Sampling Pinterest

You really should give Pinterest a look.  There is something for every one, and it is a great way to waste time when you are only interested in procrastination.

Speakng for myself, my boards are among the greatest.

Warning

I did not "partner" with a sex blog.  Anyone knows how to get that referral off here, please let me know.

All I have heard is ignore it and it goes away.

Chapter Twenty three---from The Maze

I guess you are supposed to give a little teaser, like chapter one,  to get people interested, but I like this part and I think you will too. Maybe a spoiler or two, but that doesn't stop anyone from rereading the Bible, does it?  More whirlpool sentences I'm afraid.  Just ride 'em. It's worth it.

Chapter Twenty Three

It took almost two more days for Barney to land at Heathrow.  He hired a car to take him to the manor.  Another 140 miles from the airport, a fortune he’s spending here, like that’s important he reminded himself, mostly sleeping, while the cabbie or driver or whatever they called them over here, popped Bennies, driving in the pitch dark night over semi-paved roads, dodging random sheep who left the flock to drop a lamb or two.  

The driver so wanted to toss one of those cute little lambs in the taxi, but the American was so huge the lamb would have to ride on his lap, and were the American to waken, cradling a sleeping lamb or be awakened by warm lamb piss drenching his trews, God knows.  They packed guns he was sure.  And at last, 5 a.m., there was the Manor.  Beautiful area.  Beautiful Building.  17th Century, at least that part at the South end, one of Charles’s pet projects with my tax dollars surely.  Crumbling heap.  So much history.  Too many bennies, he hoped they’d give him a snack and a nap before he had to head back.  Several out buildings.  Surely some kind soul would have sympathy.  They ran out of gas about 200 yards from the front door.  The American jumped out and ran to the house as though his pants were on fire or he’d suddenly come down with the trots.  It took a while to raise a response at this early hour, so the cabbie left the American’s bag at the door with him, accepted the huge fare, the generous tip, the sincere thanks, and made his way around back to rustle up a charitable soul.

***

Ancient Ian, an almost comically stereotypical example of the old family retainer, his duties now running only to answering the door, perhaps a short time each day mucking the stalls, perhaps taking a ride about on one of the horses, doing a little inspecting, exercising the animals a bit, trying to be more helpful than burdensome since he knew his presence here was a boon granted a faithful soul whose only scrap of life seemed within these walls.  Sons in Canada and New Zealand, seen a few years ago.  Videos, emails, an occasional voice call, children he knew were his legacy, so beautiful, so far away, a warm corner of his weakening heart, his breath drawn each morning in hopes of getting asked to sit down and share her ladyship’s lonely cup of tea when the place wasn’t aswarm with grands and greats and steps, a vivid montage he enjoyed immensely, but felt only relief at their departure, welcoming silence, never lonely, always a welcoming snuffle from a horse, a grunt from an aching new mother cow, whispers from the memories of the lives that had touched him, a kind word from a delivery person or a housekeeper, silence shared in the sun for too brief a moment with her ladyship who insisted, the only time her lyrical voice was tinged with stridence, insisted on being called “The Missus”.  Now, answering the door at this early hour, he said, having been briefed, “I am so sorry, Commander, sir.  I cannot talk of it with you.”

“Ian, please tell her ladyship I must speak with her.  I’ve come so far.  Please, Ian.”

“It’s alright, Ian.  You can leave us.  I’ll handle it.  Thank you.” Louise entered the huge entry hall.  She seemed tinier than ever but still had the shiny round, rosy cheeks, the generous halo of the whitest, softest hair.  The eyes, gimlet sharp, snapped to Barney’s.

“So sorry, missus.  I gave it all my best, ma’am.”

“It’s alright, Ian.  He’s bigger than both of us”, suppressing a chuckle underlying her words.

“By a long shot, ma’am.  Ring me if you need me.”

“Oh, yes, Ian.  Don’t wander far.”

“I never do, ma’am.”

“Commander.”

“So wonderful to see you looking so well, Mrs.  Burnham, your ladyship.” He stepped forward invading her space, leaning slightly toward her, looking directly into her face, her eyes, leaving himself open for what he hoped would be at least a patronizing hug if not a snuggle of welcome.  She placed her delicate hands in the crooks of his arms, and leaned into him and up onto her toes to barely reach the side of his bristly chin for a slightly warmer peck than he had hoped for.

“Cut the crap, Barney.  You know, I am now officially your grandmother-in-law.  And I’ve been politely asked by certain people with very good reasons to respect their privacy and give you no information."

Three small children who had been peeking through the gallery rail came bounding down the stairs in pajamas and bare feet, the oldest, surely not yet six, a tiny bit on the charmingly plump side, with a corona of perfectly rust colored, soft ringlets, much like his Annie’s, (my fucking heart hurts) that bounced as she sped down the stairs, indicating they were undoubtedly Katelyn’s youngest, or at least the cherubic little ginger was.  “Uncle Barney!” They scaled him as though he were a climbing wall.  “Aunty Maisie was here but she’s already left.  We rode out far to the lavender field with her.  Lulu is scared of horses.  She’s a baby.  She has white hair like the twins, only longer.  The lavender field smelled so nice.  The horses didn’t like it.  I got a new helmet.  It has a pink skull on it.  It’s not scary.  I wanted to go to Italy with Annie and Lulu.  I don’t like Joey.  He pees outside.  He doesn’t care if I see his winkie.  Are you going to ride out with us?”

“Lord, lord, Sheila.  Draw a breath and go get your slippers.”

“Yes, grandmum.” And with a faint movement reminiscent of a curtsey, they dashed upstairs and were dragged behind a quickly closing door, but not before Katelyn threw Barney a quick wave and a vaguely flirtatious, certainly welcoming grin.

“Well, every single cat got out of that bag, didn’t it though.  So you must stay at least one night so our dear girl can have a break, since you will surely be heading to Italy.  She’s not going anywhere, and you can pause in your pursuit to rest up and hear all of our lectures.  Go up to the guest suite to the right at the head of the stairs and shower and rest.  We will call you for supper.”

As he walked up the stairs, he tried to recall if he had so much as spoken a hello, but lay on the bed thinking he could take the shower after the nap.

****

The first weeks in Italy were so hectic, arranging school, serendipitously able to start the next term right on time, rearranging beds and dressers and rugs and curtains to befit the needs of yet another generation filing through the villa.  Iris was still perky, though much heavier.  She had lost her husband, Paolo, to a heart ailment.  But, barely fifty herself, and always in control of everyone's life,  she had rounded up a crew of craftsmen including some of her sons and sons-in-law and at least one slightly older foreman that Maisie was sure was courting Iris.

The first day the children were in school, and when Lulu could be supervised by Iris’ daughter, or daughter-in-law, or granddaughter, no, it couldn’t be a granddaughter, but she’d figure it all out in due time, Maisie headed to the doctor’s office.  She’d been spotting for a few days, and was having mild cramps.  Now she was having heavier bleeding and the nausea had stopped as had the change in her sense of smell that made any cooking odors nauseating.  She was sure, so early in a pregnancy, she had already missed, which was confirmed by the doctor.  A quick curettage, orders about sex—Maisie assured him that would not be an issue.  Having made the rounds of the tabloids, that story was well known to the doctor and he didn’t wish to query her more, just sent her home with an armload of scrips, including an anti-depressant.  The vital glow those first few days, so enhanced by the body’s own chemicals, had faded, and Maisie was looking beaten down and acting nearly affectless, going through the necessary steps woodenly, hoping to come out of this funk and soon be wanting to live her beautiful life again--a beautiful life she longed for and hoped for but that she was completely sure was in her past and would never be a part of her future.

***

It didn’t seem that long a time had passed when  Louise called to say the Commander had finally arrived.  When Maisie asked her, chuckling, “Finally arrived?"  Louise could not help but laugh.  “You’ll be fine, my darlings.  I’ll try to keep him a few days.  He promised the little ones a ride out, and, thank you God, it has been pouring, so you have a breather.”

“I miscarried, Grandma.  You didn’t say anything did you?”

“No darling.  You know I wouldn’t.  What can I say?  My heart is breaking for you for so many reasons.  Maybe it’s for the best.  A new start.”

“I keep saying that, grannie.  It’s all I can say or think.  I’m scared.  I’m afraid to see him.  I feel weak about it.”

“That’s good, baby.  You don’t know it, but that is from the need.  I can only say, let it be new.  That’s all I can think of to say.  I don’t know this time.  I’m scared for you.  But I think you should let it be new.  And I know there is enough love.”

“I love you so much Gran.  You are the wisest of any of us.  None of us would have survived without you.  Thank you.”

“Well, Margaret Mary, isn’t that only fitting since none of you would be here were it not for me?”  So the phone call ended with them both smiling out loud.

Maisie set the phone down thinking there were reasons.  There were.  And she was ready to wait and see what they were.

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

http://www.smashwords.com/view/158247

REUNION

I am posting this gem just so I can tag it.

New Lawman Blurb

Why is this not yet on Amazon's page?  Annoying.

If you lost your husband in the line of duty, would you take a chance on another lawman?  Maybe it is what you are used to.  Maybe you think it is not worth the trouble to get involved just to end up alone, no matter how much you love each other.

Lily falls in love, but won’t commit to someone in a dangerous job, someone who puts his duty to his country before his family.  Forget what Shakespeare says about honor.   Go defend your nation, but leave me out of it.

How would you choose?  Would it be worth your while to have those few precious moments of happiness?  Tim is not going to wait for her to decide.  He is always in command.

Could you stand up to him?

Lawman by Virginia Llorca is a fast-paced racy modern love story that will keep you wondering whose side you are on. Lily will certainly try your patience.

 It is available for electronic readers at Amazon, free to borrow with no due dates at any time.

http:www.amazon.com/dp/B005KN6S4E

The first chapter is just down the blog a bit from a post earlier this month.

Freeness

I will be obnoxious for the next five days.  Lawman is having its Select freebie from the thirty first through the fourth.  And, yes, I do expect you to sit there until midnight in your specific time zone until the proper moment.  The very least you could do is set your alarm.

I just spent almost 2 hours trying to post in the forums for Amazon in Germany, France, Italy, and Spain.  Yes, I have had sales from them so I pay them homage. Besides, their translations are adorable.
Italy kept putting my search in cucina no matter how hard I tried.

This grows more difficult for me each day.  I used to get excited about it, anxious to look at the numbers, but lately it is getting to be kind of nervous making.

Well, you will love this book.  I think it is a little easier on the intimate relations language which I have been told gets "kind of strong", and you fidelity afficianados will have a few problems with it.  But it is way more light-hearted.  (One person said, "Witty.')  That's just how Tim rolls.

Have fun picturing who you want to play the characters in the movie.  And, by the way, Christian Gray?  Pffft.  You'll see what I mean.

New Blurb

Do you really know how you would handle it?  Are you sure?  What would you do—what could you do if your first love, the guy that taught you everything about love came back into your life? What if he never really left?  You married someone else, you have kids, you made the good and moral decision to be faithful, to move on.  But this guy is always there for you when you need him the most, and he is so deeply embedded in your heart and soul, there is no saying no.  Can you love two people with complete passion?  Do you feel something must be missing somewhere?  Maybe not.  Sacred Sin, a modern, racy love story lets you decide what is right or wrong, because Jenny can’t.

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

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

Analyze This

Spikes.
 Why?

I have two WIPS, one a non-fic that I have been taking notes on for years. Both over 30,000 words, mind crawling with ideas. Word file won't open. I have Word 2007 on another machine which I used today. Like that keyboard better. All my work is on USB sticks. I am procrastinating like a nitwit. Why? My blog hit average is higher than ever, comments rising. Timing is SO ripe for the non-fic. What is the step that I cannot take here?  It doesn't feel like burn-out. I feel restless about it, a common side effect of my condition, so I just need to get on with it.

I did a batch of promos for Anymore today, and my Smashwords views and samples are up and down to an extreme, up today. This doesn't relate to sales as they download to Kobo, nook, apple, Kindle etc from there. Only the spreadsheet shows sales and mine is stalled at January.  I don't know. One  dear writer I admire gave me a link that  set off a grenade in my head and all my promos on Book Blogs today were a new format. We shall see. Maybe that is where the spike came from. As soon as I think I am learning how to play the system, I feel like I have been cut loose in a riptide. 

Any words of advice, how you reacted when you were in such a place, hints, commiseration (well, not that so much) would be appreciated.

Wake Up America

New Post

I see that I have not posted anything in several days.  I understand that if I post nothing then there is no one showing up to read it.  (That seems like kind of a Yoda-like sentence.)  I  am trying new meds and procrastinating like crazy.  I have to figure out what is going on.  But what started all this craziness was a song, and there is a new one running through my head, so I think stuff is going to start wanting to be typed and/or said.  Meanwhile, thanks for stopping by.  I'm gonna go eat ice cream.

Family Politics.

I am from a military family.  My father was in the Navy and became a Police Officer after that.  My husband was active duty in the Navy for nine years and stayed in the Reserve long enough to earn full retirement benefits which have benefited us, now in our later years, very greatly.  He was called up for a Special Operation in the Persian Gulf about twenty years ago.  Two years after that there was a mention of "The Secret War" in Time magazine in about a three inch square block with a picture of his duty station showing all his comrades and probably him standing on the deck, but it was too small to tell.  But it is not like he served KP all those years. I am extremely prejudiced and very supportive of our Military as a whole.  I get upset about the subcontracting and other things that I feel are negatives in the practical operations of the system, but the Star Spangled Banner at the fireworks show on the Navy Base and the Jeff Daniels video (which I will try to link to) cause tears to run down my face and a catch to form in my throat.

I have surrendered a friendship of many years standing over politics.  I feel so helpless sometimes.  I try to speak out, but I have so many fears.  My two brothers are at polar opposite ends of the political spectrum, and I am currently in the process of switching one of my psychoactive  drugs, so I am a mess.  There are so many people I do not want to alienate because I love them.  But I am so physically sick and tired of everyone standing around and doing nothing, saying nothing.  Why does this process have  to be so full of fear and hurt for me?  Please don't say "Take a chill pill, honey" as that seems to be what too many people are doing.

I am a bear about voting.  Ask my grandchildren.  If I can get them in that booth I feel pretty much the same way I did at Fran's college graduation.  They say vote fraud has a huge impact, and I would like to think I make a difference but when you know the guy across the street or your cousin or your friend or your brother are cancelling out your vote, it seems so futile. I try to mend my own fences, because I have heard things would be better if everyone did that.  But now it seems that the whole has crumbled.  Stoning in Dearborn, Michigan, the whole country of Holland (some are still trying to uphold their ideals and some are being killed in the streets over it) , another city in Texas (of ALL places) the name of which escapes me--write offs. (Ted Nugent, get on with it.) And we sit and do nothing.

I have always wondered about the mentality of the suicide bomber.

I need to get back on my Xanax fast.

Hey, did you know that George Soros funds Snopes?

This is the link to the Jeff Daniels video:  (I can't click through.  If you cannot, pasting will take you there.  And you should go there.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JM3nvATF-U8&feature=player_detailpage

anonymous. . .

The person who is visiting my blog and commenting more and more often, here is a message just for you.

You always ask me questions and provide no link to your blog.  I don't like answering comments on my blog so much.  Especially if it is so off-topic as the raw egg one.  And everyone already knows my stance on off-topicness is fairly liberal.  (It so pains me to type that word.)

Please do not let this dissuade you from visiting or commenting.

Ephemera

Actually, my blog is basically always ephemera if you go for the strict definition.

Anyone using the word ephemera in their blog for the next week will be subjected to my derision.

I told someone I would post this chapter for their consideration but it was some time ago, so it is probably useless at this time.  Feel free to skip it since you are already in the counter*.  It is the first chapter of Lawman, and I had to check if Select allowed it and they do.  Frankly, I like the last chapter better.  And I am tired of people saying my characters are promiscuous when they sleep with maybe two or three different people in their fictional life frames. And always for the best  and most non-casual reasons.

LAWMAN

by Virginia Llorca

Kindle Press Edition

9/1/2011

Chapter One

“Called on the carpet.  Monday morning.  Ruin the whole week for me why don’cha?  Probably getting the axe.  Hope it’s budget and I didn’t goof up.  Stop, Lily.  No point in wild conjecture.  Not wild.  Gotta be the axe.”  She tried to talk herself out of the worst case scenarios as she walked toward the States Attorney’s  office.

“Shoulda found my own job.  Stop it, Lily.  Not the end of the world.  You already survived that.  Chin up.  Paste on the smile.   Hi, Kelly!”  as she walked in.

“Hey, Lily!  How are ya doing?”

“Do I look as scared as I feel?”

“Wait til you see the crowd waiting on you!  Seriously, don’t worry.  It’s all good, hon.”

“Just have to tough my way through it.”

“And we all know that’s your strong point.  You’ll be fine, hon.   Lily’s here, sir,” she said to the intercom.

Lily had never seen so many people in Don’s office.  “Fire code violation,” she thought.  “Terminate me, I’ll retaliate!”. . .trying to buoy herself up.

“Lily, darlin’!  You brighten my day!”

“Whoa,” she thought, “aren’t we cooling the family stuff at work anymore?”

“Let me introduce you around, darling.  Lily, this is Max Davidson.  Midwest Regional Director for the FBI.  Mr. Davidson, Mrs. Scofeldt.”

“How do you do, Mr. Davidson.  I’m honored to meet you.”    (“Crap.  What did I do?  Regional Director?  Crap. . .”)  Two more FBI associates.  Someone from the governor’s office, the mayor’s office, and two ADA’s she already knew.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what this is all about, darling.”

(“Please stop calling me darling in front of the brass, Don!” she was screaming in her brain.)

“I can only imagine I’m being terminated.  And I’m hoping it’s budget related and not because of some horrible error I am blissfully unaware of.  But all the brass. . .   I mean. . . . Well. . . ”

“No, honey.  We have no intention of terminating your service.  We’re very pleased with your performance.  Especially liaising this difficult case.  Actually, Celeste was saying the boys are both going to be full day at school now, and we were thinking of asking you if you could come in the other two days.  Of course, we’ll still make sure you get home in time for the bus.”

“Oh, that would be so great, Don, er. . .  I mean, Mr. Solomon.  I was gonna ask about it.  Yeah.  Thanks.   I would like that.”

“Ahem. . .” coughed Mr. Davidson.

“Yes.  We’re getting sidetracked.   Down to the business at hand, Lily.  I’m afraid the subject we have to discuss may strike you as a bit more awkward  than being terminated.  You know how difficult it is to keep our personal lives out of the office, especially in this town.  And you know how serious this case is.  We just need to establish a few facts because we’re planning to hand down the indictment Wednesday a.m.”

“Yes, sir.  And I’m really glad we’ve finally reached that point.”

“We all are.  It’s been difficult.  Hon, there has been a kind of persistent undercurrent of gossip lately, and normally, giving it credence would only exacerbate the issues. But because of what’s at stake. . .” he paused to let Mr. Davidson jump in. 

“This is of a personal nature, and you are, of course, free to choose not to answer. We have to tell you though, that choice may affect our decisions.  We feel we must ask you at this time, Mrs. Scofeldt, if you did have or if you are having a personal relationship with Special Agent Raia.”

Lily was rocked back on her heels, but, of course, only figuratively, although it was apparent to everyone that she began to blush furiously and took a slightly deeper breath than usual.  Being taken completely unaware, and naturally tending toward being a bit outspoken, she blurted, unthinking, “Not yet!”  The sound of several chuckles being muffled was all that was heard for a few seconds too long.  “I mean, it seems. . .  I mean, I’ve heard. . .  I take this job very seriously, and I’m sure Special Agent Raia does also.  And, well, no.  I mean, I’ve never even had a personal conversation with him.  Well, wait, once he called me into his office for a conversation about an error, but I understand those instances have to be documented.”

The director spoke up to Don, chuckling, “That would be the now famous ‘tiny, arrogant, expletive deleted, small-town prom queen with attitude’ document?”

“I do believe that is the incident she is referring to,” Don laughed.   “And I believe since he insisted that be in her file, we will have to give her an opportunity to respond.”

“Perhaps in writing would be the best venue, although, if she insists, we could have a hearing,” the Director went on, with more than a hint of unprofessional sarcasm in his voice.

“I am confident enough in my standing on the issues he brought up that I don’t think it’s necessary for me to respond in any way.  And, since this isn’t vaudeville, I think we can stop the ‘schtick’ at my expense for now.”  Lily’s self assuredness quickly overcame the feeling that all this brass might be a little intimidating.

“Sorry, ADA Scofeldt,” said the Director, with an actual humble note in his tone.  “Sometimes we can act a little unprofessionally as we wind down these difficult cases. We’re probably all just a little too comfortable with one another after so long.”

“Okay, hon.  We can see clearly where you stand on this matter,” said Don.  “And we do seriously appreciate your candor.  We’ve already interviewed SA Raia, and we’re satisfied that we can go ahead with our plans.  SA Raia’s plans. . .  Well, probably not appropriate to comment on that in this venue.”  He rose from his desk and stood at Lily’s side as she shook everyone’s hand and walked to the door.  He put his arm around her shoulder so all would see she had his complete support, and he walked her past reception into the hall.  He figured they already knew he was her godfather and uncle, anyway.  And didn’t really care what they thought at this stage of his life. “Baby.  I’m so sorry to have put you through this, but you handled it beautifully.”

“Foot in mouth.”

“Nothing they weren’t already too aware of, babe.  And, honey, I don’t want to scare you, but this Tim, this Agent Raia?   I sat in on the interview, and he’s as straight arrow as they come. But we had to ask him some very direct questions, and Lily, as far as you are concerned, this is a bull in a pen, pawing at the ground.”

“Don.  Yikes.  I mean, Celeste already gave me the big sister talk and I can’t help but be aware of the tension in the room when he’s around.  But, yikes.  I mean.  I’m not disinterested, but you’re scaring me a little.”

“You’re ready for a little fun, babe.  Ben’s been gone two years now.  You know you’re ready to move on.  Just don’t make any hasty decisions.  Gotta get back.  Love you, darlin’.  You’ll be fine.”  And he didn’t care who saw him give her that affectionate smooch.  There were certain advantages in being the big gun in a small town.

***

“Well, the guy is a fox,” she was thinking.  "Tim?"  All she had ever heard was SA Raia.  “Timmy?  Cute.  Well, I’d give him a second glance for sure.  Guess I already have.  But, heck,  his job is over in this town on Wednesday.  And that starts my two weeks off.  Bobby starting first grade.  Really a way bigger deal than Agent Raia’s potential.  But, yeow.  Everyone can feel what’s going on when he’s in the same room I am.  Might be fun.  Well, we’ll see.  The ball is in his court.  Anyway, who knows where he even lives.  I’m not even gonna ask Celeste.  Any information goes out as quick as it comes in with her.  Last thing he needs to hear is me making inquiries.”

***

But Celeste was calling before Lily even got half way home.  “I heard you were interrogated by the big brass.”

“Not exactly interrogated, Celeste.  Everything is cool.”

“No.  It’s not cool, babe.  This is anything but cool.  How many months did you work together?  Four?  Five?  That’s a lot of foreplay.”

“Don’t be gross, Cece.”

“The weird thing is he’s actually asked a couple of people if you’ve said anything about him.  I don’t know if that’s adolescent or stalkerish.  Kinda creepy.”

“The last thing I read off this vibe is creepy.”

“What’s the first?”

“C’mon, Cece.  Give me a break here.  I’m practically a novice at this.”

“And he’s been divorced eight years!  Fireworks, Lily!  Even the Director made a remark about it.  Something about fireproof sheets when the two of you get together.  And he talks to Raia all the time.  Wow, love to be the fly on that wall.”

“That would border on sexual harassment if I heard it, I think.”

“Well, it would have to be Agent Raia to bring charges and who knows who started that conversation.  I just get the trickle down from Don. You know guys are utterly gross about that stuff.  But Don did emphasize the fact that the word was when you get together, not if. ”

 “Like I’m not going to have anything to say about it?  Too bad they don’t have something a little more professional to discuss. Anyway he’ll probably be on a plane Wednesday night.”

“No, baby.  Lots of people are laying money on this one.”

“Nice.  Small town mentality.  Nothing else to talk about.”

“You’re our star, honey.  You’re everyone’s darling.   But I kind of get the feeling your goose is cooked.”

“Speaking of cooking, gotta fix dinner, sweetie.  Let it rest.  Love you.”

***

The indictment went down without a hitch on Wednesday.  Senior Special Agent Raia and the Director, along with State’s Attorney Solomon, handled the press conference.  Lily was so far down on the totem pole she didn’t even have to hang around for that.  Of course her absence was noted.  “I wanted to give a special thank you to our newest ADA, Lily Scofeldt for the great job she did for us, but apparently she has already left.”

Someone spoke out, “We’re sure you’re going to be able to deliver that thank you personally, Tim.”

“I hope the mikes are off.  You guys really need to get a life.”

“Right now it’s your life we’re talking about, Raia.  And Lily’s. Don’t forget this entire town thinks she’s under its protection,” said Don, trying to sound a bit protective and fatherly, despite the huge smile on his face.

And Lily was driving home thinking Agent Raia might have at least made an effort to say good bye to her after all the hype.  But mostly she was thinking about Friday being the first day of school for Bobby.  Only a half day, but so exciting for him to go on the big kid’s bus.  Still, she admitted she felt a little let down.  And it turned out the whole weekend seemed kind of long.  Maybe being away from work for two whole weeks with the kids gone all day wasn’t such a good idea.  And weather unseasonably warm for this late in the summer was promised. Of course there were plenty of projects around the house that needed attention, especially the yard which was showing signs of neglect and needed an end of summer clean up.

~~~~~~~~~~~

End of chapter one.

*Speaking of counters--my blog site shows counters with three differing opinions.  They must be opinions since they so widely vary.  Well, maybe not widely.  It just goes to show me I shouldn't be concerned with them, right?

Blogs and stuff

I just spent two solid hours reposting stuff between Pinterest and Tumblr.  Make it worth my while.

I think this is like those people who are so into scrapbooking. My tumblr blog is Red Musings and I reposted from another blog that specifies you can only post if you are a redhead or an artist who paints or photographs them


.And, as usual, I fully own the fact that it is distracting me from the WIPs.

 
My real life. . .

33 ways to stay creative

Good nudges:

(From Stumble Upon)

33 Ways to Stay Creative

Except. what if you aren't so creative in the first place?

Stealing

There was another big plagiarism brouhaha recently but it was all blog wise, so maybe some of you, the uninitiated, missed out on it. It was very blatant and the person tried to apologize in a bunch of euphemistic terms in such a way that she was not accepting blame.  Finally, weeks later I think it was, she threw in the towel and said, "Yeah.  I'm a thief."

I went through this when one of my grandaughters was in high school and she had to do a biographical poster for math class.  You didn't ask me, but it seems obvious we are in trouble here from the get go.  What kid that  can read doesn't do cut and paste for this type of project?  Well the teacher's biggest complaint was she did not source one of the photos which was scanned from a book.  I went to every body that had anything to do with it with the most amazing letter that I came across recently and still wonder at.  Its verbosity, its cunning use of language, its explicitness.  It left no room for argument, and it made such a huge impression on me that I never bothered to find out if he decided to cut Cas a little slack on the grade.  Similar incident when Fran was in high school, but different.  She got twenty percent for the research, twenty percent for the outline, twenty percent for the index cards, twenty percent for the rough draft and twenty percent for the final doc.  (Is that 100 yet?)  So she never handed in the final doc so the teacher gave her a zero.  It was agreed that the system of grading was indeed flawed but it was also agreed that Fran did indeed earn eighty percent of the grade.  That one I know was changed.  Didn't matter in the long run as is true of most of the causes around which I choose to rally.  She got a scholarship to Loyola based on her GED scores.

Anyway. . .

The thing is, and this is at least the third time this has happened,  I drop the husk on the floor when I leave which is all that is left of the seed of the idea that blossomed into some marvelous piece of editorial genius, and someone finds it and runs with it.  Only they don't even run in the right direction.  It isn't just stealing, well, let's be kind and let them call it inspiration, it is rubbing my nose in it.  Cuz I can say it better and it was my seed so get the hell off the farm. It's like that meme on Pinterest where they show you how to make the inside out cupcakes and then you post your photo of the outcome which is a hilarious mess and the caption reads, "Nailed it."  I swear, if I had any way of knowing if that person derived any satisfaction from finishing their pointless paragraphs, I would be even more pissed off.  Every time I see a movie or read a book and say, "Oh, I used that in my book"(months before) I want to weep except I am so far past being emotionally involved in this little hobby/career foible I call my writing.  And there is a screen play and some dick actress doing a shitty job of saying what my Jenny said or my Deanie said.  And they are sitting in the basement counting their nickles.  Oh irony of ironies.  

Well, I guess it is time for me to fall back on "I had my day in the sun" and just remove myself from the issues.  But no.  I am too nosy, too curious, too conceited to let it drop.  I shall drag it kicking and screaming with me to the grave.  Except, I forgot, I'm not going to do the grave thing.

Homage

Everybody hopes they will be remembered when they are gone.  My younger brother was nine when my maternal grandma died and he says he has no recollection of her at all.  That makes me especially sad because I remember  her sitting in the rocker when he was a baby and rocking him and humming to him for hours on end.  I am positive she sang the words when we weren't around, cuz that's the way I roll on that one, but it is an image I keep in my mind.  Unfortunately there are some not so pleasant, but I am good at ignoring that.  Actually, even when my mom and dad were out and she was in charge and she forced us to kneel at the dining room chairs and pray aloud is not an unpleasant memory, and it always makes me think how important it was to her to try and save our souls.  Her faith is what led her to have such a peaceful attitude toward her dying, a fact she lived with for awhile.

But I digress, excessively.

Do you do Pinterest?  Do you even know what it is?  I love it.  It is a huge time suck but so much fun.  Not in the sense of "Ha Ha ha", although there is occasionally that.  But as an  excuse to keep you from writing or editing or vacuuming.  Many a moon ago, I came across an entry that I repinned, also many a moon ago.

Well, not too easy to read but that is extra large.  Original runs way off the page edge.

Anyway, that was Mitch Hedburg.  I really liked him.  He was so George Carlinesque in his take on reality but picked on the strange  little things, like the waffle.  I don't think George Carlin did waffles..
Fran came home from a class one day to tell me her speech teacher mentioned Mitch Hedburg.  She was sure I was the only person in the world that ever heard of him. So today someone reposted this on Pinterest.  My caption was "Gone too soon."  He died in his early fifties from some drug related thing which is not a big deal, Heath Ledger, me, etc., but so brilliant to be snuffed out so soon.  So I linked to the poster's board and she had some more of his stuff.  I thought it was great that a person can live on like that.  No body special but left a nice legacy.  I am glad to remember him.

Brilliance

You know, don't you now, that someone somewhere can write a blog and the numbers come in showing that the marketing, if not the actual content of said blog was brilliant beyond comprehension, evidenced by the through the roof spike in stats.  And yet, no one was moved, even by the CTA, to comment in any way, even to say, "Wow, was I disappointed after all that build up".  Or, "This was the most amazing thing I have read in ages, but the punctuation could use a little sprucing up."  Whatever.   Say "Kilroy was here" or something for God's sake.  If the post embarrassed you so that you go  slinking away before anyone notices you, too bad.  You already left a footprint.  So speak the fuck up.  What is wrong with you people?

Modern Medicine

My daughter being a degreed Nurse, I, by default, don't give much thought to medical problems.  I just ask her and she usually has the answer at hand or sends me a link.

The vaccine question is probably equal parts politics and pragmatism, and every one seems to have an opinion on the subject.  Being ancient, I know many people that blame their own children's problems on vaccines.  They have told me their doctors back them up.  In my personal experience I have had conversations in which three parents with highly messed up, (impaired to the tenth power)  offspring whose docs have said "This is clearly due to the vaccine."   I lie somewhere in the middle. I am scared of them, but usually buckle when presented with facts, like Pertussis is on the upswing.   I got the pneumonia shot, so I had a cold that led to a sinus infection and shingles and lasted four months.  If it had simply turned to pneumonia, a Z-pack would have fixed me up in seven days.  But, once again, I digress.

I herein copy an illuminating document that supports vaccinating in clear easy to follow terms.  After you read it, let me know if it has at all altered your opinions, be they whatever. I have made an informed decision to present it in its original format, knowing it will mess with the borders of my exquisitely designed blog.  Scrolling will help you if there is overlap, but I am doing this to help you read it since most of you are older than snot.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish

I found the stonings in Dearborn, Michigan very disturbing. 

 This two minute clip is very moving. I would prefer to see more like it than videos of people being stoned in America. 

http://digg.com/newsbar/topnews/if_this_video_doesn_t_make_your_heart_swell_there_s_a_decent_chance_you_don_t_have_a_heart

What's your take on this?

Big Mouth

I have posted so much inflammatory stuff today. My remarks have already cost me a Drawsome partner.

This is all a stall cuz I have to reformat a doc and I am one-third through and I do not want to do it.  I don't know why cuz when I did the first third, which I've been postponing forever,  I enjoyed it.  But I must be having one of those 'cycles'.  An acquaintance doesn't go to a shrink.  She goes to a psycho-pharmacologist.  I get my mind altering drugs from my GP.  I said "No.  I can't take Advil.  It raises blood pressure."  She says, "Oh, I never knew that."


So she took away my xanax cuz I said I REALLY like it and everyone loves me when I am on it and please, sir, can I have more?  And she gives me klonopin which must be related to Paxil cuz it makes you not give a shit about anything.  I didn't even pay attention to blending the colors for my Impatiens this Spring.  It cannot get much worse than that.  So I am not going through that shrink crap again.  What a bunch of loonies I have met. So, I don't know.  Maybe Lawman will hit Select this week.  Maybe the yews will get trimmed.  You have to do it before July first.


In the meanwhile, I shared this vid on twitter, but if you didn't catch it there, go to YouTube and search "PissedPotter".  It is so purely fucking sensible.  Really.

My husband just asked me if he could download a huge video file to my computer.  I said "Do you have it on a zip drive?"  And he said he did.  So I said, "Can't I just put your zip drive in my machine and watch it tomorrow?"  Of course I had to add, "That will be the closest thing we've had to sex in a long time." Yeah, we're old.

This poor guy.  I love him so much and he is in the cellar.

BRAVE

So glad a curly haired Celtic redhead is the new heroine  since all mine are. Wonderful film by the way. 

This is For the Girl in the Hat

Don't see many crow  jokes.  I thought this was so bright. From a site called "I Fucking Love Science".

Replacement**

** or, "Ditty Wimps Out"

Father's Day

My father is incredibly old. He insists on driving himself and lives alone, despite my remodeling a room for him  and asking him to move here countless times.  "You'd have to get rid of a few kids and animals before I'd think about that."

My mom died six years ago and we all thought, including his doctor, that he would not last long without her.  But he is apparently an expert at transference, even arguing about what hospital I was born in, confusing me with her.

He is a very good person.  He was a cop, for which I paid dearly in my teen years, and a very hard working person.  He frequently had three jobs.  Cops were allowed to moonlight in those days.  I grew up with my share of daddy fantasies, acting some of them out,  making out under the stairs with his partner  at his retirement party, for instance. Daddy would have shot the guy.

If nothing else, he taught us you don't get anything without working for it.  He talks about how uninvolved his dad was in his life.  I said, "He must have done something right because he made you what you are and everyone knows you are a fine person."  The world is indeed a better place for him being in it, and the world definitely needs more people like him, to use  some of the  cliches in that regard.

But one  day he was talking about how his dad was never around to play games with them, or take them swimming.  Maybe my dad practiced baseball a little with my older brother but I don't recall that. We all learned to ride our two-wheelers pushing off the fence, not with the dad running behind  holding the fender.  Surely he did not toss the old ball around at all with my second brother, and  he never played games with me until after my mom died.  They played Yahtzee every day.  I would go and visit after she was gone and suggested we take up Yahtzee again.  I kicked his ass the first three games and we never played again.

Anyway, he repeats stories endlessly in his dotage, and we earn our points with God by patiently listening.  So one day when he was talking about his dad, yet again. (My grandpa was a handsome, debonair, wonderful guy to me.  The Minnetonka story is elsewhere in this ongoing chronicle) and my dad said, "My father never even bought me a bicycle."  I said, "But, dad, you never bought me a bicycle either."  (I bought my own bike when I was seven, the story of which probably also lies elsewhere in this chronicle.)  He just stared at me, for once at a loss for words, and, I am certain, for the first time realizing that he had indeed walked in his dad's shoes, at least in some cases.

One thing, a far more precious gift than a bike, is the self-reliance he taught me by not buying me a bicycle.

And, to prove  the thesis, my dad and his pal, Bill, bought a car when he was eleven, fixed it and drove it--to grade school.



















father's Day

Almost

I couldn't stand to be in that room one more minute.  I felt nothing but hate and frustration. Every time he tried to talk to me, I sneered.  He put up with it because he thought he deserved it.  That just pissed me off more  because I was providing him with absolution.  Thank God he fell asleep fast and I left the minute he did.  I don't know what time it was.

We were in New London and there was a place the train went past this rock wall.  I stood in a niche and the trains were so close I could touch them if I wanted.  I remember thinking it was like those statues in church in their niches.  Maybe I was tempted.  I didn't feel suicidal or scared. I didn't feel anything.  After a while I hunkered down and when the sky got light I went back to the room because I knew he'd be gone to the shipyard.  I remember every stitch of clothing I had on, but a few days later, I went looking for the place and couldn't find it.  I didn't know where I was.  In so many ways.

Balance

Yeah, I'm a crab, but:

Neighbor

All In A Day's Work

I want to publish this non-fiction thing because the timing is right, but this other story is scratching at my brain. 7,932 words seems like a good day's work until you consider it is a tenth of what I need and it's the wrong story.  But maybe it is the right story.

Bored

In For It

There is this huge site called Goodreads.  You can promote your work, ask questions, discuss books, review books, answer questions.  It is just huge and early on it was recommended that I utilize it. It is kind of too huge.  You can have problems with it, like someone may look for your book and can't find it.  Early on a guy named Larry asked me to be his friend.  I said something that must have led him to believe  I could think even though I was a female.  His profile pic shows him holding an armful of awards and trophies and he never stops talking about his experience and expertise.  I added him as a friend because he was the first person who asked me.  He complimented me and I was a novice.  I hadn't known about the friendship process. So lately he has been sniping at people and  he said to a person who has a published book, did the book benefit from a professional editing.  He didn't say this book needed a professional edit.  The guy replied he had several beta readers before publishing and Larry went into a spiel quoting  dictionaries and other sources about how beta readers were amateurs and he was talking about professionals.  The guy replied with a source defining a beta reader and Larry shot him down.  They started about legalese and intellectual rights and I interjected a remark saying Larry was beating around the bush arguing about the terminology and not stating whether the book needed an edit.   He jumped all over me and  got all snide and called me an amateur.  Did I ever say I wasn't?  And the "well, then, if you are such an 'expert'" crap.  I fired off how he had gone from being snide to being insulting and how he was always flaunting his professionalism.  I so wanted to tell him to fuck off, but it was not the correct venue.  (Strange guideline I have there, huh?) So now, I am sure, every book I have on Goodreads will receive a scathing insulting zero review.  Sometimes, honestly, and I know my Church teaches the desire or the intent to commit the sin is the same as committing it, but I just really want to shoot him.  I hate him.  I do.  I guess it is nice I have a target.

I love Mises(dot)org.  It is just fun to jump into the debates sometimes and they get all over me.  One guy said he liked it better when Mises was an all boys club.  I admit to them the limits of my knowledge and some come and comment on my blog and it is just a neat site.  He said I am always pushing it on Goodreads.  I think I mentioned it twice as a good place to go to discuss intellectual property rights.  Like maybe especially if your usual genre is romance or science fiction.  I am so steamed.  I keep saying I should learn to keep my mouth shut, but not this time.  Someone needed to call out this needle dick and I am glad it was me.

More Art That I Am Getting Weird For

I had the biggest sales day ever.  I have NO idea how to keep the momentum going.  I thought it odd, that after giving away over 8,000 for free, people came in and paid money for it the next day.  But it is all good.  And a few cross sales which is how the Select thing is supposed to work in theory.  I have to get busy.  Too much going on. This all makes me very nervous.

Now Back to Life

I shall continue with my art experiment. Bore you all to tears.  Go read. Preferably my book.

Monday

I was kind of surprised by this.  Usually day four the numbers go way down.  But I kind of have a clue about why it happened this way this time.  Still, only one cross sale so far. Yet, I am extremely pleased.

The numbers are incredible.

5059 in US
112 in UK
21 in Germany
2 in France

Now if only a FEW of these people actually read it. And if a few of them actually like it.  But stats show something like 80% never even read it.  We will see.

Oh, this was for Sacred Sin. Nauseating to most of you, but at least Fran can print this out and display it at my funeral.

Today

Isn't this nice?  Too bad it only lasts a few days.

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

First Day

I know it will drop like a stone, but it is fun to see.  #43 in Contemporary Fiction. (Amazon's free promotion)