Category Archives: Bullshit

The #Writer #Sewing

I’m not only an epic procrastinator when it comes to writing, but also when it comes to sewing.

I bought some adorable outdoor fabric last year to re-cover my super old, super skanky outdoor chair cushions. I figured, $50 for fabric sure beat $30 per new cushion. Have sewing machine, will create shit.

And then my big roll of bird fabric sat in my everything closet for 4 seasons…

But, in an effort to clear plates and be uber-productive (sort of), I busted that shit out the other day.



Blurry photo of totally gross cushion I’m rather ashamed to post.



The master at work. Also BIRDS!!!! Note my faithful pin chicken.





Full disclosure: I made one cushion with the birds upright, and then cut my remaining fabric after downing a bottle of Saki, all the while telling myself to be sure not to cut it sideways. Yes, the others are all upside-down (and I now realize there was some drunken photography going on). Also, I miscalculated my yardage and ended up short. I used a red outdoor upholstery fabric I had from a project I did at the Boston house and used it for the back of one cover.

Okay, so I won’t be selling my sewing wares on etsy anytime soon (ever), but you have to admit, they look way better than the originals!




Keeping it Real #amwriting

So, I’m finally nearing the end of my self-edit for Balancing Act. I know I’m suuuuuuper slow, but I like to fool myself into thinking that means it will be better than if I was suuuuuper fast. Right? Here’s to hoping.

Anyway, I’ve been stalled on plans for the next book for a long time now. I’ve got an idea of what will happen–I know Andy’s story fairly well, but this entire time I’ve been dreading writing it because I think it will be hard. Like, really hard. I haven’t been able to plan a love story, because all I can see is darkness. I couldn’t visualize the happy times amid all the issues. Until a few days ago, when I finally got a solid mental picture of my other MC and it all clicked.

I know it will still be hard.

Image courtesy of kangshutters at

Image courtesy of kangshutters at

Andy has baggage, so this book can’t be a walk in the park. I mean, even with that fancy wheeled luggage, he can’t drag it behind him for a stroll around the grounds– not without sore arms and a twinge in his back. Not without mud puddles and dive-bombing pigeons, stray baseballs and rude joggers throwing monkey wrenches at every turn. Hell, I’d just stay home with all my baggage and save myself the trouble.

But it MUST be a walk in the park! It’s a romance, dammit! That’s what I do! No matter how tough my characters have it (and they MUST have it tough, because they are meant to be real–they’re real in my head and I need them real in my readers’ hearts and the only way for that to work is for my guys to bleed), they still deserve the rainbows and cooing doves and ice cream sundaes.

Well, I figured it out (safe for me to say from the only outlining stage). Life isn’t sunshine and roses for any of us, but if we have someone who loves us unconditionally, who wants to make every moment sunbeams and park walks and flowers, well, it will be. Eventually. Certainly some of the time. And hauling all that baggage is easier with an extra set of arms (especially an extremely diesel set of tattooed arms–yes, I’m getting excited about this character. Suffice it to say, I’m having good times on Pinterest fleshing this guy out).

Anyway, all those rough spots will only make the good times better, the rainbows brighter, and the romance sweeter. At least, that’s what I’m banking on.




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Odds and Ends: Cleaning Out My Drawers or Dances with Dildos

I’m not the tidiest person on the planet.

I admit it freely. But once in a while something will happen that makes me “see” my mess, and then I’ll go crazy on it like a Heart song. I don’t think I’m the only one who doesn’t notice fingerprints on the walls and coffee drips down the cabinets on a daily basis. When I eventually do, though, I’m mortified I’ve been oblivious, wallowing in shit for god knows how long, and I go on a scrubbing jag.

Well, my summer clothes are competing with my winter for dresser space and my underwear drawer was so full, it spilled unmentionables down the back insides of the dresser. My hubs had to get a grabby claw thing and pull them out so I could close my drawers again.

Clearly, I’ve been shit wallowing.

So, today I cleaned out my undies drawer. We’ll say nothing of the dishwasher I didn’t finish emptying or the rug that is in dire need of vacuuming or…well, basically any other space in my house. I moved slutty special occasion garments back to their spot in the closet and ditched thongs (condolences to my hubs and congratulations to my ass–I can’t believe I spent the 90’s in those fucking things).

And I found an artifact I’d completely forgotten about.

Enter the crystal dildo:

I shit you not.

I shit you not.

This beauty was a freebie I received for purchasing porn DVDs (and various other…stuff). In fact, I remember making sure I put enough sex accouterments in my cyber cart to ensure I got the glass dildo-to-end-all-dildos.

It’s lovely if not especially titillating. It could pass as a mushroom just as well as a phallus. I suppose the hearts are more than mere decorations as they’re raised for…someone’s pleasure. Shrug. It’s got a solid base so it can stand at attention unassisted or be easily retrieved from tight spaces. It even came in a red velour bag for classy storage (or gift wrap?).

I’ve never done more than hold this delicate masturbatory device up to the light and admire it.

Don’t get me wrong (as if you would)–I thoroughly enjoy my sextras. Just moments ago I sighed in fond memory as I stuck my crotchless panties right back into heavy rotation.

But, honestly, the glass dildo doesn’t make me want to abuse myself (or others). It’s like a stunning work of art.

That doesn’t vibrate.

It belongs in a china cabinet, not a vagina cabinet (sorry, I had to).

So that’s where I put it:

20151015_135012Right next to the shot glasses my Swedish buddy gave us for a wedding present, standing sentinel before the ugly Irish marriage blessing plate, and flouting the fancy-shmancy toasting flutes we were gifted on our special day.

Hey, why not a crystal dildo to celebrate the sacred covenant of marriage? Seems like the luckiest keepsake there (besides the shot glasses, of course).

Yup. I’m totally leaving it. Twenty bucks says no one notices and I eventually smash it reaching for a martini glass.

Okay. I'll tuck it behind this big soup tureen thingy that gets just as much action in case my MIL comes over.

Okay. I’ll tuck it behind this ridiculous soup tureen that gets just as much action. You know, in case my MIL visits.


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