WORDLESS WEDNESDAY - FUNNY!!

Yeah, like my posts would ever be wordless. This week's post, I think, are things we find funny. At least, that's what I'm going to do. Oh and I suck since I've forgotten Male Hotness Wednesday the last couple weeks. So here he is:

Aaaaand you're welcome. Now here are things that I find funny. 

Now run over and check out what the other bloggers find funny.

Bronwyn
Jessica D
Paige
Kellie

MAY PROMPTLY PENNED

Okay, so our prompt this month was: Write about the three things he could never tell her. And here it is. I hope you all will enjoy it.

Cait curled up next to Grigori and sighed. She was happy. Go figure. She never thought she’d meet someone who understood and accepted her. Hell, he did more than that, he loved her. And now they were talking about buying a home together. Spending the rest of their lives together.

Her friends though kept telling her to wait. Cait could sort of understand why. Grigori was an intimidating man not just in size, but in temperament. Cait’s best friend, Natalie, called him The Viking. Of course, not to his face. The man topped seven foot and had shoulders that could block out the sun. And Cait did love those shoulders and everything attached to them. Her friends didn’t know him though. He was funny and kind and, sort of, shy. He knew his size overwhelmed people so he didn’t say much, which made him come off much more intense than he actually was.

Her friends would grow to like him, hell her sister, Jill, already did. And Jill didn’t like anyone. In fact, Jill has called him good people and told Cait to hang on to him. Cait planned on it since not only was the man an incredible human being, but his large size made Cait feel tiny and waifish. Plus, he was a beast in bed. Oh yeah, he was perfect for her.

“What are you thinking about?”

His low, growly voice made her smile. Damn, she loved to hear him talk. His voice alone made her wet and needy.

“I’m just thinking that I’m happy.”

He rolled so the two of them lay face to face. She ran her fingers through his heavy dark hair that he wore past his shoulders. Yep, if she had gorgeous hair she’d wear hers long too. She even liked his beard, hell she loved his beard and how it felt rubbing against her body.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need to tell you some things. About me.”

Nervous. Grigori was nervous. That made Cait nervous.

“Okay,” she said, slowly. “You’re not going to tell me you’re married, are you?”

He blinked. “No, hell no. Cait, you’re it for me. I love you. Why would you think that I’m married?”

“That’s the first thing that popped in my mind when you said you needed to tell me things.”

He sat up and laughed. “No, I am not nor have I ever been married. Shit, marriage wasn’t something I even considered until I met you.”

Cait pushed herself up so she could hug him. “So, what is it?”

“Okay, so you know the shop we met at?”

“Of course, the one with all the gorgeous wood furniture pieces that I was drooling over?”

He nodded. “I made them.”

Cait blinked. “Excuse me?”

“The furniture. I make it. That’s what I do for a living.”

“I thought you worked in the shop?”

“Yeah, I sort of do. I own the shop and sell my pieces there as well as work on private commissions.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I’m an idiot.” He ran his hand over his face. “In the past, when people realized I made furniture, they’d ask me for pieces. So I just got into the habit of not talking about it.”

Cait nodded. “I understand. People ask me to do computer stuff for them and expect it to be for free. Because, you know, I can do that. Not comprehending, or wanting to comprehend, that it’s my job and how I make my living.”

“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”

“No, not mad, but going forward let’s be honest with each other. I love you and want this to work, but hiding stuff…I can’t do that. I need to be able to trust you.”

“Then I have one more thing to share and…fuck, there’s no easy way. Just know that I love you and would never, ever hurt you.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.”

Cait frowned as he rose from the bed and stood in the middle of the room. He was naked and God he was magnificent. Focus, she told herself. Get your mind off his fabulous body and concentrate on what he’s saying.

“Look, I’m just going to show you.”

Cait blinked rapidly as Grigori’s form began to blur into a shower of multi-colored sparks. A second later a gigantic beast stood where the man she loved had been. She scrambled back as the animal moved slowly toward her. It reminded her of a huge cat, but was bigger and thicker with dark reddish brown fur etched with black lines. And why did she care what it looked like? Other than she wanted to know what was going to eat her face off.

The animal blurred and a moment later Grigori stood before her. She didn’t speak, but watched the man she loved. The man who had somehow turned into a cat beast. Not possible. None of this was possible.

“So, yeah, I’m a shifter.”

Cait slowly nodded her head. “Uh, yeah.”

Now run over and check out what the other ladies have in store for you.

Bronwyn
Kris
Jessica D
Paige

WHAT I WANTED TO BE WHEN I GREW UP

Okay, so when I first saw this topic I laughed. Because, yeah, I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Truthfully, I'd go with someone dropping a huge pot of money on me and living out my life as a wastrel gabillionaire. Buuuuut, I don't think that's going to happen. Dammit! And growing up . . . yeah that's probably not going to happen real soon either since, on a good day, I average about twelve and a half. 

Anyway, the very first thing I remember wanting to be as a kid was a teacher. 

I remember forcing my poor sister, dog and stuffed animals sit in chairs as I "taught" them on my chalkboard. My Mom even bought me old textbooks to use in my teaching endeavors. 

For a brief time, I pretended I was a nurse. I read this amazing book Cherry Ames, Student Nurse over and over. 

I made my own nursing cap out of paper and would nurse my stuffed animals in the ward I created using the two bedrooms and the living room. Mom even bought me a doctor kit. Sometimes, I made my sister be a patient and she'd actually get the candy pills. She was so privileged. 

I had the usual daydreams about being a famous dancer or singer, but those pitiful professions faded in the face of becoming a pirate or incredibly warrior princess.

I wanted to be Xena before she'd ever been created. The best way to become all these amazing women was to write. I began my writing "career" at about twelve when I wrote my first book. It was all about an incredible female pirate. I don't remember much of the plot, but she sailed around, stole stuff and everyone feared and worshiped her. 

From there, my imagination could not be stopped. I could spend my days daydreaming amazing stories where I could star in each and every one of them. Yeah, I'm sure you can figure out what my grades in school were. LOL! Not good. 

I can thankfully say I've lived out two of my dreams. I was a classroom teacher for 5 years and taught in a museum for 5 years. I've also been a published author for fifteen years. Unfortunately, I can't figure out how to become a warrior princess. If anyone has an idea let me know. I am so open. 

Now go and check out what the other bloggers have to say. I will see you all next week. -- Gwen

Bronwyn
Jessica D
Paige
Kayleigh

NOSTALGIC NOTES: BOOKS

I've always loved to read. I remember, as a child, riding in the cart while at the grocery and Mom telling me if  I was good I could have a book. Yeah, you'd better believe I was good. I wanted a Little Golden Book. And yes they sold those at the grocery when I was a kid. 

I know I had tons of books, but there are ones that stand out for me. The first one I remember reading on my own was LGB Bedknobs and Broomsticks.

I loved the story of a woman learning to be a witch and flying a magic bed to a magical kingdom. I remember having to go into Mom to have her help me pronounce Naboobu. Other than that, I could read the book all on my own. 

Another book I loved was another LGB called The Monster at the End of the Book

It was so daggone cute and I read it over and over. I loved Grover. When I was old enough to jump to "chapter books" Mom started getting me Nancy Drew.

I thought Nancy's life was so exciting as she drove around in her fabulous convertible and solved crimes. I loved the books so much, Mom signed me up for a Nancy Drew club and they would mail us a two book set each month. I couldn't wait for the book to come in the mail. 

I know I've mentioned it before in past blog posts, but The Secret Garden was my very favorite book.

My grandma bought it for me and I devoured it. I still have that original copy she gave me as well as many others. I can't even tell you how many times I've read it, but when she first got it for me I bet I read it four or five times. As soon as I finished it, I would restart it. She also got me Little Women and I liked it, but nothing close to The Secret Garden.

Another girl detective I loved was Trixie Belden

I discovered these on my own on one of our many trips to the bookstore. I was hooked from the first book and Mom was so thankful she had a new idea for gifts. 

In the middle of reading girl detectives, I also discovered romance novels. I was probably 12 when I read my first one. Unfortunately, this was back in the 70s when the books weren't good at all.

Yep, I read the above book. And when I finished, I was sorely disappointed. Not only did they kill off the "indian maiden"-- Yuck--but the author did it in a graphic horrible rape scene. When I finished the book, I thought, I can do so much better. There was one book I really loved though. It was called The Windflower by Laura London

I liked the book because there were parts of it that made me laugh. That was the first time I realized that romance novels didn't have to be all serious. Yes, he was a total jackass (as all men were in novels of this period), and I would have so kicked him to the curb. But the book was fun and that's what made it different. 

Now run out and see what books the other bloggers wax nostalgic about. I'll see you next week! -- Gwen

Bronwyn
Kellie

APRIL PROMPTLY PENNED

Hello! If you haven't seen a Promptly Penned post before it's really simple. We are all given the same prompt and we have to craft a small piece. Easy? Sometimes and other times not so much. This month the prompt says:

You stumble upon old home videos of you and your siblings as toddlers. Nostalgia fades when you realize something isn’t quite right. 

*que ominous music* Bwahahahahaha! Okay so here goes:

Images flickered across the screen as Tara slowly sat forward in concentration. She’d recently had her family’s old, fragile 8mm films transferred to DVD, but hadn’t watched them. Until now.

Making a night of it, she’d popped popcorn and settled in to indulge her need for family long gone. Aunts, uncles, grandparents and parents, long passed, danced and laughed silently across her television screen. Her older siblings and cousins, just small children, ran and chased one another as they engaged in silent screams of happiness.

At the start of the evening, she’d laughed and kept a mental file of things to tease her brothers and sisters about. Hairstyles and clothing choices, so fashionable in the seventies, were ones they wouldn’t want to be reminded of now. As the late in life baby, she’d thankfully missed feathered bangs and bell-bottom jeans. She’s also missed time with her parents who had died when she was only eight.

Nostalgia though had taken a backseat when she’d seen a man moving through the flickering frames. He’d appeared in the first film her grandfather had taken in the early sixties. She’d noticed him because he was so handsome, with dark curling hair and high cheekbone, and she didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t family, she was sure of it.

As she’d continued to view the films, she become more focused, because every time the camera panned around, the man was there, watching, staring. At her? Tara shivered. Stupid thought. What was she twelve? So what an unknown man popped up over and over through the films. So what that he always looked the same no matter what year it was. And that was stupid too. People aged, it was inevitable. The films were taken with an old technology that made things grainy and slightly off.

Yawning, Tara knew she should turn the DVD off. She had to work the next day, but still she watched. The search for the man was like a macabre game of Where’s Waldo. Every single time, just when she thought he wouldn’t be there, he’d show up. Family friend? And, if he were in all the films, why wasn’t he in the family pictures? He wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t. She’d looked through the pictures all the time growing up and this man hadn’t been there. So why did he appear now?

And that was a crazy question. He didn’t appear. He’d just happened to be at all her family’s gatherings. Or at least all the ones they’d filmed.

She moved to sit closer to the screen, unable to stop herself. Because she’d noticed something else. No one spoke to him. Not one person turned to him and smiled. They acted as if he weren’t there. As if he was …

“Enough,” she said aloud.

Grabbing up the remote she forced herself to stop the DVD and eject the disc. She was tired, that’s all. Tomorrow she’d call her sister, Hannah, and they’d laugh at her overactive imagination.

She put the disc on top of the player and headed to her bedroom. Tara decided she’d read for a while then head to bed. No more videos. No more strangely handsome strangers. And the guy wasn’t a stranger. And there’d been nothing weird. Overactive imagination fueled by too much popcorn and too much work.

After brushing her teeth, Tara climbed into bed and plumped her pillows up. The ceiling fan whirled softly as she leaned over to set her alarm. As she settled back against the pillows she noticed an odd glow emanating from her living room. It was the television. She obviously hadn’t turned it off.

Rolling out of bed, she moved through the dark house. The light flickered and she walked into the room to find images playing across the screen. Her grandmother laughing as she moved her lips, obviously talking to someone off camera. What? No, that wasn’t right. She’d ejected the DVD. She knew she had.

A movement to her right caused her to stumble back as the man from the film. The man who looked no older than he had in the sixties, stepped towards her.

“Tara, I’m so glad we can finally meet.”

Now go over and check out what the other ladies have done with this.

Bronwyn
Kris

WRITING STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES

Hello and welcome to the randomness that is Wednesday. For my first fabulous trick let me unveil Wednesday Male Hotness

*sigh* The pics always make my day start out brighter. You? Anyway, today we're chatting about our writing strengths and weaknesses. I'll start with my weaknesses since, for me, the downer stuff is so much easier to list. The reason is, I often focus on that stuff first. 

My weaknesses are my procrastination in writing. I'm sure you've noticed since I haven't finished a book in . . . yeah, I'm embarrassed to even mention how long it's been. I put it off and put it off and never get anything done. Next, when I do write I'm never satisfied. I have to keep going back and fixing. I will admit I've gotten better at this since I used to polish and polish . . . a first chapter. Yeah, can't put those on the market. Last, I can't stay focused on one project. I jump from book to book, which is another reason I never finish.

See, easy to do. I whipped those out in less than a minute. 

Okay, now for my strengths. First, I never lack for ideas. Dreams,  songs, a story someone tells me, it doesn't matter. My mind instantly starts spinning a story. I've always done this, which is why my grades were so poor in school. I could sit and daydream an entire class away without hearing a word the teacher said. Second, it doesn't hurt when I put on my editor hat to hack and slash through what I've written. I know that sometimes getting rid and rewriting is the best thing an author can do. I'm not so enamored of my own words that ever one is sacred. *snort* As if. Which leads me to my last strength. I can take criticism. In fact, I like it as long as it's constructive. The only way I'll ever get better is for someone with insight to give me guidance. And, as long as someone can give me a good excuse why something needs to be done, then I'm all on board. Like I said, I'm not so enchanted with my own words that I won't change or delete. Hell the book I'm working on now has taken so long because I've basically rewritten the entire thing. 

So, there you have it. What I consider my writing strengths and weaknesses. Now, run and check out what the other bloggers have to say. And if you want to leave a comment below I read ever single one. See you next week! -- Gwen

Bronwyn
Jessica
Kris
Jessica D

TALES FROM A BOOKSTORE PT. 2

Hey! Okay, so if didn't know I work at a bookstore. Most of the customers are totally awesome. In fact, I have regulars I deal with who are tons of fun. Then again, we get those special snowflakes we have to deal with that try every one's patience. This is one of those stories.

This story is totally true and, unlike the last post, this actually happened to me. Truly.

The phone rings and I give my bookstore phone spiel. A guy on the other end tells me he needs to return a book. That, in and of itself, is no problem, especially if the customer has a receipt and it's inside the return window. Yeah, but this isn't that easy. Remember we're dealing with a "special" snowflake.

The book happens to be for school. In fact, the book is a textbook. Even bigger fact that this guy has already unwrapped the textbook from it's protective shrink wrap. Whoops! 

"I'm so sorry," I say. "Once you take the book out of the wrap it's non-returnable."

"Yeah, but you don't understand," snowflake says. "It's not the right book. Once I got into the class and started working in the book I realized it's not the right one."

Wait! What?? Oh yeah, he'd already highlighted passages in the book . . .with a yellow highlighter. Then he realized it wasn't the right book and he wanted to turn it to us and he wanted a full refund.

"So let me get this straight," I say in the voice I used to use while teaching 5th grade, "you purchased the wrong book, opened it, marked in it and want to return it to us?"

"Right," he says, "it's not the right book and I paid over $200.00 for it. I still have the receipt."

"The receipt isn't the issue. The issue is you took it out of the packaging and wrote in it. That makes the book non-returnable."

"But it's the wrong book," he says, as if I'm the idiot.

"I'm sorry," I say, grabbing for patience. "But, you ordered the book and you wrote in it. We can't take it back."

He huffs out an exasperated breath. "It was over $200.00 and I can't use it. I need to get the money back so I can get the right book."

"I'm sorry," I say, again, "but we can't take the book back."

"Look, let me just talk to a manager. I'm sure once I explain they'll understand."

As if I didn't understand some mysterious something that would make me take this trashed book back. And, because I'm not in charge, I tell him to hold on. I contact the manager on duty and explain what happened. The manager actually hurries across the store so he can look me in the face to find out if I'm joking. Yeah, unfortunately not.

He laughs and takes the phone call and tells the guy on the phone the same exact thing I've been saying. Once he hangs up, he looks at me and we both laugh. Because, really what else can we do. 

So, if you order a book for school, take it out of the protective wrap, and write in it I won't take it back. No matter what. Just letting you know.

See you later! Gwen