Green's Hill-Amy Lane's Home - News

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Surprised--and Happy :-)

So, this weekend is "birthday weekend"-- which is always both fun and a challenge for Mate and I. My birthday's on the 30th, his is on the 1st, and there's a daughter and an aunt and a mother all thrown in there somewhere too. This year, I didn't expect a big deal, really-- the year has sort of kicked my ass in a lot of ways, and I was just getting very happy that it would be over.

But, as usual, people both surprised and delighted me--which is wonderful. It's always good to enter the next year of your life remembering how awesome most people are, and that for the most part, we really do wish kindness on one another.

I started getting FB Happy Birthdays yesterday--and thank you to everyone who's been so kind.

And I got stuff in the mail today!  (And Mate's bday present too-- heeeeeee!)

And at Yaoi-Con, I got an AMAZING gift from my friend Karen, who stopped by to have lunch with me on her way through SF. (She brought this on the plane--I was boggled! And it was whole and perfect, too!)

So here we go-- pictures of my bounty, and you must believe me when I say, this birthday has already been amazingly happy, and it hasn't even started yet.

Thank you :-)

Okay-- so from Chicken, I got a "Barb" T-shirt from Stranger Things. For those of you who watch the show, Barb is like, my teen doppleganger. An old high school friend even verified this--I looked just like her when I was young.

From Karen, I got a yarn bowl!  I haven't started a new project yet, so it's not quite appropriately used, but I can't wait until I start the sweater I'm planning for Chicken, and I can put the yarn through the bunny's mouth and GO!!!!  I love this yarn bowl-- it has been my knitting companion for a week, and it will keep me sane for many projects to come!

From my sister, I got the Dr. Seuss's knitting coffee mug-- you may have to enlarge the photo, but it's got a great lyric on it, to the patter of Green Eggs and Ham. "And I will knit on a boat, and I will for a goat!"

I love this cup, and I really love that she gave it to me--we haven't done bday gifts in forever, and it means the world :-)

Julianne, darling Julianne--she sent me the llama/alpaca mug (which I should have taken a better picture of!) and the fox lipgloss for Squish. (She says thank you, Julianne-- she loves the lipgloss, and definitely loves the fox!)

Now, Mate is getting me something--which I didn't count on, I told him he didn't have to, and I've upped the ante with him. I stenciled "Coach" on a white T-shirt, and I'm going to have his kids--both teams-- sign the shirt with fabric pens on Saturday. The kids did this for him extemporaneously during last banquet when they found out the age range got split up and a lot of his kids were getting reassigned. He really treasures that shirt, and I wanted to give him a good memory of this more than hectic year.

So there you go--my birthday is off to an auspicious start, and my faith in mankind has been renewed.

Thanks, woman and man kind! I needed that!






Week 6, redux

So, I was down for a forty-five minute nap this afternoon when Squish climbed into bed. She had a headache and was trembly and...

And it's week six.

I didn't even have to do the math.

Week six, the marking week of the most stressed, the most exhausted, the most strung out and wrecked that you will be after any major life change including starting school, is here.

Have a baby? Week six will be when you go to the market with mismatched shoes and a shirt inside out, and then attempt to run the baby's carseat through the market checkout.

Changing jobs? Week six will be the when you need to be physically restrained from calling your old job and begging for a position cleaning toilets for the condescending prick that caused you to run away in the first place.

Going to school, playing soccer, participating in dance?

Week six will be when something's gotta give.

We skipped dance. She slept a little. I watched an entire episode of television un-interupted--and I knitted.

It's Birthday Week, we're doing some other stuff right now, I'm under a deadline, the kids are exhausted, it's here.

It's arrived.

It's week six.

A nap and a missed activity is the only way to go.

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

A few quick observations before bed...

Squish got in the car all excited today.

"Hey, mom--we finally had social studies! We're going to learn about colonialism!"

I was surprised. "You mean they're going to teach about how European interlopers pretty much displaced the indigenous people of four different continents, raped the land of the resources and brutalized the natives in an attempt to make populating the countryside easier?"

"No..." she said with a chin wobble. "That's horrible. We were just going to learn about the Pilgrims."

Oh. "Well, uh, you know. Learn about the Pilgrims now. The, uh, other stuff will come later."

"Did we really do that?"

"Well, our ancestors didn't get to the country until it was already done, if that helps. And we've got a little bit of Navajo ancestry because that's why half of us don't burn in the sun."

A little bit of tension seeped out of her. "Oh Thank God."

So, there you go. Manufacturing cynicism and disillusionment in my youngest. Well done!

*  *  *

Every day, before I leave to get Squish and Zoomboy, I make sure I have a full cup of ice water with me. The first thing that Squish does when she gets in the car is say, "I'm thirsty."  (Well, after "We're going to learn about colonialism!" that is.)

Tonight, as I was getting T from the bus stop he said, "Gee mom, I'm thirst--"

Without even thinking about it, I thrust my glass of ice water at him.

Don't even ask me how I knew.

*  *  *

I've totally had it with tertiary characters and their names. I'm going to like pull five names from a hat-- Mike, Mack, Mark, Gus, and Rufus-- those will by my GHUYYYYSSSS. Their one function will be to move the story along without actually having personalities, and I'm going to make them hideously unattractive so nobody will once say, "But what about Gus? I know he's 45 with a potbelly and no hair, and he has three ex-wives and a hideous toe-fungus problem, but I think he deserves gay love too!"  And they will be suspiciously without personality. And I'm going to make them the construction crew, office crew, group of classroom buddies in every novel. I shall interchange them like shirt and skirt sets when I'm going out for dinner. "In this book, we'll use Mike and Mack, but this one's going to have Gus and Rufus!"  I'll pull them out of a box like those paper dolls we used to play with and dress them with backstories and paste them into the background so my two MC's can get together with considerably less dialog and have oodles and oodles of sex.

*sigh*

Okay. I can't do that.  You all know that. I'm as interested in the tertiary characters as I am in the secondary and primary characters.

But the names, people. You gotta admit--the name thing might be getting a wee bit dire.

*  *  *

I had dinner with my sister tonight--and she was funny and interesting and we laughed a lot. Yes, I know, you might not have heard me talk about my sister (stepsister) but I do love her, and I hope we chat a lot more in the future. Tonight was part of a concerted effort to get out and be more social.

She was awesome. I approve.

And one of the first things we agreed upon as we sat together was the sacrosanct nature of the nap. We both grew up with parents who worked nights and/or swing shift, and the rule was there needed to be blood or fire before we disturbed a sleeping parent. And only a little blood didn't count. We had to be bleeding out our eyeballs and one other orifice, or there needed to be a limb that was mangled or otherwise unaccounted for.

The end.

But my stepmom called me up during my nap today--and remember, my nap is structured into my day, like real sleep, so if I want to get anywhere near 7 1/2 hours a day, the nap needs to be inviolate--and immediately advised me to go for a walk so I didn't need my nap.

I womanfully refrained from pointing out that the dogs and I had already done our mile and a half, thank you, and we continued our conversation.

And my sister and I both agreed that we needed to cry foul. We  were raised on the nap, we believed in the sacredness of the in-day nap, and we were going to keep the faith.

Of course, that was easier said than done when we were awakened from our nap and not as coherent as we might be...

Ah, there's always a catch.


Shh... don't tell Mate!

Okay-- I'm the world's WORST secret keeper.

I admit it.

Lots of examples on the blog, on FB, on Twitter.

My gift selection sucks wind (unless I'm knitting for you and then it's awesome by virtue of I said it was awesome so there) and odds are good I'll tell you what your gift is WAY BEFORE you get it.

Sometimes, I'll just casually drop the name of the store... you know, like SUNGLASS HUT. The store where I bought maybe a camp stove, right?

Oi.

So bad.

Anyway--so let's see how long this lasts.

Mate's birthday is Saturday-- and I want to do cupcakes for him for both of his teams-- let's see if I can get that done, right?

But other than that, "What do you want for your birthday, Mate?"

*thinks about King's season tickets and the iPhone 7 he wants for Christmas and the fact that his car has broken down majorly in the past month*  "Nothing. What do you want for your birthday, Amy?"

*Amy thinks about her last yarn purchase and all the pretty pictures she bought at Yaoi-Con and the yarn she purchased this year and will continue to purchase while knitting as fast as humanly possible*  "Uh, nothing. Nothing but date night, my beloved. And, of course, steak."

So, steak and a movie it shall be, and sometimes the oldies are the classics because they're the best, right?

But I had a brain SPARK today, as opposed to a brain FART which is most days, and I got him a present.

See-- how long has he been a coach? Since Zoomboy was 4? That makes this his 8th year coaching.

And usually he's had an assistant coach who was sort of in charge of "carrying shit" but he's also had the thing down-- he knew how to carry the player bench, the bag of soccer balls, the pop up tent, and his coach's bag all in one trip, and me and the kids would grab our chairs and waters and yarn bags and away we'd go.

But see?  All the OTHER parents have these handy dandy collapsible wagons. Mate USED to have a wagon-- non collapsible--that he used until it collapsed, never to move again.

But MATE, he's all like, "I can get that. I can get that. No worries. Just another trip to the car."

It's so dumb. All the money we spend on mom's coffee and yarn, on sweatshirts and goofy T-shirts, but a relatively inexpensive collapsible wagon? Not even on our list.

So I bought him one for his birthday.

Now, usually, he doesn't read the blog, because I tell him EVERYTHING. I mean everything. Things like, "Geez, Amy, I love you but the blow by blow of your colonoscopy was unnecessary. And seriously-- a nap is a nap is a nap."

So I"m going to post it here, because it's TOO GOOD. And I know exactly how I'm going to give it to him.

Every Saturday morning he moves his stuff from the back of his station wagon to the back of my minivan.

It's going to be waiting in the back of the minivan with a card.

Surprise!

So let's see if we can make it work, shall we?

Hee hee hee... shh... don't tell Mate!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01J90FXNU/ref=sr_ph_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1474960730&sr=sr-1&keywords=collapsible+wagon

Sunday, September 25, 2016

Les Mis Filksong

So, when I posted this on FB I said, "I don't know where it came from". This might have been misleading if people thought I got it from somewhere else.

I mean, I wrote it, but I have no idea why.  Just popped into my head and thought I'd share.

So, y'all... do you hear the people sing?

*  *  *
To the tune of "When Tomorrow Comes" from the musical, Les Miserable:

https://youtu.be/gYb9sRLUDyM


Do you see the shit go boom
Followed by the pecs of lustful men
It is the vision of a culture
That will not be bored again
Hear the beating of your heart
And explosions like the sun
Dream of the heaving of hot guys
Who’re about to come!
Will you give an hour or so
To see a relationship advance
Some ships will sink and some will soar
Give AO3 just one more chance!
Gimme a hot guy and someone
Will get in his pants!!!
Do you see the shit go boom
And the hot guys running from the blast
They can’t outrun our ship
Not even Superman’s that fast!
When the fanning of a spark
Into the flames of hot guy’s sex
There’s not a canon fixed in stone
That our ship can’t wreck!

Dreaming of Suits

Well, people have loved Tart and Sweet so far--and have been sad to say goodbye to the guys of Candy Heaven too. I have started sort of a tradition lately of writing a ficlet for a story a couple of weeks after it's out...
And surprise, we're due!

I'm just going to give fair warning though...

I just finished All the Rules of Heaven--which had an urban fantasy slant, and thus 95K of VERY LITTLE SEX. I'm writing a Dreamspun Desire--Manny Get Your Guy-- which is sweet and fluffy and while there is sex, it is NOT GRAPHIC. 

And, well, this is a ficlet. You guys know the couples mentioned have already done it. They're young, they're monogamous, they're primed, they're hot and horny.

I'm serious, people. I need to write some squelchy no-holds-barred fucking.
You've been warned.
*  *  * 

One night in the very near future, the men of Candy Heaven had a strange dreaming time, one where all of the good things were real in their lives...



Ezra was dreaming, one of those oddly illuminated dreams that turned into real things like empty apartments for the taking and trips to Disneyland.

This one was about suits. All of the suits were in Rico's apartment and none of them were at Adam's. In the dream, Ezra was swimming through them--summer weight linen, the fine wool of spring and fall. Formal suits, evening wear, business wear, informal meetings, golf. The textures rumpled under his palms, the coarse rasp of silk, the sleek grain of satin, the rough weave of even the finest vegetable fibers.

He was lost in them, they were slung over Derek and Rico's couch, piled on the bed, shoved in the refrigerator and bursting out of the bathroom.

Ezra shifted in the dream, feeling a warmth, a pressure, in his body.

In his erogenous zones.

A stretching burn in his ass.

A hot wet squeeze on the head of his cock.

He writhed and shifted, vaguely aware that his thighs had been shoved open and he was splayed open for use.  "Miguel?" he said fuzzily. "There's suits coming out my ass."

The pressure around his cock was replaced by cool air--and a hot grip around the shaft.

"Suits?"

Ezra forced his eyes open and tried to remember the last thing he'd done.

Oh yeah. Miguel had been working hard on a project and Ezra had kissed his temple.  "Wake me up if you want to, you know, poke me with that thing," he'd joked quietly, pretty sure Miguel was going to be working all night.

Miguel lay between his spread legs, staring up at him with sober amusement. One hand was on Ezra's cock and the other hand was...

"That's not suits in your ass," Miguel said wickedly. He wiggled his fingers--the ones in Ezra's ass, and Ezra, still lost in dreamland and wildly confused, almost launched off the bed and came.

"My cock's a rocket," he said, not caring about making sense, just caring about having sex. "Now. Now. Whatever... gonna come, gonna please, Miguel, I need you!"

Miguel slid up his body, placing the head of his well-oiled cock at Ezra's entrance. "I need you too," he said, and thrust in.

Ezra had no control like this, still sort of asleep and totally aroused. He gasped, he moaned, he screamed, with abandon, because Miguel, fucking his ass, squeezing his cock between them--Miguel.

"Ohohohohoh..." his hands flailed, at the mercy of everything and Miguel stopped thrusting long enough to capture them above Ezra's head.

"Hold them right here," he ordered, and Ezra nodded, his body so sensitized he was shaking.

"Fuck me harder," he begged, closing his eyes. He had to think, had to concentrate, had to sort the sensations--cock in his ass, pressure in his cockhead, Miguel, moving, moving, moving...

Miguel slammed directly into his sweet spot and he flew apart on a full-throated scream.

"Augh! Baby, keep coming!"

He rutted, filling Ezra full up with cock and cum and sex and...

An aftershock rocked them both, sending Ezra spinning again and Miguel spasming into his arms.

He collapsed top of Ezra and Ezra tried to put what his body had just enjoyed together with what his brain had been doing.

"Suits?" he asked fuzzily.

"What about them?" Miguel mumbled, licking at the skin of his neck. "And that was awesome. Amazing. It was like Ezra  off the chain. We should do that again sometime."

"Have sex? We do that five nights a week."

Miguel laughed weakly. "I mean I should wake you up and nail you before you're all in your head."

"Suits," Ezra said again, this time nodding. "There were suits in my head. Suits in  Rico's bathroom. Suits on Derek's bed. Suits for Adam and Finn."

"Well good," Miguel told him, still not moving. That was fine. Ezra could bear his weight any time. "All those guys have suits and you and me, we'll be naked."

"But Miguel, naked is nothing to wear to a wedding."

Miguel broke into baffled giggles, his breath tickling Ezra's ear, and Ezra giggled too, not even sure why. He'd have to tell Darrin about the suit dream--but he figured he'd leave some parts out.

Like how good Miguel felt when he pulled out of Ezra's body, still thick and dripping, and how the skin of Miguel's neck tasted salty like sweat.

And how Ezra dreamed of kittens, clinging like velcro to his own wedding suit, right after Miguel rolled him over to his stomach and fucked him again.

*  *  *

Finn woke up around one, heard the noise from upstairs and promptly kicked the cat off the bed.

Then he shook Adam awake.

"Wha' da fuck?"

Adam rolled away, cuddling on his other side.

Finn shook him again. "Adam, they're having sex again."

Ezra's voice, muffled from the layers of flooring and bedding between them, was still very distinct when he screamed, "Fuck the suits out of my ass!"

Next to him, Adam went very still, and Finn imagined his deep brown eyes popped open in the darkness.

"We did not hear that," he said.

Finn groaned and rolled over to spoon him, thrusting the terrible aching erection he'd developed in the last ten minutes up against Adam's behind. "I heard that," he insisted. "It made me horny. Put out."

Adam groaned, but not really in complaint.

"I put out all the time. I'm your totally slutty boyfriend."

Finn chuckled, and ran his hands down Adam's naked back and under his boxers. Adam sighed happily and thrust his muscular backside against Finn's palms. "I'm the slutty boyfriend. You're the masterful and virile boyfriend who takes me again and again and again." He punctuated each "again" with an open-mouthed kiss down Adam's spine, and Adam moaned breathily and thrust back some more.

"What do I have to do to be your slutty boyfriend?" Adam asked grumpily.

Finn kept kissing Adam's back, appreciating that he always took a quick shower after work or running. He tasted a little of soap and a little of sweat, because it was late September and not particularly cool yet.

Finn paused as he was about to start wiggling Adam's boxers off, and thought for a moment.

"Bottom," he said, and to his surprise Adam rolled over to his stomach and started shoving his boxers of his hips himself.

"God, yes," Adam muttered. "Get the lube, that'd be awesome."

Finn's erection may not have doubled in size, but it definitely doubled in ache.  Adam didn't have a problem with switching, but Finn... Finn usually imagined himself as the bottom.

Tonight, he got to imagine something different.

Adam pushed his knees under him and his ass up, and Finn suddenly felt masterful and virile and hot.

"Lube?" Adam all but whimpered.

"Rim job first," Finn told him, pulling apart his cheeks and giving him a swipe.

Adam "ohhhhed" into the pillow in front of him, and then some more when Finn fingered him gently, stretching him open.

Finn enjoyed himself back there for a bit, one finger, two, scissoring the two of them, alternating with tongue.  Adam made satisfying, full-chested sex-sounds into the pillow in front of him and Finn got lost in pleasing him.

Then Adam reached down to stroke his own cock and Finn jerked back and popped him on the bottom.

"You're going to make yourself come!" he protested, rooting under the pillow between them for lube.

"Well you're going to make me come first!"

Finn slicked himself up, pausing for a moment to stroke just right, squeeze it, skate his thumb over the end, give himself some foreplay before he got to sink into Adam's tight, muscular backside.

Adam turned his head and scowled. "You are going to--"

"Fuck you," Finn said throatily, the desire raging through is body giving his voice some edge.

"Please!" Adam begged.  HIs voice actually cracked.

"Slow." Finn placed himself right there, right at Adam's opening and pushed gently. It had been a while since they did this and--

"Finn, stop dicking around back there. Fuck me now!"

Surprised--and impossibly aroused, Finn sank into his boyfriend's ass in one hard thrust.

They both gasped and hissed, and Adam urged him into motion again. "Please. Please. Baby, just move. Just nail me. I need you so bad."

Finn thrust forward and pleasure swept his body, up from his balls and across his chest until his nipples and even his hair follicles tingled.

And still those words echoed in his brain, filling him as he put both his hands on Adam's waist, held on tight and began hard, powerful strokes that pleasured them both with maximum density.

No talking for a few, because Finn's heart was too full and his brain was too full and his body was too full, and Adam's ass was pretty damned full too.

For breathless moments only the slap of their own flesh filled the room, and then Adam started stroking himself.  Finn could feel the ripples of orgasm traveling Adam's body, because Finn's cock was at their epicenter and they started rippling up Finn's body too.

"C'mon, Adam," he panted.

"Gonna..."

"C'mon, Adam!"

"Baby, gonna..."

"Adam, dammit! So goddamned close!"

"Finn I"m gonna cum!"

The climax that rocked Adam's body in seismic waves sucked Finn into it and swept him away.

He came to sprawled over Adam's back, his eyes clearing of spots.

Clopper let out three short "woofs" in surprise, because they'd made their own noises too, and then silence washed even Clopper's noises away.

Jake the cat hopped up on the bed and started to nose the side of Finn's arm. Finn shuddered and slid to the side, surprised when Adam rolled over to face him.

And kiss him warmly in the sex-saturated darkness.

"Thanks," he said, brown eyes glinting in the light from the window above them.

That wave of emotion that had swept Finn when Adam said "I need you," wasn't going away.

"What's wrong?" Adam asked, frowning. He wiped his hand on the sheets and then brought it up to Finn's face to thumb away the moisture that was gathering under Finn's eyes.

"Marry me," Finn said into his waiting quiet.  "I need you. Marry me. Marry me tomorrow."

"I can't marry you tomorrow," Adam said gently, kissing him again. Against Finn's lips he murmured, "I don't have a suit."

Finn laughed against his mouth. "I'll buy you a suit for Christmas," he said. "Marry me on the New Year."

Adam closed his eyes, a smile of such peace washing over his face that Finn's eyes burned some more.

"You bet your ass I'll marry you," he whispered, and then he kissed Finn again.

*  *  *

Less than a mile away, Derek got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen.

Rico was up, sitting at his laptop, his black hair pushed up in spikes, his sloe brown eyes half-closed with exhaustion.

"What are you doing up?" Derek asked, scratching at the back of his head.

"I just... I need to buy a suit," Rico said, sounding absolutely puzzled.

Derek wandered over to look over his shoulder, digging his chin into the back of his neck as he did so.

"Rico, that's a wedding suit."

Rico frowned. "Yeah, but it'd look like shit on either of us. Too broad for me, color's all wrong for you..."

"Yeah. Okay. Rico?"

"Yeah?"

"Come back to bed."

"Yeah. Do you think we could get another dog?"

"Sure baby. But bed."

"Why would I need a suit?"

"I don't have a clue. But I love you."

"Love you too."

*  *  *

In a nicely furnished old apartment in Rocklin, Cy sat bolt upright in bed, throwing his two homicidal felines accidentally across the room. Next o him, Robbie startled.

"Easy baby," Cy soothed, rubbing his hand up and down  Robbie's back. Robbie still had dreams about the military--it was Cy's job to calm those down.

"What'ryoudoin?" Robbie mumbled.

Cy slid down under the covers, hugging his soldier boy tight. "I had a dream I was dancing in a white tuxedo."

"I'll bet you looked good," Robbie said, one of those natural moments of Robbie worshiping the ground Cy walked on that Cy had resolved never to take for granted.

"I looked fantastic. You were in black. You looked damned good."

"Good. Let's go back to sleep. Maybe we'll dance some more. Like dancing."

Cy spooned Robbie Chambers tightly. Cy liked dancing too. "It's gotten so much better since we started dancing together," he confessed. "I want to dance with you forever."

"Yeah. Let's dream about that."

Sure.

*  *  *

Darrin didn't dream at all that night. He slept like a baby next to his lover, secure in the knowledge that his boys had it covered.

But when Adam and Finn broke the news about the wedding the next day, he was both happily surprised and very put out.

He resolved never to take a break again.




Friday, September 23, 2016

The Hot Sheet


Okay-- seriously not that hot, but it's the weird mundane minutia that's been making up my week:

*  Geoffie the rotten dog still needs one more medication. Tomorrow I'll get it at the grocery store and then it's eyedrops ho!

*  Squish is running for student council again because she's gonna rule the world.

* That weird little alien thing happened on the TV and Squish screamed and ran away. Remember this is the kid that's gonna call Sam and Dean to scare away the freaky things attacking her in the dead of night, and this alien scared her.

*  ZB will be lucky to get through school this year, because if his sister's gonna rule the world, he's gonna slack in it.

* I watched the Lethal Weapon reboot last night and was pleasantly surprised. Also fun was Designated Survivor. Oh my God, I'm so excited-- TV isn't dead after all!  Now I just have to watch the last five eps of last season's Supernatural, and I can be ready to face the season!

*  Freckles will be out in November, and I was going to do a cover reveal eventually, but it's part of the Christmas bundle and we're waiting for someone else's story before we can post the link. I want you to see this cover SO BAD! It's adorable.

*  Summer Lessons will be out at the end of November/beginning of December. This is the sequel to Winter Ball, and I'll post the cover as soon as I get it! I've gotten some lovely feedback for this--it's Mason's story, and for those of you who read Winter Ball, Mason was Skip and Richie's rather blurry, inappropriate boss.

* This music video happened thirteen years ago and I just saw it now:




And I"m going to leave you with that video, and all of the things I want to write because of it. My retroactive crush on The Boxer Rebellion is going quite well, thank you!

Thursday, September 22, 2016

Scary, Mommy, make it go away!

So, a short short blog tonight--but possibly a longer one tomorrow. I've got to tell you guys, that whole "writing sex" thing NEEDS to happen.

But for my short short blog...


So, we were driving down the road when we came to as top behind a bus. But not just any bus--one of the busses with the guy on the back, the "pedestrian wearing armor" guy.

And the dogs started to lose their shit.

It took me a minute--I looked from the bus and back to the dogs and then back to the bus.

And it hit me.

The dogs think the guy was going to bust through our window.

I mean, think about it--their whole life spent on patrol for guys with hats and beards, and suddenly they clean cut youth was going to just plunge through.

So there you go, you noisy little assholes. You keep the cute models away, because otherwise I'm sure we'd be eyeball deep in awesome looking athletic men with futures, trying to break into our cars in the morning.

And that would be a shame.


Wednesday, September 21, 2016

Decorations


I admit it-- I made a VERY dangerous discovery in the last two days.

Three of them, actually.

They involve decorating.

The first one was that I can draw on my photos on FB. You heard me. DRAW on my photos. So, Chicken's cat, with the angel wings, that was the result.

The other result was that I could put stickers on the pictures in Twitter. Can you see that? STICKERS. Yes. Like, say, a bat, a flower, a snake, a bunny, and an octopurt on a rather bleak NorCal post-summer landscape.

Or, you know, kitty ears and a pirate hat on small dogs.

Or a beard on my son.

You can see the possibilities, right? The very, very, very awesome... I mean dangerous... I mean AWESOME possibilities, right?

Also?

After years of buying art and hiding it and finding some place to put it where someday I might possibly find it again and put it in a private office I would have if and when all the kids moved out and I got my shit together...

I said fuck it and bought art this weekend that I put up on my wall.

Yes, it's a little inappropriate... (Okay, the print from Lost in the Snow is a LOT inappropriate, as is the one from Young Justice) but NOBODY GOES BACK to this corner of the living room. I had to stand up to get an unobstructed view for the pictures.

But I know.

I write gay romance.

I like pictures of hot guys kissing.

Or hot guys who could potentially kiss.

Or superheroes and heroines about to kick ass.

Or muscles.

Or damn dat ass.

Or frozen moments, pregnant with possibility.

Or that breath before almost touching.

Or things to imagine as I write, so I can be excited that today, my guys might get to kiss. Oh, holy buckets, they might even get to fuck.

So, uh, yeah, that.

I needed that on my walls.

And now I have it.

And it makes me very happy.

And now I'm going to go write some more... and plan to take more pictures of the dogs to doodle on in Twitter and FB. Because... because...

JUST FRICKIN' BECAUSE!!!

*laughs with glee and runs away*







Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Zzzzzz...-- and Z. Allora

I may start declaring a blogging moratorium on the day I get back from a business trip, because seriously...

What do I have to blog about?

"Well, this morning I got up, got the kid to school, took the dogs for a walk, sat down to work and zzzzzzzz...."

"And I got up, got the kids, got home, sat down for a minute to watch some cartoons with them and Zzzzzzzz..."

"And now, at 12 a.m., I'm going to go to bed and--"

Yeah-- you get the picture.

Pretty much nothing to do but sleep.

However--

I have a really excellent memory of YC that I didn't mention and I need to.

Yesterday, as I was hauling my stuff out to the car, I got up to the floor level, managed the suitcase up the half-level of steps, into the elevator, out of the elevator, and across the car port only to realize that I'd left my keys in the room and had to do the same thing over again.

Ugh!

But on the way back the second time, I met Z. Allora-- author of Lock and Key. 

She and her husband helped me to my car and she reminded me of this--

Back during my second Yaoi-Con, she arrived a little bit exhausted and punchy from the plane ride from China.  She'd read Locker Room on the way.

And she was so excited to meet me. 

I remember her because it's hard not to--she's adorable and bubbly, and such a beautiful presence.  

And as we were unloading bags and walking back (I mean she and her husband were on their way to eat when they saw me) she told me what a thrill this year was for her. She had her own booth this year, and her own publishing company and books that she'd written to market.

And she was at the same con I was.

Now, I know all of my own flaws and all of the things I've done wrong in my life, personally and professionally, and often they weigh me down like invisible and defunct wings.

But if I did or said anything to Z. Allora that helped make it possible for her to be at this con, marketing her own books, excited about writing and the business and all of the lovely, amazeballs madness that ensues?

I've done something good.

So thanks, Z. Allora-- you helped me remember what it's like to be proud and excited and bubbly and anticipating all of the amazing things yet to be written, yet to be read.  

And seriously-- thanks for the help back to my car. The second time after I went back and got my keys would have totally sucked without you ;-)