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

Monday, May 30, 2016

The Wrong Way to Cook

Long day, really. Got up, took Geoffie to the doc for her checkup (she is, as the doc said, disgustingly healthy. All she's got to worry about is some itchy skin and an underbite, so basically she's me as a teenager.)  Then I took the kids to the pool while I did my early aqua class and then we played for half-an-hour after. (This turned out to be too long, because even after some serious sunblock application, Squish crisped at the edges. I need to remember--blue-eyed red-head. We're lucky she didn't turn into a giant blister and burst.)

Fun-- but extra time in the pool is extra exhausting.  We got home and went to buy shoes. I know that sounds like my kids are totally spoiled, but fact is, Squish was still wearing winter boots--and they were getting both old AND small, and pretty hot!

So they both needed flip-flops and tennis shoes and, well, there were these Skechers with Luke and Leia on them, like from the original Star Wars poster? They were a half-a-size big for Zoomboy, but seriously, the boy is 5'2" and a size 9 in the 7th grade. I think he's good for it before September. And if he isn't, Chicken might steal them when she comes to visit. I asked Mate if he could wear them, but he said--and I quote, "No, because I'm a legitimate 10."

-.-  "So, like, he's an illegitimate 10. Doesn't that make him, like, a 9?"

"Shut up. I mean my feet are too big for them."

"Sure. Cause you're a legitimate 10."

Uh, yeah. Sarcasm. We own it here.

Anyway, so I got about four hours of sleep last night, and had a busy day, and after about an hour of Coraline when we got home (because world's most beautiful movie) I had to go nap.  I woke up two hours later, dazed and drooling, and starving. 

Starving.

I stumbled into the kitchen and made myself an English muffin and threw a bag of Brussel sprouts in the microwave and then tried to wrap my head around something to eat for the rest of the humans.

Now, usually, I can do this. I can. I've written articles and essays on how to just chuck shit in a pan for my family. But this time...

Maybe it was the sun, or the fun, or the shoes (I got a couple of pairs--their flip-flops are THE BEST) and maybe it was the nap, but I couldn't brain.  What I ended up with was... well, ground beef, potatoes, spaghetti sauce, olives and cheese served over bread.  Mate came in to help me and salted it all one more time, and...

Uh.

Yeah.

But you know what? He dressed my Brussel Sprouts and went and got me root beer after dinner. I'm not complaining, and anyone who didn't want to eat "potato hamburger surprise it's spaghetti!"could make himself some soup. And Zoomboy did.

But I know what I'm doing tomorrow--and it's not shopping for dance shoes, which was the other thing on our list that didn't get done.

*sigh*  The grocery store. They love me. I seem to buy just eclectic scads of shit. And now we know why.


Scorched Haven: Part 8--Respite

So, today was completely boring until Steve brought in a dead bird about twenty minutes ago. I shooed her out, and then Geoffie followed her, bringing the bird back.

I took the bird away and IT WASN'T REALLY DEAD.

But it WAS really mangled, and... so sad. Scared and freaked out and, you know, dying.

I put it back outside, up away from where the cat could get it, but somewhere peaceful where it could die surrounded by summer smells and dark.

Damn. Dead thing was icky-- but LIVE thing was tragic. I was NOT expecting that.

So, to move our minds from that, we've got Zeb and Colton, and what happens at night.

* * *

Zeb pulled up to the gas station warily, and looked down at his clothes in despair.

His borrowed sweats were caked in blood, not that they'd been too clean in the first place. Colton's clothes were way worse, but with a bullet hole in the front and back that couldn't be explained away. He sat there, car at the pump, thinking about turning into a wolf and shoplifting clothes, when a tiny man, maybe 4-feet tall with thin, delicate features and limbs, came trotting out.

"Go inside!" he called. "Get clothes. Get food. Wash up!" He held out his wrist, and it was covered with a tattoo--limes resting in the heart of a blooming rose.

Zeb was so grateful he almost cried.

"We're Green's," he said--unnecessarily, because it seemed this man already knew. He pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt where a giant thorn-less rose rested, it's stem sprouting oak leaves, a lime hanging from each leaf where an acorn might ordinarily go.

"I know," the little man said, flashing a grin replete with spiny teeth. "Nibbles. I'm Nibbles. Let me doctor your car. Go doctor selves."  He turned his smile to Colton in the passenger's seat, who, to his credit, got a little wide-eyed but didn't say a thing.

"That's a deal," Zeb said, getting out of the car.

"Roll up windows!" Nibble said. "Blessed wash, first. Goddess's children, you know."

"Oh!" Zeb felt stupid, and he turned the key enough to roll the windows up before turning it off and getting out. Colton got out on his side, and they headed for the gas station. "Thank you, Master Nibbles," Zeb said respectfully. Adrian had drilled that into all of his converts--you respect the elves, because they protected the vampires and the were-creatures. And the vampires and were creatures navigated the human world for the fey.

"You're Green's. Green's good. We're Green's. Oh! Hot metal!" As Zeb approached the door he looked back and saw Nibbles's limbs splitting, dividing into many, like tree-root hairs. One of his sturdier limbs reached for a hose near the bottom of the pump, and Nibbles started spraying the car down.

"What's he doing?" Colton asked, "I mean, who is he, and what is he doing?"

"Well, he's one of the lower fey," Zeb said, remembering his hierarchy lessons upon coming to the hill. "Fey don't usually touch cars. It's one of the things we can do but they can't. Some of them though--the metal workers--they're good at it. But they need to bless the car first--salt water and herbs, to remove the taint of man. Anyway, Nibbles is making the car safe so he can work on it while we shop."

"We're going to shop Chevron?" Colton asked, and then the second door swung open and he let out an appreciative whistle.

Clothes--about three racks, every size from child's size to men's 4X sweats and T-shirts. Two pairs of men's Large cargo shorts and a couple of T-shirts weren't that hard to find. The T-shirts were plain colors--Colton grabbed rust and then handed Zeb a green one.

"Uh, thank you?"

Colton just looked at him evenly, a slight smile on his face. "You have nice eyes," he observed mildly.

Zeb couldn't fight the flush that tried to crawl past his neck.  "Thanks," he said, looking anywhere but into Colton's eyes. "You do too."

"So, men's room?"

There was a small shower in the men's room--in the back corner, with a drain and a boundary, so the water didn't flood the floor. Zeb made Colton go first, while he ran into the gas station and found some shampoo and soap, and, of course, a gaudily colored beach towel from the racks of clothes. When he got back, he threw the towel at Colton and started to strip himself.

Colton stopped him. "You're not even going to look?" he asked, and Zeb met his eyes grimly and then looked his fill.

His original impression remained. Not tall--but broad in the shoulders, even at nineteen or twenty. Slim-hipped, with a square jaw and thick, shiny hair down to his shoulders. And warm golden eyes.

"You're a good looking kid," Zeb said gruffly. "I thought that when I first saw you. What we did--that wasn't a hardship for me."

Colton nodded, looking unhappy. "I needed it."  He closed his eyes. "I need it... like fire in my heart and my thighs and my... my cock."

Zeb stripped quickly, while Colton watched, and then throwing his clothes in the trash. He walked into  Colton's space and leaned forward, brushing his lips against Colton's temple. "It's like that," he said quietly. "The first week or so. It takes you and you could fuck a tree if one was willing. Don't worry. I'll be your tree. When you're ready to leave me behind, you'll know the blood fever is all gone."

Colton closed his eyes with Zeb's caress, and leaned into him. "What makes you think it will go away?"

Zeb took the next few steps into the shower and turned it on, grabbing the bottle and using the soap liberally, glad the soap and the spray gave him an excuse to avoid the boy's eyes. "Werewolves mate for life," he said, eyes closed. "I'm nobody important, Colton. You'll have... like a banquet at Green's. Better meals than me."

He rinsed his hair then, scraping the water back from his eyes before he turned off the spray.  When he could see again, Colton was no closer to being dressed. He was staring at Zeb's body, long and lean with a bare patch of hair between his pecs. Zeb had blue eyes but he was one of those guys who sported a beard after two days, and it was already growing in.

"Uh..." Zeb reached his hand out for the towel, and Colton unwrapped it from his waist, crossing his arms unrepentantly. Zeb dried his hair first, and then his body, and then, uncertain, he used the towel on the floor while he grabbed his clothes off the counter. "What are you looking at?"

"You," Colton said quietly. He stepped in behind Zeb and took the underwear out of his hands, pressing his slightly damp body up along the back of Zeb's. Zeb closed his eyes, aware of how long it had been since he'd had a long, sweaty, heart-pounding bout of sex.

"I'm... I mean, we don't want to do this here. I saw some camping gear in the station--we can--nungh..."

Colton was kissing the back of his neck, the line of his shoulder, back up to his ear.

"Colton?" Zeb whimpered, his cock full and aching, with just the press of bodies, a simple caress.

"You don't look like a tree," Colton whispered, thrusting up against Zeb's backside. Zeb moaned, holding on hard to the counter.

"That's not what I meant," he muttered, although he could have made a case for sporting wood.

"You meant I should use you." Colton leaned forward and pulled gently on Zeb's chin, until Zeb met his mouth in one of those awkward, over-the-shoulder kisses that made him want so much more.

Colton pulled away and Zeb nodded, feeling both pain and pride. "It would be my privilege to be so used," he said formally.

Colton shook his head then, and backed away. Zeb slouched for a moment against the counter, and then grabbed his clothes one more time, handing Colton his.

"YOu'll need it," Zeb said, trying to make it clear that there was no judgment here. "Colton, it's real noble to say you're not going to take me--use me. But you'll need it." Quickly he slid into his boxers,  adjusting himself against arousal, and then climbed into his cargo shorts and T-shirt, grateful when Colton did the same.

He bent and picked up the sodden towel then, wringing it out and folding it neatly. He knew all the stuff in the station was there's to use--Green didn't operate on a cash exchange, but rather one of fealty and service--but the towel would be useful, and he made a mental note to grab a dry one while they were "shopping" the store.

He drew near to the door, waiting expectantly for Colton to open it so they could leave, but he didn't. Instead, he reached out and clasped Zeb's hand, bringing to carefully to his lips.

"I didn't say I wouldn't need the sex," Colton said quietly. "I just said I'm not going to use you and lose you."

Zeb thought he was above being touched--but he wasn't. He fought a burning behind his eyes. "You're a great kid," he said, voice thick. "But we mate for life. You keep hanging out with me after your new werewolf thing wears off, and you're going to be stuck with me. And kid, I wanted better things for you than that. I sat under that porch and listened to you trying to figure out your life, and I wanted better things for you than what you had planned. That hasn't changed. Better things. Better than me. I'll be your tree--that'll be good."  He closed his eyes. "That'll be real good."

Colton brushed his lips gently against Zeb's. When he pulled back, he brushed a kiss on each of Zeb's eyelids, and along his temple. "I want you so bad," he whispered in the hollow of Zeb's ear. "But I wanted you when you sat next to me in the car and tried to make me laugh. Trust me, Zeb. This isn't going away."

"Sure," Zeb said, his knees weak--but not his resolve. "C'mon. Let's go get some gear."

Colton snaked a hand around Zeb's waist and hauled him in for a brutal, frustrated kiss. Zeb melted against him, out of starch to fight.  Colton had to be the one who ended it, jerking his hips back and feathering his knuckles along Zeb's cheekbone.

"You're important to me," he whispered.

Then he opened the door.



Sunday, May 29, 2016

Movie Saturday

Okay-- I'll be honest. I caught up with a LOT of work tonight--editing for Rampant as well as writing-- but what also happened is what Mate calls "Movie Saturday"-- which is sort of exactly what it sounds like.

Today, we were lucky--it feels like you actually do something when you go to the movies. "Hurray! I am contributing to my child's growth in some way, right? RIGHT?"  Some Saturdays just become a delightful worship of cable's best and worst. (Mate has some truly lovely holy grails of crappy movies. Harley Jane Kozak was his celebrity crush for a few years, if that tells you anything.)

So, yes. That is the reason there are no werewolves today. I promise-- promise-- tomorrow. I admit-- this was a big week, and things got away from me.

But, although this is a teeny tiny post? I've got one thing: X-Men: Apocalypse.  I thought I was totally over this franchise, but as it turns out? Not so much. This one made me fall in love all over gain.

And I just woke up after typing that. Seriously-- night all. Werewolves tomorrow. Even nap.

Night!

Friday, May 27, 2016

I Am the Walrus?

A. Those shooting pains in  my kneecap were arthritis. I can now say I have it. The stuff that felt like tendonitis in the IT band was tendonitis in the IT band. *bows* You're welcome.

B. When asked if I used the nighttime pain relief I was prescribed yesterday, I replied, "No, because going to bed dizzy and disoriented is my favorite."  The PT laughed--and proceeded to give me some very good advice on how to avoid pain, if possible. Yay!

C. We drove to San Francisco tonight to have dinner with Mate's Aunt Margie and her delightful friends. Huzzah!

D. The Fairmont hotel in San Francisco is REALLY NICE.

E. The kids enjoyed ordering from the three course menu. But Squish was sorry she let dad talk her out of ACTUAL MUSSELS arriving at her table.

F. Zoomboy was proud to lead us all in a rousing rendition of Happy Anniversary to You!  It was Tom and Margie's 50th. They were very, very sweet.

G. Listening to the piano player was a trip. I heard a classical rendition of "I Am the Walrus", "Girl", "Crazy", "Phantom of the Opera", "Yellow Submarine", and "Peanuts".  Zoomboy and I danced to "Peanuts".

H. I'd like to thank Mary Taylor from FB who shared with me the perfect meme for yesterday's post--it featured a lightning strike, a burning building, and the caption, "Thank you, Jesus, that spider is dead now."  Yes. Whatever it takes. The spider needs to be dead.

I. Between PT in the morning and San Francisco at night? Color me done, folks! Chat with you Saturday!

Amy

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Giant Horned Poisoned Slugs--With Fangs!

Squish and Zoomboy had to run stuff out to the garbage.

They came running back in, screaming, "Oh my God! It's horrible! I'm so scared!"

Real tears-- faces scrunched up, hysterical-- inconsolable.

Mate and I remained skeptical. "What was it again?" we asked.

"It was a SLUG," Zoomboy cried. "THIS BIG." He held his hands out to indicate the slug that ate New York.

"If it's that big," Mate muttered to me, "I'm going to donate it to science and have them name it after me!" (This was a little unfair to himself, seeing that I"m the one who has barely moved in three days, thank you tendonitis of the IT band. Urg.)

"Show me," Mate said, putting on his shoes. "Let's go see this slug."

"No! For it will eat us and we may die!" they screamed. (I am paraphrasing here-- it was hard to make out real words in all of the hysterical sobbing.)

Finally he talked them out to the trash cans, and a few minutes later they came back in.

"It was a lizard," he said, baffled. "About this big."  His fingers indicated six inches.  "You ran over its back with the trash can. It was dying."

"Oh! That's so sad!"  Because I like lizards, mostly. They're sort of the friendliest reptile, at least the smaller ones out here. No poison, no fangs, just an appetite for crawlies. Go lizard go!

"But the... the... THING!" Zoomboy wailed.

"That was it's TAIL! I know you didn't mean to--he was probably under the trash can before you pulled it out. But, you know. A lizard!"

"So, not a giant fanged poison slug of the apocalypse?" I clarified. "We are safe?"

"Apparently so."

Later on tonight, as I sat in my chair, knitting peacefully and watching-- finally-- the season finale of Sleepy Hallow (for those of you wondering why I haven't seen the one of SPN yet, you now know where I am in the DVR timeline) Squish looked up quite calmly.

"Oh mother--mother dear," she said. (And in this case I am exaggerating for contrast. She was remarkably unruffled.)

"Yes?"

"A wee spider just scuttled under your chair."

I was a bit alarmed. "A small one? Are you sure? Not big and hairy with fangs?"

"No. But it was black. You know, like a spider who might have lost her husband. I thought you ought to know."

So, given that I am moving too slowly to leap out of the chair and throw it back against the wall in the quest for giant fanged ACTUALLY VENOMOUS SPIDERS,  there's a possible black widow spider wandering around somewhere near my yarn.

And the kids killed a guardian lizard big enough to catch and eat it.

I'm starting to think we really DO deserve giant horned poisoned slugs with fangs. At least Mate and I could have the species named after us.

Tuesday, May 24, 2016

And Back On Line...

So, the interwebs went down. It was awful. I had to stop my junkie computer tap from one site to another. *shudder*  Like it was a bad dream.

Anyway--it's back up, and I am blogging again.

Sadly, I'm mostly doing the old middle-aged woman thing tonight and whining--so, you know, maybe loiter a bit until the weekend or something exciting happens.

This Sunday my knee started to slip. Mostly I have three things to do when this happens.  One is to only exercise moderately--so, a brief trip around the block and not the whole mile. The other is to make sure I make it to my aqua class and then sit for a while in the hot tub. The third thing is the one I have the hardest time doing, and that's not driving.

Monday, I sat in the hot tub for a good long time, and then, between picking up kids and getting lunch, I was in the car for a hour.

And then I couldn't move.

Last night was a misery of trips to the bathroom and a fierce ache along my IT band that no motrin could relieve. This morning, I could barely walk. Fun stuff!

Anyway--this morning, I was supposed to take my mom--my real mom, the one with many marbles and a few cats missing-- to the DMV. She lost her ID card and she needs help in public situations. Anybody would need help at the DMV-- dudes. Those forms have to be filled out EXACTLY. I'm like, "But I am NOT an exactly person!" and they were like, "We're sorry. Do it again!" Actually, when they realized that Mate and I (Mate had to drive, because I couldn't) were there to help her, they were VERY understanding. They sent my mom ahead in line twice while one of us filled out paperwork. They were great.

But still.

Dudes. The DMV, and I could barely walk.

I brought my knitting, and after I'd pulled it out, I realized my mom was sort of sitting there, looking lost and befuddled. I pulled out my phone and showed her how to play Flow--it's one of those basic games on the phone that kids and grownups can play.

She played a few hands and figured it out (which was pretty good, actually, because until this moment she hasn't even been able to look at pictures on the phone without accidentally turning it off) and suddenly she said, "But Amy, what do I get if I win?"

Hunh. Not even the kids have asked that question.

"Uh, I guess you get to not be bored at the DMV?"

"That's all?"

She played a few more rounds and then gave me back my phone. I was sort of non-plussed, really. There's another reward for games on your phone? I had no idea.

Anyway-- we got her squared away and then came home. Mate went to pick up the kids and I got a nap in, because last night had sort of been a craptastic bit of sleep.

And the rest of the day was working while the kids played. And watching Fozzy Bear on Chris Hardwick, of course.

But it got me thinking. I pulled Mate out of work, and made him take me and my mother to the DMV. And then he had to come home and pick up the kids, and then even make dinner because I wasn't moving.

What sort of reward did he get, besides my eternal gratitude.

According to him, getting out of work was enough, but still.

I guess I can see where Alexa was coming from. There should be a bigger prize than that.


Monday, May 23, 2016

Ficlet Weekend: Scorched Haven, Part 7

*yawn*

Saw Angry Birds today, and then came home and slept. I don't know why I was so tired--but wow. Just, you know, wow.

Anyway, the movie was amusing--I enjoyed it, possibly because I enjoy writing grumpy fuckers like Bracken and Rance and Sonny, and I like the level of sincerity a character like that can show us.

So, that's not really a segue, but it does get us to Zeb, who isn't so much grumpy as "trying to be detached and failing".  And to Colton, who's name I liked so much I named my fictional small town after him, in the book I'm working on now, Geezers in Love. 

I may have to rethink that name... hmmm... but in the meantime, enjoy!

*  *  *  *

Zeb never forgot what a gift his wolf form was.

He loved smelling his world like a wolf, because even if the smells were bad, they were three dimensional, and his brain did whole other things with smells as a wolf than they did as a human. He loved seeing the world in terms of blue sky and prey.

He loved hunting.

Confidently he led Colton the wolf down a small animal track, nostrils flared, in search of game. Oh yes--there we go. A jackrabbit!

Behind him, Colton whined, probably with hunger, but Zeb growled, keeping him on the leash. Don't spook dinner, dammit!  He threw a glare behind him and gestured with his muzzle to a large patch of rushes at the bole of giant tree. They were running through orchard land, and this tree didn't fit in with the others. It wasn't fruit bearing for one, and it was old--a willow perhaps? Birch? Zeb didn't know dick about trees, but this one was meant for shade over a swimming hole.  There were probably rabbits in there.

Sure enough, while Zeb watched, Colton blundered through the brushes, clumsy as a human, and three jackrabbits popped out, running toward Zeb at full speed.

Snap! Snap! Swipe!

Zeb moved with the Goddess's speed (he'd heard Cory call it hyper speed) and took down all three bunnies, then yipped shortly to Colton.

Who was there in a heartbeat, devouring them, bones, skin, and all.

Zeb waited patiently, nursing his own hunger. He was the grownup here--he'd had his own first transition three years earlier, in controlled circumstances, about three weeks after he'd been bitten and cleansed of his addictions.  There had been a ceremony, and a chance to run with all of the other were creatures under the full moon. Afterwards he'd ended up back in his room at Green's hill, a random pixy boy in his bed.

The run had been glorious and the sex had been sweet--if not repeatable. Unless they had a bonded marriage (a thing so rare Zeb knew of only a few couples who had done it) the fey tended to be promiscuous as a rule.

But, as he'd learned in the following three years, sometimes the moment was as important as the future after it, and that moment had made him happy.

Zeb didn't have a full moon feast to give Colton, or a sweet little pixy boy to teach him about happy sex, or an Adrian to tell him that his fuckups didn't matter, he still had so much to offer.

All he had was three rabbits, and the wherewithal to wait for a frozen burrito at the gas station before they were forced to flee again.

Colton finished the final jackrabbit, grunting a bit in what was still hunger, but obviously sated enough to think.  Zeb jerked his nose toward the car, and Colton gave a downcast look.

Yeah, it was cool being a werwolf-- he probably wanted more time.

Zeb licked his ear gently, understanding, and then gave it a little tug.  Colton nodded, and together they trotted back to the car.

For a moment as they drew near, Zeb panicked. He couldn't remember how he'd figured out how to turn back--one minute, he'd been an animal with his pack, and the next he'd been...oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no--

He was in the middle of a full-blown panic when Green sounded faintly in his head. Fight it or fuck it, Mate--pick your comedown. 

Zeb remembered now. He'd become human because there'd been a cute pixy boy, naked and grinning, stroking his pink and blue cock in the middle of the Goddess Grove. Suddenly Zeb had been naked too, and stroking it for him.

Oh.

Zeb picked up speed, hoping to get to the car in time to change, hoping he could give Colton some of what he'd need before the boy got rough. Zeb could take it--like Colton, he healed bullet wounds within minutes. But there was a lingering guilt when you hurt someone during intimacy, even if the Goddess had a hold of you and you were trying to fight it.

He arrived at the car about two hundred yards ahead of Colton and, looking quickly to make sure they were still unmolested on this empty stretch of road, he changed.  And closed his eyes and thought of Colton, naked, wanting, his skin aching with need.

It didn't take him long to get hard--a few moaning strokes of his cock.  He heard a rustle from the weeds by the car, and when he opened his eyes, Colton was there, in wolf form, gazing at him masturbating with hunger in his golden wolf's eyes.  Zeb met those eyes and sucked his thumb into his mouth, and then, very deliberately, skated his thumb across the dripping bell of his cock.

That quickly, Colton was a man, naked, crouching before Zeb, and he pulled Zeb's cock into his mouth like it was the thing that would save his life.

Zeb groaned, sagging back against the car, and let him. Suck, suck, suck, suck... oh, that's a boy-- you know what you need. You need it filling you, your mouth, your throat. You need me, servicing you, slipping my finger behind you, making you scream--

"Aaah!" Zeb screamed, arching and spilling down Colton's throat. God, that had been quick--and he needed to be just as quick on the return. Colton wouldn't be able to think--wouldn't be able to run--unless he got this need met. Damn changeling werewolf biology-- it certainly didn't help two guys on the run.

Colton was still suckling--and Zeb was getting hard again--but that couldn't happen. Not now. Zeb reached down and grabbed Colton by the hair, pulling him up as he whimpered reluctantly.

"My turn," Zeb grated, whirling Colton around so he could lean against the car.  But first... oh Goddess. This poor kid--forced to change on the run. Forced by drives he barely understood to do this thing, this private thing, with a guy he hardly knew. Zeb pressed their mouths together, urgently, taking him in a carnal kiss of apology, apology for getting him shot, for making him change, for dirty sex on the side of the road. He tasted rabbit blood, salt, even tears, and it didn't repel him, because they'd been wolves together, and this thing they were doing, even as humans, it was still mostly wolf.

Colton let out a sigh and then a whine, his hard, muscular body thrusting up against Zeb's without thought. He needed--so bad it probably hurt--and Zeb dropped to his haunches and took what was truly a magnificent cock into his mouth. Thick and uncut, Zeb pulled the foreskin back and played gently with the bell against his palate and tongue. He was rewarded with Colton's whine and rough fingers in his hair.

"Zeb, it hurts... my skin's gonna explode!" he moaned.  Zeb rewarded his honesty with a strong fisted stroke, and a firmer pressure on the cockhead. "Yesssss..."

And again, and again, and faster and harder, until Colton was holding his head and thrusting his hips, shoving that thing down Zeb's throat while Zeb gave thanks he didn't gag. Oh Lord, this kid felt so good in his mouth--his smell and his taste were intoxicating, his thickness filling and good. He shoved his head forward, taking Colton to the back of his throat and it was Colton's turn to whine, Colton's turn to scream, while Zeb swallowed hard, swallowed it all, gave thanks for more, and took all that kid had to give.

At last, he was done, and Zeb leaned his head against Colton's thigh for a minute's respite.

"Zeb?" Colton asked uncertainly.

Zeb looked up and smiled, taking the kid's offered hand and standing, then pulling him into a tight, comforting embrace. "Good kid," he whispered. "Good kid--you did fine. It's okay. Don't worry about the sex--it wasn't wrong. Not your fault. You did good."

Colton relaxed into him, pliant and needy for a moment as Zeb didn't think he was that often. "Thank you," he breathed. "Thank you. Thank you."

"You did good."

"Thank you."

One more moment, holding him. One more moment consoling him for all the things he'd lost and all the frighting things he'd gained. One more moment, their bare skin pressed together in the dusty sun.

And then they had to change and run, because one moment was all they could afford.




Saturday, May 21, 2016

Cats and Balls

Short post tonight...

So, went to a party for some friends of Mate's from soccer. They were LOVELY people--and talk about creative with the home and yard stuff-- everything they did was like Pinterest but better. I was impressed. (People who get creative with home decor always impress me. I'm just glad home is still standing. It's all I'm saying.)

Anyway-- they had a deep fryer, and Mate pre-made some Mac and Cheese balls to deep fry.  They came out great-- big and breaded and crispy on the outside and gooey on the inside.

However, Mate was forever to be known as the nice man with the big brown balls.  It was funny, right? A convo starter. "Hey man-- how you doing? Those balls are pretty damned big!" "Oh yes they are, would you like to taste my balls?"  You know--because we're all twelve, especially when there's beer and jello shooters. Saying.

So, Mate came to sit next to me, and the hostess's cat runs out of nowhere and jumps into his lap. The hostess was much impressed. "That cat doesn't talk to anybody! That's amazing!"

"You know," I said, shrugging. "Cat's love a guy with fuzzy balls."

(You saw that coming, right? But I swear it happened.)

And tomorrow, hopefully some Scorched Haven!

Friday, May 20, 2016

Find That Kid!

So,  I went to Squish's volunteer tea today--which was lovely. It's an event thrown by the PTA and the teachers to say thanks for volunteering, and I felt like such a fraud--I'm only there a couple of times a year but Squish's teacher is so kind-- she asked, and I showed.

Well, I parked myself in the way back--the mercenary's spot, I call it. Back to the wall, space on either side, can see everything.

And then the choir filed in, right behind me.

Oops!

Anyway, Squish was in the choir-- and I'd asked her if she needed her blue shirt and she said no, and I was right and she was wrong.

But it didn't matter.

Know why?

Because.  Look at that picture above.  You all know what she looks like by now-- bright red hair, taller than almost everyone in the 4th grade?

But these are fourth, fifth, and sixth graders, and there IS a little red-haired girl here, but she's not Squish.

I sent that picture to Mate, and he texted back, I don't see her.

So I cropped the picture.  See there? Behind the kid with the Marvel shirt, and the kid behind him with the blue shirt, there is an arm in a pink sweatshirt.

I sent it to Mate, with directions.

I still don't see it. You're making her up.

So the irony here?

I got there, all suave, thinking I was setting myself up to hide in the back, right?

And my kid is a better spy than I am, in the fourth grade, with hair like a sunrise.

I'm impressed.

And the music wasn't bad either.

Oh yeah-- before I went? I got my toes done.  The woman in the chair next to me was a former teacher--she knew Squish's choir teacher, and was thrilled to hear we had a string program. She has some resources to offer the new teacher. I did that. Making the world better one pedicure at a time. (We won't discuss my eyebrows though. What happened to my eyebrows does nothing good for anybody. Saying.)

So... do you see her yet?


Thursday, May 19, 2016

Quick Queue

So...

Shirt, which is FREE AT DSP and ARE and $.99 at Amazon was released today. It is, in fact, the PREQUEL to Phonebook which was released earlier this year and is free in the same places and a dollar at that other one!  These were some of the first things I wrote for DSP, and they're VERY SHORT ON PURPOSE.  I like to call them "Amuse Bouches."  They're not even appetizers, they just tease the palate.  Shirt was originally in an anthology called Curious, but the book went out of print, and DSP was generous enough to give me covers for the two stories so I could give them away!

Enjoy!

And since I was announcing a story that was out, I thought I'd give you a brief version of my queue :-)


The Green's Hill Novellas  (previously released separately as Litha's Constant Whim, Guarding the Vampire's Ghost, and I Love You, Asshole) is out in June.

Fish Out of Water is out in early July.

Tart and Sweet (formerly Licorice Whip) is out in September.

Rampant Vol. 1 is out in October.

Summer Lessons (Formerly Summer Club) is out in November.

Rampant Vol. 2 is also out in Nov/December.

Freckles (my yearly holiday story)is out in December.

The Virgin Manny is out on January 1st 2017.

And in the queue to write:

Geezers in Love-- am aiming for February 2017.

Bobby Green-- am aiming for March 2017.

The Green's Hill Werewolves Vol 1-- April 2017.

Quickening Volume 1-- May 2017.

Manny Get Your Guy--am aiming for a July release, 2017.

Quickening Volume 2--July, 2017

Red Fish, Dead Fish-- Fish Out of Water 2--August, 2017.

And even though I've got a few more things in that line, I'm going to quit there, because phew! That's a year out!

Don't forget to enjoy the freebies, kay?


Tuesday, May 17, 2016

And today I...

A real thing that happened in my house today:

Me: Uh, Mate? Have you seen my keys?

Mate (from work): No... but I did lock the car last night when I got home.

Me: Fuuuuuuuck...

Mate: I've got a really important meeting at nine. I'll come get Squish for school afterwards.

Me: Squish, bad news-- dad can't get here to get me my keys and get you to school until around eleven o'clock.

Squish: YAY! I GET TO MISS MATH!

Me: Good. I've done you a solid. You make sure to remember this when you lock YOUR keys in the car.

Squish: Deal-- I'm gonna watch  Scooby Doo!

Another real thing that happened in my house today:

--I sent Chicken pictures of ponchos to help me decide what to make for a friend's kid.

Chicken: Sweet! I like that last one. But in purple. And white and gray and black.

Me: Uh, okay.

Chicken: Can I have it as a cardigan? That would be great! I want it as a cardigan. Like simple.

Me: Uh, okay.

Chicken: Is that bad?

Me: No. In fact I'm thrilled. I'm making it in my head already. In sock yarn. In a thousand colors. 

Chicken: Ooh... sock yarn. I can pick some out when I visit.

Me: *hearts* *stars* *dreamy schmoopy happiness*  But I have to make my friend's first.

Chicken: No problem. 

Me: *hearts* *stars* *dreamy schmoopy happiness*

And another thing that happened today:

I went out to lunch with J. Scott Coatsworth (*waves*) and I went to the yarn store and I got a nap.  

And I edited Summer Lessons, cause I finished a book last night.  And tonight? I'm going to bed with my husband.

That's real :-)

Monday, May 16, 2016

How Exciting!

I'm sort of writing
It's really exciting!
My characters aren't fighting
No love requiting
No hearts I'm smiting,
I'm definitely writing!

Oh, no no no no no no...  Whatever that was, I'm over it. Okay, so--

I"m telling a story
It's not even gory
There's sex and glory
I swear you'll want mor-y
There's no need to worry--
It's a story!

Sorry! So sorry... that weird rhyming thing. What I"m trying to say is--

I'm close to the end now
Don't have a big cow
I swear it's a great wow
Sweat's dripping off my brow
Are we done with the doggerel now?

OH MY GOD!

Super quick, before it happens again--

I'M ALMOST AT THE END OF MY BOOK AND BLOGGING IS NOT WORKING FOR ME RIGHT NOW.

Sorry about the poetry.

It's all rubbish.

I'll talk to you tomorrow, I swear.

P.S.  If anyone has any good, free poncho patterns, post them FB or Twitter for me, kay?

I'm going back to prose and Mason and Terry and what should be their HEA...

oh crap. That rhymed. I'M RUNNING THE HELL AWAY!!!!

(I'll be done tomorrow, if not today. Oy vey.)

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Backlist BaDumpBump: La Quette

So we're in for a real treat for today's Backlist BaDumpBump!

La Quette, fearless writer of erotic romance and romantic suspense, is here today to talk about the first book in her series, the Queens of Kings: The Heart of the Matter.

Now I have this book lined up on my kindle (you all know about my little het habit ;-) and I'm so looking forward to it.  La Quette is kind, bold, and pretty awesome as an online presence, and I think she classes up my blog in a big way. (HTML, people-- she sent me this ENTIRE POST in HTML. I'm boggled. I also--for the first time in my life-- want to take a computer class, because *sniffle* it looks SO GOOD!) 

So everybody enjoy La Quette's backlist bump-- I hope it gives you all a whole new flavor of candy to enjoy :-)




Heart of the Matter: 
Queens of Kings: Book 1
© 2014 All Rights Reserved
by
LaQuette

Genre: M/F Erotic Romance/Romantic Suspense 

Blurb:

Heart “Mac” MacKenzie is a tough police lieutenant in the rough streets of Brooklyn, New York. She’s a strong leader who doesn’t mind getting in the trenches with the men and women she leads at the seventy-fourth precinct. Her house, her people, and her family—both blue and blood—are the only things that matter. She would live and die for the blue wall that shields her from a traumatic past. 

When her captain assigns her a high-profile kidnapping case that she doesn’t want, and insists she allows the missing girl’s irritatingly sexy uncle to tag along during the investigation, her blood boils. Mac has no choice but to do what she always does when things get out of control, lay down the law—her law. 

Kenneth Searlington is a rich playboy from the Upper East Side of Manhattan. With stunning looks and an unlimited source of wealth, he’s used to being the center of everyone’s attention, especially the women that he comes in contact with. His life is fun and carefree until his niece, Merridith is kidnapped, and he’s forced to seek out the help of his godfather an NYPD police captain, David Porter. 

Afraid and frustrated, Kenneth defers to his uncle’s expertise and his promise that he’s putting his best cop on the case, Lieutenant MacKenzie. When Kenneth discovers “Mac” is actually a sexy as sin lady cop with a fiery temper to match, he decides mixing a little business with pleasure might be just the thing he needs to distract him from long-standing family issues that are trying to crawl their way back into the forefront of his life. 

Each used to having their own way, can these two work together long enough to bring an innocent child home? Or will they settle their differences and unyielding attraction in a more carnal way and get right down to the heart of the matter? 


Buy Links:
Excerpt:

“Baby, I…” She put up her hand and stopped his words. She turned toward the stereo, turned it on, and fiddled with the dials until he heard Maxwell’s “Bad Habit” pouring from the speakers.

It was late and she had the sound turned up on damn. Fortunately for their neighbors, the basement was soundproofed. When the house was built, the original owner had wanted a place in the house where he could make as much noise as he wanted without disturbing the neighbors. By the looks of it, Heart planned to benefit from that fact. He wasn’t quite sure if he was going to benefit from it or not yet.

“What’s with the music being so loud?” he yelled over the driving base.

“I want to make sure that the neighbors don’t hear you scream,” she said, face straight, muscles tightening in her arms as she squeezed her hands into tight fists.

“Shit,” was all he could say. He knew he was in trouble now.

She rushed him…that was the only way to explain how she was standing across from him one moment, and sitting on top of him the next. In a matter of seconds he was on the floor; face up, with her sitting on top of him.

“Heart, this is not funny. Get up so we can talk.”

She didn’t move, didn’t even make a sound. She just looked at him, through him with sharp brown eyes cutting into his soul. His hands had somehow ended up near his head when he fell. He went to pull them down and felt resistance. He tried to move them again and heard a metal clinking sound above his head. He moved his head around until he could see the shiny glint of handcuffs. She’d cuffed him to the weight machine they’d landed in front of when she’d taken him to the floor. This was the very same weight machine that was bolted to the floor and immovable. 

“Heart, this isn’t funny. What are you doing?  Why did you cuff me?”

Her face was still tight with anger, her body stiff and poised for attack.

“Kenneth, do you know that I hate watching you get dressed. I hate it because I hate that anything else in this world gets to touch your beautiful alabaster skin as closely as I do. I want to be the only thing draped over you so intimately. Not the fine garments you wear, and certainly not that bitch, Faith.”

He watched her pull something from her back pocket. At first it looked like a heavy handle, but with a flick of her wrist, it became a knife.

“Heart?”

She ran the dull side of the knife across his lips and said, “Ssssh.”

He swallowed carefully as he watched her remove the knife from his lips and slice the sharp side down the length of his shirt, causing the two sides to peel away from his body like water.

She continued the slide of the blade through his pants until he was lying beneath her naked and at her mercy.

“I’m an only child, Kenneth. I never really learned how to share. I’ll be damned if I’m going to share you. So hear me now. If you want that bitch, be with that bitch, then leave me the fuck alone. But if here is where you want to be, keep that bitch, and any other out of your face. I. Don’t. Play. That. Shit.”

He nodded his head quickly. He knew he hadn’t perpetrated that kiss with Faith, but him lying naked beneath her while she had a sharp blade dancing between her fingers didn’t seem the most appropriate time to point out whose fault this entire fallout was.
 
She brought down the hand holding the knife with a hard and fast stabbing motion. He flinched, anticipating pain, but realized soon that there was no pain. She hadn’t stabbed him. He turned his head slightly to the side and saw the shiny blade next to him, sticking out of the floor.

Heart grabbed him by his chin and allowed one word to slip through her tightly ground jaw, “Mine!”

She slammed her mouth down on his and kissed him hard, sharp teeth biting into his flesh. His skin rent and he tasted the bitter metallic tang of blood. He should have been pissed, he really should have felt afraid, after all, this woman had rendered him helpless and brandished a weapon in front of him. He was shaking, his heart was pounding, and his breath was coming out in rapid tufts of air from his heaving chest. But surprisingly, there was no fear, only…interest.

His dick jumped beneath her. He was handcuffed with a knife sticking out of the floor next to his head and he was so turned on his dick could cut granite.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

He didn’t have time to come up with an answer to his own question. He watched as Heart stood to remove her pants and her panties. She resumed her spot perched atop his crotch and swiveled her hips in a looping motion until she found her comfortable spot. His cock pulsed and he could feel a small pearl of pre-cum bubbling up on his tip.

He was either going to die tonight, or have the best fucking orgasm of his life. Either way, he didn’t care, as long as she kept grinding against him like this, she could pretty much do anything she wanted, and he would be good with that.

Heart placed strong fingers around his cock, leaned forward and within a breath he was inside the sweltering heat of her pussy. In one quick motion he was fully seated inside her, her fire surrounding him, sucking all the air from his lungs by way of his dick.

I wonder if people really do die from good sex?  If they do, I’m certain my ass is gone tonight.

Heart of the Matter: 

Queens of Kings: Book 1 

Book Trailer

Also Available on Amazon: Queens of Kings: Books 1-4


Author Bio

2015 Swirl Awards Bronze winner in Romantic Suspense, 2015 Georgia Romance Writers Maggie Award Finalist in Erotic Romance, bestselling erotic romance author, LaQuette, is a native of Brooklyn, New York. She spends her time catering to her three distinct personalities: Wife, Mother, and Educator.

Writing--her escape from everyday madness--has always been a friend and comforter. She loves writing and devouring romance novels. Although she possesses a graduate degree in English Lit, she'd forego Shakespeare any day to read something hot, lusty, and romantic.

She loves hearing from readers and discussing the crazy characters that are running around in her head causing so much trouble. Contact her on FacebookTwitter, her website, NovelsbyLaQuette.comAmazon, her Facebook group, LaQuette's Lounge, and via email at NovelsbyLaQuette@gmail.com. 


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Scorched Haven: Part 6, Little Goddess Ficlet -- The Shift

It's been a while--and t's necessarily short while I edit and write other things,
but I think we needed this:

***

Colton's healing wasn't comfortable. His breathing may have evened out--he even spoke--but his body kept twitching, like a puppy with fleas.

"Hurts," he grumbled, and then sat up.  "And starving."

"Yeah," Zeb replied, looking around.  "We need food. Green said there's a gas station nearby but--"

"Starving!" Colton cried, puzzled and apparently in pain. Well, he'd been losing blood, and he'd just had to reknit tissue and bone, and the change left everybody hungry.

"Okay!" Zeb said, asserting some authority over the panic. "Here's what we're gonna do. We're on a back farm road--"  He closed his eyes.  "--I smell plenty of game. There's jackrabbits all over the fucking place. Gophers, voles, feral cats--"

"Cats?"

"Cats are apex predators, buddy, and don't you forget it. If it's got a collar and smells like people, feel free to let it wander. If it's got scars all over and thug-walks to intimidate you? Eat it. It's dinner. But you can't go wild. Just enough to tide you over, okay? You need people food too."

"Woof," Colton muttered, fidgeting. "Seriously? People food?"

"Yes!"  Zeb felt a surge of panic. All of this, and some farmer with an Uzi could take him out. "Look," he growled, pushing forward until his was nose to nose with his new recruit. "We're going out hunting, and you're eating and drinking until you can think straight. And then we're coming back to the car, you hear me? I did not get you out of that shitty town and then convert you to have you go running amok killing cows. I'm getting you to safety if I have to drag you there by the scruff of the neck!"

"Yes sir," Colton said, and to Zeb's surprise, he didn't sound sarcastic in the least. "How do we do this? I would like to be a wolf now so I can eat."  HIs voice cracked tearfully on the last word, and Zeb decided not to try his patience.

"Okay, clothes off."

Colton stared.

"Otherwise you shred them or lose them in the dust. Believe me, son, this is not the time to get modest. YOu're about to see more people naked than you've ever wanted to in your life."

And to prove it, Zeb walked over to the passengers side of the car and started to unbutton his shirt.

When he'd first moved to Green's, this part had freaked him out. Naked people in the living room, playing cards, naked people in the kitchen, cooking food. Naked people in the garden, fucking like lemmings-- you named the place, and someone was going to be missing their trousers.

But he was a werewolf, and that was pretty fucking cool.  Eventually being amazed over being something that cool had trumped being freaked out because people were naked. Colton would get used to it eventually.

He folded his clothes neatly and kicked out of his shoes, and turned around to see Colton looking woefully at his blood-soaked shirt and jeans.

"Not sure I"ll want to wear these again," he muttered.

"You got anything else in the trunk?"

Zeb tried not to stare. Yeah, sure. Naked people naked people blah blah blah blah-- this kid was built. And obviously over eighteen.

Wide shoulders, olive skin, dark nipples, muscular pecs.  Whether he'd been in sports during high school or threw hay bales around now, it didn't matter. He put Zeb's rangy, stringy muscles to shame.  Even the sobering view of his blood, drying to his skin around the now-closed wound, couldn't take away from the magnificence of that amazing body.

And hey. Wolves didn't mind licking dried bloo

"I do," Colton said, smiling shyly, pulling Zeb to the real concerns. "Same stuff I had for you in the backseat, actually, but not as clean. It'll be enough to not attract attention I think."

"Good- sometimes these little service stations have shorts and tank tops and stuff. We'll buy some of that if we have to, as long as, uh..."  Zeb's lower body was starting to tingle.

"Yeah," Colton agreed. Well, Zeb was probably not his first choice in rescuer. Besides being stringy, he had a narrow face and ordinary hazel eyes under dark brows. Green may say constantly that all his children were beautiful, but Zeb was pretty sure he was the exception. "Uh," Colton fidgeted, "where should we put the keys while we're gone?"

Zeb reached into the car and pulled them out, swinging the lanyard back and forth.  "Here," he said. "You take the keys, I'll take my phone. We've got to be back in an hour, because we don't know when our friend the bad cop is going to track us down, okay?"

Colton nodded and slipped the lanyard over his head while Zeb did the same.

"So... what now."

Zeb smiled.  This was actually the fun part. "Okay. Close your eyes, and smell. Tell me what you smell."

"Car exhaust," Colton said promptly, which was good, because the cars were at least six miles away.  "Dust. Uh... mown grass. Hay."   He paused and breathed, calmed, as Zeb was, by the natural smells under the car exhaust. "Trees. Fruit trees--sweet wood."  Breath. "Oooh... a rabbit!"  Zeb felt his body stiffen as he became self-aware. "Wait-- how'd I k now that?"

"Don't worry how," Zeb said. "Look, kid--usually you'd have a month before you had to do this. Or a week--whatever until the full moon. But we've got an hour to get you fed and to get some of your adrenaline bled out, so just... close your eyes and smell the smells. And the next time you smell rabbit, think about dinner."

"Fine, fine..."

They both closed their eyes again.  "Okay," Colton murmured. "Dinner. Rabbits. Jackrabbits. Muscles. Mean.  Hot. Hot, hot blood... "

Zeb opened his eyes when he felt the change wash over him, distorting his bones, pulling at his muscles and skin.  Colton's eyes were still closed, but he was no longer human, hair sprouting form every pore, muscles and bones bending, twisting organically, changing his shape as fluidly as sand going from one bucket to another.

When Colton spoke again, it was a growl.

Zeb met his eyes, and saw wolf's eyes, tranquil and accepting, staring back.  Zeb lifted his muzzle and smelled. Yes. There they were. Rabbits--a whole group of them. Wild rabbits--right through that forest and down that ravine.

Zeb could smell the fresh water.

He gave a jerk of his muzzle in Colton's direction.  C'mon, kid, let's hunt. 

He had a rookie to feed.

Friday, May 13, 2016

This Time, I Had My Camera...

*  I spent part of the day in the dentist office, because that whole "Hey, this is a big part of my filling" moment last night was NOT good. Neither was getting the filling. Neither, I suspect, are the tiny pebbles of amalgam I've been spitting out all day. *sigh* Ouch.

But the dentist office sits across the street from my old grammar school. You read that right-- K-8 grammar school. When I graduated from 8th grade, we joined the other two grammar schools in the district and had a graduation on the football field. Girls in their first formals, boys in their first suits--it was a throwback, you see, to the farming days when that might be a kid's last year in school.

Bullies sucked, the gay kids all joined band and drama for safety, and anyone different, even a little bit, was not treated kindly. But we closed down the town for the homecoming parade, and who does that anymore?

So, yeah. Memories are a mixed bag of fish when you grew up in a small town.  But the view from the dentist office--same dentist who pulled my wisdom teeth when I was 17, btw--sure is pretty.

*  Got home and we went almost immediately to  Squish's choir performance. This picture is from before they actually started singing. I call it "Dance of the Blue Squirrels" for obvious reasons--but as soon as the performance started, they were all well behaved ladies and gentleman.

Yes, it was a parental duty to attend--but it was also a treat.

*  We went to dinner afterwards (Mate and I were starving) and as we sat and ate, I looked out and saw this guy. He was drinking a Starbucks refresher, making a balloon horse-- the kind you put around your waist and ride--and he had few teeth.  And no reason to be there. I mean none. My kids were the only ones in the store. Nobody was watching him. He looked up and smiled when I took the picture and said "Yes, the little girl is right, it's a horse," and carried on. (I was grateful to be reassured--my friend said it looked like anal beads when I texted her the picture, and, well, the horse is better.)

So, there you go. Finally, I have a picture to prove it happened. Next time that Hell's Angel cruises through, I'll try to get a picture of him too.

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

Juggling Dogs

*  I was walking the dogs today when I saw a bona fide Hell's Angel--wearing the colors, driving a chopper, a German style WWII helmet on his head--roar through our neighborhood. He was shaved bald with a gray beard long enough to blow backwards over his shoulder.

About half a block behind him was a doughy, middle-aged white guy, riding one of those uber big, uber decked out motorcycles with fiberglass trunk and side compartments so it's like a rolling house on two wheels, all done in sparkly blue. He was riding without a helmet.

The dogs went apeshit, of course, or I would have taken a picture, because seriously. That is something you DON'T see every day.

*  Flossing my teeth today, and out popped a rather large nugget of silver filling.

This cannot be good.


*  Took the kids to dance and realized if it hadn't been too hot to come in, I would  have missed a big furry deal happening on Sunday, when the kids get measured for their outfits. The instructor looked at me reprovingly (I have to say, I don't impress her much as a whole. Well, join the club) and I shrugged. "Chronic sleep deprivation and ADHD, JoAnna. Most people mistake it for being stupid." Which, really, was no more than the truth.

*  I am on a roll, book wise. I know it's WAY LATE, but Mason's book is looking to finish soon, and then I can start on Geezers. Yayayayayay!!! Except Mason's book is breaking my heart, and I didn't expect that. Damn characters. I had to make it real.

* To the writing cave--HO!!!

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Memories and Dental Floss

Quick bite tonight-- DEADLINES! They're screaming my name.

Anyway--

Squish and ZoomBoy went in to their dental checkups today.  They have had the same dentists (a family-- mother, father, and their daughter, who is a little younger than I am) since they were small. We found these dentists when Big T was five, because he had nursing caries.

Yes, I know--put on your judgey faces.  He was five, still drinking from a bottle at night, and he weighed a good 60-70 pounds. He was a pre-schooler as tall as your average fourth-grader, and that was the year his IEP read, "By the end of the year, we hope he only has one fall-down screaming tantrum per day."  Of course, T BEING T exceeded all hopes in that way, and he only had one fall-down screaming tantrum per every two weeks by the end of that year, and they were almost completely extinct by Kindergarten, but the beginning of pre-school was rough. He was in a program the combined with HeadStart (a low income program that we qualified for at the time--Mate was still in school) and when my part-time teaching job turned to full time so we could get insurance and  finally get him in to see a dentist...

Well, we had no idea where to begin.

So we looked up children's dentists on our health program-- and the first place was a complete bust.

"So," I said, trying not to sugar-coat things. "He's got special needs, and he's ginormous. He weighs 65 lbs, and he's as big as a fourth grader--"

"Not a problem."

"And he throws giant screaming fits. He's communicatively handicapped--you can't tell him to just stop. It doesn't work."

"We can handle it."

"He doesn't calm down at all--transitions are a nightmare. And he might need to be strapped down into a cradle board."

"No worries."

"Please tell me you believe in drugging minors."

"The dentists here are very good."

So we arrived, and waited an hour while I filled out paperwork. Then the dentist shows up to take T by the hand.

She is 5'1 and seven months pregnant.

I stare at her for a moment. "Did your receptionist tell you what our special needs are?" I ask delicately. "This could be a very physical thing."

"Well, let's just get him in the seat first."

"Okay, Big T, maybe--"

Imagine a fourth grader having a giant screaming flailing fit on the dentist chair.

While his mother and a tiny pregnant woman try to restrain him.

This was worse.

I finally pull him away, screaming. "What you need is a dentist for special needs children," she panted.

"I told your receptionist EVERYTHING!" I snapped. "That's what I thought you were!"

"You need someone licensed to give narcotics to children."

"THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU WERE!"

"Well the only people who do that are in Roseville! Let the receptionist give you their number!"

I wasn't sure I could trust the receptionist to take a dump at this point, but she gave me the number for the dentists we  have now.

They gave him a popsicle that put him out like a light, strapped him to a board, and filled in his teeth. And told me what a good boy he was, because he woke up and hardly cried at all.

So, yes. I love our dentist.

They were even sweet to me when Big T's tooth wouldn't fall out. They hate to charge us extra for that--most of the time, kids' teeth fall out on their own, but MY kids... well, T was in 6th grade (and the size of a high school student at this point) and he had one...last... tooth.

His adult tooth was already grown in, and this one just stuck out from his gum line like an enamel wart.

It was disgusting and distracting as hell.

I remember talking to his 4-6th grade teacher (Mr. Vianelle, bless his soul-- awesome guy!) He had just finished telling me that Big T was a wonderful student and an amazing young man, and T ran in, said something, and smiled.  He ran out, and I looked at Mr. V and said, "Uh, you ever want to sit on his chest and yank that thing out?"

"Every damned day," said Mr. V--with intense feeling, I might add.

I really adored that teacher. Missed the hell out of him when T moved on.

And I'll miss this family dentist business when my kids move on from there too-- they're truly awesome. They believe in magic popsicles and toy surprises and in strapping a kid down when he's not gonna do it on his own.

And on being nice and enjoying watching your kids grow up.

Good dentists--they're a blessing.


Too bad for you...

So, our aqua instructor this Monday did Tobattas. (I think that's how it's spelled-- I'm pretty sure it's a neologism for "too badda for you.")  I approve of the principle-- even when I'm sucking wind so bad I'm breathing through my eyeballs--because they make you feel like you're really accomplishing something, and the results in terms of cardio improvement are measurable.

This instructor uses a tape--she gives us the moves during the ten second rest period, and then lets the tape tell us, "3-2-1 WORK!" which, again, in principle, is fine.  And for the first two out of four cycles it was.

And then, I had some other shit I absolutely HAD TO THINK ABOUT. Were Mason and Terry progressing? Is Fish Out of Water edited enough to let go of? Do the kids have a dentist appointment tomorrow?  And... oh, crap, is that the end of the cycle? And we're starting another-- Did I close the sliding glass door? Is it hot enough for the A/C to kick in? Is it going to rain again this year?

And so on.

I muddled through, catching maybe four of the eight WORK! segments of the cycle, but at the end, when the instructor said, "So, did that do it for you guys? Do you feel like you worked?"

"It was great before my ADHD kicked in, and then I just sort of dog paddled."

Everyone sort of laughed, but I have to say, I tend to forget that I deal with a quirky brain until it quirks me right out of the now and I spend my time wandering in the then.  I need a contingency plans for workouts, I think--you don't really get the bennies of the workout if you forget you're working midway through.

*  *  *  *

And last night, Mate and I were settling down for an uneasy spring nap when we heard something massive hit the door to the bedroom.

We sat up in bed (okay, I sat up in bed) and we both heard an imperious, "MEOW!"

"Oh my God," I said, "was that Steve?"

"I don't care," Mate said, rolling over to go back to sleep.

"Should I let her in?"

"Sure."

"She'll just do that all night."

"I know she will."

So I got up and opened the door.

And my cat and I bitched at each other five minutes.

"Well, moron, come in!"

"Why'd you close the door?"

"So we could sleep."

"I can sleep with the door open."

"We can't--the kids keep the light on."

"Fuck the light. Open the door."

"Fuck the door--get in the bedroom!"

"I don't wanna!"

"Look, you asshole cat, you got me out of bed to let you in, now get your furry butt in the room."

"Make me."

So I dragged her in and closed the door and crawled into bed.

And she jumped on the bed and proceeded to head-butt Mate until he pet her and then pushed her into the clean clothes because who died and made HER Sheba Queen of Cats?

And this morning she woke me up with more head-butts.

I am not sure where this cat got her attitude, but the dogs fear her. *looks around furtively* I'm starting to be a bit leery myself.