I’m typing this at four o’clock in the morning, and I am awake and mobile at this insane hour to catch an early flight to Houston. It’s my first trip back there since my move west a year and a half ago. I’m going to have dinner with some friends, catch up with an old colleague over lunch, and visit the shops I miss most. I’m also going to be attending not one but two baby showers, celebrating my sister’s birthday (yesterday), celebrating MY birthday (Monday), and doing some mother/daughter/sister bonding.
It’s a lot to cram into five days.
But it’ll be fine. I’ve gotten to a point with my family where I am able to just be who I am, let them be who they are, and not get my knickers in a twist (too much) about any of it. It didn’t used to be that way; spending time with my family, with my mother especially, has been historically difficult. Don’t get me wrong – I love my mother. But we have, in the grand tradition of mothers and daughters the world over, butted heads. A lot.
Mostly because we share a lot of personality traits. We’re both stubborn, we’re both in possession of explosive tempers, and we’re both convinced that we’re right and the rest of the world is full of shit. The trouble is, the way we view the world and our priorities have always been vastly different. The result has been a mother/daughter relationship that has been at times rocky, acrimonious, and during the summer of 1994 (what my mother calls the Summer from Hell), downright hostile.
But something changed in the last few years. Maybe it was because I’ve grown more comfortable and secure in who I am as a person, so I’m less inclined to take offense when someone questions me. Maybe it’s because I finally realized that no matter how misguided she seems to be to me, her words and actions come from love, and a genuine desire to see me happy (just because she has no idea what makes me happy doesn’t negate the good intentions). Maybe it’s because she went through a bout of colon cancer last year, and I realized that I only have one mother. And no matter how crazy I think she is, or how out of touch or annoying I find the things she does, she’s still my mother and I want her around for a long time.
Whatever it was, spending time with Mom is a lot easier these days. Comments or questions that used to piss me off now mostly amuse me. If I do get irritated or frustrated, I’ve learned to step back for a second, remind myself that her opinions or needs don’t have to have an effect on my choices, and it’s fine. Plus my sister is there, and we can meet in the kitchen for a midnight beer (water for her) and kvetch about our crazy mom.
I’m looking forward to it.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Monday, November 9, 2009
To Shop or Not to Shop
Seeing as how I have a book to copy edit this week, I figured that this must be the perfect time for a blog post!
There's quite a lot going on at the moment, really. Aside from the obvious (the book I have to copy edit and the book I have to write), it's hockey season once again (Yay!), my horse and I have entered therapy together (it's a long story), and the holiday season is creeping inexorably closer.
I love the holiday season. I love spending time with my family (even if I have to fly to Tennessee to do it), I love holiday decorations, the smell of pine trees, the sparkle of tinsel. I love holiday baking (though I'm not, interestingly enough, all that eager to eat sweet things...I just like to make them), the scent of roasting turkeys, the tastes of hot cider and warm cocoa. But most of all, I love holiday shopping.
Not the kind of shopping that involves driving to a mall and elbowing my way through teeming crowds of people who manage to take all the joy out of the season with their frantic and single-minded focus on getting the best deals for every item of their lists. That kind of shopping gives me hives and makes me consider if it would really be so bad to live the rest of my life as a hermetic shut-in. I love online shopping. My mouse is my friend. And I love catalog shopping, something that the retailers of this world have long since figured out and decided to exploit to the nth degree. Every day now, the mail contains at least 2 or 3 (sometimes 5 or 6) glossy-paged pamphlets from those persistent purveyors of taunting temptation (hee hee...I love excessive alliteration sometimes).
The catalogs work on me with a sort of hypnotic power. One look, and I get sucked in for hours, flipping slowly past artfully posed photographs of things no one ever actually needs but that I find myself suddenly coveting in a way that I'm certain the Old Testament would have included on those stone tablets if there had been just a bit more forward thinking. And somehow, I always end up finding 2 things that I must have for every 1 item that might make a suitable gift for someone on my list. I'm telling you, I'm weak.
Today, I'm up against a clothing company, the National Geographic store, and Bas Blu--the most fabulous bookseller on the face of the earth.
I'm such a goner.
Worse yet, so is my credit card!
There's quite a lot going on at the moment, really. Aside from the obvious (the book I have to copy edit and the book I have to write), it's hockey season once again (Yay!), my horse and I have entered therapy together (it's a long story), and the holiday season is creeping inexorably closer.
I love the holiday season. I love spending time with my family (even if I have to fly to Tennessee to do it), I love holiday decorations, the smell of pine trees, the sparkle of tinsel. I love holiday baking (though I'm not, interestingly enough, all that eager to eat sweet things...I just like to make them), the scent of roasting turkeys, the tastes of hot cider and warm cocoa. But most of all, I love holiday shopping.
Not the kind of shopping that involves driving to a mall and elbowing my way through teeming crowds of people who manage to take all the joy out of the season with their frantic and single-minded focus on getting the best deals for every item of their lists. That kind of shopping gives me hives and makes me consider if it would really be so bad to live the rest of my life as a hermetic shut-in. I love online shopping. My mouse is my friend. And I love catalog shopping, something that the retailers of this world have long since figured out and decided to exploit to the nth degree. Every day now, the mail contains at least 2 or 3 (sometimes 5 or 6) glossy-paged pamphlets from those persistent purveyors of taunting temptation (hee hee...I love excessive alliteration sometimes).
The catalogs work on me with a sort of hypnotic power. One look, and I get sucked in for hours, flipping slowly past artfully posed photographs of things no one ever actually needs but that I find myself suddenly coveting in a way that I'm certain the Old Testament would have included on those stone tablets if there had been just a bit more forward thinking. And somehow, I always end up finding 2 things that I must have for every 1 item that might make a suitable gift for someone on my list. I'm telling you, I'm weak.
Today, I'm up against a clothing company, the National Geographic store, and Bas Blu--the most fabulous bookseller on the face of the earth.
I'm such a goner.
Worse yet, so is my credit card!
Monday, November 2, 2009
election day
Tomorrow is election day, and I find myself annoyed.
Normally, I love election day. Call me a sentimental, patriotic fool, but I enjoy participating in the democratic process. Going into the booth, punching the little button…I love it. I believe it’s not only my right as an American citizen, but my responsibility, and I never miss an election day.
But now that I live in Washington state…well, I’m just not as enthusiastic about it. Oh, I still care about participating, but the process? Kind of sucks. You see, Washington does everything by mail in ballot, which means about three weeks before election day I get my ballot in the mail. I fill it out using a blue or black pen, seal it in two envelopes, sign one of the envelopes so they can verify my signature. Then I have the choice of mailing it in, dropping it off at the 24/7 drop box located near the election office downtown, or dropping it off on election day at one of several drop locations.
I hate it.
I understand that this method is preferable to a lot of people. Most of the folks I work with find it less disruptive to be able to mail it in or drop it off at their convenience. And apparently long lines at the polls were a problem around here. And of course it saves the county money (or city, or state, or whoever foots the bills for such things), because they have to employ fewer election workers to run and monitor the voting. So I get it. I just hate it.
I want to get in my car, drive to the polls, and do my duty. Putting it in the mail feels…well, not special at all. It feels like paying my electric bill, and that doesn’t make me feel all patriotic and righteous. I much preferred the way they ran things in Texas, with early voting available in most precincts, and an absentee ballot was always an option if you couldn’t – or didn’t want to - go stand in line.
Election day should be special, dammit. Being able to participate in our government, in the in the democratic process, should never be taken for granted or just assumed. So tomorrow, on election day, I will be taking my ballot to the elementary school near my office and handing in my ballot. It’s the closest I can come to punching the button in the booth.
Normally, I love election day. Call me a sentimental, patriotic fool, but I enjoy participating in the democratic process. Going into the booth, punching the little button…I love it. I believe it’s not only my right as an American citizen, but my responsibility, and I never miss an election day.
But now that I live in Washington state…well, I’m just not as enthusiastic about it. Oh, I still care about participating, but the process? Kind of sucks. You see, Washington does everything by mail in ballot, which means about three weeks before election day I get my ballot in the mail. I fill it out using a blue or black pen, seal it in two envelopes, sign one of the envelopes so they can verify my signature. Then I have the choice of mailing it in, dropping it off at the 24/7 drop box located near the election office downtown, or dropping it off on election day at one of several drop locations.
I hate it.
I understand that this method is preferable to a lot of people. Most of the folks I work with find it less disruptive to be able to mail it in or drop it off at their convenience. And apparently long lines at the polls were a problem around here. And of course it saves the county money (or city, or state, or whoever foots the bills for such things), because they have to employ fewer election workers to run and monitor the voting. So I get it. I just hate it.
I want to get in my car, drive to the polls, and do my duty. Putting it in the mail feels…well, not special at all. It feels like paying my electric bill, and that doesn’t make me feel all patriotic and righteous. I much preferred the way they ran things in Texas, with early voting available in most precincts, and an absentee ballot was always an option if you couldn’t – or didn’t want to - go stand in line.
Election day should be special, dammit. Being able to participate in our government, in the in the democratic process, should never be taken for granted or just assumed. So tomorrow, on election day, I will be taking my ballot to the elementary school near my office and handing in my ballot. It’s the closest I can come to punching the button in the booth.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
the deepest cut
If you go to the bio page on my website and look at my photo, you will see that I have long hair. It’s good hair, healthy and strong, and there’s a lot of it, so it looks pretty good long. But it’s basically looked the same for half a dozen years now, and I’m bored with it. So this Saturday, I have an appointment to get it whacked off, and I’m a little nervous.
It’s not like I’ve never had short hair before, it's just been a while. It’s was pixie short right out of college, which didn’t suit my face at all, and in college it was been slightly-longer-than-chin-length short, which did suit my face. That’s what I’m going for this time. But you know, I find myself hesitating, for a couple of reasons.
First: I am not twenty anymore, and my face shape has changed a little bit. Not drastically – it’s not like my jawline is hanging down around my collarbone or anything – but the angles and planes that defined my face in my youth are a little softer now, a little more rounded. And sometimes when I hold my hair up to approximate the length I’m thinking of…well, I’m just not sure. I don’t want this hairstyle to make me look OLDER, for God’s sake, and I’m afraid it will.
So that’s the main reason. Another reason, which isn’t really a reason but more of a point to ponder is…my boyfriend hates the idea.
I know, I know – it’s my hair, and I can do with it what I want. And he is fully aware that any attempt to control my decisions in this area would result in some unfriendly conversation, so he doesn’t go there, and he’s not that guy anyway. But I can tell when I talk about it that he’s not thrilled with the idea. He says things like, “I will support you in this decision,” as though I’m talking about joining the Peace Corps and building roads in Botswana for two years instead of getting a new do.
I think part of it is that he can’t picture me without long hair. We’ve been dating just over a year, and the only picture he’s seen of me with it short is my old passport photo. Which, even without the bad pixie-do is a bad picture. He likes my hair, likes stroking or playing with it, and the idea of it not being there anymore bothers him.
I also think he has the idea that a lot of guys (and girls) have, which is long hair = female = sexy. And there’s something to that, but I don’t think it’s a hard and fast rule. We have a friend who used to have lovely long blond hair that she now wears in a tight little cap that feathers toward her face. She looks absolutely darling, and in some ways even more sexy as her look is more edgy this way. But of course, if I ask my guy if he thinks she looks nice he agrees that she does, then ads, “but her long hair was really pretty”.
In any case, I’m getting my hair cut. It might be a huge mistake, in which case I’ll just hate the way I look for six months while it grows out and my guy will say “I told you so” a lot. Which won’t be pleasant, but it won’t last forever. After all, it’s just hair – not two years in Botswana.
It’s not like I’ve never had short hair before, it's just been a while. It’s was pixie short right out of college, which didn’t suit my face at all, and in college it was been slightly-longer-than-chin-length short, which did suit my face. That’s what I’m going for this time. But you know, I find myself hesitating, for a couple of reasons.
First: I am not twenty anymore, and my face shape has changed a little bit. Not drastically – it’s not like my jawline is hanging down around my collarbone or anything – but the angles and planes that defined my face in my youth are a little softer now, a little more rounded. And sometimes when I hold my hair up to approximate the length I’m thinking of…well, I’m just not sure. I don’t want this hairstyle to make me look OLDER, for God’s sake, and I’m afraid it will.
So that’s the main reason. Another reason, which isn’t really a reason but more of a point to ponder is…my boyfriend hates the idea.
I know, I know – it’s my hair, and I can do with it what I want. And he is fully aware that any attempt to control my decisions in this area would result in some unfriendly conversation, so he doesn’t go there, and he’s not that guy anyway. But I can tell when I talk about it that he’s not thrilled with the idea. He says things like, “I will support you in this decision,” as though I’m talking about joining the Peace Corps and building roads in Botswana for two years instead of getting a new do.
I think part of it is that he can’t picture me without long hair. We’ve been dating just over a year, and the only picture he’s seen of me with it short is my old passport photo. Which, even without the bad pixie-do is a bad picture. He likes my hair, likes stroking or playing with it, and the idea of it not being there anymore bothers him.
I also think he has the idea that a lot of guys (and girls) have, which is long hair = female = sexy. And there’s something to that, but I don’t think it’s a hard and fast rule. We have a friend who used to have lovely long blond hair that she now wears in a tight little cap that feathers toward her face. She looks absolutely darling, and in some ways even more sexy as her look is more edgy this way. But of course, if I ask my guy if he thinks she looks nice he agrees that she does, then ads, “but her long hair was really pretty”.
In any case, I’m getting my hair cut. It might be a huge mistake, in which case I’ll just hate the way I look for six months while it grows out and my guy will say “I told you so” a lot. Which won’t be pleasant, but it won’t last forever. After all, it’s just hair – not two years in Botswana.
Monday, October 19, 2009
scattered
I sat down to blog this morning, then realized I had no idea what i wanted to talk about.
I could talk about my current work in progress, which is clicking right along. Page count is increasing, the mojo is cooking, and I really like how this story is emerging. But other than that, there isn't much to say about it.
I could talk about my weekend, which I spent with my guy. We saw a movie, had dinner with friends, and fell asleep in front of the television, curled up together in his big manly recliner. But as wonderful as that was for me, I'm not sure it qualifies as interesting to you.
I could talk about the upcoming holiday season, and how it's barely the middle of October and already the calendar is filling up. Work parties, various events with friends, family. Christine will be going back to see her family, which means I'll be left with both dogs on my own. It's only fair - I leave my dog with Christine on a fairly regular basis when I travel north to see my fella, and her Levi is a sweet dog. But he's a lot more work than my twelve year old lazy hound dog. But that isn't very interesting either.
So I guess I don't have much to talk about. Thanks for listening!
I could talk about my current work in progress, which is clicking right along. Page count is increasing, the mojo is cooking, and I really like how this story is emerging. But other than that, there isn't much to say about it.
I could talk about my weekend, which I spent with my guy. We saw a movie, had dinner with friends, and fell asleep in front of the television, curled up together in his big manly recliner. But as wonderful as that was for me, I'm not sure it qualifies as interesting to you.
I could talk about the upcoming holiday season, and how it's barely the middle of October and already the calendar is filling up. Work parties, various events with friends, family. Christine will be going back to see her family, which means I'll be left with both dogs on my own. It's only fair - I leave my dog with Christine on a fairly regular basis when I travel north to see my fella, and her Levi is a sweet dog. But he's a lot more work than my twelve year old lazy hound dog. But that isn't very interesting either.
So I guess I don't have much to talk about. Thanks for listening!
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Back from Beyond
Hannah and I had a mah-velous time this past weekend at the Emerald City Writers' Conference, and I even managed to get my speech done before we arrived in Seattle. Not all that much before, but hey, before is before! In point of fact, I finished it in the front seat of the car while Hannah drove, and by the time I closed the laptop, I had five hours to spare!
Once we arrived at the conference hotel and settled into our room, we finished putting together the kick-ass basket we donated to the raffle. Trust me, it was tough to give that thing away--Perrier Jouet champagne, 2 champagne flutes, 500 grams of Leonidas chocolates (which make Godiva look like four-year-old Hersheys), a Sweet Savage Thighs logo mug, delicious bath products from Lavanila, a Kate Spade wallet, and matching sterling silver Tiffany necklace and earrings. We cried a little when the raffle committee took it away.
After that was done, I spent the next few hours with my knees knocking while I waited to make my first public speech since my senior year of high school. Let me just say that high school was a long, loooooonnnnnng time ago. But I managed to deliver the welcoming dinner address without abject humiliation, so that was a win. And to celebrate, we went to the bar and spent a few hours savoring some of the best lemon drops of my experience and some really wonderful company. We met several wonderful writers from as far away as Oklahoma, did an awful lot of laughing, and got to bask in the presence of the always wonderful and enormously witty Cherry Adair.
Saturday and Sunday, we attended workshops and lunches, went out for a fabulous dinner in the Queen Anne area of Seattle, and finally said our goodbyes with every intention of returning to the conference again next year. It is really just that good!
Oh, and before we left, I won an awesome raffle basket (inspiring serious envy in Hannah, despite my promises to share), which was just brilliant, since I can't remember the last time I won anything.
All in all, it was a truly stellar weekend. I have enjoyed every single one of the ECWC weekends I've attended, and I encourage everyone who is able to invest the time and money in this fabulous event!
Once we arrived at the conference hotel and settled into our room, we finished putting together the kick-ass basket we donated to the raffle. Trust me, it was tough to give that thing away--Perrier Jouet champagne, 2 champagne flutes, 500 grams of Leonidas chocolates (which make Godiva look like four-year-old Hersheys), a Sweet Savage Thighs logo mug, delicious bath products from Lavanila, a Kate Spade wallet, and matching sterling silver Tiffany necklace and earrings. We cried a little when the raffle committee took it away.
After that was done, I spent the next few hours with my knees knocking while I waited to make my first public speech since my senior year of high school. Let me just say that high school was a long, loooooonnnnnng time ago. But I managed to deliver the welcoming dinner address without abject humiliation, so that was a win. And to celebrate, we went to the bar and spent a few hours savoring some of the best lemon drops of my experience and some really wonderful company. We met several wonderful writers from as far away as Oklahoma, did an awful lot of laughing, and got to bask in the presence of the always wonderful and enormously witty Cherry Adair.
Saturday and Sunday, we attended workshops and lunches, went out for a fabulous dinner in the Queen Anne area of Seattle, and finally said our goodbyes with every intention of returning to the conference again next year. It is really just that good!
Oh, and before we left, I won an awesome raffle basket (inspiring serious envy in Hannah, despite my promises to share), which was just brilliant, since I can't remember the last time I won anything.
All in all, it was a truly stellar weekend. I have enjoyed every single one of the ECWC weekends I've attended, and I encourage everyone who is able to invest the time and money in this fabulous event!
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
And today, a guest!
Christine and I had a wonderful - and for me, highly productive! - time at the conference last weekend. She's going to tell you all about that tomorrow, I think. But in the meantime, today I have a special guest. My friend Jenna Ives is a wonderful writer, and she's written a little tale that features something that I have a bit of an affection for: bondage. I asked her if she'd talk about it a bit for your enjoyment. So, enjoy!
My sexy new bondage novella, The Initiation Of Isabella, is part of Samhain Publishing’s “Binding Ties” anthology, written especially for those of you who love your romance with a little, um, restraint.
The Initiation of Isabella is a classic case of mistaken identity, which lets my heroine experience some of her wildest sexual fantasies. Here's the premise: Isabella Tallin is trying to join the Sigma Iomega Nu sorority, and thinks she's waiting at the corner of Elm and Main for her mysterious initiation rite to begin. But she can't believe that the rite involves a gorgeous guy in a hot red convertible and being bound, gagged, and blindfolded…or does it? Logan Sommers, meanwhile, can’t believe that the innocent-looking girl waiting for him on the street corner is his mysterious client -- the sexually jaded woman who’s paid his company, Fantasies Fulfilled, to indulge four of her most outrageous fantasies. But the pickup instructions were clear, so he whisks her away for a wickedly sensual night of bondage, punishment, ménage and more! In the end, Isabella finds herself happily initiated by a far different organization than the one she expected. You can read an excerpt of the story at my website www.jennaives.com.
The gorgeous covers for the three different stories in this anthology each center on one
particular bondage element, and mine is the blindfold. A blindfold is a powerful sex toy, because without one’s sense of sight, a person finds their other senses become more heightened, in order to compensate. In this case, Isabella can’t see, only feel what’s happening to her, and her heightened sense of touch lets her more powerfully experience all the delicious things my hero Logan is doing to her naked body. Without sight, the mind is free to conjure up all sorts of yummy sexual possibilities, and we all know that the brain is the biggest sex organ we have! Plus, being blindfolded lets Isabella concentrate not on Logan, but exclusively on his sexual stimuli -- his lips, fingers, tongue, erotic toys, etc -- making her reactions much more honest and personal. And powerful. In this story, she gets to experience four outrageous sexual fantasies that include handcuffs, chains, inventive restraints and a clever whip, but the last fantasy -- being pleasured by three men at the same time -- ensures that she’s in for the most incredible night of her life!
I hope you’ll check out The Initiation of Isabella at http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/the-initiation-of-isabella so you can experience Isabella’s pleasure vicariously
And to celebrate the release of Samhain’s Binding Ties anthology, I’m giving away a sexy Bondage Kit! You can enter by sending an e-mail to: http:// bindingties-subscribe@yahoogroups.com before October 29.
How about you? Ever use a blindfold to help spice up your sex life? Did you enjoy it? Do tell!
The Initiation Of Isabella
By Jenna Ives
By Jenna Ives
My sexy new bondage novella, The Initiation Of Isabella, is part of Samhain Publishing’s “Binding Ties” anthology, written especially for those of you who love your romance with a little, um, restraint.
The Initiation of Isabella is a classic case of mistaken identity, which lets my heroine experience some of her wildest sexual fantasies. Here's the premise: Isabella Tallin is trying to join the Sigma Iomega Nu sorority, and thinks she's waiting at the corner of Elm and Main for her mysterious initiation rite to begin. But she can't believe that the rite involves a gorgeous guy in a hot red convertible and being bound, gagged, and blindfolded…or does it? Logan Sommers, meanwhile, can’t believe that the innocent-looking girl waiting for him on the street corner is his mysterious client -- the sexually jaded woman who’s paid his company, Fantasies Fulfilled, to indulge four of her most outrageous fantasies. But the pickup instructions were clear, so he whisks her away for a wickedly sensual night of bondage, punishment, ménage and more! In the end, Isabella finds herself happily initiated by a far different organization than the one she expected. You can read an excerpt of the story at my website www.jennaives.com.
The gorgeous covers for the three different stories in this anthology each center on one
particular bondage element, and mine is the blindfold. A blindfold is a powerful sex toy, because without one’s sense of sight, a person finds their other senses become more heightened, in order to compensate. In this case, Isabella can’t see, only feel what’s happening to her, and her heightened sense of touch lets her more powerfully experience all the delicious things my hero Logan is doing to her naked body. Without sight, the mind is free to conjure up all sorts of yummy sexual possibilities, and we all know that the brain is the biggest sex organ we have! Plus, being blindfolded lets Isabella concentrate not on Logan, but exclusively on his sexual stimuli -- his lips, fingers, tongue, erotic toys, etc -- making her reactions much more honest and personal. And powerful. In this story, she gets to experience four outrageous sexual fantasies that include handcuffs, chains, inventive restraints and a clever whip, but the last fantasy -- being pleasured by three men at the same time -- ensures that she’s in for the most incredible night of her life!I hope you’ll check out The Initiation of Isabella at http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/the-initiation-of-isabella so you can experience Isabella’s pleasure vicariously
And to celebrate the release of Samhain’s Binding Ties anthology, I’m giving away a sexy Bondage Kit! You can enter by sending an e-mail to: http:// bindingties-subscribe@yahoogroups.com before October 29.
How about you? Ever use a blindfold to help spice up your sex life? Did you enjoy it? Do tell!
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