Monday, September 30, 2013
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Image from Pinterest
If art were a man I might not love him as much. I love art for art's sake! I spent the morning on Pinterest gathering photos that inspire me. The gem above came from Pinterest. I started collecting Christmas ideas. Decorating ideas for the holidays so I can plan my own Merry Little Christmas. The fact I am excited about the holidays in September tells me I am happy. The things I used to do when it was 'we' not just 'me' sometimes brought back too many memories. Now I am back to the things I love. Art has always made me a dreamer, a doer, a shape shifter of my own kind. My vision of what is art changes hourly. To me art is life, my life, creating what makes me happy and whole, and hopefully sharing it with others who will enjoy the beauty of art as much as I do.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
My dog has fleas. I'd like to be able to use that phrase. But I have six dogs - and all six dogs have fleas. So the correct statement would be my dogs have fleas. I go to sleep listening to the scratching sound of six dogs scratching fleas. I wake up to dogs scratching fleas. Poor old Annabelle actually cries she is so agitated with her fleas.
If I sing it - will it make it better?
I have been a good dog mom. The trouble as I see it came from several factors converging at the same time. I stopped using Sentinel for dogs - which is a heartworm medicine that also controls fleas. The word shortage comes to mind. I think it was unavailable for awhile. I changed to a lesser heartworm tablet and that would have been the only reason for the change - a shortage of what I normally used. Then we've had rain, rain, rain. Somehow the combination has given me a flea problem - but not of epic proportion. I personally don't have fleas - not yet. Nor have I had a flea bite - it would show. My house is not overrun with fleas - not yet. I don't really see fleas on my dogs - not yet. What I have is constant scratching from six dogs who have at least a flea each. I know, dog people are laughing at me. There is no such thing as one flea on a dog.
My dogs are back on Sentinel. I have also purchased Frontline. And, when Annabelle cries too much, I give her a Capstar for instant flea death. One dog is on an antibiotic for a hot spot from scratching. Annabelle is on prednisone to ease her itch discomfort. It is a fair trade off I think. She didn't scratch last night and I had a good night's sleep. The prednisone made her drink lots of water, so she peed while sleeping on the corner of my bed.
Yes, I know. Yuck. But Annabelle and I slept well. Shut up.
It's not just the scratching. My new shower head has a constant drip.
Drip drip. Drip drip. Drip drip.
How annoying is that?
I tried to tighten it down, but couldn't figure which way to turn it. I didn't want to break my new shower head, so I put on my thinking cap. The cap that was not thinking too well, because of all the scratching and drip drip I've had to endure.
I took my hand towel and wrapped it around the shower head.
No, the shower head continued to drip..drip..drip.
The dogs continue to scratch.
I continue to sing, my dogs have fleas and think about Chinese water torture. I have a call in to my handyman who is currently out of town. Perhaps permanently. He was planning on moving in September.
Then tonight my keys started to stick on my keyboard.
I sent out a Constant Contact e-mail I had been working on for an hour. I promise I hit save, then continue, then mailing list. Somehow, I think the save stuck and I sent out the template. Three hundred and eighty e-mails for an antique open house in Georgia that invited everyone to a wine tasting in California.
It was easy to belt down a glass of wine, get back on Constant Contact, make a new e-mail and resend. I typed in CAPS...E-MAIL CORRECTION. I hope everyone will open the new e-mail unless they are packing for a trip to California.
I swear it was not my fault. I've been listening to scratch, scratch, drip, drip for days. I am not in my right mind.
It makes sense to me. Constant repetitive sounds could cause one to blip out on a Constant Contact e-mail. I think you can agree.
Wishing all who read this a peaceful night. I'd like to sing you a lullaby!
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Graphic from 123RF
I am obsessed with sex at the moment. Sex is on my mind day and night. I wish I could talk to someone about it. No, not a therapist, another writer. I am in the midst of my first work of fiction, an erotic thriller.
I am out of my comfort zone, but learning how to deal with it.
The idea for my book started a year ago. I wrote ten thousand words, then let it alone. I kidded my friends I was writing porn (which is what it seemed like to me) and had started smoking and drinking Jack Black as I sat at the computer at night. I don’t do either, but laughed myself silly with the image in my mind. I wrote a funny article for an on-line site about trying to write erotica. A tongue in cheek piece. I couldn’t decide where to put the tongue in my erotica, so I made a joke of it, got a bit of mileage, and put my story on the back burner until I was mature enough to make it work.
A few months ago I decided it was time to bring the book out of the closet. Sex is integral to the plot (no spoiler here, but trust me, the book would be stupid without sex if you knew the storyline.) But I wanted clean erotica. Now there is a challenge. How to make my book work, make it hot, but just not so graphic it kills the rest of the story.
I feel like a tease on her first date. A virgin trying to lose her virginity. Should I or shouldn’t I?
I read and reread the chapters. I’ve cleaned it up so much I startled myself on the last go-round. Yet I still blush at some of the scenes and wonder where did that come from?
I don’t want sex to drive the story. Yet, without it, there is no story. It is a fun, chick-lit, women’s fiction, semi-erotic tale that runs the gamut from vibrators, farmhouses, antiques, art, roses, hydrangeas, a neurotic dog, fried green tomatoes, and a dash of murder.
A recipe for disaster or a blue ribbon winner?
When I figure out how to make the sex in my book work, I might be ready to date again.