My House Is a Very Very Very Fine House

* *P O E T R Y* *
W E D N E S D A Y


I look around and cannot believe
That soon your love and care we will leave
Even though moving on is considered achievement
I'm sad and I'm lost, almost to bereavement

Your first sight created such awe-struck feelings
We laid in each room looking up at your ceilings
We marveled at how your brick fireplace was massive
Your wood beams and picture-frame panelling, impressive

Shocked that we'd qualify for such a nice home
We couldn't wait to sign on the line for the loan
They gave us the key and we moved to your street
And for 22 years you have laid at our feet

You cradled our babies in the warmth of your arms
You kept us safe from the hail and the storms
You gave us light when the darkness descended
You kept us entertained till the evenings ended

You witnessed us argue and agonize and fight
We slammed all your doors but your timbers held tight
You saw every party from birthday and Christmas
To New Years and Easter, not a moment you missed us

Your foundation steadfast, you made us feel safe
From the roof overhead to the lock at the gate
Even after the French door, the hot tub and pool
You've given us much more than we've given you

As we take our last step outside your front door
My sadness will seep into my very core
Our hearts will be with you even after we move
From our little house on Daybreak to the house with the view

We're Movin' On Up

You don't realize what a piece of crap you live in until you decide to sell the place. Looking at the house through a buyer's eyes is pretty scary...

Yes, that's right. We've decided after 22 years to get a bigger house in a better location. But until we decide exactly what and where--we're preparing our house to put on the market.

It's not in that bad of shape...it just needs some little touches here and there (like new doors and windows). The rest of the stuff (floors, bathrooms, roof) have been replaced within the last couple of years--not to mention the 4 year old pool and spa which I understand from the realtor doesn't really add to the value of your home...it's just a $40,000 bonus to the new owners...lucky them! (Do I sound bitter?)

Anyway, although I feel moving is the right decision, it makes me sad fixing up our home to near-perfect condition for someone else, when we never bothered to do it for ourselves. The closets have never been as spacious and uncluttered, the switch plates have never been as pristine, the ceiling fans have never been as dust-free.

It's kinda like when you've made a hair appointment and your hair suddenly looks the best it's ever looked. It's like it knows...

Freaky Friday Cancelled Due To Tryptophan

I mean, I admit there is something about eating turkey that makes you want to go to bed, but once in that drug-induced coma you couldn't care less who's in it with you...if anyone at all. And once you've stuffed yourself with all the Thanksgiving fixin's the last thing you want is someone on top of you. So I'm proclaiming Thanksgiving the least horniest day of the year, (unless of course you're talking about playing doctor with that cute cousin back behind the coat bed.) A couple of hands of Skipbo, watching football, and eating leftovers doesn't do much for the libido either.

Then of course you have to get to bed early so you can rest up for a day of warfare, uh, I mean shopping. Now shopping can be a turn on, but not while you're being trampled or making your way to the emergency room for stitches. This kind of combat gift procurement can only be exhausting at best. Probably around Saturday afternoon, after the pain killers have worn off and the last of the turkey tranquilizer has finally left your blood stream does normal sexual activity resume.

Happy Saturday!

Only Fifteen Minutes of Fame?

A few months ago Alesia Holliday was having trouble getting a title approved for her newest Chick Lit Legal Thriller by her publisher (Berkley) so she asked for help on the Chick Lit E-mail Loop I belong to. It's about a tall blonde attorney...and her editor decided on my suggestion.

Hopefully this isn't the pinnacle of my writing career, but it's still pretty cool. To see my words on a book cover...even if I didn't write the book, gave me quite a few chills. Would a book by any other title smell as sweet? I think not!



Click here for more info about the Blondes Have More Felons March 2006 release.

10 things men want to know about women

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

1. Do you love me even when I haven’t bathed or shaved and my nose hairs and toenails need trimming?

Yes. (But don’t plan on getting lucky.)

2. Am I the best you ever had?

Yes. (Within the last decade.)

3. Do you mind if I look at other women?

No. (If you don’t mind a knee to the groin.)

4. Do you use tears to manipulate me?

No. (When you act like a dick, it really makes me cry.)

5. Do you ever imagine I’m someone else while we’re making love?

No. (I’m imagining I’m the Penthouse centerfold you’re imagining.)

6. Why won’t you swallow afterward?

The same reason you won’t kiss me afterward.

7. Do you ever fake it?

No. (Except during months with R, Y or U in them.)

8. Would you be willing to act out my sexual fantasy?

Yes. (As long as it doesn’t involve another person, place or thing.)

9. Why are you so bitchy during that time of the month?

You’d be bitchy, too, if your face broke out, you retained water, your stomach cramped and you bled from your private parts for 5 days. (As a matter of fact, you’d probably have to be hospitalized.)

10. Why don’t you just come right out and tell me what you want?

If you can’t figure it out…then never mind!

After A Fall

* *P O E T R Y* *
W E D N E S D A Y


after a fall my fate is sealed
i touch to see if you are real
consumed by your sweet adoration
joined by love's own celebration

why am i next to your skin
opening up to let you in?
what did i do to earn your treasure?
i don't deserve all of this pleasure

my heart's in a precarious place
lingering on the curves of your face
but in a moment it could all go away
gone with the wind...lost in space

then i'll get what i am due
ripped untimely...me from you
consequences will prevail
halting happiness from my tale

sure as taxes take their tolls
and reapers come to take our souls
all those passions, big and small
must be paid back...after a fall

It's Crying Time Again

I know it's been a while since I posted, but there's a good reason. I've been sick. No, not the physical kind...and not the mental kind either. I've been sick to my stomach because I found out one of the multi-published authors in my local Romance Authors chapter just sold a book proposal to Warner with a similar premise to the book I've been slaving over for a year. The one that won third place in the contest. The one that was going to start me on my career as a fiction writer.

So I haven't felt much like writing. I've felt more like crying.

There's A Bathroom On The Right

For those of you new to the site, welcome! Freaky Friday is the designated day for sex talk on my blog.

***IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER*** This is sexually explicit material and may not be suitable for younger members of our blogging audience.

Two of the Carolina Panthers cheerleaders were apprehended and arrested in a Tampa bar for tying up the women's bathroom--by making love in it--with each other.

The cheerleaders in question were promptly fired by the Panthers. But don't worry. They've received an offer from Penthouse Magazine for a replay.

Despite the rumors, and according to MSNBC.com, the cheerleaders were not in town to perform at the game. The team said both were fired from the TopCats squad for violating a signed code that bans conduct embarrassing to the Panthers. Well, I guess this would qualify.

Sidebar: My husband and I were watching Conan O'Brian late Wednesday night and he started telling about the cheerleaders and their bathroom behavior. My husband had walked out of the room for a moment when Conan said, "We have exclusive video footage of the girls in action." As my husband walked back into the room, he exclaimed with sarcasm "I wish" just as the screen flashed with the words "you wish." It was a hilarious moment for both of us...guess you had to be there.

Anyway, I've taken a really long trip to finally get to my topic: A Man's Ultimate Fantasy. OR why is it a turn on when 2 women do it, but repulsive when 2 men do it?

I don't have any answers here, but two women don't do anything for me, so I guess what's good for the goose isn't always good for the gander. I do know most men dream of being with 2 women at once. Why they would want more than one woman to please is beyond me. I mean, in most cases they can barely handle the one they've got, right? I've heard a romp with 2 women is exhausting! And if you just want to watch, eventually you feel kinda left out and third wheelish.

What's my point? I don't know. I guess it's that men have a tendency to think more is better...a bigger engine...a better brand...2 cheerleaders.

Dream on, guys...

The Friends With No-Money Blues

* *P O E T R Y* *
W E D N E S D A Y


I'm glad my best friend has no cash
Because my purse is empty, too
Gold credit cards we do not flash
And all our bills are overdue

We both pack lunches of leftover shit
As the month crawls to an end
As soon as payday comes at last
Before you know it...we're broke again

A trip to the grocery store's a treat
Forget about the bars
Life's heaven when there's enough to eat
And gas for all the cars

We spend our last dime on our kids
We wear last decades clothes
Our savings accounts are on the skids
And our roofs sport leaky holes

We can't get a loan at the local bank
The IRS knows us by name
Our appliances are on the blink
And late fees drives us insane

The lottery we will never win
Disposable income? What's that?
Exotic furs we've never worn
We can't even afford a cat

We share so many problems
From late notices to bounced checks
The future should look very dim
With nooses around our necks

But we just joke and laugh it up
About our situation
We manage to cheer each other up
(except during menstruation)

We have something others would pay
A whole year's salary for
I'm so proud that I can say
We're friends and so much more

I'm certain when our ships come in
And we have debt no more
I'll thank God she was my friend
To make me feel rich when I was poor

What's Your Favorite Holiday?

Now that I have 5 weeks of PTO (paid time off for you non-corporate types) I take a week off at Thanksgiving and Christmas. If the holiday falls right I can get like 17 consecutive days between Christmas and New Years and only take like 4 PTO days off...okay, I exaggerate a little, but you know what I mean.

When I was little Christmas was definitely my favorite holiday. Not just the presents but being with all the family, singing Christmas carols, the food, playing with all the cousins...

Unfortunately, now it's just something to dread and "get through." I think that's because everyday is like Christmas for me so when the actual season rolls around I have to put a moratorium on my own spending and buy stuff for other people. I have to start using excuses. Phrases like "It's too close to Christmas" and "You'll just have to wait until Christmas" and "We have to save money for Christmas" start popping out of my mouth and I start to sound just like my mother used to.

Now that I've written that, I realize that sounds terrible. But that's not what I mean...I think.

I love to buy for others. I like to be generous with my money. And I like to be creative with the gifts I give. But now we have all these stupid rules. We draw names. I really hate that. I end up having to buy some distant uncle a present and I can't even buy my own mother-in-law something. And there's a price limit. It's kinda like a Nazi holiday...they tell you who to give to and how much...and you vill like it! Well I DON'T LIKE IT!

Gee...I feel better now.

Frank 'n Bride

Freaky Friday: One Trick Pony

Okay, I apologize ahead of time to all my "My Little Pony" fans. But this is pretty funny. Go here and take the test. I admit I failed miserably. I guess I don't know my pony from a hole in the ground.

9...But Who's Counting, Part 2

(Last week, Casandra dressed as the cowardly lion and Sampson her cat, dressed like Dorothy, went to the school carnival. While they were waiting on their ride home some high school boys started chasing the cat into the woods...)

Why didn't Cassandra's father pick us up tonight?

Sampson ran from the sound of jacket-boy's big shoes, which were also crunching leaves closer and closer behind him.

Now he'd be late for Cassandra's party, if he even made it at all. He was going deeper into the woods than he'd ever ventured before! Finally he shed the doll shoes and was able to pick up some much needed speed. Why was jacket-boy chasing him?

Suddenly he felt a limb or thorn snag his blue gingham pinafore. Pull as he might, he couldn't seem to free it. Jacket-boy grabbed him roughly by the scruff of the neck. "Gotcha!"

Sampson hadn't been held that way since he was a kitten.

"What the hell are you wearing? Come on, Kitty, Kitty..." His tone smacked of evil. "We need a black cat tonight."

Sampson felt the harsh bash of a log against his head and like the other times he had been in harm's way, lives began flashing before his eyes like slow motion at the speed of light: He watched as Cassandra's Dad slammed the door on his backside, his untimely dart into the street in front of the mail truck, the rat poison he'd eaten and promptly vomited, the hairball he breathed down the wrong way, curling up in the guest bedroom mattress springs right before Big Mama sat down, a slight miscalculation in the distance from the tree to the roof, the Doberman shaking him in his clinched jaws like a fluffy rag doll, and his breach birth which left him gasping for his first breaths of life.

Oh, God! If I was counting right, including the crack on my scull I just received, that was nine lives. That's all I get!

Sampson felt his soul rise from his body and float high into the October night sky. He looked down as the gang of kids seemed to perform some kind of satanic ritual. He felt tears rain to earth and overwhelming sadness fill the black sky. Yes, he would miss his fluffy black body, but more than that he would miss Cassandra, and he knew that she would cry for him, too.

***

"Sampson," Cassandra crooned, stroking the fur on the side of his face. "Wake up. It's time for the carnival."

Sampson opened his eyes, luxuriously stretched and realized he had been curled up next to Foxy in front of a blazing fire.

"Let's try on your Dorothy costume!"

Sampson spontaneously positioned himself for a frantic scramble across the hardwood floor, hoping friction would kick in as soon as possible. He clawed at the polished wood as he rounded each corner. Lunging under the guestroom bed he clamored into the springs.

"Sure hope Big Mama isn't coming to the party," he thought as he tried to find a comfortable spot in the springs for another little nap.

"Sampson, where are you?" called Cassandra.