Nina Simone - Here Comes The Sun

Feeling Good, Nina Simone

Broken plans

I planned to go hiking today and didn't get to go! So disappointing, but there's a reason for everything. Maybe I was going to get eaten by a mountain lion or something...Couldn't sleep at all last night and a forgotten dress up day at school were the reasons. I can say I enjoyed sleeping most the day. I haven't had a day off work in 12 days and they have been some physically demanding shifts, so a break was needed. Since a lot of them have been nights, I will look forward to taking the pup to the lake tonight. My favorite time to go and I haven't been able to lately. House needed to be cleaned, too. There is always two weeks from now; always another chance - that's what keeps me sane these days. Not sure how hiking looks in the winter time. White? Maybe need some boots? Anyway, going to post some pictures of my dog at the lake I speak of. Beautiful! The link won't work. If you like dogs and want to see my pictures, copy and paste http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2094486&id=1212393130

Recent Escapades

....this is my one chance for renewal, allowing me to come back and handle it all more gracefully... and something to look forward to in the inbetween time. I think I'll start writing a note or two each time I go. My first lone trip was to Yosemite. I hiked to the top of Vernal Falls, and once there rose my eyes a few miles up where they fell on the beautiful Nevada falls. I was tired and questioning my strength. My health has been a bit in question and I know my shape for hiking isn't at its prime - but I went anyway. I knew that after a three hour drive and the beauty that awaited me, it would be a shame not to push myself that extra mile (or two - straight up!! did I mention?) But isn't that the point of my escapades? To push myself somewhere different and beautiful. A short reprieve from the stress and attempt to return a happier woman to take care of my daughter and work at my best. If you click on the above waterfall it will take you to more pictures of this wonderful reprieve...

Stink Bomb of a Woman

So, just when I thought life couldn't get any more difficult it when and did just that.
I find it quite odd that I had all these dreams and aspirations, but no ability to grab hold of them. Always inhibited somehow. I worked diligently to put myself in a position where I have the freedom to take hold of these things I waited years to pursue, but because that position requires money and lots of work I have no time to do what I put myself here to do. What do they call that? Ummm, an oxy moron or something like that...or just plain pointless maybe...I mean, how is it that no matter what I do or where I am I always find myself blocked in some way. Never able to fully be happy. Are the places I take myself wrong or the people I choose to love the wrong choice for me?
This is what I came up with: If you move a stink bomb from room to room and around different people it isn't the rooms or the people that make it stink. It is the bomb taking the problem from place to place and to different people. The solution? That bomb needs to figure out how to stop stinking or pray it comes across someone who knows how to handle its stinking baggage.

Long time since I posted anything here in my lovely blog, so I just wanted to drop a line to say I haven't forgotten you oh trusty blog. Though, I haven't been diligent in my writing and therefore haven't much to update on.
Woah am I a dreamer. From becoming a #1 Best Selling Author to owning my own little piece of downtown business district, I think my little heart does not know how to dream small.

"Oh, my life is changing everyday; in every possible way..."

Monday Morning Ponderings

Monday Morning Ponderings: 1.) Spring smells absolutely wonderful! 2.) How hard is it, really, for people to pick up their own garbage?? I'd rather pick up after my dog than a lazy person, and I end up doing both:-P 3.) "No Dogs" signs are "No fun". 4.) I love how everyone waves to each other when they are camping. I feel like I am on that show Cheers, except for knowing their names, of course...5.) How come my purse, car, and house can never all be clean at the same time? 6.)No more red tablecloths if I can't remember to not put them in the laundry with non-red items. 7.) Do I need a better memory or a shorter to-do list?

Keep writing or bust

Wow, life has been crazy and I am surprised I have found ANY time to fit in this little passion of mine. But I have, a little. Not as much as I would like to, but hey, little is better than none, right?

I can say that at this time in my life I am incredibly grateful for friends and food. There's nothing more comforting to the soul than eating an ice cream sundae or having a conversation with a real friend. Now, when I get to do both at the same time - Heaven on earth! ;) Oh, and how could I forget music? If it wasn't for the comforting ballads of Stevie Nicks, Lynard Skynard, CCR, REM, Nirvana, REO Speedwagon, The Cure, Janis Joplin, Casting Crowns, Super Chicks, Martina Mc Bride... can't name them all but don't know what I would do without 'em.

I really want to go to a poetry night at the Luna Cafe -BAD. I really want to go. Did I say that already? But the stars are just not lining up in my direction on this one. hmmmm and I used to call myself a resourceful person, could find a way to do anything!

Posted first two chapters of my newest work for class today. Hope they like it and looking forward to feedback!

Night Out with the Buds

I had so much fun with my writing buddies at Luna Cafe! It was wonderful to meet Professor Gillam and especially, to hear her read some of her new novel. The remainder of the night was spent bowling. I'd have to admit to losing the first game, but I did come back and kick but in the second. If I could have at least one outing like that a week I think I could handle the rest of week just fine:-) I'm actually thinking of heading back up there one of these Thursdays to read a poem, or at least to watch other people read theirs.

Can anyone actually make money writing poems these days?

So I have been witting a lot of poems lately. The funny thing is, I didn't think I liked poems! But for some reason every time I pull out the old laptop or a piece of paper and pen, poems come out! They roll out of my mind and off my tongue like a marble on a slide! Smooth and quick and with little or no effort. How do I make money writing those?

“There is no more effective form of expressing oneself that through writing. Especially in fiction, which allows one to remove the mask that is in place to alleviate the anxiety caused by revealing one’s true self, through the ability to illustrate life without the inhibitions of it.”

The woman sitting in the chair in front of the window

The phone rang, but Heather didn’t get up. She didn’t even look in the direction of the ring. Heather continued sitting in the same old rocking chair, staring out the same old single paned window, just like every other day the last two months.

Her brown hair seemed grayer by the hour and the fine lines around her young face were deepening at the same rate. She wore the same faded blue robe everyday she sat at that window, in the old rocking chair. He bought it for her for Christmas two years ago

People talked. They walked by the old Victorian style home and saw the woman in the window. They pointed and covered one side of their mouth with their hand as they whispered to each other about the woman who had gone crazy.

In one story, he left her for another woman. They say she went bonkers when he was packing his bags. In another neighborhood tale, she went crazy and paranoid, and told him to leave because of an affair he never really had. There were plenty of assumptions as to how the woman came to sit in front of that window, but the more important question was, what exactly was she waiting for?

Was she waiting for the man to come back? Was she waiting for another prince charming to come save her from the retched castle? What was going on in the mind of Heather Dawson as she sat, rocking, in front of the old window of the old home, growing older herself with every passing hour.

They came and got the kids after the second week of the behavior that had the whole block talking. People knew she had the two little ones and they needed more care than the crazy woman in the window could give them. Her blank stare caused concern for the little ones and when the protective services showed up, they found a house that had not been touched with a mop, broom, or loving hand, in weeks. Garbages were overflowing; trash littered the floor, and no clean bottles. The kids were in good enough health, so even though they took them, she remained in the home, instead of jail where many thought she belonged.

The rumors continued to spread and people entertained themselves with talk of the woman in the window for weeks to come. That is, until the smell appeared. It was faint at first, like old garbage. Then it grew stronger, more like a dead rat. But one day it overwhelmed Heather’s neighbor’s to the point of gagging.

People began to knock on the door, but the woman remained in her seat in front of the window. The phone rang again and again, but never captured her attention. A few even went right up in front of her and knocked on the window, but they got nothing more than a blink of her eyelids in response.

The stench grew so horrible, the neighbors called the police.

Knock. Knock. Knock. No answer.

Bang. Bang. Bang .No answer.

“How can she handle it in there? It smells like death and we haven’t even got the door open yet!” one police officer said to the other.

“Use the crow bar, Bill.”

Bill used the tool to try and pry open the door. Eventually they heard a pop sound, and the door creaked slowly open. Both officers plugged their noses and put a hand over their mouth. The putrid aroma of death filled their nostrils and they knew immediately, they had a bigger problem on their hands than a woman who didn’t clean up after herself. Bill pointed to his partner in a gesture as if to say, “You call for back up, I’ll check it out.” He got a nod from his partner in response.

Bill’s boots made the floor creak as he slowly closed ground toward Heather. His brows knit together in confusion when he saw her there, sitting and staring. Then she turned her head to look at him and the glaze over her icy eyes made him take a step back. This bitch is crazy.

“Ma’am, there is a god awful smell coming from this place and we need to know why. Can you tell me what it is?”

She opened her mouth, but for a moment, no sound came out. As if after all these months of silence, she had forgotten how to talk. Then, finally, she spoke. “I had to take him out of the freezer.”

“Take who out of the freezer, Ma’am?”

“Steve, of course. You know the man was almost 6 foot tall? He just never wanted to fit right, so I just took him out and let him lay on the floor.” Heather looked toward her feet and Bill followed her glance. When his mind registered what he saw there, he jumped back a full three steps in one leap.

“Oh my God! Derek! We got a homicide!”

Once over the initial shock, Bill reached for his cuffs and began reading the woman her rights. As he did, he fought the oncoming nausea at the sight of the murdered and mutilated man on the floor. She was using him as a footstool. He was in two pieces, one stacked on top of the other. The skin was a bluish-white where there wasn’t blood covering it.

“You’all took a real long time getting here,” she said to Bill. “It really stinks, you mind taking me out of here?” Heather pushed the body with her bare feet, as if pushing back an ataman from a couch, and stood up.

The top half of the man slid off the bottom part. Bill watched in amazement as the man’s head hit the floor and his shoulders and minced-meat torso followed. That was too much for Bill. He reached his breaking point. He grabbed his stomach and threw up, his eyes and nose dripped as the stench overwhelmed him.

His partner walked in, just in time to see the woman walk over and pat Bill on the back as he vomited.

Lily was a girl who knew how to laugh. She knew how to make friends, she knew how to have fun, and she knew how to love. With knowledge like that, she didn’t see a reason to learn anything more.

Then there were those moments, the moments she tried to ignore. In those moments Lily found herself feeling empty and sad. She would sit when it was quiet and feel a loneliness in her heart that scared her. Memories and thoughts danced dangerously in the recesses of her mind. In those moments, Lily would pick up the phone, call the first person she thought of, and see if they would like to go out. She would get dressed in an outfit that made her feel sexy and apply her makeup perfectly. Lily would slip on her high heels, hop into her car, and drive to a distraction. These distractions came in the form of clubs, parties, and road trips to unknown places. She liked to escape the town she lived in, get as far away as time would allow.

Much like the empty sadness she felt during the quiet moments when a distraction of laughter, friends, or love, was not available, she felt a stirring inside her that she should be doing something she was not doing. Lily couldn’t figure out what that thing she needed to do was. So, she would drink the thought away, make love to strangers, and do dangerous things with a smile on her face.

One night, at one of those parties she used as a distraction from her thoughts, she found a substance that made her feel exhilarated. When she took it, all was right in the world. No more lonely feeling, no more insecurity, no more fear. She wanted more of it. She quit her job so she could spend more time doing it. She found friends who liked it too and wanted to be around them as mush as possible. She introduced this substance as a wonderful medicine for unfulfilled people to her friends. And because she was a leader, they tried it too.

But one day she felt her body say, “No more.”

Lily stopped taking her special medicine. An odd, seemingly divine, stillness deep inside Lily, told her it was no longer safe to take it.

Lily laid in bed one night, feeling alone and hopeless. She asked God, “Please God! Why am I here? What do you want with me? I’m ready for my purpose; please tell me what I’m supposed to do with this life you’ve given me!”

Two days later, God answered.

Lily paced up and down the narrow hallway of her small home; her glances were frequently in the direction of the bathroom. The directions said ten minutes.

Lily looked at her watch. It had only been five. She took a deep breath and returned to the bathroom, anyway. She walked to the counter top and looked at herself in the mirror. She saw a young woman’s face looking back at her and watched as her pretty eyes filled with tears. She closed those eyes and let the tears trickle down her cheeks, without wiping them away. She knew her answer was on the counter and all she had to do was open her eyes and look down.

Ready. One. Two. Three. Lily opened her eyes and looked down. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt as if someone’s strong fist grabbed hold of her heart. “Oh, no. But, but, he said he couldn’t…”

Her thoughts trailed off as she picked up the test and stared, as if a strong enough gaze would change the verdict. But it wouldn’t. Lily set it back down and placed both hands flat on the counter top, bracing herself. She slowly raised her eyes to where she had just seen the reflection of a young girl, but there was someone different looking back at her now.

The face staring back at her was that of a scared young mother.

I want to write a short story:-)

Officially Re-familiarized with Leo and Anna

So I listened to great advice and began reading aloud this morning and fell in love with my story all over again. There are so many mistakes and inconsistencies, yes, but I think the skeleton of the story is one worth taking the time to edit, fix, buff, and polish. Now I am going to my "thinking spot" to decide what Anna will do now that Steve has shown up early and unexpectedly. Will she be brave enough to tell him the truth? Will she run away? Will he go Psycho in front of her? Or act calm now, but do some crazy things behind her back? Will she be on to him? Or will she be ignorant to exactly how bad he has become? And where did Leo go? Will he come back? When? What was he doing while he was gone? And how long will I make Anna wait to find out? Maybe she will make the wrong guess and distrust him until she finds out that he was trying to protect her all along? Maybe he was never a neighbor to begin with, maybe it's time to find out that Leo was undercover keeping an eye on Steve, and just happened to fall in love with Anna along the way? But how would that work with his being a successful businessman? It wouldn't. hmmm...

Rays of sunshine amidst the storm

You ever look up into an over cast sky with sun breaks, one of those especially beautiful ones you stop to look at even if you are in a crummy parking lot at the time? And it seems in some of these gray/black masses of clouds who hide almost the entire blue sky, that we can see those little rays of sunlight sneak their way past the darkness and shine down for the whole world to see their rebellious character. Usually when I see these triumphant beauties I think they are God's fingers reaching down to take souls up to their new heavenly home. However, lately, when I think about them I think how much life is like that sky. Sometimes clear and easy, blue and bright, but often cloudy and dark for reasons we have little or no control over. And when I think of life that way, I see those illuminating rays as those friends in my life who have taken their time and spent their effort to make my dark sky just a bit brighter. I thank God for them. Its funny how He allows us to suffer these storms but it is also Him who blesses us with the radiant light of love and friendship.

Inspiration evades me yet again

I could really use some inspiration for my writing. March is my dead line to have a rough draft novel done. I made that goal last March and gave myself one year. I am about 20,000 words short. I'm sure I could write 20,000 in the month of March if I put my mind to it, but I'm just having trouble being inspired. What will I write? And if I figure that out, who gives a crap that it has been written? I know that's pretty negative, but it is what it is.

Bob Dylan said it best...

in his song, "You're a Big Girl Now."

Cookies and Control Top Underwear

I found myself walking around Walmart this morning, in my hands was a wad of all different kinds of Control Top Panty Hose, slimming underwear, and a package of Pepperage Farms Milano cookies, double chocolate. Did I bother to get a cart to conceal some of it? Of course not, that might actually save me embarrassment. I'm starting to think I am glutton for punishment. I sure gave the cashier a laugh when i set them all down and said, "Cookies and Control top, makes sense, right?" Her reply was, "Actually, it does." With a laugh and an understanding smile she also told me to stop my McDonald's on my way out. If she had only known the temptation I felt when I walked by it on the way in. What happened to the size 6 days? Yes, even after kids I made it back there. These days, it's a size 10, tummy tuck undies, a push up bra, and a lot of cookies. What happened to me?

I like Walmart. It is a place I feel perfectly comfortable, my own kind are there. Those who lived in their Grandma's garage and thought it was the best because they were close to their mama, those with two dads, one who cared and one who just couldn't even if he wanted to, which he probably did. Those people who were destined to be stuck in trailer parks, like it's in their veins, my kind of people. You want to know something? I hate it when people make fun of Walmart because of the people who go there. Whew, I feel better now, I've been wanting to say that for a long time. I despise it when people judge others just because they are "Walmart type folk." I imagine I must be an undercover one or it wouldn't be my very own friends who feel comfortable to say such things in my presence. I mean, they are putting down my peeps here! They are people too! I like going to Walmart because it is there that I will yell at my kids just as I do at home, instead of saying all the proper "please and thank yous" in public and then being my true self at home where no one can see my motherhood flaws. Maybe it's not so much that people who shop at Walmart are bad people, are lesser class than those who shop at say, Target. I find it refreshing being around people who are real and don't hide their true selves in public and then let it all hang out at home. I am white trash in clean clothes. I lived in a garage, I lived in the bad part of town and never noticed, I lived in a trailer park, my car trunk was my closet for years, and I've walked around barefoot with a baby on my hip. And I'm loved for being that way, so the next time you think to talk bad of Walmart people remember that they are just like you, but not hiding their bad parts. They let it all hang out and I love them for their honesty.

Life, ahhh crap

I so wish things were different sometimes. Wish life were different. Wish people were different. There are so many things that feel so far away, I'll never touch them because of choices I've made. How can anything be impossible? I never used to believe that to be true, but wonder now if there really are some things that are just unattainable. And if I got them, would I want them then? I think so. But didn't I once want what I have now?

Writing with children

I hear these stories about fabulous authors writing these amazing stories under less than great conditions, a child sitting on their lap even. Personally, my mind just does not work when I have a kid hanging on me, talking to me, in the same room. How do they do it? What's the trick? Do they have stronger minds, or maybe, quieter children?

You love me! You really love me!

So, I thought no one gave a crap if I blogged about my mundane life, but I suppose they do. Wahooo! What's new? I don't feel like I have to throw up anymore! That's awesome! Right? Yes, it is.

Met with the writers group this morning. Very cool group of people. Going to try to get a job at Barnes and Noble. Has nothing to do with money and everything to do with my love for the smell of books. Not.

I'm literally sick and tired. So much for being positive!

There has to be a way to get a schedule down where I can do some writing. I mean seriously!

I have every intention of getting some real work done today...after all the other crap I have to do to get ready for tomorrow. Oh why can't I lock myself in a cabin in the woods and become one of those super cool writing hermits for a couple months. I think that would be helpful.

Going to watch my two year old niece today. The "amazing cartoon box" doesn't work quite as well on the toddlers, so I may not be getting much work done today. Should be spending time with her anyway. She's cute as a button.

Although, I have to admit, the day before yesterday I got out the 'ole laptop and got to work on a new story. I made a couple paragraphs of progress putting some detail into what I had already written. But then the Husband came to talk to me about something or another and the focus was gone. Being as how I cannot get people to understand I shouldn't be interrupted if I am in front of the computer typing away, I need to figure out a way to regain my momentum once it has been screwed up.

So we went bowling last night, and not just any bowling, cosmic bowling! I don't think bowling was meant to be done to rap music with an ominous mist spreading over the lanes. I get enough fog in the valley at the butt crack of down when I am taking the kids to school; not at the bowling alley too! I guess I got cosmic bowling and rock n bowl mixed up. I can say I got a 127, which may not seem that fantastic to you, but for me, it is! And Macaroni Grill Mushroom ravioli is delicious! Too bad I ordered the lasagna! How do I know the mushroom ravioli is good then? Well, because much to my Husband's irritation, I sneaked a few off his plate and into my mouth! HA! Take that hubby O' mine. You think you can beat me at bowling? Well, I'll just eat all your ravioli then! How do yo like them raviolis... I mean, apples?

Kids are still at the parents house, husband is gone to work, and I am all alone. Alone, I think i forgot what that was. Lovely!

Need more discipline!

Ended up on the phone all morning instead of writing like I planned. Now I have to take a shower and get ready, or I might end up in my PJS all day. Did get some laundry put away, so not a total waste of a morning. I really want to come up with a writing schedule that I must stick to. Lock myself in the room, put on some music, and be done with the world for a couple hours a day. Enter a reality of my own creation and have a ball.

Stephen King was right when he said (in "On Writing) that you need to write everyday or your story struggles. I just want to start something new, or re-write the whole thing. Probably the latter of the two. Right now the story has so many contradictions from forgetting what I previously wrote, being that it may have been a week or two before beginning again.

A quiet place to get some work done...

I think I finally realized that if I don't get a quiet place to call my own, I'm never going to get this book done. When we get a new desk I might move the old one back to the bedroom and lock myself in there for a couple hours a day.

Distractions

I don't know if it is me making an excuse or if there really are an obscene amount of distractions every time I try to get in the zone, "the writing zone."

PJs till Noon okay if you're writing?

I'll go ahead and say yes. If I am being productive then I will stay in my PJs as long as I please, thank you very much! And if I am reading, then I'll just deal with that guilt.

Being with friends is the best, especially if they're writers!

There's nothing like hanging out with people who share your same interests. Whether the inspiration comes while with them, or apart, I know my gratitude belongs to them for simply accepting me the way I am: The geeky writer who enjoys snorting while giggling, corny jokes, and writer pun. Being around people like me makes me feel less alone in the world, and more ready to take on that world. A place with no judgements or scrutiny, no discouragement or anger. I know if I fall, they will pick me up, and if I succeed, they will cheer me on. And to top it off, I would feel blessed to do the same for them, anytime, anywhere, because they are my writing buds, and I love them!

Not today

Today will not be the day of making progress. Busy and tired were on the agenda, now sleep. Writer's group tomorrow. It is always a blast, so that will be fun. Maybe I'll catch some inspiration there. Can't think, much less type. Feel like I should post something of worth so here is a poem written a year ago or so. Don't normally do these, and haven't much of a clue on the mechanics, but was inspired. This is actually the least revealing of them all. Too "shy" to post the others. Can't believe I am actually timid in an any area. Usually don't care what people think. At all. Guess not always.

My soul is astir,
and my heart must concur.

Everyone around me thinks everything is all right,
I still am left restless at night.

To what effect does this have?
the next morning I feel bad.

If only I could figure out the source of this discontent,
I fear my view may be slightly bent.

For if I was seeing clearly,
I would know why my thoughts are so dreary.

Why when all is right in the world,
I feel so uncurled.

At those times in the night,
I feel God says, “Write!”
It is with him that I seem to fight.

Why do I resist him so?
He must be the one to know…

What is in my heart at this time,
that tends to be so hard to find.

I feel like the words on this page are jumbled,
my thoughts come through in a mumble.

Why do I get this block?
When I can’t stop looking at the clock.

Thinking I should be better at this by now,
if this were really the way how…

“There is no more effective form of expressing oneself that through writing. Especially in fiction, which allows one to remove the mask that is in place to alleviate the anxiety caused by revealing one’s true self, through the ability to illustrate life without the inhibitions of it.”
anonymous

If spell check takes hours...

If running the spell check on your 70 some odd pages takes hours, you suck at spelling! I knew I was horrible with grammar, but seriously! Oh well, all in a days work;) (I spelled grammar wrong the first time, too! haha)

Got something done this morning!

The plus side to having a five year old wake you up at 5:20am because she has decided, "Papa and Grandma wake up at this time; so I am going to wake up at this time everyday!" is getting an early start on that hour of writing. And what a great hour it was. Leo is so hot, and Steve is such a Psycho! Anna has decided to be stronger than the average damsel in distress! Hannah might be having some health problems soon. Leo's going to help Anna with that. Meanwhile, I think Steve will be screwing up Leo's plans to protect Anna from him. I think I just might have a plot twist on my hands!!! What if the guy who is supposed to be helping Leo ends up being blackmailed by Steve, instead? We shall see!

Another day, another hour

We'll see if, after the birthday party and laundry,I succeed in getting anything done today. Time will tell. Literally:)

btw reading Stephen King's "On Writing" It's like my body can't settle on whether it wants to belly laugh or cry!

Back on track!

Although every time I look at chapter two I think it's a big piece of crap, I feel something rising in me that is going to change that. The drive to make the whole thing so stinkin spectacular is within me, and I feel all I need to do is tap into it. Actually, what I really want to do is finish the book; give it an ending and go from there. If I could just finish it, I think that would get me more pumped to polish it, too. I suppose that's the order I should have been following all along. And since I am meeting with my lovely writers group this morning, I should be in the mode to do some writing today. Somewhere between picking the kids up and making dinner, I think:-)

Today

Today has the possibility to be a busy day, which usually means getting absolutely no work done whatsoever. But since I will have to come here and tattle on myself tomorrow if I use that as an excuse, I will be making an effort to get something done. Anything. Working on editing chapter two, preferably. Well, I guess I could do that right now. Yes, that's what I'll do!...see ya

Chapter One

Chapter One


“Yes, Mrs. Wilkes. Sure, I’ll be there first thing tomorrow morning,” Leo reassures his oldest tenant. “Yes, okay, bye Mrs. Wilkes.”


Leo owns most of the block he lives on in this prestigious little section of Tustin, as well as many other properties all around the County. Besides paying an obscene amount of taxes, Leo’s most pertinent tasks are fixing broken faucets, toilets, cupboards, fans, and so on. Yeah, he could hire someone else to do the maintenance, but Leo’s father taught him while he was young that a man isn’t worth a crap unless he’s working with his hands. So, yes, Leo could sit behind a desk all day and have everyone else do the work for him, but he’s not that kind of guy.


Although, with as many homes as Leo owns and the other obligations he has taken on, he keeps busy. Right now, at the end of a very long day, all he wants to do is an hour of weight lifting, take a cool shower, and veg in his lazy boy.


Leo’s home is a bachelor pad. Complete with black leather couches, a bow flex in the center of the living room, very few pictures on the walls, and a huge big screen TV in front of the recliner. Leo has never been able to make it past bachelor status, finding it hard to get serious with the women in this area. Orange County is not exactly the place to find a woman with depth and sincerity. Most the women here sincerely want to know how deep Leo’s pockets are. Considering they are deep, due to hard work and dedication, Leo never knows if she likes him for him, or for his bank account. He figures he doesn’t need a woman anyway. He’s busy enough as it is, no time for a high maintenance chick.


Leo clicks on the air conditioner; these August nights have been sweltering. He grabs a hungry man from the freezer, pops it in the microwave, and grabs a beer. While waiting for his chicken fried steak TV dinner to heat up, Leo glances out the window at the darkening sky. He notices the new neighbors are back with another load. Standing at the window, Leo takes a swig of the frosty beer and licks his lips, savoring the flavor of a day well done.


Leo observes the young man and woman work together; their graceful motions and silly banter brings a visual of dolphins swimming. He finds himself uncharacteristically curious, so he continues peering out his kitchen window, across their yards and the neglected flowerbed that joins them, at the interesting couple who have captured his interest.









#

“I think that’s it for the boxes,” Anna tells her brother. She sets one down on the cobblestone driveway of her new home, and wipes the back of her hand across her damp forehead. Turning her attention to the house, Anna notes that her quaint three bedroom with a picket fence could probably fit in the living room of this six-bedroom plantation style mini-mansion.


“All we have left now is the fridge,” Sam says, with poorly concealed dread. He casually leans back on the U-Haul with a knee bent and foot up, like a rockabilly guy from the movie Greece-minus the cigarette and leather jacket.


Anna adjusts the straps of her blue tank top, the humidity causing them to stick to her skin. She glances down at her dirty jeans and dusty top, and sighs. Anna reaches for her ponytail in an attempt to straighten it up a bit, then drops her hands, realizing it will not make much difference. There is no way she is going to look decent after twelve hours of moving in the Southern California sun.


Anna looks to her brother, and notices his spotless designer jeans are a stark contrast to her grime covered ones. How he can do the same work, in the same heat, for the same amount of time, and end up looking just as fabulous as he had this morning is a mystery to her. She stares at him, recognizing it is just another one of his numerous endearing quirks. Anna can’t stop the tears clouding her adoring gaze.


“I’m going to miss you, Sam.”


“Geez, Anna. You know I’ll be over all the time.” Sam throws a reassuring arm around her.


Anna punches him in the shoulder, and laughs, “That’s what I’m worried about.”


Sam rubs his arm, feigning pain, and speaks with flamboyant hand gestures. “Oh, you stop it! Like you haven’t been the one calling me everyday for the last three months, hmmm?”


Sam wiggles his eyebrows at Anna; one of the many things he does that never fails to get a smile out of her.


“Yeah, well...” Anna twirls the end of her blonde ponytail around her finger. “…Steve has been working like crazy lately. It’s like I never see him anymore.”


“That’s being married to a lawyer, sweetie.”


“We’re not married yet, Sam.” Anna rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I’m just grateful you’re helping me. God knows I can’t move that fridge by myself.”


Sam and Anna were born two minutes apart, and haven’t left each other’s side since. Their parents sold the second crib when they realized there would be no rest for them if they didn’t let Sam and Anna share one. When the twins were older, and had separate bedrooms, they wore out the old hallway carpet between them. People always said they would have been happier had they been born conjoined twins.


The two had been hard at work since dawn, packing and moving all of Anna and Steve’s possessions. Steve and Anna had lived in separate homes, on completely different sides of town, in more respects than simply distance. Anna had invited Steve to live in her home on Cherry Street; he told her it was not an appropriate place to raise their children. Anna thought the character, charm, and closeness of family would make it perfect. But why argue? She had wanted Steve to be happy, after all, they would be his kids too.


However, recently, this moving-in together and talk of marriage was not sitting well with Anna. Worse yet, it was a horrible time to be having second thoughts. It wasn’t that Anna never wanted to get married, or have a beautiful home and children, but she was no longer ready to have either of them with Steve. He had been acting... differently. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something was not right. The thought of saying vows while feeling this way filled her with anxiety, not to mention bringing a child into the world under uncertain circumstances. The overwhelming feeling that she was already in too deep was what kept her from putting a stop to everything. Anna felt she had to have some kind of hard evidence to support her suspicions before she could abandon the commitment she made. Her mind flickered to the image of herself in the mirror, with a dusting of deep purple around her left eye. She shook her head, trying to rid it of the imposing memory.


“Hey, slow it down Sis; let me help you with that one. Don’t want you to straining yourself.” A mischievous smirk spread across Sam’s face.


Telling Anna she can’t handle something only makes her try harder. And it did. Anna gave her brother a sharp look and struggled with the box all the way to the garage, where she set it down, and pretended she had not hurt her back.










#

Leo knocks back the remainder of his beer, and feels like a creep for having spied on his neighbors for the duration of it. He had been in a daze, and didn’t realize it until he was taking the last swig. Leo made a half turn toward the humming of the microwave and aroma of his dinner, may not be gourmet but it made his stomach growl. Before he had completely turned his back on the view of his neighbors, Leo saw out of his peripheral vision that they had gone into the U-Haul and were struggling with something large.


Oh, just a refrigerator.


A refrigerator!


Leo jets out the front door, just as the microwave beeps, and over the weedbed that separates the two houses. They’re going to kill themselves!


“Hey, you guys look like you could use a hand,” Leo tells them, moving into position next to the woman on the pushing side of the fridge.










#

Anna wants to tell the stranger they don’t need his help. The mood she’s in is irrational. Of course they need help. But she wants help from Steve, not some stranger. Wondering where the hell Steve is, Anna turns to tell this good Samaritan that she is perfectly capable of moving a refrigerator; all those arm exercises at the gym weren’t good for nothing. Although, when she glances to see who their helper was, she is stunned into submission.


“Um, yeah, thanks,” is all she can push through her lips. Where did Leo Braxton come from? Leo Braxton, the guy who donated so much to the hospital, where Anna is a nurse, they were finally able to do the much-needed improvements to the pediatric unit. Leo Braxton, the guy who owns so much property in Orange County they might as well call it Braxton County. Leo Braxton, the man who lets down-and-out women with children and widows live in his homes, rent free, until they can get back on their feet. She realizes her helper really is a Good Samaritan. And a good looking Samaritan at that.


By the time their helper told Sam he was going to push on three, Anna had recovered from her shock. She had seen him in the newspaper before, but never up close, much less four inches from her face. He looked about her age, twenty-seven, even though she knew from the article he was thirty-one.


Taking a moment to look at him, or more accurately, study him, Anna notices his strong jaw has a blanket of stubble, and his skin is tan as if he spends a lot of time in the sun. His toffee colored hair is the kind that probably looks good whether he does anything with it or not, and she is extremely tempted to run her fingers through it; a thought she finds quite disturbing. His muscular physique and large hands lead her to believe he is a man who works with them. Newspaper articles describe Leo as a successful businessman, but Anna suspects he is much more.


Anna was fixed on his perfectly proportioned lips when he turned his eyes on her. She flushed pink from her throat to her cheeks, which usually embarrassed her, but she was too mesmerized by his green eyes to care. They were that rare kind of emerald; the kind that magnetically held whatever gaze they sought. She found it difficult to look away.








#

Leo was on two, the number three on the tip of his tongue, when he risked a glance at the woman standing next to him. The woman was looking at him as if she had seen a ghost. She seemed to be studying him, which would have been uncomfortable if he had not had the urge to do the very same thing.


Her eyes, the ones looking so intently at him, were the bluest blue he had ever seen. Her hair was like snow, and no dark roots; he couldn’t remember the last time he saw a natural blonde. She was thin but curvy in the right places, and taller than he thought from the window of his house. This woman was a natural beauty. When she glanced up, assaulting him with those deep blue pools, Leo lost count.


Instead of three, Leo said, “Hi.”


“Hey,” she said.


“I’m Leo Braxton.” Leo removed his right hand from the refrigerator, and extended it to her, leaving the weight to rely solely on his left arm.


“Anna,” she replied, removing her right hand to connect with his.


Anna and Leo stood there for a long moment with their left hands on the fridge and right hands connected, as if they were making a treaty over a holy refrigerator.


“Thank you,” she said, earnestly.


“No problem. I sure as hell wasn’t going to let you guys move this thing by yourselves while I watch out the window.”



“Hey Annie! Remember me? Sam! You and your handsome neighbor can start pushing the fridge anytime now!”


Exchanging a smile, the new acquaintances help get the refrigerator through large oak double doors, passed the grand entryway, and into the impressive kitchen. During their effort Anna confides, “I do appreciate you helping Leo, but that’s not what I was saying thank you for.”


Leo wondered what this woman could possibly be thanking him for, and was interested in finding out, but he couldn’t get past how much he liked the sound of his name on her lips. He turned to face her, the wrinkling of his forehead showing his puzzlement.


“The hospital. Your donation to the hospital has done so much.”


“Oh, well uh, you’re welcome,” Leo said.


He wasn’t used to such a personal response to his donations. Leo didn’t know exactly what to say.


Turns out, he didn’t have to say anything.









#

“What’s going on here?” Steve’s deep voice demands.


Goosebumps spring up on Anna’s arms.


Great, now he shows up! Anna had been wishing all day that Steve would make an appearance, but, of course, he decided to make his presence while this handsome stranger stood beside her. She knew Steve would not like it. Not like it all. The butterflies were at war in the pit of her stomach.


Anna took in the flush of his face and rigid set of his jaw. Not good.


She was pretty confident he would not hurt her again; last time was a fluke accident, she pushed him too far, and he had too much to drink. However, if she were honest with herself, Anna would have to admit that she was not completely sure what Steve was capable of.


But Anna was not being honest with herself, in fact, she was in complete denial.


The air was so thick with tension, Anna’s chest constricted. This is why she was all the more happy when Leo broke the silence, rescuing her from the task. Somehow, she was sure that was exactly his intention. And she was grateful to this curious stranger.

Again.

Inspiration

As the sun decides to peek out, revealing himself to the world, my urge to write has risen from its dormant position. Inspiration still evades me, and I haven't a clue where to go get some, but I know I need to get working, and soon. This procrastination and excuse making leaves my word count hovering somewhere above 37,000. Not so bad if my my goal hadn't been 50,000. And beside the word count goal is the goal to stay on task and get it done! Anything done. Instead of constantly moving onto the next endeavour, before finishing the first! Are these tangent novels inspired and meant to be pursued, or just my excuse to never finish the one I seem to be struggling on?

Welcome to my Blog

Wow, so I finally got one of these going. Hopefully I will write some real interesting stuff and not let down those who click on me! But my wit seems to be at a low on this dreary day, so I will say goodbye, with big promises for interesting comments at a later date! ;-D