Category: Major Life Events

Welcome, 2020!

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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!:

It Did Not Go Well

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Batman and I haven’t been taking Appa with us on our daily walks. That probably makes us terrible pet parents, but whatever. I make up for it in overindulging my baby with expensive cookies that look like Oreos. The dog is far from spoiled. But he’s *extremely* hyper and energetic and sixty pounds of all muscle, so when he pulls on his harness, you go flying. Well, I go flying because I’m weak and have fragile hands and always think he’s easier to walk than he is. (Don’t get me wrong. Appa is a wonderful—if not the best—dog, but he’s definitely a handful. I know. I heard the vet talking about us outside of the exam room.)

So, I’ve been pushing to take him back on walks with us because 1) he absolutely loves it 2) you’re *supposed* to take your dog on walks 3) Batman usually ends up with the leash. It’s terrible because again, it’s usually my suggestion to take the dog with us, but after Appa tugs too hard the first few times, Batman automatically reaches for the leash, like it’s his personal goal to conquer the beast—and show me how. I don’t object. I get my hands back—all red and sore—and get to walk in peace while Batman and Appa play Alpha vs Beta, with Appa continually losing. You think he would learn. But he’s outside, exploring the neighborhood he so rarely gets to see. It’s a sort of freedom, and I don’t think playing tug of war with his dad bothers him the way it bothers me and Batman. So, I fight for him. I fight for him to go on our walks and the other day, Batman agreed.

It did not go well.

It started out fine. The day was beautiful. A crisp 60 something degrees in Florida—the kind of day we normal Floridians long for. We’d made it down the first street in our neighborhood when Appa—surprise, surprise—started pulling on his leash. I made him sit to reinforce my command, when suddenly, out of fucking nowhere, three dogs came racing over, barking their heads off. No leashes. No invisible fence to keep them from mauling their neighbors. They circled Batman and Appa, growling and snapping. Even as he yelled at them to leave, I had to clap my hands and try and scare them off. I was pretty ineffective, especially since it took me a minute to realize what was happening. We were walking our dog in our neighborhood. How the hell are we under attack? When I snapped out of it, I tried making as much noise as possible to at least draw their attention away, because Batman was seconds away from killing them.

That’s when the neighbor came running out, apologizing. Oh, and laughing. He was also laughing. I guess to him, watching his three dogs nearly attack my dog and my fiancé is funny. I don’t know. But I’m also not a sick bastard so…

*shrugs*

With the pulling and the possible dog attacks, bringing Appa with us has been shelved again. Probably for a while. But we’ve also blacklisted McDonalds and Burger-King for poor service, and we’ve gone back plenty of times, which says a lot about our diet, but shut up. We’re trying. The topic of bringing Appa with us will come back up, and probably when Batman is in a super good mood. Of if Appa did something good. There will be a right moment, and I will conquer it. But for this time around, we struck out. ☹ Damn neighborhood dogs.

I’m That Weirdo

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Well, I’m sick. And not just in the head this time. But the nose and throat and my eyeballs feel like heavy marbles sitting in their sockets. Does that sound weird? Because that’s what it feels like when you’ve contracted the plague and are DYING. It’s really not the plague. It’s a healthy combination of self-neglect and self-induced stress with a side of erratic weather. I over-worked myself while neglecting to feed myself, and it’s Florida, so I never know what’s going on outside, and I ended up making myself ill. Or “maybe I caught it” for all you non-believers. Either way, my eyeballs seriously feel like marbles and as weird as it sounds, it’s accurate.

*Everything hurts*

I actually called out of work last Thursday. I only brag because I don’t ever call out (even when I am sick) because I’m that weirdo that worries about work when I’m not there. All the emails I’m getting. All the requests and little red flags waiting for me when I sign in again. It drives me nuts, especially when I have vacationed planned. But I’ve worked myself up to those days. I’ve prepped, and put on my out of office so everyone understands the emergency of me not responding to their email ASAP.

But if I call out? (And no, I don’t have one of those jobs where I’m important enough to log into my work email from home.  Separate worlds, my friends.) How will people know? Will it all be okay? Will the world keep from imploding???

Turns out, it will. Friday (only slightly better) I returned to work and found it did not actually crumble. And, had I been playing hooky or doing something that required any amount of intense brain power, I would’ve spent the day wondering about all work coming in, and the guilt over not doing it. But, as it was, Thursday provided very little brain power and I spent it watching Drive and Tangled. And sleeping. A lot of sleeping. This plague has stretched to today with my marble eyeballs and hoarse throat, but hopefully it’s on its way out. Then again, it’s the holidays and we pass that shit around like hot potato, so… who knows?

How do you feel when you miss a day of work? Have you caught any bugs going around, or gave yourself one?

This is What Happens When You Adult

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There’s this hole in the ceiling we’ve been ignoring because 1) it’s easier to ignore things (see recent car-door handle) but mostly 2) energy would be involved. As it turns out, I have an abundance of it, but it’s pretty much all allocated between my job, planning a wedding, striving to *one* day be a best seller, and not go HAM on people when they cut me off in traffic. I have very little mental energy for much more, so, when Batman said we were finally getting that ugly eyesore in the back room taken care of, I was optimistic. Yay for no-more leaking when it rains! Yay for being an adult and not ignoring super important things!

I was not prepared for the destruction:

Luckily, I was not there for most of it. Batman stayed home and sent me picture after gruesome picture of our poor roof slowly being murdered. That was Thursday, and I thought most of it was over (what do I know?) but was delighted to discover the work continued ALL day Saturday, ALL day SUNDAY, ALL day Monday, ALL day Tuesday and…yep. Pretty sure he’s still there. On my roof. Right now. Go google earth it and let me know.

But he’s a one-man crew and it’s a solid gut-job for that small portion of the roof, which means removing the shingles and the insulation and there was plywood involved…I don’t know. Batman explained it to me, but I was half-listening, half-worrying about the creatures that would most likely sneak in and eat me in my sleep. To be fair: there was no actual gaping hole, but for evening night there was only plywood up, and I was able to peek at a few starts whilst standing inside. Magical & creepy 😊

*shrugs*

My favorite part? Realizing Appa is as fucking weird as the rest of us. Or is it stupid?

Whenever Appa wants to play, he stares at his bright orange ball-launcher thingy (used for fetch) which we keep on his towels in “his” basket on the wall. Every time he wants to play, he’ll sit and stare at it. Now that the whole ceiling section is being replaced, we had to move everything on that side of the room, which means his basket is currently on the couch.

YET HE STILL SITS ON THE FLOOR AND STARES AT THE EMPTY WALL.

I’ve walked in on him a few times. I don’t know if he’s confused or too much in a routine to realize the basket isn’t hanging there, but he sit and waits. Staring at nothing. At a blank wall. And I think—*truly* think—I love my dog even more now.

But, yes. This is what happens when you adult. Parts of your roof get demolished and you pray creatures don’t invade in the night and you discover how weird your super smart pets actually are. Anyways, it’s been an interesting week. And a chilly week. It’s November in Florida and I get to wear hoodies. It’s not all bad 😊

How about you? Ever had a roof leak? Or find your animal doing something weird?

Good Times and Pinched Skin

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Raise your hand if you’re dumb.

*raises hand*

If you’ve read this blog for even the last few weeks, you’ll know my level of intelligence rests somewhere around not knowing which knob to turn for AC in the car and nearly passing out because of it. It’s also the same intelligence that’s led me into establishments with my clothes on inside-out and mispronouncing *longitude my entire life until Batman looked at me like I had to be joking. But I wasn’t. Because, yeah…I can be dumb.

But this particularly unintelligent moment occurred on Sunday morning after checking the closet for Christmas presents. These were ones I bought, and I wanted to remind myself of the awesome gifts I’ll be giving because yes, I’m that person. Maybe since I was congratulating myself on a job well done, the universe took a moment to slap some humility into me because when I closed the closet door—because I’m dumb—I closed it on my arm.

And it PINCHED THE EVERY-LOVING SHIT OUT OF ME.

It’s one of those closet-bending-doors and my skin got caught at just the right time. I don’t even think I screamed. I gasped, threw my good hand over whatever mutilated stump I had left and held on. Like, I’m either really pain intolerant (despite having four tiny tattoos…) or I’ve just discovered a new physical fear, so, watch out characters! Guess what I’m throwing at you next. You thought tiny spaces, whips and deep-water exploration were bad! Muahaha! But seriously, ouch ☹

Writing:

I’ve been writing the same night in my WIP for a couple of weeks. Mind you, it started at a pre-evening (4-5) timeframe, and is currently pushing past midnight. And my main characters are being invaded, so this battle is taking a while, but I’ve just about reached the part that’s going to ignite the climax and then, the second part of the book will be done!

*wipes brow*

Then the third and final section will remain, and that one will be a beast. I can’t even think about it right now. I’m too focused on my key players and the rough outline in my head of what’s supposed to happen in this second section. I’ve jotted down some notes (as in wrote a brief paragraph at the end of the same work document) and refer to that from time to time. But, it’s how I write all my books, and the process hasn’t let me down yet.

Once I’m finished with the third section (next March/May-ish?) I’ll breathe a brief sigh of relief… and then I’ll have to plunge back into the thing from the start. Round two – in my opinion- is always worse than round one.  But that’s all then. And we’re still here, in the present, and I’m almost finished with section two! Woop! Good times and pinched skin: it’s all I’ve got for you this post.

Until our next Wednesday date 😊

*I’ve been pronouncing it long-di-tude. I kid you not. It’s what I was taught in seventh grade geography and I’ve never questioned it. And yes, I’m from Florida. Not that that has to do with anything.

Write the Books and Find the Readers

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I missed last week because I spent the majority of it re-reading Rozmarie & Josiah. 😊 I know, rude to ditch on our date, but silly me thought I was going to just submit the book to fresh.ink without even looking it over. Rookie mistake. It dawned on me somewhere a few paragraphs in that it was *probably* a good idea to look over the story, and, well, I did.

All last week. I read every day as soon as I got home, and FINALLY on Sunday, I finished the thing. Because, I didn’t just read. I re-edited it as I went, and apparently, I missed some major typos and errors first go around. Am I going to win the contest? Probably not, but that’s okay. It’s slightly more polished, and I’m not so nervous about turning in a total piece of crap to these would-be-potential readers.

Because that’s my goal: FIND THE READERS

That, and write the books. But I feel both are equally important. Write the books and find the readers. Someone want to make me a banner I can hang above my window? I only have broken Christmas lights and an awesome writing picture my mom got me last year  (thanks, ma! Still love it!). For all the curious/stalkers:

There’s a perfectly good blank space right there. I could put a big plaque: Write the Books and Find the Readers. I feel like that’s all I need in order to break free from cubicle hell to write independently. A product I turn out to customers eagerly awaiting it. Speaking of…I really need to get back to MailChimp and figure out the whole newsletter thing. Where is my team of smart people to do this for me? Urrg. I wish parts of my brain weren’t so dumb, like the kind that deals with technology and understanding things that can’t be explained to a ten-year-old.

In better, simpler, easier news, I have a driver’s-side door handle! Look at it! Look at it in all its glory and magnificent awe:

It’s been very nice these few rainy days not having to run around the car like an idiot. I can go straight to one side and only be half-soaked instead of fully-soaked. Life is good 😊 I really do need to retire Georgie at some point, but until she completely craps out on me, she’s still my girl. And with her latest upgrade, I think she’s earned herself another year or so. That, or until something else vital falls off, or she retires to her days of seizuring which, if I’m being honest, are the most exciting.

Things to do:

  • Research Mailchimp. Again. Don’t get confused and distracted and decide no one cares so it’s not even worth it. And stop playing on your phone.
  • Be more social (stalk more) and keep putting my stuff out there.
  • Probably buy another car
  • Laundry

There’s more to the list, but I’m tired, so this will have to do. Back to writing RTD and reading other people’s books. And guys, I can FINALLY say I feel like I’ve tipped past the halfway point in RTD. I think I said this a while ago, but I mean it for realizes this time. And that means good things are coming. Good things 😊

Have a great week!

Makes Me Wonder

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I’m getting a car door handle!

I’m really stoked because this climbing in-thing was old DAY ONE, and my right thumb has been annoyingly hurting from having to push open the door twice a day. Batman says I’m being lazy and to use my other hand, but I tell him to SHUT UP because I have to climb in through the passenger side to open my driver’s side to then climb back out and walk around while he has the luxury of just stepping in. I’m not being lazy. I’m being punished. For being a terrible driver and maybe cutting off people when I shouldn’t have. Or, I angered the car gods, but I did that a long time ago. I should’ve known when the rear-view mirror fell off mid-drive. Why are parts of my cars falling off? Is it because they’ve all been old, or am I a human car-leper virus?

Anyway, I’m excited 😊 Honestly, I need a new car. The only reason I have this 2005 beauty is because I was t-boned in 2009, and she was my replacement. Sure, she’s shut-down on me multiple times and yeah, occasionally…I’ve wondered if she might blow up, but we’re both still here. She just keeps going. Still, I need to get somewhat of a more reliable ride and (I’ve said this before but it merits repeating) until riding unicorns or llamas or ostriches become socially acceptable ways to travel to work, a new vehicle it is.

So, why wait?

Heh.

Well, Georgie is still technically running. (Yes, that’s her name. Shut up). I’ve had her since 2009, so it’s been a decade with the old girl, and we’ve shared a lot of memories. Plus, she’s the first SUV I’ve had, and the fact that she hasn’t given up makes me wonder how much life she’s got left. I could still squeeze out a few more years from her. Also, cars are expensive.

There’s this really big thing happening next November—some are calling it the event of the century—and I kind of need to funnel all my money there, and having a new monthly payment would cut into that. Pretty much reason number two old Georgie isn’t facing the chopping block. But again, NEW DOOR HANDLE GUYS 😊 She’ll be a spring chicken again. That part at least.

In other news, Artemis is still alive, and Batman and I received our save the dates in the mail! A THOUSAND smiley faces!!!

I’d show them – I kind of want to – but the whole privacy thing is kind of a big deal with us. Especially Batman. Hence I refer to him as Batman on this blog (his request) and he doesn’t even like when I put up pictures of him. So, to respect his/our privacy, I will simply leave you with this:

They’re awesome and I love them.

I’m going to keep Artemis alive. Because look, look at that leaf growth! :

She’s thriving my friends, thriving. The next part is planting her, which I have no idea how to do. I’m told it’s simple, but I can over complicate things, and I would *really* hate to be the reason she died during transportation. So I’m going to make Batman do it.

Remember, when you read next week’s post, it will be written by a person with a driver’s side door handle. I will be one of you all again.

Enjoy your week!

Writing For My Readers

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I was going to write a prequel short story for the fresh.ink thing I talked about last post. Since I’m working on the last book in my series, I figured a good prequel piece might be a nice segway into the series for new readers. I got a few paragraphs in and decided…nope. Ain’t nothing short story about it.

I always intended to write Sampson as a separate full novel prequel, but it’s going to take time. More time than a month to write, edit, rewrite, reedit and then rewrite and reedit again. Plus, I’m looking to gain fans (not the prize, though that’d be nice) and I don’t want to offer something slapped together. (Boo!) So, after much debate while staring at my cubicle wall, I think I’m going to submit something else. Is it a winning entry? Probably not. But I worked on it for over a year, I like the characters, I like the story, and it speaks to my interests: fantasy, romance, suspense, and high stakes. So, I’m going to submit my fantasy YA romance: Rozmarie & Josiah.

This is the WIP I pitched at the Writers Digest Conference in 2015. Spoiler alert: I did not score an agent or publisher with this book. But that’s okay. As I’ve learned (and have to continue learning) the goal is not to score representation. The goal is get an audience. Find my readers. Find my reading tribe, because that’s the point of an agent/publisher. Distribution. I’m terrible at it which is why I’m terrible at self-publishing, but as long as I remember what I really need to be doing, maybe I won’t feel like I’m banging my head against a wall over and over.

I’m writing for my readers. I’m writing for my readers.

Just need to find them…

In other news, I have an avocado plant! And it’s STILL alive! Everyone, meet Artemis:

Artemis comes to us from Batman’s mom, who has five or six herself. After admiring them, I was offered one (even though I have a famously black thumb) and some four/five weeks later, she’s still growing strong. Because I don’t want the Happening to happen, I talk to Artemis, sing to her a little and compliment her leaf growth. The goal is to keep her alive. And maybe, seven years from now, she’ll gift me with an avocado 😊

Alright, off to go write…or read…or play with Appa…or sing to Artemis…or binge watch Big Mouth on Netflix. Or all of the above. The thrills never stop over here.

Enjoy your week!

Batman’s On Board With This

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I’m officially 34.

I made it, guys. I made it. I know a lot of you thought I might’ve walked in front of something or off of something or between two somethings by now but BWHAHAHA in your face! I haven’t. Not yet. It’s coming, but I’m 34 going strong! It feels a lot like 33 and 32 and even 31… NOT 30. At 30, I felt shitty. I felt all the guilt of reaching a milestone-age and not reaching any major milestones (still kinda do). Also, the Firehouse guy gave my sandwich to the wrong person on the big day ☹

Now I’m in my “mid-thirties” and still feel pretty much the same. I have no clue what I’m doing with my life (yay!) but at least Batman and I are making this thing legal, so my non-directional dayjobness will be his problem too. So will my student debt. Haha, sucka! But that’s on him. He asked. I said yes. It’s a done deal. The dress has been purchased, and there’s no going back now, especially since we’ve spent the last twelve years together. We’re here. We’ve made it. We’re doing this thing. Plus, he’s deadest on the honeymoon. Now that he’s knows we’re seeing the USS Arizona and USS Missouri, there’s no way this wedding is *not* happening (we’re honeymooning in Ohau…not some weird ship graveyard…just want that clarified.)

I will say, Batman (like so many of you) has been a champion of mine. Occasionally, when I’m lurking in Facebook writing groups, I come across a rant that someone’s family or partner doesn’t support their writing, or makes them feel like their passion is their hobby. It sucks reading those. It makes me want to jump through their screen and hug them because it IS important and their writing DOES matter. But I never feel like that. Batman has never made me feel low for living the dayjob—writing-night lifestyle, especially since the latter generates zero revenue. But it’s okay. It’s what I want to do with my life. Plus, it’s this or the lottery to get us into our fancy castle-mansion, and we don’t even play. So, maybe if I could get smart with marketing my books and doing this whole indie author thing, I might become a self-made billionaire. It could totally happen, so Batman’s on board with this plan too. We could get to our castle-mansion via my writing. It’s possible.

Just need my big break, guys. 😊

(or a little break. I’ll take what I can get)

But until then, it’s the non-directional dayjobness until I figure something out. Or win the lottery. Or discover a royal relative in Genovia. I’m sure I must be related to someone famous… Come on, I’m 34…they should’ve found me by now. Well, maybe 35 is my lucky year. Guess we’ll see. Either way, Batman is along for the ride, so at least we’ll figure it out together. (Insert sappy music)

Oh, and before I forget…

What does a caped crusader get his blushing 34 year old fiancé for her birthday:

YES. A Giant plush smiling vagina. Compliments of iheartguts. No, this isn’t derogatory or rude or anything like that. This is something we both chuckled over and something I’d said I wanted. This is love. (Insert Sweet music)

I Just Wanted My Free Cupcake, Guys

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I didn’t know what to write last week.

I figured no post was better than five paragraphs of ramblings about makeup research or Pintrest fails or the fact that I still have to climb into my car every day. I guess no news is good news, but it’s boring news, and not worth-writing-about-news which isn’t stellar when you want to do that for a living.

*Sigh*

So, in addition to the nothing listed above, one of my bridesmaids and I did attend the Bridal Premier Expo on Sunday. Just so you understand, this is the opposite type of event for introverts who are passive-aggressive and don’t like confrontation. It’s a madhouse. A legit madhouse. And yet, I knowingly entered the lion’s den. Again.

Batman and I went earlier this  year, because, you know, we had to start on recon for the wedding. Everyone was IN MY FACE then, but it was mixed with excitement and fun because it was the first wedding thing we did, we didn’t know what to expect, and we needed the info. Now that all of our vendors are (mostly) booked, it’s not the same. It’s especially not the same since the second I walked in, two Prudential sales people hounded me about what I would do financially if Batman died. THEY HAD ME THINKING ABOUT BATMAN’S UNTIMELY DEATH. First booth in. I’m not supposed to think about that for a few years, when I get sick of his crap and decide to murder him for his money. And here they are, right out of the gate, asking me in front of everyone while I sip my overpriced mimosa. Rude.

I’d like to say it got better after that, but that’s only because miss awesome bridesmaid and I scored free food from a couple of the food vendors. But in order to get to them, we didn’t look anyone in the eye, and even that tactic didn’t work. THEY STILL FLAGGED ME DOWN. I nodded, pretended I was interested, falsely promised to return after we hit the perimeter and kept going—only to be accosted two booths down. I just wanted my free cupcake, guys.

Besides some much-needed girl-time, the only *real* reason we went to the expo was to do double recon on the DJ I hired, since I made a novice move and hired him without a face to face. I know. Stupid me. And when my wedding planner and venue said they never heard of him (and made the face like wtf is he?), I thought, well…shit. I fucked up. But I didn’t! 😊 Not only does he and the company exist, they were playing some kickass music. *Swipes brow* crisis averted.

But this expo…it’s like a car sale on ‘roids—except it’s for things you think you like (flowers and dresses and pretty table settings) but it’s scary and intimidating and makes you wish people would calm down because no, not everyone wants to sign up for a free trip to Sandals or hear their twenty minute spiel about what makes their company so great. We only stayed for a little over an hour, just to validate my DJ (check!) so now I can set my worrisome eyes to something else in the future wedding forecast.

Moral of the post? I’m not sure. Have face-to-face conversations with your vendors and prepare for battle when you enter a bridal expo. It usually helps if you have liquor in hand. For courage, and as a weapon. Trust me.