H.B. Pattskyn's Blog, page 20

Vacation

I just got back from a slightly longer than expected vacation (really, I was writing, but I also read a few books and generally relaxed!)

I wanted to thank everybody who came by the Blog Hop! I don't have the winners names handy, but my husband promised me he sent them off (and I know I signed the books, he actually drove the up to me so I could!)

I'll get back to my regular blogging schedule starting on Saturday.

Happy...whatever day today is. Thursday. No, it's past midnight. Friday. TGIF!!


Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

Happy Halloween!!

Greetings from Port Austin, MI....Well, sort of. See, I'm actually writing this before I leave, because there's no internet access where I'm headed. Yikes is right. But it's the kind of distraction free environment I need right now. Especially right now. (Those who follow my Facebook posts are probably aware that we hit a deer coming home from Grand Rapids on Thursday.)
But that isn't really what I wanted to talk about today. Before I get on with it, one bit of business: winners have been (will be? since I'm writing this on Sunday) chosen for the blog hop, but won't be announced officially here--however, if you're a winner, my husband has contacted you by now! He's agreed to draw winners for me Tuesday morning, get in touch with them, and get their books out, so I can run away from home for a week of peace, quiet, and writing. 
Halloween is my favorite holiday. Okay, maybe it's tied with Yule. But this is far and away my favorite time of year. Changing leaves, a chill in the air (which right now is maybe a little colder than I prefer, but I still love it!) the first sighting of my favorite constellation, Orion (remember the blog post I did a while back about that book by Diana Wynne Jones?  :)  I loved Halloween long before I was a witch. I loved (and still love) jack o lanterns, fresh baked pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pie (yeah, I know, more an American Thanksgiving thing, but still). This is also a time of great reflection; the crops that we bring in aren't just the literal crops, but the fruits of our endevours as well. As the saying goes, what you reap is what you sew--this is the time of year to reflect on where we are, how we got here, where we want to be and how to get there!
Although I'm assuming most of y'all are well educated folks, there are a lot of misconceptions about Halloween and Samhain (pronounced roughly "sow-ain"--it's Celtic, okay? They just don't pronounce letters the way we do. The only time it's pronounced as it looks is when you're talking about that heavy metal band). 
Anyway, Samhain translates to something along the line of "summer's end"--it's not the name of a deity (although at least one encyclopedia says otherwise) and it's not (specifically/historically) a celebration of the dead, god of the Underworld, ancestors, etc. In other words, it's not the Celtic version of El Dia de los Muertos--although most modern Pagans pick this time of year to honor our blessed dead, those who have gone on before. Like at all of the sabbats (holidays), we believe that the veil between the worlds is thinner this time of year then the rest of the time, making it possible for those who have gone on before to nip back over and check up on us. The veil is said to be the very thinnest at Samhain and Beltaine. 
For our ancestors--and many contemporary people as well--this was/is the time of year to get in the last of the crops before winter. It's also when the herds (of domestic animals) are culled and meat smoked for winter storage, simply because it would be impractical to try and feed the entire herd over the winter months. (Remember, we're talking about a time before corner convenience stores!) It is considered ill-luck to harvest anything after Samhain (what is left in the fields is said to belong to the Fae...or at least the deer and squirrels).
And as a quick point of note: the Celts did not carve pumpkins because they didn't HAVE pumpkins. They carved turnip sculls. Cool, huh? 
Between Samhain and Yule (the winter solstice), the sun grows dim and nights are very long and cold. During this time of hear the Crone as Hag reigns over the land; many Celts (Welsh Celts) called Her by the name Cailleach--that's the name I use, anyway. This time of year, I celebrate (yes, celebrate!) Cailleach and Arawn, light candles for those who have gone on before, and almost always write a letter to my grandmother to let her know about the year I've had. (She died the year before my daughter was born, and I've always wished my daughter could have known her). There are a few other special people I remember this time of year, too. In addition to lighting a few candles, I sometimes do a dumb (as in mute) supper, which is another tradition; I've never been sure what the silence was for, except that you have more time to reflect and think when you're not yammering away. A plate is set for the ancestors, too, of course. 
Yep, there you have it, a real witch's Samhain. Kinda dull, huh? ;-) Seriously, we're not half as scary as people think we are (okay, I'm a little scary before my coffee in the morning, but that's a different matter all together!) 


And for today's recipe...
Remember that pumpkin I hacked up and pureed? Well, I've still got TONS of it left. So the other day, I started experimenting. This is what I came up with:
Chicken and Apples in a Pumpkin Cream Sauce
Ingredients:2 chicken thighs or one breast (boneless/skinless, although you could probably use bone in, too)1 medium apple (I like gala, fuji, and honey crisp...basically anything firm. Delicious apples are NOT firm. If you like tart apples, try a granny smith or macintosh). 3/4 cup of pumpkin puree (if you're using canned, you want PLAIN not spiced...but seriously, you don't want canned pumpkin!)1/2 teaspoon garlic powder (okay, I was being lazy)1/4 teaspoon ginger powder dash of saltyou can always alter spices to tastea little olive (or whatever you have on hand) oil for sauteeing2 Tablespoons heavy whipping cream (or whole milk)
Cut the chicken into chunksPeel and core the apple and cut it into chunksSautee chicken until done, toss in the apple chunks, and let them cook until warm but not mushAdd in the pumpkin puree and spices, giving it a good stirAdd the cream/milk after you've turned off the heat
Dinner is served!I think my total time beginning to end was thirty minutes or so, so it's a fast, easy, yummy autumn meal :)
That's a serving for one, by the way; I was cooking for myself that night and my husband isn't crazy about pumpkin, anyway. 


Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

Blog Hop!!

http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/
Whoo-hoo another blog hop!  I had SO many entries into the giveaway for Bound:Forget Me Knot on Good Reads; I hope a few of those who didn't win will get a chance to hop on by over the next few days for another crack at winning a copy! I don't usually get that many entries here, so honestly, you should have a much better chance at winning here.
So, before I get to the other fun stuff, here are the rules for my giveaway; it's really simple.
I'm giving away two (signed paperback) books, Heart's Home, my first novel, and Bound, my second novel. One winner for each (unless I get tons of entries, then I might give away two copies of each, I've done it before. No promises, but just sayin', the more people who enter the better the chances I'll start feeling loved and therefore generous ;-)To enter, simply leave a comment below. Some folks emailed me on the last blog hop--that's okay too. I check my helenpattskyn@gmail.com email during a hop, just in case. If you really want me to feel loved (i.e. generous), subscribe to my blog. I update twice a week and never spam anybody.In your comment tell me which book you'd like a chance at winning--and yes, you can say "both", and I'll put your name into both hats.Go back to http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/ for even more blogs to visit!Quick addendum: I'm heading out of town on Monday, BUT my wonderful husband will be using my scientific method (that would be names in a hat) to pick my winners and mailing out your books; he'll be in touch with me while he draws the names.)  Thanks again for hopping by!!As always: International Entries are welcome!

Now...Bound: Forget Me Knot is written exclusively from Jason's POV (point of view) in "close third person". I thought it would be fun to go back and re-write a few scenes from Henry's POV. You don't have to have read Bound to really "get it", and reading this won't spoil Bound because it's from pretty early on in the book.

The set up: Jason Kennley is volunteering at a science fiction convention and sees a gray leather collar in the dealer's room...but as much as he wants the collar, he wants the booth owner (Henry Durand) even more. When they bump into each other again in the hall, Henry "invites" Jason to come to a demo he's giving on rope bondage. Here's that scene, through Henry's eyes...



Henry glanced back at the table and the beautiful young man kneeling there all trussed up in light gray nylon rope. He wished he’d brought down black rope instead. Gray might be the boy’s color, but black would look stunning against his pale olive skin. Still, the sight of the boy all tied up like that made him hard enough to pound nails. He didn’t try to hide it either, as he walked around the room, checking on how folks were doing.
The kid has a boyfriend, he reminded himself. But the boyfriend wasn't here, was he? And Jason hadn’t looked all the please when Blondie glommed onto him in the hall either… oh who are you kidding, Durand? he chided himself. There’s no way a kid like Jason’s gonna be interested in an old fart like me. He wasn't sure how old Jason was…twenty five, maybe? Could be thirty. Yeah, a young thirty. He’d mentioned college, hadn’t he? But Sebastian was almost thirty and he was still in school working on a Master’s Degree. Master’s programs were pretty pricey  Maybe that was why Jason was broke.
And if Jason was thirty, maybe he would be interested in hooking up with a forty year old.
Henry glanced back up at him again, noting the smooth lines of his back, the graceful curve of his spine, the gentle musculature, his hair falling in long dark curls just past his shoulders. Jason’s breathing was regular, his lungs filling and emptying in slow, easy breaths. He looked so relaxed, so at ease, at home, all trussed up, kneeling there, patiently waiting for whatever came next.
 Damn if I had a boy like that I wouldn’t let him outa my sight for a second. Subs were, sad to say, a dime a dozen. Not that Henry discounted the worth of any sub he’d ever been with, but subs outnumbered Doms which meant that, as the saying went, it was a “buyers’ market”. Doms had their pick of the litter—but a kid like Jason? All wide eyed innocence and genuinely boyish charm. Until he opens his mouth. His cock twitched, surging forward, desperate to get out of the leather pants. Jason was just the right mix of sugar and spice to keep him on his toes. Henry liked that in a boy. Like nothing, he needed it. After Derrik…
“Is this right?”
The woman’s question jarred Henry’s thoughts and brought him back to where he was supposed to be. Conducting a demo, making sure nobody got themselves hurt. He studied the rope the woman had tied around her partner’s wrists; the man’s hands were behind his back, his elbows at an obviously uncomfortable angle. “Why don’t you ask your partner how he feels before asking me if it’s right.” It wasn’t a question ora suggestion.
The woman blinked, taken aback, though whether it was by Henry’s tone or the suggestion, he couldn’t be sure.
God damn some people. “Look at the angle of his arms. Does that look right?”“It’s not supposedto be comfortable,” she retorted. “To each their own kink—but if you abuse your sub’s service, you lose it,” he said, his words directed at the boy, not his Domme.
“A good sub never leaves,” the Domme told him. “He knows he’s lucky to have me.”Henry snorted. “I hope he’s been doing this longer than you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that a good sub knows he doesn’t have to put up with crap.”
Her expression shifted suddenly from haughty to...well, not quite desperate, but a whole lot less arrogant. “He says this is what he wants.”
Henry sighed; he’d lay good money that they were both noobs. He gentled his tone. “There’s a difference between the fantasy someone gets built up in their head and reality. In reality, most people don’t really want to be hurt beyond a certain point—and nobodywants permanent damage. Leastwise nobody you want to be playing with. Tops have their limits, too,” he added. “Your job is to help him figure out what his limits are while not losing sight of your own.  Now. Look at those ropes again and ask yourself if that looks right.”
Dutifully, the woman undid the knots and stared over, adjusting her sub’s arms into a more comfortable angle, whispering quietly to him. Dragging answers from him when he hesitated.
Another Domme caught Henry’s eye and shot him a smile. “There any chance you might do a more…private demo, later in the weekend?” she asked.
Henry glanced at her work, and the contented looking woman kneeling at her feet. He was about to say “yes”, if folks were interested, they could figure something out, but then he glanced up to the table and Jason again—just to make sure the boy was really still doing all right, or so he told himself. His cock twitched again, aching to be free of the confines of the leather. Aching to be buried balls deep in Jason’s ass. God, if they were anywhere else… “I ah, I think I’m gonna be kinda tied up the rest of the weekend.”
The Domme snickered. “Someoneis, anyway,” she shot back, still grinning. “He’s a very pretty boy.”
“That he is.” And you are dreaming if you think he’s really going to want you to fuck him. But as dreams went, it wasn’t a bad one. Might give him something interesting to jerk off to, later.
Henry completed the circuit of the room, dividing his attention between the inexperienced Domme and his young volunteer. The Domme seemed to be getting it through her skull that regardless of what her boy said he wanted, she was going to have to set some limits, make him start thinking. Or find a new sub.
Finally, it was time to start getting folks untied, get them out the door. He passed out his business card, invited anyone who was interested to stop by his booth tomorrow to talk some more—if nothing else, doing a demo was always good for sales. Which wasn’t the real reason he did them; he did demos at places like this for the same reason he let newbies come to play parties at his place: they needed a safe place to learn and good people to learn from.
A muffled cry from the other end of the room got his attention. Shit. Poor kid had been tied up for over an hour. He had to have cramps on top of his cramps. And whose fault is that. He shouldn’t have left the kid up there that long.
Henry pulled the door shut tight and hurried across the room. “Shhh,” he encircled Jason in his arms. Jason pushed closer to him, seemingly eager to be held; Henry was happy to oblige. “You did great,” he crooned in Jason’s ear. “Everybody’s gone. I was just seeing the last of them to the door. I’m sorry I left you, but I was only as far away as the other end of the room, I promise.”
Jason’s eyes remained closed and he went competely still in Henry’s arms, his breathing slow and steady once more.  Henry smiled; he knew that look, he just hadn’t expected to see it on Jason’s face. This wasn’t supposed to have been a scene, just a demo—but damn if the boy hadn’t sunk into subspace. Henry’s cock responded to that realization by straining even harder against his pants. He ignored it. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Jason. “I am incredibly proud of you,” Henry told him. “I’m gonna untie you now, okay? Jason? You with me?”
Jason tried to nod, but he could barely move his head.
“Here, let’s start with that.” He undid the single knot holding the “gag” in place; the ropes fell away and Henry reached for his water, pressing the plastic cup to Jason’s mouth. Still dazed, Jason didn’t seem to realize what was expected of him. “Drink,” Henry told him.
“I’ve gotta piss,” he croaked. “That’ll make it worse.”
“A full bladder won’t kill you, and I won’t untie you until you drink this.”
Jason shot him an apprehensive look, but no, Henry wasn’t kidding. Jason drank. “I can’t feel my feet,” he said, when Henry eased the empty cup away from his mouth.  
“Okay, hang on. No, let me,” Henry said, when Jason started trying to wriggle into a sitting position. Obediently, he went limp and let Henry bring his legs out from underneath him, so they dangled over the edge of the table. Once he was sure Jason was steady enough to sit there, Henry undid the rest of the ropes. But as soon as he was free, Jason tried to stand—Henry caught him, before he toppled over. “Your bladder can hang on for another few minutes,” he said, helping Jason back to the table. Jason finally gave in when Henry went to work on his arms, starting at his wrists massaging out the cramps. The boy’s arms weren’t bad, but his neck and shoulders were a mess.
Jason sighed under his ministrations. “You’re really good at that.”
Henry chuckled. “I was a massage therapist for almost twelve years. I’d like to think I know a thing or two.”
“What do you do now?”
He smirked. “You were admiring it this afternoon.”
Jason turned to look at him. “You… made…all of that?”
“Just the gear. Friend of mine does the leather clothing. You’ve got some pretty nasty knots in your back and shoulders,” he began tentatively, “if I offer to work on you, will I piss off your boyfriend?” Henry could just imagine the little angel on his right shoulder tsking at him, while the devil on his left laughed and told him he wasn’t half as slick as he thought he was, that Jason was going to see right through the ruse, realize all Henry really wanted was to get into his pants. If Jason wanted the same thing it would be great, if not…
Jason blinked at him. “Huh?”
“Blond kid, spiky hair? The one glomming onto you in the hallway?”
Jason’s face contorted into a scowl. “Terry is notmy boyfriend,” he said in a sour tone.
“Well if that’s the case, why don’t you let me buy you dinner before I work on your back?” he suggested.
Jason blinked up at him.
Henry forced a smile and reminded himself that just because he didn’t know the score between Jason and Blondie, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. “I figure it’s the least I owe you for being such a good sport.” And that was the truth, no matter how hard the little devil on his left shoulder laughed at him.  
“I was only doing what I thought you’d expect your boy to do, Sir,” he said, his tone almost flippant. Then just as quickly, he backpedaled. “It was just a joke. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Henry gave him a long, measured look. Had he been wrong about Jason being at home in bondage? But, Christ, the boy was walking around advertising it with that gray hankie! And he’d shown up, hadn’t he? He really had done exactly what Henry expected him to and there was quite the bulge happening between the boy’s legs. Henry would bet anything his shorts were soaked, too. “You sure it was a joke, boy?” he questioned, his tone low. He leaned in so close he could smell Jason’s aftershave; it was sweet and spicy, just like the boy wearing it. “Because I’m thinking you were serious. I’m also thinking you might be into more than just getting yourself tied up while other people watch. Am I right?”
Jason licked his lips and dropped his gaze. He couldn’t answer.
Henry didn’t need him to. He knew what he wanted and if Jason wanted it to, damn if it wasn’t going to turn into one interesting weekend. “I’m going to let you clean up in here—just coil the rope up neatly and put it back in the bag. I don’t expect it to be perfect. I’ll see you in room 412 in twenty minutes. Do not be late.”
“I—”
Henry cut him off. “By the way, I expect you to hold onto that piss until I see you again.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “I’m not into—”
“It has nothing to do with what you are or aren’t into. We’ll talk about that, don’t worry. For right now, you’re going to do what I tell you, simply because I’m the one telling you to do it. Clear?”
Jason lowered his gaze. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good boy.” Unable to resist the temptation, Henry reached out and cupped the back of Jason’s head, drawing him into a kiss. Jason gave in without hesitation, parting his lips and letting Henry take complete control. Henry groaned with satisfaction as he tightened his grip and pushed his tongue further into Jason’s mouth, pressing his lips against Jason’s so hard he was sure he was leaving bruises in his wake. He captured Jason’s tongue with his and laid claim to the boy’s mouth—his boy’s mouth—while his cock strained against his pants. God he would love to bend Jason over the table right there… but patience was a virtue. He pulled back and felt a deep sense of satisfaction when he saw the look on Jason’s face. Jason wanted more. A lot more. Henry was suddenly very glad he’d let Derrik talk him into coming to Michigan.
“See you soon, boy.”


Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

Blog Hop--Day One

http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/
Whoo-hoo another blog hop!  I had SO many entries into the giveaway for Bound:Forget Me Knot on Good Reads; I hope a few of those who didn't win will get a chance to hop on by over the next few days for another crack at winning a copy! I don't usually get that many entries here, so honestly, you should have a much better chance at winning here.
So, before I get to the other fun stuff, here are the rules for my giveaway; it's really simple.
I'm giving away two books, Heart's Home, my first novel, and Bound, my second novel. One winner for each (unless I get tons of entries, then I might give away two copies of each, I've done it before. No promises, but just sayin', the more people who enter the better the chances I'll start feeling loved and therefore generous ;-)
To enter, simply leave a comment below. Some folks emailed me on the last blog hop--that's okay too. I check my helenpattskyn@gmail.com email during a hop, just in case. If you really want me to feel loved (i.e. generous), subscribe to my blog. I update twice a week and never spam anybody.
In your comment tell me which book you'd like a chance at winning--and yes, you can say "both", and I'll put your name into both hats.
Go back to http://thebloghopspot.com/event-page/ for even more blogs to visit...AND come back HERE tomorrow for more fun stuff!

Now...Bound: Forget Me Knot is written exclusively from Jason's POV (point of view) in "close third person". I thought it would be fun to go back and re-write a few scenes from Henry's POV. You don't have to have read Bound to really "get it", and reading this won't spoil Bound because it's from pretty early on in the book.

The set up: Jason Kennley is volunteering at a science fiction convention and sees a gray leather collar in the dealer's room...but as much as he wants the collar, he wants the booth owner (Henry Durand) even more. When they bump into each other again in the hall, Henry "invites" Jason to come to a demo he's giving on rope bondage. Here's that scene, through Henry's eyes...



Henry glanced back at the table and the beautiful young man kneeling there all trussed up in light gray nylon rope. He wished he’d brought down black rope instead. Gray might be the boy’s color, but black would look stunning against his pale olive skin. Still, the sight of the boy all tied up like that made him hard enough to pound nails. He didn’t try to hide it either, as he walked around the room, checking on how folks were doing.
The kid has a boyfriend, he reminded himself. But the boyfriend wasn't here, was he? And Jason hadn’t looked all the please when Blondie glommed onto him in the hall either… oh who are you kidding, Durand? he chided himself. There’s no way a kid like Jason’s gonna be interested in an old fart like me. He wasn't sure how old Jason was…twenty five, maybe? Could be thirty. Yeah, a young thirty. He’d mentioned college, hadn’t he? But Sebastian was almost thirty and he was still in school working on a Master’s Degree. Master’s programs were pretty pricey  Maybe that was why Jason was broke.
And if Jason was thirty, maybe he would be interested in hooking up with a forty year old.
Henry glanced back up at him again, noting the smooth lines of his back, the graceful curve of his spine, the gentle musculature, his hair falling in long dark curls just past his shoulders. Jason’s breathing was regular, his lungs filling and emptying in slow, easy breaths. He looked so relaxed, so at ease, at home, all trussed up, kneeling there, patiently waiting for whatever came next.
 Damn if I had a boy like that I wouldn’t let him outa my sight for a second. Subs were, sad to say, a dime a dozen. Not that Henry discounted the worth of any sub he’d ever been with, but subs outnumbered Doms which meant that, as the saying went, it was a “buyers’ market”. Doms had their pick of the litter—but a kid like Jason? All wide eyed innocence and genuinely boyish charm. Until he opens his mouth. His cock twitched, surging forward, desperate to get out of the leather pants. Jason was just the right mix of sugar and spice to keep him on his toes. Henry liked that in a boy. Like nothing, he needed it. After Derrik…
“Is this right?”
The woman’s question jarred Henry’s thoughts and brought him back to where he was supposed to be. Conducting a demo, making sure nobody got themselves hurt. He studied the rope the woman had tied around her partner’s wrists; the man’s hands were behind his back, his elbows at an obviously uncomfortable angle. “Why don’t you ask your partner how he feels before asking me if it’s right.” It wasn’t a question ora suggestion.
The woman blinked, taken aback, though whether it was by Henry’s tone or the suggestion, he couldn’t be sure.
God damn some people. “Look at the angle of his arms. Does that look right?”“It’s not supposedto be comfortable,” she retorted. “To each their own kink—but if you abuse your sub’s service, you lose it,” he said, his words directed at the boy, not his Domme.
“A good sub never leaves,” the Domme told him. “He knows he’s lucky to have me.”Henry snorted. “I hope he’s been doing this longer than you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that a good sub knows he doesn’t have to put up with crap.”
Her expression shifted suddenly from haughty to...well, not quite desperate, but a whole lot less arrogant. “He says this is what he wants.”
Henry sighed; he’d lay good money that they were both noobs. He gentled his tone. “There’s a difference between the fantasy someone gets built up in their head and reality. In reality, most people don’t really want to be hurt beyond a certain point—and nobodywants permanent damage. Leastwise nobody you want to be playing with. Tops have their limits, too,” he added. “Your job is to help him figure out what his limits are while not losing sight of your own.  Now. Look at those ropes again and ask yourself if that looks right.”
Dutifully, the woman undid the knots and stared over, adjusting her sub’s arms into a more comfortable angle, whispering quietly to him. Dragging answers from him when he hesitated.
Another Domme caught Henry’s eye and shot him a smile. “There any chance you might do a more…private demo, later in the weekend?” she asked.
Henry glanced at her work, and the contented looking woman kneeling at her feet. He was about to say “yes”, if folks were interested, they could figure something out, but then he glanced up to the table and Jason again—just to make sure the boy was really still doing all right, or so he told himself. His cock twitched again, aching to be free of the confines of the leather. Aching to be buried balls deep in Jason’s ass. God, if they were anywhere else… “I ah, I think I’m gonna be kinda tied up the rest of the weekend.”
The Domme snickered. “Someoneis, anyway,” she shot back, still grinning. “He’s a very pretty boy.”
“That he is.” And you are dreaming if you think he’s really going to want you to fuck him. But as dreams went, it wasn’t a bad one. Might give him something interesting to jerk off to, later.
Henry completed the circuit of the room, dividing his attention between the inexperienced Domme and his young volunteer. The Domme seemed to be getting it through her skull that regardless of what her boy said he wanted, she was going to have to set some limits, make him start thinking. Or find a new sub.
Finally, it was time to start getting folks untied, get them out the door. He passed out his business card, invited anyone who was interested to stop by his booth tomorrow to talk some more—if nothing else, doing a demo was always good for sales. Which wasn’t the real reason he did them; he did demos at places like this for the same reason he let newbies come to play parties at his place: they needed a safe place to learn and good people to learn from.
A muffled cry from the other end of the room got his attention. Shit. Poor kid had been tied up for over an hour. He had to have cramps on top of his cramps. And whose fault is that. He shouldn’t have left the kid up there that long.
Henry pulled the door shut tight and hurried across the room. “Shhh,” he encircled Jason in his arms. Jason pushed closer to him, seemingly eager to be held; Henry was happy to oblige. “You did great,” he crooned in Jason’s ear. “Everybody’s gone. I was just seeing the last of them to the door. I’m sorry I left you, but I was only as far away as the other end of the room, I promise.”
Jason’s eyes remained closed and he went competely still in Henry’s arms, his breathing slow and steady once more.  Henry smiled; he knew that look, he just hadn’t expected to see it on Jason’s face. This wasn’t supposed to have been a scene, just a demo—but damn if the boy hadn’t sunk into subspace. Henry’s cock responded to that realization by straining even harder against his pants. He ignored it. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Jason. “I am incredibly proud of you,” Henry told him. “I’m gonna untie you now, okay? Jason? You with me?”
Jason tried to nod, but he could barely move his head.
“Here, let’s start with that.” He undid the single knot holding the “gag” in place; the ropes fell away and Henry reached for his water, pressing the plastic cup to Jason’s mouth. Still dazed, Jason didn’t seem to realize what was expected of him. “Drink,” Henry told him.
“I’ve gotta piss,” he croaked. “That’ll make it worse.”
“A full bladder won’t kill you, and I won’t untie you until you drink this.”
Jason shot him an apprehensive look, but no, Henry wasn’t kidding. Jason drank. “I can’t feel my feet,” he said, when Henry eased the empty cup away from his mouth.  
“Okay, hang on. No, let me,” Henry said, when Jason started trying to wriggle into a sitting position. Obediently, he went limp and let Henry bring his legs out from underneath him, so they dangled over the edge of the table. Once he was sure Jason was steady enough to sit there, Henry undid the rest of the ropes. But as soon as he was free, Jason tried to stand—Henry caught him, before he toppled over. “Your bladder can hang on for another few minutes,” he said, helping Jason back to the table. Jason finally gave in when Henry went to work on his arms, starting at his wrists massaging out the cramps. The boy’s arms weren’t bad, but his neck and shoulders were a mess.
Jason sighed under his ministrations. “You’re really good at that.”
Henry chuckled. “I was a massage therapist for almost twelve years. I’d like to think I know a thing or two.”
“What do you do now?”
He smirked. “You were admiring it this afternoon.”
Jason turned to look at him. “You… made…all of that?”
“Just the gear. Friend of mine does the leather clothing. You’ve got some pretty nasty knots in your back and shoulders,” he began tentatively, “if I offer to work on you, will I piss off your boyfriend?” Henry could just imagine the little angel on his right shoulder tsking at him, while the devil on his left laughed and told him he wasn’t half as slick as he thought he was, that Jason was going to see right through the ruse, realize all Henry really wanted was to get into his pants. If Jason wanted the same thing it would be great, if not…
Jason blinked at him. “Huh?”
“Blond kid, spiky hair? The one glomming onto you in the hallway?”
Jason’s face contorted into a scowl. “Terry is notmy boyfriend,” he said in a sour tone.
“Well if that’s the case, why don’t you let me buy you dinner before I work on your back?” he suggested.
Jason blinked up at him.
Henry forced a smile and reminded himself that just because he didn’t know the score between Jason and Blondie, that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. “I figure it’s the least I owe you for being such a good sport.” And that was the truth, no matter how hard the little devil on his left shoulder laughed at him.  
“I was only doing what I thought you’d expect your boy to do, Sir,” he said, his tone almost flippant. Then just as quickly, he backpedaled. “It was just a joke. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Henry gave him a long, measured look. Had he been wrong about Jason being at home in bondage? But, Christ, the boy was walking around advertising it with that gray hankie! And he’d shown up, hadn’t he? He really had done exactly what Henry expected him to and there was quite the bulge happening between the boy’s legs. Henry would bet anything his shorts were soaked, too. “You sure it was a joke, boy?” he questioned, his tone low. He leaned in so close he could smell Jason’s aftershave; it was sweet and spicy, just like the boy wearing it. “Because I’m thinking you were serious. I’m also thinking you might be into more than just getting yourself tied up while other people watch. Am I right?”
Jason licked his lips and dropped his gaze. He couldn’t answer.
Henry didn’t need him to. He knew what he wanted and if Jason wanted it to, damn if it wasn’t going to turn into one interesting weekend. “I’m going to let you clean up in here—just coil the rope up neatly and put it back in the bag. I don’t expect it to be perfect. I’ll see you in room 412 in twenty minutes. Do not be late.”
“I—”
Henry cut him off. “By the way, I expect you to hold onto that piss until I see you again.”
Jason’s eyes widened. “I’m not into—”
“It has nothing to do with what you are or aren’t into. We’ll talk about that, don’t worry. For right now, you’re going to do what I tell you, simply because I’m the one telling you to do it. Clear?”
Jason lowered his gaze. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good boy.” Unable to resist the temptation, Henry reached out and cupped the back of Jason’s head, drawing him into a kiss. Jason gave in without hesitation, parting his lips and letting Henry take complete control. Henry groaned with satisfaction as he tightened his grip and pushed his tongue further into Jason’s mouth, pressing his lips against Jason’s so hard he was sure he was leaving bruises in his wake. He captured Jason’s tongue with his and laid claim to the boy’s mouth—his boy’s mouth—while his cock strained against his pants. God he would love to bend Jason over the table right there… but patience was a virtue. He pulled back and felt a deep sense of satisfaction when he saw the look on Jason’s face. Jason wanted more. A lot more. Henry was suddenly very glad he’d let Derrik talk him into coming to Michigan.
“See you soon, boy.”


Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

Pumpkin Cupcakes

I'm not going to post too much today, just a recipe, because I'm gearing up for an AWESOME BLOG HOP! Come back on Friday for ALL the details.

For today's recipe, want to share those pumpkin cupcakes I took with me to Julie's Haunted Tea last Sunday in Bay Port. Unfortunately, I was on a super time crunch when I was going to buy a pumpkin and couldn't find a jarrahdale, so I ended up with a totally new variety of Pink Pumpkin--on the upside part of the proceeds go to the fight against breast cancer.
I also decided at the last minute to "switch it up" a little, and stuff the pumpkin cupcakes with chocolaty cheese stuffing and frost them with "latte" frosting, because that way the chocolate would be a little surprise in the middle  ;-)
You'll have to go back to Saturday's post to get the recipe for the fresh pumpkin puree.
This made 2 1/2 dozen cupcakes(or it would have done if I hadn't run out of steam after 2 doz and used the last bit of batter for a cake thing! I plopped it into the first little pan I found, dumped some of the "filling" on top, cut it in and poured myself a glass of wine!)
Cupcakes:2 2/3 c. fresh pumpkin puree2 c. brown sugar (packed)3 all purpose flour1 c. REAL butter (soft)unsalted is best for baking but not strictly necessary 3 egg yolks1 whole egg2 teaspoons vanilla extract (REAL)2 teaspoons baking powder1 teaspoons baking soda2 teaspoons ground cinnamon1/2  teaspoon ground allspice1/2 teaspoon ground cloves1/2 teaspoon ground nutmegor you can be like me and add 2 tsp. of this stuff:



it tasted just a little to anise-y so, I added about another teaspoon of cinnamon, and of course a little allspice (about a half teaspoon or so)OPTIONAL: 1 1/2 cups walnuts or pecansOR (Optional) sub. 1/2 c. almond meal for 1/2 c. flour( never use nuts when I'm baking for something public because nut allergies seem to be really rampant, but if I were making these for home, they would be FULL of wallnuts. Or maybe my other fave, macadamea nuts).Cream the butter and sugar

Whip in egg yolks, vanilla, pumpkin and cream


Sift together dry ingredients


I sift ALMOST nothing; this is one time when I mean it. Get out that sifter. Don't have one? No sweat. I'll be you've got a colander or a strainer: 

Measure you dry ingredients into the strainerand shake it over a bowl.Voila: sifted flour
Fold dry ingredients into wet ingredientsIf you're adding nuts, those go in last

The one place where I always measure carefully is cakes; sure, I'll dump in the vanilla by the bottle full and put in more cinnamon than ANY recipe would ever call for, but always measure out the basics exactly and with care. Butter, flour, leavening (baking soda, baking powder, and whole eggs), liquids (milk/water/wine--yes, wine--or fruit puree) need to be added exactly according to the directions. Pretty much everything else is okay to muck about with. 

Chocolate Cupcake filling:     okay, so when I wrote up the original recipe, I came out with TWICE what I needed; I've halved the recipe for you here...but you may still have extra. But seriously can you think of anything better to spread on your toast tomorrow morning?? 8 oz. cream cheese OR 8 oz. mascarpone cheese OR 8 oz. ricotta cheese1 egg yolks1 Tablespoon flour1/3 c. confectioner’s sugar (sifted)1/4 c. cocoa powder (sifted)sugar and cocoa powder can be adjusted to taste; I almost double both, but I've been accused of liking things TOO flavorful1 teaspoon vanilla extract (REAL)1/4 teaspoon cinnamonand because I like this kind of cocoa: 1/16 teaspoon cayenne pepperthe trick to adjusting for taste on cayenne is to taste the food, then sit with a minute. Do you taste it? Is there a little burn at the back of your throat? A pleasant tingle on your tongue? That's all I'm looking for when I put pepper in my chocolate. Cream together cheese, cocoa, and sugarWhip in eggs, cream, and vanillaStir in spices

Ginger frosting:3 c. confectioner's sugar1 stick soft butter (REAL; unsalted is best)2 Tablespoons heavy whipping cream2 teaspoons vanilla extract (REAL)1 teaspoon powdered ginger You may have to slightly adjust the butter/sugar/cream ratio (adding a little more of one or the other) to get the constancy you want In a mixer (or using hand mixer and blow):Cream together butter, ginger, and sugarAdd cream and vanillaAdd more cream or more sugar to adjust consistency 
I usually make the frosting as well as the cupcakes the night before and chill everything over night. 
How to put it all together:
There are multiple ways to stuff cupcakes. I'm basically lazy and have found this to be the less labor intensive method.
Fill your cupcake liners only 1/3 to 1/2 full of batter

 use a spoon to create an indent or little crater in the batter. Spoon in some of the filling (a level teaspoon or so)
the cupcakes in the SECOND line have craters

Plop a little more batter on top. REMEMBER: You never want a fully full cupcake, they rise.


Bake at 350 (F) for 10-20 minutes (depending on size of muffin pan).
TREAD LIGHTLY while those cupcakes are in the oven. Y'all might not be old enough to have had to deal with mama's wrath when you came tromping in from outside and caused her cake to fall... not a pretty sight, folks. Store bought mixes don't seem as prone to falling, cakes from scratch are a different sort of animal. A very temperamental animal.
Also: resist the urge to peek into the oven too soon. That will also cause a most unwanted fall.


Don't remove them from the pan until they're cool. Yes, that means lots of lag time. This is a great time to read a book! (or clean up the kazillion dishes you've dirtied baking... nah, I think I'll read!)
Do not frost until cupcakes are completely cool; the best method is to cover snuggly with plastic (this keeps the moisture in) and refrigerate over night (and these DO need to be refrigerated at all times because of the cream cheese! Please, do NOT poison your guests!!)
Notes:I made some changes to the original recipe I found for pumpkin cake (the recipe above reflects those changes). Originally it had about twice as much butter; I cut it back but still found the cupcakes a tad greasy for my taste, so next time, I'll just use one stick of butter (half a cup). The chocolate filling was a little too gooey, so I've swapped out a T of cream for a T of flour; hopefully that will solve the issue of the middles sinking quite so badly after they cool. 
The reason I'm including my notes is to illustrate that cooking is trial and error. Nobody gets it right on the very first try; you have to tweak recipes to make meals that are satisfying to YOU. That's why I'm always saying so many things are subjective!
Next week, I'll be trying a new take on pumpkin soup...
And don't forget Friday starts the new blog hop! I have something very special planned for EACH day of the Hop.
And just for fun, here are some pictures of my own pink pumpkin puree adventure  ;-) 
They're a lot tougher to cut into than pie pumpkins, but no harder to hack up than jarrahdales. Basically, you need a big sharp knife, a cutting board, and lots of elbow grease!
so here it is, a pretty pink pumpkin weighing in at about 15 lbs


I discovered that I was out of olive oilbut my husband bought soy oil
The only oils I don't like are"mystery oil"I want to know exactly wherewhat I'm cooking with came from(and no, I don't eat hot dogs eitherunless they're Kosher or tofu)
The first wedge is definitely the hardest to get out!
But look at that beautiful bright yellow-orange flesh!The scent was a lot like a jarrahdale's:very mild pumpkin and apples(yum!!)

Getting the second piece was a lot easier
Author vs. PumpkinAuthor wins! Pumpkin decimated!
Next step: getting out the "guts" and seeds:




And slowly, my entire counter is taken over...

I decided to cut the pieces in half



Next, a little vinegar and then some soy oilIf you put your finger over top of the bottle thuslyyou can "sprinkle" it fairly easily

and then of course sprinkle with brown sugar




For the seeds, oil, garlic powder, and salt:

Then cover the pieces w/ foil and pop it all in the oven

And a little over an hour later....please don't pay attention to the MESS my stove is!

The real challenge is going to be saving seeds for my hubby. They are SOOOO tender and yummy.If the flavor of the seeds is an indicationthis is one scrumptious pumpkin!

yeah, I know, I need to scrub my stove.

The thickest cuts took a little longer to cook,so I went ahead and started pulling pieces that were doneafter about an hour. The thickest cuts took an hour and a half.
If you're wondering why they're in a pot...it was there and I had hot pumpkins in my hands!(not literally, but I was scrambling to find a place to put themand the pot was sitting on the stove).
When it was done, the next step was to let it cool and run it through the food processor....slowly. A few hunks at a time. When it got too hard for the processor to move it, I tossed in a little apple juice I happened to have in my fridge.


And noticing how soft my hands felt after being literally up to my elbows in pumpkin goo, I decided to use some of the copious amount of it as a face mask later on! Who needs a fancy spa day, anyway? Some of it even went into my over night hair conditioning treatment--pumpkin, honey, my home made growth-promoting oil/herb blend, egg yolk, and Greek yogurt. My hair LOVED it. So did my face (same ingredients only instead of hair oil, I use olive oil) Thank goodness! Do you SEE how much pumpkin I have? And I really want another one just for the seeds!
Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

My take on Pumpkin Pie

Good grief, can you believe it's almost November! Yikes. Would somebody please tell me where October went? I swear school was just staring a few days ago. 
Today all I'm doing is tackling one thing

Pumpkin Pie
Well.
My version of pumpkin pie.

And really we're tackling a bunch of stuff because I never do things the easy way!
A few years ago, I decided to make a truly homemade pumpkin pie, the kind that starts out with a pumpkin and ends up something yummy and special. The first year, I made three, because I wanted to try out different pumpkins. 
I sampled the Rouge,  (sometimes also called the "Cinderella's Carriage" Pumpkinthis is a lovely and large French Heirloom squash
the Cheese (yes, really, that's what it's called, just look at it:)











a beautiful creamy skinned variety from New England with an unbeatable reputation in the kitchen
and the Jarrahdale because...well, it's BLUE! (the flesh is a bright yellowy orange, but who could resist the pretty blue skin? I'd bought one the year beforefor a Jack o' Lantern, and it was by far the lantern that got the most comments from passersby. 
The Jarrahdale is an heirloom winter squash from New Zealand.

When I first decided to experiment to find "the perfect pumpkin", I had to visit a farmer's market, but more and more, I'm seeing these varieties popping up in regular grocery stores. Certainly most fruit and veggie shops will carry them.

So here's what I decided, after sampling all three varieties: 

I found the rouge to be a tad stringy, and the flavor okay
but not spectacular
The cheese was a bit bland for my taste (or at least my recipe)
The jarrahdale, had the best flavor and the texture is perfect
Jarrahdale Pumpkins:

The flesh is bright, sweet, full of flavor, and it's fairly easy to work with. Whenever I have a recipe that calls for pumpkin, I use this one...okay, as long as I can then go and make six other things that call for pumpkin, because jarrahdales are kinda big. But the neat thing about pumpkins is that there are SO many things you can make with them! Pumpkin bread, pumpkin cookies, pumpkin pie, pumpkin soup, pumpkin stuffed ravioli (one of my faves), pumpkin gnocci, even pumpkin cupcakes. (I'm making pumpkin cupcakes stuffed with vanilla cream cheese and frosted with chocolate frosting to the Haunted Tea in Bay Port--mostly because I knew I wanted to do homemade pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving and I would have LOTS of pumpkin left over! But the beauty of the starting point of this recipe is that once you roast your pumpkin, you can freeze it and use it later. And yes, chocolate and pumpkin go really well together. I didn't believe it either, the first time I saw a recipe for pumpkin cookies w/ chocolate chips, but I gave it a shot and YUM!)
Okay, so no matter what you're making, you're going to be starting with this (usually) honking huge squash. First things first: turn your oven to 325 (F) and let it preheat. You'll also need a couple of cookie sheets (although baking pans work just fine too), a little olive oil, brown sugar, balsamic vinegar, (both optional, but YUM!), and some tin foil. (Even if I know I'm going to be using this pumpkin in both sweet and savory dishes, I use a little sugar and vinegar to bring out the flavor). 
Cut it into manageable sized chunks (for some people that's halves, for me that's either quarters or eights) and scoop out the seeds. I always wash these and roast them. Pumpkin seeds are an amazing snack (my husband loves them) and they're really Arrange the pumpkin chunks on the baking sheets, skin-side DOWN (skin on metal). Very lightly drizzle olive oil (other oils would be fine for this, EVO is the staple in my kitchen--that's extra virgin olive oil, the greener the better), a little bit of balsamic vinegar (really it has got to be balsamic--and only a little tiny sprinkle), and brown sugar (again, a very little bit is all you need here). If you knew without a doubt that the only thing you'd be using this for were savory foods (pumpkin ravioli filling, pumpkin soup, etc.) I would also add fresh minced garlic. But since I'm usually roasting pumpkin with multiple recipes in mind, I skip the garlic (I mean really, garlic pie? I don't think so).

Give your pumpkin seeds a wash and put them onto another tray with a little olive oil, garlic powder (optional) and a dash of salt.

Cover the pumpkin chunks lightly with tin foil--this is just to keep them from scorching (holding in the heat does improve the roast, however), it doesn't have to be a tight seal. Put them in the oven for about an hour (I start checking them after about forty five minutes; you're looking for a soft squash that you can easily slide a knife all the way into). Put your pan of pumpkin seeds in at the same time. The seeds will be done right around the forty five minute mark, so it's a good time to check on the pumpkin, anyway. Oh, and prepare for a house that smells amazing!

When the pumpkin flesh is soft, pull it and let it sit until it's totally cool. (Usually, I roast my pumpkin the night before I'm planning on doing anything with it; it's easy, but it IS a time consuming process). By the way, I really do advocate roasting to bring out the most in a pumpkin's flavor. After the pieces cool, you can peel the skin right off, no special equipment needed.

At this point, you can either puree the whole thing in a food processor/blender (or just get out an old fashioned potato masher and have at it that way--which can be GREAT stress relief)--or you can freeze it as chunks. I usually puree it and freeze in cup sized portions to make my life easier down the road. (Always use freezer bags and get all of the air out; air causes freezer burn). I don't usually bother dating my pumpkin when I freeze it because it's not like I've got that much going into the freezer at once. I'll use it all before I buy another one.

So, story time again:

The same year I decided to do homemade pumpkin pie from scratch, I had a revelation  I had it right in the middle of baking. Thankfully, I was prepping my pies the night before rather than the morning of Thanksgiving, so I had time to do a quick Google search and send hubby to the store... at nine o'clock at night. On the day before Thanksgiving. No, he wasn't amused.

But there I was, elbow deep in pumpkin guts (because I hadn't roasted my pumpkin the night before, I'd done it just then) and Grandma's recipe at the ready. Now, my grandmother was a great cook. But I was only ever "meh" on pumpkin pie. Once you topped it with a pound of Cool Whip, it was great, but by itself. Meh.

I opened up the can of evaporated milk. Don't ask me why I ended up tasting it, but the moment it hit the tip of my tongue it hit me: this stuff is AWFUL!  (Okay, okay, maybe you don't agree, my husband actually likes it). But NO WAY was I putting THAT in with these freshly baked and pureed pumpkins I'd been slaving over the last hour (remember, I'm doing three kinds of pumpkins because I want to compare flavor). Well, what can I substitute? What do I like? I like cream (minds out of the gutters folks!!)

Off to the store hubby went for heavy whipping cream (you know, the liquid stuff with a kazillion calories). But... wait... it's still missing something. I thought back to this really amazing pumpkin pie I'd had one at some restaurant. I don't recall which one, but the server talked me into it and it was so light and so fluffy and what made it that way...oh. Duh. I know exactly what made it that way. So off hubby goes again for ricotta cheese (because at that hour there was no way he'd be able to get mascarpone cheese, which is what I've used every year thereafter). And ricotta WILL work, but I really love mascarpone.

So what this really is is something between a cheese cake and a pumpkin pie, but without the insane density of either. It's a little time intensive, but it's also something you can prep the night before, stick in the fridge and pull out in the morning to bake.

Ingredients (makes 1 pie, but can be easily doubled depending on a) how many guests you're expecting and b) how much leftovers you want/don't want.)


1 1/2 c. pumpkin puree1 c. mascarpone (or ricotta) cheese1 c. heavy whipping cream 4 egg yolks (beaten)1/2 c. packed, light brown sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla
if you like a sweeter pie, you can up it to
2/3 c. --remember, you can always add
you can't take away!)

spices:
these are VERY subjective
I love cinnamon.
My husband loves ginger.
We both like a spicy pie.


1 teaspoon ground cinnamon1 teaspoon ground ginger3/4  teaspoon ground allspice1/2 teaspoon ground cloves1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg1/2 teaspoon ground anise

My grandmother thought nutmeg tasted like soap; I like it. She used a dash, I use a fair amount. She never used cloves, anise, or allspice at all. I love all three (allspice the most).  Follow your own taste buds when deciding what kinds of spices you like in your pie (and how much). I know a lot of people don't like ginger in their pie at all.

For the crust:

1 c. flour2 Tablespoons ground cinnamon1Tablespoon ground ginger1 teaspoon ground allspice1/2 teaspoon ground cloves1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg1/2 teaspoon ground anise3 Tablespoons (give or take) cold water
1/2  c. butter (real butter!!)
       room temp., but NOT softPie crust is a tricky thing. It takes a little patience, but it's a wonderful art to master.
Sift together the dry ingredients into a bowl,
then "cut" in the butter. Better yet, use a pie crust tool:

to buy one click
HERE
(or check out your local cooking/
bakeware shop)

What you'll have in your bowl full of lumps of butter and spicy flour. That's what you want!
For the next step, I switch to my mixer (actually, I cut the butter and flour/spices together in the mixing bowl and then simply pop it onto the machine and attache the BREAD HOOK)




If you don't have a mixer and bread hook, you'll have to do this the old fashioned way. Add the cold water to the mix and give it a quick stir; you don't want to blend it, you want to make the mixture moist enough to work with. If you have mixer and bread hook, all you do next is turn it on and let it go for a few seconds. Otherwise, you'll have to turn the dough out onto a non stick surface (floured cutting board or wax paper) and knead it by hand. No big deal, but yours truly is quite lazy! I love my bread hook! (It's also fun for playing pirates with!!)

Even with the bread hook, you'll still have to roll your pie crust out on that non stick surface. I like using wax paper because it makes getting it into the pan so much easier (you don't pick up the crust, you pick up the waxed paper, still very carefully... okay, details. I put the pie pan on top of the crust, upside down, then just flip. Carefully).

If you want to get really fancy, you can hold back a little bit of crust and get out some cookie cutters (I have leaf and pumpkin shaped ones). I like the top of the crust with autumn leaf shaped bits of pie crust and usually put a couple of pumpkin shaped pieces of pie crust in the middle.

And yes, you really do want to make your crust first. Make it and set it aside (in the fridge if the kitchen is hot).

Now, back to the guts of the pie.
Clean out your mixing bowl (or use a hand mixer or a spoon and some elbow grease) and whip the cream lightly (not to stiff peaks, you just want it fluffy)

In another bowl, combine the rest of the ingredients.
Slowly fold in the pie/cheese/spice/sugar/vanilla mix into the fluffy cream.
Pour it into the pie crust. Decorate if with cut out shapes if you want.
If the pie pan looks a little over full, you can set it atop a clean cookie sheet to ensure that any overflow doesn't hit the oven (messy! stinky! catches fire!!)

Bake at 425 (F) for 15 minutes, then reduce the heat to 350 (F) and bake for another 40-50 minutes.
Let cool for at least an hour before serving. (Best plan: put the pie into the oven as soon as you pull the turkey out. By the time everyone is sitting down to dinner, it should be about time to turn down the oven temp. By the time you're done eating, it's time to pull the pie. This gives folks a time to let dinner digest before diving into dessert!)

Whew. What a recipe, huh? But if you're out to impress your in-laws, this should pretty much knock their socks right off! (And his mother said you couldn't cook your way out of a wet paper bag. Ha!  ;-)

Want to make it ever sweeter?

Serve your pie with homemade ice cream; you will need an ice cream maker. Follow the instructions on the maker for basic prep (i.e., you'll need to freeze the bowl thing overnight). Make the mix the night before, chill it, and when you put the pie into the oven, set up the machine on the counter to mix the ice cream.

this is mine...well, a commercial image of the one I own
buy link HERE

The mix:

1 2/3 c. heavy whipping cream1 2/3 c. whole milk3 egg yolks2 Tablespoons REAL vanilla extract3/4 cup brown sugar
(for regular vanilla ice cream, use white sugar)

get fancy:

1 Tablespoon ground cinnamonand/or 2 teaspoons ground ginger

Method:
I'm basically lazy. I've improvised this from the original method. Whisk together the milk and sugar until sugar is dissolved. Whisk in the egg yolks and vanilla (and spices as desired), and heat very slowly over a low heat, stirring CONSTANTLY until hot but NOT boiling. Remove from heat. I like to give it just a few minutes to cool before adding in the cream. Let cool down completely before attempting to make ice cream.

Enjoy!!

(here's some music for when you're chasing your kids...or mate... around the kitchen with that bread hook playing Pirates!






Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

Excerpt (unedited) from my WIP: Hanging By the Moment

So this is what happens when I end up without as much time as I'd wanted to blog... you get a taste of something I'm working on!.......................................................................
“Make sure you wipe down ketchup and mustard bottles,” Pasha's father, Ivan Batalov, said over his shoulder as he led the way through the backdoor of the little diner. “Sharon said they looked like shit when we closed Wednesday night.”
Pasha bit his tongue on his initial sour response, that if Sharon thought the bottles needed wiping down, she should have done it herself. Sharon worked the dinner shift Monday through Thursday and had been with them for almost ten years. Little by little, she seemed to do less of her own sidework—although to be fair, she did a lot of other things for the restaurant, so maybe she figured it was some kind of fair exchange. And it wasn’t as if Pasha didn’t have time to both his work and hers in the morning—but Sharon had the same amount of dead time at the end of her shift as he had at the beginning of his. For almost three years now, Pasha had been trying to talk his father into closing up earlier, but the old man refused to budge, because once upon a time, a long time ago, they’d been busy right up until ten o’clock—eleven on the weekends—and Ivan seemed to expect it to pick back up again.
“You hear me?” he snapped when Pasha didn’t answer him right away.
“Da. Yes, I heard you.”
“Then say something so I know you listening!”
Pasha held back another angry comment. The last thing anybody needed was for his dad to be in a bad mood all day because of a stupid argument over nothing. Pasha hung his coat up on the peg by the backdoor and trudged silently to the front of the restaurant to turn up the heat. Twelve dull brown upholstered booths and three small tables sat a grand total of sixty customers—sixty six if people wanted to get cozy around the tables. Another five seats were available at the counter. The walls were painted an uninspired shade of terracotta to match the terracotta colored tiles on the floor. On Wednesday Sharon had brought in the Christmas decorations and decked the halls with glittering red and green garland. Lights twinkled around every window, more garland hung around the doors, and every light fixture was tied with a festive red bow. Miniature silver Christmas trees sat on every table shedding plastic needles and artificial snow.
It was garish.
Pasha nudged up the thermostat to the permitted sixty-eight degrees before turning on the coffee machine and starting a pot of coffee, then he headed back behind the counter to turn on the radio.“Put on news,” his dad said from the kitchen.
Pasha groaned but didn’t argue. When the old man said “news”, he didn’t mean MPR—Michigan Public Radio—or even some middle-of the road station, he meant WJR, the local home of Rush Limbaugh. Limbaugh wouldn’t be on until later in the day, but Pasha didn’t especially want to listen to the morning guy, either.
He put it on anyway, then pulled the plastic red and yellow ketchup and mustard bottles from the pie case behind the counter. Pasha combined the half empty bottles, then took the empties back to the dish room for his cousin Samara to wash when she came in at nine; there were just enough clean bottles on the shelf over the sink that he’d be able to set full bottles out on most of the tables.
When that was done, he cut lemons, filled plastic soufflé cups with salad dressing, brought clean dishes up from the back, stocked jam and jelly, and filled up the sugar, salt, and pepper shakers and at six o’clock, he turned on the neon “open” sign and unlocked the front door—and saw a huge black and silver delivery truck sitting there, taking up nearly half their little parking lot. Crap. If his dad saw it, he would have a conniption. Despite it being barely thirty-two degrees outside, Pasha decided to forgo his coat; he didn’t want his father asking why was going out.
As he approached the big black truck, the driver rolled down the window and leaned out. “Hey,” he said in a friendly tone that caught Pasha off guard.
But it wasn’t the guy’s tone that stopped him dead in his tracks. The truck driver was… damn, he was gorgeous! Pasha hadn’t thought truck drivers were supposed to be so…he wasn’t sure whether to call the guy handsome or beautiful. He had caramel colored skin, high cheekbones, and jet black hair hanging in a loose braid that draped over one shoulder. But what really held Pasha’s attention were the incredible chocolate brown eyes and full, bow shaped lips, that were curled up in a warm smile. And he realized he was staring. Pasha shifted his weight and let his glance slide away from the guy’s face.  “You ah, you’re blocking our lot. We just opened up.” And even if he didn’t expect a lineup out the door, his dad would go ballistic if he saw the truck sitting in their lot.
“Sorry about that. My GPS died and I’m trying to get someone on the phone to help me figure out where I am, but nobody’s picking up in the office. Which I guess isn’t your problem.” The trucker sounded apologetic, embarrassed. “I’ll get out of your lot.” He leaned back into the cab. 
Which should have been the end of it—except that Pasha took a step closer to the truck, and let himself look back up at the man’s face again. “Where are you trying to get to?” he asked
The trucker leaned back out his window. “Jay’s Party Store. Any chance it’s around here somewhere?”
“Sorry, never heard of it. What street is it on?”
“Wattles.”
“Jheeze, you really are lost.”
He flashed a rueful little smile. “Story of my life. I don’t suppose you could help me get un-lost?”Pasha laughed at the guy’s unusual way of phrasing the question. “Wattles is Seventeen Mile Road. You’re at Twelve and Main.”
The explanation didn’t seem to help. \Pasha curled his hands against his lips and blew on his fingers to warm them up before assuring the guy that it was easy to get to from here. “You just need to get back out on Main Street,” he began.
“You wanna hop in out of the cold?”
Pasha hesitated—but seriously, what was the guy going to do, drive off with him as a hostage? And I could think of worse fates…. Heat crept into his cheeks. “Yeah, thanks.”
Instead of motioning him around to the passenger’s side, the trucker opened up the driver’s side door and slid over, making room for Pasha behind the massive steering wheel. “I’m the one who should be saying ‘thank you’,” he said. “It’s been one of those days from the get-go.”
Pasha smiled. “Same here.” He clambered awkwardly into the cab; the delivery truck wasn’t as big as a semi, but it was a whole lot larger than his father’s old El Dorado. “I can’t believe this weather,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “It’s not even December yet and I swear it’s going to snow today.”
“They’re saying up to four inches,” the trucker told him.
Pasha groaned.
“Not a fan of snow?”
“Not a fan of shoveling snow.”
“No arguments there. I’m Daniel, by the way.” The driver pulled off one his heavy work gloves and held out his hand.
“Pasha.”
“Interesting name.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Pasha lied. “Interesting” was one of the nicest thing people had to say about his name. Most people seemed to think it was a girl’s name—of course most people thought Nikita was a girl’s name too. Only Uncle Nikki didn’t grow up over here. “Pasha’s sort of short of Pavel,” he explained. “Which is Russian for Paul. I tried going by that for a while, but…” but he was babbling. “Sorry. You’re probably more interested in getting back on the road.”
“Only because I have to get this stuff delivered by seven or my boss is going to have my ass. And notin a fun way.” Daniel’s brows shot up and his lips curled into a mischievous grin.
Pasha blinked—then gave himself a good mental shake. No way this guy meant that the way it had sounded. Statistically speaking only one, maybe two, out of ten men were gay which meant that no matter where he went, the odds would always be against him meeting another gay man—except at a gay bar. And if I ever ran into this guy there, he wouldn’t even give me the kind brush off Bobby did. If they ran into each other in the bar, Daniel wouldn’t even look at Pasha, let alone speak to him. The only reason Daniel was talking to him now was that he needed to get “un-lost” so he could make his delivery on time.
Pasha cleared his throat. “The ah, the easiest way to get to Wattles from here is get out onto Main, that’s the street out front there, and just head north—left. Main turns into Livernois a couple miles up when you hit Clawson at Fourteen Mile,” he added. Then asked, “What city are you looking for?”
“Troy, somewhere near a street called Dequinder.” He didn’t sound real sure of himself.
“You should be there no time,” Pasha promised. “When you get to Wattles, make a right. Dequinder’s just a couple miles down.”
The warmth in Daniel’s smile made butterflies start flapping in Pasha’s stomach. “Thanks. You’re a real life saver.”
“Any time,” Pasha told him.
“Guess I’ll have to remember that the next time I get lost out this way,” Daniel teased. “Or maybe I should get lost on purpose, just to have an excuse to come back and see you again.”
Pasha’s heart hammered in his chest. Daniel was flirting with him, he had to be! But why on earth would a guy who looked like Daniel flirt with him? Daniel could walk into Menjo’s any night of the week and have his pick of the men lined up the bar. Hell, Bobby would probably offer to buy him a drink.
“Well, I ah, I guess I should let you get back to work,” Daniel said with an amicable little smile, and maybe… maybe a hint of disappointment in his tone? “Thanks again for helping me get back on track here.”
Pasha as sure he was reading way too much into Daniel’s expression; stuff like this just didn’t happen to guys like him. But how could he pass up even half a chance with someone who had a smile like Daniel’s? Worst case scenario, he was wrong about the whole thing, Daniel was straight, or just not into him. Daniel would blow him off and they’d never see each other again. “Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee or something before you hit the road?” he asked before he lost his nerve. “I wish I could, Sugar, but I’m behind schedule as it is.”
“Yeah. Right. Sorry.” Duh. He knew that. Now the only question was whether or not that was a polite excuse or—
“You ah… you here all morning?”
Oh God. “All morning, every morning.”
“What, no time off for good behavior?” Daniel teased.
Pasha grinned. “Who says I behave?”
Daniel’s brows shot up and Pasha felt his cheeks growing hot. He’d never quite figured out how to flirt; sometimes he managed to say something funny, but most of the time, he fell flat on his face. “I ah… it’s a family business. There’s no such thing as time off when you’re the owner’s son.” Face, meet pavement.
But Daniel’s smile softened. “I guess I know where to find you, then.”
“Yeah. I ah… yeah, I’d like that. I mean…I… you can come back anytime you want. I… just… yeah. I’d better go.” While I have a single shred of dignity left!
“I’ll see you around, Sugar.”

....................................................

Today's recipe is for one of my favorite dishes--and it's appropriate because both Daniel and Pasha LOVE oriental food!


·        8 oz ricotta or mascarpone cheese
(I prefer the latter, but it is pricier; ricotta comes in low fat/no fat options, I don’t think mascarpone has the lower fat optiosn)·        8 oz cream cheese (at room temp) (you can buy low fat/no fat if you like)·        ¼ cup sour cream (could sub. plain Greek yogurt for lower fat/healthier alternative)·        2 packages imitation crab meat OR a cup of real crab meat (I never recommend canned, but it is an option)·        2 green onions sliced thin (including the stems—IMO the stems are the best part!)
If you don’t have or want to buy green onions, you can sub a couple of tablespoons of dried chives (or fresh, but unless you’re like me and have chives overflowing in your garden, dried is the best option)·        2 cloves of garlic, minced very fine·        Ginger, minced very fine (enough for about a teaspoon’s worth—if you sub dried ginger, you’ll only need about half a teaspoon) – if you’re like me and LOVE ginger, yes, you can add a little more!  (I seriously usually double the ginger in this recipe, but I figure not everybody loves it as much as I do). ·        2 Tablespoons soy sauce·        Juice from half a lemon (I never, EVERY use bottled lemon juice, it just does not taste the same!)·        1 teaspoon honey·        2 pkg. wonton wrappers…or if you’re like me, and a) a little lazy or b) just never have them on hand, you can substitute with filo dough and make little crab pies. The method for the filo dough is the same as for spinach pie, but instead of one big pie, I make a bunch of smaller ones, about the size of a single sheet of filo (layered, of course! One sheet of filo is way too thin. I layer four or five sheets, with a little olive oil in between—or sometimes sesame oil if I’m in the mood—plop down a little mix in the middle, then pull up the filo very carefully to make a pie-thing. Okay, not the best directions in the world, but once you’re doing it, you’ll see what I mean. The oil does a pretty good job of holding the layers together.)·        In any case, you’ll need oil, either for frying or baking. I usually use olive (my go-to oil for everything), but have recently discovered soy oil and like it quite a lot. If you like the flavor of sesame, you can use some or all sesame oil for baking/frying. It’s a matter of taste. Remember, olive oil takes higher heat than just about every other oil out there! Adjust the flame under your pan (if frying) accordingly. ·        Feeling experimental/healthy? How about adding a cup or so of chopped up spinach? ·        I’m thinking artichokes would probably taste pretty good in this too… maybe the next time I make it, I’ll add….half a can? That sounds about right. Maybe a little less. Might have to up the cheese a bit to compensate, I like things…erm. Creamy.
But first…Whip together the sour cream, cream cheese, mascarpone/ricotta cheese; blend in the lemon juice, soy, and honey, then the herbs/spices. Lastly, fold in your crab/krab meat. Remember to moisten the edges of your wonton wrappers to get them to stick. Then it’s just a matter of stuffing your wontons, making your “pie-thing” and cooking. Most folks fry wontons, you can bake them (350 degrees Celsius for ten minutes or so, just until they’re golden brown).  A fun alternative would be to make crab Rangoon ravioli (just thought of that). I love fusion food. For ravioli, all you’d need to do is make your pasta dough—maybe add in a little lemon and soy right into the dough mix…hmmm…. Parsley too, that would make it pretty. Anyway, then roll it out, cut (with cookie cutter, upturned glass—my method—or fancy ravioli maker) and stuff with Rangoon mix. Nummies! I’d serve it with maybe a light garlic and ginger sauce.Okay, if you beat me to it, here’s a basic pasta recipe:2 egg2 cup of flour3 T. water (or other liquid such as lemon juice, soy…wine)Yup, it’s that simple.Combine ingredients in a bowl, then roll out onto a floured surface and knead, adding a little more flour or water as necessary
(I use our mixer and use the bread hook attachment to knead it right in the bowl)To this basic recipe you can add garlic powder, chopped (very finely chopped) herbs, minced/mushed spinach…just about anything you can dream up, you can add. You will need a pasta roller (cheap) and some patience (priceless!) Cut the rolled pasta into the desired shape (I do recommend a pasta cutter or extruder for spaghetti and other long noodles) and let it dry for an hour or so and boil. You DO need to refrigerate un-cooked homemade pasta. I honestly only make up as much as I need for whatever I’m making. If there’s a lot of leftover dough, I’ll freeze it for later.
Happy cooking!


Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

Short and Sweet

http://www.drawtheline.org/watch-stuff/
Watch this. It's important.

Seriously.

I would have more to say today, but I got in late last night from spending a week up north (tip of the "thumb") recharging my batteries by a very chilly lake shore. (Okay, so freezing my tushy off is more like it!)

I didn't half the writing done I'd *hoped* to get done, but the first of those free stories I've been promising for Bound is almost ready... but won't go up until December. I know, I'm a tease  ;-)

I'm off, need to have a proper bath, (seeing as I didn't have hot running water all week--but it was a very small sacrifice for a week of absolute solitude, something this little introvert desperately needed), and getting ready for an AWESOME weekend of book signings!  I'll be at the Book Nook in Monroe today and....darn. I forgot where I have to be tomorrow.

BUT... I've also added a Haunted Tea at the Sweet Dreams Inn (see side panel for details) to my schedule and I'm so totally looking forward to it!

And of course over the weekend I'll be catching up on this week's episode of the Misfits! (From Logo, so really it's two years' ago's episode, but whatever.....*G*)Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

Introverts...

Oops…I promised a recipe for Saturday’s post and totally flaked!  Well, partially flaked. I thought about it on Friday afternoon…but  then forgot again.

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks doing book signings for Ghost Hunting Michigan (which reminds me that I need to update that blog, too…) and have been mostly having a super awesome time.But a couple of weeks ago, I had a very not-awesome time. And I want to share that experience with folks, because it really seemed to bring out the worst in other people and that made me very sad on a couple of levels.
To truncate a long story, at this point in time, I don’t have a whole lot of people in my life—at least not who live nearby. I’ve got some super awesome friends out of state, but it’s really hard to go out to coffee with someone who lives in New York or catch a movie with my friend in Chicago. It’s harder still to have a drink or make a big pot of broccoli soup for a friend who lives in Finland. So I was cruising on Craigslist, actually just doing some research (wanting to see what personal ads look like these days…man that’s another story altogether.) But I noticed ads for platonic relationships. Now, quite a few of these are not platonic in nature (“man seeks young hottie for afternoon delight”), but there seemed to be a few earnest people out there who just wanted to meet new people. So I decided to post my own ad, just to see if maybe there were some other folks like me: a little quiet, kind of creative, age, ethnicity, relationship status not important, I’m a happily married woman, not looking to cheat, just meet a few new people.
And within two hours, it was flagged for being “inappropriate” and removed.
Huh?
I double checked; I was in the right category. Since I had to identify the gender of people I was looking to meet, I decided to go for f looking for m, mostly because I really hoped to meet a guy who might want to go to Menjo’s with me (that’s the local gay bar I’m using as one of the settings for my WIP). Deciding to figure out what rule I’d broken, I did as Craigslist suggested and went over to the forums—where I was promptly ripped to shreds for “writing a bad ad”. 
Huh? (again).
I didn’t lie about who I was or what I was looking for… and in fact, THAT was the problem.One woman (I swear she sounded like a dude) wrote (on a public “help” forum) to inquire if by “creative” I meant that I (and I quote) that I “crochet my pubic hairs into doilies?” Yikes. When I called her on being a total jerk she told me that she meant it as a joke. I’m still not laughing. But the response that killed me the hardest, on a much more personal level, was the guy who informed me that by saying “I’m an introvert”, I was somehow not putting my best foot forward. Didn’t I understand what an introvert was? He decided to tell me, just in case I didn’t: someone who “retreats mentally”.
Um.
No.
Well, okay, maybe sort of, kind of, maybe.
Except that that isn’t the whole picture—and it’s an example of the B.S. that I’ve been putting up with all my life. See, many, many, many people (including some jerk on Craigslist) think that being an introvert is bad. It’s something to be overcome, and if we just try hard enough, we can become happy extroverts with the rest of the world.
But that couldn’t be further from the truth. How do I know? For about fifteen years, I tried. (Consciously). Growing up, I got the same treatment: Introvert is bad, extrovert is good. Only extroverts succeed. I had to get out there, grab what I wanted, be more outgoing, talk to people, go to parties….and I did it.
I was miserable.
Only I didn’t know why I was miserable until I took a class where the teacher had us take a Meyers-Briggs test. I started out answering what I *would* do in the various situations given…then went back and answered the questions according to what I would*want* to do. What I wanted to do was nearly the opposite of what I’d conditioned myself to do.
Guess what I discovered: I’m an introvert. And that’s OKAY. Yes, that’s right. It’s okay to be an introvert. The teacher talked to us about the differences between introverts and extroverts (the class was a management course, so there was a focus on managerial styles, but it really applied to life).  She made it clear that the only way for introverts to be truly happy was for us to find some time to ourselves, because that’s how we recharge our batteries.
Extroverts recharge their batteries by interacting with other people. They need human contact—introverts need human contact, too, but in smaller quantities and we usually prefer the company of people we know and love rather than crowds of strangers.
Introverts tend to process internally—we usually think more than we talk. Extroverts usually process externally—they talk it out. Both methods work for solving problems, each person just needs to embrace their strengths and weaknesses and (to quote Tim Gunn) “Make it work”. So I have a message to the introverts out there: be yourself. Don’t let anyone tell you that you’re selling yourself short, or “not putting your best foot forward” because you’re quiet. (And by the way, I’m an introvert, but I am NOT shy… which is another topic, because extroverts can be shy and introverts can be outgoing. Outgoing introverts may be in the minority, but we do exist).
It is very unfortunate that in this country introverts are so undervalued. We’re pretty cool people. 
And as for Craigslist, I chalked it up as a learning experience because, no, I hadn't broken a single rule... except for the "most important rule". I wrote an ad someone didn't like, and that's all it took.

For today's recipe...

Vegetarian Stuffed Peppers

4 red peppers (or really any color will do, but I love red the best)
2 cups of of couscous (a Middle Eastern grain) cooked according to the directions on the box
1/2 a medium (yellow or white) onion diced
1 can of artichoke hearts (cut the hearts in half)
1 tablespoon rosemary
3 cloves fresh garlic minced (or you can use a garlic press)
about a dozen pitted black olives, sliced up (or just buy a can of sliced olives)
about a dozen cherry or grape tomatoes, sliced in half
about 2 tablespoons of olive oil
1 lemon

Heat of olive oil in a skillet and sautee onions, garlic, until onions are translucent, add in the rosemary, artichoke hearts, olives and tomatoes, and cook until warm. Mix in the cooked couscous, squeeze in lemon juice.

Halve the peppers; stuff each half a pepper with a couple of tablespoons of veggie/couscous mixture.

Lay them out onto a baking pan and bake at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes.

Yum!







Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author

Autumn

Okay, so this isn't the real reason autumn is my favorite time of year, it does sound like a pretty awesome sale! (I loved DSP as a customer long before I had the opportunity to love them as an author). 
But that isn't actually what I wanted to talk about today, it just so happened that I got the notice in my inbox just as I was starting to think about today's post.
There are lots of reasons why I love this time of year: the chill in the air (especially welcome after the beastly summer we just had), the turning leaves (so beautiful), apple cider (yum!!) two of my favorite holidays, Mabon and Samhain. Yes, for those who had somehow not gotten the memo, I'm Pagan. Wiccan mostly, with a strong Shaman leaning. But that's totally another story for another day.  
This is the cover of the edition
I read, a zillion years ago when
I was 13.Autumn is a time of harvest and reflection, a time to sit back and enjoy what's left of the summer sun--and get out and take a walk under the stars. My favorite constellation is finally visible again (Orion, although really it's the dog star Sirius that I love. Blame Diana Wynne Jones [click for a great article about her] and her awesome book Dogsbody  for that one. I totally recommend it; it's a YA title but there's some real meat to its bones. I read it back in the 7th grade and it's still my favorite book of all time. Not my favorite YA book. My favorite book. End stop. Yes, there are two series that I always site as "faves"--and they are--but Dogsbody is special to me on a whole nother level).  
Cover of the 2001 editionDogsbody hit the mark for me on a couple of levels; it's set in England (and written using British spelling, punctuation, and grammar--but it's the punctuation that always throws me). The protagonist Kathleen, is an Irish girl living with English relatives, terribly discriminated against (for being Irish--I don't know what it's like these days, but this was originally written quite a few decades ago, in a very different political climate). Kathleen finds and adopts an unwanted puppy who unbeknownst to her (but well known to the reader by this point in the tale) is the living embodiment of the Dog Star, Sirius, sent to earth to retrieve a powerful weapon--after he was accused of killing another luminary with it. Famed for his hot temper, Sirius is presumed guilty and shunned by most of his fellow luminaries. 
But its no ordinary dog's body Sirius manages to get himself reborn into; the mother might be an ordinary local hound, but the father is one of Arawn's hounds. (Arawn is the King of the Underworld and leader of the Wild Hunt in Welsh Mythology). And now take a wild guess as to the location of that celestial weapon... There's the most gorgeous depiction of the Wild Hunt I've ever seen, in which Sirius joins in with Arawn's hounds to hunt down and devour a stag--a stag that then rises up and resumes its actual form, that of Arawn himself. Talk about a Pagan theme...and an autumn theme (coming 'round full circle here, oh so cleverly  ;-)  because autumn is all about harvest, but from this year's harvest come the seeds for next year's crops. Everything in nature, and in life, is a cycle. 





Helen Pattskyn, Fantasy Artist, Gay Romance Author