A-fictionally-yours

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Observations

Maria sat in the booth of the hotel’s lounge, nursing her drink and checking her phone for email every few seconds.  She was on another business trip, sitting in another hotel bar, and drinking yet another watered-down gin and tonic.  This was her life, five days a week on the road.  She’d been locked in the same routine for ten years now, never really having an incentive to change.

Most of the time, Maria barely noticed other patrons from the bars, but tonight was different.  The whole room seemed to take on a new life when a certain woman walked in.  Maria noticed her immediately.  She wore a dark blue business suit, tight skirt, and four-inch black pumps. Her flaming red hair was done-up in a French-twist. Wisps of hair had escaped and were hanging seductively over her face.  She was stunning and Maria felt things stir inside of her that had been dead a very long time.

The redhead walked with self-confidence and attitude, seeming to know that she would catch everyone’s eye wherever she went.  She certainly had caught Maria’s undivided attention.  “She could make my night so much more interesting,” thought Maria.  Smiling to spite herself, Maria gulped her drink, and immediately got up and walked over to the bar to order another.  The woman was seated at the bar, her long legs crossed in such a fashion that couldn’t help but draw an appreciative eye. 

“Another gin and tonic, please,” said Maria.  She unobtrusively looked over at the woman and nodded hello.

The woman smiled and said, “Hello.  You probably should order a double.  They water the drinks down here.”  The woman smiled and shifted her position to indicate she would welcome conversation.

Maria sat down on the stool beside her and said, “Thanks. I’ll do that. I need the buzz. Been a long week.  Are you here on business?”

The woman said, “No I’m meeting my husband.  Or rather my ex-husband as of today.  We’re going to celebrate our divorce.  Is that weird?”  The woman laughed, and Maria was fixated on her full lips and bright teeth. Then she extended her perfectly manicured hand to Maria and said “My name is Susan, by the way.  Nice to meet you.”

So Susan was freshly divorced and probably not looking for new adventures at this juncture in her life.  Too bad.  Maria would just have to enjoy this woman’s charming company for a little while and then go back to her gin and tonic, and her email.  

“I’m Maria,” she offered, and took Susan’s hand gently, probably holding on a little too long.  However, Susan didn’t pull her hand away, but rather smiled and looked at Maria with unmistaken curiosity.

“Hi Maria.  Are you married?”

“No.  I think I may be allergic to marriage.  Besides that, I’m gay and it’s not legal, so that gives me an out,” said Maria.  She let out a nervous laugh and thought it really didn’t sound like her at all.  Why was she trying so hard to impress this woman?  Was she a glutton for punishment? 

Susan’s right eyebrow rose in the most alluring manner as Maria's infatuation increased.  She really was breathtaking.  How could her husband ever have consented to divorce?

Susan didn’t skip a beat. “Well you’re not as safe as you may think. Gay marriage is right around the corner, you know.  And as gorgeous as you are, women will be lining up!”  Having delivered the compliment, Susan reached over and put a hand on Maria’s shoulder.

Tiny bursts of pleasure rocked through Maria’s body, even though the show of affection was obviously only a token offering of friendship.  Whatever it was, Maria felt it and wanted more.

Maria smiled at Susan. “Thanks.  I hope I live long enough to see such a day!  But in the meantime, I’m not looking.  Too much baggage and pain.  Being in love takes a lot out of me.”

“I hear ya!” said Susan, and then she downed her drink. Her phone chirped and she picked it up to check a new text message. 

“Well it looks like my brand new ex is not gonna show tonight.  He obviously can’t wait to start his new life."  This didn't seem to bother her that much as she looked over at Maria.  "Can I buy you another drink?”  She waved the bartender over.

“I’d like that,” said Maria. She said a silent thank you to Susan's ex.

“And let’s get a booth.  What the hell.  I’m ready to start my new life too!” exclaimed Susan.

Maria smiled as she followed her voluptuous new friend over to the booth in the corner.  The night was still young and she had a new spark of energy.  

Susan looked up at her and suggested, “Scoot in over here by me. No need to sit way over there.”

Maria sat down next to Susan.  She put her phone in her purse and took a drink.  Emails could wait.

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Grand Social - Memorial Day

Today I’m linking up with the lovely Lisa from Grandmas Briefs, for a Memorial Day tribute.  I’m actually linking an old post from last year, one describing a bit of my Air Force Basic Training experience.  Although things have changed a lot, Basic Training is still Basic Training, and every single Airman, Marine, Soldier and Sailor has to go through it.   So come along with me as I describe how clueless and wet-behind-the-ears I was at eighteen, but how proud I was to serve my country. 

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They used to call me Airman

And sometimes Gomer

I was looking at old pictures, which is not something I do often. But when I do, it always turns into a sappy blog post.   So get ready, because here we go again.   Did you ever wonder why there’s such a strict age limit on entering the military?    No, it’s not because old folks can’t do combat!  That’s just silly.   Obviously, you haven’t seen Grandpa chasing rabbits with old Duke and his sawed-off  shot-gun.  And, obviously, you haven’t seen Grandma jet-setting all over Europe with her old sorority sisters in their big Red Hats.   Seventy is the new forty, you know!   Or so I’ve been told.   I’m not seventy, quite yet.

So back to my old pictures.

I found one of me in my uniform and sat there admiring my legs.  Gosh I had nice legs.  They’re all lumpy and stubby now.  And my boobs?  They were amazing.  Now?   Lumpy and stubby, and annoying.   Seriously….I hate the extra time it takes to corral them into my bra and make sure they’re both pointing front and center.  It’s not easy.  I get one positioned just right and the other disappears somewhere under my arm pit.  It’s enough to wear me out, and usually does.   I really think we should start out life as an old woman or man, and get younger.  I would appreciate my youth a lot more now than I ever did when I actually had it.

Oh yea, the pictures. 

So I was looking through the pictures and thought it might be fun to share with you what Basic Training in the Air Force at Lackland AFB, Texas was like way back in 1971.   And I will warn you, it is exhausting, so you might want to sit down…..and have a drink.  Stay hydrated.  It’s good for you.

Just another perk of reading my blog…..the healthy advice you get!

On October 22, 1971, I entered the Air Force, was sent to Lackland AFB, Texas, and was the youngest woman in my flight.  I was also the fastest runner in my flight, which really proved nothing because there were no races.  It was all about the marching.   I was also the only Southerner in my flight.  Everyone else was from New York City.  True Story.  My fellow Airmen (yes we were called Airmen) called me “Gomer”.  (Gomer Pyle, get it?  Southern accent?  Gomer had one. God I’m old).

For those of you non-Air Force types who are wondering what a flight is….it is like a platoon.  And for you non-Army types who don’t know what a platoon is…it’s like a group of 70 or so people, in this case all women, all marching together, showering together, exercising together, eating together, cleaning together, sleeping together (and not in a fun way) for 6 weeks of Basic Training hell.

We got up at 5 am, learned how to get showered and dressed in 20 minutes and in-formation outside by 5:30 am.    Then we’d march to the chow hall for breakfast.   Then we’d march back to the barracks and change into our PT clothes and get back into formation.  Then we would march to the workout field where we would do lots of working out, followed by lots of running laps.  After that…..you guessed it….we’d get back in formation and march somewhere else.  Usually it would be to the academic building for military studies classes, but sometimes we’d have to march to the clinic for shots.   And then there were the times we would march just to practice marching.

Lunch time came, and of course, we marched back to the chow hall for lunch.   After lunch, we might have training or cleaning detail back at the barracks.  And how’d we get there?  Anyone?  Anyone?    Yes We Marched!   In the course of six weeks, I managed to wear out my tennis shoes and a hole in the side of my low-quarters leather (frumpy black clodhopper) shoes.   I marched my butt off.  We even had to march to church on Sunday.  First of all, I didn’t want to go to church on Sunday because I wanted to sleep in.  My cranky old Sergeant would have none of that, though.  We marched our butts to church.

We did manage to turn it into a “flirting” opportunity, however, as the men also had to march to church.  So we primped extra nicely before leaving the barracks.  There was some mega bra-stuffing and skirt-hiking, as I recall, but the Sergeant was one step ahead of us and confiscated all contraband prior to entering the Lord’s house.  We were a bunch of heathens for sure.   Well, they were.  I already had big boobs and really couldn’t leave them behind.

And so life went on at Basic Training for six long weeks.  Upon graduation day, we had to march (of course!)  in a big parade and salute the General.   The only difference was we had our Dress Blues uniforms on and we were strutting our stuff.   It was a proud day.  I don’t think anyone who has ever been through Basic Training would disagree that the last day was filled with Pride.

In a small way, this was my little tribute to our men and women serving their country and keeping us safe.     Keep these people in your thoughts and prayers, along with all of our fallen service men and women. 

Monday Listicles - Ten things that describe my Home

Happy Monday!  I’m linking up with the lovely Stasha over at The Good Life for Monday Listicles.  This week’s list is Ten things that describe my Home.  I had no trouble with this list at all.  I love my home and enjoy hanging out there.  So here's why:

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 Home

Where I find Respite. Sanctuary.

Where living is Easy does it.  No stress. No pressure

Where I can be Lazy if I want to. 

Where Anything goes.  Burps, farts, lousy singing, ugly bathrobes.

Where I find my Xanadu.   My happy place.

Where I can be Alone and find the quiet.  Sanity.

Where I take Time to refresh and renew.

Where I can dance like nobody’s watching. At least I hope they aren’t.

Where Ordinary is OK.  I can be me with no excuses or apologies.

Where I can be Naked, Naughty, Nice or Nerdy anytime I want.  Nobody’s business but mine.

I don't even know what I don't know

This week I reached another one of my “come to Jesus” or “shut up and suck it up” moments.  It was a moment of discovery and a lesson in humility.  It was hard to swallow, a gag-reflex, if you will.  Not to be confused with the standard lesbian affliction.  But that’s another subject. 

Today I speak to “an author’s first edit”.  Yes, that sobering moment when the editor of your very first soon-to-be-published work tells you that you actually made some grammatical and punctuation errors.

What the Fuck?

You mean I’m not perfect?  Oh my gosh, was I ever embarrassed.  I had heard of this first, most clarifying and peel back my skin and suck out my heart revealing moment, but hadn’t realized the impact it would have on the pristine image I held of myself. 

I was taken aback.

I was jolted into reality.

Had stupidity always been my middle name or had I only recently acquired this distinction when I decided to be a serious writer?

All those thoughts of self-doubt and fantasies of fingers around editor’s throat  realization that I wasn’t being  “all that” after all….well they flooded my brain and what was left of the few brain cells I possessed just disintegrated into a virtual Grammar 101 abyss. 

Whew.  It just about did me in.

But here’s the thing.

Once the waters parted, and the dark clouds circling my head dissipated, I actually heard my editor.  I didn’t just listen.  I heard what she was saying.

Even a gifted golden goddess of gab, goofiness and the written word, such as myself, needs a little direction now and then.  Being the stubborn, control freak that I am, this was a real breakthrough for me. 

And my editor’s still alive.   That’s a plus.

So bring it, Karla.  Give it to me straight (another really tough direction for me).  Let me have it. 

Because I know you love me and you want my Stuff to Shine.

Now I’m going to do some research on “modifiers”.  Apparently I mixed some up or misplaced some or some kinda shit.  I have forgotten way more than I remember about grammar.  Thank gosh for my editor! 

My advice?  And you know you want some, don’t you?   My advice is to listen to your editor.  She’s got skills, people, and you can reap the benefits of her knowledge.  So shut up and take it like a woman.

Now go out there and have yourself a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend! 

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And while you’re at it, take a minute to remember and reflect on those Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Sailors who have served and are still serving you and our great country.  And if you are or have been one of those military personnel?  Thank you for your Service!

Image from Google Images

WTFriday? Hot and Bothered

May in Las Vegas is supposed to bring forth gloriously warm weather with light breezes that tickle one’s fancy and leave one with dreams of tropical getaways.   Not May of 2012.  This month has brought record high temps and an unwelcomed preview of the months to come. 

Anyone have some cheese because I feel a whine coming on?  Stay if you are suited-up with armor for such rants; else you might want to make your exit quickly.  And quietly please. We don’t want to disturb the others’ power naps.  

LIL Sis, is that you snoring?  WAKE UP.  I can’t do this alone.  I’m weak from the heat and tired from the fucking 30 and 40 mph wind gusts. Ever try walking against those types of gusts?  And I’m not exactly built to foster wind-worthy dynamics.  Imagine if you will, an elephant trying to pee in a thimble. 

Yea it’s like that.  Only without the pee.

I forget where I was going with that analogy.  So sue me.

WTFriday?  It’s the heat, I tell ya.

I don’t even want to think about the next power bill.  I may have to sell my body once again. 

Bwwwahhhhh.  What? 

It could happen.

Somebody out there lusts for will settle for my tired broke ass sexy senior stuff.  Don’t knock me until you’ve tried me. 

But I digress.   I felt like it was about time to interject that old reliable phrase.  It’s a lot like me, overused and under-appreciated.

If you’re feeling nauseous, just tilt your head back, apply a cool wash cloth, and think about cute little teddy bears or mountains of chocolate.  That doesn’t do it for me but I’m stretching to be nice here.

It’s the heat, I tell you.

It makes me think bad things.  Naughty things.  Unthinkable things.  Like vagina.  And Jennifer Lopez.  Notice I didn’t really put those two in the same sentence…vagina and JLo?  I thought that might be inappropriate.  Just because I may have been thinking about the two together.  Still, I’m nothing if not cognizant of my reading audience.  And fair.

So George Clooney.  And penis.  How’s that?  Again being respectful enough to separate the two by a period.

You see?  I told you I was fair.  Now everyone’s happy and I can go on with my fucking heat stroke.

The previous few paragraphs have absolutely no redeeming value, and yet I still have a reason to post. 

Why?

Because I’m in hell and I need the company. 

Thanks for taking this journey with me.  If you should desire to have further proof of my Hell, then turn on your oven, and stick your head in for a few seconds, until you build up a good sweat.  Then turn your blow dryer on high and point directly into your face for another few seconds.  After that, relax and enjoy those hallucinations.  If they don’t come right away, repeat the above process.  Have patience.  You will soon imagine freaky and wondrous things.

It was good for me.  Was it good for you?

Images from Google Images

One for the Books

Sometimes I get all excited.  But then sometimes I get downright giddy.  Today, I’m excited and giddy all at the same time.  And why?  Because one of my favorite people is “in the house”.  Karla Telega, my bloggy buddy for almost two years now, is a woman of many talents:  blogger, author, humorist, CFO of her own company, and all-around nice person.  And you know what else?  She’s here to make an announcement!  And it involves yours truly, so listen up people. This is going to be good! 

 And now, please join me in welcoming the lovely Karla..

 One for the Books

My thanks to Terri for inviting me to introduce a relative newcomer on the Indie/Small Press Publishing scene. I’m co-founder and part owner of Escrit Lit, LLC, and its premier imprint, Adoro Books.

Let me share a few realities about publishing. Seventeen new books are published each hour in the U.S. alone. That’s 408 books per day. If you’re thinking about an indie/small press publisher to give you that extra push to get your book noticed, you should know that most new indie publishers close their doors within six months of incorporation.

I know of a small press that was recently caught stealing art from the web to use on its cover designs. The company had been pumping out books by the dozens for unsuspecting authors. Can you imagine the legal nightmare?!

Indie publishing has very little regulation, and business models are as innovative and varied as you can imagine. If you strip away all the window-dressing, the question is still, “Where is the money?” Is the publisher asking you, the author for money, or is he paying you? You know that a publisher who is paying the author has a vested interest in the success of the book. He doesn’t get paid till the author gets paid.

So far, in our first year Adoro has only published seven new titles. That might seem rather uninspiring, but it’s all part of the company’s business plan. Unlike book mills, that crank out more books than they could possibly ever market, Adoro is committed to turning out a quality product and getting it into the readers’ hands. We’re excited to announce that our current project is Terri’s own novella, Sara’s Sleep.

Those of you who have been following Terri’s blog know what an outstanding storyteller she is. We’d like to invite you to an online launch party for Sara’s Sleep on July 1. Watch for details here, or you can go to Terri’s author page on Facebook http://www.facebook.com/TerriSonoda and show her some “like” love over there. I’m personally thrilled that Terri has put her faith in Adoro Books to help others discover her amazing writing.

You can learn more about Adoro Books at our website    http://adorobooks.com/

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Karla, thank you for gracing my place with your guest posting, for considering my work publish-worthy, and for being my friend.  

Please visit Karla over at her blog titled “Telega Tales and Tart Cookies” and check out her awesome and hilarious book, Box of Rocks.

Images courtesy of Karla Telega

Monday Listicles - Ten things a husband should do

Buuwwaaahhhh! 

Oh hello.  Don’t mind me.  I’m still freaking out over this week’s Monday Listicles subject. Thanks a lot, Stasha’s husband.  You succeeded in scrambling my brains.  What's left of them.

Uh, I don’t have a husband.  Uh, I have a wife.  Uh, does that make me the husband?  Uh, no.

So.

Questions. Hair-pulling.  Where’s my happy pills?   I.Am.Stressed.

But.

I am always up for a challenge!

So.

I’m listing.  That’s right.  Right along with you ladies who have husbands and actually know what you’re talking about.  And how am I going to approach this monumental writerly task? 

I’ll just make shit up.

So here goes…

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Ten Things MY Husband would do, IF I had a Husband...

(Title slightly altered to fit my particular situation. Or lack thereof)

• If I had a husband, he would Cook.

• If I had a husband, he would Clean.  The toilets. The windows. The baseboards. The floors. My car.

• If I had a husband, he would go to work and make enough money so I could stop looking for a freaking job.

• If I had a husband, he would rub my feet.  My wife will not do this.  I'm suffering.
  

• If I had a husband, he would wash his own damned stinky socks and underwear.  Yes, I was married to a man a hundred years ago, and can still smell the afterglow.

• If I had a husband, he would understand my need to eat chocolate and drink merlot while crying over the Grey’s Anatomy’s season finale.  In fact, he couldn’t have any of my chocolate, but I would share my wine and drippy tissues with him.  Yea, I have a big heart like that.

• If I had a husband, he would go kick some ass in whichever direction I pointed.  Cause he loves me.  And he’s all butch like that.  Come to think of it, my wife already does that.  Never mind.

• If I had a husband, he would sleep on the couch because I cannot stand the snores and the farts.  Seriously, mine are bad enough without adding testosteronic mutations (is that a thing?).

• If I had a husband, he would be kind, sharing, gentle and loving like my Dad.  Only not just like my Dad because that would be creepy.  But you get what I’m saying.  He would be a real gentleman. 

And finally…..

• If I had a husband, he would gladly consent to a sex-change operation.  Because I'm sure as hell not jumping the penis fence.
  

Oh.My.Goshness Batman!  This old broad is outta control!

Don’t blame me. 

Blame Stasha’s husband for coming up with the subject. 

Now go out there and have a super Monday.

I’m heading back to my corner, to lie in wait for next week’s Monday Listicles subject.   Go ahead.  Bring it!

 

Images from Google Images

Eva's Got a New Book!

Many of you may know of the very entertaining blogger Eva Gallant from Wrestling With Retirement.  But?   How many of you know that she has published several eBooks?   Well she has and I’m dedicating this blog post to singing her praises.

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Eva’s newest book, Welcome to Singles’ Night, is her best yet, in my humble opinion.  This book is a helluva romp that takes the reader through fun, romance, excitement and yes, even one-niters. It left me with a feeling that I was part of it all and also triggered some fond memories of my long ago party life. Young adults to old whippersnappers will enjoy this read.

The action takes place in a bottle club called ‘Country Connections’ where anything can happen on Singles Night and usually does.  The singles frequent the establishment for various reasons from seeking a life partner to just finding a one-night stand.  Sandy, Liz and Ginger become regulars looking for fun and sometimes flirting with danger.  They meet and interact with a variety of men from different backgrounds and with different intentions, and not all honorable.   This book is a fun and exciting romp from beginning to end.

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Eva Gallant’s Biography: Eva Gallant is a Maine native, a retiree, a wife, a mother, and a grandmother. She was a teacher in public schools for 17 years, and spent most of the rest of her career in banking and finance.

Writing has always been a part of her life, whether freelancing for small town newspapers, or writing for her personal enjoyment. The latter led her to blogging. She started her blog Wrestling With Retirement in 2009 and has posted nearly every day since the first post.

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Eva has five books published on Kindle: The Blogger's Fictionary, Hospitalized and Heartstruck, Assorted Verse and Worse, Welcome to Singles' Night,  and The Best of Wrestling With Retirement. She is working on more books, hoping to add to her book shelf selection. Some of her writing is in the humorous vein, although she also enjoys writing fiction.

Click here to view more information about Eva Gallant’s books and purchase copies on Amazon.

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Thank you, Eva, for providing daily entertaining reading over at Wrestling With Retirement and for sharing your humor and fiction for us to enjoy!  

Everyone hurry on over to visit Eva at her place and also grab your copy of her latest book, Welcome to Singles’ Night.   You can thank me later.  Or now.   I’m flexible that way.