NEW RELEASES
We should have just eaten the barbeque
First let me preface this post by saying that he’s fine – very sore, but ultimately fine.
When I got home form work yesterday, My Honey and I were both too tired to make anything for dinner. We stood together staring into the open refrigerator and decided to get take out. I waited at home and helpfully dozed on the couch until my phone rang.
“Hey,” he said. “Some chick just t-boned my truck.”
That woke me up. “Are you OK?” I jumped up from the couch and slipped my feet in my shoes.
“Yeah, but the truck’s munched.”
I herded the kids in the car and we went to the accident site which was literally two blocks from our house. It was also conveniently located a block and a half from the local fire station. The firemen said they heard the crunch of the accident from their station house and started getting their gear on, knowing they were going to get the call any minute. I arrived on the scene just after they did. They were all wandering around with these giant flashlight- hats on.
“Hey, are you guys going to be doing any mining later?” I asked. “Maybe panning for gold in the wash between calls?”
They had the good grace to laugh because I’m funny.
My Honey refused ambulance service to the hospital, but I took him later. We were in and out of the ER in an hour and a half which I think is pretty damn good. We touched nothing while we were there because Ava and I are still in our flu shot war and I’m not getting sick at the damn hospital when all we went there for are x-rays. They had us answer a survey at the end of our visit. They asked us what they could do better and the only suggestion I had was to stop letting all those sick people in the building.
There is something funny about this whole accident episode. I know that’s hard to believe since we’re never going to get enough money from the insurance company and we have to buy a new car and we really don’t want a car payment and My Honey is awfully sore. One of my super powers is that I can find something funny in everything. It’s all in the spin you give it.
Back in December My Honey asked me where the new tags were for my car. I shrugged. I had no idea. He informed me they were up in August. Oooops. We had to get through Christmas and then you know stuff happened, but I was really planning to get them done when I get paid on February 1st. I arrived at the accident site before the policeman so when the officer arrived he parked right behind my car. I cringed and tossed My Honey a sheepish look. Fortunately, Officer Handcuffs was too busy with the accident to notice my woefully late registration. Later, when I came back to the accident after fetching the dinner from the crunched truck and taking the kids home where their grandmother was going to watch them for us while I took My Honey to the hospital, I strategically parked BEHIND the officer. Smart, eh?
Finally the cop approached us to give us his report and return our insurance cards and stuff . “I’m sorry sir, but I also had to cite you.”
My husband blinked at the man in wonder. What the hell could he possibly be cited for? The other driver had run a stop sign and plowed into his huge Dodge Ram 2500 KingCab truck hard enough to rock it on it’s wheels and cave in the passenger side. In a residential zone.
The cop actually looked apologetic. “Your car registration expired 8 days ago.”
I damn near exploded in laughter. Holy cow – mine is seven MONTHS passed due and he gets a ticket for 8 days.
My Honey did not think it was at all amusing. “If you don’t stop laughing I’m going to kill you right in front of this cop.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. I still haven’t stopped laughing. Just so you know, I did get the car registered today because he paid for it. He was certain, with his luck as of late, he’d drive my car around town and get pulled over.
Apparently he doesn’t want to play registration roulette with me.
Today is National Pie Day
Narcolepsy: A sleep disorder that causes excessive sleepiness and frequent daytime sleep attacks
I read today that there are several mammals that can have narcolepsy such as dogs, cats, sheep and goats. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that cats can be
OMG! He moved into the sun! Well at least he moved.
narcoleptic.
I’ve owned lots of cats in my time but I’ve never spent so much concentrated time with one. Since I spend every single weekday with him at work I know exactly what he’s up to. He’s up to nothing. Absolutely nothing. There are moments – bright, shining moments – such as the time a couple of weeks ago when he desiccated the office tree, but those times are few and far between.
94 percent of the time he’s asleep on his pillow on my desk. If he’s not there it’s possible he’s asleep on his spare pillow on the guest chair in my office. Or he’s eating so he doesn’t have to nap while hungry. Or he’s wandering around the office nagging me to hurry up and go back to my desk so he can take his nap. Some days he doesn’t want to sleep alone. I’m sure you understand.
Me and his Aunties pester him all day long. I’ve been known to roll him over in his sleep and
nuzzle his belly and even then he won’t open an eye. It becomes a challenge to perturb the cat. He’s such a good sleeper that sometime I worry he’s in a coma. Or dead.
They say cats are supposed to sleep anywhere from fifteen to twenty hours a day. Apparently, Jojo Kitty takes his responsibilities very seriously.
Everyone should have a dream…
Click on the picture to go to the text of his speech.
Maybe I need some perspective
The free day on our diet falls on Saturday. On Friday, Ava and I sent to our favorite bakery/deli to get the best white cake with white frosting in the entire world. We’d been thinking about it all day. That’s a lie. We’d been thinking about it for most of the week. Last week it was eclairs from our favorite Jewish bakery.
You know, now that I think about it, we have a favorite bakery for every ethnicity or specialty. I guess that explains why we need a diet. **eye roll**
We wanted to make sure we had our favorite cake for our free day so we went at lunch to procure it.
As we walked up to the automated double doors, Ava said, “What if they don’t have any white cake squares?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told her. “My stomach is already upset just from worrying.” We walked around the corner and our eyes scanned the bakery counter only to realize, NOOOOOOOOOOO – there was only one piece of the best cake in the known universe. I clutched at my stomach.
Ava put her hand on my arm. I think she meant it to calm me, but it didn’t work. “Excuse me,” she asked the young lady behind the counter. “Do you have anymore white cake in the back?”
“No, I’m sorry,” the girl said.
“SON of a BITCH.” I blurted the words before I even realized they were coming out.
The poor girl flinched. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s our favorite cake,” Ava explained.
The girl nodded. “It’s definitely a favorite. Another lady just bought the other piece.”
I whipped around to see the other people eating in the dining area. “Who was it? Is she still here? I’ll pay her five hundred dollars for that cake.”
Now the girl behind the counter was staring at me, mouth agape.
“We’re on a diet,” Ava told her trying to make her understand my over the top reaction.
“Uh huh.” The girl was still eyeing me. In hindsight, I understand her concern. I’m certain I looked like one of those people who goes completely nuts for no damn reason.
“It’s alright.” Ava was talking to me very slowly, the way you talk a person off a ledge. “We’ll share it and get something extra.”
I got my half a piece of white cake, a small canolli, and a slice of red velvet cake. Ava got her half piece of white cake, a canolli, and an eclair.
“Here you go.” The girl handed over our bags. “Enjoy your diet.” She didn’t believe us for a minute, but I’m sure they taught her in orientation not to argue with the crazies.
January 18
Whooo-ee. We’re seriously hoping that horrific cold snap was the end of winter. It’s supposed to be 75 degrees this whole weekend which is a far sight better than the freezing 35 degrees we had the earlier part of this week. You really don’t want to hang around with us when we’re both cold and hungry. Trust us, nothing good can come 
from that. People have been known to get hurt – at least their feelings. We still managed to chuckle over these things.
1. 2014 Corvette. The new Stingray is here and it’s gorgeous and sexy and bound to get at least one of us into trouble. Ava wants to buy one but Amylynn won’t let her have it unless she gets a standard transmission. It should be illegal to get a sports car in an automatic. That’s just wrong. The rub is that Ava can’t drive a stick shift. Conveniently, Amylynn can and quite well she’ll tell you. Once again, we’re going to ask you to send us each a 
dollar so we can order one. It’s for all of us to share. Think of the delightfully silly blogs that will come out of the two of us racing around in a Corvette. It’s a win for everyone.
2. Grampa Charlie. Charlie Sheen is going to be a grandfather. No that’s not a joke although it’s probably a better predictor of the end of the world than those Mayans were. A grandfather. He acts like such a child himself that it’s hard to imagine him with progeny old enough to have children. But then, think of the wacky stories he’ll have to tell this enraptured child when they sit
upon his knee. Remember this is the guy who said, “I wish him nothing but pain in his silly travels especially if they wind up in my octagon. Clearly I have defeated this earthworm with my words — imagine what I would have done with my fire breathing fists.” Mind boggling.
3. Kate’s baby. The lovely Duchess of Cambridge is due to deliver the future prince or princess sometime in July. Ava and I will start checking our mailboxes for our invitations to the royal shower. We thought we’d get something nice from Tiffany – a sterling silver rattle maybe or a little silver box to keep baby teeth safe. We’ll tell you one thing for sure, we’re 
eating the royal baby shower cake. Diet schmiet. If there’s one thing we’ve learned from reading all those Regency romances, you don’t decline the cake of a duchess. It’s simply not done.
4. Woman in the wall. Did you guys hear about this story? There was a woman in Oregon who fell two stories between two buildings and was wedged between the walls until firefighters got her out. Apparently she was walking on the roofs and fell into the space. There has been no explanation as to what the hell she was doing up there in the first place. The space was only 8-10 inches wide. Go right now and get a ruler and see exactly how skinny 8-10 inches is. We can promise that you don’t have to worry about that happening to the Quill Sisters. We’re not 100% sure our heads would even fit in an 8 inch gap. There is no way our boobs are fitting. We’re not bragging about it. On the contrary, it’s a sad, sad commentary. Here’s the best part. The firemen had to cover her with water and soap in order to get her out. If it’d been us,
we’d have begged for butter.
5. CARB NIGHT. The diet we’re on is The Carb Nite Solution. It’s totally working so far. The author is a scientist not a doctor, and he’s read all the studies for us and explains the science of dieting. It’s empowering. Just about everyone has done a no carb diet at some point, but this one has one extra winning aspect. Carb night. Every seventh day you’re allowed, nay commanded, to eat a carb overload. Last week on carb night one of us ate popcorn, a loaf of rosemary bread (yes a loaf), pasta with meat sauce, a chocolate eclair, and a bowl of ice cream. Then she lost four pounds over the next two days. Seriously. By day five – two days away from Carb Night – you’re so desperate for a treat you almost can’t stand it. We have a long list of food for Saturday including pizza, white cake, a pretzel, chocolate chip cookies, and donuts. In fact, we’re thinking of taking a blanket to the Dunkin Donut/Baskin Robbins combination store down the street and just having a picnic in the lobby.
Woe and misery and chocolate sprinkles
There is very little that Ava and I can think of besides food at this point. The diet is working, so we carry on. Still, we have very elaborate fantasies about
I might sell a kid for a stack of blueberry pancakes
churros, cake, sandwiches, baked potatoes – you name it. That leads me to this question.
Crap. Now I’m starving again. I should just go to bed.
Don’t forget MLK’s birthday 1/15, I didn’t
The Bank of No Forks frequently makes me attend charity events and other assorted boring nonsense that involve chicken for lunch. This week the event was handled by our local Chamber of Commerce and included a “State of the State” keynote speech by our illustrious governor.
Upon arriving at the hotel, I was promptly frisked and made to profess my undying love for her. I did, but only because I was afraid to not attend because we get into trouble for that. If you say you’re going – by God – you go.
Luckily, I’m of the same party as the governor, even though I didn’t vote for her. I have my reasons and they’re good ones. Shhhhhh, don’t tell her
Secret Service.
All of the people from the opposing party were made to stand outside in the bitter 28 degree cold and eat blue-raspberry Popsicle I swear. Good thing I’m not one of them because my new diet doesn’t allow carbs.
Upon arriving at my assigned table, the first thing I noticed was DESSERT. You know how they will put the dessert on the table before anyone arrives so they don’t have to serve it later. Normally, I really appreciate this. I’m an early person and will eat everyone else’s dessert before they get there. Then, I’ll go find a waiter and tell them they missed a table . . .
I quickly texted Amy: “How many carbs do you think are in a slice of chocolate cake?”
She sent back: “More than you’re allowed.”
I shot back: “Sometimes, LIKE RIGHT NOW, I hate you.”
Next came some nonsense about her helping me, yea, right, blah blah blah. Help would be letting me eat some cake. ***Note from Amylynn – this from the person who told me I wasn’t allowed to have a bight of cookie. A bite. But then she tried to bribe me to eat a churro.***
Things got worse, chicken was indeed the entrée. I hate chicken. Unless it’s KFC and then I eat the delicious coating off and give the chicken to my pets.
During all of this – the speech started. There was lots of clapping, (but not from the Popsicle people, their hands were still frozen from being outside), and quoting of Ronald Reagan. When is the last time you had to survive a Ronald Reagan quote? ***Amylynn again – I’ll bet she would have been happy if there’d been jelly beans though, huh.***
At the end, there was a standing ovation. I refused to stand because I was too weak from hunger. Everyone looked at me like an atheist at a revival meeting in the South on a Sunday.
I left with my head held high and a piece of cake in one hand and a Popsicle in the other. When I got into the hall, I shouted “Long live Martin Luther King, Jr.!” and sprinted down the corridor to safety.
I don’t think I’ll be asked to attend anymore of these functions . . .
Another one!!!
Here is the newest cover for something I’ve got going up this week. Once again the lovely Jaycee DeLorenzo over at Sweet & Sassy designs did it for me. She does gorgeous work, wouldn’t you agree?
Release date to come…
I’m particular about the people I want on my covers, so I can’t just give her a vague description and hope to get something that’s going to make me happy. I troll the royalty free stock photo sites for just the right thing. The hero of The Sea Rose is a pirate. Of course he is. Girls love pirates. It’s a known fact. They like their pirates dark and handsome. Try putting in the words “dark-haired pirate” into a photo search engine and you get a bunch of wonky, jacked-up cartoon pirates or a thousand Jack Sparrow wannabes. So I modified it to “dark-haired man” and got 16,340 results. That’s 165 pages of unusable photos. All of the men are wrong. OR you find the right face/hair combination and he’s wearing clothes that are completely unsuitable. Or he’s making a ridiculous expression. Or he’s twelve.
So we narrowed it further and input “handsome dark-haired man” which netted 7,785 results. Ava and I sad on my computer at Bank of No Forks and cackled away at some of the suggestions. Every third one looked like they were trying to channel a vampire. Not just any vampire mind you, but a dark, brooding Anne Rice kind of vampire. ***eye roll***
So it came down to looking at 165 pages of men and ending up with half a pirate. He’s not exactly right. His hair is off a bit from my mind but at least he doesn’t look like he’s going to exsanguinate you from a major artery.
Brrrrrrr-rrrrrr-rrrrrr!
How do you know it’s too cold? I’m gonna tell you.
It’s way too freaking cold when your best friend (Amy meant “best BOY friend here, not that I’m upset, I’m too cold to be upset – Ava.) texts you from Anchorage: 41 in Anchorage and 27 in Tucson. What the? My response was that I didn’t want to talk 
about it. Honest to god, we live in the desert for a freaking reason and it’s not to be colder than god damn Alaska.
It’s also too cold when the fountain in front of your office is frozen. That’s just ridiculous. Pretty, but ridiculous.
It’s also too cold when the kitten and the bloodhound have to cuddle together for warmth. Dogs and cats living together! What the hell is the world coming to?
I shall not participate in tomorrow if this nonsense continues. Let this be a warning.