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Dancing out of the cage

I spent this weekend relaxing, for the most part – and at one point, dancing! By myself in the living room.

Just because I could I suppose, but also because the weather is mild and there was (and still is) a mellow breeze in the air.

This is the calm before the ‘heat storm’.

Calm climate brevity.

It won’t last long.  Soon I’ll be plugging the fans back in and paying extortion type rates for electricity to run the A/C

Also now regretting ‘the bangs’.  Shortly they’ll be wet and plastered to my head.

Began reading again.

The WIFI in the laundromat has been touchy.  Today wasn’t working at all and in anticipation of this, I packed a book.

The thing is – I stopped doing things I used to love a while ago.

When was the last time I wrote in my diary?  Last time I painted?  Last time I grabbed my camera and left the house in search of something wonderful?


My life used to revolve around my kid and now … I’m stuck with myself.

When people say (and, I must be odd enough for them to actually say this) “I wonder what it’s like in your head”.  I respond with “Well, don’t go in there unattended”.

And now here I spend all my home time doing just that.

I feel like a bird in an open cage – choosing to stay inside.

The actual bird cage in my room … Door open and cobwebs

There are amazing days.   Revelations and epiphanies.  Also darkness and fear.

It’s like a ginormous abacus is before me and I’m pushing the beads – weighing pro’s and con’s – trying to calculate my future (as if I have a say in that ultimately).

I’m no spring chicken anymore.  People I love have passed.  People I love are sick.

I have health issues myself – a few I haven’t shared with anybody and I’m afraid to know more about.  Ignorance is bliss no?

My patience wears thin at those around me with no gratitude.  No sense of urgency to enjoy their abilities or what they have.  Or, to push further to have more connection to what is really important!

My go to example is the bank.

When there’s a line and I hear someone whining about standing in it all I can think is:

There are people who would give anything to stand in this line!  Seriously.

The ill and the housebound.

Just to have the ability to stand unaided – without pain.  Even just to BE at a bank, which, clearly means you’re there for a financial transaction.

Those with nothing wouldn’t mind that particular inconvenience.

Sadly, I haven’t been living up to my potential either.  So, rather than be a hypocrite, I’m owning that and sharing it with you.

I’ve let my very humble home go – when it comes to deep cleaning.

I’ve  lost joy in things I used to love.

But this peri-Summer breeze is a gentle awakening.

I want myself back!

And I want MORE for me.

Not more ‘stuff’ – in fact, I need to purge my life of a great deal of material things.

I want … Hope.

I want to feel like I contributed at the end of a day.

I want the people I love to FEEL it without any doubt.

I want to get pulled back into books and to be a better writer.

I haven’t been proud of anything I’ve written in a very long time – and I used to be good.

Admitting that alone is huge!

And, I want to dance in my living room.

LIVE in my ‘living’ room and not just beach myself on my Chaise Lounge with a remote control in my hand.

Time to get my finger off the pause button and press play.

The quandary of Facebook

Ok.  I’ll admit it.  I’m ‘one of them.’


I’m the diary chick.

SO not a ‘status’ chick.  “I am currently writing a blog.” <POST> nah.

But, in my defense, I’m also VERY selective with my ‘friends.’  And I quote that because I see people with hundreds upon HUNDREDS of friends and I just don’t get it?

Facebook is not LinkedIn … Facebook, I thought, was a personal web page of sorts that you communicated from to your favorite friends and family?

I have under 100 ‘friends.’

I share too much.

I have also found myself deleting posts after posts because I feel inadequate or unable to be ‘real’ even with my selected friends.


Insecurities obviously … But, also, because THEIR lives SEEM so freaking amazing.  I feel I fall short when I am honest.

And if you’re going with the above cartoon, then WHY is a photo of food not acceptable????


If we’re keeping it to ‘status’ only, then, what I’m eating is perfectly appropriate.  Right?

I enjoy such features as IM.  Instant messaging friends from all over the planet – for FREE!

No phone bill.

No stamps. (Although, I DO miss hand written letters.)

Off Tangent.

I have decided Facebook users fall into the following categories:

*The fantasy poster* – You ONLY hear good from them and their lives sound like they have a unicorn in their backyard and rainbows and confetti in their front yard – and you will NEVER live up to their marriage/relationship/mothering/fathering skills.

(Problem I have with these friends is that I actually judge myself – compare myself TO them.)

*The sometimes poster*  – They really only remember Facebook when they’re NOT living their lives – because they’re real, and maybe they’ll share something fun with you.  But, who know’s what’s going on in between.

*The work poster* – They’re busy, but want to advocate their occupation.  You’ll get glimpses of their lives IF they decide it merits sharing and the post is innocuous – but mostly, it’s about work.

*The semi-honest poster* – Shares when they’re sad or happy – when their kids/partner/selves are sick or tired – but will stop at anything embarrassing.

*The Stalker* – They’re your friend, and occasionally will ‘like’ a post, but mostly just hangs back and reads everyone’s statuses and won’t share a damn thing.


* The over sharer (me) – will purge EVERYTHING without thought and regret it later.  Usually will delete.



Thing is – I’m a writer!!!! I AM!  I was published by 10.  Have never stopped wanting to share.  And this is why my friend list is short.  And this is why I keep diminishing it – because I don’t WANT to stop being honest.  I don’t WANT to have to edit myself.

MY Facebook IS my personal page.  And anyone invited should seriously consider it an honor (tongue in cheek) because I just don’t trust many people.

I’ll be purging all over the place AND deleting – because that IS what I do.

God forbid I actually get a book published – would be pretty hard to delete. 😉

Um, and by the way … Check THIS out.  After hitting review:



What I was even going to originally write about on Sunday was Stefan Kiesbye.

But then I felt bad – like I’d cornered him. (My issues, no reality there.)

He is my favorite author.

AND, a friend on Facebook.


Yes, I had even deleted my innocuous Valentines post to my friends and family.

Funny thing is – I got a message from Rainer on Valentine’s Day – and I remembered asking him to get Stefan’s autograph for me at a book fair in Europe.

ANYWAY! If you haven’t read these – you really should …



The Staked Plains – (when I got an ARC I FLIPPED out!)

And – my favorite ….


Bottom line I guess … I want to be real.  I don’t want to delete a moment.  I want to share EVERYTHING with you.  Was watching a movie today (can’t remember which – I got Netflixbewitched) and one of the quotes went something like … I can’t remember.  But it was important.  And hey, mid-forties, cut me a break.  Maybe THAT’S why I share everything?  Because a year from now, Facebook is going to remind me I have a memory.

Musings from the Laundromat: The Staked Plains edition


I don’t know what I did to deserve an Advance Reading Copy of Stefan Kiesbye’s new book ‘The Staked Plains’, but the invitation came from the author himself and that alone made me feel incredible.

Not one to look a gift author in the mouth, and considering he is one of my favorite authors, of course I politely and calmly said yes, I would LOVE to be included.

OK, it didn’t come out like that.  It was more – ‘teenage girl spots favorite boy band and proceeds to fan girl the fuck out.’

I was introduced to Kiesbye’s work when I read ‘Your House Is on Fire, Your Children all  Gone’ in 2013.


I did the ‘carry the book around whilst bumping into walls’ thing with that one.   My nook went with me everywhere until the last sentence.

You know you have read a great book when you come out of that last page much like you would a matinee of a great movie.  Blinking against the light of day and disoriented.

Yesterday presented the perfect opportunity to sink into The Staked Plains and I proceeded to read the entire novella with a minimum of bathroom breaks.  No, the book did not come with me – are you kidding?  It’s my ARC copy!  I did hate to leave it on the couch though and hurried back to it.

When I reached the last few paragraphs, I greedily read them.  And then sat – stunned.

Absolutely stunned.

“He did it again.”  Was my first thought.

Not just write a damn good book, but managed to throw marbles under the feet of the reader.  I was off kilter.  Needing more!  I kept flipping to the ‘Acknowledgements’ and ‘About the Author’ pages hoping they’d magically fill with more of Kiesbye’s words.

Remember I’ve shared this before:


Well, in this case, the curtains aren’t always blue.  Never mind Shrek, Kiesbye is like an onion!  Layers upon layers that you KNOW are there but too absorbed to ‘get’ on a first reading.  I know for a fact that I’ll need to read this book many more times and maybe even get a degree in archeology before completely understanding.

I love that by the way.  I don’t want to be dumbed down by a book.  I want to feel almost unworthy reading it.  I want the book to challenge me as I try to figure out who the characters are and why they’re doing what they’re doing – and honestly, with this book, Kiesbye keeps throwing those marbles.

I had told Stefan in an email that I would be reviewing the book today – and jokingly said “You don’t mind if I open with the last paragraph right?”  I would never.  But – let me try to sum up The Staked Plains without giving any of the meat away.  (OK, without trying, that last sentence might be an Easter Egg for you.)

For me, on first read – it’s about humanity in a barren environment, with a heaping spoonful of the supernatural. No one is who they seem – and yet they are.  Human.  Whatever that means.  And while the characters are written honestly, I still found myself surprised by what they were capable of – and of what they weren’t.

But that IS humanity no?

We’re all layers.  Capable of such good and born with so many juxtapositions inside of us.

The book made me uncomfortable because I felt like I was looking in a mirror and seeing everything I fight not to be, everything that is complex and ugly about me that I can’t tamp down sometimes.   And, everything honest and beautiful about my self too.


Currently – the publication date for The Staked Plains is November 24th of this year.  THANK YOU Saddle Road Press for publishing this amazing book.   And, THANK YOU Stefan for remembering a fan who reached out two years ago with “Hurry up and write another book.”


‘The Lives We Live’ A Reality Show – HEROES: Series Finale

The final three. What innovation. Congrats to all for getting to the final round. Of course, HERE, I’m going to ask you to cast your vote for James Foster. My artist. My best friend. My future husband.

To blog or not to blog …

I hurt someone with my last post.

I really didn’t mean to – I straddle that line of honesty and discretion every time my fingers hit the keyboard.

I came across as ungrateful.

That was not my intention either.

The day was amazing – I was sharing the whole of it though, without going into details.

But I’ve done damage.

My blog is up for renewal next month – I’m debating whether or not to keep it. Why? Because I have the awful condition of not being able to shut up.

And I’m too forthcoming for my own good sometimes – and clearly, too forthcoming for others good too.

I don’t want to post watered down, milquetoast writings.

I’ve always wanted and needed to be free in my writing.

And when I write – it’s mostly about what is going on in my life in that moment.

I could sit and do a journalistic piece keeping me, my life, friends and family out of it – but it wouldn’t be authentic.

I’m proud of the interviews I’ve done.

I love my photography category. There’s some good stuff in there.

But what I’ve always needed to do is just … write.   And it comes from somewhere inside that I try not to filter too much.

So what to do?

I’m not sure.

But I know I feel awful – and remorseful.

And I never wanted those feelings to come from my writing.

truth writing