Fantasy Man Friday

Well, here we are. The final Friday of 2011. Where did this year go? It seems like just yesterday I was hopped up on manic delight with the contracts to publish the first three books in my Veil series and then signing on with an agent. I suppose the time flew by because it was filled with so much awesome news.

I won’t recap. Not much, but I had four books published in 2011. Saw my godson move out-of-town to start a new college. Welcomed with a few tears, the arrival of my brother’s first child. Went to New York City for the first time ever and saw some really interesting things, met some awesome people, and came home sounding like a man because I lost my voice. I had my very first book party and reading, celebrated new releases by my friends, read some amazing books, and posted some memorable fantasy men here on Unearthly Musings.

Of course, there’s been bad stuff too. Broken air conditioners, snakes in the house, broken freezers, family drama, and stress from the day job. But it’s funny how those things don’t matter now. I recently re-read Comanche Moon by Catherine Anderson and the hero, Hunter, said something that stuck with me (after reading the book about five times). Basically yesterday is gone. You can’t get it back again and what happened then doesn’t matter now. You can only look forward. “Keep your eyes on the horizon.” That’s something I plan to attempt in 2012.

And now that I’ve bored you all, it’s time to wake you up again. I fretted over today’s fantasy man something terrible. I mean, he’s the last fantasy man of the year! He has to sum up the stunning musculature we ogled in 2011. He has to embody everything I like to admire in the male form. He has to be hawt and ripped and smexy as all hell. And this is who I found:

Man, in bed. The only way this could be better is if those underwear were gone and well, I’ll let you use your imagination. I know my imagination is all over this like a pre-teen would be on Justin what’s his face (I can never spell his name properly). Oh yes, I can think of many, many naughty things to do to this gorgeous man and none of it involves letting him relax. Whoo-wee! I do love Fantasy Man Fridays.

Here’s to 2012! Have a safe and Happy New Year!

Cajun French: Chenes/Chien

Time for another lesson in Cajun French. Today’s lesson was actually inspired by a disagreement I got into with a co-worker. We were talking about fishing and where we go. After confirming we fish in the same area, Pointe-aux-Chenes, we had a discussion about the meaning of Pointe-aux-Chenes. My co-worker speaks Spanish and insisted it meant “nose of the dog”. I disagreed. I knew it meant “point of the oak”.

He wouldn’t believe me. Finally, I called one of my Cajun connections to settle the dispute. He agreed with me. I love being right. I can see why my Spanish-speaking friend would get the two confused.

Chene  pronounced “shan” (soft n) means oak. Chien pronounced “she-in” (long e, soft n) means dog. If you’re listening to someone speaking who mispronounces either one of these words, it would be easy to think they were talking about a dog instead of an oak tree. Naturally, Pointe pronounced “pon” (soft n) means point.

This is a chene:

This is a chien:

This is a Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog which is the state dog.

 

The Red

Today is the last post for December’s red theme. I hope you’ve enjoyed the music and found things to add to your playlists! I think next month will be blue. I have a lot of blue songs in my head right now and I have to get them out. You poor, poor readers!

Today’s song is by one of my favorite bands. I can’t remember when I first heard of Chevelle. I imagine it was in 2002, or 2003, but once I heard this song, I was hooked. They have an edgy, melodic sound that I find very interesting. They show up a lot on my Pandora stations because their sound is similar to my absolute favorite band ever: Tool. Not exactly, mind you, but close.

I’ve actually played a song by them before on another What’s Playing Wednesday. I’m too lazy to go back and find the link, but I know I had them on here. Today’s song is called “The Red”. I hope you enjoy!

The Cherry Chase

Well, I’m back from my small Christmas break, but that doesn’t mean the trauma has ended. Oh, Christmas was great. I got to spend time with my three nephews, girlfriends of two of them (one of which is now a fiance!), and the rest of my family. However, getting to Christmas day was a chore.

If you follow me on Twitter or Facebook, you would have read an update that went like this:

I just dropped a whole jar of cherries on the driveway. #lostmy cherry

That was on Friday afternoon. I’d gone to the grocery store with the specific task of buying pineapples, cherries, and honey for the ham my mom planned to cook for Christmas. After being caught in traffic for nearly an hour on the way to the store and then another hour getting home, I was in a bit of a huff. (I may have mentioned a few million times how much I don’t like shopping or going to the store.) I was so glad to be home, I practically slammed on my brakes and breathed a sigh of relief.

Then it was time to get the groceries. I opened the hatch of my HHR and started grabbing bags. Unfortunately, I grabbed the wrong one and the cherries slid out of the car and splattered on the driveway. It looked like I’d just killed something with the cherry juice all over the place. I was hopping mad. I hate when things like this happen, but since I already knew I had to go to the store again (because I forgot to buy honey), I was okay. Sort of. I was still very displeased.

On Saturday morning I braved the wild Christmas Eve traffic. I wasn’t planning to go to an actual grocery store because I know better than that. Ha! I stopped at Walgreens to pick up the cherries and honey as well as a few last minute Christmas gifts. I stalked down the small grocery aisle only to find they didn’t have any cherries. Well, damn. I’d have to go to another, smaller store because there is no way I’m going to the damn grocery store! I went to another store that sold a few more groceries. I went up and down each aisle searching for cherries. I looked everywhere and other than chocolate covered cherries, I couldn’t find any.

But I wasn’t finished. Oh no. I stopped at a gas station. Surely they had to have one very small jar of cherries. The station I chose had a smaller selection than Walgreens did and I finally asked the attendant if they had any. She gave me a look like she thought I’d lost my mind—maybe I had—and said no. That was it. I was defeated. I refused to go back to town to the grocery store and this was the last place I could think of near home that might have cherries.

In the end we didn’t have cherries for the ham. I’d given up. The great cherry chase was over. It was only later that my sister said, “I had a jar of cherries at home.” I might have glared at her, but I let it go. This is the last I’ll ever mention hunting for cherries. It’s a sore subject for me. In fact, I might boycott ham altogether.

I hope your Christmas was wonderful!

Fantasy Man Friday

Well here we are, folks, the Friday before Christmas. I’m slowly getting into the Christmas spirit. I’ve been struggling the entire holiday season with a case of the glooms, but things are starting to look up.

I’m going to keep it short and sweet today because you’re not here to read whatever silliness I come up with. No, you’re here for the man. Consider him a Christmas present from me to you all.

I tried to keep it kind of Christmas like with the splash of red. Did I pull it off? I know what I’d really like to pull off, bwahahaha. Rar. Sweaty men are delicious, don’t you think? I mean, look at those muscles! Le sigh.

 

Merry Christmas, y’all! I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

12 Yats of Christmas

As you all know I normally reserve Thursdays for Cajun French. Well with Christmas coming up, I needed to post something local as a nod to the holidays. I’ve already done “Walkin’ in da woods with my parrain” (I think last year, or the year before) and “A Cajun Night Before Christmas” so I had to go digging. And what I found is local flavor, but not Cajun.

No, today I’ll be exposing y’all to “Yat” which is considered an English dialect specific to the Greater New Orleans area. There’s a distinct difference between Yat and Cajun, but we all understand each other, or so it seems.

Today’s post is a song by a band called Benny Grunch and the Bunch, a New Orleans group who had a whole album dedicated to the Yat language. The song “The 12 Yats of Christmas” is heard on local radio stations throughout the holidays. Most people get Bing Crosby, this is what we get and I have to say I love it. Okay,we get Bing Crosby too, but this is more fun.

I made sure to find a video with the lyrics on the screen so you’ll be able to understand what they’re saying. Merry Christmas, y’all!

Redlight, Greenlight

Keeping up with my “red” colored music theme for December, I’ve picked a song that has become something of a recent favorite. I hate that word really because favorite means you prefer something over all others and I can’t do that with music. If someone were to ask me what my favorite song was, I’d probably faint from indecision.

Every song has something to love about it. Kind of like people. But that’s too deep for this post. We’re going to stick to the music. This song is by a band called Redlight King. See? I worked “red” into the topic. The song is called “Bullet In My Hand”. It was a real toss-up for me whether I wanted to pick this song from a “red” band, or “Ultragigantor” by Red Line Chemistry since that one’s like my morning drive song. It gets me to the office because I’m trying to catch up with the driving guitar. “Bullet In My Hand” is my afternoon drive song because though it’s heavy, it mellows me out.

Oh to heck with it. I’ll give you both and let you decide.

Morning drive:

 

Afternoon drive:

Reviewing the Situation

I love Oliver! Not as much as my brother and best friend who watched it together the first time they ever met, but it’s a great musical. That’s where the title of this blog is from, in case you were wondering.

I’ve had to take stock of my goals and be realistic about how I plan to see them come to fruition in 2012. I had big plans to attend three conferences in the spring and then a few in the fall. With the holidays here, which for some reason always put me behind financially, I’ve had to review the situation.

I had the FF&P conference, Silken Sands conferences, and RT planned for the spring. I really wanted to go to RT, but as Murphy’s Law dictates, things happen. I’m now skipping RT because right now things are just not working out with finances and vacation time and well, you name it and there’s a problem with it.

I’m actually okay about it. As disappointed I’ll be not to go to Chicago, staying closer to home until I get a better handle on things is best. Not to mention the constant worry about how I was going to manage three conferences in seven weeks was wearing on my creative mind.

Yes, my muse has suffered these concerns and I hate when that happens. Ditching one conference has eased my mind and I already have an idea where I went wrong with my current WIP. It’s like a door opened in my mind, freeing it to see the subplots I was bogging under, the horrible conflict I’d come up with, and now I can work on my story with no burdens.

2012 is going to be a year of small conferences for me. I’m giving the big ones a break for now, but definitely plan to go to at least one in 2013. Hope to see some of you around the small conferences!

Confession Time

As you all know, I adore my dog, Mia. She’s a miniature Schnauzer and my constant companion. If she had things her way I’d stay home all the time and let her sit/sleep in my lap. That’s her idea of heaven. Poor puppy.

I admit I baby her. I can’t help myself. She’s just so cute and needy, I want to protect her from everything. I give her treats, I have her groomed and that’s where the confession comes into play.

She’s a nervous rider. She whines and cries in the car and tries to climb in my lap. The first time I brought her to the groomer, it was her first time away from me ever. I dropped her off and went about my business trying not to think of the horror stories I’ve heard of dog groomers.

That afternoon they called to let me know she was ready. I was filled to bursting with happiness to get my baby girl back again. I raced to the groomer and walked in the door. A mini-Schnauzer was on the counter and the minute I walked in the door, she went berserk with joy. She looked so good! Her fur was trimmed, her beard and mustache looked brighter and she was thrilled to see me. I picked her up and brought her home. She was so well-behaved in the car, so completely happy to be going home and I realized this grooming thing couldn’t be too bad.

But when I got home and she jumped out of the car she took one look at my old cat (whom she’d grown up with) and tore after her like a demon. About that time, my mom came to the door and shouted the words no pet owner wants to hear:

You brought the wrong dog home!

What??? That was impossible! This was my Mia! She’d been so happy to see me she’d almost jumped in my arms, but then I saw the way she and the cat were going at it and realized I had indeed brought the wrong dog home. My cousin, she of the warped sense of humor I’ll tell you about another time, was there and offered to go back to the groomer with me. I was so embarrassed to have brought the wrong dog home, I made my cousin go in with the imposter and bring my Mia out.

To this day, whenever I say how much I love my dog, my family reminds me (and Mia) of how I brought the wrong dog home. I have to soothe my baby girl and tell her it was only an accident. That’s when I give her another treat because I don’t want her feelings hurt.

And of course, every time I pick her up from the groomer I study her carefully. Is her little birthmark on her back? Does she have curved canines? Is she whining and crying in the car? Does she ignore the cat in favor of a treat? If she does all of that, I know it’s my Mia and not another imposter.

Fantasy Man Friday

I’m back. Sorry I didn’t post anything yesterday. I was huddled in my bed the entire day trying to shake this weird sinus/stomach thing I caught. I wish I was in my bed again today because I’m still not feeling 100%. It was nice being in bed. My dog liked it, so did the cat. We were all in bed the majority of the day and I even went to sleep at my normal time last night. So yeah, wasn’t feeling the blog yesterday and now I feel guilty about it.

I guess I’ll have to figure some way to make it up to y’all. Like a really good-looking fantasy man. Did I mention I dreamed about football last night?  You’re probably wondering what that has to do with anything, but it does. I dreamed that the Jaguars came back from a 41 point deficit to defeat the Falcons. That didn’t happen, but I dreamed it and it’s now stuck in my head. So today, I give y’all a sexy football player:

There’s a reason I watch this sport, you know and it isn’t just to see the plays. There’s nothing like watching a bunch of tight, muscled butts in skin-tight pants running around a field. The shoulder pads just emphasize those little butts and hello? Thighs. I do like thighs. Rar.

Happy Friday!