Rainbow Fest

 So, I know that somewhere out there, a straight person is going, "Huh. Rainbow Fest. Why do THEY need a celebration all their own?"

Well, the obvious answer is THEY need a safe space to celebrate being THEMselves in a world that is often harsh to people whom are deemed different.

But the less obvious answer was all around me today.

I went with the Sacramento Author's Group, led by our fearless leader, J. Scott Coatsworth, and met by my amazing friend Kim Fielding.
Mate came with me, as general muscle, and we ventured into the 106 degree heat of the day (Yes, I know. 106 in September is obscene) to set up a booth and sell books, and generally make people aware we're out there. (I know--it seems unfathomable, but people still aren't aware that gay romance is a thing. It surprises me too.)

We kept auspicious company.

Besides the Skivvies Club (underwear--go figure!) we were surrounded by the Coalition for Youth--that's ALL youth, with special services for LGBTQ youth, Women's Health Services--free pap smears, breast cancer screening, and birth control, a place that gave self defense lessons (not pictured), and The Golden Rule, which was a non-judgmental place to go for STD screening, including HIV screening and prevention.

Uh, not to put too fine a point on it people, but these health and counseling services benefit everybody.

Even the Lavender Library, which is exclusively volunteers and donated books, creates literacy and educational opportunities.

There was also a booth for shelter and counseling from and for spousal abuse.

And music.

And free drinks at Faces.

And a place in the food court that made kickass fries.

So the more obvious answer is THEY need to be safe. The less obvious answer is that we ALL need a safe place for health care, a safe shelter from violence, a safe person to ask to help us defend ourselves. We ALL need a friendly counseling ear. A place to celebrate. A place to cut loose and be free. A place to dance.


And if you belong to a group that is routinely marginalized, is routinely at risk for having its rights taken away, routinely fighting for basic safety, then this safe place is even more important.

So no--this place was not meant for cis straight men or women. But my husband helped me cart stuff there, and my friend and I talked to the participants and took pictures and marketed our books.

 And we were welcomed warmly. And allowed to feel safe.

Safety really SHOULD be a right. Events like Rainbow Fest or Pride are all about reinforcing that idea.

Everybody should have a safe place.

EVERYBODY should have a safe place.

 And everybody should have a group of people that treats them with respect and pride.

The hot, shirtless young men were from Faces--
their job was to wander the
 streets, look amazing, and offer drink tickets. They
 were VERY kind about allowing me to take pictures. 

The even asked me to join in.

Bless them! 

Jack and Teague and Katy

 So, I've got Kermit Flail on Monday to remind you all about this, but since Kermit Flail should be mostly about other people, I thought these guys should get their own post!

Some of you know that I took two breaks from the Little Goddess series. There was the big-ass long one between Rampant and Quickening, which was punctuated with The Green's Hill novellas to keep me from missing the place too much, and there was a shorter, two year gap, when I wrote the two colossal Bitter Moon books. (These books were later split by Harmony Ink into four volumes.)

The Bitter Moon books were epic fantasy-- there were a few love scenes, of a very mild variety.

Frankly, I needed to write sex.

So, Supernatural had just come out and while I dabbled a little in fanfic, I needed my own world, and I needed the guys to be MY guys and not Sam and Dean, and I needed the Little Goddess people because I missed them.

So I wrote five novellas--just shorts, that I put up on my old website and told people about.  Originally intended to be a one-off, the five books formed a plot arc of Jack and Teague and Katy--three people desperately in need of redemption. I finished Rampant just about the time I started writing for DSP, and I realized hey, there might be someone out there who would want to pick these guys up.  Now, at the end of Rampant I had left Teague, well, half dead, mostly, and in an unlikely place, the private fairy hill of some friends of Green. When Torquere (a now defunct pub) picked up my werewolves, I offered to write an unreleased novella, to finish out the plot arc.

When I wrote Quickening (which, like the other books of the Little Goddess, had been written as one volume and released as two because when I have worlds enough and time, I write hella long books) I included the adventure in Monterey because it related to Cory's pregnancy.  She'd jumped out of a helicopter without knowing the risks, and that was a sore point between her and her lovers.

For those of you wondering about The Green's Hill Novellas, those were the three shorts I wrote after Rampant--Guarding the Vampire's Ghost, Litha's Constant Whim, and I Love You, Asshole. Sprawling, yes--but I really had in mind a supernatural Melrose Place--yes, we have our main players--Cory, Green, Bracken, and Nicky--but everybody has a story.

So these are the stories in The Green's Hill Werewolves. 

YES, they can be read independently. But if you want to know the order, it goes as follows:

Vulnerable

Wounded--1&2

Bound--1&2

The Green's Hill Werewolves, V1, and the first story of V2

Rampant--1&2

The Green's Hill Werewolves, second story of V2

The Green's Hill Novellas

Scorched Haven (a short on my website)

Quickening--1&2


Now, I feel like I need to say a word about Katy here.

I was writing this book while I was teaching in a diverse area, nearly ten years ago. Representation wasn't a thing then--and the kids had read my other Little Goddess books. They liked that I had Arturo who was from South America, and that I had Mario who was Mexican and La Mark who was gay and black. They asked me to write more characters who were, in their words, "like them."  I wrote Katy with those kids in mind--and her original accent was quite thick. I had stunning, strong Latina girls in my classroom, going back and forth between English and Spanish as they spoke--I loved that sound. I thought it was wonderful--I wanted to capture it, make it real. Katy's backstory had already been imagined when I sat down to write, before her ethnicity. So in case anybody was wondering--no, I don't think all Mexicans are high school dropouts and drug addicts--I just wanted THIS character to have a miserable backstory.  In fact, if you look at a lot of my guys in my gay romance, you'll see a lot of similarities between them and Katy. She's just a tiny, lovely woman instead of a muscular hot guy.

I toned down Katy's accent in future edits--I didn't want people to be distracted by fears of appropriation or stereotyping. I simply wanted her to sound like the kids I loved--but when these books were recovered and re-edited for Dreamspinner, I hadn't been in the classroom for over six years. (My daughter's classroom will have the same accents in it--her best friend speaks English and Spanish and this makes me happy :-)  But I kept her background. Katy and Teague are real to me--they're survivors of a quiet class war, and their inclusion of Jack, spoiled rich kid with a lot to learn is one of the central conflicts of the story.

So for those of you who JUST picked up the Little Goddess series this summer--this is the massive werewolf backstory. For those of you who have been asking me, "Hey! Where did Jack and Teague and Katy go?", now you know. They've just been waiting their chance to come out pretty and gussied up and shiny.

Volume 1 is out on Monday.

Volume 2 is out about two weeks later.

I hope you enjoy their stories.

Solve for X

So, ZoomBoy and the phone have been working out well.

ZoomBoy, this morning as Squish and I are leaving: Mom, I'm going to have detention.

Me: Why?

ZB: I forgot my math book.

Me: Would you like me to bring it to you?

ZB: Please! It's in the basket of clothes near my bed.

Me: Groovy.

Later:

Me: It's in the attendance office. I told them you'd come by during lunch.

ZB: THANK YOU!  4x=4x -- solve for x and you'll know how many thanks I give you

Me: I'm going to guess it's infinity.

ZB: Yes!  Today is club day, can you pick me up at 4?

Me: Sure. A good thing you didn't have detention.

ZB: INFINITE THANKS!

So my spawn are grateful, and that feels good. Of course, he originally told us to get him at 4, and then at 4, he told us 5.  Squish and I were okay with that--we stopped by a used book store to look around, and Squish got a sequel she hadn't known was out.

But, while at the used book store, I saw the above picture, and I was, well, very surprised.

I asked, "So, why divide the intrigue authors like that."

The two girls--young, a little clueless, went, "Uh, there were too many for one section. They were to organize them."

"Not alphabetically."

"Too many. No, there's just too many authors."

"Hunh." (Ellery's least favorite word, that, for those of you who have read the Fish stories.)

And this was when ZoomBoy texted me and I had to run. I was going to ask them if they had LGBTQ authors, and then, I thought, "You know... why don't I just trade in a couple of author copies for store credit and sort of sneak them in there..."  Because I have Dreamspun Desires, and I'd love to just have them hanging out in category romance.

At the very least, I'd like to figure out how to have a reasonable discussion about, "You do realize this looks sexist as fuck, right?"

But, like I said, clueless clerks, small independent store, lots of dusty shelves in a conservative area.  But proof that sexism can be found in many places--even around a forgotten corner where it shouldn't be at all.

As I sit here typing...

*  The TV is on... because it's a "new" (hand-me-down-from-Mate's friends) TV, I have no idea where the remote is, and turning it off is about to become an intimate meld between writer and machine. I hope my computer doesn't think I'm cheating on it... cross your fingers... I'm going in...

*  The following was heard:

THUMP!

WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! KILL THE HOSEBEAST! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!

"Dammit, ZoomBoy, stop kicking the wall."

*from bedroom*  "Sorry!"

*  I usually have something cold to drink--sometimes a soda, mostly water-- to greet the kids with when I pick them up. I also have a snack. Since I don't usually eat until right before I get the kids, they have a permanent fondness for Del Taco.

Today, ZoomBoy practically tackled me for a small bag of cheddar potato poppers.

"Sorry, Mom--forgot my meds. Lunch was miserable."

"But don't you have money?"

"Well I DO have the money leftover from the shirt I was supposed to buy... ohhh... so, uh, I could have... uh..."

"Used that to buy lunch? Yes. That's a fine use for Daddy's change."

"Oh."

"How about we get your wallet--"

"The one I used when I went to Europe?"

"If that's the one you can find, yes.  And you put your money in it--"

"What money?"

"Well, we can give you money, since you do chores so nicely for us. Don't worry--you can keep some money with you in your wallet--"

"So I don't lose it?"

"Yes, absolutely. And maybe your student ID card?"

And the heavens opened and the angels sang.

"Oh!"

"Yes!"

"That's why people keep wallets!"

"Yes, sweetheart. Yes indeed."

He was so excited. Now let's see if he can find the damned wallet!

*  So, the kids got their CASPII scores, and ZB's scores went down a little. He was depressed. His sister's went up--but since she was already in the advanced level, she got this really passive aggressive note on her scores: Your student's scores improved, but not enough to raise her level.  Because, DUH, she was as high as she could get. Again, why emphasis on test scores drives me batshit, but that's another blog post.

This one is about how, as the two of them were in the backseat Sunday, on the way to the movie, Squish was saying, "I know you're disappointed, but remember-- the whole reason my reading scores went up is because I was reading all the books your recommended. And you helped me with my math. I couldn't have gotten my scores without your help. They'll go up next year."

I get all verklempt thinking about it. I mean... damn. My kids. Test scores be damned, that there was a test of good human beings and they both passed.

I'm so proud.

Hot Dogs

So, once I saw that aqua was canceled--so that the instructor might not become a grease spot on the pavement, I think--I hunkered down and tucked in.

I had some stuff I should have done--not gonna lie--but I figured tomorrow is going to be 104, and that's close to civilized, so we'll deal with that.

Anyway-- oddly enough, for all that I didn't go work out or run any unnecessary appliances, I did produce one or two things--

* Pulled pork--

I have an Insta-Pot which I love, so it didn't take nearly as long as it could have.

One bottle of cheap Italian dressing, one LARGE bottle of BBQ sauce, and one jar of chili sauce, dumped in the Insta-Pot with a pork brisket.

Press "Stew" twice-- do not let the pressure off, just keep it on warm for a couple of hours.  The meat should fall off the bone.

Put in a bowl with one SMALL bottle of BBQ sauce and half a bottle of yellow mustard. Mix disintegrated pork with sauces, serve on bread.

If you have a crock pot, start WAY ahead of time--like, 24 hours before--and cook the brisket with the sauces on medium or low for 24 hours.  When it starts falling off the bone, mix with the sauces and serve on bread.

Yum.

And...

*  I researched major league baseball. Did you know, for example, that players spend way too long at the stadium than they need to?  Reminds me when I used to get to school early and leave late.  I finally figured out it didn't help me do my job any better, it just made me grumpy.

*  I also researched orbs and creepy dolls. On YouTube. Just... don't ask. Anyway, I found surfer twink here narrating another YouTube video (and Jesus wouldn't me postmodernism professor have a field day with the art of narrating fake documentaries) and, well... he was adorable. Just adorable.

And I'm still freaked out by the dolls.

You're welcome:



Oh.

*  And I did dishes and made the kids vacuum.  Tomorrow should be exciting--it's NOT 109 degrees, and I may run errands.  This is really exciting for me at this point. I think I should celebrate by a bowl of cold cereal without milk.

*  And FTR, I long for a coffee maker. *sigh*

Night!

And about that weather...

First of all, I feel like I should say something about normalcy.

I recognize the times we are living in are not normal.

I recognize that the festering cum-stain on a shit-fly's ass who occupies the presidency is... horrible. Putrescence. Bile. I recognize that 85% of the people who voted for him are disgusting examples of humanity and the rest were deluded beyond drugs, beyond tripping, beyond LSD. Nazis and white supremacists. People willing to let children die as long as it didn't affect their bottom line. People who sided with "white" over "right"--or even over self-preservation. I fully expect "Arpaio" to go down in history as a word meaning the worst of the worst--the scum left over when you clean vomit off maggots off shit.

I am also afraid--international affairs are terrifying. Huston is heartbreaking. The full complement of Wesley Snipes's bad guys from Demolition Man--they occupy seats of power right now. And on a moment by moment basis there is only so much we can do.

So when I get on my blog or social media and chat about waffles or my kids or the fact that it's going to be 109 degrees tomorrow, I'm aware that the shit continues to hit the fan and there ain't no way everybody's gonna duck.

But I also know that we must still function.

Functioning must happen. We must wake up and get kids to school and wash the dishes and do the laundry. We change the world when we can.  The rest of the times we function.

So for the most part I try to keep politics out of my blog. I have a small audience--but the people who read tell me they read for the normal. For the happy. For the wisecracking kids and the adorable puppies and the bitchy cats.

So that's what I will keep writing, because we all need normal to function.

But I just thought you should know--I'm aware that most of the time this blog is a bubble. But if it's a bubble that makes people happy, helps them get through their day, helps them keep going to do good in the world, to get through worrying about folks in harms way, to have some peace before they go and do something amazing--I'm okay with that. Let Twitter conflagrate--this tiny corner of the universe is going to be kids and pets and little old ladies in the pool and the occasional knitted item. Or crochet--I'm crocheting right now. It uses yarn faster.

I hope that's okay.

So, about that weather...

Did I tell you Squish played soccer this weekend? Yes! When it got to be 105 yesterday, her team was on its last seeding tourney game. The penalty ref was pretty much heat fatigued, and Mate was pulling kids off of the field and conceding the game. By the time we got home it was 6 pm, and Mate had been running around along with Squish--he'd been sideline refereeing the games he hadn't been coaching.

He and Squish were exhausted.

She feel asleep at 7:30, after I made her shower, and stayed that way until 9:30 in the morning--so, yes, 14 hours of sleep. Somewhere in there she got off the couch and made her way to the bottom bunk, and I think she may have gotten a glass of water--but dudes. So. Tired. Mate only had two subs--he didn't sub her out any in that last game. Most of the girls could barely haul themselves across the field.

So that was yesterday.

This morning we went to pick Big T up so he could come home and do laundry. On the way home we stopped at Volks Waffles. Now, Volks Waffles was this little kiosk--like a Dutch Brothers coffee place, a drive through. We were the guy's only car, and he felt like talking, so he told us about his waffles.

Apparently he's from Belgium, and, his words, "We're famous for waffles, horses, and beer!"  So he wanted to bring Belgium waffles here--and the dough is actually imported and flown in.

It was so worth it. SO worth it.

The kids were fairly impressed--everyone but Squish, who is NOT a fan of Breakfast. I don't care. Mate and I are going to be returning. Damn. Volks Waffles. Remember that!

And that's the weekend.

I'm saying prayers for folks in Texas--and I know we'll all do what we can to help. Stay safe everybody. Stay well. Do what good you can. Include the whole human race in your prayers. Most folks are good. You don't want to miss anybody.

Night.

Mom's a Flake, but We Knew That

Me: Oh crap--I can't find the keys. 

Squish: Mom, the Tile!

Me: Yeah, here, you want to do it?

Squish: Uh, Mom?

Me: What?

Squish: The keys are outside?

Me: Crap. Give me the phone.  I need to call your dad to come unlock the car. 

Squish: Cool. I"m gonna go watch YouTube.  

Seriously-- who needs to cut class when mom does it for you?

* * *

 

Tonight was Open House for Squish, AND soccer practice. So Mate and I decided that I'd go to Open House, he and Squish would do soccer practice as usual and ZoomBoy...

Well, ZoomBoy would hang out at home.

Which is fine. He's thirteen. No worries.

Unless, of course, you don't tell ZoomBoy.

In the middle of Open House I get the following text:

ZB: Mom?

Me: Yeah?

ZB: Am I supposed to be alone?

Me: Is it BAD that you're alone?

ZB: No. Just making sure I'm supposed to be alone.

Me: Well not FOREVER. I'll be home with groceries around 8:30.

ZB: Cool.

*  *  * 

A woman came out of the cafeteria at Open House with a beautiful baby, and while the school secretary and I were losing our collective shit over this pre-Raphaelite cherub, the mom and I started talking. She's the new art docent leader, and I'm so excited, because I'm going to be art docent again!  Also, she's starting a crochet/knit craft club.

I said, "So, uh, about ten years ago I made the switch from acrylic to wool--"

"Oooh..." she said, no irony at all. "You must be really good!"

So, uh, shh.  Don't tell the nice woman that I'm a total fraud, okay?

* * *

Mate, over phone: Dammit! I need to go to Staples again! 

Me, wandering around my office space, wondering when the maid quit and remembering-- WE NEVER HAD A MAID! : Why hon? What happened? Didn't you just go?

Mate: I bought a new hole punch and it DISINTEGRATED with the first little bit of pressure.

Me: Do we still not know where the old one went?

Mate: No idea.

Me *idly looking through my pen drawers*:  Oh. Hey. It's right here. Don't worry about Staples. I've got you covered.

Mate: Really?

Me: Totally serious. Just looking me in the face.

Mate: Cool. I mean, seriously. Cool.

Me: Well, you sacrifice enough to the junk drawer, sometimes it answers your prayers.

Night everybody!

Bra-O'clock

A super quick story tonight--but a good one.

So, was making dinner when Squish got home from practice. Her dad had to go run an errand, so there I was, finishing dishes and stirring the pot, when she starts a series of complicated maneuvers that most women will recognize from some point in their lives: the taking off of a sports bra without actually taking off the shirt that went over it.

I watched this, wide-eyed.

"So, uh, was that bothering you, Squish?"

"No. It was just time for it to go."

"So, uh, bra-o'clock then?"

She nodded seriously. "Uh-huh. What time is bra-o'clock for YOU, Mom?"

"About two hours after you're in bed."

"Man, that's rough."

"Yeah. Tell me about it. Uh, go put that in the wash, okay?"

"Sure. What's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti."

"Awesome! Happy bra-o'clock!"

"Yeah. To you too."

*sigh* ftr? As I blog? I'm still wearing my bra. Lucky little Squisher.

A Brief Story About the Eclipse

So, this morning ZoomBoy woke me up and said, "Guess what, Mom! I made you a cereal box viewer!"

And I got to my desk, and there it was, a stunning replica of the two he and Squish had made the day before.

I was very touched.

I could now view the little sunspot of the eclipse without frying my eyes and my fragile brain.

It was very considerate.

I grabbed the cereal box and took it with me as I dropped Squish off, so I could look at it in the park, when I was done walking the dogs.

But Squish assumed it was HER viewer, so she decided to keep it.

I told her she was mistaken, and she begged me to use the one she'd left at home and I said yes, because she's Squish.

At the park, I poked a hole in a business card and looked at the shadow on my phone case. Because low tech is low tech.  While I was there three women gathered on the soccer field and passed their own viewer around like a joint at a beer bach, and a guy driving a taxi cab parked in the upper parking lot so he could check it out on his phone.

Still, the eclipse didn't peak until I got home, with my coffee.  I tried to use the viewer, but it was really sort of anticlimactic.

So I came inside to sit and drink my coffee and watch it on the computer like a civilized person.

And I looked outside and made a remarkable discovery.  The hole in the patio table where the umbrella was supposed to go made a very fine eclipse viewer, and I didn't have to move much but a hose.

So I watched the eclipse on my computer and out the door.

And drank my coffee.

And read this hilarious meme that made me glad the eclipse only lasted for a few short hours.

Scuse me, gotta pee...

So, developed a UTI this weekend--which, since the AZO seems to be working seems to stand for "irritation" rather than "infection"--thank Goddess.

But besides wanting nothing more than to read on the toilet and be left alone, I managed to be a lot of places!

* Friday, Chicken and I went to see Logan Lucky. Now, I have to admit-- The Italian Job, Ocean's 11, Leverage-- we are FANS of heist movies and conmen as a whole. Put this trope in the hands of a bunch of high energy young people--playing slow and careful southerners-- was just about as awesome as you think it was. Also, hearing Channing Tatum speak with what we think was his natural accent was actually a knee-melting experience. (For her, it was watching Adam Driver. For me, it was seeing Mr. Tatum being a good parent. *sniffle* Every time.)  Anyway--it was fun. Go see it.

* Saturday, we went to Opening Day for soccer. Now this year, it was a little different--it's the first time in 9 years we only had one kid playing.  Squish's team was coached by Mate this year, and I as sort of nostalgic as I saw them walk across the field. Not nostalgic enough to feel bad when we got to leave at 1:00 pm instead of 4:00 pm, but a little nostalgic. I mean, once upon a time, we had three kids in this league.

*  ZoomBoy was a little sad--all his old player friends were still playing.  He's the first to acknowledge--they're all taller than he is and more mature, and although none of us said it, he would have gotten the crap beaten out of him this year. But still. He was sad. So in an attempt to get him to cheer up, I said, "Hey, kid! Go get a selfie with that cow!"  Of course, I didn't realize it was the Chik Fil-a cow until ZoomBoy got back with the picture (I saw the head of the cow, not the T-shirt when I sent him off on his quest) --so I apologize for not boycotting the cow in the middle of the soccer field, but he made ZoomBoy laugh, and we didn't buy any chicken, so I think we're karmically safe.

* We left Mate to continue Opening Day and came back to eat lunch and, in my case, to nap fiercely for an hour, because we had another thing to do. My lovely friend Ambrosia is having a baby, and I crocheted all through Squish's games to have her blanket ready on time. Now the blanket is not enough--just isn't--so I stopped at Target to get some more stuff.  Now one of my problems with buying ANYTHING these days is that unless you're at the grocery store where everyone knows your name, there are a thousand bits of paperwork at the end. "Do you have a rewards card? Do you want one? Do you remember your number? That's not your number, can we enroll you? Do you want to use it now? If you buy two of these items you can get a ten dollar gift certificate and a free baby!"  I mean, not to sound like the "Get off my lawn!" guy, but in the old days, they didn't gouge you in prices, and you just gave them your card and checked out. Was easy. But no-- we were all dressed, I had makeup on (!) and I had to pee. (Cause see the opening item on my agenda.)  And the clerk was like, "If you go back and get another one of these you can get both items and a ten dollar card back and--"

"That's sweet. The baby shower is in ten minutes and we just spent fifteen minutes in a three person line."

"Okay then."

She got us out pretty quickly after that--and Squish did one of the best backseat wrapping jobs I've ever seen, and huzzah! We made it.

But whew!

* Once there of course, we enjoyed ourselves immensely. I tired--and actively engaged in a wonderful conversation with the father of the baby's aunt--so I didn't get any pictures of Ambrosia which is too bad. She was beautiful.  But I DID have ZB get a picture of their hilarious and delicious cake, and that's a plus.

Oh!

So, one of the shower games was "How It's Made"--or, as you've seen it on YouTube, the "balloon humping game."  Of course the fun is in the title, and telling Squish and ZoomBoy to "go inside with your mother" didn't keep them from getting the joke. So this morning, the following conversation happened.

"Uh, what are you doing with that water balloon, son?"

"I"m putting it in the back of my shorts and then seeing what happens when it pops."

"I'm going to assume you'll get wet."

"Excellent!"

God love thirteen YO boys!