Love is in the air!

Winter is a time of blustery winds, warm blankets, and book friends to fill your heart.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

I'm a Woman . . . Not a Piece of Ass

Just in case the title hasn't already clued you in, I'm in a pissy mood.

I have had my personal Facebook page virtually since the inception of Facebook. I have thousands of "friends", many of whom I haven't vetted very well because they approached me through mutual friends or because we were gaming together.

I usually don't bother with the people that are in my spam folder, because Facebook has already deemed them losers. And after a very brief foray into the file to see what was there, I must say I agree with Facebook's judgement. 

However, I sometimes will add "friends" who have mutual friends.

We all know there are people lurking out there waiting to take advantage of lonely people. Whether they are looking for sex or money or simply the pleasure they receive from luring people into their web, taunting, or scaring them, it all adds up to the same thing. There are rotten people out there waiting to take advantage of others. (This doesn't just happen to women, it is happening to men everyday too. It has also become a preferred forum for bullying pre adolescents and teens.)

Some are easy to spot. They usually begin with, "Hello Mrs Sir, I am in the army and my name is Sanjid Baroom. How ares yous day."

Others seem like they are just lonely people looking for friends. They will suddenly IM you and say, "Hi! I see you are located in Albany. I am also a writer and I live in Albany too. Perhaps we could meet."

If you continue in a conversation, because writers do like to find their brethren, eventually the push will be on, I want to meet you. I want to have sex with you. Can we meet and have sex?

Sorry, buddy, I'm not a piece of ass for some ugly ass guy too cheap to hire a pro. You don't know me. You don't know what I like. You don't know what I look like. As far as you know I could be so ugly the only way you can perform is if I have a paper bag over my head. And I already know that the only way I want to see you is in a body bag.

I am not lonely. I am surrounded by the best family a woman could ever hope for. I am not sex deprived. If I were to meet you I would bring the whips and the handcuffs, and believe me, they wouldn't be fur lined cuffs. 

I can be your best friend and help you through life, or I can be your worst nightmare. Watch out how you treat me, because what you do and say will decide how I will come back at you.

Sunday, August 25, 2013

The End Is Near

The End of Summer, that is.

In the United States the official end of summer, no matter what the calendar might say, is Labor Day (the first Monday in September).

The school year had originally been based on an agrarian society. School began after the harvest and let out in time for spring planting. Back in the old days when family farms were in an abundance and corporate farms barely existed, the farmer needed his children home to help with the family business and subsistence plots. (You don't plant, you don't eat.) Now most schools are in session before Labor Day and end well into June. Gone is the day of scheduling education around the needs of the home or the farmer.

However, based on ancient times and astronomical aspects the true end of Summer doesn't occur until the Autumnal Equinox. (Which this year is on September 22.) 

As summer of 2013 winds down I am reminded of summers past.

There was a year I rented a cottage on the Cape and a friend and her kids were supposed to have a neighboring cottage, only she backed out at the last minute. (She had a new boyfriend and was afraid to leave him alone for a few days.) I had the cottage for the last week of August and we had so much fun and the woman who owned the place enjoyed my kids so much she invited us to stay longer. (Free because it wasn't rented.) We couldn't because the kids had to get back to school, but her generous offer reminded me that there are a lot of really nice people out there, even when your so-called friends let you down. 

There were trips to Edaville Railroad in Carver and visits to the Stoneham and Southwick Zoos. Many beach days at Nantasket Beach, Salisbury, and Horse Neck. Trips to State Parks and Lakes, Whale Watching, movies in order to enjoy the AC. And lots of family togetherness.

When I was young I had a lot of freedom. My mother worked and had eleven other kids, and my Grandmother also worked and took care of the other kids.  My little friends and I, and we were little, not even teens yet, made our own fun. (I shudder to think of my kids doing half the things I did without supervision.) 

The height of summer fun was taking the T to Revere Beach with a couple of friends, riding the rides, playing the games. (You haven't lived until you are taking the T home with your beach bag (which is almost as big as you are, and a boxed set of electric hurricane lamps that you won for your grandmother. They were beautiful with smoked glass bodies and chimneys with painted pink flowers on them.) 

We had to walk to the public pool in the sweltering weather and got burned to a crisp while trying to avoid the hot concrete around the pool. 

We also enjoyed the carnival the local mafia don held every year for the church to try to gain absolution for his sins. 

We rode our bikes for miles. Our favorite bike ride was to the Junior High School because it was the best place to sit under trees on good grass while we picnicked with friends and talked about the library books we had just read.  

There was also the summer when we all thought we were living in a Nancy Drew novel and we rode our bikes up and down the streets until we found a house that looked spooky enough to be haunted or housed a murder that only we could get the "goods" on. 

There were also the days when it was so hot all you could do was close the shades, turn on the fan, and stay in front of it with a good book and a loaf of Pepperidge Farm bread. And an icy cold Cokes.

Although I moan and groan about the heat and humidity, I love summertime and I hate to see the kids lose so much of it.

We take them directly from school and put them into camp. Their time is so regulated it is as if they have no free time. When are these kids going to find time to monitor a haunted house, or carry home a box of lamps on the T?

How often do they play Fish or War with their friends on the front porch, or sit under a neighbors grape arbor and play Sorry or Monopoly? Whatever happened to kickball games in the street and games of tag. I remember when we played Hide and Seek an older kid had to help the younger ones with the count and every yard on both sides of the street was loaded with great places to hide in. (And every yard was fair game, except for a few with crotchety people living in the house.)

I look back fondly and think of walking to the corner store to grab a cold Coke and listen to "See You in September" on the jukebox whenever I had to get the paper for my Grandmother.

Back in those days we made memories. 

Let the children make memories now.

See you in September!

Friday, August 23, 2013

Facebook Events

Yesterday my dear friend Maeve Christopher held a Facebook event to celebrate the release of her latest book, Last Tangle in Paris. (I don't have a copy of the cover in my computer so I borrowed this from Amazon. If you want to look inside click on the link below the picture. 

I have been to other events, where the messages have been flying fast and furious and felt lost and bewildered.

However, I had promised Maeve to not only be there, but to be an active participant by being "on" for two separate hours. Then to increase my anxiety, two more of my friends said they would also take an hour. One of whom I promised to "help" and "hold her hand" until she felt comfortable. It was truly a case of bravado on my part.

Anyway, because I had promised Maeve, and a good friend never goes back on her promise if she can help it, I girded my loins and went into the event a little early. Just to get the hang of it before I had to become the hand holder.

It was a fantastic experience. I jumped into several threads and went into full par-tay mode. The comments were coming fast and furious, but I was having a great time. By the time Karen Frisch came on. I felt confident enough to hold her hand. Only she was fabulous and didn't need my help.

My other friend ran into computer/internet problems. She wasn't able to maintain a connection, so Super Liberty stayed, even though by this time I was dancing on the tables with a lampshade for a hat. And I have found a new cohort!!! Layla Darnell!

(I believe there are two new funds set up, Layla & Liberty's Bail and Layla & Liberty's Defense Fund. Yes, we were definitely having a wild time! It involves chimps and cement ponds, don't ask.)

When it was my turn to have a contest I had to admit that I needed a tagline for The Counterfeit Bride. I am really bad at writing taglines, so I completely blocked it out. Then when I was asked to run a game or contest (and everyone at our meeting gave their taglines) I suddenly remembered the gap I had in my promotion file.

I received some really funny ones like "Stop the wedding I want to get off" (from Maeve's heroine Glori) to Donna Porter's "Kiss me quick Theron before I turn into my cousin".

I also received some taglines that will work really well and I plan on using in promotions.

Will Cassidy let her cousin steal her name, her parents, AND the Greek Tycoon? Not without a fight!
Barnes & Noble:

Thanks to Maeve Christopher I have overcome my fear of events, and I will be having one in November (if Maeve will agree to be my manager and social director) to celebrate the release (finally!) of Christmas Lights.

Party ON!

Friday, August 9, 2013



  [tran-zish-uhn, -sish-] (meaning from
movement, passage, or change from one position, state, stage, subject, concept, etc., to another;change: the transition from adolescence to adulthood.
a passing from one key to another; modulation.
a brief modulation; a modulation used in passing.
a sudden, unprepared modulation.
a passage from one scene to another by sound effects, music, etc., as in a television program,theatrical production, or the like.
verb (used without object)
to make a transition: He had difficulty transitioning from enlisted man to officer.

Life is a series of transitions. 

Some are normal, like moving from infant to toddler, some are not like being a sweet child and turning into an angry adolescent overnight.

Some are easy, like tapping your feet to music, some are as difficult as learning to pirouette on your toes.

Life is full of transitions and so is writing.

Writing transitions is hard work. Some transitional scenes take authors hours, days, or even months to write, and then they may still not be happy with what they have produced.

This column is actually a transitional column. Up until now it has been about writing, books, and authors. There will be more columns like that in the future, but they are going to take turns with life's observations.

I have found that although I love to expound on writing, I get tied of harping on the same things bothering me. I have also found that things that bother me don't bother other people until I point them out to them. (My daughter will never forgive me for a comment I made about Mr. Bingley's head. And no, I am not going to repeat it here, because then it will bother you too. Just forget about it.)

I have not been a good little blogger writing every week the way I had promised myself I would. Writing, life, and the Little Guys tend to have other plans for me. However, I am going to give it my best shot and I intend to write about the mundane and the profane and every so often I will throw some tips or gripes into the mix.

I hope you will all read the columns and let me know what you think of them. If you have a favorite subject you would like me to rant or rave about, let me know. I may, or I may not, use it. 

Read and be merry, my friends!

Oh, and be sure to enter The Scavenger Hunt. There are fun prizes to win and it is easy/peasy!