Fantasy Man Friday

It’s been another one of those weird weeks. Hopefully this doesn’t become a trend because I do like predictability in my weekdays.

One good thing that’s happened this week is that I finally finished my Christmas novella. Well, the first round of it at least. I did a quick edit and sent it to my CPs so they could tear it apart because to be honest, I was sick of looking at it. That’s one part of the writing process I don’t like, when you get to the point that you dislike your manuscript because you’ve been looking at it too long.

But that’s over with for now. I’m sure I’ll have lots of things to fix and that’s fine, I can handle that. Hopefully it doesn’t suck too much.

And now it’s Friday. The best day of the week in my opinion. I know last week I posted a very risqué picture and everyone thought Mr. Fantasy Man Friday had a snake on his lap. No, no, not that kind of snake! Y’all are so bad! LOL

I’m going to take it down a notch. I can’t let y’all get hot and bothered two weeks in a row! I don’t want to be responsible for single-handedly increasing the heat index in your part of the world. So I picked this guy:

He has a really nice…smile *cough* And that tattoo on his belly is intriguing, don’t you think? Kind of makes you wonder what it means. Directions to, er hidden areas? Like “This way to wonderland”? Or is it instructional? Hm, I wonder. I really wouldn’t mind finding out either!

Have a Happy Friday, y’all and a safe weekend!

Cajun French: Nanny

Before I begin, the kind of nanny I’m talking about today, isn’t this kind:

Although those kinds of nannies are cool—I guess cause we never had them growing up—the nanny in Cajun tradition, is a godmother. In our tradition, when parents baptize their children in the Catholic church, they choose a set of godparents to act as spiritual guardians. Sometimes those godparents can become legal guardians if the parents pass away.

Technically, the Cajun French word is nâ-nân (pronounced nah-nahn). I’ve rarely heard this particular word and I can only guess it’s because it was easier for kids to say nanny.

It’s important to remember that in the Cajun culture (if you’re planning to write about Cajun characters) that these are vital parts of our culture and tradition. Most everyone has a parrain (godfather) and a nanny (godmother). The relationships between godparents and godchildren can be indifferent, or they can be a very bond formed between godparent and child.

When my sister asked me to be nanny to her youngest child, I was fifteen. In the Catholic church, unless you have made your confirmation, you can’t become a godparent. I’d been out of the church for years, but when I learned about my soon-to-be godson, I bit the bullet and finished my confirmation so I could stand up in front of the church with him.

So be sure when you’re writing your Cajun characters that you take into consideration the heavy Catholic influence and spiritual aspects of the traditions here. Having godparents is a very fundamental part of our lives.

Do you have godparents and do you call them by a special name?

Remaking Gerry Rafferty

Yay for Wednesdays! They’re just the best ever…well, not better than Fridays, but they’ll do.

In continuation of my summer remake series, I’ve picked one of my favorite songs of all time. Seriously, this song is one I could listen to no matter when or where and jam. Every time I drive to my uncle’s house, we pass through a little community that has a street named Baker Street. And every time I see the sign, I say, “I want to live on Baker Street.” It’s been like this obsession with me since I first heard Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty.

I just love it. So when the Foo Fighters did a remake, I was very critical of it. I mean, I love the Foo Fighters. Dave Grohl is one of those musicians who can do anything he puts his mind to and this remake proves it. Sure, I’m sure most people on the poll today will go with the original, but you have to give the guys credit. They took a very recognizable song and made it their own, substituting the saxphone riffs with guitars and changing the lyrics just a little.

What do you think?

Original (RIP Gerry Rafferty)

Remake (Go Foo!)

At Least I Know I’m Weird

It isn’t like I take pride in my weirdness, but I know I’m weird and I accept that about myself. Yes, I frequently amuse myself to the point of chuckling at thoughts that run around my head and I’m strangely okay with this.

I suppose part of it has to do with being so much younger than my sister. When I was in my developing stages, she was a teenager and had no time for a bratty little sister. Yes, I have a younger brother, but he’s several years younger than me, so I was basically an only child until he became interesting. I embrace the fact that I had so much alone time as a kid because it helped me develop a very active imagination. Sometimes too active, but we’re not going into that.

My imagination is what made me start writing and now that I have a release, my weirdness keeps growing and growing. Take for instance this weekend. I was with people who don’t know me well (my nephew’s girlfriend’s parents) and the conversation I had with my sister on the drive came up.

First it was about how I got TJMaxx and TG&Y (a dollar store) mixed up. Okay, I can laugh about that because it was silly. But then I had to explain that sometimes a lot of caffeine isn’t a good thing for my thought process because it makes me take these huge leaps of logic that have no…logic.

Like Superman. Over at gee/k/ink last week, Charlotte Stein (who is an orsom writer, by the way) was talking about her favorite superhero who is Superman. She was very frank and open about him. Of course that meant I had to go several steps further and wonder if Superman was always super, then he had to have been a super baby, but how in the hell did his mom survive labor? Did he use his laser vision to perform his own C-Section? Did she have a super uterus which could withstand his super strength and laser vision? Could you imagine the kinds of kicks she had to endure during her pregnancy?? And if everyone on the home planet was super, how in the hell did they become extinct anyway? Shouldn’t they have been able to prevent it the way Superman protected Earth?

These are the things I ponder when I’m driving for six hours on a cup of coffee and a massive, never-ending cup of Diet Coke. Be scared. Be very scared.

I have no problem sharing these inane thoughts with people, which is why my co-workers look at me like I should be in a padded cell with a pack of Crayons and construction paper. But I’m okay with that because that’s who I am. If I have this weird need to see how my foot measures up against the seams in a wood-paneled wall, well…I’ve done it since I was a kid and I can’t stop it now.

I hate spaghetti noodles, but I like spaghetti sauce (with any other kind of noodle). I have to peel the labels off of beer bottles and paste them to the tables in the bar. These are just a few things that I know make people stare, or wonder, but I don’t care.

What weird things do you accept about yourself that other people might not?

Zombiefied: Weekend Wrap-up

Last week I mentioned that I was helping move my godson to an apartment out-of-town so he could start college. Well, that happened, to my dismay. Oh, I know. It’s a good thing that he’s continuing his education and I’m all for it, but I want my baby home!

It might sound sad to a lot of people, but in this family, you don’t leave. No, we’re not the mafia, but we may as well be. My uncles were the first to go. In the late 80s, they moved to Baton Rouge. That was hard, but not too difficult because it’s only a 2 hour drive away. Everyone else stayed close to home. Sure, we may live on opposite ends of the parish, or in a different parish, but it would take no more than 30 minutes to visit.

My godson, however, has carried his butt to Ruston which is 6 hours away. It’s for his own good, I know, but…it’s so far away! I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like if he’d gone to school out-of-state. I’d probably have to pick up and move with him!

But I’m not posting about my sniffly, depressive state today. No, I’m blogging about the fact that I feel like a zombie. Waking up at 4 on a Saturday morning is not my cup of tea. I do it during the work week, but Saturdays are sacred to me. Those are the days I’ll sleep late. You know, until maybe 6 in the morning. But this Saturday, I was on the road by 5:45 and that was just the start.

I’ve mentioned before how much I love to drive, and I do. I like the control of guiding my car, listening to my music, and taking in the sights. The thing about this trip though, is that there’s nothing to see. There are so many speed zones, my car was confused. We passed through towns that were called villages, which kind of blew my mind, and I saw more log houses than I ever knew existed in Louisiana.

Did I mention Ruston is in north Louisiana? It may as well be a whole different country! We took the kids grocery shopping and one of the most important items on our list was filé (fee-lay) so they could make a gumbo. Filé is a spice, ground sassafras leaves. We couldn’t find it in the spice aisle. We were staring at that small section of shelf in disbelief. No filé?? Inconceivable!

We did find it eventually. Around the crab boil and as far as I know, filé isn’t used in any seafood boils. But…what can you do? They’re not Cajuns.

Anyway, 6 hours on Saturday then immediately unloading two trucks, a trailer, two cars, and my little SUV meant we didn’t rest much. Oh sure, I had a nice soak in the hot tub at the hotel, but getting back on the road on Sunday morning (after 2-1/2 hours grocery shopping) only to drive for 6 hours to get home means I’m kind of in a daze today. I didn’t want to get in my car again, but had to. *sniff*

So that was my weekend. I hope the rest of the week turns out calm and relaxed so I can mentally prepare myself to travel for work next week. Did I mention I like to drive? Usually?

How was your weekend?

Fantasy Man Friday

Today I’m over at Queen Tutt’s World of Escapism for an interview and giveaway. This is an 18 and over blog.

It’s been a weird week. Not weird in a bad way, but in a “What the hell happened?” kind of way. Most of the blame goes towards the characters in my Christmas novella. No, the story will not be coming out for Christmas 2011. We’re hoping to see it out in 2012 though, so keep checking back.

You see, my characters are pushing me to uncharted territories. Hence my blog post about dark journeys. I’m toeing the line of a genre I’ve only recently started reading which makes me nervous and excited all at once. I mean, it’s something entirely new for me, but not like it’s a new lifestyle or anything. It isn’t the genre that’s change, it’s me. Which is weird and leaves me a little off-balance, but I kind of like it, so I’m not complaining.

I’m also blaming my baby (nephew) for putting me in a weird fugue. He’s transferring to a new college away from home and is moving into his apartment this weekend. *Sniff* Six hours away! *wails* Even though I don’t see him as much as I used to before he became a big man on campus, I’m going to miss him dreadfully. He’s my concert buddy, my baby *sniff, sniff* I’ll cry. I know I will. Yes, I’m going to help him move because I’m the most awesome aunt ever. But I’m still going to sniffle and cry and hug him like I can pick him up and stuff him in my purse. *sigh*

And now that I’ve totally depressed myself, I need some cheering up. *perks* Today’s Fantasy Man Friday!!! It’s a long drive and I’m kind of concerned about my tires…but I’m bringing this guy with me. I think he has um, everything I need to keep my motor running…

Bwahahaha! OMG, seriously. *fans herself* He can totally balance my tires any time he likes…change my oil too. Rar. Nephew? What nephew? There’s a hawt guy wearing nothing but a tire and you want to talk to me about teenagers? *Snort*

Happy Friday, y’all! Have a safe weekend!

It’s A Texture Thing

I’m deviating from my usual Cajun French post today because I need to gather more intelligence before I delve deeper into the language. Before I get to the post though, I’d like to mention that I’ll be over at Queen Tutt’s blog tomorrow for an interview and giveaway. **Warning: It is an 18 and over blog**

Now for the purpose of today’s post. Last night my aunt stopped by and for some reason, we started talking about how she tortures bribes her grandchildren into eating vegetables with dessert. Not a big deal, right? Kids need their veggies, after all. However, I had to put my two cents in because of the vegetable (or is it a fruit?) that she chose to make her grandchildren eat. She’s an evil woman. Later I’ll discuss how she tried to fool me into eating eggplant when I was younger.

The dreaded tomato. Oh sure, y’all think I’m crazy because who doesn’t like tomatoes? They use them to make spaghetti (which I’m not overly fond of), lasagna (which I love), pizza (which I adore), and you can slice them up and put them on sandwiches and burgers…okay, so maybe they’re not all that horrible, but to eat them raw? Or in a salad? *shudder*

I can handle them on food where I can’t see what I’m eating and there are different textures to combat the…squishiness. What bothers me about it? Well, I think because it’s a deceptive vegetable/fruit thing. A ripe tomato looks like it has some substance, like it’s crunchy, but as we all know, they aren’t. They’re liars, fooling people into thinking they’re hard like an apple or a pear when they’re so not.

*shudders* Have I ever eaten a raw tomato? Hell to the no. And I won’t either. If food looks hard and crunchy, it should be hard and crunchy. If it looks soft and squishy, it should look soft and squishy. I eat sushi after all, it isn’t like I don’t enjoy squishy. But sushi doesn’t lie to me with shiny, tight skin. It doesn’t feel firm or hefty. It is what it looks like. Unlike the lying, cheating tomato.

And that’s all I have to say about that. What vegetables/fruits do you dislike?