Happy Thanksgiving, Happy Nano

So it's the first time in six days I have the house to myself, and I feel compelled to talk about NANOWRIMO. I finished--but it was a hard finish. An "I counted my blog tour posts and the fiction from my personal blog" finish--but at the same time, I'm still really proud of it.

We started out this month on a trip to Disneyland that we planned a year ago--there were days that week I just couldn't write. Not even a little. And to make matters worse--for me anyway--part of my NANO was FINISHING A BOOK. I know I'm not the only writer who cleans up their administrative work in that lull between finishing one book and starting another.

And then there were the three edits.

And the blog tour--may I mention that the only way I could do the blog tour and NANO was to make that do double duty?

Because, yes, this last week, when normally I would have been doubling down on my writing, I was cleaning the damned house and getting ready for Thanksgiving dinner--and then nursing my foot which pretty much gave a big "OH fuck THIS!" at around two p.m. Thursday, leaving Mate to do a lot of the heavy lifting. (He forgave me because I'd been up until 3 a.m. the night before and had gotten up at 8 that morning, just to time the food right. Too much time in the cold without shoes will fuck up your fasciitis and that is the truth.)

So it was a tough NANO, but I made my goal in new writing at least 50K, and I did finish the book I was working on when I started--and I made a healthy start on a new one as well.

It left me wondering why that little badge was so important--why it was absolutely necessary to EARN that damn sweatshirt that I already preordered (because if you wait until you actually finish the damned event, all the specialty sizes are gone.) I mean, I write 50K in a normal month--it's not like I'm a big fraud who screams NANOWRIMO and then pretends to write when I'm watching porn. Why is it so important for me to have won that badge fair and square one more year?

And maybe it comes down to this.

When people ask me what my education is, I say, "I have the equivalent of a Master's degree." And while it's true that I didn't finish the program, the following is also true:

When I was awarded my BA in English, I had--and this is a true thing, although they might have changed the rules now--too many units to get a BA. I was short 3 credits in a humanities class, and if I'd taken that class, I would have just needed to press on through to get a MA without a BA, I shit you not my college evaluator said this with a straight face. They had to take a graduate course I'd taken in English (nobody was sure how I was even let into this course but I got a B+) and give me credit for a humanities course, which just goes to show you that taking a class in sci-fi and fantasy can never steer you wrong

I've taken 18 units in Shakespeare. Well, three of those units was Renaissance Lit, but yes, there was a lot of fucking Shakespeare.

By the time I was done with my teaching credential, I had a BA + 53 units. A MA is usually only a BA + 30.

By the time I dropped out of the MA program, I had a BA + 73 units. (Just 2 units short of a raise, because ain't that always the fuckin' way?)

The final project for my MA would have been to finish a full length work. I've done that somewhere around 80 times. 90 maybe? God, between big books that have been broken up and novellas that have been combined, it's almost impossible to count. But yes, I have completed the final MA requirement many times over.

All of this, and yet, I have no MA degree.

Explaining this in detail during regular conversation, A. Makes me sound pompous as hell, B. Also makes me bitter, and C. Also makes me boring.

So, I say "I have the equivalent of..."

Because it's shorter, and as far as I'm concerned, it's true.

But I can't put MA on a book jacket or a bio. When Crafting Category Romance: Fiction Haiku comes out next year, it's going to look like I'm some rando who declared myself an expert on something that better minds really do have a handle on.

So as far as writing kudos for myself, NANOWRIMO must absolutely, positively, be real. When I say I "won NANO" I absolutely have to write 50K + in the allotted time.

Because so much about my pedigree is... less than. I jumped the wrong hoops at the wrong times and won the consolation prize of degrees. I taught for 18 years... and I didn't retire, the administration dragged me out by the hair and left me on the side of the road. I am in so many ways an "also ran" that I refuse to declare a win unless it's a real goddamned win.

So this NANO was a real goddamned win. It probably would have been a real goddamned win if I'd only just finished the stupid book and then moved on to my admin tasks and blog tour without counting words, but I was going to count the goddamned words. It's a little like being a writer in the first place. I have to do something--something real, something tangible, something that has the power to either generate income or enhance the income I'm generating, every fucking day, or I might as well clean the house and sew all my kids' clothes by hand and join the PTA. (I have never, ever, on either side of the fence, been inclined to join the PTA. One meeting is enough. *shudder*)

Also, I managed to win NANO and my kids still loved me enough to come to Thanksgiving and watch movies and eat fattening food. I even collected an extra, and I made enough German cabbage that T copped a ride from his sister today to come finish it off. (He tried to make some for his friends-giving, but that had a tragic end. I had to hug him just from his disappointment.)

So I hope you all had a Happy Thanksgiving--and a Happy Nano. It's weird the things we celebrate, and the bars we set for ourselves. It's just nice sometimes to be able to declare a win.

Soccer Season

Well, for us, it goes from August to July, so I'm not going to say it's over.

But this weekend was the last tournament of the regular season--and on the one hand, Squish is sorry to see it go, but on the other, we did notice that we left at the beginning of November and our part of the country noticed fall had arrived.

It seems to show itself in cold feet.

So we spent a couple of glorious--albeit cold--days on the soccer field, watching Squish look yearningly at her peers playing, because in spite of the fact that they didn't have a chance of winning any of their games almost from the get go, her coach didn't put her in.

Which was a shame. Because when he played her as defender, she didn't let anything through. Granted, she was only there for five minutes, but, well, she would have enjoyed the time seeing if she could keep up a streak.

It's frustrating, watching her improve, watching her be ignored. On the one hand I suppose I should be grateful-- Mate stepped down from coach this year so the new coach WOULDN'T split the teams into the "good one" and the "not so good one". And I think the new coach was surprised when the same girls who couldn't get their shit together on a plate for Mate were only a little better at it for new guy.

Well, new guy is young--everybody thinks they can do it better than the old guy at the beginning.

Mate was very classy--he'd talk about all the good things new guy was doing, and how they were hard to get to work--he's not big on trash talk, and I love him for it.

But still--the one thing Mate was usually pretty good at was putting every kid in for equal playing time.  After Chicken was cut from her team (a team she later played with for another five years after that asshole quit coaching) he didn't ever want another kid to feel left out.

Watching Squish feel left out is rough.

Which is why I didn't whine (too much) when Mate said he might be club president again next year. Our club is consolidating with three or four other clubs--the reason he was club president in the first year was to keep bad shit from happening to any of our kids as players.

It's a good reason. He's good at that job.

Maybe next year, Squish will get some more playing time.

Because I guess that's the way things work in a civilized society. At least I'd like to think so.

The Rulz

Requirements Authors Have for Their Readers

1. Buy any book you want from any place that is convenient or affordable to you.

2. Love any book that moves you, as passionately as you are able.

3. Don't throw your Kindle if you hate a book--they break. (Paperbacks are fine as long as you warn family members to duck.)

The End

When your grocery store opens a portal to hell...

ZoomBoy and I enter the 9th Circle of hell--aka the grocery store at shift change. We are buying two boxes of chocolate chip cookies to give to his dance class and are running the clock, so seeing the vast assortment of humanity in front of us at the check stand is disconcerting, and frankly, we hate them all. We hate the women who is, inexplicably, buying ten frozen pheasants--I guess they were on sale? We are hating the little Honey Boo Boy, who won't stop whistling, and we are especially hating his father, who is buying the six pack, and who will not shut this kid up. We are very much hating the kid who is complaining viciously to his grandfather about "all the gorum store people who won't stop messin' round."

I swear to God, it's like our California Safeway opened a back hell-portal to Maycomb County, GA, circa 1930.

And just as we were drawing up to the register, another character from To Kill a Mockingbird spoke up.

"Oh my God-- HE'S the sexiest man on earth? Oh he is NOT the sexiest man on earth."

She is talking, of course, about John Legend--and the disgust in her voice was... unnerving.

"That's because you've never seen him play Jesus Christ," I said, pretty sure that would shut her up.

It did shut her up, for a moment. She probably considers herself a Christian. "Well, I don't think he's sexy," she sniffed. "I like my men to be..." Zoomboy and I met eyes. "...tall," she finished.

Ladies and gentlemen, I do not think she had a problem with his height.

And then, as ZoomBoy and I smirked, we heard a small, indignant voice from the line at the register next to us.

"He's 5'9"!"

We cracked up, and the harried clerk rang up our cookies, and the woman sputtered and tried to explain that five-nine was NOT that tall.

And I hoped our local Safeway could go back to modern day Cali just as soon as humanly possible.

Things That Are Broken

* My bathroom--don't ask about the floor, don't ask about the plumbing, don't ask about the sink. And don't ask how badly I wanted to hide when the heat and air guy needed to use it this morning.

* My house--Chicken brought her charge here so she could "borrow my dogs" and play with them in the park. He commented on the mess, commented on the smell of dog, and commented on how icky everything was, before he took my dog and left. Yes, he was seven, but I think he broke my indifference to other people's opinion.

*  My day--To start with, the heating and air guy got here at 7:45, when I was STILL ASLEEP. And then proceeded to wreak havoc on my entire morning. And then Chicken was coming and going with this kid who didn't like my house, and stealing my dogs and needing laundry and basically my schedule was shot.

*  My dog--Chicken took the dogs out to the center of the park. Usually, I take them in a big loop--we walk this most every day. She wanted the dogs to play so she took them off their leashes. Geoffie rolled around happily, did the dog thing, and looked at them with limpid eyes-- what's next?   Johnnie trotted to the walkway and started to do the loop.

You heard me. My dog FORGOT HOW TO DOG.

He doesn't know how to do anything in the park besides WALK THE LOOP.

You all, I broke my dog.

*hangs head* My job here is done--I'm going to bed.

A typically boring evening...

So, tonight, the following conversations happened:

1. We are watching Bob's Burgers. For those of you who haven't seen this show, my kids pretty much agree that Bob and Linda are me and Mate, right down to how Bob deals with his chronically weird children. (No. No. No, don't do that. That's... pretty awful actually. Okay. Whatever. I love you.)

While we are watching tonight, the following conversation happens between Bob and Linda, while they are watching Darjeeling Deaths, which, if you haven't seen them, is a sendup of Midsomer Mysteries, and trying to get out of their nightmare descent into middle age.

Bob: Do you think that guy did it? That guy definitely did it.

Linda: Wait! Do you think we should go out?

Bob: Why, do you have to pee?

Linda: Well, yeah, actually, but I mean go out tonight to that party we were invited to.

Bob: To a party that starts at ten o'clock where I'm supposed to try to be awake?

Linda: Yeah, Bobby-- let's talk about it after I pee.

This is where Mate and I can't breathe, we are laughing so hard. He looks at me to see if I'm laughing as much as he is, and I say, "Help! I've been seen and shot!" And we go off on another round again.

All things considered, I sort of wish I'd met my doppelgänger on Midsomer Mysteries. 

2.  I've been working on a top-down sweater for Chicken's friend, and it is getting to the part where I have to decide where to "pit"--separate the armpit from the yoke and start the body.

"Squish, it is time in this sweater's life."

"No... mom, do I have to?"

"We need to see how big it is now. The  process has begun. There is no going back."  I put the yoke over her shoulders and try to estimate where I'll need to start the armpit. Squish rolls her eyes.

"Are you only using me because my brother smells?"

"No. I"m using you because you have boobs and he doesn't."

"Fine. You need about three more inches before you pit."

"You're right! Thanks! I'll keep going."

"Whatever."

3. And this final conversation between me and my cat.

"So, uh, cat--"

"IT's my hour, you can't boot me off."

"But I was doing a thing here with yarn and a hook--"

"Ask me if I care. If you keep it on your lap I'll shed."

"But there's a dog here on the side--"

"I"ll sit on it. So help me if you don't pet me right now I will sit on that thing until it ceases to breathe."

"Yeah, uh... oh wow, we're getting personal."

"Rub noses with me or you'll see my one big eye."

"Okay. Damn. You play dirty."

"Shut up. I'm going to sit here on your chest for another twenty minutes. Don't even look at the knitting."

"Yeah, fine. Scratch behind your ears?"

"It's about fucking time you offered. Mm... yeah, not too long on that. Now scratch my ass."

"Sure, my liege."

"You joke but we both know it's true. Now harder, at the base of the tail... there we go. Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...."

Wow--that fast, huh?

So today we had pizza so ZoomBoy could have a family dinner, and Big T, who didn't get to come to Dizzyland with us could wish his little brother happy birthday. My folks came, and the conversation was entertaining, and while the party was small, it was happy. And honestly, sometimes between friends and extended family, there's just not enough time to talk to everybody, so this was fine.

Chicken was suffering a flu/head cold, which sort of sucks because she may have given it to me (well, it also sucks for her!) but she was able to give me my thrill of the week.

While we were in Dizzyland, one of her besties had a baby. Now, my friend Ambrosia also had a baby--that I might get to hold sometime next week and I am VERY excited about this!--but this was different.

Chicken called me up and told me he was adorable and that he looked like a beat up old man (as most babies, male or female, do) and while she was talking... you guys.

I HEARD A BABY NOISE.

I squealed, and said, "OMG THAT WAS A BA-BEEEE!!!"

And Chicken said, "Peace out, Mom. Give it up." And then she hung up.

Tonight, as we were gathered around the pizza table, she looked at her siblings and said, "Bad news guys. Mom heard me with a baby. Big T, if you don't pick up my slack, it's going to be up to Squish."

Squish looked up and raised her eyebrows. "I'm thinking no," she said deliberately. "Not for a while."

ZB said, "Well, the odds are fifty-fifty."

Chicken snorted. "Give it up, ZB--you're already hanging with the drama kids. Nobody's going to have ovaries in your life."

Big T shrugged. "I'm still in school."

"It's fine," I said, trying to maintain my dignity. "It's all good. I'll never have grandchildren. I understand that."

They all rolled their eyes--I don't think I was fooling anyone. *sigh* But I may get to hold Ambrosia's baby next week, and that's going to have to tide me over.

Oh you guys, they grow up so fast. It's no fair. ZB is sixteen and nobody's old enough to pop out puppies.

I'm going to go hug my dogs.

Everyday Things

So, back to trying to finish this GD book. (Thanks, Karen Rose for the acronym--GDB--it should go down in history.)

It should be done by tomorrow, but I think it will be closer to Monday, and I'm really sort of loving it. God, urban fantasy--even quirky, low-key fantasy--is just so much fun.

Anyway-- it was mostly a low key day--walked the dogs, did the grocery shopping, took Chicken some soup. She came home with the crud, and, well, I haven't seen her new kitty, who is a hyperactive adorable little goblin and I love him.

Anyway-- came home and watched television and am about to write again. Woohoo!

But something fun DID happen to me today-- as I was walking I came across a distinguished, silver-haired gentleman with three smallish dogs on a leash.

"My dogs are all dog friendly," he proudly pronounced.

"Mine are idiots," I said. (This is my standard answer.)  "The cute one has super aggressive body language but she has bitten neither man nor beast in five years. The cowardly one is afraid of everybody, but he has manners."

The nice man made nice noises about what good dogs I have (yes, I think they're good dogs, but I don't like to give people unrealistic expectations for their situational comprehension) and I asked about his.

He had a Pit-Weenie, a Chi-Weenie, and a Chi-corgi. (A Chorgi? A chihuahua orgy? You be the judge.)

Yes. Yes, that was a pit bull and a dachshund mix. What did it look like? Like an animator tripped some acid and drew a dog, why do you ask?

Seriously-- big head, long body, and, of course, the best part: dog. He was a dog, and therefore better than 99% of most humans.

The Chiweenie was also a dog--but apparently the old soul of the group. The Pit-Weenie was a baby at two, and apparently still growing. (Lengthwise, I assume.) The Chorgi was finally getting used to all the young chippersnappers, but she had made her peace with her odd troop of Chis and Weenies, and that was probably for the best.

And as I walked away, I thought, "Hey-- that was like an Amy Lane family, only in dog groupings. A little of this, a little of that, the least likely people in the most everyday of lives... Cool!"

Which brings me to my job, which, well, I'm off to do!

But first, a big hearty Happy Birthday to ZoomBoy. He turns 16 tomorrow, and while we did most of our celebration at DizzyLand--and are thus broker than broke atm-- he deserves all the bday love all the time.

Quirky, hilarious, awkward, graceful, brilliant and out to the zoo almost by the minute, he's our cave troll--because he had us outnumbered from the first--and our ZoomBoy, because his brain goes zoom, and Thing 3--the oldest of the second set and the youngest of the boys.

He has the potential to be all of the magical, marvelous things, and I know this, because so often, he already is. And those other times, we can attribute to growing, and oh my stars, we have all seen him grow.

So happy birthday, my beautiful son--you are stunningly loved.

*snort*

I'm still trying to make up the loss of 2K last night to the Microsoft Word gods--and finish this WIP so I can work on a couple of edits, so just a short post tonight.

ZoomBoy had a lot of fun at Dizzyland--not gonna lie--but he started out sort of bumpy. Seems that his Math teacher had just decided to e-mail Mate regarding ZoomBoy's less than stellar grade. We got the email the night we got to Anaheim, and ZB was exhausted and stressed and "Why? Why do we have to go to Dizzyland in November?"

Well, he sort of had a point, but after the week was over, I pointed to the zero wait time on Haunted Mansion and said, "Was it worth it?" and he was like, "Oh HELL yeah!"

Anyway--irony of ironies, they had two days off school when we got back. The good news was, they both had time to make up all their homework. Or so they say. I mean, we can only hope, right?

So this morning, Mate and I were getting up around 8:30, thinking ZB would be up sneaking in some PS4 time before we woke up and Squish would be sleeping until licked awake by kittens and dressed by magical birds. (She does have sort of a Princess thing when she gets to sleep in. It's both charming and amazing. She'd sleep until the next day if she could.)  I had a dentist appointment at 10, so I was trying to get ready and yet stay out of Mate's way since he's used to having the bedroom himself.

Anyway, into this, ZoomBoy comes thumping into the bedroom. He throws the door open, ignores the fact that I'm not dressed, and blurts, "It's EIGHT-THIRTY YOU GUYS!"

We stare at him. "You don't have school today."

He is quite perplexed. "That was YESTERDAY. Veterans Day!"

"And today," Mate said, getting out his phone and pulling up the school schedule. "Teacher work day."

ZoomBoy looked at us, genuinely at a loss. "What am I supposed to do today?"

Both of us, without even looking at each other: "HOMEWORK!!!"

It was like someone let the air out of him. "Fine."

I said, "You thought you got away with not doing any yesterday, didn't you?"

"Whatever."

He slunk into the living room, to spend the rest of the day going from doing the dishes to doing his homework and really not finishing either one. Whatever.

I was at the dentist. He still had a better day than I did.

Whew-- What a week?

So, we've been planning this trip for a year--and it all started when my friend Berry Jello said, "We should go to Disneyland together! I think we could stand each other for a week!"

Well, I still adore her, but I gotta tell you, that was one rough week.

On Friday, when I bailed early because the noise and the crowd and the rides were just all too much, Chicken said, "Geez Mom, you didn't bail the last time we did this!"

Oh yes. I totally did.

I remember it very clearly.

Thanksgiving morning, Mate had a plan--they were going to run from ride to the ride and get fast passes at strategic times and basically have a non-stop Disney experience.

I slept in and met everybody for dinner at three o'clock.

They were all psyched--I had zero regrets.


Ten years ago, we only did two days at Disneyland and one at Universal Studios--I don't know if Mate knows this, but I cried quietly all the way to the hotel. Theme parks are... well, they're fun, but they're sort of the anti-me.

Well, this time was... harder. Not just the years, and not the extra twenty pounds I've added since then. (Yes, I know I'm bigger than that--but the twenty pounds are the last five years.)  It was that there were NO LINES. So, we ran from ride to ride in a never ending progression. Frankly, I'm used to waiting in line, appreciating the ride, taking a breath, figuring out where to go next--but I was with fanatics here. Berry Jello, Mate, and Chicken walked into the park with apps intact and ready (and no--my phone was not up to the app) and they ZOOMED from ride to ride.

On the one hand, they literally hit every park we went to at top speed, and that's pretty cool.

On the other hand, I was exhausted. And even if my legs and feet didn't ache, my stomach was cursing at me the entire time.

So yeah--I bailed midway through Friday. I enjoyed my stay, but damn. Everything hurt and if I had to hear the piped in music rotation at the park entrance one more time I was going to cry--and that was no fun for anybody.

My family and my friend and her family had a blast--and so did I. But I was reminded of who I have never been--and that's a theme park person. That's fine. We can really only afford to go there once every five years anyway--we're going to be paying this off for ages.

So I love the pictures here, and I loved this vacation. But I am SO glad to be home with my dogs and my quiet home and life. And the kids are so grateful for their time at Dizzyworld--it was time well spent.

That I'll appreciate even more after a little more sleep.

But I do have some good stories to tell--I'll stick to three.

The first is that we all dressed for Stranger Things on the first day--and all the kids (including Berry Jello's) wore pajama pants on the third. (We hit DisneyLand, Universal Studios, California Adventure, Downtown Disney, and DisneyLand again, Monday through Friday. Downtown Disney was our "day off" because we went food shopping and didn't do any rides. So they wore their pajamas to California Adventure.)

But the day we were dressed for Stranger Things Chicken and ZoomBoy were dressed in "Scoops Ahoy" outfits, like Steve and Robin, and Mate was dressed as Hopper, and Squish was dressed as Eleven. Anyway-- the first thing that happened when we walked into the park was Chicken and ZoomBoy getting their picture taken with Donald Duck--and that amazing salute, complete with ZoomBoy's tooshie wiggle. ADORABLE.   The second thing that happened was really hilarious.

We hit the Haunted House ride--which is decked out for Nightmare Before Christmas, and we went and got our picture taken with Jack and Sally. They looked at Mate and said, "And what's your name, sir."

"Hopper."

Jack was wearing a mask, but you could see his head tilt back. "So, we're in character. Got it." And then he asked the rest of us-- and we all gave our character names. I was wearing a Barb T-shirt--and if you know the show, you know she died in like, episode three of season one.

Anyway, I said, "And I"m Barb!" Because I look JUST LIKE THAT CHARACTER.

And Jack and Sally said, "Justice for Barb!"

It was awesome <3 p="">
The second story happened at Universal Studios. Mate and I went on Jurassic World, and the last part of the ride takes you to a peak, where a T-Rex roars at you from the side and then one jumps at you from the dark, right in front of you, as the ride drops and you hit the water at the bottom.

The ride broke. We were at the top of the peak and the T-Rex jumped out at us and roared and then faed into his little niche, and we were...stuck.

Now, we can't see in front of us--we assume that we're CLOSE to the top of the peak, but we're there long enough to get bored. The T-Rex is roaring and roaring and roaring and roaring and roaring and we're making Emergency 9-1-1 jokes and and then the ride started moving.

"Yay, we're mo--"

and the DROP.

Cold. Like, with no adrenaline warning, or happy excitement. We realized the car was moving and we were falling through the air.

AUGH!!!

Scariest ride I've ever fucking been on.

And the last story was at California Adventure--

We were at the ferris wheel-- which, I should mention, I love. Mate and Chicken LOATHE this ride. Because the one at Disneyland has two different cars--one just swivels, like a regular car, and the other has a big loop for the car to swing on--it's terrifying.

Mate was looking at the cars and doing statistics. "Well," he said in front of the ride operator. "Technically only sixteen of the cars swing."

The ride operator looks up with a devilish look in his eyes. "Are you sure only sixteen of them swing?"

It was a double entendre, and fortunately, we had time for me to come up with an appropriate response. "Well," I said, "We may not know how many of them swing, but I do know none of them go both ways."

He gave me--in Mate's words--"a proper look", and Mate and I cackled.

"Hey," the guy said, still wicked. "I've got over here a button that says 'release'. I push this and..."  His eyes danced. "You all are gonna be living your best lives!"

We cackled some more, and he said thoughtfully, "Actually, that would be sort of horrifying."

Mate and I nodded--because either meaning of the word "release" and being down below would be a bad idea--and got on the car.

Chicken said later, "You guys should have seen Mom and Dad flirting with the ferris wheel guy. It was EPIC."

I gotta admit, I took the win.

Kermit Flail November!!!

YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!

GREETINGS FROM A HOTEL NEAR DISNEYLAND!

Or, well, a timeshare resort maybe, but seriously-- we are Disneyland bound tomorrow. Today, Mate, Berry Jello and I spent valuable time at Target, buying food for NON Disneyland times, and, of course, I'm doing little work for making up for the times when we get back at midnight and fall face first into the mattress.

Anyway--It's November, and we're at Disneyland and there are a thousand things going on that I will not bore you with--mostly because they would take whole other blog posts. But we are all chilling out, recovering from the long ride yesterday and keying up for all the excitement tomorrow.

And there are some fanTASTic books to offer you this month--and they run the gamut, too! Sci-fi, suspense, and contemporary--here are some very cool picks to read as you prepare for the holiday season.

J. Scott Coatsworth, my fellow Sacramentan, has the third book in his award winning sci-fi trilogy coming out, and it looks fantastic! Lissa Kasey offers us a spooky suspense novel and Jay Hogan gives us a sizzling opposites attract contemporary!  And the third book in the Winter Ball trilogy is out December 3rd, so I hope everybody is ready for Fall Through Spring!

So there you go--everybody give it up for the Kermit Flail--YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!!

The Shoreless Sea

by J. Scott Coatsworth

As the epic trilogy hurtles toward its conclusion, the fight for the future isn’t over yet. It could lead to a new beginning, or it might spell the end for the last vestiges of humankind.

The generation ship Forever has left Earth behind, but a piece of the old civilization lives on in the Inthworld—a virtual realm that retains memories of Earth's technological wonders and vices. A being named Lilith leads the uprising, and if she succeeds in setting its inhabitants free, they could destroy Forever.

But during the generation ship's decades-long voyage, humanity has evolved. Liminals with the ability to connect with the world mind and the Inthworld provide a glimmer of hope. They'll have to face not only Lilith’s minions, but also the mistrust of their own kind and persecution from a new government as homotypicals continue to fear what they can't understand.

The invasion must be stopped, the Inthworld must be healed, and the people of Forever must let go of their past and embrace what they’re meant to become.

Buy at Amazon 

First Impressions

by Jay Hogan

Michael:

Two years ago, I made a mistake, a big one. Then I added a couple more just for good measure. I screwed up my life, but I survived. Now I have the opportunity for a fresh start. Two years in NZ. Away from the LA gossip, a chance to breathe, to rebuild my life. But I’m taking a new set of rules with me. 

I don’t do relationships.

I don’t do commitment.

I don’t do white picket fences.

And I especially don’t do arrogant, holier-than-thou, smoking hot K9 officers who walk into my ER and rock my world.

Josh:

One thing for certain, Dr. Michael Oliver is an arrogant, untrustworthy player, and I barely survived the last one of those. He might be gorgeous, but my daughter takes number one priority. I won’t risk her being hurt, again. I’m a solo dad, a K9 cop and a son to pain-in-the-ass parents.

I don’t have time for games. 

I don’t have time for taking chances.

I don’t have time for more complications in my life.

And I sure as hell don’t have time for the infuriating Dr. Michael Oliver, however damn sexy he is. 

Buy at Amazon 

Stalked by Shadows

by Lissa Kasey 

A missing girl, ritual murders, and a shadow stalking every footstep.

Alexis Caine survived an attack in the deserts of Afghanistan. An attack the government denied and discharged him for, leaving him broken and in a mental institution. What Alex saw that day in the desert continues to haunt him.

When a new job working as a bodyguard for a New Orleans ghost tour guide, Micah Richards, opens Alex’s eyes to a world of paranormal possibilities, he’s not sure he can believe his eyes. What if he’s not crazy after all? When a ritual murder in which two fellow tour guides die and a tourist vanishes, Alex wonders if he brought a curse down upon them all.

A shadow from the desert rears its nightmarish head offering Alex something he wants more than anything, but at what cost?

Buy at Amazon

Fall Through Spring

by Amy Lane

A Winter Ball Novel

As far as Clay Carpenter is concerned, his abusive relationship with food is the best thing he’s got going. When a good friend starts kicking his ass into gear, Clay is forced to reexamine everything he learned about food and love—and that’s right when he meets troubled graduate student, Dane Hayes.

Dane Hayes doesn’t do the whole monogamy thing, but the minute he meets Clay Carpenter, he’s doing the friend thing in spades. The snarky, scruffy bastard not only gets Dane's wacky sense of humor, he also accepts the things Dane can’t control—like the bipolar disorder Dane has been trying to manage for the past six years.

Dane is hoping for more than friendship, and Clay is looking at him with longing that isn't platonic. They’re both positive they’re bad at relationships, but with the help of forbidden desserts and new medication regimens, they prove outstanding at being with each other. But can they turn their friendship into the love neither of them has dared to hope for?

Buy at Amazon

A Brain on Borrowed Power

So I haven't blogged in a while because my interwebs were down.

I didn't know why they were down. All I knew was that I had two edits to finish and a deadline to make and MY INTERWEBS WERE DOWN.

Yikes, right?

Anyway, so, downed interwebs, and stressed Amy. Not so much fun, no.

And in the middle, we had the Weenie Hallows, and the shopping and the dogs to the kenneling, and, oh yes, let us not forget, the PACKING FOR THE MOUSE-EARS PLACE.

*hangs head* I have two T-shirts I promised to wear at the Mouse-Ears place and I can't find them. I put one of them in a special drawer, just to wear to the Mouse-Ears place, and it is nowhere to be found.

I am so ashamed.

And there was money--very forgotten money, and I had to get the money into the bank place so it would be remembered money, and there were problems, and I had to call the magic money people and there was paperwork and... *looks down* I am no good with magic money people--but they figured out how for me to get the magic money and now we can go to the Mouse-Ears place and do that most wondrous thing.

Eat.

Also walk all over and go on rides.

And the smol dogs had must be taken to nice puppersitters and they were very sad. They like the puppersitters, but not as much as me.

And I was very sad.

And did I mention the Weenie Hallows where the smol people who are no MOSTLY ALL THE BIG got to wear fun things?

I was so proud of all the once-smol-people and their determination to wear the fun things.

And the Mate, to wear the fun things with them.

And I could not find my T-shirt then, and not now, and there are writings and sendings and cars to be cleaned and...

And the interwebs were down.

And this afternoon, the once-smol-boy who is now MOSTLY ALL THE BIG got under my desk and said, "Mom, I am going to fix the interwebs," and you know what?

He DID. He DID fix the interwebs, and now I can make with the postings.

And tomorrow we go to the Mouse-Ears Place in a car jam-packed-full of smol people and friends and clothes and snacks until it all pops out of the car thing like a zit.

I shall bring my knitting.

And close my eyes.

And write on the way.

And try to send postings from the Mouse Ears place.

And wish for words now that there are interwebs.

Stay safe this week. It seems that chaos is not just in my brainy-head, it seems to be the world.