Chrissy Munder's Blog, page 76
March 25, 2011
Things to do, Things to do - for Readers and Authors both
Taking a break from our next scheduled snowstorm to remember I've been slack on the upcoming events end of things.
Today, March 25th - It's GLBTQ Theme Day over at Love Romances Cafe Yahoo Group from 9 am-midnight EST. You know what this means. Excerpts, excerpts, excerpts. And empty pocket books. But we're worth it.
Thursday, March 31st - Ready for another fun and festive LIVE version of The Clare and Chrissy Show? Join us at Love Romances Cafe Yahoo Group from 1 pm-4 pm EST. Clare will be fresh from her appearance at the Rainbow Book Fair in NYC, and I'll be overly caffineated.
Today, March 25th - It's GLBTQ Theme Day over at Love Romances Cafe Yahoo Group from 9 am-midnight EST. You know what this means. Excerpts, excerpts, excerpts. And empty pocket books. But we're worth it.
Thursday, March 31st - Ready for another fun and festive LIVE version of The Clare and Chrissy Show? Join us at Love Romances Cafe Yahoo Group from 1 pm-4 pm EST. Clare will be fresh from her appearance at the Rainbow Book Fair in NYC, and I'll be overly caffineated.
March 24, 2011
Excerpt Thursday! Snow and Ice Edition
How many of you were gifted by more snow and ice this week? How many lost power? Everyone else can forgive us for thinking it's still December, including our favorite snow chippie. The bluejays and cardinals are more indignant than us humans. With that spirit in mind I'm posting info on my Holiday-themed stories. A little Christmas in March, so to speak. Better with Sprinkles: College student Tom Molina isn't too interested when his roommate Derek tries to convince him to leave his books and help out with the campus LGBTA Center's annual Christmas cookie sale. But Derek has an ace in the hole to score the center Tom's grandmother's sugar cookie recipe: fellow volunteer Jeanette's cousin just happens to be the organic chemistry T.A. Tom's been dreaming about. Now Tom just has to hope Isaac is as interested in baking cookies as he is in chemistry and HIV awareness.
The Reason for the Season: All college student Adam Everett is trying to do is get to his sister's house for holiday break. First his car breaks down, then his ride takes off to Vegas with his gas money, forcing Adam to come up with a Plan C. His last hope is a campus ride exchange, where he ends up with the reluctant Michael Brennan. When a "snowpocalypse" forces them to share a motel room, they soon find out there's more than one reason for the chance happenings of the season.
Season's Greetings - Russ Manners writes greeting cards for a living, except Christmas is fast approaching, there's no snow, and he's fallen behind on his big Easter Card project. He's blaming the new guy, Ian Fiorillo, because ever since Ian was hired, Russ spends all his time writing bad Valentine rhymes to Ian's best asset. What Russ doesn't realize is that Ian would love to help him appreciate the wonders of Christmas in Florida.</p>
A Gift of Ash and Frost - (Historical Romance) When new residents come to the Grange, Mathias applies for a job at the house and is hired on at the housekeeper's request for the Christmas season. He finds there a temptation of the body and heart in the form of the house's master, one that he is ill-equipped to handle or resist … not that he has the desire to do so.
Giving Gifts - Seth is having a scarily good time at the office Christmas party this year. He owes it all to his hoped-for boyfriend, Oscar, who turned him into a carefree programmer from an uptight nerd. If Mr. Saroc, the company CEO's assistant, would quit dogging his steps at work, Seth believes his happiness with Oscar will be complete in time for kissing under the mistletoe.
Santa's Little Helper - Left in the lurch without a Santa, Rob grabs a gorgeous guy he sort-of recognizes from the office to wear the red suit, and it's immediate attraction on both their parts. But Rob's ex, John, knows something important about the jolly ol' fellow, something he hopes doesn't ruin the holiday magic.
March 20, 2011
Looking for some Live Clare London? Chatting Live at Goodreads!
Tired of the same old, same old, on the web this morning? Grab your coffee and run, don't walk to the Goodreads M/M Group Chat room for some Live Clare London.
Here's the quick link - just type in a username and go: LINK
Here's the quick link - just type in a username and go: LINK
March 17, 2011
Dreamspinner Authors Chatting at Love Romances Cafe (Discounts! Excerpts!)
Pssst. Just popping in to say Contest #1 and the ever-popular Discount code for purchases has just been posted. Come join the Dreamspinner Authors for an evening of excerpts, chat, discounts and fun. Where you ask?
Click Here to visit the Love Romances Cafe Yahoo Group and come chat with us.
Click Here to visit the Love Romances Cafe Yahoo Group and come chat with us.
Dreamspinner Press - now on Goodreads
Calling all fans of Dreamspinner Press and Goodreads. Join the Dreamspinner Press Group on Goodreads - A place for authors and readers of Dreamspinner Press to interact.
In addition to discussions, member contests, and giveaways, take advantage of the March Membership Thank You! It's easy. Visit your Dreamspinner Press account at the website, browse to your heart's content, and load up your wishlist. Then, comment on the contest thread at the Dreamspinner Press Group on Goodreads.
At the end of March, Dreamspinner will draw the name of one member who comments to win the all the eBooks on their wishlist. If the Dreamspinner Group hits 500 members by the end of March, they'll draw 5 winners, so tell your friends!
In addition to discussions, member contests, and giveaways, take advantage of the March Membership Thank You! It's easy. Visit your Dreamspinner Press account at the website, browse to your heart's content, and load up your wishlist. Then, comment on the contest thread at the Dreamspinner Press Group on Goodreads.
At the end of March, Dreamspinner will draw the name of one member who comments to win the all the eBooks on their wishlist. If the Dreamspinner Group hits 500 members by the end of March, they'll draw 5 winners, so tell your friends!
March 16, 2011
Clare and Chrissy Go in Search of the Missing Link! Are eBooks really to blame?
Welcome to another edition of The Clare and Chrissy Show! Are eBooks really to blame for the demise of the brick and mortar retail new bookstore? Grab your pith helmet, ignore the zombies, and join us as we go in search of the chain of cause and effect, examining our own book buying habits in the process.We're partying at Clare's Blog this month so click HERE to join in.
March 10, 2011
Excerpt Thursday! The Scenic Route
How about a clip from my short story, The Scenic Route to take our minds off the latest round of snow?
The Scenic Route by Chrissy Munder. Available from Dreamspinner Press
Buy Link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=1804
Summary: It's the first time Ed Baldwin has ever taken his boyfriend Joe Sutton home to meet his parents, and nervous, he keeps trying to pick a fight with Joe to relieve his stress while they drive. When Joe's had enough they pull over in a very small town where the choice in motels only adds to Ed's anxiety. A series of strange happenings puts them back on the road sooner than expected, and it's at an all-night diner that they find out why the Easy Rest Motel didn't live up to its name. That's what Ed gets for letting Joe take the scenic route
Excerpt:
"Fine. Make a joke." Ed bit his lower lip as Joe drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel and let a few miles pass by in silence. "I'm too tired for this. We're stopping for the night."
"Here?" Ed glanced up and realized they had driven out of the darkness. From the scattered lighting he guessed they had entered the outskirts of a small community. "You're kidding me, right?"
In answer, Joe pulled over into a parking lot and turned the key to off. Ed listened to the tick of the cooling engine and gazed at the flash of neon announcing a vacancy at the Easy R st M tel. Ed puzzled out the name despite the missing letters and protested as soon as he took a glimpse past the sign. "No way. We can't stay here. This place is a dump."
Ed watched as Joe slammed the car door behind him, and ran through the rain toward the office entrance marked with a red arrow. "We're the only car, doesn't that tell you anything?" He yelled at Joe's retreating back.
The tall, outdoor fixture at the end of the parking lot offered a backdrop of yellowed glare, illuminating the individual drops of rain. Ed lowered his window and let the cooler air wash over him, inhaling the mixed aromas of car exhaust and wet earth. Viewed in the dim light the motel resembled the location used in a low-budget horror movie.
Years ago the tiny, individual log cabins nestled in the backdrop of dark woods had probably been the height of charming and rustic, now neglected and run down. Ed listened as the rain hit against the broken pavement and shivered. This was so not his idea of a good time. Even as a kid growing up in The U.P. he had instinctively hated anything to do with the woods and the inescapable sense something waited to pounce just out of his sight. Give him concrete, city lights and a respectable mugger any day.
"Never separate," Ed murmured as he rubbed his arms and raised the window once again. "Isn't that where things always go wrong in those movies?"
The clock set into the dashboard blinked as it turned 10:30 pm, but this town had already closed up for the night. He craned his neck past the rain streaming down the rear window, only a gas station at the end of the street bright enough to indicate life. "Great." Ed watched as the distant fluorescent lighting flickered off above the pumps. Thinking about the station made him remember how much ice tea he drank and Ed fidgeted in his seat once again as he wondered what was taking Joe so long.
With nothing to focus on, Ed's gaze centered on the small cabins in front of him. The exterior wood had probably started life a different color, but age and elements had oddly darkened the stain instead of lightened, and allowed the structures to blend into the over-growth of forest. Ed blinked and the black shapes swam before him, his imagination lending the inanimate shadows movement and menacing purpose. "Screw this," Ed muttered as he grasped the interior handle and ducked his head down against the rain. A short run to the office and Ed gratefully stumbled inside.
The outer screen door loudly smacked closed behind him and the lobby smelled musty and old. A tiny space heater roared to one side of the counter, concentrating the odor into the air instead of removing the dampness left by the summer rain. Ed thought of his Aunt Cheryl's basement, ripe with the ever-present smell of mildew and dog, and wondered when the last time the dingy, brown carpet under his feet had been cleaned. No one waited behind the counter; the only sign of industry some newspapers scattered across the top and one of those circular metal bells always visible in movies, but never in real life. Ed looked around for Joe's dark head of hair and brushed the water off his jacket sleeves.
"Come here." Joe stood at a wall covered in photographs to the left of the counter. "This place has been in business for over forty-five years. Some of these pictures are from the grand-opening."
"Sure smells like it," Ed said as the space heater coughed and died; the red of the glowing wires dulling back to gray. The mismatched display of chain store frames offended his hard-won sense of style and reminded him of the scattering of pictures along the hallway at his parent's house. Little thought had been given to the collection, each image stuck wherever space allowed and his fingers itched against the urge to re-arrange them.
Joe gazed at the wall with the same intense fascination he gave every useless roadside marker he insisted they stop and read, no pulling him away any time soon. Joe's interested voice indicated that his upbeat disposition had already moved on from their earlier disagreement and Ed wished he could as well. But his nagging apprehension of what lay at the end of the journey left him agitated and unable to let go of the smallest slight, no matter how foolish. "Can't we find somewhere else?"
Joe turned and draped his arm across Ed's shoulder. The heavy weight offered warm comfort and Ed longed to move closer despite his lingering annoyance. "I just want a shower and pillow for a few hours." Joe squeezed Ed up against his side and leaned over to whisper into his ear. "Come on, it will be an adventure. We can have hot, no-tell motel make-up sex."
"No one's on duty." Ed couldn't pinpoint why he was so hesitant but he didn't like the vibe of the place, even with Joe's salacious suggestion. The overhead lights flickered as the thermostat on the space heater turned the unit back on, and for a second the two of them stood in darkness. Ed couldn't help himself; his heart rate increased and he wrapped his fingers around the side of Joe's jacket and tugged at the wet material. Time for Joe to put his money where his mouth was. All Ed had to do was ask? He was asking. "Let's go."
Too late. Joe had already leaned across the counter and tapped the silver bell twice. The clear chime rang out at the same time the lights flickered again. Ed tightened his grip and scooted infinitesimally closer to Joe. He had a bad feeling about this.
Interested in how Ed and Joe first met? Hop over to www.chrissymunder.com, click on the Free Read tab, and enjoy First Impressions.
The Scenic Route by Chrissy Munder. Available from Dreamspinner PressBuy Link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=1804
Summary: It's the first time Ed Baldwin has ever taken his boyfriend Joe Sutton home to meet his parents, and nervous, he keeps trying to pick a fight with Joe to relieve his stress while they drive. When Joe's had enough they pull over in a very small town where the choice in motels only adds to Ed's anxiety. A series of strange happenings puts them back on the road sooner than expected, and it's at an all-night diner that they find out why the Easy Rest Motel didn't live up to its name. That's what Ed gets for letting Joe take the scenic route
Excerpt:
"Fine. Make a joke." Ed bit his lower lip as Joe drummed his long fingers on the steering wheel and let a few miles pass by in silence. "I'm too tired for this. We're stopping for the night."
"Here?" Ed glanced up and realized they had driven out of the darkness. From the scattered lighting he guessed they had entered the outskirts of a small community. "You're kidding me, right?"
In answer, Joe pulled over into a parking lot and turned the key to off. Ed listened to the tick of the cooling engine and gazed at the flash of neon announcing a vacancy at the Easy R st M tel. Ed puzzled out the name despite the missing letters and protested as soon as he took a glimpse past the sign. "No way. We can't stay here. This place is a dump."
Ed watched as Joe slammed the car door behind him, and ran through the rain toward the office entrance marked with a red arrow. "We're the only car, doesn't that tell you anything?" He yelled at Joe's retreating back.
The tall, outdoor fixture at the end of the parking lot offered a backdrop of yellowed glare, illuminating the individual drops of rain. Ed lowered his window and let the cooler air wash over him, inhaling the mixed aromas of car exhaust and wet earth. Viewed in the dim light the motel resembled the location used in a low-budget horror movie.
Years ago the tiny, individual log cabins nestled in the backdrop of dark woods had probably been the height of charming and rustic, now neglected and run down. Ed listened as the rain hit against the broken pavement and shivered. This was so not his idea of a good time. Even as a kid growing up in The U.P. he had instinctively hated anything to do with the woods and the inescapable sense something waited to pounce just out of his sight. Give him concrete, city lights and a respectable mugger any day.
"Never separate," Ed murmured as he rubbed his arms and raised the window once again. "Isn't that where things always go wrong in those movies?"
The clock set into the dashboard blinked as it turned 10:30 pm, but this town had already closed up for the night. He craned his neck past the rain streaming down the rear window, only a gas station at the end of the street bright enough to indicate life. "Great." Ed watched as the distant fluorescent lighting flickered off above the pumps. Thinking about the station made him remember how much ice tea he drank and Ed fidgeted in his seat once again as he wondered what was taking Joe so long.
With nothing to focus on, Ed's gaze centered on the small cabins in front of him. The exterior wood had probably started life a different color, but age and elements had oddly darkened the stain instead of lightened, and allowed the structures to blend into the over-growth of forest. Ed blinked and the black shapes swam before him, his imagination lending the inanimate shadows movement and menacing purpose. "Screw this," Ed muttered as he grasped the interior handle and ducked his head down against the rain. A short run to the office and Ed gratefully stumbled inside.
The outer screen door loudly smacked closed behind him and the lobby smelled musty and old. A tiny space heater roared to one side of the counter, concentrating the odor into the air instead of removing the dampness left by the summer rain. Ed thought of his Aunt Cheryl's basement, ripe with the ever-present smell of mildew and dog, and wondered when the last time the dingy, brown carpet under his feet had been cleaned. No one waited behind the counter; the only sign of industry some newspapers scattered across the top and one of those circular metal bells always visible in movies, but never in real life. Ed looked around for Joe's dark head of hair and brushed the water off his jacket sleeves.
"Come here." Joe stood at a wall covered in photographs to the left of the counter. "This place has been in business for over forty-five years. Some of these pictures are from the grand-opening."
"Sure smells like it," Ed said as the space heater coughed and died; the red of the glowing wires dulling back to gray. The mismatched display of chain store frames offended his hard-won sense of style and reminded him of the scattering of pictures along the hallway at his parent's house. Little thought had been given to the collection, each image stuck wherever space allowed and his fingers itched against the urge to re-arrange them.
Joe gazed at the wall with the same intense fascination he gave every useless roadside marker he insisted they stop and read, no pulling him away any time soon. Joe's interested voice indicated that his upbeat disposition had already moved on from their earlier disagreement and Ed wished he could as well. But his nagging apprehension of what lay at the end of the journey left him agitated and unable to let go of the smallest slight, no matter how foolish. "Can't we find somewhere else?"
Joe turned and draped his arm across Ed's shoulder. The heavy weight offered warm comfort and Ed longed to move closer despite his lingering annoyance. "I just want a shower and pillow for a few hours." Joe squeezed Ed up against his side and leaned over to whisper into his ear. "Come on, it will be an adventure. We can have hot, no-tell motel make-up sex."
"No one's on duty." Ed couldn't pinpoint why he was so hesitant but he didn't like the vibe of the place, even with Joe's salacious suggestion. The overhead lights flickered as the thermostat on the space heater turned the unit back on, and for a second the two of them stood in darkness. Ed couldn't help himself; his heart rate increased and he wrapped his fingers around the side of Joe's jacket and tugged at the wet material. Time for Joe to put his money where his mouth was. All Ed had to do was ask? He was asking. "Let's go."
Too late. Joe had already leaned across the counter and tapped the silver bell twice. The clear chime rang out at the same time the lights flickered again. Ed tightened his grip and scooted infinitesimally closer to Joe. He had a bad feeling about this.
Interested in how Ed and Joe first met? Hop over to www.chrissymunder.com, click on the Free Read tab, and enjoy First Impressions.
March 8, 2011
Happy Paczki Day!
For those who celebrate - enjoy! For those that know not of what I write? Get thee to Wikipedia = and then to Hamtramck before they are all gone.
March 3, 2011
Excerpt Thursday! Through the Mist from the Wishing on a Blue Star Anthology
I swear, I thought it was Wednesday today. Really. Today's featured excerpt is from Through the Mist, available in the amazing
Wishing on a Blue Star
Anthology.
In this compilation, short stories, poems, and anecdotes combined with excerpts from author Patric Michael's blog and a few entertaining, educational group posts reveal, and celebrate, the man who has touched so many hearts and minds.
I am truly proud and honored to have been a small part of this anthology. There's an amazing assortment of authors and stories ahead for the reader. And, of course, plenty of Patric himself.
Free download link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2157
Excerpt:
"Mark, will you wait up?" Jason Lomax glared after the swiftly disappearing back of his boyfriend. He tilted his head skyward and squeezed his water bottle, gulping the lukewarm liquid before pressing the cap down and shoving the plastic container into its clip. He didn't care what any newscaster had to say about El Niño weather patterns or global warming. The end of September in landscape scant miles away from Michigan's Upper Peninsula shouldn't be this warm.
Jason lowered the zipper at the neck of his breathable, wicking, supposedly temperature-controlling shirt and tightened the strap of his helmet. With a muttered exclamation, he shoved his feet back into the toe clips on his rented bike and pushed off, weaving for a second or two before he reacquired his balance and started off.
"This will be something we can do together," he mimicked Mark's words. The same ones used to cajole him into the trip. "A chance for us to get away and reconnect." Jason snorted. So far, the only thing to connect had been his sore ass to this bicycle seat while they pedaled around Mackinaw City and the surrounding area.
A car passed him, dirt and gravel kicked up in its wake. Jason lowered his head and listened to the pinging of the small stones against the fiberglass of his helmet. Thank God for sunglasses. And for the comfortable amenities of the hotel room, especially the Jacuzzi tub patiently waiting for their return.
Mark had wanted to try camping, tent and all. Jason shuddered at the thought. He could do rustic with the best of them, and build a mean campfire, thank you very much. But sometimes, he and Mark differed on levels of necessary comfort, and in his mind, the hot tub came high on the "necessary" list. The trip might have been a complete rainout instead of the unexpected heat wave, and a wet tent wasn't Jason's idea of a good time.
He'd admit the changing colors gave a spectacular show. Jason admired the vast array of red, gold, and fading green foliage surrounding him, fallen leaves covering the ground and crushed beneath his wheels. No wonder this area proudly displayed signs staking claim to being part of the designated Official State Color Tour in the fall.
Jason groaned, his thighs flexing as he painfully powered his way up the hill to the end of the street and the actual end of the road he traveled. Once stopped, he pushed escaping strands of sweat-soaked hair back under his helmet. God only knew the horrific display of hat head he'd sport when he removed the offending item of protection; his dark mop resembled a Brillo pad on the best of days.
He stared at the two directions available to him; both were dirt and gravel that promised nothing but effort he didn't want to expend before he read the sign. McGulpin Lighthouse was to his right, and the Headlands to his left. Jason wondered just what the heck a headlands was. Mark would know. This entire trip was a feast for his history and obscure-fact-loving soul, but Mark had taken off ahead of him.
A spray of gravel interrupted his directional debate as Mark's bike skidded to a stop beside him. Jason pushed again at his misbehaving hair and took a small measure of satisfaction in the gasping breaths his boyfriend needed to suck in before he spoke.
"The lighthouse is a little further up the road." Mark beamed a smile toward Jason. A wide, happy grin lit his face with excitement as he rocked his body, the wheels of his bicycle carving out a narrow trail in the dirt. "Cars are in the lot, so I think we can walk through."
"Great," Jason muttered under his breath. "Just what I wanted to do." He frowned, Mark's smile dimmed, and Jason knew the whole unhappy cycle of their relationship for the last several months had started once again. He couldn't blame Mark. If anything, Jason was the one who had failed to speak up when Mark first laid out his plans for the trip. Yes, he wished Mark had included him in the planning, but other than the tent, Jason had gone along with every suggestion, eager to make amends for the overtime hours he had spent on his last case. Definitely too little and too late to complain now.
Mark took off ahead of him, and Jason let his eyes focus on the sparse frame accented by the close-fitting material of his gear. Jason appreciated Mark's long lanky body: a natural athlete perched on the small bicycle seat. Totally unlike Jason, who was thick and blocky atop the vinyl saddle, unstable and unable to control the two wheels beneath him.
He liked cycling in theory. He and Mark made a point of watching the Tour de France every year. He just never felt comfortable on a bike once he put theory into practice. Mark assured him the ease would come with time, but Jason wondered how much longer he had to wait.
Jason glanced ahead of Mark and realized they had ridden up to another electrical power station in the middle of their nowhere. He couldn't help but be fascinated by the assortment of metal twisted into strange shapes and curves no one ever seemed to understand the purpose of.
He accepted the principles of electricity, the movement of the unseen current along copper wire, and the way the condensers and coils worked to step down the voltage for safe usage in the modern world. But he never got past the how. Who had been the first to figure this out? How had they put it into practice? His inner pragmatist didn't buy Ben Franklin with his key and homemade kite in the middle of a storm.
"We're almost there." Mark paused by the power station and grinned when Jason caught up to him. Mark held his sunglasses in his hand, face reddened from the influx of oxygenated blood. Jason couldn't help the little zing that ran through him. Mark shrugged off Jason's compliments, swearing his dark brown hair and matching eyes were average in appearance, but something about him had caught Jason's attention their first meeting and hadn't let go of him since.
This time, they pedaled off in tandem, Mark naming the wildflowers fighting for life in the cracked asphalt of the shoulder: chicory with blue, daisy-like blossoms and the ever-present Queen Anne's lace. Jason relaxed, enjoying Mark's unexpected attention. The brush framing the road grew taller, trees and weeds combining to form a thick barrier. They passed a dirt side street on the left and Mark slowed his pace, Jason instinctively following suit.
A large sign loomed on the right, announcing their destination as the brush became less dense, and Jason caught his first glimpse of a faded, yellow brick building and attached tower set back from the road. Three cars and a RV sat parked in the gravel lot. Jason came to a stop beside them. He shifted off his seat as his legs stretched thankfully down to the ground to secure his balance, mindful as always of the solid bar some sadistic soul had decided was a necessity on a man's bicycle.
"Look at that," Mark said excitedly as he hopped off and secured his bike in the waiting rack before taking off his helmet. Jason gingerly swung his leg over his own, and wheeled it to rest beside Mark's, uncomfortable as always as his first, few movements shifted the padding in his shorts. Oh, yeah. Fun times.
"Wasn't the building set too far back from the water to do any good?" Jason couldn't help but question. Every picture he had always seen of lighthouses showed them perched on some rocky coast.
"This place is amazing." Ignoring Jason, Mark rested his hands on hips as he surveyed the aged exterior, his eyes shining with excitement. "So full of history. Built in 1868, the lantern was first lit in 1869 and burned every night until deactivated in 1906."
"What happened then?" Jason asked, intrigued despite himself by Mark's excited recitation. His initial impression of the old lighthouse grounds proved disappointing. The grass, dried and browned by heat and lack of moisture. Someone had tried planting petunias along the side, but the plants had grown leggy, the blossoms small.
"The building was used as a private residence," Mark responded as Jason pulled off his helmet and shoved his hair off his face. "Then, in 2008, Emmet County purchased the lighthouse and started the restoration."
"Pretty cool," Jason conceded. "It must have been fun to grow up here as a kid." He followed Mark's example, dangling his helmet from the bike's handlebars, and walked across the gravel toward the side entrance.
"I know, right?" Mark's face brightened at Jason's contribution. He slid his arm around Jason's waist and pulled him close.
"So, the county turned the structure into a museum?" Jason asked as they reached the building. A small placard announced the hours of operation, and Jason couldn't resist petting the ginger-striped cat curled up in a large planting pot beside the step.
"Kind of." Mark opened the wooden, screened door for Jason. "Nothing here right now but photographic displays. Brian told me the full restoration would take years, but we shouldn't miss the chance to climb to the top of the tower."
Jason's good humor quickly evaporated. "Brian?" he questioned, as his body stiffened. He heard the stilted tone of his voice but couldn't help it. The two of them had met Brian on the second night of their stay while strolling a portion of the three-mile Historical Pathway laid out around the city. Mark insisted on stopping and reading every display marker they passed, and when Jason had taken advantage of Mark's distraction to use the restroom, Brian had walked up and introduced himself.
Brian had acknowledged Jason's reappearance with a rueful smile, but continued to direct his attention and historical tidbits toward Mark. Turned out the two of them were both history teachers, and they eagerly compared classroom notes and teaching techniques while Jason, a transactional lawyer by trade, trailed along behind, his unhappiness increasing with every step.
"Didn't I tell you?" Mark said, apparently oblivious to Jason's change in mood. "He's staying in our hotel. I ran across him when you were in the shower and I went to get us some bagels. He told me about the lighthouse and gave me directions."
In this compilation, short stories, poems, and anecdotes combined with excerpts from author Patric Michael's blog and a few entertaining, educational group posts reveal, and celebrate, the man who has touched so many hearts and minds.I am truly proud and honored to have been a small part of this anthology. There's an amazing assortment of authors and stories ahead for the reader. And, of course, plenty of Patric himself.
Free download link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2157
Excerpt:
"Mark, will you wait up?" Jason Lomax glared after the swiftly disappearing back of his boyfriend. He tilted his head skyward and squeezed his water bottle, gulping the lukewarm liquid before pressing the cap down and shoving the plastic container into its clip. He didn't care what any newscaster had to say about El Niño weather patterns or global warming. The end of September in landscape scant miles away from Michigan's Upper Peninsula shouldn't be this warm.
Jason lowered the zipper at the neck of his breathable, wicking, supposedly temperature-controlling shirt and tightened the strap of his helmet. With a muttered exclamation, he shoved his feet back into the toe clips on his rented bike and pushed off, weaving for a second or two before he reacquired his balance and started off.
"This will be something we can do together," he mimicked Mark's words. The same ones used to cajole him into the trip. "A chance for us to get away and reconnect." Jason snorted. So far, the only thing to connect had been his sore ass to this bicycle seat while they pedaled around Mackinaw City and the surrounding area.
A car passed him, dirt and gravel kicked up in its wake. Jason lowered his head and listened to the pinging of the small stones against the fiberglass of his helmet. Thank God for sunglasses. And for the comfortable amenities of the hotel room, especially the Jacuzzi tub patiently waiting for their return.
Mark had wanted to try camping, tent and all. Jason shuddered at the thought. He could do rustic with the best of them, and build a mean campfire, thank you very much. But sometimes, he and Mark differed on levels of necessary comfort, and in his mind, the hot tub came high on the "necessary" list. The trip might have been a complete rainout instead of the unexpected heat wave, and a wet tent wasn't Jason's idea of a good time.
He'd admit the changing colors gave a spectacular show. Jason admired the vast array of red, gold, and fading green foliage surrounding him, fallen leaves covering the ground and crushed beneath his wheels. No wonder this area proudly displayed signs staking claim to being part of the designated Official State Color Tour in the fall.
Jason groaned, his thighs flexing as he painfully powered his way up the hill to the end of the street and the actual end of the road he traveled. Once stopped, he pushed escaping strands of sweat-soaked hair back under his helmet. God only knew the horrific display of hat head he'd sport when he removed the offending item of protection; his dark mop resembled a Brillo pad on the best of days.
He stared at the two directions available to him; both were dirt and gravel that promised nothing but effort he didn't want to expend before he read the sign. McGulpin Lighthouse was to his right, and the Headlands to his left. Jason wondered just what the heck a headlands was. Mark would know. This entire trip was a feast for his history and obscure-fact-loving soul, but Mark had taken off ahead of him.
A spray of gravel interrupted his directional debate as Mark's bike skidded to a stop beside him. Jason pushed again at his misbehaving hair and took a small measure of satisfaction in the gasping breaths his boyfriend needed to suck in before he spoke.
"The lighthouse is a little further up the road." Mark beamed a smile toward Jason. A wide, happy grin lit his face with excitement as he rocked his body, the wheels of his bicycle carving out a narrow trail in the dirt. "Cars are in the lot, so I think we can walk through."
"Great," Jason muttered under his breath. "Just what I wanted to do." He frowned, Mark's smile dimmed, and Jason knew the whole unhappy cycle of their relationship for the last several months had started once again. He couldn't blame Mark. If anything, Jason was the one who had failed to speak up when Mark first laid out his plans for the trip. Yes, he wished Mark had included him in the planning, but other than the tent, Jason had gone along with every suggestion, eager to make amends for the overtime hours he had spent on his last case. Definitely too little and too late to complain now.
Mark took off ahead of him, and Jason let his eyes focus on the sparse frame accented by the close-fitting material of his gear. Jason appreciated Mark's long lanky body: a natural athlete perched on the small bicycle seat. Totally unlike Jason, who was thick and blocky atop the vinyl saddle, unstable and unable to control the two wheels beneath him.
He liked cycling in theory. He and Mark made a point of watching the Tour de France every year. He just never felt comfortable on a bike once he put theory into practice. Mark assured him the ease would come with time, but Jason wondered how much longer he had to wait.
Jason glanced ahead of Mark and realized they had ridden up to another electrical power station in the middle of their nowhere. He couldn't help but be fascinated by the assortment of metal twisted into strange shapes and curves no one ever seemed to understand the purpose of.
He accepted the principles of electricity, the movement of the unseen current along copper wire, and the way the condensers and coils worked to step down the voltage for safe usage in the modern world. But he never got past the how. Who had been the first to figure this out? How had they put it into practice? His inner pragmatist didn't buy Ben Franklin with his key and homemade kite in the middle of a storm.
"We're almost there." Mark paused by the power station and grinned when Jason caught up to him. Mark held his sunglasses in his hand, face reddened from the influx of oxygenated blood. Jason couldn't help the little zing that ran through him. Mark shrugged off Jason's compliments, swearing his dark brown hair and matching eyes were average in appearance, but something about him had caught Jason's attention their first meeting and hadn't let go of him since.
This time, they pedaled off in tandem, Mark naming the wildflowers fighting for life in the cracked asphalt of the shoulder: chicory with blue, daisy-like blossoms and the ever-present Queen Anne's lace. Jason relaxed, enjoying Mark's unexpected attention. The brush framing the road grew taller, trees and weeds combining to form a thick barrier. They passed a dirt side street on the left and Mark slowed his pace, Jason instinctively following suit.
A large sign loomed on the right, announcing their destination as the brush became less dense, and Jason caught his first glimpse of a faded, yellow brick building and attached tower set back from the road. Three cars and a RV sat parked in the gravel lot. Jason came to a stop beside them. He shifted off his seat as his legs stretched thankfully down to the ground to secure his balance, mindful as always of the solid bar some sadistic soul had decided was a necessity on a man's bicycle.
"Look at that," Mark said excitedly as he hopped off and secured his bike in the waiting rack before taking off his helmet. Jason gingerly swung his leg over his own, and wheeled it to rest beside Mark's, uncomfortable as always as his first, few movements shifted the padding in his shorts. Oh, yeah. Fun times.
"Wasn't the building set too far back from the water to do any good?" Jason couldn't help but question. Every picture he had always seen of lighthouses showed them perched on some rocky coast.
"This place is amazing." Ignoring Jason, Mark rested his hands on hips as he surveyed the aged exterior, his eyes shining with excitement. "So full of history. Built in 1868, the lantern was first lit in 1869 and burned every night until deactivated in 1906."
"What happened then?" Jason asked, intrigued despite himself by Mark's excited recitation. His initial impression of the old lighthouse grounds proved disappointing. The grass, dried and browned by heat and lack of moisture. Someone had tried planting petunias along the side, but the plants had grown leggy, the blossoms small.
"The building was used as a private residence," Mark responded as Jason pulled off his helmet and shoved his hair off his face. "Then, in 2008, Emmet County purchased the lighthouse and started the restoration."
"Pretty cool," Jason conceded. "It must have been fun to grow up here as a kid." He followed Mark's example, dangling his helmet from the bike's handlebars, and walked across the gravel toward the side entrance.
"I know, right?" Mark's face brightened at Jason's contribution. He slid his arm around Jason's waist and pulled him close.
"So, the county turned the structure into a museum?" Jason asked as they reached the building. A small placard announced the hours of operation, and Jason couldn't resist petting the ginger-striped cat curled up in a large planting pot beside the step.
"Kind of." Mark opened the wooden, screened door for Jason. "Nothing here right now but photographic displays. Brian told me the full restoration would take years, but we shouldn't miss the chance to climb to the top of the tower."
Jason's good humor quickly evaporated. "Brian?" he questioned, as his body stiffened. He heard the stilted tone of his voice but couldn't help it. The two of them had met Brian on the second night of their stay while strolling a portion of the three-mile Historical Pathway laid out around the city. Mark insisted on stopping and reading every display marker they passed, and when Jason had taken advantage of Mark's distraction to use the restroom, Brian had walked up and introduced himself.
Brian had acknowledged Jason's reappearance with a rueful smile, but continued to direct his attention and historical tidbits toward Mark. Turned out the two of them were both history teachers, and they eagerly compared classroom notes and teaching techniques while Jason, a transactional lawyer by trade, trailed along behind, his unhappiness increasing with every step.
"Didn't I tell you?" Mark said, apparently oblivious to Jason's change in mood. "He's staying in our hotel. I ran across him when you were in the shower and I went to get us some bagels. He told me about the lighthouse and gave me directions."
March 1, 2011
Head Cold Ramblings...Charlie Sheen and Lucky Charms
So much for the hope we'd avoid the dreaded February scourge. Ergh. To distract myself, I've been contemplating a few random issues. #1 - Why does every television, web, or radio channel I turn to have hourly Charlie Sheen updates, but I have to actively search for the tiniest bit of news re: New Zealand and the aftermath of the earthquake? That's a fail for me, media coverage.
#2 - WTF happened to Lucky Charms cereal? To recently celebrate a household success we purchased a roughly $6 box of Lucky Charms cereal. Trust me, you're better off not asking. But the horror! Remember when the marshmallows had actual shapes? While pleased to find that the ratio of marshmallow (marbits - did you know they had a name?) to oaty bits were more in balance than the last time we splurged, said marshmallow bits are just gross amorphous blobs. No more pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers here.
Thank goodness Wikipedia was able to explain here.
Obviously a sign we need to get out more when it comes to our cereal purchases.
#2 - WTF happened to Lucky Charms cereal? To recently celebrate a household success we purchased a roughly $6 box of Lucky Charms cereal. Trust me, you're better off not asking. But the horror! Remember when the marshmallows had actual shapes? While pleased to find that the ratio of marshmallow (marbits - did you know they had a name?) to oaty bits were more in balance than the last time we splurged, said marshmallow bits are just gross amorphous blobs. No more pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, and green clovers here.
Thank goodness Wikipedia was able to explain here.
Obviously a sign we need to get out more when it comes to our cereal purchases.
