Two Sentence Tuesday

Hi all! I'm back! Life has been crazy busy lately. For all interested Aaron is doing really well. He is adjusting beautifully (better than I am some days). He is starting to have a few night terrors, but we are trying to work through them. It is hard because he still has difficulty communicating sometimes. His speech therapy is going really well, and in the three months he's been with us, he's gone from having a vocabulary of 10-15 words to 100s, and he talks constantly. Our newest game is to read a book to him one time, and then he "reads" it to us. It is amazing what he can remember.

Right now his favorite song is the theme song from Cops. You know the one, "Bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do, what you gonna do when they come for you." He walks around singing that all the time, except he changed the lyrics. For him the song goes, "Bad dog, bad dog, what you do, what you do."

For only being two, he amazes me. Okay, enough about my personal life, on to the writing. I am participating in NaNoWriMo. It is only a few days in, and I am behind. Not a lot, but behind none the less. I'm really trying to catch up though.

I am reading Charlaine Harris' Dead Until Dark again. And the last two lines I read were:

Not knowing what to think, I went home to find that Andy Bellefleur had been roused by his pager. he'd left me a note telling me that, and nothing else. Later on, I found that he'd actually been in the hospital while I was there, and waited until I was gone out of consideration for me before he'd handcuffed Jason to the bed.

From my NaNo project:

Within minutes Monica Blake had been pushed to the back corner of his mind. Not forgotten, not completely, but not his sole focus any longer. Too many deaths crowded his days.

Take a trip over to the Women of Mystery to check out more Two Sentence Tuesday fun!

3 Word Wednesday

The prompts at 3WW today are: luster, threat, and glare.

Terror begins to overwhelm me.
Headaches, nausea, aches and pains.
The luster of happiness cracked under stress.
With no way to defend myself,
I tremble in the face of the threat.
It feels like I am under hot lights,
Sweating through their glare.
Fear and loathing coats my skin,
Leaving an oily stain on my soul.


We found out last night that there may be some issues with us adopting our son. Think good thoughts for us, January can't come soon enough.

3WW - Imagination

This weeks words over at 3WW are: capture, jinx and qualify. Here's a little something about my unfortunate imagination.

It doesn’t take much to capture the attention of someone like me. Someone who watches others, waiting for just the right action, a moment of inattention resulting in calamity. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to jinx anyone, but a little accident makes great fodder for my imagination.

I don’t wish misfortune on anyone, but I wait for it. I watch for the hurried businessman, nose buried in the Wall Street Journal, to trip on a crack in the sidewalk, spill his $12 latte on the lawyer striding the opposite direction, engrossed in her cell phone.

My imagination spins on from there.

Her red dress ruined, the lawyer screams at the businessman, who backs up a step, whacking a homeless man with his briefcase. The homeless man careens into a bike messenger who is distracted by the race he has to win today to qualify for a triathlon. The biker spins out of control and falls onto the busy roadway. A semi truck is roaring down the street, horn blaring, tons and tons of death looming near. When suddenly, a little old lady, a grandma out for a stroll with her young grandson sees what is happening. She tells the boy to stay where he is, and swoops into action. Tossing aside her cane, the old woman dashes into the street, narrowly missing cars whizzing by, grabs the bike messenger by the back of the shirt and jerks him out of harms way.

I smile a little as I watch the reality unfold in front of me. The busy man trips and spills his coffee on the woman in the red dress. She gasps, he apologizes and they both walk away.

Shaking my head, I wander farther down the street hoping for a little more misfortune.

For more fun with words head over to 3WW. It felt so great to write this. I know it isn't a masterpiece, but it is mine and it isn't a report for work or a note for a social worker. It is just pure fiction. Refreshing after almost a month of NO WRITING. Thanks for visiting!

The Mystery of Life

Why is it that every time I feel like I just can't fight any longer, something happens and changes my life.

As some of you know, hubby and I have been trying to adopt for a while now. The process is slow and ultimatly painful at times, but we hadn't given up. When we first started out, we were positive that we could never be a foster home. How could we ever give a child that we'd grown to love back to someone that had hurt them?

Time went by and we worked with foster homes and the AMAZING foster families in our area. Still not totally convinced we waited, praying we would find the right child for us.

Sometimes, I get discouraged too easily, I know that, hubby knows that, everyone I know, knows that. I was truly afraid we would never find a child that was right for us. So, hubby and I started talking about fostering. It was still just a thought, we weren't totally committed to the idea, but we were thinking about it.

Just about the time we decided to maybe take the chance, God took over our lives.

On Wednesday, two days ago, our adoption caseworker emailed me at 4:45. There was a two year old little boy up for adoption, no mental problems, no physical problems, no real medical problems. The catch, no photo and he had to be placed by the end of the week. Were we interested?

I called hubby. We agreed that yes, this is the one we've been looking for. I called our caseworker and told her yes, yes, yes. We want him. I didn't hear from her again that night.

Fast forward to Thursday. I email our caseworker to ask some questions. Her response. The other social worker has narrowed it down to us and one other couple. It may be a while before we know anything. That was 9:00 am.

At 11:15, I check my cell phone for the millionth time, and I have a voicemail. It's our caseworker. the message: Congratulations. Your son will be in your home on Saturday.

Euphoria quickly turned to panic. It is now Friday. In 24 hours, I will be a mother of a two year old. I'm scared, excited, freaked out, terrified and totally unprepared.

Wish us luck.

Two For Tuesday

I have written absolutely nothing this week, but today I pulled up one of my unfinished manuscripts to try and get something done on it. After ten minutes of wanting to stab myself in the eye because of all the passive voice, I gave up and just started highlighting all of the be, was, been, has and were’s. It is a little depressing. But, here are the last two lines from it:

His shoulders stiffened. “Lock this behind me when I leave.” Without another word, he left her alone.
“Well, Sam,” she looked at the puppy, “looks like it’s you and me against the world.”

As for what I am reading, I just finished Jodie Picoult’s My Sister’s Keeper. Wonderful, amazing book – made me cry like a baby. I won’t give you the last two lines, but here are a few that I liked. It is more than two again, but I’ve always been an overachiever.

“No,” I say automatically. “He’s a service dog.”
“Oh.” The woman straightens, pulls her son away. “But you aren’t blind.”
I’m epileptic, and this is my seizure dog. I think about coming clean , for once, for the first time. But then again, you have to be able to laugh at yourself, don’t you? “I’m a lawyer,” I say, and I grin at her. “He chases ambulances for me.”


I hope things are good with everyone in the world.

Two For Tuesday

Things have been frighteningly busy the last few weeks and I am finally starting to catch my breath. Here’s a quick recap of recent events:

We are gearing up for a new major exhibit at work, so I am snowed under there.

Friday was my birthday and it was an extremely good and extremely bad day. My wonderful hubby hid cards and presents for me all over the house, but part of my family and most of my friends forgot it was even my birthday, and hubby was out of town. But, on the same day we received our adoption certification. We are now officially approved by the state to adopt not one, but two children. Yay us! My amazing little brother (and I use that term loosely because he is now at least 6 feet tall) took me to a horrible movie. We went to see Drag Me To Hell, and let me tell you now, the scary parts are only when someone is jumping out at you, otherwise, it is very funny. We laughed a lot, but were disappointed. We both love a good scary movie.

Saturday, hubby and I attended a friend’s wedding. She used to be one of my very best friends, and hubby actually had dated her a couple of times in college, but now, I hardly ever see or hear from her. It made me sad.

Sunday, we cleaned house, sorta, and were generally bums.

Yesterday was the big day for my brother-in-law and his wife. The doctors induced her labor and in just over three hours, we had a new addition to our family. Things didn’t go so well from there though. The baby aspirated during delivery and his lungs weren’t working well at all. Late yesterday afternoon, they intubated him. Scary stuff. He has been on the ventilator all night, but at around midnight my brother-in-law called and they are weaning the baby off oxygen, so hopefully they will take the tube out sometime this afternoon.

So, that’s it on the home front. Now on to the reading and writing portion of the day’s entertainment. Right now I am reading Whispered Lies by Sherrilyn Kenyon and Dianna Love. I’m a freak for anything Sherrilyn Kenyon/Kinley MacGregor. So, here are the last two lines I read:

Carlos slipped his knife from its sheath and entered silently. He moved two whispered steps and reached for a fist of thick, black hair. As he whipped the man’s head back, exposing his throat to the razor-sharp blade, Carlos got a clear shot of the young woman lying still as death – Mandy – her wrists bleeding profusely. Merde.

I love the tension in these sentences. Love it. And here are a couple of sentences from a freelance project I am working on:

Nobody ever told me growing up that sometimes the one you think is your one true love might not really be. No one ever told me that I might have to start looking again after I turned forty.

Now, I’m not forty, I’m (ahem) thirty something. This was written from a man’s point of view in first person. That was a challenge for me. I’m not so great at first person, I always want to slip into third, but the hardest part was writing about a forty year old man! There came a point of desperation late last night that I almost called my dad and asked him how he would react to certain situations, but I toughed it out and made it through, and I think it turned out pretty well. We’ll see if I get paid for it though, right!

Hope everyone is having a great day, and for more two sentence fun, drop by the Women of Mystery.

Really great writing

On occasion I get to read some really great writing and today was one of those days. A local second grade class came to visit us and wrote us letters to say thank you. Sometimes, it takes a group to figure out what they really say, so to help in your future reading pleasure here are some of our all-time favorite misspellings.

Here are the sentences as written, and then our interpretation of them.

Sentence - This wus the funest filchrip ever.
Interpretation – This field trip gave me a new insight on the world we live in and was highly entertaining.

Sentence – Thank you for lating us come hear.
Interpretation – It was an honor and a privilege to visit your institution.

Sentence – I came here wunts before, this is my secint time.
Interpretation – I found it to be so intellectually stimulation that I had to make a return visit.

Sentence – I liked where I culd see his musuls and bones.
Interpretation – It was fascinating to see the musculature and bone structure in such detail.

Sentence – I liked seeing the Amarikine horses.
Interpretation – I’m proud to see such a fine example of American horses.

Sentence – The herse wus really cool.
Interpretation – There were many interesting things to see, but I was fascinated by the horse.

Sentence – Thang you for the pinciels and letting us in the play aire.
Interpretation – I appreciate the gift of pencils and the freedom and intellectual opportunities in the education gallery.

Sentence – I liked it and my techar really liked it.
Interpretation – My instructor and I both enjoyed the refreshing environment.

Sentence – I loved the penicals and upsters.
Interpretation – The pencils were a useful tool to take notes on all of the amazing items displayed on your second floor.

Sentence – I relley liked it. It wus so so so cool.
Interpretation – I really liked it. It was so so so cool.

Sentence – This was abslootlee my favorite.
Interpretation – This was absolutely my favorite.

Two Sentence Tuesday

Happy Tuesday all! I hope things are well in the blogosphere. Things have been super hectic here. Our home study came back yesterday, but our social worker didn’t say it was good or bad, so now I’m super worried. On a happy note I was notified yesterday that I am a finalist again this year at the Frontiers in Writing contest. Last year I placed first in the Romance category. This year, I entered my current WIP, and I didn’t think it stood a chance. I mean, here we are smack dab in the middle of the Bible Belt and I entered an erotica piece. I know I am a decent writer, but I figured the subject matter would boot me right out of the competition. It was a complete surprise when I got the email yesterday.

Right now, I am reading the Night World series by L. J. Smith. It is a set of three volumes with three books in each volume. It is marketed as a teen series, but so far, I’m thinking it is more of a young reader than a teen series. All of the characters are immature, whiny and selfish. I’m having a hard time staying interested, and wouldn’t you know I bought the whole series. I’m currently reading the third book in the first volume, titled Spellbinder. Here are the last two lines I read:

“It’s Blaise’s fault,” Thea said. She was mad at Blaise. “She does – things – to boys. Human boys. And somehow it always ends up getting us kicked out of school. Both of us, because I’m always too stupid to tell them she’s the one responsible.”

Normally, I really enjoy reading teen series. As much as everyone hates on it, I like Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight books, I love The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, The Boy In The Striped Pajamas by John Boyne, but these I’m not loving. Oh, well, it was worth a shot.

Now, here are the last two lines I wrote. Please be gentle with me, I’m feeling a little fragile right now!

Mariska like to write things down. Not necessarily things she was working on, but thoughts and ideas that crossed her mind when she was otherwise preoccupied. With the stress of holding down her job at the precinct and building up her own business, she felt the quick notes she was able to jot down were her last hope at fulfilling the dream of being a writer. They were her creative outlet inside days filled with codes and puzzles.

I know. It is more than two sentences. It is double that, but what can I say? I’m an overachiever! Send good thoughts my way about the home study, I’m a little bit freaked out. Have a great day, and for more Two Sentence Tuesday, sneak over and visit the Women of Mystery.

3WW - Meet Me At Zero's

Today's prompts at 3WW are: Cryptic, Flash, and Malign. Another semi-dark piece. Enjoy!

“Meet me at Zero’s at 11:30 tonight. I have information for the story you are doing about Mayor Ford. I’ll find you there.”

The cryptic message on her voice mail left her confused. The voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it. And why Zero’s? The club that catered to the goth crowd.

Cynda dug through her closet trying to find something black, other than her favorite little black dress to wear to the meeting. Black slacks, nope. Black silk blouse, nope. After a few minutes of digging she unearthed a pair of ripped jeans from her college days, a blood red corset top from last Halloween, combat boots from research she’d done on survival camp, and a black leather bomber jacket her ex-boyfriend had forgotten when he moved out.

She surveyed the look in the mirror and wasn’t thrilled. “Close enough.”

Bass pounded through the cavernous space like a heartbeat. Shadows clung to everything, flickering in the dim light of hundreds of candles. Feeling smothered, Cynda struggled to draw a breath in the crush of bodies. Every few minutes a flash of light would pulse through the club, illuminating the couples huddled in the darkest corners.

The music throbbed loud and heavy, making it feel like her bones were resonating in time with the beat. She didn’t know who to look for, so her eyes briefly landed on every face in the crowd.

At the bar she squeezed onto a bar stool between two heavily muscled men and ordered a Jack and coke. Cynda sipped the watered down drink and wondered who had left her the message. The voice had been female, and something tickled her brain and told her she knew who it was.

A tap on her shoulder had her spinning around, slamming her knee into the bar on the way.

“Dang, girl! That had to hurt.” The kid standing in front of her was in his early twenties and had so much metal in his face that it had to be impossible for him to get through airport security.

She absently rubbed the ache in her knee. “What’s up?”
“How ‘bout you come dance with me?” He leered at the cleavage pushing the limits of the corset’s control. He jacked his jeans up and all the chains hanging from his pants rattled loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” She tried to turn back around, but his hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Look buddy –.”

He leaned in close and spoke in her ear. “Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you do, okay. You are just supposed to come with me. She said to tell you she had information.”

Cynda gulped the rest of her drink and slid off the stood. Grabbing his hand so she wouldn’t loose him in the throng on the dance floor, she waited for him to lead the way.

He nodded and the look in his eyes far older than his years made her wonder what had happened to him. He dragged her across the club to a dark hallway that led to the restrooms. “Go into the third stall and wait there.”

She started down the hall and again he stopped her. “Watch yourself in there.”

“Thanks.”

The stall was cramped and covered in graffiti, but within seconds hard hands pulled her out and pushed her against a wall. “Why do you want information on Mayor Ford?”

The same voice from her voice mail.

“I’m doing a story on him.” The rough cinder block wall abraded her face.

“Why?” The other woman leaned heavily on Cynda.

“Because I’m a reporter, damn it. That’s my job.” Air flowed into her lungs when the pressure was taken off her back. “Can I turn around.”

“What do you know about, Daniel Ford?”

Cynda turned slowly to face her informant. Shock held her immobile for a second. “Mrs. Ford?”

“What do you know about my husband?” The normally elegant Angela Ford was dressed in leather and chains with enough black eyeliner ringing her eyes to take care of four goth girls. “I’m not going to ask again. Tell me what you know.”

Unease skittered down Cynda’s spine. “I know there is a rumor spreading that he can’t keep his hands off your babysitter.”

The ice in Angela’s eyes was malign. “That son of a bitch has a thing for teenager boys. I’m going to give you all the nasty dirty details and you, my dear are going to make sure he never sees the light of day again.”

Six weeks later a jury of his peers convicted Mayor Daniel Franklin Ford to forty years in prison. His high priced lawyer immediately filed an appeal. Mrs. Angela Ford sat in the court room day after day in her beautiful suits; her manicured hands grasped tightly in her lap and never shed a tear.

Before he left the court room after the verdict, Mayor Ford was handed divorce papers by his wife’s high-priced lawyer. His shocked eyes met hers and she blew him a kiss.

For more fun with three words, take a short jaunt over to 3WW to read more.

Two Sentence Tuesday

Two Line Tuesday is super busy today. Last night I was blessed to see Maya Angelou speak. When she walked on the stage, I got chills. The venue was packed, and every single person there stood and applauded. Ms. Angelou spoke, sang, laughed, cracked jokes and lit up the arena with her beautiful smile. It was a once in a lifetime experience that I will hold dear. I was able to share that with my hubby and my mother, and ran into a few friends while there.

Maya Angelou is a powerful speaker, beautiful woman and true talent. She spoke last night about rainbows in the clouds. Every part of your life is filled with rainbows of people who love you, care for you and want to help you. She ended with advice for all of us to become rainbows for someone else.

I won’t lie to you. Hearing her speak made me tear up. This woman who at 16 was an unmarried, pregnant, six foot tall black woman in the south, never let go of her dreams and look what she’s become…

So, for my last two lines read, I give you en excerpt of Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.

What sets one Southern town apart from another, or from a Northern town or hamlet, or city high-rise? The answer must be the experience shared between the unknowing majority (it) and the knowing minority (you).

My last two are edits of a piece I am getting ready for submission:

So, he walked and searched and screamed wordlessly at the night, anguish coated the sound. He’d find the murdering bastard, then he’d take care of the source of his torment.

And a quick update. Tonight is our DFPS Home Study. I’m a nervous wreck, but I think we will do okay. Listening to Maya Angelou last night and a lot of Mozart today has helped me relax a little.

I hope everyone has a great day and for more Two Line Tuesdays head on over to the Women of Mystery.

My Town Monday

Ya'll head on over to Travis Erwin's blog, One Word, One Rung, One Day. He has an absolutely fabulous My Town Monday post up about The American Quarter Horse Hall of Fame & Museum.

3WW Treachery

The prompts at 3WW today are deceit, indulge and oath. I don't know why every Wednesday I am inspired to write about killing someone, but I am. I really don't think I'm a psychotic serial killer. This writing technique, using the last word of the prior sentence to begin the next sentence, was something that we talked about at a writing conference I went to last year. I haven't done a lot with it, but I wanted to today. For more fiction and some amazing poetry check out 3WW. Here is my submission for the week.

Your deceit – your damn treachery – led me to this. This - because you couldn’t just let her go. Go away - how could she have been more important than the mother of your children? Children you swore to love. Love is your unfulfilled promise. Promise - it makes me want to laugh or cry – I’m not sure. Sure, you swore, but your solemn oath isn’t worth the time it took you to work up a fake tear and pledge to me that you wouldn’t see her again. Again you couldn’t help but indulge yourself, could you? You and her in our bed. The bed we created our precious children in. In that bed, I thought we loved, you and I. I could have handled it if you had just taken her and left. Left me alone to try to piece my life back together. Together, the two of you could have made a new life. Life that didn’t include me, or the hurt you left. Left me to hate you, but I still want you. You made this choice. Choices are all I have left of our life. A life that you shattered. Shattered like the mirror behind you did when I fired the gun. The gun that you bought me to protect myself, the children, our home. Our home is defiled – the floor covered in blood. Blood pouring from you. You made me kill you.

Two Fer Tuesday

It is two line Tuesday time again (cue awesome game show music!). I actually wrote about a page and a half this week. How sad is that? I’m excited over a page and a half. I’ve been so busy with work and adoption classes the last two months, I haven’t written anything, and I’m suffering for it. I don’t know about anyone else, but when I’m not able to do something creative (write, play music) I start having weird dreams that progress into nightmares that progress into ‘Crystal hasn’t slept in two weeks and is exhibiting signs of psychosis.’ But, I digress. Right now, I am reading Lora Leigh’s (I wanna be her when I grow up…) Dangerous Games. Here are two wonderful sentences from the book:

There were no words – there was no need for them. As he consumed her kiss, he was consumed in return.

And (drum roll please!) two lines that although not so great right now, actually came out of my head and onto paper – imagine that – me getting to write.

Kellen the Sadist barked out the order and Mariska punched at his left glove, missed and hit him in the stomach. Her wrapped fist met his abdomen with a satisfying smack, but other than a whoosh of air, he didn’t seem to notice.

For more Two Line Tuesday head over and check out the amazing Women of Mystery.

3WW on Thursday - More Content Warning

It is time for another 3WW. The words this week are allure, perch and vivid. Head on over to 3WW for more posts. I know I'm a day late, but I was busy. Please forgive me. Here is the final post for my dark little ditty that I have been working on. And today's is REALLY dark, and has a twist of irony at the end. Isn't that how life always is though, a little irony right at the end?

He followed the murderer and the prostitute a few blocks to a part of town that looked abandoned. He could see the allure in the busted out windows and darkened street lights. No witnesses. He pulled over and stroked the gleaming 9mm resting on the passenger seat, and watched the girl get dragged into the closest building.
Quietly he slunk around the side of the gutted warehouse and risked a quick look in the broken pane of glass. Neither noticed him so he resumed his perch and waited for his heartbeat to slow. His hands shook, and a cold sweat covered his entire body. The grip on his gun was slippery so he wiped his hand off on his trousers and prayed for all he was worth. Was it worth it? Was avenging his sister worth the rest of his life? Risking eternity in Hell?

He blew out a long breath, extended his arm, and let his sight narrow in on the man forcing his cock between the crying girl’s lips. Mascara streaked down her face and he could tell she was struggling to breath. The man jerked her hair and forced her farther down, just as the gun went off.

The bullet ripped through the back of the man’s head, exploding out of his face. Vivid blood coated the whore’s hair, and thicker chunks slid down her cheeks. The man fell and his penis slid from her mouth with a pop, and as soon as she drew a full breath, a scream peireced the night.

He hissed at her to be quiet, but she couldn’t hear over her own panic. She struggled to her feet, leaving a purse filled with condoms behind and ran toward the door they’d entered through. He tried to stop her, he really did, but she wouldn’t listen to him.

What happened next couldn’t have been avoided. She’d ruin everything. Go to the cops, shit, she knew who he was. He didn’t want to do it, but when she wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t stop screaming, he leveled the gun and fired.

Two For Tuesday

We finished! We’re done! Class is over. One last hurdle to jump (the state’s home visit) and we will have a child. I am so giddy I can hardly sit in my chair. I know it isn’t important to anyone else in the world, but I want to shout it out and throw a party and I wish everyone understood how important it is to hubby and I. (Don’t tell him, but I’m still terrified!)

So, on with the Twofers. Super busy week again, but here is something that I wrote, recently:

A badge, clipped at the waist of well worn jeans, shone in the dim light of the lab. The gun on his hip made him look even more dangerous.
And right now I’m reading the absolutely fabulous Beyond Heaving Bosoms: The Smart Bitches’ Guide to Romance Novels by Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan. By the time I read the first page I was laughing out loud. These two are great, and if you haven’t visited their website, head on over. Here are a couple of lines from early on in the book that made me laugh, and even made hubby laugh, and yes, I know it is more than two lines, but I couldn’t help myself:

And then we get to the landscape of paranormals:” Vampires! Werewolves! Vampire werewolves! Mummies! Psychics! The undead! The reanimated! The demonic and the celestial! The slayers, the fey, the wee fold, the fairies, trolls, and selkies. They all fall under “paranormal,” which has its roots in an ancient Greek word meaning “overcrowded genre.”

For way more Two Sentence Tuesday, make the short trek over to visit the Women of Mystery!

3WW - Content Warning

It's time for another 3 Word Wednesday. The prompts this week were: Flirt, Ploy and Stunning.

I'm still trying to let my "hero" finish his story and get revenge. I think this is going to have to be the next to last installment for him. He's very dark, and way too obsessed. This weeks clip is a little more explicit, but he's very close to the killer. Don't read this if you are offended easily, please. Otherwise, enjoy at your own risk.


He watched the working girl flirt for over an hour before the one he was looking for showed up. Not a stunning girl by any means, life on the streets sucked all the pretty out of her a long time ago.

The longer he watched, though, the more attractive she got. He knew his obsession was going to kill him, but what did he have to live for anyway?

His precious little wife had moved on and was screwing her divorce lawyer, and his two kids couldn’t wait to leave when he had them on his bi-weekly visits. They hid in their rooms playing video games and on the phone, and at 6:00 on Sunday would be waiting by the door, crap packed in their suitcases, ready to go back to grandma’s house.

Life sucked at this point. But watching the prostitute flash her saggy breasts and offer dates to anonymous men for a few bucks, and finding it a turn on, made him realize just how low he’d sunk. Her ploy wasn’t even that great. Flash them some T & A and expect them to cough up the money, but by the sheer number of trips around the block to the alley she made, he knew she must be doing pretty good. He wondered what she considered a good night. Twenty tricks? Fifty?

He’d been talking to the girl for a few weeks now. She’d been in the park. She’d seen the sick son of a bitch rape and kill his sister and had been too scared to do anything about it. He’d wanted to kill her, but couldn’t bring himself to wring her scrawny little neck. So, they worked out a deal. He’d watch her at night and if the guy showed back up she’d give him a signal – drop her purse and let all of the condoms fall on the ground. He thought it was stupid, but couldn’t come up with a better idea. She’d seen it on an episode of Cops.

As soon as the dark sedan pulled up, her purse hit the ground. Gold wrapped Trojans and flavored Lifestyles littered the sidewalk, and her eyes were wide with panic. Still, he waited until she picked up all her party favors and got in the car with the psycho bastard. He was probably letting her screw her way to a death sentence but he didn’t care at this point.

The engine in his twenty year old Toyota coughed and sputtered to life before he pulled into traffic and followed the dark sedan. What the hell was he doing? He had a degree in accounting for Christ’s sake. He wasn’t a cop. He wasn’t a P.I., but here he was following the man who had probably killed his sister and the prostitute that had given him a blow job to save her own life.

Visit 3WW for more pieces featuring today's prompts!

Two Line Tuesday

Happy Tuesday! This week has been a little better, so far, than last week. I’ve had a little breathing room, but the stress is already snowballing. Hubby and I have to attend a psychotropic drug class tonight and the health inspector is coming to our house on Thursday and on Friday, hubby goes to have his FBI fingerprinting done. We went through the cabinets this weekend to check expiration dates and to see if we had any dented cans. Things like hamburger helper and Vienna sausages, you know, the things that you think should outlive a nuclear blast, well, not so much. Our cabinets are empty. The refrigerator won’t take too long, we are eating leftovers like there is no tomorrow to get rid of them (I hate leftovers, by the way, so this is some kind of torture.) After that, we have one last class on Monday night, then a full day of classes on Saturday the 18th. Following that, we should have our big home study and be ready to rock and roll. I’m excited, scared, nervous, stressed, euphoric, you name an extreme emotion, I’m pretty sure I have been there in the last six weeks.

So, the last two lines I read are from Chelsea Cain’s Heart Sick. I really like this book, it is interesting.

Henry looked at Archie, holding his gaze for a moment, then turned his shaved head back toward Gretchen. He still had his meaty fist around her slender wrist, and for a moment Susan thought he might just snap it in two.
And the last two lines I wrote this week were for an article that will be published at the end of this month about an AQHA Hall of Fame member.

On his 14 Ranch, Walter Merrick produced some of the top running American Quarter Horses of all time. Merrick has been quoted as saying, “We raise the horses we run and run the horses we raise.”

For more Two Line Tuesday, head over to the Women of Mystery. Hope you have a great day!

Sunday Scribblings on Monday

I'm a little slow at this, but on Sundays, I don't ever really look at the computer. Anyways, the prompt over at Sunday Scribblings is: What have you got to celebrate. I have a lot.

I need to remember to celebrate more often. The list of things to celebrate in my life is endless. I have an amazing family, who loves and cares for me no matter what. I have a husband who takes care of me when I’m sick, lifts me up when I’m down and loves me when I feel unlovable. I have a good, stable job in the midst of an economic crisis. I have an old house that I love, even if the paint on almost every wall is a boring cream color. I have pets that shower me with affection. I have friends… friends that are the most amazing people in the world. I have my health, even when my back hurts and my sinuses are backed up into my brain. I have a car that will make it to and from work everyday, and keep me warm or cool. I have enough money in the bank to pay my bills on time every month with a little left over to play. I have the amazing opportunity to adopt a child that needs all the love that my husband and I can give him. I am able to see my friends’ children and share in the joy they have in them. I am able to spend time with the ones I love. I am warm, I am fed, I am clothed, and I am loved. I should celebrate every minute I’m able to draw a breath.

Two For Tuesday

I haven’t had a whole lot of time to read fiction lately. We have been doing a lot of reading for class. The last I read was last night, and it was on signs and identifying children who have been victims of sexual abuse, so, I am going to skip the last two lines read part. I had nightmares all night.

Skipping forward, I haven’t written a lot lately, I’m trying, I really am, but by the time I get sat down to start, I’m physically and emotionally drained. But, here are a couple of sentences from a previous chapter, and yes, I cheated, there are three.

He thought of those lush pink lips and immediately started to sweat. She was all deep eyes, plump lips and rich, dark hair. It made him glad to be a single, healthy male.

For more Two Sentence Tuesday, head over and visit the Women of Mystery.

Sunday Scribblings on a Windy Monday

The prompt at Sunday Scribblings today is: Well, we're all as old as we have ever been, and we're all at different stages of considering the aging process. What thoughts do you have on the subject?

I’m older than I ever thought I would be. I feel older than I am some days, and others, I don’t know how old I really am. Life is funny that way. Sometimes things happen, and weigh a person down, dragging at their hopes and dreams, until all they feel is lonely, detached and hollow. Days like those are when I feel the oldest. I ache those days, not just mentally, but physically I hurt. Then there are times when life goes your way. You waste a dollar on a scratch off lottery ticket and have to rush home and wake your husband up from his nap to confirm that you did just win $250. Days when the sunshine rains down on your, the air is calm and you can take a break to play with your dog in the backyard, those are the young days. The day you cross the street to go swing in the park and your husband pushes you higher and higher, when you lean back and get dizzy from staring up at the swaying sky, those are the carefree days – days when the world doesn’t strike out at you. Dizzy, sunny, laughing days.

You're Good For My Ego

I just have to say that being on here has been great for my writing ego. I know every writer goes through times when they feel like they aren't good enough, I feel that way frequently, but then I write something quick and dirty for a blog on here and the comments I get back are amazing, even if they sometimes sting a little. So, I just want to say thanks! You are all awesome!

3WW x 2

Since I was out of town last week, I used last week's three words and this week's three words for today's post. For more three worded fun head over to 3WW and see what everyone else is writing. Again, this is a continuation on the last two 3WWs.
Last weeks words were: burden, natural, ubiquitous. This weeks are: earnest, layer, and reactive.

The burden of finding the slaughterer of innocence rested heavy on his shoulders. His earnest search uncovered layers of hidden flotsam and jetsam and the ubiquitous fear that he would never avenge her haunted him. The fact that his life had become a reactive routine bothered him less than the reality of his liability in his sister’s death. The rage tearing at his guts night after night had become completely natural to him. The only thing that had pulled him out of his pattern in the last weeks had been his wife’s abandonment. She couldn’t live with the new hollow out version of the man she’d married. He couldn’t work up enough emotion to shed even a single tear when she’d taken the kids and gone to her mother’s. Let them live with the bitch for a few weeks. By the time they came back, he’d take care of the murdering trash that killed his sister. By then, there might not be anything left for them to come back to. If he didn’t find something to fill up the void left in his soul soon, the insanity he’d been holding back for weeks would take over and nothing would matter.

I'm BACK!

I have never been so glad to be in an airplane as I was on Friday night. We landed at about 8:15, my amazing hubby was waiting for me at the gate. We went and visited my parents and my brothers who were both home from college, then...we went to Hastings for the midnight release.

Don't tell me you don't know what midnight release. Twilight. I'll say it again and again, it's not a 'cult,' it's a following. I'm sticking to that. And yes, I dragged my weary self with luggage into our house at a little after one in the morning. Threw my suitcase on the couch, pulled the movie out of the bag, ripped that puppy open, stuck it into the DVD player in the bedroom and fell asleep listening to the dulcet tones of Edward. (I think hubby may banish this movie from the sleepy time routine!)

Saturday, oh Saturday, what the hell did we do on Saturday? Oh, yeah, hubby had a hockey game and my youngest brother and I taped and painted the living room. Well, half of it anyways, it's going to be two colors. Sunday, finished painting the living room and touching up the hallway, it is so pretty. Then, I got to go and buy new clothes. How fun is that.

I'm still super exhausted from a week in El Paso. It wasn't a bad place to visit, but I wouldn't want to stay for any real length of time. There are some shady characters there. I got to visit some amazing museum's and eat the best food I've ever had (I love all things hot and spicy), but I was more than ready to come home.

So how did everyone else spend their spring break?

Five Fabulous Blogs

Here are the rules:
You must include the person that gave you the award, and link it back to them.
You must list 5 of your Fabulous Addictions in the post. You must copy and paste these rules in the post. Right click the award icon & save to your computer then post with your own awards.

My five obsessions as:

1. My amazing hubby.
2. My family.
3. My Writing.
4. Books.
5. Learning.

And my Five Fab Blogs:
1. One Word, One Rung, One Day
2. A Day In The Life
3. Women of Mystery
4. Attack of The Redneck Mommy
5. I Need My Wit To Kick In

(Of course, there are many other good ones too, so don't hesitate to check out all the links.)

Purple prose on crack

This is what happens when metaphors go feral. I think my brain may have exploded. It make me feel MUCH better about what I write though. Seriously, pop on over and take a look. You'll understand. Take some ibuprofen with you, I promise, you'll need it!

The Reader - A Book Review in Threes

I was asked by a few of you to give a review of The Reader by Bernhard Schlink. So, here it is in a shamelessly stolen format. Thanks, Travis! (Go visit Travis’ blog, it’s awesome!)

The Reader is the story of a young Michael Berg. At fifteen he gets sick on his way home from school, and is rescued by Hanna, a woman more than twice his age. They become lovers until she disappears.

Michael is haunted by Hanna’s disappearance and compares every lover he has to her, and none measure up to Hanna. Years later, Michaels sees Hanna again. He is a law student sitting in on a case of Nazi guards accused of horrible crimes, and she is one of the defendants. During the trial, she refuses to defend herself against the accusations. Michael becomes obsessed with her, but is confused by the inconsistencies of her testimony. He knows she is hiding something.

After the trial, Michael is consumed by his thoughts of Hanna, until he figures out a way to continue their relationship, and to try to put the past to rest.

3 Reasons To Like This Book:

1. The Reader is a quick read, it took me about a day, but it is still emotionally engaging.

2. There is a lot of literature dealing with WWII, but most is from the Jewish and Polish perspective. There isn’t a lot about post-war Germany. The Reader shows a slice of the emotions and reasoning from a character that is passionate about the wrongs done by his country, but also conflicted about his feeling for one of the perpetrators.

3.The book is filled with deeper themes – Michael and Hanna’s relationship, the impact of the Nazis on Germany, how love and loss change a person. Because all of these themes are brought about subtly, it doesn’t feel like you are being beat over the head with them.

3 Reasons Not To Like This Book:

1. The author is very descriptive and occasionally talks in circles, making some passages overly descript and almost confusing.

2. You don’t enjoy reading in the first person. This annoys some people since they don’t know what other characters are thinking and feeling. With this book, you only get Michael Berg’s perspective on things.

3. You aren’t interested in the far reaching ramifications of war, or don’t like well written, sensitive reading material.

3 Lines beginning with the 3rd sentence on page 33 of the novel:

I don’t mean to say she lacked tenderness and didn’t give me pleasure. But she did it for her own playful enjoyment, until I learned to take possession of her too. That came later.

There was a sentence in the book that was incredibly powerful for me. It is on the next to last page of the novel and sums up life, love and loss very well.

The tectonic layers of our lives rest so tightly one on top of the other that we always come up against earlier events in later ones, not as matter that has been fully formed and pushed aside, but absolutely present and alive.

3WW

Today's words, furnished by 3WW were: Cajole, temper and recluse. I chose to do a continuation of last week's 3WW. It is dark too.

The pain, the rage, the guilt – it ate at his soul. Night after night, he rambled through the park. Seeking out the recluses hidden in deep, dark places. Cardboard surrounded barrels of fire. The smell of wasted hope and unfulfilled dreams suffocating in the black pool of despair. Pieces of his soul withered and died every time these unseen people denied him entrance. They tempered refusal with sorrow, but none of that helped him. He had to find the refuse of humanity that had taken his sister. The scrap of a man that had spoiled the one spark of light left in his life. He tried to cajole the dismal outsiders into giving him any hint of where the murderer had gone. When that didn’t work, he flashed the burnished chrome-plated Smith and Wesson. The effort was futile – they’d scattered like fragments of a nightmare, scurrying off to dark corners. The police wouldn’t help him, vigilante justice was beneath them. The hidden society of humanity, living on castoffs of society wouldn’t help him, he wasn’t of their community. So, he walked, and searched, and screamed wordlessly at the night, anguish coating the sound. He’d take care of the murdering bastard. Then, he’d take care of the source of his torment.

For more fun and games, go visit 3WW and check out what others have written.

Two Line Tuesday

So, I haven’t written anything this week, I’ve been too busy with classes, but here are two random sentences from the last few pages I wrote:

“Why would you want me to go to the gym with you? Last time was a disaster. I limped for two weeks.”

“Detective Dawson goes to the gym every morning. Here’s your chance to see him all hot and sweaty.” Serena waggled her eyebrows.

I’m about to start reading The Reader by Bernhard Schlink. The first two sentences of the book are:

When I was fifteen, I got hepatitis. It started in the fall and lasted until spring.

On a personal note, our first home inspection is this coming Monday. I’m still scared, but am working on calming down.

For class we had to do a detailed family tree, and I never realized before that my family breeds like rabbits - there was a population explosion during the 90s.

Karin’s beautiful baby turns one year old on the 16th, and I got some WAY cute stuff for him.

My brother-in-law and his wife are still doing well with her pregnancy and Kaden is due June 11th. I got some WAY cute stuff for him as well.

Our last class is on April 13th. By then we will be licensed and ready to go. We learned a little about the process last night and it is much faster than what I thought, but not as fast as I’d hoped.

I’ll be out of town next week, starting on Tuesday. I’ll miss you guys, but I have to go to El Paso for a week and hang out with other museum type people. Okay, I know, we're museum geeks.

Send good thoughts our way, we need all the luck we can get!

For more two line fun head over to The Women of Mystery and The Education of a Pulp Writer.

Three Word Wednesday

So, over at 3WW, today's words are: Avenge, Genuine, Ramble.

Here is my attempt with those three. A little dark, a little mysterious, possibly a good start to my next MS. I like this one, and had a great time writing it!

The need to avenge his sister’s murder was a genuine rage under his skin, biting and burning, until it led to his ramble around the park. Searching for the monster that killed her, night after night, brought him some measure of relief from the pain and anger, but nothing eased the guilt that ate at his gut. It was his fault she was dead. His fault she’d been wandering around after dark, crying, drunk. It was his fault someone had attacked her and left her to bleed to death, laying on the path near the rhododendrons. If he hadn’t told her the man she thought was her father, the man that raised her and loved her, wasn’t really her father, she wouldn’t have left to go have a drink or two at the bar. She’d been smart enough to know she couldn’t drive herself home, but not smart enough to call a cab. She’d been easy prey for the thief, or rapist or murderer. Whatever you want to call him. The mud caked in her nostrils said he forced her face down in the flowerbed, the torn clothing said he forced himself on her, and the fact that her wallet was missing said he forced her to give it to him, or maybe he’d just taken it after he stabbed her. It didn’t matter now. Once he found the monster that killed his sister, it would be over. All the pain, all the rage, all the guilt. He’d take care of it all.

Two Line Tuesday

I made my deadline for the contest! Thanks to everyone who asked. I didn't get the short story finished, but that means I will have it ready for next years contest, oh well. I haven't had a whole lot of time lately to do much reading, but I am going to start a new "need to read" today. It is Kim Harrison's White Witch, Black Curse. I love reading her books. She is a lot of fun and pulls you into a great fantasy world.



So, the first two lines of the book are:

The bloody handprint was gone, wiped from Kisten's window but not from my memory, and it ticked me off that someone had cleaned it, as if they were trying to steal what little recollection I retained about the night he'd died. the anger was misplaced fear if I was honest with myself.

I haven't written much this week either. But the last two lines I wrote are:

Mariska’s laughter died in her throat when she looked across the gym and saw Kellen staring at her, face intent and serious. She shivered when he strode toward her, stopping less than a foot away.

For more two line fun, head over to the Women of Mystery.

Three Word Wednesday

Today's words posted over at 3WW were: Callous, Interfere, Persistant


We are persistent, continuing despite the problems facing us - incessant, unrelenting, determined and relentless. We won’t give up even though the world around us is callous. It is a hard hearted, cold, unfeeling place that we want to bring joy into. Even if you interfere, no matter how you meddle and hinder us, we will endure.

Obviously, I am feeling optomistic today, as shocking as that may be. I have to write my synopsis today... I'm a slacker and blew it off until three days before the entry has to be postmarked. Wish me luck, and check back later, I'm sure I'll need some good advice on it. I'll try to get it posted later this morning!

Ha! I love this!

I found this at failblog. You should go and check them out!!!


see more pwn and owned pictures

Two Line Tuesday

It’s time for fabulous Two Line Tuesday!

I am reading the third book in Christina Dodd’s Darkness series, Into the Shadow. I enjoy reading her books because her hero’s are very tortured and her heroines are incredibly strong women. Her books make me laugh and bring me to tears, often within the same paragraph.

I’ve only read a few pages of this book, actually I’m re-reading them (need to cut back on my book buying binges!), and at this point in the story we are being introduced to the heroine and her life. Karen Sonnet builds adventure hotels for her father. The hotels are located all over the world, where ever there is an attraction for the extreme sports/survivalist set to go. The setting is near the Nepal border in the Himalayas – a particularly nasty mountain named Mount Anaya.

Karen tried never to look at Mount Anaya, but as always the peak drew her gaze – up the side of the hill, up the sheer stone slopes, up the glaciers and snowfields, to the top of Mount Anaya. There the pinnacle stabbed the blue sky with a point of white and gray. Mountains, all mountains, formed the stuff of her nightmares, but Mount Anaya…In Sanskrit, it meant “evil course.”

As for what I’m writing right now, other than filling out endless paperwork for the state (keep repeating… it’s worth it, it’s worth it, it’s worth it), I am to the point that my hero and heroine are about to (ahem) hit it off. They are in a gym, working out, all hot and sweaty, and Kellen is watching Mariska learn self defense.

Mariska picked up the basic self defense moves quickly and was soon holding her own against the other woman, but he’d spotted a weakness in her technique after a few minutes. Every time her opponent came at her, Mariska would flinch away before answering the attack, costing her precious seconds.
So that’s it for this week. Hope you enjoyed it. For more Two Line Tuesday, head over to the Women of Mystery and the Education of a Pulp Writer.

Zombie Romance

Over at Smart Bitches, Trashy Books, there is a little contest going on.

The rules are simple:

1. Use the random generator to create the title of your blockbuster screenplay.
2. In 25 words or less, pitch your screenplay.

Oh, you have 24 hours and it is really weird paranormal romance. I entered, yes I did. Here are the others I came up with that were too fun not to share.

Natural Born Charmer with Talking Cabbages

Samuel, the first male witch in millennia, can’t control his blooming powers. Can Andra save him from the talking cabbages he keeps zapping into existence?

Dreaming of you with Loquacious Sirens

Trey loves Lisa. The only problem - she never shuts up and lures unsuspecting sailors to their watery graves. Can he make it work?

Persuasion with Suspicious Carbuncles

Weird things happen when Sandra receives a mysterious ruby. Will Milo steal her heart or the gemstone before midnight strikes and its powers are unlocked?

Dream Man with Hormonal Pixies

Marcus is Lila’s fantasy man – but her fantasy never included cranky pixies or cantankerous elves. Can their love overcome the mythical madness and mayhem?

Here is the one I entered:

Something Wonderful with Massage Therapist Poltergeists

Willow, a werewolf, never gave love a thought until she sprained her back. Can she trust her heart and pained muscles to a dead man?


So, if you think you can do it head on over to Smart Bitches, Trashy Books and give it a shot. 25 words or less is harder than it sounds!!!

3WW and More

Today's three words are Candid, Impulse and Risk. Here's a bit of flash fiction.

I knew the risk involved before I took the assignment. It was going to be difficult to find a way in – he had too much security surrounding him night and day.

The first time I opened the file my handler gave me, the impulse to tell him to find someone else was strong. It contained a brief bio on the target, height, weight, occupation, two professionally posed photos and three candid shots. Even with the bare facts given to me, I knew who he was.

Who in their right mind would try to remove this man? Everyone knew his name, his face, his voice.

I knew the risks. I took the assignment anyway. Two months of careful planning and here I am, behind this monstrosity they call a camera, waiting.

A director cues up the lights and music. The familiar theme rings in my ears. The first contestant enters from stage left. She performed her heart out only to be abused by the target. I must be crazy, but here goes nothing. Wish me luck.


I felt evil just writing it. For more three word fun, visit 3WW.

And Travis did something fun on his blog today so I stole the idea and am using it on mine. (I'm pretty sure he'll forgive me!)

The prompt was 3 lines beginning with the 3rd sentance of page 33.
So, here are 3 lines from Christina Dodd's Scent of Darkness.

Yet she could see nothing of the grain of the wood or its luster, and the massive brass lion's-head knocker was only a glint in the darkness. Finding the small button on the trim, she pressed it. The chimes rang inside. No one answered.

I know, I know, that's four, but I couldn't leave out the last part! For more three line insanity, head over to Travis' blog.

Two Line Tuesday

It’s that time again. Two Sentence Tuesday!!

So, last time I was reading Christina Dodd’s Scent of Darkness. I put that down and read a few (okay three) other books, but now am back to reading it again. The last two sentences I read were:

He didn’t take over, but she saw his eyes, he wanted to. Oh, my God, he wanted to.

She’s having a good day. He’s having a good day. And here are the last two lines I wrote…fair warning, I’m writing erotica (but this is reasonably tame!):

His cock grew hard and felt like it was trying to punch its way out from behind his zipper. He looked down and tried to concentrate on anything other than the curve of her ass, the line of her legs and the dip of her back.

Hopefully they will both be having a good day VERY SOON! I’ve been so busy lately that I really haven’t had any time to write, but I hope things calm down in a short while.

Have a great day! And for more Tuesday fun head over to The Women of Mystery!

Bad Girl Monday

Today’s Bad Girl Calendar Entry

Bad Girl Business Lingo 101


I’d like to build on your point… = I disagree, but you’re my boss.
We’re launching another major initiative = Your life will be a nightmare for the next six months.
I was out doing competitive research = I was shopping.
We need to think outside the box = We’re desperate.
Thanks, I’ll take that into consideration = Your ideas are stupid and you don’t matter.
We’ll do some qualitative research = I’ll ask my wife.
This is mission critical = Your ass is on the line.
Due diligence! = I have an MBA!
CC me on everything = I don’t trust you for a second.
We have a change in strategy = We have no idea what we’re doing.


So, that is today’s to do list – learn to translate the Buzzwords. We start our classes tomorrow night and I am still a little bit freaked out. The In-Laws and I got into it this weekend because I don’t want the entire family knowing what is going on right now, and they think I should take out a billboard evidently. I feel bad that I am this upset with them… I love them a tremendous amount, but they can’t see my point. One phone call is all it would take to ruin our chances. I’m not secure enough right now to allow that to happen. So, everyone can be mad at me as long as they keep their mouths shut.

I had a dream last night that left me in tears this morning… good tears, but still tears… I don’t know how to feel about it, but I am trying to work through that. Wish hubby and I luck with class tomorrow. I think he is almost as nervous as I am.

Love in All its Forms

One of my favorite movie quotes is from the Lord of the Rings.

“I would rather spend one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone.”

When I look back at myself as a teenager, I realize I was in love with being in love. The newness of a relationship – the first kiss, the first touch, the first argument – all put together to form the fiery first blush of what I thought was love.

In college, I thought I fell in love. My best friend and I snuck down the halls and peeked in the classroom door to see the guy she had deemed perfect for me. She was wrong, but still we married. It was fiery in a totally different way. We fought, we screamed, we hurt each other. We did things that could never be taken back. I’m just as guilty as he was, just in a different way. It ended soon and badly.

Then, I introduced the same best friend to the guy I thought was perfect for her. He was for a while. Together they had two beautiful sons, who showed me a whole new dimension of love. The kind that wraps itself around your heart and holds on forever. Recently, my friend realized that after nearly a decade, she wasn’t IN love with her husband any more. It broke my heart, but I understood.

In 2001, while working nights in the Emergency Room, the two nurses I work with, decided I didn’t need to be alone. They thought I needed a man. Now, I have to describe these nurses to you for you to understand how laughable the situation really was. The first, we’ll call him Dave, was an ex-Army Ranger. A mountain of a man with thick black hair, graying at the temples, and a beard rivaling Paul Bunyan. He routinely scared patients, which is why he worked weekend nights with me, he could handle the bullshit and drunks. The other, I’ll change his name to Drew to protect his innocence, was over six and a half feet tall, had long hair, and was VERY into martial arts.

One night, I caught them online, switching screens whenever I walked into the room. I was curious, but not enough to take on the big guys. I waited until they were out of the room, each with patients, and took a quick peek at what they were so involved in on the computer. Imagine my shock when I found my picture, along with a description (which was very flattering and only about half true) on a personals site. I know I blushed four shades of red when I realized they had…enhanced my natural attributes.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They had taken out a personal ad for me, and were screening prospective dates. There were hundreds of messages in the mail box, ranging from sarcastic to utterly humiliating. I waited until they were both in the room and tore into them.

A week later, when we were all on shift together again, they apologized, which amazed me, and told me they had found the “perfect” guy for me. I laughed and told them I thought they were full of it, no one could a.) find me the “perfect” guy, and b.) they dang sure couldn’t do it on the internet.

I had to eat those words just a few weeks later. They, posing as me, emailed back and forth with “perfect” guy, until they were satisfied he was good enough for me, then told me they had set up a date for me the next day. I called a good friend, a very tall, very male friend, and asked if he’d ever heard of “perfect” guy. Not only had he heard of him, he’d gone to school with his brother. “He’s a good guy. What can it hurt to go out with him? One time.”

Okay, I know when I am outnumbered, but I had rules. One: We were going to meet in a public place, with a lot of people. Two: I was bringing reinforcements in the form of my two brothers and the very tall very male friend. Three: I could leave at any time with out without notice.

So, I loaded up my two brothers, one of whom is a multiple black belt and was the youngest inductee into the Combat Karate Hall of Fame, my friend and we headed to the busiest place in Small Town, Texas on a Thursday night. The local pool hall.

There he was, sitting at the bar (that didn’t serve alcohol), drinking a coke, watching all the cowboys and college kids goofing around the pool tables. My friend pointed me in the right direction, snagged a couple pool cues and headed to a table with my brothers. They left me standing, alone, in the middle of an obnoxious crowd. I could run if I wanted too, and the urge was strong.

He spotted me, we talked, and talked, and talked, and made a date for the following night. A few weeks later, I broke the news to him that I wasn’t who’d set up the personal ad and that he’d been conversing with two big hairy men for a month. He was appropriately shocked, then the next night, he showed up at the ER with dinner for me and thanked the guys and shook their hands. He then threatened them if they ever did that to me again.

Six months later we were married, and hubby is the most amazing guy I have ever known. So, Dave and Drew were right. Hubby is the “perfect” guy for me. Next time I’m in Small Town, Texas, I’ll have to go by and tell them thanks one more time.

3WW

Thoughts in disarray
Disorganized
Pushing down my throat
Gagging me on apprehension
Pulling my heart
Compelling me to look at innocence
Forcing their way through the rabble
Unruly
Offensive
No one to validate my fears
Afraid of falling
Trembling through my limbs
Assuming the care of another

For more of Three Word Wednesday check out 3WW

Two Line Tuesday

The last two lines I read came from my “Bad Girls” desk calendar, and it was too funny not to share (there are three lines, sorry!)

Pretend to know – look it up in the dictionary later.

If it isn’t true love and it isn’t great sex, it isn’t worth your time.

Chain letters and emails are a complete waste of time, unless they affect luck, love life, or length of orgasm.


They made me laugh, and I really needed it today. The last two lines I wrote (yesterday in the car with my boss on our way to a meeting in Lubbock….)

Her skin prickled when she realized he wasn’t speaking any more. Mariska looked up and met Kellen’s eyes – his stare was too intent.



On a personal note: Two of the members of my critique group don’t think Kellen’s name is manly enough. They think I need a strong one syllable name… Jake, John, Bruce… I can’t stand any of those three. Any opinions?

Tonight is the first adoption meeting. I’m terrified. What if we aren’t good enough? What if our house isn’t nice enough? What if we don’t make enough money? What if? What if? What if? I have stressed myself out for a week about this. Hubby is cool and collected – ready to go. I’m a freaking mess, can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t think, can’t write. All I can do reasonably well right now is obsessively clean. And I live in a dog hair factory, so there is a lot to clean every day!

For more Two for Tuesdays head over to:
The Education of a Pulp Writer,
Women of Mystery,
A Day In The Life, Barbara Martin

Polished shoes

I meet many people in my line of work, and yesterday I met a man that inspired me. His appearance struck me so much that I couldn’t stop making up stories about him in my head.

The man, I didn’t ask his name, was in his mid-50’s I would guess. Balding on top, his curly black hair reached his shoulders in the back. He wore a nice suit, but it was tailored to a man smaller than him. The front gaped between the buttons, and the pants were a full three inches too short. His shirt collar was ragged from being pressed too many times, and the shirt itself was a shade somewhere between pink and tan.

Socks showed plainly under the hem of his trousers, and they were mismatched. One was a navy blue, the other a pale gray.

His shoes caught my attention. The black loafers he wore were polished to a mirror shine. The soles were dark black, and not one scuff mark could be found on them.

I wondered where this man called home, if he had a home. I imagined him sitting in a smoke filled bar, because the scent of whiskey laced his breath. I speculated on a family long gone and a loneliness that haunted his soul.

When I got in bed last night, his image troubled me and I began to describe him to my drowsy husband. When I told him about the man’s shoes, he stopped me.

“He must have been military.” The words rumbled out in rough sleepiness.

Then, in my mind, I saw him. Polishing his boots, putting on a uniform and fighting for what he believed in. Seconds later, I saw him coming home to a wife and small children who couldn’t understand why daddy had nightmares. The wife couldn’t comprehend the horrors he refused to share with her. Then I saw her pack the kids in the car, look at him one last time and drive away to her mother’s.

The last image that raced through my mind was of his tears, his endless shoe polishing, and his retreat into a bottle.

All this from his shoes.

3WW

I am going to try to do 3 Word Wednesday. This week's words are: crumple, illicit and nerve. Here goes nothing!

Sarah crumpled to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. Blue eyes, piercing as a laser watched her from across the room.

“You’ve done it this time.” Marcus paced from one end of the room to the other, his steps soundless on the plush carpet. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

“How? Who told you?” She scrubbed her hands across her face.

“Does it matter? I know about your affair. After the last time, I thought you would have learned your lesson, but I guess I was wrong.” Light sparkled off the glass he filled with bourbon. “I’m done. I’m taking the kids and filing for a divorce.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can’t? Sarah, honey, save the drama for your career, not our living room.”

“I’ll be crucified in the press.”

“I know. I can already see the headlines. TV’s Top Mom Embroiled in Illicit Affair.” His chuckle was bitter.

“Don’t do this to me. I won’t allow you to take my children.” Sarah pushed herself off the floor and shoved a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

“You have some nerve, lady. I’ve been the perfect celebrity husband for you for ten years. I stood behind you when you got in trouble with the IRS, I was there for you when you had to go into rehab for your little cocaine problem, hell, I even stayed after the first affair, but not any more. This is the last time I’ll play the forgiving husband role.”

The slamming door sounded like a gunshot in her ears. She watched as the bourbon left in his glass stilled before following him out the door.

Two Line Tuesday

I am re-reading Christina Dodd's Scent of Darkness (she has great love scenes!). Here are the last two I read:

The Szarvases were artists of some note - Sharon painted amazing landscapes; River and their daughter, Meadow, fashioned beautiful, magnificent workds in glass - and every night the floors of their rambling old house and their barn studio were full of sleeping bags and cots as other artists, young and old, came to learn and to serve as apprentices at the feet of their masters. The master artists used all their money to pay for food, blankets, heat and teachers for their students.

And the last two I wrote are:

The slam of a car door echoed in the quiet tree lined darkness. When the engine roared to life, Mariska spun and flipped off the driver. The window whirred down quickly, “You bitch! You really are a piece of work.”

Weird Wednesday

Today is critique day… I’m actually really excited this time. I’ve got about 22 pages ready. I’m so glad I put the other manuscript away and started work on this one. Maybe in six months I can go back and pick it up with fresh eyes and make it happen.

It has been an eventful week for me. I got a lot written, I did our taxes, wrote another article and read a little. Good news though, we are getting a decent refund on our taxes this year. Not as much as I had hoped, but it’s not a sharp stick in the eye.

Where do phrases like that come from? I’ve heard some weird ones lately…

Better than a sharp stick in the eye. - I guess that means it is a good thing, because I’d be all ready to kick some booty if someone put a sharp stick in my eye, well, after I got serious medical attention.

Useless as tits on a boar hog. (I really hate this one.) – Not good for anything, because the boar is the male of the species and we all know that the female feeds the young and is FAR superior than the male. Heh! That makes me giggle.

Lazy as a turd in a whale. – This must be extremely lazy, because the digestive tract in a whale is huge.

Lasts as long as a fart in a whirlwind. – Not long I’m assuming. Wind speed and all that.

These two came from Ande

Take a flying leap at a rolling donut. – Really? I don’t get it… Someone else will have to explain this one to me.

You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him turn on the faucet. – Nope, they don’t have thumbs…

These two came from Shannon

Your ass is grass and I’m the lawnmower. – This makes me think of M. Night Shamalan…

Is that clear as mud? – Umm… sure.

Slicker than bull snot. – Just gross.

Karin sent me these two:

Hotter than two rats having sex in a wool sock.

Nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

I think all of these are hilarious, but I would love to know who the first person to say them was. Can you imagine the looks he/she got?

Any others out there? I’d love to hear them!

2 Fer 2sday

Today’s lines come from Ted Dekker’s Saint.

“Good. The winner will be freed and given a knife. The next one to succeed will be armed with a handgun and will hunt the winner until one of you is either killed or incapacitated. The third will be left in the crate an additional five minutes and then taken to the infirmary.”

Carl dropped the binoculars on the sandbag and picked up his rifle.

And my most recent lines are:

“Uh, sure. Every puzzle – every code – has a key, or system that it’s built on. Take the alphabet for example. If you assign each letter a number, A is one, B is two, C is three and so on, you have a very simple code.”

He still looked confused. “Really?”

“Yes. If we continued the sequence and replace the letters of your name with numbers, it would be 11-5-12-12-5-14.”

“If that’s all it is, then why does your software need so long to decode it?”

She smiled. “Like I said, that was a very simple code, and computers think in only two numbers, zero and one. The software’s trying billions of patterns filled with zeros and ones to find the one that fits and unlocks the encryption.”

“The key.” He smiled and it softened his intensity. “Okay, well let me know when you have something for me.”

“You got it.” She watched him leave, appreciating the view, and got back to work.

I know it is more than two lines, but I don’t know if this is how I want to end my chapter or not. The code she talks about HAS to be in there, it is important later, but something in here is really bothering me…

Any thoughts?

Adoption

My heart is breaking. Hubby and I are about to start the long journey of adoption, and I was on the TARE website, and the sheer numbers of children up for adoption, just in Texas makes me want to cry.

It makes me thankful for the family I have and how amazing and supportive they are.

If you have children, please take a little extra time and hug them today. Let them know they are loved and appreciated.

And, please pray for us in our journey. We need all the strength and friendship we can get.

Fabulous Friday!

I have AWESOME hair. I got it cut and colored last night. Way freaking expensive, but in the seven years me and hubby have been married, I’ve only done it one other time.

What does it look like, you ask. Well, think Alice from the Twilight movie. With kick bootie light red streaks. I love it and look totally different. It’s amazing what a good haircut can do for your self esteem.

Happy Friday all! Oh, and here are a couple more FAIL pics. Enjoy!

They did it!

'Kay, so I said I needed cheering up and the girls at work did it with a series of pictures. Here is a sampling. HaHa!





And my personal favorite! (I'm wicked evil)

So annoyed

Do you ever have one of those days where everything goes your way? You have a wonderful day, get lots accomplished, like, oh, say writing 18 pages of decent story, have an awesome critique group, They Like It They Like It, then you get home.

The dog peed in the floor while hubby sat with my laptop watching hockey fights. He’s obviously in a bad mood, not speaking, just kind of glowering in my direction. I clean up the mess, and thinking it would be easier to just leave him alone and let him get over whatever has his shorts in a twist, I sat down on the couch to read a few chapters…

Evidently that was a bad idea.

As we went to bed for the night, things only got worse. I don’t know what I said or what I did that made him SO angry, but last night was one of those really really long nights. No sleep for me.

He’s fine this morning, and it is my turn to be pissed. I’ve had no sleep, got my rear end chewed repeatedly last night, and I’m just in a foul mood.

I checked all the blogs I follow this morning and wouldn’t you know, not a single funny one posted yet. They all seem to be politically based this morning.

Somebody PLEASE post a funny today! I am in desperate need!

Weird Wednesday Dream

The dream started out innocently enough, I was trying to bathe my cat. Never a good idea, I know, but he stunk. Things are rocking right along until I look around and realize the bathroom we’re in is bigger than my entire house and decorated in 1970’s old lady – all pastels and lamps with little hanging crystals.

The wall directly across from me started to rattle and I leaned back on my knees, not knowing what to expect. Even the cat rolled closer to the side of the lovely pink tub. Music sounded from the ceiling and the wall stopped shaking and slid sideways, creating a two foot doorway. A little small for a secret passage and damned inconvenient if someone is occupying the tub. But hey, who am I to criticize secret passages?

I tried to see into the darkness inside the opening, but I only got the impression of movement seconds before a wave of bugs crawled out. Now, I’m okay with big hairy spiders, snakes, lizards and general creepy stuff, but those damn little bugs freak me out. I screeched like a little girl and bounced around the room. The bathing cat was on his own. Ten or twelve bugs landed in the water with a plop. The cat batted them around while I worked up the courage to rescue him. When I leaned over a huge rolie polie swam toward the cat. The insect was at least two feet long and had a tail like a lobster. And, he was wearing black leather gloves. The music abruptly switched to a tango and the bug swooped in and forced the cat to dance with him.

Needless to say, the dream only got weirder from there. It included a shape shifter wearing fringed jeans, not the trendy, worn out frayed jeans, but dark blue denim with six inch long fringe from hip to calf, a drunken theater performer, and our new President Obama even made a cameo appearance. He was dancing around the bathroom singing, “Obama llama sees a bug in the rug. Obama llama sees a bug in the rug.” And then there was me with a badge and a gun. I arrested the lot of them.



Now you know how I start my day.

Terrific Tuesday

Another author I really love is Beverly Barton. The last two lines I read are from her book Dying For You.

Holding the pistol in one hand, she flipped the switchblade in her other hand closed and dropped it back down inside her bra.

“Stay behind me and don’t do anything stupid,” he told her. She wanted to tell him that she had managed not to do anything stupid while she’d been held captive these past few days and she thought she could continue using her brains for at least a few more hours.

And the last two that I wrote are:

Mariska jumped when the lieutenant asked if there was any place else in the department she wanted to see. She blinked, Kellen turned away and the moment was lost.

Have a happy Tuesday!

Dreams

I am one of the people who are blessed enough to remember their dreams after waking up. Usually that is a good thing for me, because that is when my characters come out to play… but sometimes it’s not so great.

Take last night, for example. I love to be scared, and it takes very little to scare me. I love horror movies, but then I can’t be in a room by myself for a week. I am addicted to a show called Supernatural. My youngest brother got me started watching it and I love it. Hubby likes it, but he isn’t a freak like me.

So, I was watching TV last night, because I was putting off doing housework and actually writing (I’m so bad) and Supernatural was on. Hubby was in another room, and the cat jumped in the middle of my lap. Let me tell you, I squealed like a little girl and ran to the other room. Poor hubby had to come out and sit with me while I watched the rest of the show.

Then, I go to bed and have all these funky dreams about the show and the video I posted yesterday. The freaky girl in the video chased me around with a knife all night long. I woke up more tired than when I went to bed. I probably doesn’t help that right now I am writing about a serial killer who’s weapon of choice is a knife…

I wonder sometimes what ‘normal’ people would think if they got a peek inside my brain.

Happy Freaking Thursday!

So, today I feel like I am the only one in the blogosphere that isn’t down and depressed and maudlin. I want to liven everyone up. I’m a people pleaser. I want everyone around me to be happy and laughing. I had a great critique group last night. We laughed and they actually liked the beginning stages of my new book. I may not have any “followers” here YET. But, I am thinking about breaking out the homemade chocolate chip cookie bribes… If you know me, you know I’m not kidding. And if the chocolate chip cookies don’t work, there is the special recipe banana pudding… or the infamous “Better Than Sex” cake. But, until I get to bake, here is a freaky weird video that a friend sent me. I don’t know whether to be frightened or laugh! Hope everyone has a better day!

Wednesday Wonder

It is an amazing thing to have friends. Sometimes I forget the value of just having someone to say hi to, someone who understands my frustrations and fears, someone who doesn’t care what you can do for them.

So, to everyone that is my friend – thank you.

2 Fer 2's Day

It’s Tuesday! Time to celebrate another two lines… Okay, so maybe not celebrate, but share.

Tomorrow is critique night and I have NOTHING. I’m outlining a new story right now, but it is rough. So, here is the last entry on my outline:

Mariska is at home working on Allison’s website when her phone rings. The caller ID shows Taylor’s number, so she lets it go to voicemail. He calls twice more, but she ignores him. Finally when Aunt Vivian calls she answers. Vivian tells her that Sean is dead.

This is around the end of chapter three and page twenty-two on my outline. Like I said yesterday, ideas are coming out of my ears.

Now, this bright shiny morning I started reading Scream For Me by Karen Rose. I love her writing and when I grow up I want to be just like her! The last passage I read was:

He’d chosen her with care. Taken her with relish. Made her scream, long and loud.

See, I want to be in her head for just a few minutes.

Hope you all have a great day, and if you haven’t dropped by yet, you should go to habitatfortravis.blogspot.com. He and his family would really appreciate it!

Friends, New and Old

I put it away. The Manuscript. The one I have been working on for forever. I’ve tried so many different approaches to it that it was driving me crazy. I was dreaming about never ever finishing it. I finally got so frustrated; I knew that it needed to be put away for a while. The characters are almost family now. And we all know how it is with family. You can only spend so much time with them day after day after day before you are ready to scream at them to leave you alone.

So, with that said, I started a new story. The characters in this one have been running around my subconscious for some time now, and I decided that maybe I just needed to let them out to play. They needed some human interaction.

Once I let them out, there is no slowing them down. I started outlining this weekend and after two and a half chapters I had a twenty-two page outline. I love this. I can’t wait to get home now so that I can visit with them some more. It is like meeting new people that can’t get enough of your attention, AND they think you are amazing.

It’s great for the ego, too. Ideas and thoughts and plot lines are just falling out of my ears, I swear. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I don’t know if I just struggled too long over the other one and got myself all twisted up in knots or what, but once I knew I wasn’t going to mess with it for a while, everything started to click.

I love to write. I have since I was a little girl. I wrote my first article in second grade. I wrote my first story in third grade. I finished my first full manuscript in Junior High (it is amazingly awful, but I still have it tucked away in a file.) I wrote poetry non-stop in high school, but once I got into college I got so busy with all of my classes that I stopped writing. I got married really young, and got divorced really young. I was stupid, but it was a growing experience.

I got married again a couple of years later, and that was one of the best decisions I have ever made. We lived paycheck to paycheck for a long time. He found his job, I found my wonderful job, and we bought a house. Got some pets. And I started writing again.

I have made some of the best friends through writing. Friends that I would do just about anything for. I’ve had extreme joy and deep sadness in the process, but I don’t think I would trade it for anything in the world. I am a totally different person now, a better person I hope, for the experience.

On a serious note, I went and visited Travis and his family on Thursday. I was torn about going to see them. I didn’t want to interrupt and bother them in their time of grief, but I wanted to offer our support and let them know they have friends out there that care.

It broke my heart to sit and talk to them and see their beautiful boys playing with toys they had just gone and bought. I kept thinking about all their toys and books and the things they love are all gone, but they were safe. All of them. What got to me the most, and what brought tears to my eyes was that even though they are literally going through Hell right now, Travis looked me in the eye and told me that after things settled down some he was going to keep his promise to me.

Just before Thanksgiving, I talked to Travis about giving my manuscript a read through and letting me know what he thought about it. He was planning on doing a My Town Monday post on the museum I work at, and we decided he would pick it up when he came to do that.

I was amazed. He has one of the most generous spirits of anyone I know. His family has lost almost everything, and yet he was worried that I might have thought he wasn’t going to read my manuscript… All I can say is wow. I hope that if I am ever in that position I can be as generous. I don’t know that I would be able to think about anyone else’s problems at that point, actually. I would be incredibly greedy and selfish I think.

So, Travis, if you read this, know that you are freaking amazing and I appreciate you more than you know. Hubby and I are praying for you and yours.