Blog Fear

on tuesday my interview with Booked goes live, and i’m horrified a bunch of people (or, you know, 5 or 6) will click on over here and see all the random shit i get up to on this blog.

i have to have some pertinent information….

okay all links to stories are under “things of mine” that tab page thingum.

that might be all i’ve got for now. less than a week until Warmed and Bound, less than a week until the reunion. i have things to mail, t-shirts to finish, beads to weave into a black wig, swords to buy, packages to track, stories to revise, A CHILD TO RAISE, sunburn to nurse, cowlick to tame, books to read…  and that’s just the fun stuff ❤

life is good. i love everyone. lil sis, see you in less than a week.

and now,  we dance…….

also, i tried really hard to NOT post a gaga song, but it just didn’t work out….

2am, no tylenol pm, no benadryl…

,,, and so i’m awake. feedback given on 2 pieces, photo funya explored, Deadly Women watched, mild facebook stalking complete and unsatisfactory, dogs with full bellies (ALL ELEVEN), menfolk asleep, fire humming (i know crackling would sound better, but it’s just NOT, it’s humming), ceiling stared at, head cocked, tomorrow planned for, today evaluated and found satisfactory (and more than satisfactory), domesticity planned including heels, snow falling – or drifting, or floating, slowly. slowly, slowly….

low lights and the sounds of the keys. typing to hear them, too braindead to put my fingers to good use. listening to the fire and my fingers, and the drone of a documentary voiceover.

can. i. feel. my. heartbeat. as a sensation or as a sound? sensation. i never hear it. it rattles, coughs, bounces off my ribs and laughs, large and sloppy wet. the color of meat in fridge light at midnight, in the last hours before it goes bad.

but it’s been this color since….

well, at least it’s fat, and it works. my eyes are swollen – they might be getting rounder, my contacts slide around on them a lot lately.

bridget is drumming her fingertips (no nails, they’re bitten down) on a greyish formica table in the rec room, chin on her opposite palm, waiting for me to get my shit together so she and charlotte can get on with their dastardly plans – charlotte now fancies them villians, with arched backs and arched eyebrows, black capes and snickers and mischief. bridget now knows they are children, doing things movie-style because sometimes there is simply no other way to do them….

my soft kitty entry video wouldn’t load, that sucks, the timeslot is closed. i didn’t even know what the prize was, but i wanted to enter.

that’s all, i think. for now. glad when i wake up it will be friday.

wait, there are real things!

tomorrow is adam’s big Haircut Day. he goes in a baby, comes out a man. i’ll take too many pictures. he won’t be scared, he’s too excited. I’M excited.

the puppies are 4 weeks old this morning. they eat mush from a cracked devilled eggs platter and bark and growl and wink and blink. adam has selected a large and fluffy one, not the largest but easily the most mellow – and dubbed him R2D2. now when there are puppy riots and escapes, he heads directly for the door and into the house. he wants snuggled and scratched, and to sprawl on the lap of my son, to make eye contact and sniff, to learn about their relationship. my son wants them to play all the time. he is tender and careful and comfortable – they make a good match. i like them together. every boy needs a dog.

that is all. and here are the corresponding photos:


random love courtesy of insomnia…

tuesday is a magic number, too

today is such a good day i could have sex with it.

tuesdays are generally happy as a rule, as i am predisposed to like tuesday, and this is a good one. more than the sum of the morning’s parts thus far – and those parts have been good.

munchkin is back on track with the potty, even though i have had to delve deep into my lifelong sticker treasury to keep him guessing and motivated – today he got a Van Gogh cow, but it’s worth it. he puts them all on the inside of a notebook he carries around – his Big Deal notebook. the one he does his Work in. so if he’ll tuck his package down in the potty, smile real big and say “i can say penis. i pushed it down there with my balls,” i’ll give all my damned stickers away.

duotrope’s newsletter has informed me of a zombie publication site that i may already have some pieces for – TWO of the upcoming anthologies may fit some things i already have, just need to do some late-night tweaking. and they’re BOOK form. i could hold a pulp zombie anthology in my hands and flip to a certain page and BAM, there a story would be.

it’s dreary as fuck. i’m happy as fuck. heather’s modified scrubs (that i hemmed twice) now fit and she’s at her first day of clinicals,  mr. diego pullups is playing racecars and busting matchbox cars all to hell while singing dream a little dream, morey got the burroughs cd, i have possibly made a new online friend (she will be T– until i have permission to use her name) who is a veritable fount of interesting and curious information, i’ve gained 5 lbs as of yesterday, the spankin’ new propane stove my beastly sexy caveman provider protecter husband installed is keeping us toasty warm, the birdfeeder is full of everything from chickadees to cardinals, i have a fresh cup of coffee, Halloween is breathing down our necks, and in NINE DAYS i will be married FOUR YEARS – to a man that sometimes disappears in the wee morning hours to buy coffee for me when he realizes i’ll have none when i wake….

October Kick-Off: Sheri Moon Zombie

….and the time flew…..

at one point, i was a really pretty boy… at another point, a zombie… plus here is our first family portrait, courtesy of JC (jon not jesus)