Sneak Peek

peeping tomYou’ve been asking about what my next novel is about. Here’s a little sneak peek;

How do your write about magic when the protagonist doesn’t know anything about it herself?

Well, you just write. You dream it up, because nothing has to make sense. Sense is over-rated and we often forget that.

Sometimes the best existence is just feeling; living in the moment as a big, fat, YES!

Sometimes witches don’t wear black velvet dresses or have long, black hair. No. Sometimes they wear jeans from the church rummage sale and men’s white undershirts.

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When You’ve Had Enough: Dealing with Wretchedness

thingsthatshine***ADULT LANGUAGE WARNING***

Let all of those things bubble to the surface and let them heal you.

~The Mumster~

She was talking about things that pissed me off. You know, the things that camouflage themselves when viewed through rose-coloured glasses.

These are the things you want so badly that you project your lovliness onto them, despite them being absolute rubbage. Stinky, ugly, screwed up beyond all recognition; trash.

These are the people and things that make you cry, doubt yourself, clutter your mind with slow-motion-replays of every single freaking clue you should have picked up on, until you finally decide that you’ve had enough.

E-freakingnough…

Darlings, I’m too old to replay my past. At this stage, I want to move forward, build healthy relationships, both professionally and personally, and I most certainly do not want to tolerate someone else’s bullshit. I want to laugh, love and laugh some more.

I have lived intentionally for a long time, choosing (yes, CHOOSING) to be a kind, open-hearted and loving person in spite of selfish and mean-spirited people trying to take advantage of that.

What it  boils down to is this; if you are an asshole of the dirtiest kind, only you have to suffer that. We don’t. I choose to eliminate (no pun intended) those folks from my life, with as little energy expended as possible. You should too. Ignore those assholes so hard that they start to believe they don’t exist.

Sadness and heartbreak are inevitable, but so are the wonderful new experiences which await us if we continue to choose to be kind, loving and embrace life.

Without having had to question certain relationships this year, I would not be looking forward to a more stable income. I would not have reconnected with a hunky old school chum.

I would not have reached out to my friends as much as I have for support (therefore we’ve formed stronger bonds). I would not have been so inspired to tackle a writing project, and other hobbies that make me come alive.

prettywreckI also would not have been laid out in tears, heartbroken and sad. Sounds awful! But no. It gave my body and mind a chance to process things, and rest. Rest is highly under-rated these days. Napping is the new black.

In other words, if framed properly, dealing with bad relationships can work, but only if you adopt the right attitude, get off your lazy buns and do something to make YOU more vibrant.

Life is for living, and if nothing else, dealing with bullshit and assholes should be a firm reminder that life is precious, time passes too quickly, and people who are lovely, well, they’re worth more than their weight in fine chocolate.

Be fabulous darlings.redhearts

Ghost Whisperer; Listening to Our Angels

waiting for a signI woke up at 6:23 this morning, assessed the snuggling situation with my big, duvet covered bed, and made the executive decision to roll over and relax just a little bit more.

Four hours later I made my bleary-eyed debut in front of the coffee maker, pressed the magic button, and stumbled around opening blinds and welcoming in the day. I would say I welcomed the sun, but alas, it is overcast. It’s the perfect, grey, fall, day to snuggle in and nest.

These are the fall days I’m most fond of. The ones where you can throw on a pair of jeans, sneakers and a sweater and take a stroll without being scorched by the sun, or blown away by a blizzard.

Grey days though, at the beginning of fall (not the nasty bleakness of late November) are the best for baking and cooking.

As a little girl, I was attached at the hip to my maternal grandmother. She taught me to roll pastry dough, to iron, and best of all, during days like today, she would sneak me to the top of the stairs, and read poetry with me.

My paternal grandmother was a woman who lived her life without apology; strong, independent, and fiercely protective of her family. She could also cook and bake like nobody’s business.

I gave her a journal for Christmas one year, and she faithfully wrote in it every day. She gave me the journal when she got sick, and I read it. Her September 13 entry reads,

Babysitting again. Scott slept until noon. Paula got home about 4 o’clock. Nancy came to watch our show. Jake was here. Patricia called. Called Carol later.

(names have been changed to protect the multiple identities of my wacky relatives)

I read her every-day notes, and know that life is just a series of weaving these days together; good and bad, full and lonely, happy and sad. A life is made up of  a series of seemingly insignificant moments that, when stitched together make a beautiful tapestry.

This morning as I stumbled in my half-awake-stupor, back to my writing desk, I had a sudden grief wash over me. I had a deep desire to pick up the phone and talk with her. I missed her with the same intensity I did when she died 15 years ago. More than anything I wanted to connect, to hear her voice, seek her advice, and most of all, do what we so often did when we were together; laugh. My phone rang….

bake a cakeI do believe this to be her way of answering a question I’ve had in my heart for some time. Yah, it may just be coincidence, but since it was an atypical call, I’m going to go with, “Thanks granny you old wise woman you, I really needed that.

Most of the messages I tend to notice are likely just my conscience calming down my anxious nature. Others are; Stay the course. Be patient, screw this and get the hell outta there.

So this morning, I felt lonely, that hollow pit of grief that always remains regardless of time or space when you lose someone you love, and I was given a conversation with someone I love very much to help soothe the ache.

Life is a continuous season of change; friendship, career, life and death.

Although our loved ones die, they remain with us as part of our conscience, whispering to our selves. They remind us of our dreams, reassure us when we are fearful, and once in a while, if we’re really quiet in our minds, shine a little light in the darkness when we’re unsure of which path to take.

Baking and cooking is one of the ways I quiet my mind enough to hear those whispers from the women who loved me the most. I’m sure that both of my granny’s will be with me today in the kitchen. But first…one more coffee…