Batman Wins

Batman wins my birthday.

I received some most-excellent (and way too many) birthday gifts, but Batman wins. I’m sorry. He does. Believe me, I loved all the cards and t-shirts and gift cards, but Batman bought us a tiny parcel of land in Scotland making us technically—legally—a Lord and Lady.

Yes.

That’s right. You read that correctly. And just in case you’re wondering if this is in any way legit, it totally most likely is:

https://establishedtitles.com/

And besides, it’s being endorsed by a comedian. The same comedian and podcast that has scored me a sexy pair of Shady Rays sun glasses for FREE because Batman used their code to cash in on a sweet BOGO promotion. And now, he’s bought us land in Scotland, giving us official titles. I like this podcast. I like it a lot. (Thank you, Tom Segura @ Your Mom’s House Podcast!)

So, yeah, Batman by far wins the birthday because now we have even more of a reason to visit Scotland. We literally own two square feet of land, and damnit, we’re going to see it one day. But again, a definite shout out to everyone who called and texted and reminded me of how much I’m loved. It feels wonderful to know I’ve survived 35 years knowing so many awesome people.

I’m going to keep this post short because I have thousand things to do, and this blog almost got shoved to the side again. Apparently, the wedding is around 6 weeks away (?!?!?!) and not the “two-three months” I keep thinking it is. So much to be done.

*So* much.

Enjoy your weekend and I hope you all purchase your own plots of lands or hint about it strongly enough to your loved ones or significant others. We could be neighbors 😊

~ Lady Caitlin signing off

Showered in Love

I had my bachelorette/bridal party this weekend 😊

Honestly, I doubted I would see it. Not just because of Covid, but because Batman and I were together so long before getting engaged, that I really wondered if I’d ever get to wear the bridal sash or the tiara with the most blinged-out penises. So, it was nice finally achieving this milestone most of my friends hit in the early part of the last decade. But, it’s cool. We’re all on different journeys.

Since I live near St. Augustine, I had a few close friends join me for dinner at this fabulous restaurant right in the historic district (though the restaurant is fairly new) that perfectly fits our vintage theme. It’s called Prohibition Kitchen, and guess what their hook is? Yup: prohibition-era style everything. From food to drinks to atmosphere, it was the perfect little joint to consume all the old-time yummies while sipping through penis straws and answering a penis-themed questionnaire. Unfortunately (but mostly at my request) there were no strippers. It’s not really my thing, and one or two male reviews was one or two male reviews too many, especially when they come David-Bowie-ing their junk at me. No. Just…no.

After dinner, the ladies and I participated in an escape room, and just like my first time, I was little to no help. But I’m okay with that. The room, like the restaurant, had to fit the theme, so I chose the Lucky Duck Speakeasy. Our objective was to find the clues left in the speakeasy to uncover the murderer and disarm the bomb in 60 minutes! Let me repeat: I was little to no help. I solved ONE puzzle because it was a picture puzzle and I’m not terribly stupid at those. That was it. Everyone else (although shout-out to Shelby and Jen!) were solving things left and right. But did we make it you ask? With THIRTY SECONDS TO SPARE. I must say, I’m friends with some smart, funny women.

And Sunday, my mom and sister threw me the most beautiful shower. I actually wore a white dress that I managed not to spill anything on, and heels that propelled me a little off the ground—and I didn’t fall or trip once! Several of my out-of-state friends were able to zoom in, although they were not privy to the mimosa bar, or the several delicious appetizers and desserts scattered throughout. The whole thing was so magical and enjoyable, and not just because most of it was viewed through a  mimosa-lens, but because it just *was*. And because I felt so incredibly showered in love.

I’m sad that the weekend had to end, but I’m overjoyed I was able to have it at all. Nothing is guaranteed, and after so many years of wondering, I can say I finally had my turn—and it was perfect.

Thanks Ma and Court!

Now onto the wedding! Less than two months!

Everything Became Terrible

I actually almost fainted on Sunday. It sucked for two reasons.

1: I’ve always wanted to faint. It’s been on my bucket list, and while I know a bunch of you are like wtf would you want to do that? I don’t know—I’ve just been curious. What’s it like? Does everything just turn off? Like, when I’m dead, I want to look back and say yep, totally fainted that one time when I was alive. But I can’t say it. Not yet.

2: I ACTUALLY ALMOST FAINTED. The fact that I live in Florida makes this as surprising to me as it does to you. And, it’s not like I’m skipping around all the states; I’ve been here the entire time, and I’ve never overheated like this. Yes, we’ve been having record-high heat, but this was a rookie mistake to the billionth degree. (I should know better).

I was sitting in the shade at a restaurant near midday-ish while out with the family. The shade turned into partial shade, then into very limited shade, and then I was sitting in the sun. It was fine. I’d had my entire pina colada to cool me down, half my water, and a small portion of my food. Sure, I was fine. But when I stood up, everything became terrible.

Someone must’ve dipped me in lava because I was too hot to breathe. Never thought I’d have that feeling. I’ve definitely vomited from dizziness, but not heat, and I felt like I was going to puke if I didn’t get a cold gust of wind on me—so I flew indoors. Except, it wasn’t much cooler inside the restaurant as it was on the patio. Then the dizziness-heat spell really took over, and I bent forward, hands on my knees.

Breathed in. Breathed out.

Ripped the stupid mask from my face and threw it on the floor (had to put it back on when I went inside)

Breathed in. Breathed out.

Everything grew hazy and I thought—this is it. This is the moment I’m going to faint. This one. Right here. I knew, because I could feel my legs giving out, so I tried sitting before I would collapse, because that would hurt (I think?) and just be terrible. Thankfully, Batman was there and helped set me on the floor, and because I was able to keep that tiny bit of brain energy from being used, it stayed on. Someone slid me a cup of cold water. Someone else called for a cold rag. All I saw were shoes and shin bones and on some level I knew I was mortified because I was sitting on the ground at the entrance of a Bahama Breeze like a stupid tourist, trying not to pass the fuck out.

Had I stayed in the sun any longer, I probably would have. Had I not gotten inside when I did, it might have happened. Again, I repeat: I’ve lived in Florida my entire life and I’ve never felt like this. Which means it’s hot out there people, so make smart decisions. And also, like, stay hydrated because as delicious as pina coladas are, they don’t act the same as water (sadly).

Yeah, so this event was a bummer on two levels, but at least I got to see my family before the near-pass out. I’ll take a win when I can get one. And double points—I didn’t have to pay (thanks dad & S!) So, still finding silver linings sprinkled amongst the bullshit. Ah, life. The fun we have together…

Hence All the Drinking

I’ve been drinking through the wedding wine.

This is what isolation does. Forces you to realize that making one of your *favorite* wines one of the *official* wedding wines, and then being *super* proactive and stocking up on said wine was *maybe* not the best decision. But how was I to know we were all going to be thrown into some weird parallel version of reality this year? I plan for normal years, not ones that feel like someone started a Jumanji game.

Still. I need to cut back on this wine drinking. This is for my GUESTS who I will be INVITING should the world CONTINUE to turn in the normal, un-Twilight-Zone fashion that we’ve suddenly found ourselves in. But who knows what’s going to happen by the end of this year? This country could have a completely different social and economic face by November, and I, a super planner (except when it comes to writing. Crazy, right?!)  have no way of planning for that. Hence all the drinking.

Batman has already scolded me many times. It’s nice to know I can throw heart disease and antioxidants at him as actual defenses. I need the wine to keep my heart healthy and keep my youth—two things he’ll need if his laundry service continues. And I mean, he’s not *really* scolding me. He’s more like, “Babe—we bought that for the wedding. What’re you doing?” (I think the word is catch. He’s catching me drinking, which just means I need to be more stealthy about it. Note to self – learn to be stealthy)

But then I give him the spiel about my genetics and youth and it’s okay again and until he sees me dive into the next mini bottle. Except now, he really can’t give me any grief because of this:

It looked way worse but Batman was trying to cover his tracks

Not sure if you can see it, but I’ve got a busted lip. No—he didn’t hit me. OBVIOUSLY. Batman has only hurt me one time, and that was when his dumb butt broke up with me back in college (worse mistake of his life). No, we were watching movie clips on my phone and doing it the smartest way possible: laying on our backs and holding the phone up above our heads. You know, testing gravity. And then he laughed at something Matt Damon said and he lost his grip on my Android and it CRASHED LANDED ON MY LIP.

Blood instantly.

Lots, and lots of blood.

Oh, yeah. I’ve got another one in my back pocket now. Like that that time I tickled him and on reflex, he kneed me in the head. Or the time he dropped his printer on my foot and checked the printer first to see if it broke. Oh yeah. Phone-bleeding-lip will now be a story I can use to get me out of things. Like…oh…I don’t know…busting open another bottle of wedding wine whilst in isolation? I need the swelling to go down, guys. I’m getting married in seven months.

Unless 2020 takes us in a new direction with zombies or vampires or techno-advanced super-genius yetis looking for retribution. Honestly, at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised.

If You Love Somebody’s Art – Go Tell Them

“Thank you so much for creating a wonderful universe.”

This is a message I received about my Arizal Wars series. Now that I’ve stopped ugly-sobbing over it, I can write coherently about how you should never give up on your dreams because *amazing* things like this happen. (And yes, this is freaking amazing. Can I get an amen from all my authors out there?)

The message comes from an original and loyal fan—one Batman found back when he did his stint teaching (for the record, he is brilliant, and can teach kids super hard math and history, but the common core system is beyond eye-rolling, and he could only take so much bullshit). Anyway, during his limited teaching years, he “pimped” my series (not in a threatening kind of way. More like, ‘oh you like to read? My girlfriend writes books’ kind of way) because, why not? It’s YA/NA, and students are the richest resource there is. And one magical student bit, and since then, she has asked about the series through every drought it’s embraced. She reached out when I was writing BTT, and a year before when I decided to take a break. I’ve probably even posted about not giving up because of one of her messages asking when the next book will be out.

This is what we need. It’s not reassurance—it’s a reminder.

If you love somebody’s art—GO TELL THEM.

I would *love* to tell Betty Smith how freaking awesome A Tree Grows in Brooklyn is. Every time I finish it, I flip it over, stare at the jacket, stare at her name, and wonder how I can somehow summon her from the dead just so I can fangirl over all the feels her book gives me every time I read it. Seeing as that’s sadly impossible, I’ve considered contacting her family. This is a legit idea I’ve tossed around and may one day pursue, but do they care if I like their mother’s/aunt’s/grandmother’s book? Not unless it comes with royalties, so why bother? I just want to shout at someone from that family how that book has affected me—but it won’t mean a thing to them. The only one who would understand is Betty Smith, which is why I need to summon her. Grr.

Maybe I’ll meet her in the afterlife—wherever that is—and I can fangirl over her there. In the meantime, I have to give a shout out to Sarah! Thank you for believing in (and continually asking about) this series. It truly makes a difference 😊

This Could’ve Been Bad

So, I don’t wear makeup. It’s not my thing and it never has been, and I am completely fine with that. I used to think I just hadn’t reached that “magic age” when I’d suddenly look at the stuff and it would all make sense, but it never came (and I feel like it should’ve by now). I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s just not meant for me, and again I utter: I am completely fine with that.

But then come the makeup trials.

I didn’t plan for two. In fact, I only wanted one. Just one lady who would do it perfectly on the first attempt because she could read my mind and pull out what I couldn’t articulate, and it’d be magical and I’d sign the contract and we’d be best friends forever. But this didn’t happen. None of this. What did happen was unwanted fake eyelashes and disappearing cheeks bones and Batman actually RECOILING when he saw me. Like, for real, guys. He jumped back. And he sees me first thing every morning.

Now, I’m not bashing on this artist. She did her thing, and maybe for another client, it would’ve been perfect. It just didn’t work for me. She drew on a completely new face, and even though I’m not winning super model of the year, I think my face is decent enough to keep. I just wanted some enhancements and I got a new set of eyes and no cheekbones. Call me crazy for wanting to look like myself in my wedding day.

I wanted to like it. I really did. I wanted to spin around and see the doves and hear the harp and just know this is what I was going to look like when I married Batman. But again, none of that happened. She spun me and I think I might’ve winced because who the hell was that? It… did not look amazing. It also didn’t look like me. At all. It looked like some version of myself that took a wrong turn somewhere, like a Caitlin who maybe had a tougher time in life. I wanted it to be perfect, but I ended up wondering how much people would truly look me in my face on my wedding day because I hoped they wouldn’t. That’s when I knew it wasn’t a go.

I took Batman with me on the second trial because I figure if he’s going to recoil, I should know sooner rather than later. Thankfully, he didn’t. He loved it, and that’s probably because the lady paid attention to what I wanted (a natural look) and how I wanted to feel (like I wasn’t wearing makeup). It only took two trials, but this could’ve been bad. It was the thing I was putting off to last because I knew I would have issues.  But I’m glad it’s over.

And yes, even though Batman saw my day-of makeup, it’s still OKAY. He has no idea what the whole thing is going to look like and honestly, neither do I, but I’m hoping it will all come together nicely. 😊

How many makeup trials did you have? Do you wear a lot of makeup, or prefer to go natural like me? What are your thoughts on your partner’s makeup?

And Then I Lost My Ring

(I’ll preface this with we have it. We found it. Well, Batman did, and I love him even more now. Plucked the thing right out of the grass, all proud at his Sherlock skills for spotting the ring amidst the random bricks and plastic water bottles where it hid. But yes, the ring—THE RING—is secure again on my finger (sort of) where it belongs, and not lost somewhere in the gross exterior of our house that we are most definitely planning on cleaning up. Probably.)

This all started because I wanted to water Artemis. Simple desire. Keep my avocado plant alive, which I’ve done now for half a year  with just a little watering every day, and twice when I can remember. Batman and I were about to head out when I realized I hadn’t watered her yet. My overpriced fancy blue watering can sat in the corner where I’d left it the night before. I reached for it, poured out the remnants, and then turned on the faucet.

And then a lot of things happened at once.

As I turned the knob, I felt something move over my foot. Remember, I live in Florida, so even with it being winter, I’m still sporting sandals ninety percent of the time, meaning my skin is exposed. So, when I felt this thing moving on me, I felt it moving on my actual body, on my actual skin receptors.

And it was a SNAKE.

**INTERNAL VOMIT**

**STILL VOMITING**

It slithered over my foot and disappeared beneath a pile of bricks and I just…reacted. I screamed out my utter terror and disgust that it TOUCHED me, and in my insane bout of flailing, I snapped my hand back just right, and my ring—THE RING—went sailing from my finger and out into the abyss of the untamed, unmowed lawn, complete with mysterious disappearing, snakes.

Not good.

Not fucking good at all.

Batman walked out, unaware of the struggle. Of the panic attack I was having over everything. All I wanted to do was water Artemis—who still hasn’t been watered—and I was petrified of a snake I could no longer see, and an engagement ring I no longer possessed. Goodbye groceries and errands and all normal life. All that exited was combing through every inch of my lawn until I found my important shiny tiny piece of jewelry.

AND THE SNAKE.

A huge concern, seeing as I never really got a good look at where it slithered off to, but my ring was missing. That was the main horror. I’m getting married in nine months and I had no engagement ring. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it the entire ten minutes Batman and I picked through the lawn where I thought I saw it go flying, and with the snake slithering secretly nearby, it felt more like an eternity. Then, just when I knew I’d have to start the new trend of brides not wearing their engagement rings, Batman reached right down and plucked something shiny from the ground.

So pretty. So not lost.

A thousand waves of relief washed over me. If anything, that day was a win. Not because I did my taxes successfully (I think!) or because I adulted by doing laundry and groceries, but because I DID NOT LOSE MY ENGAGEMENT RING. Even though it flew off my finger in a moment of terror, I still have it. The day was still a success. And yes, I know I need to have it re-sized. I’m getting to it. I’ll only put it off one or two more scares like this one before I get it fitted smaller.

How about you? Any scares? With losing jewelry, spotting a snake, or both?

P.S. Also just now realized this was supposed to be  a IWSG post…so those looking for that post, see you in March!

Seriously Though – Man in The High Castle

…I’ve been slacking.

I blame Man in the High Castle. If it wasn’t cocaine-addictive like every other show I mention, then maybe—MAYBE—I would’ve gotten a bunch more writing down over the last *cough* week or two *cough* instead of the –maybe—one to two pages I’ve written.

I also blame the wedding.

Wait.

That was a little much. Let me rephrase:

The best day ever is requiring a lot of my creative attention and Pintrest is a thing, so I shouldn’t wonder where all my time has been going.

Still. Even though I usually write at least a little every day (although I’ve been giving myself a day off here and there) I feel like I haven’t moved the story along as much as I should’ve, or wanted to. In my defense, there have been A LOT of battle scenes which take FOREVER to write, but that’s not my fault. Every time we get past a fight sequence, I hope my characters will calm down and give me some dialogue or something. They do, but then someone else attacks or a new enemy arrives and it’s back to the scenes that take FOREVER. It’s really my character’s fault. That’s what I’m getting at. I’m only the vessel, and I work better when they’re not in the middle of a shit storm. But this is the final book, and the whole thing is a unified attack/invasion on one planet—I should’ve expected the shit storm.

Anyway, just wanted all my excuses listed so I don’t feel as bad about my lazy work ethic. But that’s how it goes. Sometimes you work a lot; sometimes it’s a little. As long as some work gets done, I won’t feel like complete crap about myself and my (non-existent) writing career.

Seriously though—Man in the High Castle. Go watch. Please. And let’s discuss how shitty the world would be if we lost WWII. I could barely get through French. Don’t think I’d make it if I had to speak German or Japanese. And according to MITHC, that will just not fly.

And also: Joe Blake is really cute 😊

This is Why You Don’t Wait Impatiently

So, I’m kind of impatient. And not in a cute way (is there a cute way?) but in a crazy, annoy-my-own-self and everyone around me kind of way. It’s not good. Those who know me are probably nodding their heads. Yes, she is that insane kind of impatient! God forbid the server takes too long or the car in front of me goes a *mile* under the speed limit. I WILL MAKE IT KNOWN. It’s one of the things I really hate about myself.  But I can’t help it. I’m an impatient person, and despite all my calming techniques and counting to ten and positive mental perspective…at my core…I just want shit to hurry up.

In addition to being highly impatient (probably the correct term) I’m also a planner. I like things done wwwwwaaaayyyy in advance because then I know it’s been taken care of. I don’t have to worry about it because the task has been completed. And there have been a lot of tasks lately, one of which is a lovely little vacation for me and the hubs once we get hitched. Destination: Oahu.

Airplane tickets are booked (high-five past Caitlin) and next it’s onto the resort. Only, we’ll be staying in November 2020 and my credit card expires in September 2020.

**sideways glance**

Anyone ever been caught here? I’ve never come across this in all my adult credit-card carrying life. DENIED my purchase due to my card expiration date. It needs to be active/current at the time of check-in. Okay. Fine. Makes sense.

So, heart already racing (I need this fixed now! Not tomorrow—now!) I call Capital One screaming REPRESENTATIVE enough times to scare the automated message into transferring me to a live human being. When I finally speak with her, I explain my situation. My card expires in September. I need a new card with a further/future expiration date so that I can book a hotel room for this November. Very simple. I used small words and spoke in my gentle voice and everything. She says no problem, my new card will arrive in 4-6 days. I need it in my hands now, but okay, I’ll wait.

And, I do. Impatiently. I checked the mail the next day. And the next day. And the next. And the next, and every day until I got it which was amazing because YES—I was finally going to book the resort! The box will be checked! I can focus on other things and put this on the shelf!

Except she sent me the same fucking card.

Expiration date September 2020

**blinks**

You’re telling me, I waited impatiently every day under a LIE because I got the wrong person in the call center? What was so confusing about my explanation? Nothing! Nothing was confusing! Which is what I told the second person in the call center after explaining my situation again. I NEED A CARD WITH A FUTURE EXPIRATION DATE—SOME POINT PAST NOVEMBER 2020. ANY MONTH AND YEAR WILL DO BUT IT HAS TO BE PAST NOVEMBER 2020. I didn’t scream any of this. I said it very quickly, and very passionately while apologizing because I was hungry and (as you know) an extremely impatient person. After confirming he understood what I meant (God, I hope he did) he said my new card with a future expiration date will be in the mail in 4-6 days. Nope. Not good enough. Can’t go through another week of nail-bitings, so I paid an expedited fee to get it here by the end of this week.

Look, we’re all crazy about some things, right? I’ll be patient for a while, but when it’s gone, it’s gone. *shrugs* #noapologies

What about you? Are you this impatient? Have you ever been denied a purchase due to the expiration date? How far in advance do you plan things?

Welcome, 2020!

Hello, and welcome to my first post of 2020!

I hope this year/decade/century/lifetime is filled with amazingness for all of you, and all the things that help you grow and give you love 😊

You know how time passes and you realize it’s going, but you don’t really register the time? That was all of December. Christmas snuck up like a ninja, and now it’s the first day of the new year. I haven’t blogged since LAST DECADE, and that is not the lazy kind of behavior I have planned for 2020. I almost missed this post, but decided writing it was more important than napping, and so, here we are. First day of 2020. The new year and new decade. It’s also leap year. What else is happening…

Oh, yeah—

I’M GETTING MARRIED THIS YEAR!!

**dances aggressively**

A thousand smiley faces and high-fives and cartwheels I could never do when I was young (or now) but still—cartwheels for everyone! Batman and I met and started dating in Spring 2007 and this November 2020, we are *finally* making it official in the government’s eyes. It’s been official with us for a while, but it’ll be nice to wear the white dress and to see him all dressed up like James Bond, which is how he wants to look. Fine by me. It’s an improvement from the blue and orange Dumb and Dumber suits he was talking about a few years ago. Or coming dressed as Han Solo (which would’ve been hot…but you know…) so the fact that he settled on James Bond is A-OKAY with me 😊

Here’s a picture of us in case you forgot what we look like:

He’s in his Adam Banks 99 Mighty Ducks Jersey that his super awesome fiancé got him, and I’m in my Hufflepuff House Sweater that the luckiest guy in the universe got me. We make a cute couple every once in a while. But never in the morning. We’re gross in the morning.

I also got a stuffed ovary to go with my vagina (we previously had the eyeball and testicle). Batman got the skin, and I must say, the family is growing nicely:

Sorry to backtrack, but awesome gifts are worth mentioning. And here’s one more. If you’ve followed my blog or a few months, or at least from the end of October, you may remember reading this post about writing the books and finding the readers, or you may have skipped it or started it and stopped—whatever your involvement, I basically stated all I had to do was write the books and find the readers (sounds simple enough, right?), and casually mention making it into a banner or plaque that I could conveniently place in the empty space above my window. Look what my mom got me:

Thanks, Ma! (And thanks to everyone who made Christmas 2019 a special one 😊)

I’m excited for 2020. Batman and I are still on our kick of losing weight for the big day, we’ve decided to finally renovate and do some actual landscaping on the house we moved into in 2015 (we rent, but have permission from the owners to upgrade), and we’re planning an awesome honeymoon to HI! I’m sure new challenges are coming our way—and I’m sure 99% of them will have to do with my car—but I’m ready for this year. I’m ready to say ‘I do’ to the weirdo who argued with me about Sin City over twelve years ago when I was trying to check out our waiter.

Ten months and we’re official, babe.

What about you? What’s happening for you in 2020? Or, I should ask, what are you planning for? Whatever it is, let’s rock 2020 😊

P.S. Shout out to my dad and Sharon for getting me these *super* comfy and fashionably awesome jammy pants. I love them!: