Pretty In Pink... Perfect In Paisley!

 It has been a rough couple of weeks.. actually Months. I have become this version of myself that I never thought I had in me. It is completely out of character for me to disrupt anyone's life, business, or personal life, or the way they move about in their daily existence. Standing on principle and sticking up for what I know to be correct is exhausting. The panic attacks were intense, and my deep love for research and law saw a conclusion, and situations have been resolved. It did not come without despair and frustration. I do not ever want to deal with those situations again, and the trauma associated with the experience has been a lot to bare. I question everything, and I observe calculations of the sort and diligently process them accordingly. Again, I don't know who I have become, but bet your bottom dollar it will be me you want in your corner when the fight is on! Freedom of speech and the way any situation affects you personally, you have the right to expression. T...

 Well, I almost have a system set up in my house that offers a bit less mental clutter. I had the kid, he-ho the love seat to the curb for Monday morning pick-up! I wasn't quite as attached to it as I was at one time to my blue wingback recliner. (It was Bruce's chair.) Parting with that thing, the chair that is, was hard. I go through furniture as much as I have gone through wheels/tires on my car. As I have mentioned a time or 100, this house is small, there is not much room to maneuver and live functionally. It messes with my brain, and my perpetual need to clean it often times becomes obsessive. Nonetheless, there is less clutter in the living room. Currently, I am searching for a pair of pink tufted wingbacks, or I will settle happily on one oversized chair. {2 temporary chairs have been scavenged from the house to fill an empty wall that also has an incorrect-size painting on it to fill space.} I spent yesterday at the thrift store scoring a few sets of sheets. One will b...

 It has been 2 days of hiding inside and dealing with the extreme heat. The sleepless nights of this damn window unit that keeps freezing up, and restless dogs that can not get comfortable. I am shifting from one side of the couch to the other because, regardless of the air, the living room is the most tolerable.  I craved a pizza last night, while I was formulating plots for my next book, SEASIDE SHORE, and I made the painstaking mistake of turning the oven on to cook it. The perk in that deal was running to the grocery store with the car AC on high and meandering around a frigid store for a good 30 minutes. I loligagged... A mason jar full of ice with Pinot Grigio and a deluxe pizza topped with blue cheese crumbles hit the spot as I sat here and typed away my outline for these two characters, Jess and Jake. Although this book is layered in a multi-twist storyline, these 2 are the main focus. It is imperative to psychologically get the patterns down right so readers can ident...

 It's Monday, and it's raining. The house AC is once again on the fritz, and I am over it. It's hot! The car will be taken back to the shop for the sixth time (once I arrange for it to be towed), and I am considering filing yet another complaint with the Attorney General. While driving over the weekend, a loud pop, snap, and thud is coming from the rear wheels, or, my guess, the suspension is shot. I am pissed beyond anything in my control. I want resolve and I want it now! My patience has run thin, and holding my composure may get ugly. I have been on a staycation since Thurs and I return to the gig tomorrow. I laugh with heartfelt sincerity. There was a glitch in the scheduling. A system fail. My request was approved weeks ago, but somehow my name was put in last night's roster. Simultaneously, my GM, Assistant Manager, and my co-worker texted, WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU OK? WHY AREN'T YOU HERE? They all had me worried... I texted back each with the same reply: I am o...

  Image, Illness and The Psychology of Self-Respect I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially after seeing a post that stirred a firestorm. Someone simply asked, “ When did it become acceptable to leave the house looking like we’ve given up? ” And instantly, people pounced. Accusations flew. The comment was called shallow, outdated, even cruel. But here’s the truth. That question didn’t insult people. It triggered them. Because, deep down, many women no longer recognize themselves. They don’t know how to come back to the version of themselves who once cared about how they walked through the world. I know that woman. I was her. There was a time in my life when I was unraveling. My relationship, eight years of loyalty and faulted love, collapsed in betrayal. ( Let me mention that talking about a process that you went through is true healing. If it triggers someone else, that is their reflection of a lack of empathy and has nothing to do with you or dismisses what y...

 My birthday came and went quietly. No grand gestures. No unexpected magic. Just the simplicity of yard work, the soft joy of planting flowers, and the peaceful solitude of floating in the pool while the sun cast shadows across my shoulders, waiting for that storm to blow through. My youngest surprised me with two coffee drinks. My counter part who I share my position with brought me decadent cupcakes and a card that resembled my princess pony. A card was left for me at work by the monthly regular table of twenty. One of the younger girls texted me a sweet birthday wish. And that was merely enough because I no longer expect anyone to bring me what I now know how to give myself. (I'll see the other kids and grandkids tonight) But still... I felt it. That ache. That whisper of longing. Not for material gifts or surprises but for the unexpected osmosis of connection . The kind that can’t be planned or scheduled. The kind that happens when two people really see each other in the ...