanded that the service desk commander, already stressed because she was alone and eight people were already waiting in line, call the local police immediately to come and cite these people for their malfeasance.
The service desk person began to look about for the telephone book, muttering how she didn't have the number at hand and couldn't this wait while she took care of the other people ahead of her, and the parking space troll said it had to be done immediately in case the people breaking this law left before they were properly chastised and made to give up a portion of their time and their personal fortune because of their sin and "the number is written right here on your desk blotter because I saw it there yesterday". This is the woman's hobby.

Before I got my new prosthetic knees and it still hurt to walk, I nudged a shopping cart up a little with my car so I could fit into a space closer to the store and the shopping cart rolled into the corral for carts that was directly in front of the space I had chosen. A woman saw this and circumnavigated the lot so she could drive all the way back to tell me she didn't think I should do that because the cart corral deserved that space also. By this time I had left the car and was walking toward the store and exaggerating my crippled hobble for her benefit. I said, "Call the police." and went into the store. She may have been the Wal Mart parking lot troll and I just caught her at shank's end of her daily forays.

My neighbor's children raised a few chickens, maybe five, for a 4-H project. They built a maze type structure for the chickens to play in which extended into my yard. One of our more observant neighbors reported us. The police showed up at my house. I blurted, "but they are Miller's chickens". The Millers, eleven years later, still refer to this as me reporting them to the police. At least they are being facetious. I hope.

I made a half joking remark on a thread that I didn't need to be on, one never does need to be on a thread actually, about how I had cheated on the NaNoWriMo contest (if you don't know what that is, leave well enough alone cuz it is stupid) by posting a novel I had finished writing months before. I was called out for my moral turpitude and lectured on how that would destroy my character and tarnish my legacy, if I was not already beyond hope, which they pointedly remarked, I must already be.

I was discussing the variety of resources one could access when making or buying cover art for their self-published works, and I mentioned that one image I used was gifted, three were purchased and one was stolen. I got the lecture about copyright law and how someone would come after me. What? Are they going to confiscate my royalties? Good luck with that.

Then there are the times when you (at least I) sit and mull about how you let so and so get away with such and such, and how one person you know sues anyone and everyone for anything and everything, and the only thing I can come up with is something my mom said. And I am not given to quoting bon mot from my mother because she was not too big on that, preferring the Martini as a coping mechanism; "Mend your own fences." Which, I will translate for you, my beloved readers, "Mend your own fucking fences, asshole."

Today's provocative, dialogue inducing question: Do you even have a fence?

It Happened Again

2011-11-17T23:10:00.000-06:00

When you do this indie publishing thing, you(I) hear from so many people that are so opposed to it. I, personally, am all over the map about is this whoring? Is this frustration? Is this vanity? Is this a need to enlighten? Is this a waste of my time and other's time and space? When the gauge by which you judge yourself is so palpable and undeniable as actual dollars or actual printed words, it is so easy to let yourself be wracked by self doubt. I think this is normal. I don't think I am particularly more or less filled with self doubt than any other Joe Shmoe. And I already discussed being a Joe Shmoe and being accepting of that. And I totally feel that putting your words and thoughts out in the public eye indicates that there is a lot more going on than self doubt. And then you get a random review from a random stranger and you are jubilant. Not so much an ego thing, that they Like you, like Sally Field, but that the words they chose indicate they get what you are saying. This holds far more meaning for me than having someone say "Your style is so fun or amazing, or ridiculous, or convoluted, or strange, or stupid, or hideous."

But then you are kind of noticing a person, and identifying with their doubts and their struggles and you go so far as to compliment them and try to encourage them and buoy them up a bit and thank them for sharing with you, and then you read something, and it is like Holy Shit. This sucks. This makes no sense. I can't follow this. My sophomore English teacher gave me more props than this will ever get. This is fucking hopeless. What do you do? I know what I do, what I will do, what is the only comfortable path for me. I am going to fade out of the scenario. And I'm gonna wonder. Self doubt? Apparently I have none. Apparently there is just a certain blindness people have. Apparently people that love me want me to just stay in my cloud of self-delusionment for fear of hurting me (which never seemed to bother them before) or robbing me, in my final moments, of my last thread of hope.. . Or apparently I can write.

And, you know what? I will never have an answer for that.

The Pain of Knowledge

2011-11-17T21:26:00.002-06:00

There was some cowboy sidekick guy that was always saying "You young whippersnappers". I am doing my doctoral dissertation on the origins and underlying meanings behind that phrase and its usage.

It was a chilly, drizzly, windy day in North Suburban Chicago, a place where everyone knows we have four nice days a year. The doorbell rang. An unusual occurrence causing the dog to freak. Spellcheck picked up three errors in that one sentence.

It was AT(&)T Uverse salesmen and we welcomed them into the foyer--a lovely warm room. They went on and on to my spouse. I kept interjecting. I finally introduced myself into the conversation, introduced in the sense of inserting, not in the sense of saying my name. I stated that it was my decision since it was my portion of the allowance and my name on the account and I was ready to say yes, BUT. . .

By now one of the youngsters was sitting on the staircase, as was I, and a third lovely young lady had joined us. She was carrying a Glock 27 with gold engraving on the butt and shot the dog. Just kidding.

I asked a few questions like would I still get STARZ (Are those peni on Spartacus prosthetic? This has yet to be answered.) (No. I didn't ask the salesman that. Really, now. . . Why would you even think that?) and how long was the promotional period and it soon became time to initial documents which I was prepared to do since they had assured me they were not contracts, but simply payment agreements. That's a new one, huh? At one point the young man answered a question I posed and I said, "Yeah. But you might be playing me. You kind of look like you are." He was classically dumbfounded. Or at least the expression on his face indicated that. Someone had to pick up the conversational ball that he dropped at that moment.

There was quite a bit of banter about our incredible age and their incredible youth and local dialect and what it was like to live in Riyadh, even for short periods of time. And I said, "Okay, but recently I was discussing things with a local resident and she mentioned that uVerse was supposed to be the best but we couldn't get it in our area." The young man had earlier reassured my husband that they had surreptitiously inserted fiber optic cable under our driveway, at which time, while the theme from The Twilight Zone played softly in the background, I bit my tongue so as not to embarrass my spouse who actually worked repairing engines in Nuclear submarines and actually installed fiber optic cable under the Chicago River. I was dismayed that he was buying that story, but I know men of his age frequently have minor neurological events that can impair their thinking processes.

As a sort of reply to my comment, the young whippersnapper sitting near me in the stairwell shook a bundle of papers at me and said, "Would we be out in this weather if we didn't already have that information?" in what can only be described as a snippy tone. And she showed me our address on one of her pieces of paper. Now my spouse was clearly biting his tongue--I knew this cuz blood was flowing down his chin--(just kidding again) because I frequently embarrass him with my outbursts of knowledge that he thinks I manufacture on the spot since he knows I wouldn't be married to him if I had a working brain cell. So off they went into the unpleasant weather, glowing and congratulating each other for another job well done, another sale they closed, another success story to last them the rest of their lives.

Three days later, my husband played back a few voice mails. We do this once a year. There was a message from AT(&)T stating that uVerse was not yet available in our area, but if we called them in a few months maybe they could help us. Once again, fuck me.

I have found that most bloggers end their blogs with a provocative question, probably to encourage commenting and continued social intercourse.

How do you slice an English Muffin?

Postponement and Apologia

2011-11-16T21:57:00.000-06:00

For those of you that have entered these hallowed halls eagerly anticipating the thrilling cable saga, I must apologize most humbly. I am unable to present it this evening. Please do not hold this against me and let me plead for you to continue your disproportionately appreciated patronage. I have a wonderful reason. It is valid and not to be mistaken for an excuse.

The part of my brain that exudes philosophical thought has swelled up. It hurts and I plan to take a shitload of drugs and ice it.

The Big Reason Why

2011-11-15T22:18:00.000-06:00

Concerning the madness that is the current state of the publishing industry:

I should not be bothering. People are BUYING, with apparent intellectual deliberation, apparently with actual money, books about whales that live in the center of the sun. Fuck me.

First of all, how would you get close enough to the actual sun to determine it had life forms within it, and then how would you be able to navigate through the corona of blazing hydrogen in order to communicate and interact with the creatures you there discovered. And, if any type of life form was able (were able?) to evolve under the conditions that exist within the center of the sun that must be rather horrendous considering that the end result is a corona of blazing hydrogen, why would that life form be a fucking whale. Seriously?

And B, why would anyone choose to interact with that life form if they did happen to be able to transnavigate the possible hazards of entering and hoping to exit a blazing hydrogen corona. Were they hoping to gather information that would be useful to them the next time they choose to discover whether or not it would be possible to enter the center of an object in space whose corona was perhaps blazing nitrogen?

And last and least, why would anyone want to write about such an unlikely combination of specific threads? I am thinking taking those little poetry magnets off the fridge door and shaking them about in a plastic jug and allowing seven of them to fall to the floor which would then become the title of your next literary masterpiece.

And then again, WHY would someone want to read about it? I am sure the person that entered the sun was the same person who owned the derelict salvage hauling space craft that contained the cargo of eggs which held embryonic, almost ready to hatch, male sex slaves with two peni. Fucking big eggs I imagine. Either that or really tiny male sex slaves with therefore tinier peni, explaining in a logical sort of way why he had to have two of them.

This is a BUSINESS that people sit around and form marketing plans for, and discuss, and go to school and pay a lot of tuition money to be accepted in the world of publishing. But then again, considering what is going on around me, tomorrow the cable tale, why would I expect anything other than complete insanity? And why do I worry about what is going on inside my head. It beats the hell out of what y'all are trying desperately to pass off as reality.

Ennui

2011-11-14T18:19:00.000-06:00

(No, seriously. What is with google? The whole frigging thing just disappears?)

I do not understand how universities and colleges can create Marketing curricula. It all seems entirely random to me. I post just to be posting what seems kind of a run on of blather, and it receives WAAY more hits than the one's I deliberately plan and promote. Why?

I am so sick of uploading or downloading pictures and manuscripts and style guides, I just want to never do it again and think I never should have started this because it is like dope. "Today I'll only take two of those and one of those. Whoops! They are all gone. Where did they go? I wish I never started with them" And looking at stats and comments is EXACTLY like counting how many xanax I have left. At least to me. Maybe you are healthy or something.

And checking to see if the late night or early morning flashes of literary brilliance have made it from the little orange Mickey Mouse notebook into the proper manuscript. The last MS I uploaded was so full of errors. Thank the powers that be that I am now a freaking expert on how to edit, search and replace and upload new versions in matters of minutes. (Put it on your Kindle and make the notes there.) And at least and at last, it is up, and actually sold already, but I haven't put it on Smashwords because for some ungodly reason the guide stored as individual little jpegs and it would take hours to find anything so I have to remember how I did that before so I could just keep it minimized on the desktop while I work. And I am absolutely thinking what a waste of these last few precious minutes I have on Earth and why am I not waxing floors or doing something someone might actually appreciate (what exactly would that be?) when I look and see there is a huge bump in sales. Why?

I am absolutely at the place where I am calling the characters by the wrong name. Or, honestly, forgetting what name I gave a character. I swore I would stop at four. I couldn't imagine getting any more ideas to run with since I don't know where the ideas ever came from in the first place, although I am pretty sure it is because of the change in meds. But, lo and behold, or not, as you choose, there I am at two in the morning doing three or four thousand words on Jenny's first marriage. Why?

Did you ever google yourself? Do you think that is a sick thing to do? There are 63,000 entries under Virginia Llorca. There is a twenty one year old girl in North Carolina named Virginia Llorca. How the fuck could that happen? I have stressed promoting that as my brand name cuz I thought it was so one of a kind-ish. She's probably getting all my royalty checks. Where else would they ALL be?

I swear to God and the gods, if I see one mention of the word ennui in anyone's blog this week, they are gonna get it.

Notoriety and Personality

2011-11-09T18:06:00.000-06:00

I have always wanted to be me. I think I have discussed this before. I had a friend in high school who wished fervently she was a male. She never had any of what may be called gender issues in actual fact and turned out to function just fine as a wife and a mom, and I think it was more of a comment on the way females were considered by society at that time. And, no, you don't need to know what that time was. But I have always been happy to be me. I have been depressed and embarrassed and angry at things I have done or had to deal with, but I am definitely the person who knows the truth about the saying, "If you could trade your bag of troubles for someone else's, you would always pick your own." And, lately, I have put myself out in the public eye a little more than I have ever done before, so I should expect more feedback, both negative and positive. But something really weird happened. I am moderated out of a certain discussion group automatically. I have participated in this discussion group for a long time, but always on a very limited basis, and it is true that my avatar may be considered in poor taste by some and that may be the reason. Although it was never the reason before. But, I am the first to tell you, I am failing in many respects due to health issues, and one of the first things I notice, and I am sure others noticed it long before it became apparent to me, is the deficiency in my short term memory. I know this is perfectly normal and I am not too worried about it and do the crosswords and stuff to keep the synapses firing, but still, I feel, even admitting I am kind of an ass, my basic intellect is still with me. Maybe not as easy to access. But I don't think I have become "stupid". I mean every one is stupid about something, right, especially if they are in love, but I haven't lost the ability to think and figure out stuff. I honestly think I am moderated out of this discussion group, damn, I wish I could say who it is, no, it's not Mises, and damn, I wish you really could give a shit, but I think the person who writes the column cannot deal with my remarks. I think they do not know how to deal with it, or counter it, or whatever, and whether or not it is relevant to the discussion, my remarks are never argumentative. They can always be classified as comments. Well, I just thought it was interesting, especially since it has come on the heels of my learning that twitter works.

And a very successful writer used this phrase in the very successful writer's blog recently, ". . . where you can get it at." This is supposed to be Midwestern, specifically, some believe, Chicagoan. My sister in law teases me about it cuz I say like: "are you going with?"and it creeps into the every day language, especially if you have not spent much time out of the Midwest.(Me.) But I thought, for someone who has sold many millions of words and therefore 26 million more letters of the alphabet that this was kind of glaring. I know everyone could use a good editor, and, briefly, I was one, and even editors miss errors. And I put stuff like "y'all" into my sentences frequently, mostly cuz it is so convenient a construction, and, for God's sake, my own, very bright and highly educated daughter says "sangwich", Jesus, but I thought this one really popped out. And it bugs me how some people are in the right place at the right time even when they may not be the person that should have been in that right place at that particular right time. So I am jealous. A certain work of my own literary aspirations has been downloaded 104 times in the last week, and I maybe just kind of want to work that into the conversation, and how very sorry I am that it was for a free offer and only about one percent of those people are willing to pay real cash money for said work. And I am totally thrilled to get the word out, by any means, and I am getting pretty damned whorish about that part of it, but, whatever. Professional jealousy comes with the territory. I just hope certain people maintain their humility in the glare of their fame. Oh, sure, that's what I mean. Really.

And Delaney got her ears pierced today and I cried more than she did. Is it that wrong of me to consider that her good nature is genetically anomalous?

Hugest compliment. Hugest thank you.

2011-11-07T12:37:00.003-06:00

Someone gets it. How lucky I am.

Review by: Sue Leonhardt on Nov. 07, 2011 :
I received "Lawman" by Virginia Llorca through the Goodreads ebook giveaway.Can two hearts make time for each other, with their busy lives, and make it work? This is a fast paced fun read about a young widow and a Government "operative". He tries to keep the needed secrecy of his job from interfering with his hoped for relationship with a willful young widow. Lily Scofeldt is a 24 year old widow with two preschool children living in Iowa,and agent Tim Raia is also divorced with a 13 year old daughter living in Chicago.These people never seem to get out of bed. Lots of quickies.I laughed when Tim left her house one time and said" Thank you sincerely for the hospitality".This book is light entertainment. Easy read but it shows the deeper side of what it takes to commit to a relationship, second time around.

reviews

2011-11-05T12:43:00.000-05:00

Someone put up the most super negative review imaginable about LAWMAN on Goodreads. I must be getting good at this cuz it gave me a chuckle. She said one line (which she quoted incorrectly, and which I admit, was one of my better ones) was "exquisite". So I'm going to do like they do in the movie ads:

Review of Lawman in Goodreads: "Exquisite."

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005KN6S4E

Sweet Sex in the Shower

2011-11-04T15:22:00.001-05:00

“Maisie.”

“We shouldn’t talk. We shouldn’t talk about it. It’s getting dark out. We didn’t have dinner. We should go get dinner.”

“Maisie.”

“Shh.” She got up and walked to the shower and she had to go past two beds and across the room and he was stunned. Where was he? Why were they here? Why was she with him? How can someone’s ass look that perfect? And it moves when her legs move. And it’s so cute. The way that happens. And she turned to go into the bathroom. Her breasts barely move when she walks. They fit her so perfectly. That is just amazing. Everyone else’s breasts are way too big. That is exactly how they are supposed to be. How come I never noticed that before? No. I noticed it. I was just afraid to think about it. Those other breasts were the only ones available. I am really glad I finally got to see the right ones. The perfect ones. She let me touch them. She let me make love to her. We had sex. She made love to me. I. . . He walked into the bathroom and got into the shower with her. This must be a nice hotel. This is a beautiful shower. And she lathered up her hair and she lathered up his hair and she soaped up her hands and ran them over her body and between her legs and then she took the bar of soap and rubbed it in her hands until they got all bubbly again and she was chuckling softly. He kind of thought she was smiling out loud again. She ran her slippery soapy hands over his chest and under his arms and down between his legs and she washed him. He stood under the most wonderful showerhead in the world in the most beautiful shower stall in the world with Maisie. And she washed him. And then she took the spray shower and rinsed all the soap off him and she pushed him down just a little bit, but, really, he thought, in a very gentle, encouraging kind of way, so that he had to sit on the ceramic tiled bench that was so beautifully constructed into the side of this wonderful shower and she knelt down in front of him and took his penis into her mouth and her mouth was even warmer than the shower, the most wonderful mouth in the world, the most beautiful mouth, Maisie’s mouth, Maisie’s lips, Maisie’s tongue, and wow, even a little bit there with Maisie’s teeth, and he thought, I’m dying. I’m dying. Oh, my God. I’m dying. And so she sucked the last little bit of life from him. But he didn’t feel dead. He felt so happy. I’m so happy. Maisie makes me so happy. She lets me touch her. She makes me come. She fucks me. She blows me. I am the happiest person in the whole world. The world is so beautiful. God must love me. I hope I never wake up. “Here. Here. Please.” And she was holding his hand and forcing it between her legs. Forcing him to touch her there. “Please.” She was begging him to touch her. Honest to God, begging. I should touch her like this. She will like it if I touch her like this. Oh, God. I’m getting hard again. I love to touch her here. I think she likes this. And she said, “Ummm.” And she lowered herself onto his cock and rode off into that wonderful empty distance and he followed her and he was so glad. So happy. I hope I never wake up.

“We have to get dinner. I’m starving.”

Second Thoughts

2011-11-03T22:18:00.000-05:00

Remorse? I put up an excerpt from book three and then took it down. I was ticked because it didn't make a wave on twitter. Then I notice ten links from twitter. I am an ass.

I am hating the mood swings lately. Usually I know enough to go with it and get what I can out of it, but I usually know the precipitating factors. I had to take my MS down cuz I saw (on my beloved Kindle) that it was awash in typos and an actual MISSPELLED word. I wonder what else is in there that I didn't notice. but I was so nervous about re posting. Kindle tried to do a one up on the Smashwords Style guide and it got me all anxious. I just did it the old way. So I was nervous about that and now it is done, so I guess I feel like this because I dealt with the source of the anxiety, but I would prefer to feel like this at nine a.m., thank you. Then maybe I'd get that kitchen floor done. And I know the book was full of errors cuz I am so not into it anymore. One person found one typo in the first book.

I want to go outside and shoot that satellite down.

Sort of a Series

2011-10-31T19:42:00.000-05:00

The third novel of mine, THE MAZE, is up for review on Amazon.com and should be available Tuesday evening. This is good news for me as series type stuff is supposed to sell better, but about eighty people have read the second book, LAWMAN, and about twenty have read SACRED SIN, so I think the series potential is kind of lost out there in no man's land.

I love this book and had to end it the way that was comfortable for me. I am looking forward to hearing about how everyone else thinks it should have ended. I was so nervous about it for some reason I do not understand. I hate the techy stuff and ended up putting up a cover that I decided on at the last minute. I have no idea if it even matters. It looks pretty nice actually. When the sale on LAWMAN is over on December first, I will put SACRED SIN on a special promotion. By then I should be ready with the fourth in the sort of a series. I know everyone who has read SACRED SIN or LAWMAN will want to read THE MAZE.

Nothing

2011-10-27T22:34:00.001-05:00

I have nothing to say. I am restless and bored and feel no interest in anything. So just move on .

Nothing: I realized at some point today that there is only one reason women buy cosmetics or go on diets, or get hair cuts, or brush their teeth or work out, or go to school, or be polite, and, if any of us care to go on a rant about how we are not really shallow, really go to school and dye our hair because of our self-esteem, and that nothing and no one can cause us to ever feel that we are anything but the most distinctive individuals and we truly have come a long way, baby, consider that this finding is based on a life-long but very casual study of and interest in anthropology, combined with various opinions and knowledge about the effect of the basic structure of DNA and the complete unchange-ability of certain genetic characteristics that form our character and therefore anchor the most basic components of civilization. This is the reason:

And, personally, I feel it is also the reason we get away with being so bitchy and it is also the underlying cause of every war ever fought. I think a high IQ, though perhaps nice, is a stupid benchmark, representing nothing, only giving some people something to tether their opinions to, and I freely admit, and have done so here on previous occasions, I am a very shallow, very vain person. But there are certain laws Mother Nature put into effect for a reason, and this photo is clear illustration of one of those laws. And I know none of you can argue with me about this. It is also the reason I write fiction. Very enjoyable fiction.

Just Hanging Around, Waiting. . .

2011-10-25T17:11:00.000-05:00

Anyone thinking about it, the free give away thing is a REALLY good idea. 27 downloads in 24 hours. Too bad they don't BUY it at that rate. Hopefully, someone will mention it to someone, etc. . . But it has other side effects. Besides a bump in blog hits, I actually had someone link to this site through Smashwords. I was kind of thinking I was wasting my time there. So now I am all fired up.

THANKS EVERYBODY!!!

Okay. I Am Sorry

2011-10-23T13:38:00.000-05:00

I have heard the coupon doesn't work, so the price for LAWMAN is zero until December 1, 2011.

I apologize for attempting to be clever. That never did work for me. What was I thinking?

The Opposite of

2011-10-21T23:26:00.000-05:00

I have been feeling well. I worked on putting the Christmas lights on my Hawthorn tree. I know it is early days, but I was so in love with it last year, I vowed to repeat it and to start when the weather was more mild. I would be fine with leaving it on all year like Italian restaurants are allowed. Every single time I would drive by my property at night I would feel gladness to see it. Anyway, I enjoyed it and made some decent progress and the weather was wonderful. But I had to stop sooner than I wanted to because every time I came down the ladder I got all woozy. A little wooziness doesn't bother me. I used to go to great trouble and expense to artificially create that feeling. But I am a little too old to be hopping about on my prosthetic devices and had the wisdom to stop. Only after I noticed each time the wooziness became a little more pronounced.

Then I worked on the cover pic. I give up. I will use the one I am not too thrilled with. I need to get on with this. If I improve it, replacing it will be no big deal. Then I proofed a bit and found some hilarious errors. I changed a few words but no ideas. I like the "wrap-up" chapter and I was a little worried about it seeming corny. But I have heard it is the usual for the genre. I am getting so artsy fartsy serious about this project that started out as a little off shoot of my madness. The worst thing that can happen to a person is to start to take themselves too seriously. Seriously.

So I have been sitting here a while, played a Big Fish Game, slow but decent art, so I persist, and blog surfed. My hands are starting to hurt so it is almost nighty night for me. BUT.

I have gone on this huge rant at least twice about having my ideas copied, and have placed a huge emphasis on the word SERENDIPITY (it being the subject and perhaps cause of the rant.) , to the point where even I am sick of the sound of it. But weirdness happened tonight and I actually went to Dictionary.com to find out what would be the antonym for serendipity. The best they could come up with is volition and that is not in the park where I am currently playing. Serendipity is when you happen by chance on good or pleasant things. What is it when you happen by chance on a whole string of incredible downers? Blog surfing can be bad for your health. You know how they group them on Blogger? Like a bunch in Spanish or a bunch about photography? I came upon one about the still birth of a baby. Twelve seconds to click onward for that one, thanks. Then a lovely young man had a whole blog devoted to his suicide, and these, no kidding were interspersed with advertisements about funeral homes, a story about what life held in store for a recent graduate of a school of funeral science (or what ever the fuck you would call that) and a story about this historical cemetery that is falling into ruin and it was sold to a concerned care taker. (Well, more than twelve seconds on that one.) I think the reason my hands are starting to hurt is I was too quickly clicking through these. I wonder what kind of day the Google employee was having when he worked on that category. Anyway, it was a stupid way to end a nice day. And I'm not going to turn on the TV cuz last night I watched that whole movie where you don't realize George Clooney is actually dead until just the second before they roll the credits. (Have you noticed that the very handsome George Clooney has a VERY SMALL typically Irish nose? Do you know what that means traditionally? So sad.)

Well, I started reading Bret Lott's "JEWEL" this afternoon and was caught up in it, but I don't think I am going to continue with it tonight. I wish I knew where I could chance, serendipitously on something on the order of the "fucking yogers", or at least find that little corner in my mind from whence that arises.

Geez. I hope you are not reading this at bedtime. What is WRONG with me? And I honestly don't feel really depressed about this. I feel kind of silly.

Down, down, down, the mountain.

Cosmetics

2011-10-16T00:00:00.000-05:00

Today I am going to talk about this wonderful new brand of make up I bought and tried out. No, just kidding. Do you know there are actually dozens of blogs on here that deal with nothing else but makeup and cosmetics? They feature carefully lit photos of bottles of nail polish and open jars of greasy gray stuff that are there so you will want to run out and buy them. Yeah. I need some gray greasy stuff to put on which part of my body?

The thing is, two days ago I had the busiest day ever on my blog, with more hits than I have ever had before. It was nice. But here's the part I don't get. It was one blog post that brought it in. Why? None of these people knew each other or told each other. I had more views of that post and more comments than I have every had before. How does this work? I did no more promos than I ever do for anything I wrote, and yet, there they were. If I had that many sales in one day, I would be over the moon. It couldn't even be like a grapevine as the people were too disparate. It was almost like serendipity or happenstance. (Oh, crap. There I go again with the damn serendipity. Blog land will be full of posts using the word serendipity this week. Just watch.)

And today I came crashing to the ground. Being up a few days ago just made the fall farther and more painful. I have a brother who bought my book. (I have another brother that didn't buy my book.) He said he was very impressed with the characterization and the background, and as he read he tried to think of what might have happened or who had I know in my life that inspired some of the stuff. But he couldn't finish it. He read 24% (he showed me on his Kindle) and he CAN'T read anymore because it is like a "chick flick". I cannot imagine that, if I can sit and read a blog on Mises.org on whether or not it is correct or possible to copyright intellectual property and comment on the article and get into a discussion with an economist about the anthropological reasons why open sourcing will not eliminate aggression, that my own brother cannot get through this easy to read, dialogue driven, light hearted piece of fiction just to see if maybe his sister uses any of his personal history in her story.

I have tried every thing I can think of to promote and tried a lot of things suggested by people in the "field", and nothing works. I love this book and the people in it, and real humans just do not want to read it. So where do the people reading my blog come from? I mention my book in the blog sometimes, but no sales have come from that. I cannot get from the one idea to the other. Well, I am going to put up Book Three and Book Four. Maybe even do that Print on Demand thing, and just die undiscovered and unappreciated. Because I just want to do it. Way more than I want to strip and recoat my damn kitchen floor. Or experiment with cosmetics. I have nothing to lose. That's an easy one if you start out with zero credibility in the beginning.

IT IS JUST ME

2011-10-14T23:08:00.000-05:00

When weird things happen and people react, they often say, "Is it just me. . . or. . .?" Now I know. It's just me. No one else could be this clueless this long. My grand daughter twins live here. Dan would rather not be here. She wants to be with her friend Jess, but Jess currently doesn't have a home to share with Dan. Her mom told her last month to go fend for herself, so she is staying with a "friend". Even so, Dan stays there frequently. But her "stuff" is here.

We have three cars. The Ion was almost solely for the twins use since Fran got married. It needed new brakes. For over a year Dan said Miguel would fix them and the parts were $20. This never happened. Then Dan moved back and a tree fell on the car. She has a job. Cas nannies for Fran and is very much needed for that, so it is a job also I guess. Anyway, when we got the Ion storm damage fixed we had the brakes done and new tires. The storm part was insured; the other over a grand. Mind you, this is now our BEST car since it is ding free and has so much new stuff. I just prefer my Buick. When I can drive. If I can drive. But I think I told that story.

Tonight they walked in with their friend Jess and asked if they could take the car to drive to New York for a concert. (We live on the Northern edge of Illinois) These are the same people that came home with two German Shepherds a while back and expected me to go for that. Basically that is why Dan doesn't live here. And Jess's mom made her get rid of the dog. But I couldn't. At that time, rather than stay with the tyrant Claudia, Cas gave up her dog and moved back here. Dan and her dog lasted a few more months.

Tonight, they could not actually even ask me about this. Cas said, 'we have to talk to you about something' and then the three of them gestured to each other to pick up the conversational ball and roll with it. No one did so I said 'you are not taking the Ion to New York. Try the bus. You ruined the brakes and tires, didn't pay, blah blah blah." The strangest part of this is that they were so dumbfounded I refused. I told them the only reason they have a roof over their head is because their sense of entitlement and lack of accountability are inherited from their mom and dad. I ended up refusing to discuss it further. STFU was basically the way I put it. Along the way I mentioned how they never bothered to say 'if we pay for the brakes and tires can we use the car?' and Jess, uppity little bitch, says "We were going to bring that up, but you said no right away."
During the course of the entire conversation, mind you I said 'NO' before they even had the courage to ask, the subject of them putting the wear on the car and not paying for repair came up about four times.

This (and the dog issue) falls into the same category as Lisa (their mom) calling me 3 weeks after my mother died to ask me how much money my mom left. I know she was champing at the bit trying to let a graceful amount of time lapse. And grandpa Llorca asking me whose fault was it, me or Louie when my baby died of RH problems (so long ago, and NO, I can't let it go) while I was still in the hospital. To say nothing of the various and sundry other misconceptions I get screamed at for. Misconceptions--there is a word I should study.

Is it the look on my face? Is it the way I talk? things I say? I know my voice lacks impact, and maybe that is why I scream and curse so much, but this is just the way I am treated. I do not fucking get it. I feel like I am totally a person who does what she wants, and you can go piss up a rope if you don't like it. Maybe I give in too much, but some of this shit, they have to know it's not going to fly. Some guy said (TO ME) he asks every girl to have sex with him cuz sooner or later one will say yes. (I didn't) I think it must be like that. I am no namby-pamby. When my husband was out of work, I managed to support him and three kids for years. Is that something I should have refused to do? Would things be different if I had refused? Yeah. I'd be married to that asshole, Charlie.

When Lisa was evicted from her hard won HUD house for abandonment, I said to the case worker, "Where did I go wrong?" And she said every single mother she talks to says that.

Some days it is just so fucking hard to remember what part of my life is good, at least that I can actually take credit for. And I have to fucking TAKE credit, cuz for absofuckinglutely sure, NOBODY is going to give it to me. Buy one of my damn books would ya? Be a pal.

COVER GIRL!!!
MY NEXT BOOK: THE MAZE

Shuttlecock

2011-10-11T16:23:00.000-05:00

Confession: This is something I do not keep secret. Sometimes I am guilty of using it as an excuse, or even as a reason. This is not nice, but I forgive myself for lots of stuff. I take enough crap from enough people to balance out my few sins. God said He is cool with that and the thing that I do not keep secret and use as an excuse is a gift from Him, so we have a comfy little circle going. I am bipolar. I am mid spectrum and don't lose it very often now that I am pretty well and correctly medicated. I was diagnosed when I was about 32. It was during an awful period of upheaval in my life, so I have always taken the diagnosis with a grain of salt since it seems it is apparently only a problem when I am pushed to the edge by stress or some other straining effect. (Not that I don't have to deal with ups and downs, sometimes to an absurd extent, but doesn't everyone? ) Plus every one in my family is a little out there, so it's not like I'm an exception or anything. And none of them are the type of people that even notice your peculiarities much less cut you any slack.

So. I am feeling all warm and fuzzy because some of my writings got a bit of really nice feedback.You guys have to be careful with that stuff because the slightest word of encouragement can drive two novels out of my brain on to this little plastic screen and often off to various parts of the world in various electronic forms. None the less, a little validation is nice every now and then. And, frankly, when you live in a home where everything you do is automatically considered 'wrong' by certain people, just because you did it, it is particularly nice to hear compliments.

Then. Let me back up a little. I recently, so recently that the scab has not yet fallen from the wound, ended a very long relationship with my closest friend. I ended it not because she criticized or disagreed with some of my thoughts. (How boring is it to have a conversation with someone who totally agrees with everything you think or say?) I ended it because she used some very hurtful words and chose to broadcast it over the net to everyone in my mailbox and God only knows who else, and, further, enlisted some of her family members to join her army on the battlefield to wage the war against me.

Then a dear, greatly loved family member jumped all over me because of something I said, and have said repeatedly about my relationship with the Supreme Being. (Add personality of your choice to define that according to your personal tastes.) This person did it kindly,and privately,but I cautioned him that I had to hold my beliefs in a way I found comfortable and that because I loved and admired him so very much, it would be better if we didn't have discussions on that topic. We dance around it occasionally, but we honor the parameter that has been set.

So. Yesterday, another family member got WTF all over my ass about something that they THOUGHT I did. (Is it not clear to almost everyone who emails what that peculiar code is that ends message links that are spam? I am so non-techy, and I can recognize it. I get such things from a friend and a relative very often, and I ignore them. They are mailbox viruses, and they will always be with us, much like the Salmonella bacterium.) The fact is, that this is the third instance of what I consider "attack" that I have dealt with recently and I am fucking sick of it. Just because someone does it through email does not make it any different to me than walking up to my front door and standing on my porch yelling at me. And when it is done through error and the person who is so QUICK to attack cannot find a way to apologize or explain, I am fucking furious. Today, I actually asked my husband to go through his SENT box to see if he had perhaps sent the offending email, and when he assured me it was not there nor in any of his mailboxes, I was, once again, reduced to tears over the matter. And, I don't do this shit. And anyone who knows me, should KNOW that. I do not think, if I am perhaps, but not likely, in a capricious mood, send or say truly nasty stuff to be cute or to hurt. (Google: hurt feelings). I may forward one of those eCards that frequently fall short of good taste. And, I remember, I did actually do that on this person's last birthday, so maybe this is payback. But I do not go all postal on someone dear to me unless they literally ask me to (by my definition). I DO go all postal on loved ones. Believe me. Or ask them.

But they earned it, let me assure you. And this particular person and I had discussions previously on how we should not discuss Snopes or politics or certain other subjects because of our philosophical differences. And that he implied I did it with deliberation? Can't get my head around it. Don't even want to.

I have enough real shit in my life to deal with. I don't need people to manufacture crises for me. Don't ever take it for granted that someone "knows" you. They don't. They probably don't even know themselves. They know someone that they think is you and it may have NO bearing on who you are. I am tired of being batted around and compelled to defend my self and my miserable little fiefdom. Unless there is a reason for it, like writing or saying naughty words for example. Carefully label all your stones before you throw them at me. Then at least I know why I am being hurt.

Yeah, I know. More mixed metaphor. Deal with it.

The Spectrum of Bitterness Part Four

2011-10-06T13:51:00.002-05:00

It is so much easier for me to write when I am ticked off. I am trying to be reasonable and tell my self there are only 26 letters for us to use, so when I read something that I think was my idea first, I have to think about the infinite number of monkeys with the infinite number of pianos that eventually play Bach.

Then I have to tell myself that maybe that person who wrote the scene lived through something similar to what I did and had the same sort of reaction to it. I can be really fair about that one because, although I have done and lived stuff other people have not, I am by and large just your ordinary Joe Shmoe. I am positive Joe Shmoe had some incredible high points in his life, some incredible situations that seemed troublesome and unsolvable at the time but were still the most enormously exciting parts of his life. He just didn't bother to write about it. And I hope that every Joe Shmoe has their "peak" to remember so they can have a little smile on their face when they are sitting in that rocker on that front porch.

I feel the need for a balance sheet, perhaps an incomplete balance sheet, but totally inspired by the passing of Steve Jobs which has definitely affected my ideas about life and death. He left an amazing legacy. That is all anyone can ask. And when you are 94, you are not doing much to amplify, beautify, or in anyway, enhance your legacy except maybe making people tired of hearing about it.

MARRIAGE
Average blog writer:
"I am married to the most wonderful man. We are still as deeply in love as the day we met, in fourth grade."
Me:
I've been married a really, really long time.

PARENTHOOD
Average blog writer.
"My amazing children are gifts from God and I adore them. I can't imagine life without them. My husband is such a caring and amazing father."
Me:
I should have had a hysterectomy when I was thirteen.

LIFE
Average blog writer:
"I dedicate each day to the Lord knowing that no matter how things work out, I am living in His name and I can survive with His guidance."
Me;
"Jesus, cut me a break will ya?"

LIVING
Average blog writer
"That which does not kill us will only make us stronger. God never gives us more than we can handle."
Me.
"You have to be in the right place at the right time. You have to play the hand you are dealt."

PETS
Average blog writer
"My dog/cats are like family to me. I am so grateful for them and they deserve to live the best life they can. Why just today Poopsie did the most adorable thing to the back of my couch."
Me
"I am going to end up in the hospital because of this fucking animal."

Ah, me. This is a beautiful warm, crisp Autumn day and the leaves are just starting to turn. My autumnal decorations on my entryway are gorgeous. The little speckle of golden glitter I placed on the leaves of the wreathes gracing my front doors is just perfect and catches the afternoon sun in the most attractive way. I am so glad I did that. Now I am going to lunch with two of my favorite people in the whole world, Fran and Ben. If I am lucky the adorable Delaney will be along. So fuck the whole world. I rock.

STOLEN WORDS

2011-10-04T17:57:00.000-05:00

I lifted the following quote from the blog of Tetman Callis who very graciously attributed it, I am assuming correctly. Now all I want to do is read about why they posited this and what are the statistics and the control group, and what were they searching for when they did the study and has it been proven and when does it apply. Certainly not to the written word which means it probably only is applicable or even useful if you are a lawyer arguing in court, or maybe President Obama.

"We hear communications experts telling us time and again about things like the ‘7-38-55 rule,’ first posited in 1971 by UCLA psychology professor Albert Mehrabian: 55 percent of what you convey when you speak comes from your body language, 38 percent from the tone of your voice, and a paltry 7 percent from the words you choose. Yet it’s that 7 percent that can and will be held against you in a court of law.” — Brian Christian, The Most Human Human

Life With Luigi. Vol.II

2011-10-01T21:45:00.001-05:00

We were out for a while this evening. This afternoon, before we left, Louie put one of those frozen pies in the oven and we couldn't leave until it was finished. That worked out fine. A few minutes ago, when we got home, we walked into the kitchen and I said, "It's really hot in here." So Louie walked over to the thermostat. I walked over to the oven. I said, "You left the oven on." I did not touch it because if I had touched it, he automatically becomes not the person who left it on. It is a rule. He walked over and witnessed for himself the readout that says it was 300 degrees and said, "Well, I tried, but how do you turn the *&%$#* off?" I showed him the button that says "OFF".

Don't you love the blonde joke where the girl asks what the 710 thing is under the hood?

In other news, Danielle has moved back home. She has been here about two weeks. She has stayed here maybe ten of those nights. The sewer backed up in the laundry room today.

And on an historical level, Mises(dot) org deleted my comments about Konrad Lorenz in the blog arguing about Intellectual Property.

So loving my multi-faceted life.

LINK

2011-09-30T14:13:00.000-05:00

This is not to everyone's taste but very funny. And LOUD.

Left Handed Compliments

2011-09-25T13:25:00.001-05:00

Sometimes it doesn't sink in right away, and if you get it right away, it is difficult to say "Thanks for the compliment." because, at the moment, you may not be sure that's what it is.

I walked into Lord and Taylor and there was this outfit on the mannequin, a bright emerald green silk jacket and a fuchsia silk shell and I bought it and I got lots of compliments. But one of them didn't sink in til much later. I wore it a lot and never took credit for figuring it out. Oprah says she buys what's on the mannequin, so I don't mind saying that. It's nice though when someone says it looks good on you. (You have to agree. ) But a year later I walk into a family event and a family member has on the outfit in slightly more subdued shades, and looks at me like "I'm glad you didn't wear that today, and, yeah, I got the idea from you." She looked really nice in her outfit and I took it as a compliment.

Then there are the quickies: In high school Mary Ann Perry asked me if I wore "falsies" (yeah, I'm that old) and I didn't. But I took it as a positive remark. I had a really great figure when I was younger and yeah, I worked it.

"Do you dye your hair?" No, I don't but if it looks like I spent money on it that's okay with me.

"Auntie Virginia doesn't look old enough to have a daughter as old as Lisa." Well, that one is complicated, but I think it falls on the credit side of my balance sheet. At work, my birthday, "How old are you?" "Thirty two." "Wow, you should wear a t-shirt that says 'I'm thirty two'. No one will believe it." Yeah, I worked out every day, and yeah, it was during my self-acknowledged peak years.

Ten year high school reunion: "I wish I'd known you were going to turn out like this," Okay. All these indicate I am extremely shallow and that is another thing that is a major component of my personality that I will never deny. But I think this one is the best:

SOMEONE read my book. It happens. Anyway, the person commented that my characters were amoral and what made it worse was that they were parents. (Jesus, save me. I wish I had such clear cut parameters in my own life.) Then it made my face feel all hot and embarrassed. But, shucks, the book is not about the Amish and the person knew that going in. Even wanted to know what pages the "good stuff" was on. But, of course, given my mind, this percolated for quite a while. And, maybe it is my tendency to try and turn a negative around, or maybe I have to rationalize criticism, but he finished the book. AND he invested in MY characters and JUDGED THEM. So I created characters. I am basically thrilled at this point. Well, feeling kind of warm and fuzzy about it, at the least. Anyway, I know they are not amoral, and I love them. I think I love them even more now.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005H3EW3Q

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005KN6S4E

No, seriously?

2011-09-20T21:55:00.000-05:00

I had to write a blurb for my second novel, you know, the one nobody reads? And I hit send and then I noticed I called the hero TIN. Please just take me out to the woods and shoot me. Just get it over with.

How can you do something like that to someone you love so much?

Interest

2011-09-15T17:29:00.000-05:00

This is from an amazing website called Pinterest.You will probably be seeing more of these as I am kind of a sucker for them. As you have already seen. . .

Self Image

2011-09-15T16:21:00.000-05:00

When I was sending out queries for my manuscripts, I felt terrified. I viewed every rejection as a personal insult. Strangely, the act of self-publishing does not hold such emotional weight. Despite the fact that many people have downloaded samples of my work, I have had very few sales. This is a very clear indicator that after reading 15% of my writing, they are not interested in reading anymore which pretty much says I am wasting my time. And theirs. And the few that have bought have not bothered to review, so I am basically dead in the water. Still, I plan to put up the next two. Some people say that more titles bring more interest, but so far that has not shown any effect in my case. I have cancelled the sale contract on the Mediterranean Villa, but will continue to write my little fantasy revisionist history stories. I think it's cheaper than a shrink, but my shrink was free.

It did bring in a new follower to my blog, but she has since thrown me off her blog roll, so far the only negative repercussion. If I had a tail, I promise you, I would post a photo of me walking off into the sunset with it between my legs. Still, I walk on.

AUTUMN

2011-09-11T23:31:00.000-05:00

It doesn't matter if I love the cool breezes and the colored leaves. I get depressed in the Fall. More depressed I should say. It shows up everywhere. My house is a mess. If I get a row of counters washed, I have to pat myself on the back because, the job itself is not hard--is pleasant--provides instant gratification, but I have to "work" up to it. To get myself to do it.

I am sick of this book promo thing and have two more to publish and I think one is not actually "done". I was having trouble remembering the main character's name the other day. I am just tired of it. I know the whole thing was because I was on that crappy Welbutrin, and the stuff I am on now is almost as bad as Paxil, that you totally do not give a shit about anything. So, maybe I was manic, and after I came back down, I realized I was writing stuff that was practically porn, and I went in and got all fucking sensible and took so much crap out, and now I realize, it doesn't matter. I opened a book in WalMart the other day cuz this one message board talks about Lora Leigh and I always envied that she did this whole book series about the Navy Seal, and I have trouble maintaining a character like that for more than a few lines in a couple of chapters, and I probably have way more experience with them than she ever will, but that is another story that I probably will never write cuz it is pathetically, fucking sad. But I opened the book, and the cover doesn't even say Explicit Content and the page I open it to is this guy telling this girl to blow him in a kind of authoritarian cruel, definitely not loving kind of way, and she is so all excited to chow down on this guy and it was just so blah, and what the heck ever happened to the blue oxford cloth shirt as a sex symbol? And she has a whole web site devoted to how badly edited her books are, and how many mistakes she makes, and she probably is rolling in money, her sales are astronomical, and the reason they are not edited very well is that the editors have just read about one blow job too many at this point, and I suddenly realize I should have spent my life writing dissertations on the parallels between the color spectrum and the depression spectrum, or maybe continue, much as they have done with the very successful Nancy Drew series, writing the Mary Poppins series and sort of segued her into the Space Age and through the Cold War and into the computer age. Mary Poppins and the Magic of HTML.

I get terrible attacks of give up-itis very frequently and have throughout my life, and I think it is because just getting through the day is such a huge enterprise for me that I should just not even bother with having something that is mine "to do" as my doctor puts it because it is minuscule and a total fucking waste of time. I need to spend more time figuring out how to feed my granddaughter the bottle with out falling asleep and having the bottle fall on the floor and the baby roll under the coffee table. No. You don't have to report me. That didn't happen. But the falling asleep and dropping the bottle part did.

I spend too much time questioning the worth of my existence and not enough time washing the dishes. And no, there are no dishes that need to be washed either, at the moment, which is why I am sitting here putting meaningless symbols on a plastic screen again. I was being figurative. My whole fucking life is figurative and when I understand what it is supposed to represent, it is all over.

Whoops.

2011-09-07T20:57:00.000-05:00

So, I was all set to do a huge rant on how you go on Amazon author boards and the grammar and spelling in their little self-promo posts is so awful. (Are those different things?) And how can you expect me to buy your book if it is going to be that full of errors and that carelessly done, and then I noticed that in this morning's blog I misspelled loyalty. So, pass the crow.

And FYI, if you see a typo, let me know. Smashwords I can correct it in a jif. Amazon not so easy, so if it is in the Amazon version, it might not get fixed. At least not right away. I am so obsessively focusing on this because certain other parts of my life that I probably could go right away and blab about cuz they probably cannot be bothered to read the blog of an inconsequential, invisible woman anyway, are just a huge suck fest. You try to be dynamic and move forward and look at each day expectantly, like maybe there will be a pleasant surprise in store and isn't this fall weather amazing, but there are some things that are unchangeable and so completely out of your control that sneak in and piss all over the place, and, seriously, I am not talking about my dog this time.

PROMO

2011-09-07T14:26:00.001-05:00

Just a reminder. My books are available at Amazon.com for Kindle and Kindle apps. And Sacred Sin is also now available at Smashwords. From my stats, I see that lots of you are stopping by to view my blog and I want to thank you all for your interest and your loyalty. I would also enjoy it very much if you left a comment of any kind. Thanks and happy reading!

Persevere you must.

2011-09-05T21:41:00.001-05:00

For my loyalest of followers and for those who sneak in here late at night when the kiddies are all asleep to see if I wrote a naughty word today, well I didn't. I am filled with sweetness and light because my dog did a terrible, spiteful thing to me and I used up my daily ration of naughty words on him. The day was cool and pleasant, and the windows were only opened a little, so they only sent one squad car this time. We're fine, just fine.

So as to make sure that you did not waste your trip here, as I am always so glad to see you, I am presenting the current incarnation of William Wallace. He is willing to undergo a DNA test to support this. I got Ben. I got Delaney. Who could ask for anything more? Oh, me, of course.

I haven't googled Dan Kearney lately. I wonder what he is up to. He is going to rule our country. Soon. Ben will help.

Getting to Me

2011-09-03T20:38:00.000-05:00

I swear! Honest to God!

Is this not the cutest thing ever?

What does it take to establish perspective? The life I have, the footprint I have left, the things that will happen tomorrow that are good, the things that happened yesterday and today that are good. (Not this frigging virus) And I let some stranger, probably some 52 year old virgin with greasy hair living in an apartment with two cats and a litter box that needs to be changed a week ago, get to me. Actually make that hot buzzing behind the forehead "symptom" of being in "trouble" happen to me. Actually give that poor disenfranchised person POWER to evoke a feeling in me? In ME? What the fuck is wrong with me?

I am so pissed. So very pissed. Almost pissed enough to make that hot buzzing stop. It is actually growing more faint as I continue to vent by causing electronically positioned symbols to appear on a plastic screen. Which is what I currently list WAY too high on the list of things that I consider to be my legacy.

Instead of that cute little critter on the boppy that contains my DNA. On a quilt that I made, by the way, in the house that belongs to my daughter which is a wonderful house, and a wonderful daughter that contains my DNA.

So fuck you musty lady. Blackball me. Smear my reputation all over Amazon with your chintzy greasy keyboard. You don't suck. You wish you had something to suck.

NICE ! ! and not so. . .

2011-09-02T12:27:00.000-05:00

I had my first UK sale. This is very pleasing news for me.

In other news, a blog I used to visit a lot, but only drop in on occasionally of late, went on and on today about a book the agency (whose blog it was that I was then gracing with my presence) LOVED and accepted joyfully and couldn't sell. The blog author, (you can't even say 'he' or 'she' anymore or some snarkiness will show up on their site about it) was dismayed. The agency "finally" sold this amazing story that was difficult to sell because it crossed genres. Yup. It was vampires, zombies, love, ghosts, paranormal stuff, probably a little Steam Punk and a Celtic God or two, along with an amazing character study of this person that was not able to fit into any of these sub categories of living beings in the unusual world in which she was trying to survive.

Remember when coming of age stories were about people you might sit next to in study hall? Like S. E. Hinton's Outsiders, That Was Then, This Is Now? I seriously wonder what all these books aimed at young adults are contributing to the person's character who happens to be reading them. Like that Twilight series. Hotcakesl Couldn't print them fast enough. T-shirts. Movies. And there is not one person who will argue the fact that Bella was a 'Mary Sue' (google) the absolute antithesis of what a young woman in this day and age needs to emulate in her adulthood. (This from a person who just published a book that discusses putting on a banana flavored condom with your mouth.) Maybe I am just bitter. Not so much anymore! I have already earned more money in my writing 'career' than a certain MFA I know. And we are talking mere weeks into it.

And even I throw in a Celtic God or two.

Tedium

2011-09-01T19:39:00.001-05:00

I got LAWMAN up on Kindle. I finished the Smashwords revisions for SACRED SIN. I learned how to remove a text box that you don't know you have until you learn what the coding looks like and go looking for it. I didn't put that stuff in there, man. Blame Word. I am getting pretty good at manipulating photos, and I suck at self promotion. I have investigated every angle any one has mentioned and none have brought results. Supposedly Smashwords Premium Catalog is a big deal. They say Apple sells more ebooks than all the other epubs put together. I totally do not see that. They don't even make a dedicated reader. Whatever. We will see. The thing is, I am getting so tired of this. I use any excuse to get away from it and the Maze and Anymore need a little work. Hopefully getting back to writing will seem like fun again.

It has to be word of mouth. It just has to be read by THAT right person, and I don't think she is interested. Well, I like my guys. And I will never be sorry about that part of it. And yeah, Bobby Joe, I did leave that one word out of the Smashwords version. You know which one I mean.

I'm going on the treadmill. I think I stopped the ipod at Crossfire, so after I listen to that about eight times I will be all inspired and ready to go.
Yeah. You can totally tell what is happening to me. My blogs are getting so boring

In the Mood

2011-08-31T22:44:00.000-05:00

Strange how things can work out so well if you are just in the mood for them. Maybe like sex. I don't remember. But this publishing thing? I can put a book on the site and actually sell them to people. Hey, I am pretty great. Then I notice one little thing I want to change, and I cannot even find the f-ing "Tool" bar in the word program. C'mon. How many times have I done this?

Sometimes my mind is like a whirlpool and the thoughts just keep swirling around and I am going deeper and deeper, but tonight my mind is a puddle of sludge on a hot day. I do not want to probe beyond the surface and, in actual fact, I don't want to be any where near it.

The only thing that bothers me about this is that, truly, I do not want people to see my mistakes. I know, I have seen typos in two page spread perfume ads in Vogue magazine, but damnit, I want my title page to be the best title page in the world. And I am apparently competing with an awful lot of freaking perfectionists, because I have satisfied everyone's requirements except fucking Apple. And they have said they sell more epub books than anyone. Where do the people that publish for Apple live? And where do all the people live that buy Apple epubs? I have never heard of one of them.

THRILL

2011-08-30T16:07:00.000-05:00

Well, you can think you are as cynical as would be possible. But the excitement of that touchdown Saturday was so amazing. They should study what that does in your bloodstream. I would buy some.

And then, today, after working on it for at least five hours, I got my Book up on Smashwords which is a gateway to every electronic reading device. Anywhere. I guess the reason I am so happy about it is that is was so much more work than the Kindle deal. Picky, picky, picky. It is still telling me I have things to fix, like text inside a table, and there are NO tables in this book. At least not the kind they mean. Anyway, it feels so good. Now for Lawmen. He is getting impatient. And that is not good.

Another Review.

2011-08-27T14:40:00.000-05:00

http://www.openbookreview.com/review-id106/

UPTICK

2011-08-27T14:27:00.000-05:00

Well, I took an extra half a Welbutrin, just in case, cuz I cannot stop crying. Actually, I am not really crying, Water just keeps dripping down my cheeks from my eyes.

So did Ben's team win? YEAH. Ben ran eighty six yards for a touchdown. No one can touch him when he runs. No one under the age of eleven at least. He owned the field. Then the other team, the whatchamacallits from somewhere, had the ball and BEN took him down. 20-something to ZERO. I may decide to live another day. I have to go now. I am tweeting with the Dallas Cowboys and I have to update them.

BUY THE DAMN BOOK. $2.99 FOR GOD"S SAKE. AND YOU WILL BE AMAZED HOW MUCH YOU ENJOY IT. That I solemnly promise.

REVIEW

2011-08-24T17:37:00.001-05:00

I am not getting too much action on the Amazon review thing, (only family has bothered) but received this in my gmail and had to share. I am so thrilled.

GLOWING REVIEW from Roy York, Las Vegas, Nevada

Thank you very much for sending me the .pdf copy of your book. After I received it, I intended to read a few lines to get the gist of it and then figure out exactly when I was going to read it, in addition to the two other books I am in at the present time. Then, one page led to another and I damn near didn't get the stuff out for dinner, but I did and that turned out OK. Then, the wife came home and we had a lot to talk about, her day at work, some things going on like the earthquake in DC which I didn't know jack shit about. Nor the one in Colorado, or the fact that Tripoli fell to the rebels. I was too damn busy enjoying myself with the book.

I got back to it later after dinner and finished it about 11:00PM. (My bedtime is normally 9:00, so think of that as a positive.) Here goes the review.

I will be promoting this to family and friends and have a little gathering coming up with one of them that told me they would get it. I will be interested in her take on the book.

I liked the book, but I'm an ending kind of guy and was a little bummed out that you didn't tie up a few loose ends, (which could have led to sequels

(THERE ARE TWO)

but I know nothing about bodice rippers, this is my first).

(SPOILER deleted)

At one point, and I loved this about your story, you had me guessing what was coming and I like that in a story, and interestingly enough, I was seldom right. A mark of a good author (in my opinion) is not giving too many hints as if their readers are dumb and you have to tell them in advance — (SPOILER DELETED):

I actually wrote down part of your dialogue when Jenny confronts Ethan with "That makes it OK? If everyone knows you're an asshole, and you admit you are an asshole, then it's therefore all right to be an asshole?" I loved that line and laughed out loud.

I liked your character development and could swear the sharp tongue of the redhead is someone I vaguely know. And, since I know a little about you, saw your writing reflect things with which you are familiar.

I think you are a master at dialogue, however, a couple of times I got confused as to who exactly was talking and had to go back and reread some to catch back up. I'm more of a "he said, she said" kind of author, but the literary jury is still out on that.

Conclusion: I will read more of your work, I will definitely promote your book to my friends and family, and hopefully, we will stay in touch, and see which of us gets to the New York Times Bestseller list before the other.

Congratulations and keep writing.

With great respect to a fellow author who, like I am, is doing something about getting our stories out there.

AGE

2011-08-22T17:43:00.000-05:00

Having a lonely aging parent is very difficult. I think it might weigh on my mind more than the runaway grandchild did. A little bit of commiseration or a few suggestions on how to deal with it would help. The interesting thing is that this is one of the issues with which we have dealt that my husband, no spring chicken himself, is the most helpful..

After many many years of marriage, I still do not know which way the wind will be blowing for the husband for any given day. Dealing with the brick wall has become second nature for me, but when I wake up the next day to cheerful chatty guy, I am actually sent rocking back on my heels. I will deal with my own mood swings, thanks, and am getting rather good at it. But when it comes to your mood swings, No Thank You, take them with you and don't let that door hit you in the ass on your way out, etc. Either that or I am gone. And I have lots of ways of doing that trick.

You wonder if there are time limits on these issues, and surely there must be, but even thinking that way invites a guilt trip. (For me, at least) And then there is the eleven and a half year old Cocker Spaniel, Henry, who is going through the same aging and senility and physical weakening issues in his old age.

I was in the shoe store with Fran today and Ben wanted a certain kind of slip on sport shower shoe and Fran and the clerk were looking for the right size and I walked around the corner and Fran said, "Where's the baby?" I said, "I don't know!" Of course she was right there in the stroller next to that huge scaffold high shelf reaching contraption and I had to walk her around the other end of the aisle to get to where Fran was, but for just that second I thought to myself, "Baby?" I seriously think I am just that close to overload.

And speaking of Ben, the light of my life, he plays offense and defense and, pretty much, when someone needs to be tackled, the rest of the team just stands around and watches Ben do it.

BEN, A FEW YEARS BACK, NOW THE ONLY HOPE OF THE GRAYSLAKE COLTS.

SPECIAL OFFER

2011-08-21T15:24:00.000-05:00

I am on the verge here, no pun intended. I know I just have to get the right person to read this book and I will be in like a burglar. I will email a free PDF of the book to the first five people that ask for it. (You can print out PDFs if you have enough paper!!) All you have to do is promise me you will spread the word and tell me who you will spread it to, as I know you will love it. Unless all you care about is vampires and zombies. Here is my email address in case you can't find it in profile. (I don't even know if it is there):

virginiallorca@gmail.com

(Be forewarned this is contemporary Romantic fiction with adult content. Please state that you are over 18. No, it is NOT erotica. Sorry. Or Porn. More sorry.)

When these promo sites start talking about enclosing a coupon, I can taste a little barf in the back of my throat.

Next book release this week I hope. Pending one more reread and finishing cover art.

Here is the link for the actual book, in case you want to buy it for your kindle or your phone:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005H3EW3Q

Crime

2011-08-18T16:55:00.000-05:00

I've been calling around getting prices for a replacement part for my car. (It's a headlight assembly and the prices average $350.00. So stupid. Only the plastic lens is broken. I want to use Shrinky Dink plastic but the husband says no.) A local GM dealer had a decent price and could get it tomorrow. So twice I tried calling there to say go ahead and order it and I am getting all furious (pay attention! I said 'furious') because no one answers. I let it ring about ten minutes each time. Imagine sitting in this agency listening to this phone ring and ring. Crazy making. A few minutes ago, my husband returned from a trip to the bank, which is right next door to this GM dealer. The streets around it are cordoned off by police. He hears on the radio on the way home that someone in the dealership was stabbed to death and they had the perp in custody. I hope it wasn't incessant ringing of a phone that set him off. But, if he stabbed someone to death, he must have been 'furious.'

Since we have lived in Lindenhurst, about eleven and a half years, there have been three murders, one body found, two suicides I know of, and eleven normal deaths just on my block. Thirteen years in Oak Park, I never heard of this. Oak Park is immediately adjacent to the West Side of Chicago. Lindenhurst is forty miles north near the Wisconsin border. So much for going to the boonies for safety.

Persistence (Eeyore)

2011-08-18T00:44:00.000-05:00

Emily Dickenson said something about Hope. It's the thing with wings or something? The book is sitting two yards away, so why don't I reach out, open it up and read it? Can't answer that. No. I can. I don't want to. I don't want to read Emily Dickenson right now.

What is the thing when you don't really have hope, you believe it is stupid to have hope, that hope is the only thing that keeps the human race going, that there is no point in having hope, that there is really nothing, at this moment, that I can say I hope for, that I believe everytime I have had hope, I have crashed in flames and really don't want to do it again--but still, I persist. Still, I get up every morning and I see light. I am looking forward to getting up tomorrow morning because the washing machine is fixed and a cool, dry front is supposed to come through. That I wish I could fall quickly to sleep so tomorrow would hurry up and be here and today was just so blah and uncomfortable that I just want it to be over. That people tell me stuff that is not true cuz they feel sorry for me. That they don't even think anymore about why they feel sorry for me cuz they are too busy living? That I feel I am tolerated, not appreciated. That sometimes I just don't care and I think stuff that could get me put in the hospital, and I don't want to go to the hospital. So I just persist. And it hardly even seems like living anymore. It's just persisting. And I do it cuz when I wake up, I still see that damn light. I read someone's blog today where they talked about someone they remember, someone that died, and the memories were so positive, so that person that died lived for a reason. And I am betting she never stopped and thought about what that reason was. She just did the best job of living her life that she could. And I ALWAYS feel like I am not doing that. ALWAYS.

I so want to think that I will leave something important behind. But why do I think that? There are some super excellent, wonderful humans walking this earth and breathing because of me. But instead of just accepting that that is a very good thing, I second guess my conclusion and start to think, 'What if they don't do anything good or important. It will all have been for naught.' For sure, I know, for sure, my mother NEVER gave a thought to what legacy she was leaving, its quality, its quantity, its value, why her children were the way they were, what input did she have on the outcome. Why does this so govern my mind? Waking up and seeing light should be enough. It's not. Not for me.

What would be enough?

BUSINESS

2011-08-17T12:05:00.000-05:00

My experience with Kindle went very well. There is only one format problem where I tried to insert a line from a poem. I will fix that when I am a little more sure of my niche. One commentor said add more tags and I did that and it went back to review. So that takes it out of availability for 24 hours.

I want to put it on Smashwords which supposedly exposes you to more sites. But their instructions are long. I think I understand them but have to pick a time when my hands are not shaking because of six other things going on, like trying to get the storm damage fixed, the cars fixed, the couch out of the basement, the microwave hung up, the dog groomed, etc.

The feedback I've gotten is so positive that I feel I can make something of this if I follow the hints of the other self-publishers.

Anyone who has anything to say about Smashwords, please comment here.

DONE and DONE

2011-08-13T15:32:00.000-05:00

It's up. Now I feel there are about a hundred things I should take out. One in particular.

Qualifications

2011-08-12T22:49:00.001-05:00

When I decided I was tired of dating, and wanted to get married, it was my choice. I had a set of criteria. I could have enumerated them to the candidates, but it would not have made any difference to them. These requirements were only important to me. The only requirement they had was to get the redhead in the sack at regular intervals, and if you tell me otherwise, you are a fucking liar and need to get in touch with your "Inner" self, part of that is found in your brain, and part of that is found in your heart. The sex thing is your "external' self. And we all know where you can find that.

Criteria:
intelligent enough to talk to.
sexy,
good-looking,
tall,
good in the sack,
considerate lover, this does not transfer into real life. It is a very immediate choice they make in a given moment.
Would be good father material.
Had an education so he could make a good living. This does not transfer into real life. The y chromosome and ego-based power struggles, about dominance, confidence, can screw this one up big time.

My husband filled evey requirement very well, but as he aged and the marriage began to pall, he fell into the second part of the last requirement. I was very shallow and love did not enter into it for me. Three times I offered to let him go free and find his perfect wife. He didn't want to. I told myself I did love him, but sometimes my husband would say something about me loving him that left me thinking, where did he get that idea?

Kinda sad. Did some sampling, and there is no perfect guy. So I make them up. That is the greatest fun.

HATCHING

2011-08-11T20:47:00.000-05:00

Never count your chickens before they're hatched. How many times have you heard that? How many times has the truth behind it come up and smacked you on the gourd?

DIGITS

2011-08-08T23:50:00.000-05:00

I guess I had a bad day, although I was not aware of it at the time. It rained off and on, and I don't mind the rain. It means I don't have to go out and water all my flowers which I really don't mind doing, but I always get mosquito bit even if I carefully spray that very expensive and nasty Off on. Or spray on Off. But I've just been surfing and procrastinating and I noticed I feel confessorial. Is that a thing?

I actually still feel a little ill from that sun issue, and I am quite angry with Mother Nature over that, but I realize I have dealt unfairly with her and she owes me a few. So I have to get better physically and get over my blame thing. Nothing can be done about it now. It happened. It's over.

I need to admit that I want to and try to disregard peoples feellings. I think that is justified, but I am not in an excuse making mood. The truth is, if I am pissed off at you, you can go fuck yourself, and I usually want to tell you that immediately, and I usually do, and I seldom feel regret for it and I generally think, before and after the fact or the incident, that you deserve it. And, upon later rumination, if I feel I was impetuous in my judgement, I have no problem apologizing. I frequently will add why I think it happened, not as an excuse, but actually, believe this or not as you choose, as an explanation so you will understand and find it easier to forgive. This is rare. That I actually find you undeserving of my wrath and feel you deserve my apologies or that I would expect your forgiveness. Often I will offer a most sincere sounding apology for something I said or did, not because I am truly sorry I did it, but because I feel bad about hurting your "feelings" which I so expertly run rough shod over. This is so direct a result of a glaring fact in my upbringing that it doesn't need any more explanation than does the fact that I have red hair. Hurting "feelings", even those of an unloved pet, or a disliked person, is not something I would ever choose to do. If I just shot you and got rid of the misery you were causing me, at least then, while I languish in my cell, I will not have the pain of thinking about you walking around with hurt feelings. You won't be feeling anything.

I find that when I write fiction, those passages when I deal with people who are more than fond of each other having painful issues dealing with one another, I go on and on with dialogue, having these two imaginary creatures waltz all around the actual issues, trying to say what they think and feel and get to the point where they want you to understand why they are telling you to go fuck yourself but not hurting your feelings or making you feel unloved. What is that all about? I am so quick to fly off the handle. You don't see it as much as you did when I was 29 cuz I can put up the facade and say the no nevermind words, but in my mind, the bullet has gone out the back of your head and taken 92% of your brain with it. And I will clean up the mess it left on the wall and the floor with no reluctance. I am VERY good at cleaning up messes.

In my books I think it is cuz she still wants to have sex with the guy and doesn't want to admit to herself that he is an asshole cuz he is a good lay. But that for sure does not transfer to my real life. I guess maybe I wish it did, or it had. Then.

Bad Stuff

2011-08-06T23:34:00.000-05:00

I was mad at my grandughter cuz she said she'd mow yesterday and didn't, and back by the creek was getting pretty reedy, So I went out to mow. She is coming upstairs and mad cuz I was mowing cuz we pay her for it, and she looked at this as revenue loss. "I TOLD you I would mow today." "You also told me you would mow yesterday. And enroll in college and get a job." Can't bite the damn tongue.

Back by the creek was too dense and damp and the machine couldn't handle it. I am thinking of maybe a scythe. So the machine craps out and I try to start it, and a little puff of smoke comes out. I used this as an opportunity to come in and cool off. I woke at nine-ish today so I thought I was getting a great early start, but by now it is past noon. So Louie starts the machine and I go back out mowing and, after about an hour, I got so sick. I thought I was going to barf. I am stumbling up the stairs saying, "Help me. Help me." And he wants to know how and I am gasping "Water, cloth. Help me." I was actually moaning. I felt so bad from head to toe inside and out. After a few hours I felt better and hungry. He said I had all the symptoms of heat stroke. This is the worst part of getting old. No matter how much you want to do something, after a certain point you just can't. Get your mind out of the gutter.

I've always been able to push on that little bit further, find that extra kernal of strength or power to get me to the finish line, but I am really disappointed that it just wasn't there today.

But I can always focus on stuff I still can do. Mowing sucks.

Followers

2011-08-05T23:24:00.000-05:00

To the new "followers", thank you. I can't figure out how to say it individually, but I appreciate it and would love to read your comments and see your blogs.

BRAVERY

2011-08-04T23:56:00.000-05:00

I did something today that I thought was extremely brave. I let my daughter read my book. She read part of it and we were in a hurry and had to leave. In the car I tried to tell her what was going to happen next in the book and she said not to tell her cuz she wanted to read it to find out. I actually do not think she was trying to spare my feelings with her other remarks. She asked a lot of questions and I really have the feeling now that it is what it is, what it's supposed to be, what I want it to be. And the words printed on the paper, figuratively, are not the same as the words that come out of my mouth. Strange strange feeling, but exactly what I want, I think. I think. I think.

But, more than that, I am patting myself on the back for my bravery. Really, it is easier to put the work in front of a stranger than in front of someone who knows you so well. But it wasn't really brave at all. It was absolutely an impulse that I acted on with great immediacy. And that is like the story of my life. There is so much stuff in my life that makes me unhappy, and I know I am contributing to the unhappiness of some other people, but I totally feel that part is their problem and there is so much stuff in my life that I like. I have to think about what I want for a change. After all, so many years of trying to get along with others and not rocking "the boat" has served for nothing. Granted, I have beautiful surroundings, and not much to complain about, but it could have been so much better for so many people in so many ways, and my way of trying to fix everything and make sure no one got hurt served for nothing. Nothing. Everything I feel, right at this moment, is ONLY because of ME.

As I am sure is true of most others, I wish I had not waited so long to do this. But, then I am able to say that it just happened. It wasn't planned and I don't know where it came from, and I tend to think it was the meds cuz now it seems like it is gone, but I am already rethinking that part of it, and, for so many reasons, I have to say, that is just the way it is. And I think I am glad. Anyway, I feel glad right now. But my biggest flaw is always second guessing myself.

Change the freaking chapter numbers, Ditty.

OYSTERS

2011-08-03T20:52:00.000-05:00

The folks down the block were having a garage sale and I walked by and had a little look at the goods on display. He, God bless his efforts and keep him safe, is some kind of Missionary that goes and lives in Israel and Africa and stuff, and, unfortunately, comes off to me as a kind of arrogant intellectual snob. Anyway. . .

One of his daughters was helping out and I was chatting with her and said something about how many redheads, which both she and I were gloriously blessed examples of, lived in our subdivision, and how I thought it was a little strange, and he commented that he never noticed. Fuck that, right? Who doesn't notice redheads? And his daughter was on the verge of being extraordinarily beautiful and I said, "The world is her oyster." And he said, "What does that mean?" Probably that phrase doesn't appear in the Bible.

Anyway, she is older, more lithe, and the father figure has been replaced, hopefully by someone whose reading tastes are a little bit less esoteric. So I was fiddling around with the photo file today, nervous wreck that I am. and I was taken aback by this photo.

That lithe and gorgeous girl in the blue dress is not the neighbor. It is/was me. So here is the deal. The world was my oyster and, you know how they say wisdom comes with age? I wish to hell someone had said those words to me.

YIKES

2011-08-03T00:11:00.000-05:00

I just read the most depressing blog I have ever seen. It was called Kuwait is the New Black, and the guy that wrote it--wow. I have read blogs where the child is ill and then they post the announcement about the funeral service, and you're crying, or the mom was sick and passed. And, shit, when you read this guy's blog, please DON'T, I don't want him to have the traffic, you will think anyone who passed from this life, sorrow for those they left behind, but no one wants to share the planet with this dude. Ugly soul, taking up space. Why? Why is life so unfuckingfair so often?

Isaac Asimov (I think it was him) or Arthur C. Clark, maybe, wrote this story about how God ran out of souls cuz there was a finite number and He didn't count on people hanging around so long, so people were starting to be born without a soul. Y'know, when He started the human project, life expectancy was 33 years. And, to quote myself, who better than God knows how imperfect someone can be. So maybe this dude, I know he is not living in MY country, and the title makes me suspect stuff, but I didn't explore too much, but maybe this dude was hiding behind the barn when the souls were being handed out. Or maybe God ran out.

Anyway, I shouldn't even be venting about this, but I am kinda wound up and was before I saw his fucking hideous blog.

We went to see Super 8 tonight. I thought it was great. Tons of subtext.

(Now that I think of it, someone was published that wrote about a woman with no soul and how she was the only one who got the goods on the vampire. No, I didn't read it, and won't.)

STATS

2011-08-01T22:45:00.000-05:00

I admit I am a little obsessed with my stats. I probably don't need to explain that it is an ego thing. I have been feeling kind of bad lately that I am within a few minutes of launching my book and my stats have been in the gutter. And I have had some editing problems, like the mysterious dotted lines that when you try to get rid of them, they reproduce like bacteria. I am actually kind of afraid to open the MS cuz once I did and it had a bunch of red paragraphs, and I always look at that stuff like a sign from God. Although He has already mentioned that He likes the book and is glad I spelled His name right, and, no, He will not sue for royalties, I am free to quote Him as I see fit. And I am so thrilled with my cover art. I get scared that I am fooling myself about this whole thing, but then I have to reassure myself that I have good instincts and have always had to chastise myself when I let someone talk me out of following them. So I am going to give it a go anyway. Yeah, don't hold your breath just now. Or sneeze.

But today? The google stat thing is unreliable. I have read about how they have all these different sources and it can be confusing, and last month was not too great. And I am kind of ticked about fucking FaceBook. It is like nobody pays any attention to me on it. I kind of wish they had a FaceBook hissy page. But my blog stats said I had seventeen hits yesterday, and I think that is one of my all time highs. I wonder why they don't comment. I comment on all kinds of blogs. Who cares if they have no clue who I am.

And there was no particular reason for it which makes it feel better. I have been feeling bad that I have not been connecting with some of my favorites that usually provide good return, but apparently some of them remember me anyway. So, I am ready. Just need to work on some chapter numbers, and I have kind of a weird idea about titles, and, lately I have been saying about stuff like Louie driving after his first vicodin hit, it is in the hands of God, so I am not going to worry about the red paragraphs, and God is actually kind of excited about His little chapter in the book. He wants people to sit up and notice Him too.

And, no, No, NO, it is NOT a Christian book. It is kind of what you might have to call "Adult".

Ambiguosity

2011-07-28T15:42:00.000-05:00

Talk about mixed feelings. . .

I just picked up a bottle with 270 xanax in it at the pharmacy.

The Need for Sarcasm

2011-07-27T14:24:00.000-05:00

I feel wrung out. This has been too crowded a week and it's only Wednesday. I am pretty good at coping, but this week I wanted to throw in that towel so many times and just say, "Fuck it." And lots of the stuff I had to deal with turned out really well. Well, there was that one customer service wait with the staticky Muzak. But I think the thing that is missing is the bouts of laughter that bring tears to my eyes. Apparently the tears have to go out anyway, (damn that Amygdala) so they were brought on by trips through the bank drive up instead of the strange and funny things that usually happen that we make stranger and funnier.

My daughter has a friend staying with her, and I guess that is making me a little lonely. But it would sure be nice if there was someone else in my life that I could converse with until we were laughing so hard we couldn't breathe. But the subject of friendship has been permanently shelved as far as I am concerned. And the books I am reading are kind of formulaic, predictable, and dark. My choices. Not good ones. Then last night I am proofing and editing the "Big Deal" and the sad parts were making cry, again, and the technical mistakes I was finding were way too common. I couldn't believe it after all this time. And then one of those stupid dotted lines showed up. That just about drove me off the edge. At least nothing turned red. The sooner I launch that boat, the better. If it sinks, oh well, I tried. And tried. And tried.

I know all these feelings are aspects of my personality that I have had to deal with all my life, and part of it is my choices and part of it, as an actual physician said to me very recently, is my "neuro-biology". I wonder if it could be the weather that is making it all so much harder to deal with. I am so used to being the way I am that I actually like me and prefer being this way. I think the "devil may care" attitude toward life has to be an elaborate costume drama for anyone trying to live it. No. I KNOW that. It just gets to me every now and then and I can be in the line in WalMart and feeling a little creeped out cuz everyone looks ugly and scary and I can be in the line in WalMart and chatting with strangers and smiling at babies that smiled at me first. And I know it is me. Not the people in the line at WalMart. For God's sake. For one who feels and enjoys being as insular as I am, man, I sure let the outside world get to me way too much.

I am incapable of any sarcastic rejoinders, my stock in trade, my stress release mechanism of choice. Oh, well. It will come back to me. It always does. Right?

WISDOM

2011-07-22T13:41:00.002-05:00

So many people in this world are unsung geniuses, artists, philosophers--so filled to overflowing with wisdom that will never be shared with the rest of the world. We should all do what we can to ensure the legacies of such richly endowed humans endure.

Friendship

2011-07-18T20:03:00.000-05:00

My younger daughter has many friends. My older daughter has friends that have been her friends for many, many years. My younger daughter had a break with a friend that was very serious. The person felt betrayed and came back and said, "Well, I am still mad about it, but I have to put it behind me cuz I still want to be your friend." I would say she and her friends love each other. I wonder where they learned to have friends and be a friend. Not from me.

I had a friend for many years. One. I have many casual acquaintances and waaaay too many relatives, and I am the kind of person that ends up giving the person in line at KMart a hug when we finally say good bye after our eleven minute life changing conversation. I am also the kind of person that the Mexican handy man on the estate where I worked offered to marry one day when I was complaining about my spouse. And I have always been able to make friends with people that I work with. They have attempted to keep those friendships, and "friendships" going when we no longer worked together and seeing one another became less convenient. But it was always me that dropped the ball, or let the air out of it.

The one friendship that persisted did so not because of my efforts. I am phone phobic and I love to read, and would never bother to call someone just to catch up or make a date. I just don't want to. Part of it is time related, part of it, the biggest part of it, is definitely psychological. But the friend persisted in keeping in touch. Now we have parted. She has denied saying things that I have in print (electronically) and she has accused my husband and me of doing things we did not do. (Also backed up with the printed words she twisted) She claimed that some years back she decided to steer away from certain topics cuz she thought I was going a little wacko. Well, shit fire. Everyone knows I am a little wacko. And the stuff that I have heard from her over the years indicating she is not going a little wacko but has crossed the line into the land of the strangely unbalanced, well, why even bother? Today I received a letter from her that is so far beyond the pale (whatever the fuck that means) that my mind is spinning and burning and I am venting on this blog to keep myself from taking her letter and annotating each and every bizarre accusation she makes. I am asking myself, and everyone around me, and they are getting damn sick of it, why did I ever bother? What did I ever get out of it? I would get so nervous about meeting her for lunch, I would have to take a Lunesta (maybe two) the night before or else I would toss and turn in a frenzy of anxiety.

I have rewritten my life in fictional works, three or four times. I cannot actually rewrite my life, and when I consider the bad things that happened, the terrible tragedies that I wish I did not have to live through, the difficulties and mental obstacles and horrible decisions I have had to make, honestly, I look back and think that is just the way it was. That is why I am here now and things are this way. And I honestly don't think I would change it. Well, maybe I would have married that med student, but I think he had a drinking problem.

But this friendship thing? I twice have moved from towns and left no forwarding address because I did not want some one who wanted to be my fucking friend ( and I don't literally mean fucking. That's a whole other issue. And a way easier one to deal with.) to find me. And, honest to God, one of them tracked me down. What is wrong with me, except that my DNA proves my ancestors are from another galaxy, that makes me think friendship is such a HUGE pain in the ass? I invite your input. You may feel free to post anonymously and thereby relieve me from having to do anything, besides accepting gratefully, that might be construed as friendly. But I am courteous, trustworthy, appreciative, kind, generous, unselfish, highly accountable, extremely responsible, fun, witty, (acerbically), literate, intelligent, attractive in an aging sort of way, just unfuckingfriendly. And that wacko thing.

The World's Most Amazing Baseball Game

2011-07-17T19:39:00.000-05:00

In the league my grandson plays in, you have to lose two games to be out of the playoffs. Ben's team, the Phillies, lost to the Cardinals, who are a pretty sucky team. Ben's team was leader going into the playoff's 16 wins two losses. Cardinals had two wins. They beat us in the playoff game and the kids were so downtrodden. It was awful. And one of the coaches, who just happens to be a beautiful policeman who, when he shows up in his uniform, distracts me from the game, says to one of the kids, who was commenting on the Cardinals poor sportsmanship in light of their win, "Let them have their moment, they've only won three and you've only lost three." And a Cardinal mom yells, "Yeah, but we beat you." So another coach gets in her face and politely tells her to shut the fuck up, but not in those words, only with that intent. So the next day we kick Cardinal ass. Of course. So we play the Giants who are no losses in the playoffs and kick their butts big time, like 17 to two, the Giants first play off loss. So we have to play them again today. This league plays six innings. We go into the bottom of the sixth down by six and win. When it was tied Ben scored the tie breaker run. OMG. Then we went over and ate Bubbas and drank MGD and swam in their beautiful pool. What a wonderful day.

Irony of all ironies, ironically

2011-07-16T23:28:00.000-05:00

I bragged about how nice my house looked recently in the very same blog where I spoke extensively on the pruning of a rather unattractive tree on my property. What is that line about from your lips to God's ears? C'mon, God. I actually backed down in the very blog and capitalized your name. Seriously. Talk about overkill.

View of the Zoo

2011-07-11T01:06:00.000-05:00

We went to the drive in theater in Kenosha. The screen looked like it would fall down in a strong wind, but it survived a very strong wind last week, the evidence from which was piled in almost every driveway and all along the surrounding roads. Golly gee. They had to search our car because twice that week, people had tried to sneak in. The revenue loss was sixteen dollars and we had spent the afternoon packing the car with odds and ends from Valley, so it really was not worth his time.

Ben wanted to see the Zookeeper movie, with Kevin James who is adorable. I believe that to be the actual title of the movie. Part of the time Ben and Cassie sat on the roof. Then they sat in the car and there was not a breath of air, so we had to turn on the car and the air conditioning.

90% of the people we saw there were the same shape. The women wore maybe size twelve pants, maybe 14, maybe ten and size 44 tops. I wondered aloud if the clothing stores in Kenosha catered to that specific type of blouse. I am being mean and petty, but really, what are the odds? And Ben was being a little loud and colorful previous to the start of the movie and the very nice looking woman with tops and bottoms that looked like God didn't make a mistake, and her very nicely comported young men, one of which, to my chagrin, was a darling redhead, actually moved her car away and was heard explaining to her sons that she did not want to spend the entire movie parked next to those rowdies (us). Actually the loudest noise we made was me pounding the steering wheel with tears running down my face with laughter, and, at this moment, I do not recall if it was something in the movie or something from my carfull that was making me laugh. I was laughing so hard on the way up, wondering where this road we didn't belong on was going to take us, oh, lo and behold, it is the street we are supposed to be on, through luck alone, that I was afraid I would run off the road. We laugh so hard and we just go on with this schtick about ending up on the Amstutz on the fourth of July and what was going to pop up from that huge cavern in the neutral ground. I don't know. It is what keeps me going. This has been the craziest week, with house guests that I think were here and someone breaking into Fran's Valley House, that she is trying to vacate, and the new person, that we do not know where the time went, and the movie was funny, hysterically, in some parts, and stupid in others, but we laughed for what ever reason and we found our way home, and the tiny baby slept like an angel. I have heard babies will do that when they are over stimulated, just zonk out, when the car is full of warm, crazy people that think they are funnier than the movie, and really are. And, oh I spilled something, oh, it smells good, oh, it's carpet cleaner, and stop spitting those Mike and Ikes out the window. I complain, and I whine, and I am miserable and unhappy and bitter and short tempered, and insincere and more than a little crazy. But I have such fun with these goofy guys. I would not want to be with anyone else. I am sure.

You wouldn't either.

Conspiracy Theory

2011-07-09T00:44:00.000-05:00

Mel Gibson was right in that movie where he was trying to convince Julia Roberts. I must watch it again as I do not recall what he felt he discovered and why no one would believe him. I actually do not recall the name of the movie. And then there was that phrase, "Just because you are paranoid does not mean you are not being followed."

I am paranoid. Someone said it about me and I took humbrage. But I am. I read some little phrase here or there and I will think, "Stolen". Like no one else read that same article or had that same thought. And then I think, "It is a plot. They are conspiring with each other to do it." Seriously. Like why would they bother? I am unimportant. Perhaps believing these things or suspecting these things validates my importance or my mistaken sense of importance to myself.

And I am doing that thing, analyzing and second guessing when I have that book laying there that I am really enjoying reading, so why don't I? And those bottles and bottles of helpful little pills. And people make me so nervous. Five in the room and I cannot stand the smells or the noise or the movement. And I just sit there, trying to cope with my feelings and my distress and I want to scream or sob or disappear, and a few years ago I would have screamed or wept or run out of the room, but now I try to cope. And I know I am not coping. I am pretending. My words are fake. My voice is false. Copy me. I laugh at you.

Why do some days I feel capable and interested and engaged and other days I see everything in horrid shades of green and I am scared and I know, I just know, it will never be all right. (?)