About Me

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Jersey Shore, United States
In case any of my friends or family members actually read this Blog, please consider all Names, Characters, Places and Incidents to be the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales are entirely COINCIDENTAL...Muaaah!! Now, really, about me: I bring the crazy wherever I go, so I've been told...I make fun of myself more than anyone else ever could. I hate: the awkward silence in elevators, watches with no numbers, picky eaters, Cancer and legalism. I love: coffee, stalking Hugh Jackman, my Spanx, COMMENTS, sarcasm and writing: Middle Grade, NA, YA Paranormal and Urban Fantasy.

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Wednesday, January 25, 2012

No Excuses

In light of the fact that I'm having heaps of trouble creating an effective query letter, today, I'm going to  focus on some writing exercises. Here's hoping knocking out a few really great writing exercises will help me get my creative mojo going, and allow me to garner some new incite into a very placid, played out query.

Because of my obvious query deficiencies, I've been reading heaps of material on how to write a stand out query.  If  I'm being honest, which I always try to be, I have to admit, what  I've read so far, has  not been very helpful. I hate contradictions and that's all I seem to be taking away from the info I've read!

Maybe it's just me, but I've come to the conclusion that it's all about the agent and what works for them (some explicit no-no's not withstanding). There is no magic query formula for me to follow. Where's Hermione Granger and her wand when you really need her? I wish she could hook a sister up.

Keeping the "Biggest Loser" motto of  NO EXCUSES foremost in mind, I will continue to forge ahead. Despite conflicting advice, having two sick kids at home, and a whole lot of construction work going on around my house, I will whine press on. Wish me luck...

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Madeline Birthday Party

How amazing is this cake!?! Chocolate with chocolate mousse inside, so delicious. My little francophile was thrilled! Bon Anniversaire Francesca xoxo

Saturday, January 14, 2012

In need of a new look.

After seeing my daughter invent a new look for herself, I decided it's time I did too. And it's way, way overdue. I've had long, straight, boring hair for years.This is a recent pic and a good example of how long and boring it is right now:

Make-up, I can put on all day long, it's one of my fav activities. Hair, I expend the least amount of effort possible. And it shows. So, now it's time for a new look. I need something updated, but not too edgy or old lady. Being 40 is kind of hard. I'm not that young, but I'm not ready to collect Social Security yet  either.  Hmmm. Any suggestions?


 Here is what I might consider....maybe these looks are already outdated, or kind of classic? Any suggestions always make me ridiculously happy, and are greatly appreciated!!!  Thanks-

Friday, January 13, 2012

Parisian Cowgirl

I have always encouraged my daughters to pick out their own clothes. I want them to feel out their own sense of style and what works for them. Sometimes, what they pick out is a huge MISS. And it kills me... but I let them go out in the misses. (Unless they are really inappropriate like shorts in the dead of winter, etc.) Bottom  line, I want them to be comfortable with their choices, despite how I feel. So I suck it up and keep my big trap shut. And every so often, I fall in LOVE with what they wear.

This is what my little one (Franchesca a/k/a Frankie) came up with yesterday. She calls her look  "Parisian Cowgirl"  Well, bonjour y'all... This is  a definite HIT for me. I love it! It may just be a passing phase, but I am really truly loving this one.

My little Franchesca, living up to her name, has become quite the Francophile. She is obsessed with France and is trying to learn as much French as she possibly can. She also started to kiss me on both cheeks, "Faire la Bises" style. As if that wasn't enough, then she started a collection of Eiffel Towers, and has placed them all around her bedroom, in a little Parisian shrine. C'est adorable!  Before she'll step one  foot outside the house, she must, must, must, have that little black beret on top of her head!!

What was the first look you remember you positively just had to have?  The first thing I can remember that I just had to have, ( and I totally hate to admit this because it makes me feel really, really old) were.... Madonna's rubber bracelets !!

And you couldn't have just one, no way! You had to wear no less than twenty seven and you had to keep piling them on until you smelled like a Goodyear tire before you had that fad on lock down. Leave me your comments, I'm dying to know what fads made #1 on your list.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Just thought I would post a little update on Kitty...

My little Princess did great. Much better than me. The vet said that you wouldn't even know she had surgery.

Other than the fact she now walks with a swagger to rival  Eastwood's, she went right back to acting like her usual, nutter self.

And even though she absolutely loathes it, it can't be helped. She must wear the collar. Princess Filamena has been campaigning hard to convince me Elizabethan Collars went out of fashion for a reason. Unfortunately, her opinion changes nothing, because she will be, in deed, rocking this look for the next ten days.

God help me, but I think she's even cuter with the stupid collar. 

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Crap. I'm a Crazy Cat Lady

I'm certain tons of people will judge me for this post, but, as usual, I don't really care. I am freaking out because my little kitty, Princess Filamena Joy,  is at the vet, getting spayed, right now.

I know, I know, I shouldn't be freaking out because it's a  routine surgery, and cats get spayed every single day. But not my little kitty, who has come to mean so much to me. She is my constant. I can hardly stand to sit here and feel the sick absence of  the slight weight and warmth of her body, and the sound of her wheezy little purr as she snoozes away, peacefully in my lap.

She always, always, falls asleep on me while I write. That's just how I roll. A cup of coffee to my right, a  cat napping on my lap, and my fingers flying over the keyboard. The absolute quiet of the house is unnerving, and her absence is making me feel all kinds of  sketch.

When the four of us, (myself and my three little girls) dropped Mena off this morning, it was redonculous. We couldn't stop with the kissing, hugging, petting, and making sure she had her fav stuffed animal and her special blankie for comfort. None of us wanted to leave. But I fear I was the worst  offender of  us all.

Again, I know, as the mom, I should be setting a better example, but I failed. I cried. Yep, I cried  first. Then the girls started. I dropped them off at school and can only hope that their minds  are better occupied at present, than mine. Because my thoughts keep going back and obsessing on the cat. Is she going to be ok? Will she be in a lot of pain?  How long will they keep her? When will they call and tell me she's going to be alright?  Enough already. But I can't stop myself from worrying. I tried.

Every single time I have EVER judged anyone, it's  come back to bite me in the ass, HARD. How I jumped so far into "crazy cat lady"  territory, it's frightening. But I'm honest enough to admit, there was a time, when I mocked and laughed at crazy cat ladies for their psychosis. Yeouch. This time, it hurt, really, really, bad, when my booty got bit by the judgement bug.

So here I sit, painfully catless, biting my nails, waiting for some good news.  And out lots of money for purchasing a First Class ticket on the crazy cat lady train.

Monday, January 2, 2012

No Kiss Blog Fest

So, here's my Entry to the Fabulous Frankie Diane Mallis, 3rd Annual No Kiss Blog Fest!! This is a no-kiss scene from one of my own manuscripts. “Breaking Cardinale Rules” Please don't hate too hard. Thanks...

I made Drew take me to the boardwalk. It had been so long since I'd had any fun, and I guessed someone like Drew, had never been there before. And I was right. As we walked along the boards, I made him stop periodically and do all of the worst, most touristy things you could possibly do. 

It was wicked fun, almost like a date. At first he would not relax at all, because of all the people and noise and general commotion. He protested a lot. But I teased him out of his self-imposed up-tightness as much as I possibly could.

I bated him into playing some of the games, knowing how naturally competitive he is. Did it surprise me that he won, every single time? Nope. Ring toss, darts, shot gun (of course) basketball, frog bog, you name it, he won it. After I had about twenty ginormous stuffed animals too many, Drew decided it wouldn't be fair, if he kept playing. I suggested he take the extras and hand them out to all the little kids that walked by, and actually had enough guts to approach him. The vendors were delighted when we walked away.

Boardwalk pizza is insanely good, so I made sure he tried a slice. Of course, I insisted on funnel cakes for desert. He drew the line when I suggested the fun house, mumbling something like, “too many variables” so I didn't push it. But I did torture him, until he agreed to sit in one of those little photo booths and take pictures with me. It's a really small seat, and instead of sitting sideways and all awkward, I just jumped right onto his lap. Taking someone like Drew by surprise, was more fun than any of the rides. He recovered, and then shocked me, when I felt his lips brush by my neck and settle near my ear. He leaned in and whispered, “Thank you.”

My smile in those pictures was so incredibly broad, it made Julia Robert's look small. Drew didn't smile. On film, the innate beauty I can see inside him, kinda got lost in the translation. He wound up looking like he did when anyone else looked at him: absolutely terrifying. Before I could comment, he snatched the pictures from my hand and put them in his wallet. At first, I was kinda taken back, but then I decided that it was all kinds of awesome.

How I convinced him to get on the Ferris Wheel, I'll never know. When it stopped at the top, he looked at me, with those fierce green eyes and that all-encompassing intensity of his. All the noises of the boardwalk faded into silence, the bright lights died away, and I swear his stare laid me so bare, I felt like a ripe banana, he just peeled. The wind picked up and that stinking Ferris Wheel carriage started swaying back and forth, making my stomach feel as uncomfortable as my mind.

Would Drew, try and make a move on me? Would he kiss me? And considering how broken and dead I am inside, would I actually want him to?

He leaned closer, then closer still, until he was just inches from my face. Deep down inside, I felt something ignite. It was a slow burn, just a spark, mind you, but enough for me to know, if I gave place to it, it could quickly turn to flames. I didn't think it was possible for me to feel this, or want to feel this, with anyone, ever again. But there it was, desire. I wanted Drew. I wanted Drew to kiss me and reignite that desire inside me, more than I wanted my next breathe. Unfortunately, this revelation came a little too late. Because it was then I realized, Drew hadn't been leaning in to kiss me, at all. He was only leaning towards me to get a closer look at something down below us, on the boardwalk. What an idiot I am.

“What is it Drew?”

“On your left, below. Man in the brown leather jacket?”
“Um, yeah.”

“Subcompact Glock 27, right breast pocket. It's a common off-duty cop weapon, but I'll keep an eye on him, all the same.”

That's what I get for thinking GI Drew was about to kiss me, or relax, even for a second. It was pretty much at that point, I longed for nothing more than a ride to take my idiotic ass, home.