I'm running out of things to talk about. Doesn't seem to matter much since no one reads it anyway. But we do what we must with what we have.
As some of you may know my kids are home this week for spring break. The two school age kids are in high school so you would think keeping them entertained and out of my hair would be a breeze. Well, not so much. Most of their friends went on vacation this week, the others are like us, scattered to the four corners of the city and not close enough for a casual get together. My kids attend a school out of district, one with a better academic program, sort of like a magnet or charter school I guess depending on where you are from. It's a regular high school but with a tremendous gifted program.
Yes my children are gifted. I'm not sure how to explain their gifts since both of them are currently passing a class by the skin of their teeth, but they qualify as gifted none the less. And if you have really smart kids you know one thing. Keeping their little brains occupied is more important than keeping their bodies occupied. Super smart kids are nothing if not creative if left to their own devices. Trouble has a tendency to happen, trouble my simple little brain can scarcely conceive much less achieve. Things get taken apart, and I fear the day something explodes. Really fear it.
Monday we had a sword fighting incident. With tree branches that were so bendy they were almost whip like. There were welts involved, and ants. Not sure how the ants ended up where they did but oh well, I've learned not to ask questions, that way when child services come I can honestly say I had no knowledge of the incident.
Think the tweebs on Kim Possible, or Phineas and Ferb, but without the platypus. We have cats. Cats who know when to run and hide. smart cats. We also have a 4 year old who is smarter and trickier than her older siblings combined. My life is filled with mayhem, madness, and constant snarkiness. My son excels at sarcasm, my middle daughter is learning from the master. The princess well let's just say she can teach sarcasm 101 complete with the eye roll and hip thrust of a master.
I'm out numbered, out brained, out smarted. I'm doomed.
So in an effort to alleviate boredom and facilitate family bonding, we went on an outing to the beach. Decided not to drive all the way down to Gulf Shores, and ended up on the eastern side of Mobile Bay.
Baldwin County is a beautiful county, lots of oaks, beautiful architecture and just a slower pace than in the city. We drove out to the Fairhope Pier which is a huge concrete structure that stretches about a half mile maybe more out into the bay. At the end a blue heron who was obviously not afraid of people put on a show for us. Beautiful bird. HUGE bird. The fisherman tossing it shrimp was probably the reason it didn't come after us.
Next we went over to the little beach area, I know it wasn't sugar white sand and blue green surf but it was nice, and there was a play ground. The water was warm, with plenty of shade and it was just nice.
The big kids, my son is 6'2", so yes when I say big kids I really do mean it, had just as much fun as the little one. Pelicans and ducks swam/floated nearby, we saw no alligators, but all in all I think that was a good thing. McDonald's and chocolate Easter bunnies rounded out the trip. And no one was killed or maimed. I think it was a good day.
Today however, I am staging a first class hide in, in my writer cave. I've had all the fun and games I can stand for one spring break. Oh and did I mention, there is only one month left of school. One month and two days to be exact.
I'm whimpering just thinking about it. Please anyone know of any good summer long camps that takes snarky teens who never have enough to do, and one smart mouthed four year old? Please, just for a couple of months. And then the whole bunch can go back to school in August and I'll still have all of my hair.
Did I mention that my son will be a senior next year, and my youngest will start kindergarten?
No?
I'm sorry I must have somehow blocked that from my future memory of the absurd.
Here's hoping they are all still tired from yesterday. Here's hoping I don't find the four year old on the roof, or the cats...I shudder to think what they would do to the cats if they didn't love them. Here's hoping that we make it through the day with something blowing up, or a trip to the emergency room. Yeah they sort of know me there. Yeah I'm a little afraid too.
Mercy
My Secret Identity is Emjai Colbert
I have another pen name. I've mentioned this once or twice. I have a full length novel with Ellora's Cave new Blush line, of course, it was Cerridwen Press when it was published. And a short novella with Ellora's Cave itself.
I wanted to use the name Mercy for the novella but they wouldn't allow it, I had planned to keep sweet Emjai and naughty Mercy as separate identities. Especially when Mercy took me to the male/male genre.
So, what happened to make me decide to out my other pen name?
Well, I sold what should have been an Emjai book last week and didn't even consider using the name. I am Mercy. Emjai is retired. But that doesn't mean I'm abandoning the work I did as her. I am just as proud of the two books I have at Ellora's Cave as I am of the four new books.
So yeah, I just thought I'd share. I've added an Emjai page over to the right where I've linked to the books. If you liked Double Coverage you'll like both of them. Whew, now that the secret is out, I feel complete somehow.
Yeah I know you've never heard of Emjai Colbert. Well, you have now.
Find my Ellora's Cave books here EMJAI COLBERT or visit my Emjai's Books page for links to each book separately.
Mercy
I wanted to use the name Mercy for the novella but they wouldn't allow it, I had planned to keep sweet Emjai and naughty Mercy as separate identities. Especially when Mercy took me to the male/male genre.
So, what happened to make me decide to out my other pen name?
Well, I sold what should have been an Emjai book last week and didn't even consider using the name. I am Mercy. Emjai is retired. But that doesn't mean I'm abandoning the work I did as her. I am just as proud of the two books I have at Ellora's Cave as I am of the four new books.
So yeah, I just thought I'd share. I've added an Emjai page over to the right where I've linked to the books. If you liked Double Coverage you'll like both of them. Whew, now that the secret is out, I feel complete somehow.
Yeah I know you've never heard of Emjai Colbert. Well, you have now.
Find my Ellora's Cave books here EMJAI COLBERT or visit my Emjai's Books page for links to each book separately.
Mercy
Life's a Beach
Because I'm just the teensiest bit sun burnt from sitting through an outdoor concert. And because here along the Alabama Gulf Coast we are enjoying warm wonderful days filled with blazing hot sunshine. And because I have spring fever. I am declaring it Beach Week.
I grew up in Florida. That other Florida, you know the one that's actually southern. Up north, near the capital, you know Tallahassee? Okay, Panama City. You know where PC is right? Yeah I thought so. That's the area I'm from. Middle of nowhere Florida, just west of Tallahassee and north of Panama City a little south of Alabama.
Every year there is that rite of passage called Spring Break. And every year from the eighth to the twelfth grade, district concert band contest was held in Panama City. During the height of Spring Break. And every year we made the parent free journey from our little backward berg down 231 to Panama City.
A whole bus load of crazy, horny, band geeks. And the college kids driving around us in their convertibles and their Jeeps. Shirts were very frequently optional, and that included the girls. But really that didn't interest me. The hot guys in the back of a pick up truck, or in an open jeep...lord the chaperons were terrified we would tip the bus over as we were all hanging out the windows on one side.
I miss those days. Sometimes I miss being really young and stupid. I never got to be young and stupid. So this is for all of us who grew up too fast. Who were carrying an adult load long before we were old enough to legally drink.
I would say behave, but I'm not sure I can contain myself. Just don't do anything too naughty, 'cuz dude, I don't have enough dough to bail your asses out of jail.
Mercy
I grew up in Florida. That other Florida, you know the one that's actually southern. Up north, near the capital, you know Tallahassee? Okay, Panama City. You know where PC is right? Yeah I thought so. That's the area I'm from. Middle of nowhere Florida, just west of Tallahassee and north of Panama City a little south of Alabama.
Every year there is that rite of passage called Spring Break. And every year from the eighth to the twelfth grade, district concert band contest was held in Panama City. During the height of Spring Break. And every year we made the parent free journey from our little backward berg down 231 to Panama City.
A whole bus load of crazy, horny, band geeks. And the college kids driving around us in their convertibles and their Jeeps. Shirts were very frequently optional, and that included the girls. But really that didn't interest me. The hot guys in the back of a pick up truck, or in an open jeep...lord the chaperons were terrified we would tip the bus over as we were all hanging out the windows on one side.
I miss those days. Sometimes I miss being really young and stupid. I never got to be young and stupid. So this is for all of us who grew up too fast. Who were carrying an adult load long before we were old enough to legally drink.
Mercy
What's hot in sports
Rugby.
Oh Johnjacobjinglehimershcmidt, where the fucking hell has this sport been all my life. I mean seriously. It's football. Sort of. And I love football. But Rugby takes football to a level best described as naughty boys doing naughty things to each other in front of a crowd. It is sports porn.
Like I said it's sort of but not really quite football. There is a ball, and there are men. And they toss this ball, that is sort of shaped liked an American football but it's white and bigger than ours. But they can't throw it forward. They toss it to each other like some weird game of keep away. And they tackle each other and and throw each other on the ground. And they don't wear pads. They wear shorts and tight shirts. And oh my god, is it hot in here?
It's obscene I'm sorry it is. I don't really know much more about it than what I've mentioned above, but you know me, I don't really care. I just like watching the pretty men, and they are all pretty men, wallow on each other. It gives me bad ideas and makes me giggle like a little girl.
So for fabulous hot man Friday I'm going to introduce you to a couple of Rugby hotties. I don't know who they play for and I don't care. You're lucky I paid attention long enough to learn their names.
This lovely gentleman above is Craig Burden. I googled him. That's him with the ball in the team shot. He's South African, plays for the Sharks as a hooker. Oh holy hell. Just kill me now please.
This is Ben Cohen. He's English. And oh my oh my. If I needed any more inspiration to move to the UK this might be it.
Above are some scenes from the sport. Don't know who they are. Just wanted to give you a little taste of the game.
So if our American boys really are locked out and we have no football season this year, now at least you know there is an alternative. If you get European television. Does BBC America carry games? Is it still easy to get an artist visa to Ireland? If so sign me up I'm ready to return to the motherland.
Mercy
Oh Johnjacobjinglehimershcmidt, where the fucking hell has this sport been all my life. I mean seriously. It's football. Sort of. And I love football. But Rugby takes football to a level best described as naughty boys doing naughty things to each other in front of a crowd. It is sports porn.
Like I said it's sort of but not really quite football. There is a ball, and there are men. And they toss this ball, that is sort of shaped liked an American football but it's white and bigger than ours. But they can't throw it forward. They toss it to each other like some weird game of keep away. And they tackle each other and and throw each other on the ground. And they don't wear pads. They wear shorts and tight shirts. And oh my god, is it hot in here?
It's obscene I'm sorry it is. I don't really know much more about it than what I've mentioned above, but you know me, I don't really care. I just like watching the pretty men, and they are all pretty men, wallow on each other. It gives me bad ideas and makes me giggle like a little girl.
So for fabulous hot man Friday I'm going to introduce you to a couple of Rugby hotties. I don't know who they play for and I don't care. You're lucky I paid attention long enough to learn their names.
So if our American boys really are locked out and we have no football season this year, now at least you know there is an alternative. If you get European television. Does BBC America carry games? Is it still easy to get an artist visa to Ireland? If so sign me up I'm ready to return to the motherland.
Mercy
Do you believe in....
life after love????
Sorry for the ear worm.
No, really, do you believe in reincarnation? If so why?
It's not an essay question and I'm not taking a poll.
It's just something that came up on the drive home from the kid's school.
I managed to freak my kids out with my response.
They know I'm a freak but today I think I messed with their heads a little. (more than usual)
You see, not only do I believe in reincarnation. I believe I was reincarnated.
I was a princess in another life...really, a pampered little doll of a tyrannical princess....
Okay, no, just no. I would have slit my wrists if someone tried to put me in all that lace.
For real and for true when I was a kid I had this recurring dream. More like a series of recurring dreams really. All of them the same in detail but different. I dreamed I was a boy which is probably why I thought I was a boy until I was around seven. But what is unusual, I dreamed I was a boy who wore knee pants and brown lace up boots and wool socks when it was cold. When it was warm I went barefoot. I went to school in a white clapboard school house, and played baseball on the dirt playground. There were other activities but playing on the playground stands out most.
When I was 18 the dreams grew in frequency, and in vividness. I never considered them to be nightmares and unlike most of my dreams I always remembered them. I didn't discuss them with anyone because they disturbed me. Late that year I went away to school and one day on the long drive back to school from a weekend at home I just happened to look over just as I drove past a clearing on the interstate. I had to pull off to the side before I freaked completely out. It was the schoolhouse. Sitting just off the main road that ran adjacent to where I was sitting. The same building I'd been dreaming about all my life. I'd never once been to the town. Never drove through it, never. I checked. Believe me I checked.
Over the next few months the dream began to come less and less. I haven't dreamed it since I was 20.
Okay sure, I'm just taking a very over active imagination, which I do have, and running with this insane story. I convinced myself a silly dream could possibly be real. I was a boy sometime in what appears to be the 1930's. Get real.
Sure, I can let that go as wishful thinking I guess. If it weren't for a few other details.
I was born in the middle of the Vietnam War era. In my late teens Hollywood decided it was time to explore that era. Platoon, China Beach, Tour of Duty. I was fascinated with that era. But I was also repulsed at the same time. Angry. I went Hippie. Drew Peace Symbols all over everything and just basically rebelled against nothing.
But what has that got to do with being reincarnated?
Okay, let's go back to when I was 4 and the first time I went to Montgomery, Alabama for my aunt's wedding. There is this bridge leading into the city I don't know where since I've only been there twice. Anyway there is this bridge and as you top the bridge these old buildings come into view. Mama and Daddy were talking about how pretty the view was. And I hit the floor. I couldn't breathe, I was terrified. (What there were no car seats back then). Pitched a fit until we were far away from those buildings. And again when I was 18 and I went to Montgomery for the second time. The complete terror those buildings caused in me. I still remember it. The drive over that bridge topping that bridge and boom utter terror in the form of my first real panic attack.
Sure, but we still don't get it.
Back to when I was 4 again. I went to the big post office in the county seat with Mama to get tax forms I think. The war was still in full swing and there were several young men sitting on a bench beside the military recruitment sign that was always at that post office. I started crying. Clinging to my mother's hand. I knew those boys were waiting for their bus to leave. I knew they would never come back. I cried all the way home. As I grew up I found out that the recruit bus left from the bus station across the street from the post office to go to Montgomery.
Follow me now.
I knew things a child wouldn't know. I knew those boys were going to Vietnam. I believed they would never come home. Because I didn't.
I believed as a child that I went away and never came home from war.
The time line doesn't fit for a boy of the 1930's to serve in Vietnam even in the early days. But it does for Korea. I refuse to watch anything about the Korean Conflict.
I believe the dreams stopped when I was 20 because I had outlived my past life and those memories were no longer something I had to worry about.
So am I loopy? Probably. And I know as a storyteller I can weave events and memories into a nice little blanket to wrap my loopiness up inside. But I didn't. My parents thought I was somehow insane as a child. I was checked for brain damage. I frightened them. You just don't forget that. Anymore than you forget what it feels like to go away and never return, or at least the echo of that memory, of someone else's life.
I still could.
Sorry for the ear worm.
No, really, do you believe in reincarnation? If so why?
It's not an essay question and I'm not taking a poll.
It's just something that came up on the drive home from the kid's school.
I managed to freak my kids out with my response.
They know I'm a freak but today I think I messed with their heads a little. (more than usual)
You see, not only do I believe in reincarnation. I believe I was reincarnated.
I was a princess in another life...really, a pampered little doll of a tyrannical princess....
Okay, no, just no. I would have slit my wrists if someone tried to put me in all that lace.
For real and for true when I was a kid I had this recurring dream. More like a series of recurring dreams really. All of them the same in detail but different. I dreamed I was a boy which is probably why I thought I was a boy until I was around seven. But what is unusual, I dreamed I was a boy who wore knee pants and brown lace up boots and wool socks when it was cold. When it was warm I went barefoot. I went to school in a white clapboard school house, and played baseball on the dirt playground. There were other activities but playing on the playground stands out most.
When I was 18 the dreams grew in frequency, and in vividness. I never considered them to be nightmares and unlike most of my dreams I always remembered them. I didn't discuss them with anyone because they disturbed me. Late that year I went away to school and one day on the long drive back to school from a weekend at home I just happened to look over just as I drove past a clearing on the interstate. I had to pull off to the side before I freaked completely out. It was the schoolhouse. Sitting just off the main road that ran adjacent to where I was sitting. The same building I'd been dreaming about all my life. I'd never once been to the town. Never drove through it, never. I checked. Believe me I checked.
Over the next few months the dream began to come less and less. I haven't dreamed it since I was 20.
Okay sure, I'm just taking a very over active imagination, which I do have, and running with this insane story. I convinced myself a silly dream could possibly be real. I was a boy sometime in what appears to be the 1930's. Get real.
Sure, I can let that go as wishful thinking I guess. If it weren't for a few other details.
I was born in the middle of the Vietnam War era. In my late teens Hollywood decided it was time to explore that era. Platoon, China Beach, Tour of Duty. I was fascinated with that era. But I was also repulsed at the same time. Angry. I went Hippie. Drew Peace Symbols all over everything and just basically rebelled against nothing.
But what has that got to do with being reincarnated?
Okay, let's go back to when I was 4 and the first time I went to Montgomery, Alabama for my aunt's wedding. There is this bridge leading into the city I don't know where since I've only been there twice. Anyway there is this bridge and as you top the bridge these old buildings come into view. Mama and Daddy were talking about how pretty the view was. And I hit the floor. I couldn't breathe, I was terrified. (What there were no car seats back then). Pitched a fit until we were far away from those buildings. And again when I was 18 and I went to Montgomery for the second time. The complete terror those buildings caused in me. I still remember it. The drive over that bridge topping that bridge and boom utter terror in the form of my first real panic attack.
Sure, but we still don't get it.
Back to when I was 4 again. I went to the big post office in the county seat with Mama to get tax forms I think. The war was still in full swing and there were several young men sitting on a bench beside the military recruitment sign that was always at that post office. I started crying. Clinging to my mother's hand. I knew those boys were waiting for their bus to leave. I knew they would never come back. I cried all the way home. As I grew up I found out that the recruit bus left from the bus station across the street from the post office to go to Montgomery.
Follow me now.
I knew things a child wouldn't know. I knew those boys were going to Vietnam. I believed they would never come home. Because I didn't.
I believed as a child that I went away and never came home from war.
The time line doesn't fit for a boy of the 1930's to serve in Vietnam even in the early days. But it does for Korea. I refuse to watch anything about the Korean Conflict.
I believe the dreams stopped when I was 20 because I had outlived my past life and those memories were no longer something I had to worry about.
So am I loopy? Probably. And I know as a storyteller I can weave events and memories into a nice little blanket to wrap my loopiness up inside. But I didn't. My parents thought I was somehow insane as a child. I was checked for brain damage. I frightened them. You just don't forget that. Anymore than you forget what it feels like to go away and never return, or at least the echo of that memory, of someone else's life.
I still could.
Oopsies
I sort of forgot to do a Friday Favorite post for today? Not a joke. Seriously, I'm a smartass not a practical joker. AFD is just one of those days I try not to encourage because I'm just not adept at tricks. If you need snarky, pun laden, sarcastic remarks, then I'm your girl. Anyway, I honestly forgot to write a blog last night.
I blame my husband. He was off work yesterday. And my son. Who has a late night band practice on Thursdays. We eat late on Thursdays, last night a little later than usual. Which means they didn't start the "family" movie until late. Which means I didn't escape in time and got pulled in against my will.
I did not want to watch The A-Team movie. DID NOT WANT!!!!! But I got sucked into it anyway. Damn them and their Bradley Cooper and hot military men. Damn them and their amazing helicopter chase. Damn them for blowing shit up and catching my attention.
For the record this movie was awful, in that way that made it great. It wasn't the television show of my childhood. It was the story of what led up to the television storyline. And shit blew up. Lots of shit. I love when shit blows up. I love when hot men blow shit up.
Yeah I know I am warped in the head.
I do not even like Bradley Cooper, he looks funny, but he was great as Face, and when Dirk Benedict (the original Face and Starbuck for you kids) made his little cameo I was struck with just how much they resembled and how well preserved Dirk is for an old man.
Shit, I didn't mean for this to be a movie review for a movie I didn't want to watch. Sorry, okay so if you are on the fence about this movie or were avoiding it just because you thought it would be another butchered remake, go rent it. Turn the volume up loud. And try to keep up. The jokes fly pretty fast, and the plans are made even faster. I'm not sayin' if they come together in the end.
Oh and one other thing. Brian Bloom! OMFG. I was in love with this guy when I was a teen. He didn't do anything memorable. He showed up in the strangest places. But Tiger Beat loved the fuck out of him and he had a whole wall dedicated to him in my room. Brian Bloom is the reason I have this thing about dark men with iced blue eyes. So you are asking yourself WTF is she going on about? Brian Bloom has a lovely roll in A-Team. He grew up in all the right ways. No longer pretty but still hot in that biker bad boy sort of way. Go google, oh hell I'll do it for you.
Uh, yeah don't go google Brian Bloom, most of his teen pictures are infested with pop up anti-malware crap.
And the one of him kissing another man, damn that one would have been nice to get. Oh well got the heavy duty virus stuff running in the background but I think I'm safe.
So onto the man porn.
Brian Bloom then, in all his 80's yumminess, despite the hair, I mean please it was the 80's hair was a BIG thing back then.
Now from the movie in question
and just because he's so effin hot
It's those damned eyes I tell ya.
Happy weekend,
Mercy
I blame my husband. He was off work yesterday. And my son. Who has a late night band practice on Thursdays. We eat late on Thursdays, last night a little later than usual. Which means they didn't start the "family" movie until late. Which means I didn't escape in time and got pulled in against my will.
I did not want to watch The A-Team movie. DID NOT WANT!!!!! But I got sucked into it anyway. Damn them and their Bradley Cooper and hot military men. Damn them and their amazing helicopter chase. Damn them for blowing shit up and catching my attention.
For the record this movie was awful, in that way that made it great. It wasn't the television show of my childhood. It was the story of what led up to the television storyline. And shit blew up. Lots of shit. I love when shit blows up. I love when hot men blow shit up.
Yeah I know I am warped in the head.
I do not even like Bradley Cooper, he looks funny, but he was great as Face, and when Dirk Benedict (the original Face and Starbuck for you kids) made his little cameo I was struck with just how much they resembled and how well preserved Dirk is for an old man.
Shit, I didn't mean for this to be a movie review for a movie I didn't want to watch. Sorry, okay so if you are on the fence about this movie or were avoiding it just because you thought it would be another butchered remake, go rent it. Turn the volume up loud. And try to keep up. The jokes fly pretty fast, and the plans are made even faster. I'm not sayin' if they come together in the end.
Oh and one other thing. Brian Bloom! OMFG. I was in love with this guy when I was a teen. He didn't do anything memorable. He showed up in the strangest places. But Tiger Beat loved the fuck out of him and he had a whole wall dedicated to him in my room. Brian Bloom is the reason I have this thing about dark men with iced blue eyes. So you are asking yourself WTF is she going on about? Brian Bloom has a lovely roll in A-Team. He grew up in all the right ways. No longer pretty but still hot in that biker bad boy sort of way. Go google, oh hell I'll do it for you.
Uh, yeah don't go google Brian Bloom, most of his teen pictures are infested with pop up anti-malware crap.
And the one of him kissing another man, damn that one would have been nice to get. Oh well got the heavy duty virus stuff running in the background but I think I'm safe.
So onto the man porn.
Brian Bloom then, in all his 80's yumminess, despite the hair, I mean please it was the 80's hair was a BIG thing back then.
Happy weekend,
Mercy
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