Fairies and wizards and elves, oh my!

A few weeks ago, one of my long-time readers and good fans of the Clan Elves series stopped in  while on vacation, bringing me inspiration for more fantasy work:

I’ll add this to the brown wood elf cookie jar and the other pieces slowly trickling in. Pretty soon my office will be a whole fantasy forest! Thanks Lynn and Jon!!

A day in the Steel City

We drove out of the rain in our little city, south to Pittsburgh for several items of business. First, our panel discussion and booksigning at the Penguin Bookshop in Sewickley. We pulled together a group of authors from the western end of the state: Gene Ware, Cindy Lynn Speer, Sharon Donovan, Kathy Otten, Gloria Clover, Carole Waterhouse and me. We had a very interesting conversation with Maryanne Eichorn about the relationship between small press authors and indie bookstores, and the path to publication each of us had followed.

Sunset along Shiloh Street, Mount Washington

Then on to the rest of the day, taking pictures for the upcoming book trailers for CONVICTION OF THE HEART and SECOND CHANCES, since they’re both set in the city. The Cabana Boy and the kids took a trip down to Carson Street to explore the collectible toy shop and score a couple of Transformers.Here’s a few of the shots that struck me.

Since CONVICTION OF THE HEART is about a Pittsburgh attorney who defends and protects a battered wife of a city councilman, I expect our trailer will feature the courthouse and court rooms. Suzanne Taylor is a family law attorney and single mother who encounters a city police lieutenant interested in her. He’s just been promoted and finding the “joys” of supervisor status not exactly what he’d anticipated: bureaucratic delays, rebellious personnel, financial juggling.

But they find consolation and challenge in each other, while the danger escalates when the      councilman strikes back.  

And Pittsburgh is an attractive city, as well. Although the traffic is something we’re not used to, and neither of us were pleased to deal with.  Not sure exactly what events were going on last night, but there were reroutings and traffic jams and construction blockages everywhere! Also a lot of loud, rowdy folk traveling in Anderson buses, wearing Steelers’ gear:

Pittsburgh is a great place to set stories. I’ve got two novels about women lawyers coming out in the next year, and I think I’ll continue that trend in years to come. We can populate the city courthouse with many memorable ladies to come.

Love–it’s for everyone. So is marriage. Equal rights, too.

It’s National Coming Out Day. Celebrate the unique and diverse in all of us. Whether we love dark chocolate or milk chocolate, have red hair or blonde, love men or love women, we are who we are, and we’re born this way.

 

Also on topic today, my flash fiction story “Personally” that came out at Every Day Fiction. If you have just a few minutes, that’s enough to check it out.

Let’s all do what we can today to empower each and every one of our brothers and sisters to be who they are, shall we?

Our newest creation

Yes, yes, I know I haven’t posted here as often as I’d like–hopefully you’ve missed me! The good news is I’ve been doing substantial amounts of writing-related work, which is a good thing! The latest venture is this little bit of video, a book trailer for my first published novel, The Elf Queen. A book trailer is supposed to be like a movie trailer, giving enough of the story to entice folk to come see/read my book. (and hopefully the rest of the series!)

So what did you think? Is it exciting? Suspenseful? Must you go buy the book at Amazon right now? Okay, if you must. Pssst:  pass it on… 

Also, come visit blogs around the country where I’m posting, as Lyndi, on the subject of writing, reading and life:

At Southern-Fried Gothic on the importance of setting to your story

With Nicki Markus on how every little change is the beginning of something bigger

and today and Friday with The Greater Fort Worth, Texas Writers, on connecting with readers. Leave a comment on Monday’s or Friday’s post and be entered into a drawing for a free copy of The Elf Queen!

Is it me, or…?

So Doctor Doo-Be-Do goes to take his shower last night and comes down with his hair just not right. The Cabana Boy checks his hair, which does not smell like it’s been washed. He admits he didn’t use the dandruff shampoo BECAUSE IT’S BEEN EMPTY FOR OVER A WEEK. (arrgh.)

So then he says he used the Dove for Men…which is clearly marked body wash, not shampoo. So Dad sends him back up to wash again.

He comes back with his hair all flowery smelling, and the Cabana Boy asks him what he used. Country Chic, he says–clearly marked shower gel.

(Do they not teach teenaged boys to read???)

(Especially this child who has his nose in a book half the time???)

So he has to go back up, with a bottle marked shampoo IN HAND this time.

Comes down, all is well.

So when he gets ready to go to bed, I remind him to brush his teeth. “With the toothpaste. Not the hair cream. Not the antibiotic cream. Not the itchy cream in a tube.”

And he growls at me all the way up the stairs.

What? Wasn’t I being helpful???

And in other news…

We had a busy end to the summer in addition to the drama over the captain.

Little Miss entered the purple zinnias she planted in the spring into the county fair and took second place! It’s the highest she’s placed, and she was thrilled.

K and her family were here fair week, which was fun, because she got to take Lexi and Z to see our huge fair (well at least it’s exciting for this small town…). We ate the obligatory Nick’s Italian Sausage, and fried pickles and garbage fries…hmm. A lot of fried in there. I think there were definitely some tums in there too.

But yum.

Of course at the fair we had to ride some rides, and Little Miss and Z particularly liked the carousel:

We also had to play some games–Z won a shark!

All in all it was a great visit that went much too fast. I will point out, however, that even though we had two future chefs in the house, everyone wanted to eat MY cooking.

We had tomato pie, Mexican food, fresh bagels with tomato and basil…all sorts of goodies.  We also gave Z the Cars quilt we made for his new room. K took Z and the kids out to see the fish at Pymatuning. All this, AND Chucky Cheese? Wow. I think we all crashed afterward.

Have you ever seen the fish at Pymatuning? Over by the Spillway, a host of giant carp live, and people throw bread to them, their sucking mouths gobbling it up–unless the ducks walk on top of them and grab it first. Yes, they’re that thick. Here’s a video someone else took:

Do they have surreality shows…?

…’cause if they do, I think I need to sign up.

The kids started school today, officially bringing this summer to an end. Not a moment too soon, in my book. This has to be the strangest summer I’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.

As a corollary of the fact that Little Miss and Dr. Doo-Be-Do didn’t have any formal/medical/mental health programming this summer, I actually functioned as a Stay-at-Home-Mom. As I’ve worked forever, even carting baby B in a bassinet along with me to my floral design employer, it was an odd shift. (Recalling that job, born of the Mariel boatlift to Miami, and Bobby Catoe, the man I worked for, I remember he kept calling the baby “it” or “Ger-trud-ah”. He wasn’t a family man.)

I think the shift began when my father stayed with us this spring, and I was called upon to be available all day long as he needed help. I noticed my greater focus on tending the home–not that before, I just let it run wild, but it wasn’t as high a priority. Now it’s something I do all day long, not just in breaks from the office. Of course, when the children were here, I also played taxi driver, entertainment coordinator, main medical shuttle, food canner, jelly maker, garden maintainer, clothes shopper, etc., like many of the other moms I know who don’t have to work outside the home. It was refreshing. I like it.

I worked on and sold another novel this summer. I moved from student at writing conferences, to teacher at writing conferences. I sold books. I got interviewed. The writing life is mine to have now, which is a surreal existence all on its own. I’m still trying to fit it in with all the other hats. Not always a cozy fit.

The Cabana Boy is finally teaching full time in addition to his computer/network side business, and I got an official job with the county, which means a steady paycheck. Haven’t had one of those in about ten years. Definitely an unsettling experience. It still surprises me every couple of weeks to see a new deposit in my bank account. Pleasant surprise, mind you, but…weird.

And then of course, there’s the saga of the Captain, who completed months 12 thru 15 of his three-month stay in partial hospitalization, had his first interaction with the juvenile justice system and pushed his father to extreme sanctions out of desperation. It is a totally unreal feeling to know as a parent, that you have done EVERYTHING within your power to help a child and see what’s necessary to comply with the house/societal rules, and have him do something other than that. I mean, I’m not naive. I work in the system. I see parents and kids who have lives that are out of control, but so often those are due to economic or social issues that affect the family. I’ve had teenagers, too, a lot of them. I know they have interesting twists and turns all to themselves. But that’s not what we saw here. We were powerless to make the necessary changes happen, after doing everything we’d been recommended to do by those working with the Captain in the system.

So he’s in a therapeutic foster care setting. Because we failed. Even though we know in a cognitive manner that we had done everything we could, and that the worst part of his issues are due to things he can’t control, it still feels like we failed.

On the other hand, it’s been a week now, and our household has lightened immeasurably. The Cabana Boy says his chest has stopped hurting when he approaches within five miles of home on his way back from work. No more headache trips to the ER from the overload of stress. No more ulcer symptoms.  The other two children have adjusted beautifully and “the team” has become more than just lip service. We’re a family again, a “normal” family.

Any one of these things could have been a major shift in a life. We’ve experienced them all in a season, half in a blind rush that shoved us through the days. Only now that the pressure is off can we look back and reflect. It still seems like a bad dream, a lot of it. All we can do is hope as the days go by, that the worst of it fades and that we get to keep the best.

Until Hollywood calls…

With an arsenic chaser, please…..?

Day from hell.  No, from right PAST hell, and out the other side.

First, not sleeping. Not sleeping sends the fibromyalgia into Massive Overdrive. Add to that the entry of a weather front–definitely not a good sign. So we’re into the Vicodin first thing.

Good news flash! Our CYS worker has smoothed the way for a clean intake for the Captain’s foster care placement next week. Sigh of relief.

After I check that email, though,it’s off for a morning of defending survivors of domestic violence, helping out the local legal services agency, overloaded with 14 cases the same morning. Worried all morning that I won’t finish in time for my early afternoon meeting with the partial hospitalization team at the Captain’s current placement. Stress=more pain. Hurrah.

Settle all the cases I’m responsible for. Yay! Get home in time to even take Little Miss and Dr. Do-Bee-Doo to Mickey D’s for lunch on the way to Erie.

Meet with the team and the new doctor. Even the Cabana Boy can finally participate by phone, for the first time, which is good, because the Captain’s current living circumstances are at his insistence. I get worn out defending it. (Even if I have nothing else to offer instead; the Captain’s been through my entire repertoire already.)

Finish there, leaving feeling pretty positive for a change, and head to Erie County Farms for a grocery stock up before K and her family come next week. This is a crazy place, for those who don’t know it, where people mob the counters, sometimes steal food from each others’ carts, etc., but mid-afternoon halfway through the month is usually better. I leave Dr. D. with a list of cheese to get at the cheese counter and take Little Miss off to gather everything else, two tasks that usually take about the same amount of time.

We’re busy shopping, when we notice a stir among the store workers, who are rushing around looking for something. Or someone. Turns out they’re looking for the parent of the little boy who’s just had a seizure.

Oh, yes, Dr. D.

So we make our way over and check him out. He’s a little pale, but he looks ok. He had a couple of fainting spells several months ago at a comics convention with his dad, but dad hadn’t fed him first. This time was a little different. Some bystander called the ambulance, so while we were waiting for them, Little Miss was a little antsy, so I give her the number and list and ask her to wait for cheese. Like three feet from me.

Good enough.

Then the ambulance shows up, and the crew checks him out, and his vitals are fine. I explain we’re from out of town and I want to get him checked out at home. They’re fine with that. We sign some papers and then I turn around and Little Miss is gone.

Finally the lady at the cheese counter says, “Oh, I sent her back to the other cheese counter to get the fresh mozzarella.” 

OMG. I thought I’d die. I can’t leave Dr. D., in case he seizes again, and I can’t go look for her. I’m like…are you kidding? The cheese lady much have figured out I was freaking, because she came out and asked if she could go find her. (Granted, she looks old, she’s 5’4″, could be 14 or 15.) So I mention that she’s autistic, and the cheese lady says, “Oh, I thought so. I’ll be right back.”

She goes to look for her. But Little Miss, exercising the common sense she’s so gifted with, wanders back to the last place she saw us when she can’t find the cheese. Bless her! The cheese lady comes back with cheese in hand and we go to check out.

I send the boy to the car to rest and wait, making sure the last thing I say is “Leave the door open because the car is hot.” I check out and come to the car, which is all closed up and about 105 degrees inside. Banging my head on the van really doesn’t help (tho it does feel good when I stop…)

So we head home, calling the pediatrician en route, who wants to see him as soon as we’re back in town, of course. So we swing by there, and she sets an appointment at Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh for next week for an EEG, no pool or baths in the meantime so he doesn’t drown. I’m making the Cabana Boy take him. I’ve handled the whole Captain debacle, and I’m too damn overwhelmed working four jobs while he spends all his spare time on the computer. So this one’s his.

At least it was the day my delightful cleaning woman was here and the house was clean. And K’s coming next week. Otherwise I’d just go ahead and jam a stick in my eye or something. *sigh* Definitely more vicodin on the menu for the night…and a hope that tomorrow is a better day.