Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 67

Zzzz...

New AudioBook OutSo, I don't have much to report, mostly because, after what feels like a month of heavy duty weekends--way back to frickin' RT, it feels like-- this weekend had an empty day.

Like, nothing to do today.

Now, I was going to make a go at folding clothes, butt, uh, the two naps got in the way.

You heard me.

Two.

No walkies.

No shopping.

Mate took ZoomBoy to a mini-rehearsal and to a birthday party. I picked him up.

The. End.

I probably could have made the day busy.

I could have written 3K.

I could have written a ficlet.

I could definitely have cleaned something.

What I chose to do--between naps--was watch movies and work on Chicken's sweater. I had to rip out the sleeve twice to get it to fit, but I think this third time was the charm.  Either way--I think I'm gonna leave it as is. If she has to tell people I made it like a bat for a reason, I'm down with that.

And that's the end.

I may try to make my word quota tonight, but honestly? If I'm falling asleep? I'm just gonna go.

Cause if you hit a wall after a month and a half of running, it's best to just lie there for a little and catch your breath before charging through it and heading for the next wall down the line.

A Punny Day

Well, not really.

Actually it was a BUSY day.

Took Squish to school, came home.

Mate had picked Chicken up and brought her home (her car was in the shop) so I took her to work.

Came home.

Picked ZoomBoy up.

Came home.

Picked Squish up.

Came home.

NAPPED.

Went to recital rehearsal.

Volunteered and was basically ignored by the lady I was supposed to be there to help. I mean I helped, but she was NOT friendly. The kids weren't either-- they knew here and not me. Uncomfortable. Seriously.

But that didn't mean I didn't meet some old friends.

For example, Barry, who is the father to two grown children that I've watched grow up over the past nineteen years. His birthday was tonight, and he was wearing a T-shirt that said, "60 Years, the Legend Begins, 1957-2017". We gave him a fair amount of grief for this, by the way, and he took it with a smile.

And then I said, "Wait!  Does that mean from now on we call you 'Legend-Barry'?"

He wasn't sure whether to kill me or hug me. He settled on the hug, but then Mate wrote "Legend" over his name on his name tag and Chicken called him Legend-Barry.

I"m pretty sure he wished he'd gone for kill.

Heh heh heh.

So, being on a roll, when my friend told me she was having stomach problems, I responded with a perfectly innocent, "I'm sorry. That blows."

She DEFINITELY wanted to kill me.

And then ZoomBoy said, "Mom, I bet I can say the alphabet faster than you. You go first."

So I said, "The alphabet."

"Dammit!"

Seriously-- I couldn't lose.

Not that tomorrow won't be busy and will probably suck and people who don't like/don't know me are going to be asking me to do things again--but that's okay.

Today was a genuinely punny day.  We only get so many, right?

Awards Day

So the kids are getting out of school and today was their second to last day of school, and there were awards.

I have grown to be leery of awards.

I always dream of getting them--the "creative comeback to imaginary insults" award is my absolute favorite, followed by the, "yes, your life is so hard and you bear it with such grace" award. So far, none of those have been forthcoming and I live in disappointment.  I shall just have to bear up and assume someone out there is doing those things better, and be glad that those stations are filled with such power, grace, and style.

But when I was a kid I got scads of awards.

I got the "You know your place function" award for math in the fourth grade, and the "nice suckup kid" award for students who didn't really get along with their own peer group in sixth grade. I thought my crowning achievement in the awards department would be the "benchwarmer" award--also known as "Best Sportsmanship"-- received in the 8th grade.  I got it on the merit of being the worst athlete in the school, and yet joining every sport.

Every sport.

My basketball coach told me I was the third string of a nine-woman basketball team.

She thought she was being nice.

But I loved that award--that was even better than placing 6th in the district spelling bee and getting to say Benediction at 8th grade graduation, because I had the 9th highest GPA in three grammar schools.

And by the way, if these awards are inspiring you with my mediocrity, I confirm that with my final two awards-- two years of perfect attendance in high school and "Most Disorganized Senior" of my graduating year.

Yeah.

I was stunning in the awards department.

So I'd almost forgotten awards season in the Jr. High and the Grammar School.

Until today.

When ZoomBoy showed up with blue lips and a medal.

The medal was for Most Improved in PE-- he was so proud. There were two best athlete awards and one Most Improved, and given what I have obviously passed down to my children in the way of physical prowess, I told Mate that we were going to have to take that as the only win we'd get--and that we should be proud.

I mean, DAMNED proud, because it meant somebody recognized all the work he does, trying to be the best he can be.

His blue lips were proof of the other award--sour candy, because he got his straw rocket to perform four different target tricks. He got a package of candy for each trick, and had one package for himself and three to share with his friends.

Did I mention damned proud?  (I seem to remember him getting an award last year for thinking outside the box and asking super questions. ZoomBoy--forever an original, right?)

And then Squish showed up with a light up purple squinchy thing that she got for being "The student with the most gratitude."

She also got recognition in class for being "Student most likely to cheer someone up."

Did I mention that when we went to see her State Report during Open House, I was a little disappointed? It seemed to be lacking some detail, but when I asked the teacher about it, she said, "Oh yes--Squish did a great job on her poster. I think she wanted to do more, but there was a line of students next to her desk, asking her if they'd done theirs right, and she helped everybody she could."

So today she was recognized for apparently being the best Squish a mom could ask for.

So there you go. Awards day. I have not gotten my "Best Writer In All of Creation" award, nor have I received notice of my "Creative Comeback in the Face of Imaginary Insults" award.

But today, my kids brought home their "Best Kids In All of Creation" awards, which, for me, translates into, the "You may have lived a life of mediocrity but your children are spectacular and superlative and you are blessed every day you know them" award.

I accept this award with my husband, holding it for safekeeping. Someday we'll pass it back to our beautiful children, grown, and, I hope, as happy in their lives as their father and I.

We really DO have the Best Kids In All of Creation.

Vulnerable, Free, Today Only

You can get it free in LOTS OF PLACES-- go check out the book that started it all...

https://www.bookbub.com/books/vulnerable-by-amy-lane-2017-06-05?ebook_deal&email=other_retailers&mid=1-14392-10761110

And remember-- the final book of the series is coming out next week!



https://www.amazon.com/Quickening-Vol-Little-Goddess-Book-ebook/dp/B072BPMDLG/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8

*Kermit Flail* June Edition!

So wow. 
May was something of a frickin' month, right? 
We had RT at the beginning and Pride at the end (well, yesterday, so the beginning of June) and we had all sorts of adventures in between. 
But as always, we have new releases, and that's damned exciting. 
We're entering into recital season, and I actually FORGOT to solicit Kermit Flail last week--but some awesome people-- Cody Kennedy, Anne Barwell & Lou Sylvre, and the ever lovely, ever dynamic and graceful Jaime Samms, all conspired to save me from myself!  C. Kennedy has offered up book three of an award winning series, Elpida, and it looks haunting. Anne and Lou have offered Sunset and Pencarrow, and besides the cover art--mmm... -- it's based in New Zealand--and how can you lose? And Jaime Samms offers us a chance at love again with Off Stage: Beyond the Footlights. 
So lovely offerings--and I have a few myself!
A new audiobook (Deep of the Sound) for starters, but even more exciting? Well, part 2 of Quickening--and, yes, the end of the series for a while. People have asked me if I plan to write any more of the Little Goddess--and it's hard to answer that. On the one hand, I love this series and I had much more planned. On the other, well, girl's gotta eat. So I ended this book in a good place. The hint of new adventures to come is definitely there--but if they don't? We have a moment of contentment, and the feeling that our heroes and heroine will live in peace and kindness for many years to come. 
Now, for those of you who haven't read The Little Goddess, WATCH THIS SPACE. On June 6th, there will be a chance to read Vulnerable, Part 1 of the series, for free on BookBub. I'll post a link and a graphic THE MINUTE I have it, and hopefully, you'll be so much in love with Cory et al that you'll want to see the rest of their adventures!
Oh!
And Cory isn't my only new addition. 
The sequel to The Virgin Manny will be out on July 1st!  So take a look at Manny Get Your Guy-- the hero on the cover is Taylor, the rather aggressive young upstart from Virgin Manny, and I think you all will love him!
So, there you go. LOTS of good stuff! Let's hear it for the end of school and recital season and a thousand reasons to pull up a good book and curl up in the air conditioning--or in the shade--and read. 
YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAAY!!!!!!!!!!



Elpida: Book Three
by C. Kennedy

Michael and Christy attended prom, graduated high school, and Michael leads the USATF tryouts. With Oxford University on the horizon, his future looks bright, and he believes life has returned to normal after Christy’s rescue. He couldn’t be more wrong.

Christy has been free from a life of slavery for more than a year and has made remarkable progress due in no small part to the love he found with Michael. But the recent prosecution of a past abuser has shattered the life he so painstakingly built out of nothing but a mountain of horror. He now faces the daunting task of building a new life—yet again.

Twelve-year-old Thimi has been missing since Christy left Greece and, unbeknownst to everyone, has hidden out in a vacant mansion in Glyfada. Learning of Christy’s survival is the only thing that brings him out of hiding. People, open spaces, even the most common of sounds frighten him beyond reason. A mere ghost of a boy, Thimi arrives in the US with no knowledge of the outside world—the only constant in his life a purple marble.

Lost, shattered, and afraid, only hope gives them the strength and courage they need to begin anew.
Buy Link















Sunset at Pencarrow by Lou Sylvre and Anne Barwell
World of Love—New Zealand
Kiwi Nathaniel Dunn is in a fighting mood, but how does a man fight Wellington’s famous fog? In the last year, Nate’s lost his longtime lover to boredom and his ten-year job to the economy. Now he’s found a golden opportunity for employment where he can even use his artistic talent, but to get the job, he has to get to Christchurch today. Heavy fog means no flight, and the ticket agent is ignoring him to fawn over a beautiful but annoying, overly polite American man.
Rusty Beaumont can deal with a canceled flight, but the pushy Kiwi at the ticket counter is making it difficult for him to stay cool. The guy rubs him all the wrong ways despite his sexy working-man look, which Rusty notices even though he’s not looking for a man to replace the fiancé who died two years ago. Yet when they’re forced to share a table at the crowded airport café, Nate reveals the kind heart behind his grumpy façade. An earthquake, sex in the bush, and visits from Nate’s belligerent ex turn a day of sightseeing into a slippery slope that just might land them in love.
Buy Link 














Off State: Beyond the Footlightsby Jaime Samms
Kilmer and Jacko’s relationship has been foundering for a long time. With the end in sight and despairing that he might never find a Dom who suits him, Kilmer heads to a local bar to drown his sorrows—and meets country singer Tanner.

Tanner feels oddly protective of the broken man and eventually convinces Kilmer to hire him to help remodel the small, sad house Kilmer once shared with Jacko. As Tanner and Kilmer get to know each other, Kilmer regains his lost independence and Tanner’s dominant streak rises to the surface. But will it be a help or a hindrance to the trust they’re trying to build?

The answer might lie in the music Kilmer gave up not long after he met Jacko. Music always granted him solace, clarity, and an outlet for his emotions, and with Tanner’s encouragement, he picks up where he left off. Playing together eases them into honest communication, and though a happily ever after will still take patience and work, taking a chance on each other sounds sweeter with every note.

Buy Link













The Deep of the Sound/Audiobookby Amy Lanenarrated by Nick J. Russo

Cal McCorkle has lived in Bluewater Bay his whole life. He works two jobs to support a brother with a laundry list of psychiatric diagnoses and a great-uncle with Alzheimer's, and his personal life amounts to impersonal hookups with his boss. He's got no time, no ambition, and no hope. All he has is family, and they're killing him one responsibility at a time.

Avery Kennedy left Los Angeles, his family, and his sleazy boyfriend to attend a Wolf's Landing convention, and he has no plans to return. But when he finds himself broke and car-less in Bluewater Bay, he's worried he'll have to slink home with his tail between his legs. Then Cal McCorkle rides to his rescue, and his urge to run away dies a quick death.

Avery may seem helpless at first, but he can charm Cal's fractious brother, so Cal can pretty much forgive him anything. Even being adorkable. And giving him hope. But Cal can only promise Avery "until we can't" - and the cost of changing that to "until forever" might be too high, however much they both want it.
Buy Link



















Quickening 
by Amy Lane
Little Goddess: Book Five
Volume Two

The elf queen who infected the werewolf population isn’t going away—and neither are the two heartbeats that will soon be the children in Cory’s arms.

Cory’s used to throwing herself physically into the fray, but as their enemy gets closer and more dangerous, she’s forced to choose between her safety and the people sworn to protect her. Her guardians are tired of worrying about Cory and her unborn children, and Cory is getting plain tired.

The preternatural world isn’t her only worry—basic human birthing rituals are going to be a pain in the ass for a woman whose children will be sidhe. Cory’s mother is still fuzzy on the concept of a polyamorous multispecies marriage and sets her up with an OBGYN obsessed with the inhuman silhouettes of her babies.

Cory doesn’t want her children born in the middle of a turf war, but the people she and Green have nurtured and fought for aren’t about to let her face this enemy alone. This battle is for queen and home, and the babies quickening in Cory’s body are a symbol of hope. Cory’s going to have to give up the idea of being a weapon and embrace the idea of being a mother, or she’ll let down those depending on her most.

Buy Link





Manny Get Your Guy
by Amy Lane

The Mannies
Starting over and falling in love.
Tino Robbins’s sister, Nica, and her husband, Jacob, are expecting their fifth child. Fortunately, Nica’s best friend, Taylor Cochran, is back in town, released from PT and in need of a job.

After years in the service and recovering from grave injury, Taylor has grown a lot from the callow troublemaker he’d been in high school. Now he’s hoping for a fresh start with Nica and her family.

Jacob’s cousin Brandon lives above the garage and thinks “Taylor the manny” is a bad idea. Taylor might be great at protecting civilians from a zombie apocalypse, but is he any good with kids?

Turns out, Taylor’s a natural. As he tries to fit in, using common sense and dry wit, Brandon realizes that Taylor doesn’t just love their family—he’s desperate to be part of it. And just like that, Brandon wants Taylor to be part of his future.
Pre-Sale Link 


OH-- And a cover reveal!!

Another Weekend Bites the Dust!

 Okay-- so bullet points again, cause LATE!

*  Pride was Saturday, and it was lovely. Squish asked to go, and I told her I'd scope it out to see what it was like--I know some cities have a more family oriented Pride, and for some cities, they have more of a mostly naked young men in banana-hammock pride. Sacramento's Pride is the first kind, and the people were happy to be there.

And boy was everybody excited to see books!

We were parked right next to the Lavender Library, and I was proud to donate books that didn't get sold to them--and they were delightful neighbors.

*  Today I went and saw Wonder Woman, because besides being a kick-ass action movie, and giving me a tremendous girl crush on Gal Godot, it also had one of my favorite Chrises in it.

Mmm...

Chris.

And seriously-- there was no "best part of the movie"--it was all AMAZING. And the theme was one of my personal favorites.

So, yes. A good time!

*  I took Squishy with me when I went walking this morning--she looks lovely out in the sunshine, doesn't she?

Texted these pictures to my friend Karen, and she was like, "Who gave her permission to get so big?"

Damned kid apparently didn't need any permission, but since her hair is also growing, I'm going to let it slide.

*yawn*

And that's the condensed version!

On to tomorrow--I need to recover from my weekend!
 

Mulberry Street and an appearance at Pride

[image error] Remember that Dr. Seuss book? And to Think That I Saw it on Mulberry Street? Where the kid sees stuff and plans to make it into something bigger and more exciting to tell his dad, but he always chickens out and just talks about the old horse and cart and that's al the saw?

Yeah, blogging is the exact opposite of that.

In blogging, you take the old horse and cart and you make it AS EXCITING AS POSSIBLE and tell EVERYBODY.

, that being said-- here are some things I saw on Mulberry Street today...

* A man with his head shaved bald and the back of it inked like Killroy, leaving his fatback to be the mouth, was facing away from me as I walked into the AT&T store today. Clever? Yes. Disturbing? That too.

* I almost ran over that guy when he tried to cross the road right behind a big garden truck that crossed between us. Oops! Sorry Killroy.

*  Mate dosed all the animals with flea control tonight, and now they're all sucking up to me to save them. Little do they know, I am the driving force BEHIND flea control!

*  ZoomBoy started calling the feeding of the cats "ending the great famine".  I think our cats and their flare for melodrama have possibly had an effect. (Yes, Amy, it's the cats.)

[image error] *  I had just gone down for a nap today when the big kids come over and raided our house. Seriously--sleeping bag, a pair of flip-flops, and an entire bowl of chicken teriyaki with vegetables, all of it, disappeared into their car while I managed to get up and put on my pants. I only WISH Groucho Marx said that having children is like getting robbed EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK. (We'd still have them, but we'd know. We'd totally know.)

*  And I had other weirdness to make out of both ing, but I am TOTALLY falling asleep, so I'll leave you with this--

The QSAC will be at Sacramento Pride this Saturday-- J. Scott Coatsworth, Pat Henshaw, Kim Fielding, L.E. Franks, D. L. Kent, Michael C. Shutz, Genevieve Wolfe and I will be at a vending booth on J street if you want to come by, visit the Pride Celebration and everything, by all means do! We'd love to see you there :-)

Amy

In The History of Minutiae...

Okay--

So, I'm tired--it's Wednesday, and our week is about to get REALLY hectic with recital, and, *yawn*.  So I had this Berkley Breathed cartoon I wanted to talk about, and then I searched for it, and then I searched for something else, and then I thought, gee... I wonder what my browser history looks like... and then I realized I had no idea how to find that (and no, good meaning people, you don't need to tell me HOW to find it--I found the button to CLEAR it which is just as good.)

But I wondered what I'd find in my browser history if I looked from today..and sort of filled it in by memory--

Heh heh... Well, it's probably a little bit edited for humorous purposes.

And I spend WAY too much time on Twitter--

Ready? Begin--

* * *

Gay erotica  (Pretty sure you're not surprised.)

AO3--Stucky

Twitter

AO3--Stony

Facebook

AO3--Johnlock

Twitter

SuperBat--Images

FaceBook

Fingering--Images

Yarn.com--fingering weight  (oops! Good thing I'm not easily shocked by that last one)

Yarn.com--bulky weight

Timothy Bottoms (The Paper Chase was on, but, uh, in context, that doesn't look very good does it?)

Corbin Fisher (Okay--that was on purpose)

Upworthy--From Twitter, a long political thing that made my eyes glaze over

Did anybody explain the "convfefe" tweet?

Can Al Franken run for president?

Who owns the RiverCats?

Bloom County

New Bloom County

Bill Waterston

Fox Trot

Dilbert

The Oatmeal

We Rate Dogs

Buzzfeed--Cats

Does Buzzed have pictures of adorable baby goats too?

Animals in general?

Ooh... Possum sock yarn!

Mm... cashmere sock yarn

Qiviut sock yarn!

Storage containers

Potpourri

Natural bug repellent qualities of potpourri

Housecleaning services

*sigh* How's my book doing again?  

Not that good... organizational tips!

Wait...

Oh shit.

Word!

I should have been writing for an hour and a half!

Oh-- what was I writing about again?  Johnnies.

Bobby is a carpenter.

How long does it take to heal from a puncture wound?

Ew. Gross. Pictures. *sigh* 

And... 

Word.

You Know Who You Are

ZoomBoy sang in choir tonight, and that was sort of neat-- it was a combined choir of the junior high and all the high school choirs-- but I must say, my mind wandered HORRIBLY during the singing. (I'd heard a lot of it before.)

So, I was wrestling plot bunny after plot bunny, and in the meantime, SOMEBODY posted a meme SOMEWHERE specifically where I would see it, and intimated I MIGHT know what she wanted.

So you know who you are.

This is for you.

*  *  *

It took a year and a half before Jared could walk without a cane, but he did a lot in that year.

Physical Therapy, every day. Gym, pool, personal trainer--he did it all--even though Dawson whined bitterly about the diet it took for him to not gain wait, it was worth it. Someday--someday--he would fly again. And if he didn't fly high enough or fast enough to perform professionally, that was okay. That wasn't why he flew in the first place.

He found studio space, and, with the help of Dawson, Benji, Daria, and Amber--and Dawson's dad, of course-- managed to lay hard rubber for the stage, layer the walls with acoustic tile so the sound didn't echo, and, one pane at a time, install the giant mirror and the barre.

The space was small--but two classes a day paid the overhead, and three classes a day let him pay for rent.

He advertised at the local grammar school, gave fliers to the special ed teachers, talked to the local community centers--by six months, he had outreach classes at the community centers and needed to hire Daria to teach after school classes there.

Six days a week, he came home to Dawson, exhausted, sore, and... oddly enough, happy.

He wasn't counting on the mom-ager and her superspawn to walk into the studio when he had his 8-12 year old class of moderately to severe handicapped students at the barre.

There were only eight of them, but they were challenging enough that he'd recruited volunteers from the college physical education programs to come help. It was something for their resumes, he'd said, and he'd been blessed with three young and able people, two young men and a young woman, who seemed to genuinely like the kids and read his cues for how to help them adjust awkward, stiff-tendoned, loose-muscled limbs into the stretches that would help them while dancing.

If the studio could just do a little better, be a little more in the black, he'd maybe get salaries for them all.

So when the obviously well-heeled woman in a business suit walked in, his first thought was "Sponsor!" and then he saw her son, wearing jazz pants, with a dance bag over his shoulder and a superior smirk on his face, and the thought changed to, "Douchebag!"

Suddenly, he wished for Dawson.

Dawson could awkward his way through this situation no problem. He could stand up for Jared's kids and get this woman to sponsor a class without pausing for breath. But all Jared could do was push himself over, cane in hand because it was the end of the day, and wait until the musical selection ended.

"Everybody, take five, but don't stop moving!" he ordered. This was actually the fun part, because the kids would do what they thought was dancing--whirling in endless pinwheel loops, leap with heavy bodies in jumps with no name, execute simple pedestrian maneuvers no dance teacher had ever seen before--it was dancing without the rules, and sometimes his kids needed that with everything in their souls.

"Hi," he said, remembering the days when a quiet smile at a cocktail party would get his manager into his next gig. "Welcome to Emory-Barnes studio, I'm Jared Emory." He smiled softly as Hannah, a sweet little girl with springy pom-pom pigtails and a soft, pear-shaped body did a passable pirouette to music only she heard. "What can I do for you?"

"This is a dance studio?" the woman said, lip pulled back.

"Yes," he said with dignity. "This particular class is for children with moderate to severe mental and physical handicaps."

"And you teach them to dance?" The skepticism in her voice started his stomach churning. His little sister had loved dancing--nobody told her that kids with Downs Syndrome couldn't dance, so she never had to doubt herself.

"Everybody should dance," he said with a quiet, determined smile. A little desperately, he caught the boy's eye. "Don't you think?"

And he saw it--the moment when the boy recognized him.

"Jared Emory," he said blankly.

"Yes." Oh hell.

"The Jared Emory."

"Yes."

"I... I own three DVD's with your performances," the kid burbled. "I've seen every YouTube video ever made with you. I've..."  He looked at the cane then, eyes wide. "I saw you fall."

It took a lot for Jared to take the next breath. "The whole world saw me fall," he said ruefully.

"That's why you never came back?"  He must have been fifteen, this kid, with dark hair and green eyes. Black brows arched expressively over dark lashes, and a little bow-stung mouth made him a stunner, probably even without makeup from the stage.

"I could have come back for a season," Jared admitted, "but I never would have danced again. So I decided to build up the knee--I might not dance professionally again, but someday, I'll dance."  He tried not to admit to Dawson how much being earthbound weighed on his bones. In the pool, or when watching his students dance, he could fly.

"But..." The kid bit his lip and looked around at Jared's twirling, giggling students. "Why... why..."

"Everybody should dance," Jared told him, believing it. "Everybody should fly."

The kid's face lit up. "Yes." He looked at his mother, who seemed to smell something bad. "Do you... do you have any advanced classes?" he asked apprehensively. "I... my last teacher was..." He shuddered.

"I've had those," Jared said, understanding that. "I used to throw up before practice."

The boy nodded, his neck suddenly thin and vulnerable. "I puked blood," he whispered.

"I'll tell you what," Jared said, gauging the way the kid seemed to smile indulgently at his students. "If you want to help me out, I can help you out."

"What do you mean?" his mother asked, suddenly engaged.

"I mean my interns are doing this for semester credit, and I won't have a helper here over the summer. My boyfriend can come in some days, and his best friend, and my other employee--but it's not locked in stone. If--"  He looked at the boy meaningfully.

"Todd," the boy said, smiling like he got it.

"If Todd can come in, this day, this time, and help me out through the summer, I'll stay after for two hours and instruct him special. I have an advanced class three days a week, but the two hours of lessons is only open to a few kids. I want to start having recitals next summer, and I need some dancers who can lead the rest of the studio."

The idea had been fermenting in the back of his head since they'd opened in January, a year after his fall, but it hadn't fully coalesced until right now.

"Couldn't I just pay you--" the mom began, but Jared shook his head, and, surprisingly, Todd cut her off.

"Everyone should dance," he said shortly. "Mom. He's right. Everyone should dance."

They finalized the particulars after Jared stretched the class and had them cool down, but he had such hope burning in his chest--he couldn't even articulate it, not to himself.

But he found, later that night, as he and Dawson were stretched out in front of the television, he could find the words.

"I don't even know where we'll perform," he said, his voice catching at the end of the spiel. "But I'm giving those private lessons, and the other kids know who the superstars are, and all they want to do is perform, and--"

"That's a great idea!" Dawson exclaimed, waking up from a semi-stupor on Jared's chest. "You can petition one of the local high schools to use the gym and I can run the lights and the sound and the curtain and--"

And just like that, Jared saw where his hope came from, where the faith that this was a good thing. He captured Dawson's mouth with his own, holding his cheeks until the slow burn of passion replaced Dawson's enthusiasm, and he fell into the kiss with fervor.

Jared turned him, until Dawson was sprawled on his back, grinding up agains Jared, stripping off Jared's shirt because not being skin-to-skin would hurt.

"Where's Amber?" Jared panted.

"At her girlfriend's," Dawson answered. That was happening more and more--they were starting to feel bad taking Amber's rent money, but reluctant to break up the terrible trio.

"She'd better knock if she comes back," Jared panted. He fumbled with the button to Dawson's 501's and Dawson helped by lifting his ass up and then pulling his knees up to his chin so Jared could strip them off, along with his underwear.

And there he was--pale and slender, surprisingly muscular, but still not filled out. His pink little nipples stood up from his white chest like a surprise, and flat moles still marked him in unusual places.

He was beautiful, like a swan, or the clouds from eye level.

Jared lowered his head to take a nipple into his mouth, and felt the leadenness of earth fall from his limbs. Dawson grunted and flailed, still not graceful when they made love, but it didn't matter. As Jared worked his way down that soft-skinned body to the wealth of hair--and of cock--at Dawson's groin, he guided Dawson's hands back to his own nipples so they'd have something useful to do.

He wanted to take that cock into his mouth and play it unmercifully. He wanted Dawson to come down his throat so hard he saw stars and sailed in the night sky for hours.

He planned to thrust inside that willing body while Dawson wrapped long arms and legs around him, and together they would hit the stratosphere and float gently down.

His knee would never be perfect--but this man, this love, this happiness between them--this would let him fly. When he healed completely, and could dance with his kids and in his own performances, he could fly again on stage.

But here, in Dawson's arms, he could fly forever.

He stripped and found Dawson's entrance, pushing in as Dawson told the entire apartment building, again, that they were having sex.

Swans were mean creatures, sometimes carnivorous in their urge to be the strongest, the most elite, the most beautiful.

Jared would find joy flying with the ducks.

So, today's weirdness...

So, today was sort of a day of rest. The fam has been going balls out, and seriously-- a day to just chill was needed. But that didn't stop us from entertaining ourselves...

*  I woke up early this morning--but tired. Given that this was a day of chillaxing, I decided to go back to bed. Which was when my phone blew up with lots and lots of people wanting to text/IM and so I rolled out of bed, sucked it up, took a shower, and got the dogs ready to go walking.

When I went into the bedroom to tell Mate I was leaving, he was in bed, asleep in his clothes.

Apparently, I broke protocol.


*  So, before I left to walk the dogs, I was in the bathroom in the back of the house, when my phone rings. It's Chicken, calling as she waits to start work. The fanfic she was reading had gone hideously wrong, and she needed--NEEDED--a sympathetic ear. I listened, and then I frowned. "Hey, weren't you supposed to drop your brother off before you went to work?"

"Yeah, Mom-- he's there."

"Wait-- Big T is here?"

And then Mate--who has heard the whole conversation-- says, "Yeah, he's here. You may want to get out of the bathroom and join the day."

* When I got back from the walk--expecting Mate to be asleep and the kids to be playing video games--I was about 1/4 right.

ZoomBoy had gotten an invitation from one of the kids he plays Overwatch with on a regular basis. The kid wanted ZB to go play in his pool, and since Mate knew his parents from work, THEY were getting ready to go there. Big T was done with laundry and ready for me to take him home.

And Squish? Squish was sitting crosslegged on the couch, playing video games.

"Squish, how about you. Do you have anything you want to do today?"

She waved a hand around her general aura of contentment. "This."

"Groovy. I'll be back in a few."

And I have to admit-- she was pretty happy at the end of the day.

*  On my way back from dropping Big T off, I stopped at my LYS. Unlike the LAST time I stopped at an LYS, in Medford, I had a specific thing I wanted--namely baby blanket yarn.

Anyway, I as I walked in, I saw stacks upon stacks of yarn for sale.

I said out loud--for Babetta the proprietess to hear me-- "This, she said to herself as she entered, could be a tactical error."

Babetta was tickled, and we had a conversation about yarn (what else?) and I showed her the above picture and asked if she still carried that fiber artist. She didn't--but she was looking at ways to order from her, and she told me something interesting.

"That was made by dyeing a blank," she said.

And then she explained. In order to get gradient yarn like that, one method is to use a knitting machine to knit a wide panel of plain stockinet stitch knitting-- a blank-- and then to dye the panel in stages, and rewind the yarn from the panel.

Now I know a few years ago, there was a company that made the blanks into a scarf-size, dyed them, and then sold them with the option of knitting right from the blank, and I have to tell you--

I think that's amazing.

*  So, I missed my morning nap, but I made it up after I got back from the yarn store. I had JUST closed my eyes when I got a text from Mate-- "Ilene the soccer treasurer might stop by."

"I'm napping."

"Never mind."

So, when he got back from the pool party, he told me he read the text and told his friend, "Oops, she's napping. I'll make other plans."

"If she's napping, how does she answer your text."

"Man, I don't know--but once she tells me she's napping I give her at least an hour before I bother her again. Maybe an hour and a half."

"Oh. So. Napping."

"Oh yeah."

* * *

So there you go--

A very odd little day.

But you have to admit... twas very chill.