Oh. Crap. Here I was madly typing away on FAERIE FOOL when I realized I had no blog for today. It’s Thursday. What’s special about Thursday? Nothing. Nothing at all. Monday is…well *Monday*. Tuesday is NOT Monday. Wednesday is all about HUMP Day and the downhill slide to the weekend. Friday is TGIF and then we have THE WEEKEND–Saturday and Sunday–a day to party and a day to recover before Monday starts all over again. So…what is Thursday? The day before Friday, the day after Hump Day. It’s a day to get work done so you don’t have to work so hard on Friday and can maybe start the weekend a little early.

So, I’m getting work done. On FOOL. Happy now? But I have a question for you. What happens when a guy who is VERY interested in a gal walks into a restaurant and sees her with another guy? Sees her obviously very intimate with another guy? How does he react?

You think I’m teasing, right? I’m not. This book is aggravating the tar out of me! It doesn’t want to flow from start to finish. It wants to jump-start and run in high gear, idle, then kick into low gear and go somewhere completely different and uphill. I’m going to end up with all these separate scenes spaced out between **** marks. In the end, I hope I find some semblance of order for them.

I can’t figure out why Rory and Delaney are fighting me so much. Rory wants his story told. Abhean is actually being rather quiet and just watching things play out, though he’s strumming his harp. Manannan Mac Lir is off seducing someone or other. I know I have two releases next month, plus a conference, but dang it, this story shouldn’t be this hard!

Oh, well. I’ve advocated going with one’s gut when it comes to telling the story. My gut says write these random scenes as they pop into my imagination. I’ll leave it the the faerie and Iffy to stitch together a coherent story when we’re done. With all these voices in my head, I sure hope I can write by committee. My CP complains that I’m an “organic writer” whatever the heck that means. I think I’m finding out. And not necessarily in a good way. Nope. No more negativity. This book will get written and it’s going to be a terrific story. Just sayin’!

Tomorrow I’ll announce the winner of the Samhain RWA swag package. Erika won the ARC of FAERIE FIRE from Iffy. Iphigenia is Iffy’s *real* name and Erika got it in one comment! Iffy says she and Erika are BFFs now and she’s going to Erika’s house to spend the weekend.

Oh, and remember those questions I asked? Best answer might just make it into the book!

I miss my dad every day. For those of you who have great dads, love them and thank them on this day set aside for them. And celebrate TV and movie dads with me.

HAPPY FATHER’ DAY.

At some point in life, I came across this site called TUT – The Universe’s Thoughts – or something like that. I signed up, then realized it was a more a self-help guru type thing (along the line of The Secret–you know, visualize and wish and all shall be yours?) but, that said, I enjoyed the daily emails of inspirational thoughts. Some hit close to home, some I deleted with barely a read through. The other day, though, this one popped up in the in-box and I thought it was rather profound.

To empower another, is to empower yourself.

To celebrate another, is to celebrate yourself.

And to free another, Silver, is to free yourself.

I say empower, celebrate, and free them all,
The Universe

See the trend, Silver? Whatever you give, you get.

I say it’s time celebrate. What about y’all? Tell us something you need an extra “push” to get over the hump, something good that’s happened in your life, or something you need thoughts and prayers on. We’ll all push, party, and set our troubles free!

While I’m over at MURDER SHE WRITES guest blogging today, I thought I would copy a comment Justin made last week and post it here to stand on it’s own as a guest blog. Some of you may have missed it. I found it profound enough to warrant a repeat here. Having the male point of view when it comes to sex in literature is interesting, especially when the man is as eloquent as Justin. Here’s what he had to say:

I think I’ve let slip that my secret alter ego’s an erotica author from some years past. As you’re entering my territory here, let me offer a few thoughts on sex in literature.

The key mistake I’ve seen made, time and time again, is to treat sex as a bottle of Tabasco sauce at tableside, as opposed to an airtight bag of dried chile peppers in one’s spice rack. The very question of “how much sex?” leads us down the path of thinking of literary sex in the former sense, as something added to an otherwise fully-fleshed-out story outline to make it “spicy.” Put bluntly, this doesn’t encourage the sex to serve any narrative purpose, and leads the author pondering this question to treat sex as a distraction, a sideshow, to stitch together awkward transitions in a story, or to provide a suitably explosive quality to an otherwise slightly tepid coda. Sex here masks bland narrative, distracts from awkward stitching of scenes, serves as the magician’s colorful silk scarf, distracting the audience from what the other hand might be doing.

It’s little wonder that sex in literature receives little (and grudging) respect, used in this way so often. While the other story elements — the characters, the setting, the plot, the pacing, the specific nuances of the struggle that creates the piece’s literary tension — are carefully weighed and balanced to create a single coherent “flavor” during early sketching of the piece as such, this approach treats sex as a sort of sprayed-on chrome and bolt-on trim package, something added as an afterthought, something there to be flashy and pretty and candy-like to the reader.

Why do we do this? I think, deep down, we’re all uncomfortable with the idea of exposing ourselves as sexual beings, even though the imagined obscuring lens of a fictional third party. I think, truth be told, we feel naked and judged on a deep, perhaps largely subconscious level, to show the outside world even a hint of our — pardon the sudden crass and juvenile word choice, it’s deliberate — “O-face.” When we treat sex like Tabasco sauce, we can pretend it’s not personal, it’s not some facet of ourselves, our feelings, shining through. It’s just something we slather onto an already largely complete story to “make it yummy” for readers who fancy it.

The question we should be asking instead, at the time of early outlining of the story, is how much of a role sex plays in the narrative, and to what narrative purpose it serves. We groom our dialogue, pruning exchanges that add nothing to the story, sometimes removing entire scenes that don’t serve to further the story effectively. We prune characters that aren’t necessary, review any subplots with a critical eye for fear they might muddle the piece’s flow. Likewise, we should approach the question of sex at this time, too, and regard sex as simply one more form of narrative, one more literary tool with which to tell the reader about the characters, the situation, or the world.

Sexual narrative, when used in this way, serves a literary purpose. A sex scene can tell us more about the characters, revealing nuances of their minds and hearts that cannot be explored through dialogue in a natural way, and that might require situations that aren’t convenient to the narrative to explore otherwise. They can introduce the characters to one another in new ways, and can be conversations in themselves — I’ve written sex scenes that were arguments without words, admissions of fear, admissions of need, disconnects, reconnects, new connections, power struggles, power surrenders, queries, answers, hopes fulfilled, hopes dashed, and even ones in which the characters remained in separate “worlds” while their bodies shared personal space. Want to show the reader how the favored dancer is the true power behind the throne? Set her in the Emir’s lap and let the “camera” linger there. Show the old man’s stumpy, graceless fingers tremble as the follow the light gloss of clean perfumed sweat that shimmers on her heaving belly in the flickering amber and umber hues of the lamplight. Show us the way his breath chuffs, short, urgent and canine, in time with the dry porcelain rattle of beaded strands from her shirt across his chest. Allow her smile to blossom, but don’t tip that hand too quickly. Draw it out. He doesn’t get that smile until he’s past shame, past reserve, and fully in her thrall. Is she enjoying his surrender to her, or merely her own masterful artfulness? Is she fond of him, or merely in love with her own prowess in controlling him, or even simply with the beauty of her own dance?

Rather than ask how much sex is necessary, perhaps we should be asking what we wish to say in a given scene, and whether sex is the language best suited to its expression. The difference between literarily relevant sex and gratuitous sex is not the “volume” of the sexual content, but its relationship to the story in which it happens, and its purpose as a part of that story. Story-interrupting sex may serve a literary purpose too — to give hope to a disheartened reader that the HEA is not impossible, to give the reader a rest between strident and draining chapters, or to renew the characters’ interest in one another, for example — but again, in these cases, the scene is set into the piece with purpose beyond reader titillation. The decision of “how much” is a simple one, in all of these cases. Would adding more (intensity, graphic exposition, length) better serve the scene’s purpose, or would it detract from that purpose?

I would argue that entire stories can be told *as* sexual narratives; some of my best short stories spanned a sex scene in their entirety, but told the reader everything he or she needed to know about the characters in the space of that sex scene, and flowed with a clear beginning, middle, and end in a literarily satisfying way. If this is true, then sex, really, is no different from any other literary vehicle, and doesn’t require any special consideration as such a vehicle. How much sex? I don’t know. How much dialogue? How much scenery? How much flirtation? How much plot?

How much does the story demand? That’s the question.

Hi there, it’s me again. That is the question, isn’t it? And people think I love Justin just for his tech savvy!

Long ago and far away, when Lawyer Guy was an army captain and we lived in post housing at Ft. Knox, I discovered Army Music Theatre. I started college as a Drama major. Yes. Really. I heard that snicker! I finished college as a poly sci/history major so sh’up. Anyway….jeez. Y’all are as bad as Iffy on the distractions. Where was I? Oh, yes. Ft. Knox. I read in the post paper about try outs for the next dinner theatre production: Crimes of the Heart. If you aren’t familiar, go HERE. That’s the link to the movie, but you’ll get an idea of the storyline. I wanted the part of Meg McGrath. I ended up with the role of Chick Boyle, a cousin of the McGrath sisters. I adored playing her! In the opening scene, I had to put on a pair of pantyhose. On stage. In a dinner theatre, which is a very intimate setting. People had just finished eating.

On opening night, two things of note happened. The commanding general of Ft. Knox was seated at the table front and center. He was about six feet from where I was to sit to put on that damnable pair of pantyhose. (I hate them. Passionately!) Knowing I wore a pair of pink dance pants (like the bottom of a leotard with elastic in the waist), I flashed the General. Intentionally. But the gods of theatre got me back. As I was pulling up the second leg of the hose, a huge run appeared. I mean HUGE! It was obvious even to the audience as evidenced by their snickers. Seizing the moment by the horns, I ripped off the hose, tossed them onto the kitchen table (part of the set), and ad libbed. Unfortunately, the “actress” playing Lenny had no experience. This was her first role. Ever. She stood there, completely aghast. I’m not sure what got to her most–the ad lib or the puddle of hose on the table. I carried on like this was part of the play, as was her reaction, and steered the dialogue back to a point where she could reply and it all make sense. I had to prod her verbally a time or two, but it all came together.

During the after-show critique, the director couldn’t stop laughing. He was trying to figure out how to keep that bit in the show. Poor Lenny almost panicked. We assured her there were other ways to milk laughs from the audience. I went on to other shows with FKAMT, including several where I got to shock the CG. (He was a major jerk!)

Where is this story going? I was prepared to rant about the move of RWA from Nashville to Orlando. I’ve not been a fan of The Mouse(tm) since Walt died. Where I might have once wanted to visit, I haven’t felt that way in years. I’d planned to drive to Nashville, a nice one-day adventure with friends on a road trip. Those plans have all changed. I’ll still be going, just not looking forward to it. (Well, except I may be able to squeeze in a visit with Justin and his wife! That is cool, if it works out.) Getting to see several of you there was a huge plus point for me! Now…I won’t have the fun of doing so.

Life likes to throw cra…stuff at us when we least expect it. The best we can do is roll with the punches and improvise. It’s the same with writing, if you think about it. I promise not to get all heavy and philosophical here. Just when you think you have a character figured out, a plot point set in stone, or a black moment guaranteed to set your readers on their ears, the universe ups and changes the “rules” all willy-nilly. And that’s when the ability to improvise becomes worth it’s weight in gold. Wait…how can you weigh an ability? Are there scales for that? Did I mention I did NOT win the lottery? Someone did. Not me. *cries* Okay. Crocodile tears.

Why am I babbling? Because I hit another spot in SOTW where I wondered WTF!?! I was doing. Then I decided to improvise. I think it’s going to work. I hope. And since we aren’t going to Nashville, I’ll still invite some of those hunky C&W stars for brunch tomorrow. See? Improvising.

I’ve been on a whirl-wind tour of the web touting FAERIE FATE. Oh, like, duh. Yeah, yeah. I know you know. But…I just want to point out that some of the nicest people in the world live out there in the vast cosmic void and a whole lot of them love romance novels. While “trolls” still inhabit part of the space-time continuum, there are many “angels” out there as well. Sometimes, people do nice things just because. I want to thank two of those people right now. First, B.E. Sanderson is a name I see on various blogs. I’ve never checked out her blog because, frankly, I could spend all day reading blogs and not get a blasted thing done. As a result, I severely limit my blog hopping. B.E. is a writer on the trail to publication. She blogged about FAERIE FATE yesterday. Unbidden. She read my post at Jen Lyon’s and she…pitched it to the readers of her blog, sight unseen and unread. She has it on her wish list, but hasn’t read the book. I mean…wow. I discovered she’d done this amazingly nice thing because of Google Alerts. She didn’t call attention to her actions. She just did something nice.

And then there’s Amanda, another regular on Jen’s blog. When I mentioned FATE wasn’t available in the “big box” stores, she offered to talk to the romance buyer at the independent where she shops, and to request FATE as their next book club read. I…I’m as gobsmacked by all this as Ciaran is about Becca’s 20th century sensibilities. I’ve met some amazing people on my journey. So many of you who are regulars met me elsewhere on the net and followed me home. Trust me, I’m so glad you did! Each one of you has done something incredibly nice for me by spreading my name, by coming here, by having faith in me as a writer. As time goes on, I hope to meet many more of you, both in person and on the ‘net.

I’m still at Long And Short Reviews with another mini-essay. There are questions posed with each essay. If you email in the answer and/or comment, you’re entered to win a copy of FAERIE FATE. If you already have the book, I’ll substitute something fun! Friday, I’m at Alannah Lynne’s blog.

In the meantime, I’m going to just sit here and marvel at this amazing community of romance writers and readers. Y’all rock! (And make me all sniffly and gooey inside! No. Really!!!)

Where are the days flying off to? Is Time doing speed? When I first received my release date, it seemed like it would never get here. Now I’m…all together now…TWENTY-THREE DAYS away. Come tomorrow, FAERIE FATE should move to the front page of TWRP’s website, listed in the top 20 Coming Soon links under the New Releases. Would any of you be surprised to learn that I click on that little button in the side bar that says FAERIE FATE more than once a day? If you roll your mouse over it, the info tells you when the book will be available. If you click on it, it takes you directly to FAERIE FATE’s page on the website. Where you can order it. Soon. I hope!

The days, weeks, and months of 2010 are tumbling around me like a child’s building blocks when an older sibling stomps through. I haven’t updated the contest pages here. I’m slow in sending out prizes to Paula and Shiloh, though I have a reason. Really. A good one! Bookmarks! I have bookmarks coming. Ashlynn designed them and they are made of much awesomeness! I wanted to tuck some in to the envelopes when I mail out the prizes from last week. And I should be doing a March contest. And an April one because, OMG RELEASE DATE!

April will be a blur. I’m doing lots of guest blogs and will be giving away goodies each time–more mugs, notebooks, totebags, and books. I’m also donating a gift basket of FAERIE FATE and Irish-themed goodies for Brenda Novak’s auction in May. I’ll post links and a calendar of events one of these days. I need to do some updating on the site here. See? So much to do and so little time!

There are still characters to meet. I haven’t decided about tomorrow’s snippet and pics. Who would y’all like to meet next? Niall and Siobhan? Abhean and Manannan? Somebody else? Let me know early so I can scout a snippet.

On that note, time stands still for no one and I’m off and running to catch it! Later gators.

Maybe it was the luck or the Irish, or maybe it was “god winks.” However it happened, my journey to publication was filled with adventures. First, let me explain about “god winks.” Several years ago, I caught an interview on TV. Author SQuire Rushnell (yes, that’s spelled correctly), was touting his newest book, WHEN GOD WINKS: How the Power of Coincidence Guides Your Life. I found the premise interesting, ordered the book, sat down and read it. From the inside cover: It is not by accident that you put picked up WHEN GOD WINKS. Whether you call it synchronicity or coincidence, what brought you to this book today is worth remembering. In fact, you may have suspected all along that there is more to coincidence than meets the eye. These seemingly random events are actually signposts that can hellp you successfully navigate your career, relationships, and interests. SQuire Rushnell shows us that by recognizing our “God Winks,” we can use the untapped power of coincidence to vastly improve our lives.

I read the book and started looking for the synchronicity…the coincidences in my life. I came across some startling ones in my friendships (especially some on-line relationships that developed on the friendship front) and in my personal life. For example, I worked for a major brokerage firm in Colorado Springs and was asked to transfer to the Dallas office. I did. Then my mother needed knee replacement surgery and my dad was gone through the week working for the state government. Mother played bridge with the next door neighbor of the district judge, who was looking for a new bailiff. I applied, got the job, and moved home. Of course, the judge was my brother’s age and being a small town, we all knew everybody anyway. A few years later, my dad mentioned the state appellate court was looking for a deputy marshal. (While these positions sound rough and ready, they are administrative in nature…for the most part.) I applied, got the job, and moved to OKC, where I met Lawyer Guy. In law school at the time, he was a file clerk in the Court Clerk of the Supreme Court’s office. I used to go down to the file room and hide out with the clerks because they smoked, as did I at the time. The appellate judges’ office was non-smoking. For two years, we were best friends. I dated. He dated. I broke up. He broke up. We…dated about two weeks, he asked for my hand, and we were married two months later.

Now, while he was in law school and things were stressy for him, I started writing a book. Not my first book by a long shot, but when I finished it, I thought it was the first one I’d writing that might be saleable. I sent it off to Harlequin Enterprises, for consideration by their Worldwide Library imprint–the one publishing the Mack Bolan books at the time. (Yes, I was a huge Mack Bolan fan! Talk about pulp!). You see, I didn’t write romances. I wrote action adventures…with female protagonists. They looked at the full, liked it, but weren’t sure a series based on a team of women soldiers working for an R&D think tank testing all sorts of cool gizmos and getting sent on covert missions would sell to their primarily male readers. They suggested I read Harlequins and considering submitting to the romance arm. Uhm…ho-kay.

My next attempt…which turned out to be a romantic suspense with paranormal overtones was also rejected after they looked at a full. My writing was too sophisticated for their readers. Wait? You mean because I had more than five characters and a plot? Realize, we’re talking TWENTY YEARS ago. Things have changed a lot in the ensuing years. Of course, it didn’t help that I was writing paranormal before there was such a subgenre!

Fast forward, so I don’t bore y’all to tears. Suffice it to say that I wrote a lot of books–some got finished, some didn’t, and I periodically tried to get published. To no avail. Two and a half years ago, I piddled around with the idea of trying to get published one more time. Life changes meant I had the time to write again. I’d been introduced to Live Journal by two friends I played in a PBeM RPG with. A who? A Play By eMail Role Playing Game. It was my first introduction to Yahoo Groups, and the game was loosely based on Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anitaverse. This is where I first discovered Sade as a character. While blogging on LJ, I met Justin (now that’s a whole ‘nother set of God Winks!), who introduced me to a guy who calls himself Traveller. He’s the one who first told me about National Novel Writing Month and talked me into giving it a shot. That first year, I wrote SEASON OF THE WITCH.

Having discovered the wide webverse, I also discovered blogs. Like Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. Someone on there mentioned the Brenda Novak auction for juvenile diabetes research, and posted a link. I checked it out. And started bidding. On editor and agent critiques. I won two that year. And promptly panicked. One, I wanted. The other…not so much. I’d been bidding to get the price up. Oops. The bid I wanted was with Patience Smith at Silhouette Intrigue. Do you remember that book I wrote long ago? The romantic suspense with a shade of paranormal? SHADOW DANCE. I submitted a proposal to Patience. She sent back suggestions. I rewrote the first four chapters, made them three, and asked if I could submit “for real.” She encouraged me so I did. She asked for a full.

That other critique? It was with Ellora’s Cave. I had nuthin’! Really. I had no finished MS that came anywhere close to what they wanted. So…I dragged out an old unfinished one, found new direction, wrote it and sent off the proposal. That’s a query letter, synopsis, and three chapters, only they wanted the last chapter, too. I’ll come back to this in a moment.

In the meantime, I figured I might better join RWA. You know, get a handle on this business of writing romances, since that’s what it seemed I actually wrote. I also looked into the local chapter and decided networking was a smart thing. I went to my first meeting in October. One of the members was an editor for The Wild Rose Press. She mentioned they were open to unagented submissions. I joined the group that day, came home and checked out TWRP. See, I had these two books on the back burner, with the faint plot for a third. About reincarnation and time travel. And Faeries. But New York kept telling me that time travel was old hat. And reincarnation was a bit New Age, yet. So…what the heck. I drafted a query according to the guidelines, and sent it off to Rhonda Penders at TWRP. A few days later, I got an email from the Senior Editor of the Faery Rose line (did you catch that god wink?) saying she was forwarding my proposal to an editor for consideration. Two days later, I had a request for a full. And two days after that, I had an offer.

Patience Smith ultimately declined SD. It didn’t have enough romance for the Silhouette line, and she was quite right about that. It also read choppy. Uhm…yeah. I’d cut 24K words to meet their word length guidelines. I thanked her, we both left the door open, and I moved on. I still think there’s a home for SD, with most of those 24K words put back in, but mo’bettah words. As for EC, after being told I’d receive my critique in a month, and not receiving it in several months, I emailed them. My critique had fallen through the cracks. I resubmitted the proposal and I received the critique within 48 hours. It was not…a positive one. I was okay with that, because I knew there were some fixes I needed to make–none of which were mentioned by EC. I made them. And pitched PROPHECY OF THE BLOOD to TOR Books last fall. At a writer’s conference in New Orleans. Which I’d bid on and won in Brenda Novak’s auction last year. I was asked to submit a full. They still have it. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that god winks one more time!

Signs. Portents. God winks. Coincidence. Synchronicity. However you label it, keep your eyes open. There’s a reason we sometimes get hit in the head with a clue-by-four. Oh, one last god wink. I wouldn’t be here…wouldn’t know any of you except from other blogs, if those god winks hadn’t led me to Justin. He’s the one who created my “home” here on the web.

By the way, Happy St. Paddy’s Day t’ya! May you live as long as you want and never want as long as you live!” ~ Old Irish Blessing.

glitter-graphics.com

I’m late today. Last night, when I normally draft and post here, I had no inspiration. This morning, The Only had a dental check up and since Mom still has the checkbook….I was up and out early. Home now, treatment plan in place and budget being revised.

Did I mention it’s frigid outside? But only going to get colder by the weekend.

Yes. I’m procrastinating. I have a good excuse, though. Really I do! (And I haven’t even been on Twitter for three days now!) My favorite coffee mug broke. Well…it cracked–a big, gaping Colorado River into the Grand Canyon crack. I love coffee. Love it like WHOAH! But I’m very persnickety about the cup I drink it from. Travel cups are my friend. Not the slick, shiny, stainless steel monoliths but the clunky, often gaudy plastic variety touting truck-stop chain logos. I love hot coffee. REALLY hot coffee. With “steamed” soy milk. (Can’t do real milk anymore and the soy’s not bad at all.) I steam it in the microwave. So my cup has to be microwave safe AND friendly–meaning it has to fit inside, height-wise. When my old standby died, I had to improvise. I didn’t like it. That cup had a narrow bottom and I was always fearful the thing would tip over and spill across my keyboard. Been there, done that. This is A Very Bad Thing(tm)! My old cup also had a slide top, meaning I could close off the drink hole. This was good to keep my coffee hot longer and to prevent BIG spills. A little always managed to dribble out but not enough to do damage.

Coming back from The Only’s appointment, we stopped at the truck stop chain where I’d bought Old Faithful. Ah ha! My little eye spied the right sized and shaped mug. The logo has changed, a bright yellow now but maybe I’ll be able find it easier when I’ve set it down and wandered off in daze. But…I’m still on the hunt. The top doesn’t close. And I’ve already thrown the old top away. … … …

Okay. I don’t miss my CSI days at all. Dumpster/trash diving is pretty gross when leftovers and coffee grounds are concerned. I recovered the lid. It doesn’t really fit, though. *sigh* Just my luck.

Well, with substitute mug full of coffee and daylight burning, I have words to go before I can lay my head down to sleep. So tell me, is there one thing you absolutely have to have to get motivated each day? Or am I truly crazy? (Don’t answer that! )

Christmas Eve Gift! (That’s an old *superstition* in my family. The first person to say it, gets a gift, or a blessing, from the person they say it to. And each of you have given me a gift already! Just coming here day after day is a gift.)

So…there we were in Manitou. We bought the cactus tree, the shop owner agreed to have it shipped for an extra cost…uhm…hello, we were flying. Southwest wouldn’t exactly let us carry it on. At the end of the weekend, off we go into the wild blue yonder and return back to Okie land. Days go by. Then a couple of weeks. Lawyer Guy calls the shop. There’s a small problem. The darn thing is too oddly shaped for UPS or FedEx to accept the box. They haggle back and forth and finally decide that if the builder folds the arms in, he can fit it in a box that a freight company will accept. Yes. You saw that right. Freight. Cartage. Over the road.

We wait. And wait. And wait some more. And then wait another day. Two. Suddenly, it’s Christmas Eve and we don’t have a tree. The Only was still in grade school, and still believed in Santa. Heck, I still believe! Anyway, I was working for Lawyer Guy at the time and just as we were getting ready to close the office early, lo and behold, a big silver and navy truck rumbles up. I was doing the Snoopy dance! Yes! The cactus tree finally arrived. But it wouldn’t fit in my Blazer. We duct taped it to the top. And took the back roads home because highway speeds would be a Very Bad Thing(tm).

Home, finally, we off-load it, cut the box open and spend an hour getting it back into some semblance of it’s former shape. That Christmas, we had a red towel around the base. The next year, I found chili pepper material and make a tree skirt. We’ve had dogs try to chew it. Once. We had a cat try to climb it. Once. We’ve moved. Once. And for ten years it stayed up year round in the corner of the living room. Then we rearranged rooms. It was moved to the garage. And promptly lost. I won’t subject you to a picture of my garage. It’s…Well, let me put it like this. We don’t let the dogs out there for fear THEY will get lost. Seriously! But I found it. I found a place to put it in the family room. And it has presents underneath it! I’m actually done with wrapping. And the roll dough is made. At some point today, I have to make spaghetti sauce. Or…drive the kids in the snow. As I write this, I’m waiting for the weather to make up it’s mind.

In the meantime, Christmas Eve Gift, my friends! May life bless you with happiness and peace. I’m taking some time off between now and New Year’s. I’ll see ya’ll back here next year for our first Saturday brunch! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!