The Black Crowes and Teardrops

I don’t know why I’m even crying, I guess just too much has built up. I’m texting my best friend and trying to set up some girl time but that isn’t going to help. Pressure needs to be released before I explode and take someone or something out.

Today sucked, and it started sucking early, like before the alarm went off. Pre-Sunrise Suckage is a “Special Reserve” kind of beverage that leaves the shittiest taste in one’s mouth.

I have probably written 4000 or so words about it, the incident, the bitching complaining and moaning and even got the starter for a new story out of it, but that whole shit-tasting aspect leaves me in dire need to cleanse not only my proverbial pallet but my mood and gray matter from the more morose thoughts and tortures that I have imagined extracting on those that brought out the Temperamenta Fuerte.

I am in danger of breaking a Blackberry, firing an employee, disowning a family member or worse a combination of all three today. I need to just state for all of mankind, if I hang up on you, thank your lucky stars. I find that is much easier to come back from than verbally eviscerating someone via AT&T’s 4G network.

I can’t change other people, I can only change myself but I can’t change my DNA, my ancestry or the way I was raised. My hair will always have a red-tint to it, unless Ms. Clariol or someone else has a hand in it, my Irish and Native American blood will always be quick to boil and my expectations for people to do as they should and not as they prefer will always be there.

I may be naive but at least I have a set of lungs on me that you can hear my thoughts and a few frills and dressing over the rumble of today’s preferred mediocrity and the baah’ing of today’s mindless sheeple.

Is this where I should say I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore? Well, unfortunately, that is probably a lie. I will end up taking it and I just hope it isn’t up the ass without lube, but I won’t have to like it.

When my mom died, I thought that I was lost and adrift and I would never find the shore. Now over ten years later, I know that if I hug the shore I’m more likely to bash my head against immoveable objects or worse, give up on sailing into happily ever after and sit on the shore and wave as everyone else travels. Older me, hopefully wiser me, has to learn that I need to go with the flow, paddle like mad when the time is right and to not waste too much energy fighting the rip-tides in life and as Dory says, just keep swimming, even if it is perpendicularly, till the time is right to make my move.

Who knew Disney could do more than market to the childhood masses?

Listening To: Seeing Things-The Black Crowes                                                                                   Mood: Muddled


TammyJo’s Dad

The following is a rough workup of TXWulf’s background.  It has changed over the almost two years that TammyJo has been alive in my head and just recently went through another change.  Most of the details have been set from the beginning and it only needs smoothing but since one of my goals was for the development of TJ as a character, I decided to break this background out and rely on my Type A personality to force me in to finally finishing it sometime this century. LOL Enjoy!


Thomas Xavier is an alpha werewolf. His father was raised in a family of prosperity but little power until the great depression. While his family’s pack suffered along side the rest of the world TX’s ancestor came in to power with promises to help the pack survive while money was so tight. By the time TX was a teenager his family owned one of the largest farms specializing in fresh produce. Selling on a larger scale allowed the pack to earn more rations of what they needed and assured that it’s members would never go hungry. Grandfather Wulf built upon the family and pack fortunes with investment in commodities and Texas-based industries so by the time TX came along the family coffers as well as the packs were well stocked and the legacy of the Wulf’s being alpha seemed to be secured. That wasn’t enough for George Washington Wulf. He wanted to increase the ranks of the pack insuring that they were more of a contender in the land they shared with other packs. In doing this he instituted numerous breedings, forbade mating for life except for the wolves who already were and he himself took several women into his home, only settling upon marriage when he was certain a woman carried his son in her womb.

TX grew up watching his mother deal with her husband’s infidelities to their marriage and seeing long time pack members leave the pure red wolf pack to join a much more open and inclusive mixed pack. He was determined to go back to a time where the pack held respect and promise to others but was caught up in the status quo until he came to power. Once TX became alpha he met Lila who he later made his wife and treated her like a queen and equal.

TX chose to increase the pack by adopting children and taking in strays and lone wolves if they could tie their bloodlines to Red wolves in any way. His wife delivered to him a healthy daughter and while he never hid what he was, he tried to keep his family grounded and centered while living a quiet life in small town politics.

His family and pack life seemed perfect until the leader of a band of clanless wolves decided to take a shining to his daughter Tammy Jo. TX objected to losing any of his females who weren’t willing to go and join another pack, let alone his daughter. One night coming from a political rally where TX announced his intention to run for a larger state office, TammyJo was attacked and kidnapped by the rogue pack. TX immediately went to an enemy he never thought he would align himself with, one of the most powerful vampires in Texas. In return for TammyJo’s return and placement into a life that would give her protection from the likes of those who kidnapped her TX had to go farther into politics than his small town and state aspirations. TX agreed, as if he had a choice, and so began a long road that finally ended up in the US Senate. His platform was white bread, middle America, anti-anything that was out of place in a white picket fence world all the while working behind the scenes to make sure that vampire rights were not derailed. More importantly, his cover kept him in the loop and associated with the real power behind the anti-vampire lobby who would turn into the anti-were lobby as soon as they went public. TX found himself in the know and as such, the vampires and the weres knew the true enemy they faced.

5 Favorite Places to Write

It is a Theme Day for the Blogathon. Today’s topic is our five favorite places to write. As you read just realize I fully admit to being weird, but I’m happy weird and hopefully you’ll be able to tell that as well.  Just remember85-90% of my writing is done on my Blackberry so some of these places are as awkward as you think. :0)

My truck

Well, my truck when I’m sitting in it just outside of my house. I love writing during those glorious minutes while the vehicle stays warm or cool after it has been shut off. The radio plays for a time, I’m alone and safe in my steel and glass bubble. I can smell the leather interior and have a view of the world. Its different than looking out of the windows in the house, it feels like I’m a part of it, even though I’m encased in my bubble. Still I know all I have to do is open the door and I’m there.

My bed

I’m not talking piled up on pillows with a laptop in my lap or in front of me, even though I do that sometimes too. No, I am dressed or undressed for bed, laying on my stomach snuggled under the covers and tapping words out of my blackberry. I know when I take my medicine at night I have a limited amount of time before it puts me to sleep so I take advantage of it.

My patio furniture

It doesn’t matter if I’m on the porch or in the yard, it is just something about being outside. The hummingbirds come up and chat in the summer, there is at least one dog on my foot or in my lap and sometime the jackasses come for a visit. Despite all of the company I’m alone with my feelings and in my mind. If my phone rings I can ignore it and there isn’t anything inside that distracts me with needing to be done.

My bathroom

Don’t give me that look! It’s not like that. That ‘area’ that you’re thinking of is walled off in my bathroom. I have a tub area and then a dressing area with a built in vanity. Sometimes I run a huge bubble bath and soak in it and pick up my blackberry to write. Sometimes I sit at the vanity and write while a mint julep mask sets and dries. I just tend to multitask and I see writing as ‘Me Time’ so I take it where I can.

Beside my timer

Between being taught to teach writing by someone schooled in The New Jersey Writing Project in Texas style (now Abydos Learning International) and my Flylady days this device seems to be a constant in my life for the last ten years. I set the timer for 5 or 10 minutes and just start to write. I may be jotting things for ideas to write later or writing an anger/rant session so I don’t say it out loud. There is just something about sitting down and letting it all hang out for that certain amount of time. I rarely write past the timer, if so it is just enough to remind me where I am for the next time I pick the piece up.

(This blogathon has made me think of that more and more often, especially when I see all of the ‘be’ verbs I use. It may be time to fight the spiders and find those old books and notes…shh don’t tell The Flylady. lol)

Utilizing Unique Tools in Writing

I’m one of those people who tries to visualize what I write, I want to hear the music, smell the smells and try to imagine what the character is wearing and how it might affect how they move. I’ve read lots about authors who use character boards to cut out pictures and ideas that help them describe their characters better and I do that in my way. My characters have playlists of music I write to on Itunes and certain things that they drink that I tend to drink while writing for them but I use another tool that may be as much for me as for the stories. Come on, how often do you get to pick out a Herve Leger dress, a Nancy Gonzales bag, Reed Krakoff sandals or Pavé earrings from your closet. I know that stuff isn’t in mine anyway.

My friend Brandee says that I write in a stream of consciousness, that she can hear the laughter, see the food and that it hits all of her senses. I love her dearly but realize she might be a slightly biased reader, still I hope that this is the case; it is what I’m going for anyway.

Attached you will find a picture of the outfit described above. This is what my character TammyJo wore the night of her birthday date with Roman. The interaction and play between the characters is being written and will be posted soon.

I urge you to check out and see what it has to offer and figure out if it could help you in your writing. I feel like it helps me in mine if in no other way than to kill time till the muse catches up.

Halfway Through and the Problem with Writing

I love writing but over the course of this Blogathon I have noticed something, life is getting in the way. Originally I started writing this blog at 8 o’clock and now it is getting close to 10:30 and I was at 405 words before I gave up the ghost. Tomorrow is a farm sell-off day for me. My day will start at 4:00 am and go until about this time tomorrow with very little downtime in between. All a part of being a farm girl I guess but halfway through this challenge I would have thought I would have done more development and have a higher word count. I’m worried about what to post tomorrow and when I’ll find time to write it. I guess I’ll just have to hope inspiration strikes, and while I’m at it here’s hoping I have a stronger showing in the second half.

Dead Moms Club

Sounds macabre doesn’t it?  It is crazy to say it is simultaneous the best and worst club I have ever belonged to. Worst because the membership requirements are pretty obvious, but the best because you don’t feel alone anymore.
I love Grey’s Anatomy, and I can remember the show when George’s father died and Christina welcomed him in to the Dead Fathers Club. I can remember getting it and not understanding what the outrage was other people felt. Of course I didn’t get THAT club, because my father was very much alive, but I did get “it” because I had been a member of the mom version for what felt like eternity.

I remember during all the coverage of the Royal wedding and they talked about how William still felt the loss of his mother on Mother’s Day, still had such an ability to sway his mood and they were shocked. I wasn’t, that is me as well, 10 years, 20 years who knows, maybe it will change if I have kids of my own, then again it may never change. Still I know, I have a close group of friends beside be ready for hugs and comfort when something happens and I want my mom.

I was fairly young when I lost my mom. I had graduated college, gotten my first “real” job and was on the verge of moving in my first house when she got sick. (Actually she went in to see the doctor the day after I moved my stuff.)

In the months to come would be highs and lows and emotional roller coasters that would make any soap opera proud, but it was my life. I was lucky, I had 2 very good friends whom I worked with standing by my side but they hadn’t been though it, not yet. In the next 6 months one would lose her elderly mother, one would lose her father and we would start a missing parents club complete with things to pick one or the other up occasionally and lunches where we could commiserate without feeling judged.

Within a year my best friend of 20 years joined the DMC, Martha was an adopted mom to me as well, luckily she and my mom conspired in heaven on what would see their two daughters through this, and after much trying and a couple of miscarriages, my BFF was pregnant.

Aside from the obvious joy and delight the news brought, it also came with sadness. Neither of our mothers would see this child, wouldn’t hold her or spoil her rotten.  Dawn went through a time of immense guilt, she felt that her mother’s aneurism was exacerbated by her working extra long hours after she recovered from her latest miscarriage. I can remember holding her while she cried and my tears joined hers. Despite the doctors warnings and cautions one night sadness lead to consoling each other between a husband and a wife and little Martha came to being.

Since the original group began, we have unfortunately welcomed more members to the club, we have tried to make each milestone special, we have carried people when they couldn’t walk themselves and we have survived.

Please don’t think us avoiding commercials, songs and get-togethers during certain times has anything to do with us having a ‘bad’ mother, if anything we’re blessed to have ones who’s memory stays strong and as such, we remember them always, and especially today.

Be Happy, but Be Vigilant

@MeeMawBellefleu Caroline Bellefleur
Turn on @CNN y’all. POTUS don’t go on TV late Sunday night.
18 minutes ago

That was at 9:35pm my time. Something about MeeMaw’s tweet rang true. I immediately picked up the remote and turned from the trash tv I was watching to my favorite cable news outlet. At first they were just talking about when they expected President Obama to cut in and begin his announcement but then they started speculating.

One of the things they came up with, something that would be big enough to break on a Sunday night instead of first thing on Monday morning was the death of Osama Bin Laden. Minutes later one of their senior producers reported that he had confirmed it with multiple sources. Osama Bin Laden had been killed a week ago, they were waiting for DNA results to confirm it before they reported it.

The tears were falling by the time the words Bin Laden is dead.

In another life I was a 3rd grade teacher. Everyone remembers where they were for certain events be them Space Shuttle explosions, Presidential Assassinations or whatnot, well for me, 9-11 is one of those days. We were in a training session at school, cloistered in a room when a kindergarten teacher came in and said that we were under attack. We turned on ABC news in the empty classroom and watched as Peter Jennings started reporting. We saw the second plane hit before it clicked with the producers and on air talent that it happened. Immediately all plans for working on lessons and teaching projects were gone. All of us had the same thought, get back to our kids.

Some well-meaning teacher had turned on the tv in her room wanting to keep abreast of the news but our babies heard it too. The hardest thing I ever had to do was explain to those little faces that sometimes hate corrupts someone so much that they don’t care who they hurt, they want someone to feel as awful as they do.

I guess that is why I feel guilty for the twisted form of joy that fills me. I shouldn’t be happy that someone was killed, I was raised that vengeance isn’t ours to dole out but I’m only human and I’ll have to ask for forgiveness for that later. I don’t think for a minute that this man’s death makes us any more safe or eases the sorrow of the loss of anyone’s loved one, but I know in my heart that there are these young people somewhere that finally feel this monster that has haunted them since they were third graders is finally dead.

Still on the other hand you know that Bin Laden is now a martyr to so many. Without a doubt anyone who was once his enemy will now have to brace for retaliation from his followers.

We’ve been through so much already, mother nature has been enough of a bitch to us lately so the important thing is to be prepared. It is strange that preparing for a natural disaster and a terrorist attack has many of the same components. Don’t let your gas tank go below ½ full, keep cash on hand in case you can’t get to the bank, food/water for at least 3 days, keep all your papers/documents in a safe place and have your prescriptions near by. Don’t let the death of the public face of our enemy lull us into a false sense of security. Our world changed on 9-11 and there is no going back.

Bin Laden may be dead, but we aren’t safer.  We need to remain vigilant.

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