Amy Lane's Blog: Writer's Lane, page 85

Little Moments, Big Memories

 A few random snippets from Yaoi-Con--

Me to Kim Fielding via Text: I'm here--where are you?

Kim: Venona and I went on a walk to the Marriott.  Where are you?

Me: At the Hyatt.

Kim: But we went to the Marriott to see you!

Me: Uh-oh...
 * * *
Roget to me: Where are you?

Me: Max's Opera Cafe, eating dinner.

Ro:  Tell me when you get back... I've got a thing for you.

Me: A thing?

Ro: A thing... it's... it's... it's... sooooo good....

Heh heh heh-- Can you see the picture? Three guesses what he got!

*  *  *

Can I just say that Edie, Ro, and Andy-- are all amazing and do the tackle hug thing with amazing aplomb. I could tackle hug these guys all weekend.

*  *  *

My phone rings while I'm in the middle talking to readers behind the table.  I answer, and, no lie, my mom says, "Do you recognize my voice? Are you dead? Do you remember who we are?"

Me: 0.0  "Uh... scuse me... I, uh... gotta go take this..."

For the record, I will never again forget to call my parents.

*  *  *

I roomed with Belinda McBride, and had the most wonderful conversations with her. She's the loveliest person--and the following piece of amazeballs happened as I was running out of the room to meet somebody downstairs:

Me: Wait-- where's my angel bag?

Belinda: Do you like angels?

Me: Well, it's Azraphael and Crowley from Good Omens.

Belinda: Oh my God-- that's the most sublimely funny book!

Me: Oh wow. My daughter gave me this because she loved it so much. I love anyone who thinks this book was frickin' amazing!

And she did. And I adore her.

*  *  *

I knew that Poppy (marketing director for DSP) had a meeting with someone named Kelly-- turns out?

I knew Kelly-- and she's awesome.  Small publishing world-- wonderful chance to find friends!

*  *  *

And of course, Amy Di Martino is stunning her her new cat miss and cat ears.

But then she is always a very wonderful kitten--and she was so sweet to "paws" for these photos!


*  *  *

We will see pictures of Shira Anthony, Kim Fielding, and I posing for Alternaties news letter-- two days worth, in fact.

You can tell we posed--we all dressed in complimenting colors.

Both times.

By total accident.    It was awesome!!!!

*  *  *

And finally, there was home.

The dogs have still not stopped spazzing out.

Mate let me nap on him for an hour.

And this afternoon, Squish asked me if she should wash her hair. I said, "Uh, yeah." Then I looked closely. "Wait--isn't that the same hairstyle I gave you Thursday morning?"

Mate said, "Uh, yeah. Sorry about that."

But he made me dinner, so all was well.

Day 1, Yaoi-Con

Okay--

So the DSP booth was awesome.

In addition to Edie and Andy and our darling Ro, I also saw two people cos-playing Charlie Cochet's Thirds series and they were MARVELOUS, and of course the lovely DSP authors who make me so very happy to visit.

I'm just going to post a couple of pictures tonight, and wander off to bed--I can't wait to see who the cosplay gods drop into my lap tomorrow!

That one little thing...

Okay-- so it never fails.
I'll be folding laundry, and planning my trip.
And driving, and planning my trip.
I'll plan what to wear, I'll plot my day, down to my arrival time, and when I charge my phone, and what I'll be doing.
I pack extra, just because-- but I PLAN dammit.
Because I have silence in my own head, right?
And then just as I'm putting stuff in the suitcase, five people, two dogs and a cat absolutely NEED MY ATTENTION RIGHT THEN and as I'm putting stuff in the suitcase, it all goes to hell.
By the way I'm at Yaoi-Con in Burlingame, CA this weekend.
I have brought with me THREE knitting bags, a FULL SUITCASE of outfits I don't need, and more chocolate than any one person could eat.
I'll be on the vendor's floor if you need me. I'm pretty sure I'll be wearing clothes--but beyond that, I make no promises!
Amy

Bite me, I'm sorry!

Okay, I didn't mean to drive like an asshole. I looked over my shoulder, I anticipated where the cars were going to be, and I swear it didn't look like that car could even make the light.

When I turned right and moved to the outside lane, I didn't even see the guy I cut off-- he was going really fast and at first, I was just grateful I didn't get myself hit.

And then the guy sped up, passed me, and the fun began.

A whole carful of guys flipped me off, slowed down to twenty miles an hour, and started screaming epithets out of the window.

Two guys mooned me, pale asses hanging out of their windows, their little tiny dicks flapping in the breeze.

They continued to drive slow, until, when I saw a chance to get into the left hand turn lane without them cutting me off--because they would have--I took it.

Even if it meant they drove up alongside my car and screamed LEARN HOW TO DRIVE YOU FUCKING CUNT! out their window as they passed

And left me to go two miles out of my way to get back to where I was going.

My heart thundering in my throat the whole time.

Because I'm a middle aged woman, alone, at night--and I didn't see their damned black car ripping around the goddamned corner.

And of course my first thought was "Jesus, I"m sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I didn't see you! Oh my God, you were going fast, and thank you for not plowing over me, but I"m sorry!"

And my second thought was, "I hope they don't have guns!"

And my third thought was, "Wow, geez, this is overkill, guys."

And my last thought, as the bearded asshole screamed at me, face waxing large like the moon as he spit, was, "I hope you crash your car into a tree. I hope your dicks fall off. I hope you get thrown from your car and land with a fence post up your sphincter. Because what I did wrong, I did with the best of intentions, having cleared all the bases I could have to make sure there was nobody I was imposing with my actions. What I did was a mistake--and I was SORRY. What you did was malicious and evil and vengeful, and you were way more a danger to drivers on the road in your righteous fucking anger than I was with my carelessness. Being wronged by mistake does NOT give you the right to fuck with people on purpose. It never fucking has."

And then I made my way to pick my son up from the bus stop, because his class gets out late at night, and he will never have the privilege of driving, and I worry at him, out on the road, with people more interested in getting even than being safe.

Why that Cameo, Why those Guys

So, enough people have read--and enjoyed-- Tart and Sweet that I realized, "Hey--I never talked about the cameo!"Now, I've put the cover art from the big cameo couple on a LOOOOONGGG scroll down, so hopefully, you won't see it--at least on your phone--unless you really really really want to.  But in the meantime, I thought I'd talk about the weird intermingling of what's real and what's not in the Candy Heaven universe.  
Because a lot of it is real.
I talked about some of how real Candy Heaven is HERE and Darrin (who is real) has told me that people come in and tell him that they read about his store in the books--which makes us both AMAZINGLY happy--so it's obviously a real place.
But what about River Burger?  What about Raley Park? The RiverCats? Old Sacramento?  The Derek's office? Rick's Desserts? 
And what about the people?
Are any of them besides Darrin real?
Uhm...
Yeah. Actually. 
So how about I start at the beginning of the list of real and imaginary people and places, and then explain why the cameo everyone is talking about HAD to happen. Because it makes total sense if, uh, you actually live inside my head.
Okay-- places:
Candy Heaven-- totally real, and I've totally documented it. Moving on.
Old Sacramento-- totally real, and you've seen my crappy pictures for many years. Keep going.
River Burger--nnnnn... no. There is no River Burger as shown, owned by Finn Stewart's happy pixy family lurking across from the Railroad Museum in Old Sac--however, before everybody goes home in disappointment, I made River Burger as sort of an amalgam of the MANY food places that are there. So ACTUAL River Burger--no. Some place very much like it? Definitely.
Raley Field and the RiverCats-- yes. I've posted pictures of my family going to see baseball games, including one where Squish was with her choir singing the national anthem, and one in which Zoomboy randomly ran on the field to be on a little league parade when he is NOT in little league.  
Crocker Art Gallery-- as is sometimes mentioned. Yes. Have taken my kids there a couple of times, including a time documented in March sometime, with Squish's class as a chaperone.
Levee Oaks (this comes up later)-- yes and no. It's not called Levee Oaks, but anyone who lives out here will be able to identify Rio Linda from a couple of markers, including the water tower and the 7/11 and the frequent flooding. The last time I had to take someone to a dance lesson in Rio Linda, we were late because there was a cow in the road. I am not shitting around.
Discovery Park-- yes. There is VERY much a Discovery Park, and my memories of it are both good and bad.
Gatsby's Nick-- no. However, there IS an LGBTQ bar named Faces in Sacramento--but I have never been. (If was was ever a clubbing sort of girl, I would have gone--it's been in Sac for over 25 years.) I knew about Faces, but since I'd never been, I had to establish a place I could describe, so I built one in my brain for the Talker series. But if Gatsby's Nick was going to be an Amy Lane equivalent of Faces, it wouldn't have disappeared when Brian and Talker moved to Monterey. So when I decided Cy was going to work in a dance club (and we'll get to why in a minute) I decided it would have to be Gatsby's Nick.
Darrin-- yup. There's even pictures, and they've been on this very blog.
Darrin's boyfriend, Ro-- yes and no. YES, there is a Ro-- but NO these two men have never met. I asked Ro if, since Darrin was real, I couldn't have him be Darrin's boyfriend, so I could very very very firmly put the brakes on NEVER SHOWING DARRIN HAVING SEX. Cause he's a friend, and uh, icky.
Adam--only in my dreams.
Finn--iiiiiiiiishhh... Okay, so he's not really Finn.  But a guy matching Finn's immediate description used to be a deckhand at the gym pool. No actual conversation, just a few waves and smiles, and a whole lot of me, looking at him all starry eyed. I felt totally free to change this guy's name (I don't even remember his name) and his sexual orientation and make him into  Finn.
Finn's family-- totally made up. 
Rico--I think I saw an actor once matching Rico's description. Like, one of the bit part players that rotates regularly into different shows? Anyway--I liked him. Thought he was adorable. But that's about it. Mostly Rico is his own man.
Derek--I'm sure I knew a Derek in high school. Didn't everybody?
Miguel AND his family-- Yes and no. Miguel and the three sisters and two brothers and widowed mother are totally fictitious--but.... Miguel and his mother and the happy Mexican family are based on my friend Teresa, from soccer. Teresa and Mate have coached each other's children in soccer for more years than I can keep track of. When Mate lost most of his team this year to the big league age deadline shuffle, most of his kids who aged up went onto Teresa's team, including her son, Adan, whom Mate coached last year. I've known her for going on fifteen years--and I've adored her. If the soccer gods decree we go for a year without seeing each other, the minute we see each other again, we are talking nonstop. When I talked about a strong Latino family, I was thinking about my students when I was teaching, and obviously about Teresa and her children--her amazing, beautiful children. So while Miguel was my creation, he needed to be a kid who COULD be Teresa's son. And of course, Teresa was Teresa. Because she's my friend and amazing. And she listened to me tell her about pretty much every aspect of Lollipop, because I was so excited that she could have a spot in it. I've just adored her for so long.
Ezra-- Ezra was very much his own man. But I will say, of all the guys in the Candy Man universe, Ezra is also probably the most like me. Except for Jake. I'm very much a Jake the Cat. Saying.
Robbie-- Robbie is based on so many of the guys I grew up with, I couldn't put a name on one.  
Robbie's friends from work-- are based on my sister's (now ex) husband and her two amazing boys. Unfortunately, I found out about the pending divorce after the book was submitted, but let's just pretend her husband was just as awesome as I made him out to be in the book--because her KIDS (Micah and his brother, Teddy) are my nephews and I adore them. Their cousins are based on family friends whom my own kids consider cousins. 
Robbie's parents-- I know it's easy to hate them, but I try not to. They're based on listening to some of the women from my aerobics classes chatter, and, yes, some of my parents' friends. I've gotten very adept at, "I'm very pro-civil rights so I'm afraid I'm not very sympathetic," but I've also gotten good at hopefully going for dialog over confrontation. Because confrontation confirms their suspicions that I'm a raging unreasonable liberal. Every now and then dialog makes a difference.
Cy--Okay, here's where the fine line between Amy's brain and reality gets very fuzzy.  I've talked about my kids' dance school for YEARS. I've bitched about the recital, I've volunteered, I've told stories--you guys are familiar with this place, although I don't think I've listed the name. In a certain series of books about Levee Oaks, the second one in particular, one of the characters worked for "Anna"--who is based on my kids' dance teacher. That's Chicken's too-- since Chicken was three, as a matter of fact. 
So, "Cy" is based on someone I've seen dancing since Chicken was three.  He's a few years older--old enough to have been one of ZoomBoy's instructors since he was in gymnastics at two, actually. 
If I were to describe him, you would see the exact same description as I used for Cy. Including the hair and the baubles and the makeup.  Word on the grapevine was, he had a job at Faces, which was why he had to work at Gatsby's Nick, right? 
Here's the thing--"Cy" and I never really had a chance to talk. I wasn't working backstage when he was, I very rarely talk to the teachers unless they're teaching MY kids, and usually, I'm talking to Joanna, the owner of the studio. 
But I saw him grow up into this amazing dancer--and this very flamboyant young man. 
So my rule, about not knowing someone--to me, "Cy" was the persona I saw on stage--and you guys, you'd have to see him. He's amazing. He used to do the Genie for Aladdin, and his body language, his presence--would knock your socks off. Just truly talented--stunning. And while I understood that he was very definitely gay and not bi at all, when he was on stage, his presence sparked chemistry with anyone he danced with, male, female--didn't matter. 
His dancing presence embraced all comers. 
So that's how I made Cy. 
Now, one of the principle moments for Cy and Robbie--and the moment of one of the big cameos--comes at an gymnastics and dance exhibition at Cal Expo. That was real. My kids performed there and the worry about the matts was real, as was the difficulties performing the gymnastics. The owner of the studio was pissed.
Now about the big cameo-- that particular character worked for Anna at the beginning of his book. The real Anna, although she doesn't speak a word of Russian, DOES have studios all over various parts of town--often not the best parts, either. Her belief is that any kid who tries is welcome, and her rates are as damned low as a teacher can get and still run a business. She's damned near a North Highland's institution. 
So, if "Cy" was going to work for "Anna"--because until very recently, he did, then we would HAVE to see this other character, because he worked for her way back in 2010 when HIS book came out.
And we, of course, had to have his cop in there too.
Now, I wanted to post a picture of Cy here--and people are probably wondering why I haven't. I posted pictures of Teresa and her oldest son, with their permission, when I was talking about my inspirations for Miguel and Teresa. Why wouldn't I post Cy?
Well, Cy--who was part of the exhibition in December--quit "Anna's" between December and May. I'm not sure why--I'm not close enough to ask--but besides missing the hell out of seeing him dance at recital, I didn't get a chance to tell him about the books, about him being an MC in a romance--any of it, which is too bad. I have a picture of a picture--he was there long enough to be printed on the program--but I just didn't feel right posting it without his permission. 
But there you go-- the real and the fictional, all sort of twined together in this series (two of them, actually.)  Now you see why the cameo had to happen--because in Amy Land, these people really would have known each other.
And hopefully, they would have gotten along.
So if you don't know who showed up at the dance portion, scroll down-- way, way, way down--and you'll see their cover.
I love this couple so much.
I'm glad they came back to play.

Doing EPIC SHIT

Seriously-- I was totally going to talk about the cameos in Tart and Sweet, but my picture function wasn't working, so I'll do that tomorrow and talk about something that's been bothering me...

Okay-- I attended a BUNCH of panels in Kansas City and World-Con, and I enjoyed myself. For the most part I hung back and knit, and let the discussions rage on--especially at first.

And I have to admit, I'm sort of wishing I'd opened up at the beginning, because there are a couple of things I need to get off my chest.

Let's start with the one that will piss the fewest people off. (Given this year, HA, but I'm going to hope.)

Okay-- the panel was about whether or not science fiction/fantasy can have a romantic HEA, and this was a real opportunity to say something meaningful about individuality in sci-fi, but they missed it by letting the panel devolve into a big shipping session about Han and Leia. Now, on the one hand, it was fun to hear people talk about Han and Leia, but on the other...

Let's talk a little about HEAs in sci-fi.

Traditionally, they weren't there. Or if they were, they were implied. There's a reason for this and it has to do with a male dominated literature.  Sci-fi/fantasy was a man's venue for a really long time, to the extent that if women wrote in it, they did the same thing women did in gay romance when it first started--used a male pseudonym or initials.

Part of the reasons that men didn't want women's POV is that they felt women cheapened the genre with romance.

Okay-- I know most of my readers are romance readers-- try not to go off and strangle the man nearest you if they think this is true. Just... just no. Together, we can defeat Trump, but we cannot let this separate us. I'm serious.

The thing is, "epic" fantasy and "epic" science fiction were struggling for legitimacy back then, just as romance is now, and one of the things that helped to give it legitimacy was that word "epic". Epic is a literary word-- and it has some specific meanings:

Epic literature deals with universal themes-- good and evil, society sustainability, survival and apathy-- the big shit.  For those of us who loved LotR, the ELF stuff, not hobbit stuff. Big shit.

Because of this, epic literature deals with multiple governments and belief systems and often, with a journey or a quest from one to the other. How else do you prove that one's aspirations are mighty than to have them be mighty in many kingdoms?

Epic literature deals with ELVES, dammit! In the textbooks I taught from, they called it "nobility", which my students hated, so I started calling it social heft. It means that, regardless of birth or rank, epic heroes are the ones people listen to, whose decisions determine the fate of many people, rather than fucking up the one.

Very often, because of this, the epic hero had no agenda OTHER than the saving of many lives.             Peter Jackson got very sneaky, giving us the full scope of the Arwen/Aragorn love story--but in the original text, we got a couple of hints and a dry appendix. Otherwise, Aragorn's entire agenda was SAVING his PEOPLE. I have often compared the epic hero to Superman-- he has very basic heroic drives, he is absolute in his right over wrong, and yes, when he speaks people listen.

And Lois Lane, in the old Superman stories, was little more than comic relief. Because remember? Superman wanted to be with her and he had to give up his superness?

That's the perspective of someone who believes that epic heroes get no social life. They are too busy doing epic shit.

So science fiction and fantasy writers were proving that they were making EPIC SHIT. And if you're writing EPIC SHIT, you do not, by any means, put in a sweet little love story. Unless it's intended to be comic relief, or proof of the common people existing in the world, or thrown in as an afterthought.

So this whole question of Han and Leia COULD have been very relevant to the discussion.  Because the fact is, whether the relationship was on the rocks when the Force Awakens started or not, they HAD a relationship, and a child, and some pain, and they even had a reconciliation, which was GREAT. But more importantly, we watched that movie, which was so very much about EPIC SHIT and we thought that their relationship was important to the EPIC SHIT, and so, in a way, the idea that epic heroes could have an HEA was very very very...

Close.

I say close, because let's look at the end of that movie.

The end where Luke Skywalker, the celibate Jedi, has been a recluse, hiding away from all hobbit interaction so he can do his penance for a big mistake like a brooding elf.

And so the idea of whether or not HEA--or romance--belonging in an epic fantasy or sci-fi story is still in question.

And the idea of it being acceptable in sci-fi or fantasy literature is still up in the air.

Having a hero who both does EPIC shit and PERSONAL shit is what makes a hero a ROMANTIC hero and not just an epic one. In English lit, this is when we went from Beowulf to King Arthur. In comic book world, this is when we went from Superman to Spiderman.

So Han Solo? He was a romantic hero. Sure, he'd help the damned alliance, but could they, for the love of Yoda, maybe pay off his frickin smuggling debts? And would it suck so much if the girl could kiss him sometimes?

But Luke, with his earnestness and celibacy (and YES, dammit, celibacy matters, because it means our hero is not taking anything for himself and is therefor sacrificing his personal agenda for his epic agenda) is still the MOST IMPORTANT PUPPY in this universe.

I mean, Rae left her friend in a coma to serve the greater good. If that's not an epic agenda, I don't know what is.

So the question of, "Can an HEA exist in Alternative Universe Literature" is bigger than Han and Leia-- and it's even bigger than Star Wars.

Because the HEA --and the importance of the personal agenda in the midst of EPIC SHIT has been the purview of the female writer since Elinor of Aquitaine.  (She IS the one who brought over King Arthur, right?)  While the men were going, "Beowulf GOOD, he rip head off MONSTER!" the women were going, "And who was going to keep the children safe, plant the crops, and make sure our damned race didn't get eaten by Grendel, that's what we want to know. I mean we're going to do the procreating, we would like it to not be onerous or disgusting or an act of force, please. Yes, fine, he ripped the head off the monster, we're really fucking grateful, CAN WE FOCUS ON THE JOYS AND SORROWS OF LIFE NOW."

And you can see where we need the balance, right? You can't focus on the joys and sorrows of life if the monster is going to destroy your livelihood-- but if life isn't at least a little bit fun, you might as well feed yourself to the goddamned monster.

So when we ask ourselves, "Is it possible to have an HEA in AU," what we really need to be asking ourselves is, "Why not? Is fantasy and science fiction only concerned about the slaughtering of the monsters and the bad guys and the resolutions of governments and the greater social agendas? Or is there room for the individual concerns, individual happiness, a personal agenda, in the midst of all of the DOING EPIC SHIT?"  In this frame, the "Can an HEA exist" becomes more "Can the individual attain happiness in this alternative universe?"

It's not even about romance anymore when you think about it like that (although romance is a big chunk of it.)  When you think about individual happiness in the context of societal stability, you're asking a very basic question about the nature of government and the nature of an individual in securing peace in his or her time.

Which is sort of where I thought that panel would go.

Because as much fun as shipping Han and Leia was, they're not the only couple in the universe. In determining the fate of one, it's also necessary to make that fate a possibility for the many.

And how to do that is a discussion I'd like to see happen someday.

* * *

Tomorrow, as long as my picture import works, I'll talk about the cameo in Tart and Sweet without naming any names. I want to explain why it was sort of necessary for at least one of those people to show (although you can't have one without both, so, you know, both.)

Mate's Day

My Mate woke up at seven o'clock Saturday morning so he could shower, then he rallied all of the rest of us.

I don't move quickly in the morning. Neither do our children.

He jollied us all out the door and was on his way to McDonalds for mom's coffee, when we got a phone call, and he had to turn around because somebody needed him because he delegated a task to somebody and they just don't measure up to my Mate.

We turned back around and he drove us to where our son's team played the first game of soccer he was responsible for that day.

We lost, and Squishie scratched her ass on a broken piece of playground equipment.

Mate is depressed. His team is mostly new, because he lost the kids he'd been coaching for YEARS in a big league age bracket shuffle, but dammit... if he just could have coached better, they would have won.

We head back to another sports complex, where first he has to make sure new coaches know how to sign into a game, and he checks in on them, makes sure the kids are doing okay and the coaches aren't spittle blasting idiots who scream and throw things (they're not, but he's had a few of those--he hates that) and then he has to warm up our daughter's team.

They too are mostly new. Their coach last year couldn't coach again and Mate took over the team. Again, he's lost a lot of kids for the age re-org and the coach re-org, and he's got kids there who actually hate soccer and don't know why they're on the field.

He tries to give them a reason to be on the field.

They lose.

He feels bad. If he could have just coached them better, he thinks, they would have won.

I take the kids home, because they're hot, sweaty, whiny, hungry, needy, thirsty and one more dwarf I can't remember, and an hour later, I go back and get him.

He's stayed to ref a game, because they are short on refs this year because a lot of our old refs graduated.

When I get back, I help him pick up cones and drive them to the maintenance shed in the final act of cleanup. We left the house at 7:30 in the morning and it's now 4 p.m..

"What do you want to eat?" I ask him.

"Whatever you want."

"No. You get what you want. Anything you want. ANYTHING you want."

"Beach Hut?"

It's done. Beach Hut it is.

We walk in the door and I say, "Kids, off the TV. Dad gets the TV. Anything he wants."

The kids bail-- no argument, no, "But I was just--"

The TV is his. Rest of the night. No arguments.

And that's how it goes. Dad gets the TV, Dad gets the remote, Dad gets the food, picks the movie, gets the soda, the dessert.

Because Dad's sort of a hero. And he's had a long day.

And we can't get him a palanquin or extra refs or a winning day on the field.

But we'll do what we can.

A Sneak Peek: All the Rules of Heaven

So, I'm almost done with this book. And I'm excited about it--it's urban fantasy, and there was a lot of world building, and I sort of love it.

I don't know where it's going yet--but I'll keep you posted.

And although it may be a long time before you see the rest, since I'm going to be finishing up tonight or tomorrow, I thought you may want to see a little of what's got me so invested.

Meet Tucker and Angel. Two guys who are about to break all the rules of heaven:

*  *  *

"But I don’t understand!” Angel complained as Tucker looked through the supplies and started pan-toasting bread for a roast beef sandwich. “You hated this place on sight—why would you want to fix it up?”
“I don’t understand!” Tucker whined. “You’re supposed to be helping me do shit here, and all you can do is complain that I’m doing it wrong. Jesus, I’ve been here less than eight hours. Give the rookie a chance.”  With a practiced flip, he turned the bread and let it brown in the remaining butter.
“It’s just that we don’t know what will happen if you start replacing objects and taking down walls.”   Angel wrung his hands—actually wrung his hands, like an aggrieved 50’s movie heroine.
“What will happen?” Tucker rolled his eyes. “What will happen is that I’ll be less inclined to hang myself in the ceiling fan and create a new cursed object!”
“You’d do that?” Angel asked and now that the echoes of their bickering died down, Tucker heard shock and concern.
He sighed and threw the roast beef on the bread, and then added the onions he’d browned earlier. Unbidden, he remembered those days after Damien… after the funeral. He’d crawled into bed for days, barely surfacing to go to the bathroom. The only thing that had pulled him out of bed had been the same thing that always pulled him—the painful punch to the gut that said it was time to go change somebody’s life. He’d managed a shower and clean clothes that had hung on him like rags, and he’d even made it intothe restaurant. He had no clear memory of the young man or the sex in a cheap hotel that had followed. What he did remember was the guy on the phone the next morning, whispering to his best friend, “Lor, you’ve got to come and get me. I think I slept with a homeless man last night. You’re right. I’ll go to rehab. This is it—I’ve totally hit rock bottom and I need to change my life.”Tucker had feigned sleep and waited until the guy had left, and then he’d cried. He’d wept for hours, until the maid had needed to kick him out, and he’d dragged his sorry ass home.
He’d spent the rest of the day cleaning and vacuuming—and shaving—and when he’d gone to bed that night he’d made a resolution.
This was a calling. Like the priesthood, except sort of the opposite. He could either drink and mope his way through it, or he could enjoy the things he had.
“Once,” he said now, in response to Angel’s question. “Once, it was that bad. As to whether or not it gets that bad again, I’ll leave that to you to sort things out.”
Angel was quiet for a while, and Tucker sort of forgot he was there.  He sat down with his sandwich and a glass of milk, grateful for the coolness of the milk and the way the grilled onions burst butter on his tongue.  He was savoring another bite of sandwich when Angel spoke, startling him.
“Will you miss your home?”
“That depends,” Tucker said after he swallowed. 
“On what?”
“If I’m allowed to make this freakshow into a new one.”
“Your aunt didn’t want anything changed,” Angel said humbly.
Tucker sighed. “She was probably like me,” he said after chewing for a moment.
“How?”
“This thing you want me to do—it’s not easy. Or fun. In fact, it’s sort of ruined my life. So when I sit down to eat, I want my goddamned sandwich just the way I want it. Cause it’s the thing that gets me through the day.”
“She wanted the house the way she remembered, because it comforted her.”
“Yup.”
“You want to change it, because you want something that’s yours.”
“Bingo!”
Angel gazed off past Tucker’s left ear, and for a moment, the shape of the person Tucker had seen all day faded a little, like a picture in the sun. It returned, and Angel’s hair was darker, his face a little longer. Not a dead ringer for Damien now, more like his older brother.
Tucker blinked at him and he blinked back, apparently not even registering that he’d changed.
“Who in the fuck are you?” Tucker asked, his voice surprisingly level.
“I’m Angel.” He offered a complacent smile and Tucker rolled his eyes.

And then finished his sandwich.

Sending and Receiving

I have to prepare a mail day!

I need to send some books to Jaime from Alpha Book Club, and I need to send Chicken her shirt, and I need to send my cousin's baby his hat.

And I need to send these little kid's chemo caps to my friend, who's niece will need one shortly, and who might possibly know some other little girls who will want something squishy and indescribably soft sometime in the future.

So that's probably going out Friday! *whew*

But today, I got this book--Forensics for Fiction: Blood Spatter, by Geoff Symon. 

Now, in our list of requirements for being bad parents, besides letting our kids watch @midnight, there is also letting our kids watch every crime procedural known to man.

Bones is a personal favorite.

Squish saw me get the book and said, "You obviously know the author."

"Yes! But he's not a romance writer--he's one of those scientists who analyzes crime scenes."

"Like in Bones?" she asked,  big eyed.

"Yup. This is to help writers write better crime scenes."

"Oh, Mom! You know the COOLEST people!"

I do indeed. And isn't it fun how we're all connected by post?

Glasses

And to finish off the insane two weeks of "Mom gets no damned time," today was my eye appointment.

"Okay," said the doctor, "Could you read the last line in front of you that's clear enough to see."

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

"I can't read any of that."

"Oh. Okay. Here-- here's the next set. Which letters can you see here?"

"The top two."

"Okay-- now with your glasses..."

"Oh, hey! I can almost see the bottom line with these!"

"So we'll start right there.  So, what do you want glasses for? Working on the computer? Reading? Driving? Driving at night?"

"Yes."

"O-kay. So, which one is most important?"

"Driving and knitting. I mean reading close up. I mean knitting."

"We'll just say reading."

"Good one!"

"Excellent. So, here's some glasses to pick out. I'll be back."

I am left, throwing all of the most brightly colored, obnoxious frames into the box that I can possibly find.

Then I flash to the dress.

The dress was a find, really. I love the dress. It's white with big black flowers on it and teal accents. I probably don't even need to post a picture of me in the dress, because I was A. Wearing it at RT when my daughter came to the Fantastic Day Party, and we were photographed together, and B. Wearing it at RWA during the signing when not only did my daughter come visit me there in a similar dress and I posted the pictures all over the place, but ARe came along and took pictures, which they've plastered over Twitter.

When I think back upon this summer, I'm going to think about this dress.   Now, I've got plenty of others, but... well.

This dress is the one people will remember.

I look at the multicolored tortoiseshell glasses, and think about those pictures.

And realize that, like the dress, these glasses will be the only thing people see.  (Except for my beautiful Chicken, whom I'm still so glad visited me. *happy sigh* I love that picture. It was like this metaphor was an excuse to post it. )

I sigh and put them back. Find something a little more conservative.  Then it hits me...

Next check, I'll have to get glasses for the computer. I couldn't get them this time because we just saved the dog, but they're on my agenda.

Heh heh heh...

Nobody cares what I look like at my computer.

When I come back to fill THAT prescription I'm getting those Rainbow Tortoiseshell glasses, dammit!

*sigh*

It was the only thing that gave me the strength to put them back.