Home 2018 (Page 3)

Year: 2018

Adventures in Camping

It’s been awhile since I talked about camping. Hubby and I bought a pop-up camper about four years ago as an anniversary gift to ourselves. We’d gotten tired of tenting it, and after a grueling nearly 100-degree week up north, we decided that things needed to change. We’ve camped every year since, and it’s been amazing. We usually go at least once a month through summer and we usually go for one big one-week trip at some point. We got back from one such trip yesterday. It was a new campground to me, Sleeper State Park in Caseville, Michigan, about 2-3 hours away from where we live. Hubby had been there previously. It’s a beautiful place. One funny thing is that there was the Cheeseburger Festival going on that weekend, and guess what? The entire campground had filled up fast. Everyone had flamingos on their sites, and pictures of cheeseburgers and drinks. I guess this was a thing. So we ended up snagging the very last open site, which was very far from the bathroom. Regretfully. I know this sounds utterly ridiculous, but I have issues. So sometimes I need to get to the bathroom quickly. So hubby always tries to get us close. Doesn’t need to be steps away…but it’s helpful if it’s not a hike and a half. Last year, we had the same situation. The map on the website made it look like our site was next to the bathroom, but lo and behold, when we got…

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A Surplus of Books

It’s moving week around here. My mother, my mother-in-law, my grandmother, the neighbors across the street, someone the next street over… It’s madness. But it’s somewhat removed madness, because I am not moving, and my mother does not want help, and no one else expects any help from my direction. The biggest thing has been my grandmother moving. My grandparents bought the house forty years ago (brand new) and have lived there since (well, my grandfather died some time ago, so Grandma has), so that’s a long time to accumulate stuff. My grandmother is in her late ’90s and has decided to move into assisted living (she’s perfectly lucid, so it was entirely her decision), so she’s also shoving off almost everything. Forty years of everything. My grandmother has five children (including my mother) and apparently there is a feel that everything must be fair about the shoving off of everything, so there’s a long list of things that Grandma is not taking with her, and everyone has to go through it and see what they like, and put in a claim on their preferences. People with children have to do it for both them and their children, so having children actually puts them at a disadvantage because every one of the five siblings gets an equal share. It has turned into a madhouse. I mean, it’s truly remarkable. I won’t go into that, but Good Lord. Last week I went up to visit (my mother also currently lives in the same…

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Fits and Starts

Did you know that writers are not just brains-in-a-jar? We actually have bodies. I know, I’m shocked too. It turns out that bodies have needs. I’m fairly good at remembering to feed, water, and rest mine (mostly because I turn into a giant grump if I don’t). Moving is harder (see this Awkward Yeti comic). I’m currently trying to establish a daily yoga habit…again. Here’s how it has been going: Last fall/winter: Okay, I can’t stand inaction anymore. It’s too painful (literally). I have to make a lifestyle change. January: Did a “30 Days of Yoga” challenge. It took me slightly longer than 30 days because I missed one here and there, but I was pretty consistent and finished within an extra week or so. It felt great! I was less creaky and sore! More flexible! Yay! February: 30 days is over and I feel much better. Now to keep it up! But I don’t have the challenge to guide me anymore. I have to make up my own yoga practices (or at least make decisions about which online yoga video to follow). This is hard. March: Down to once or twice a week…maybe. But I still feel a lot more limber. Now I don’t have to do yoga ever again! … June: I’m getting kinda creaky. Better pick it up again. Once or twice a week will be enough, right? July: No it will not. Ow. August: 30-day challenge, here I come again! OOPS, I got too enthusiastic. Ow.…

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Fireborn

Reaper Girl Chronicles, Episode 2   Buy Fireborn: Kobo | iTunes | Nook Former Grim Reaper Leliel and her new husband Rick have settled into a routine of normalcy after their life-changing trip to the Underworld. They can finally relax and be married and deal with mundane problems, like money and learning to use all the modern-day technologies that are new to Leliel. But they’re up for the challenge. Until Leliel starts having frightening visions of people on fire. The fires appear to be suicides—young adults—but something isn’t right. She senses that they were forced to act against their will. This isn’t their time to die. Even though she’s no longer a Reaper, she needs to fix it. Somehow. When she and Rick investigate, they encounter resistance from not only the police but also the families and friends of the dead. Complicating factors are the Tarot cards left at the scenes, the mysterious happenings at the college that all of the dead turn out to have attended, and the disturbing new abilities that Rick is developing. And then Leliel’s own Tarot deck turns up the Death card–twice–and she realizes that she’s gotten the attention of something evil…something she must face without Rick by her side. Meanwhile, the deaths are mounting…

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Back to School AAAHH

I work at a school. Last Thursday, my teachers came back. Next Thursday, my kids come back. My life gets pretty hectic this time of year. I love my teachers, my job, and my kids, but good lork. A conversation from today, in script form: Staff: Our smart board (basically a huge touch screen attached to a computer) doesn’t work. Me, bounding out of my chair to go have a look: Still? I reported it yesterday, and IT said they fixed it this morning. Staff: Oh, no, I hadn’t had the chance to check it today. (A short period of time passes) Staff: Our smart board still doesn’t work. Me: Did it work at all before it started back doing the thing? Staff: Oh, it’s not doing the same thing. Now it just comes up, says “no signal” and goes black. Me: That’s the monitor. The computer is off. Staff: What computer? Me: ~goes into classroom, turns computer on the back of the monitor on~ Time: ~passes~ SAME STAFF, at my desk again: Our keyboard and mouse don’t work for the smart board. Me: Did you check the batteries? Staff: First thing. Me: ~goes into classroom, checks motion of mouse, checks laser is not obstructed, notices mouse is not turned on, turns it on. Sees on/off switch on keyboard is also set to OFF, turns on. Turns glare on staff member.~ Staff: I…Diet Coke, right? Or dark chocolate? Me: Both. Don’t you think? Staff: …yeah. I do. The staff member…

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The Hailey Chronicles

I first met Hailey when my husband, who was at the time my boyfriend, brought me home to his apartment. Sitting there was a black cat with green-yellow eyes. She was just two years old. And i fell in love with her on the spot (I also fell in love with her daddy, but that took slightly longer). She used to love play-biting me. And screwing with my husband’s Christmas tree. This little thing made a move to our apartment ten years ago and followed me out of it when I was signing for a UPS shipment. I’d walked in, shut and locked the door, and ate dinner. About a half hour later, I hear her crying and realize, oh crap! She’s outside. I spent at least fifteen minutes apologizing for leaving her out there, alone and scared. Once she darted out of the apartment and up the stairs. I thank God for the outer door being closed. She might have left us, never to return again. She made the move to where we live now, an actual house to roam in. She has her favorite places: on top of the recliner (she has amazing balance), on the bed, on the couch in the evenings, my office sometimes. On the couch in the basement in the mornings with hubby. Hailey’s not a cuddler or lap cat, and holding her usually results in panicked yowls and wiggling until she’s set free. However, when I was recovering from ankle surgery, she actually…

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Planning for Never

Have you ever spent a ton of time of a project you suspect you’ll never do? If you’re anything like me, you love the idea. You do research. You plan things out. Everything would be ready to go…if you would just start it up. Sometimes I even go so far to buy supplies that never get used. (Though I try not to get to that point, because that’s a waste of money that could be used for coffee and books.) There’s something so lovely about an idea, isn’t there? Because it isn’t real, because it doesn’t exist, the possibilities are endless. Of course, there are sometimes reasons not to go through with something–if it’s too expensive, if you don’t have the skills to pull it off, if you can’t fit anything else in your schedule, if you can’t or won’t actually do anything with it when it’s done… The nice thing about ideas is that there’s lots of them. Another one will come along. Or maybe things will change, and that idea will become a reality. I had that happen recently–I planned a short story years ago, but never wrote it. Except now I have, and I’m pretty pleased with how it turned out, as well. And it doesn’t hurt anything to plan. It’s fun. It’s practice. And maybe something will actually come out of it. Currently I’m poking fantasy clothing. We spend our summers at festivals–medieval festivals, renaissance festivals, Scottish festivals–you name it, and we’re game. And I don’t…

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The Gardening Saga Resumes

If you were around these parts last year, you might remember that my spouse and I kinda gave up on our vegetable garden for a year, covering it over with landscape fabric and mulch to try to suppress the perennial weeds (bindweeds) that had overtaken it. This year we’re trying again. But we’re trying to be smarter about it. Half of the vegetable bed is just plain covered over again. The other half has been divided into a grid system invented by my spouse, with strips of fabric surrounding 1′ X 1′ squares of open soil. (Think plaid.) The fabric parts have been mulched again, and the rest of the mulch will cover the open soil. That way, there will be a strong weed barrier over much of the garden, a weaker barrier over the rest. and we should be able to keep up a little better. At least that was the plan. But due to our work schedules, we can’t do much (or any) gardening during the week, and our last three weekends have looked like this: out of town; rainy; hot as Hades. So we haven’t finished the mulching, and the bindweed has popped up again in the squares. At least the fabric is holding them back for now. Despite our neglect, most of what we’ve planted is thriving. (Thank goodness for my in-laws, who water diligently while we’re at work!) The tomatoes in particular are loving the heat. We still have some squares to fill; I’m thinking…

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Fireborn Teaser

Hey, this is Erin, and what follows is a teaser from Chapter 1 of Fireborn, our August release. Enjoy!   “I can’t stop thinking about those deaths.” Rick and I were in the car on our way to the veterinarian—an animal doctor—which was what normal cat owners did. Rick figured that Love looked pretty normal, with the exception of her razor-sharp claws and glowing eyes. She managed to dim them for now, and I hoped they’d stay dimmed. Or else we’d have lots of questions to answer. I had been wondering how her general health was. Whether living outside the Underworld had caused any permanent effects. It didn’t seem that way, but what did I know? I was still impressed with indoor plumbing and telephones. Rick glanced at me. “Are you are still being called?” He made a turn to the right. I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just…I want to fix it.” “You can’t fix death, as extraordinary as you are.” He flashed me a grin. “I don’t mean it that way,” I said, watching the scenery pass by. “I meant…change it…no, that’s not it.” I sighed. “This is tough to explain. I want to stop the suicides from happening.” Rick stopped at a red light. “So you do want to help?” “I feel like I should, you know? But this life means that I get to be normal again, and I don’t want to be involved with death anymore. I can’t decide.” My chest constricted. What I didn’t…

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Best of Intentions

When I came home from work today, as I staggered in the door escaping the 100°+ heat and was met by the cat who must be greeted immediately or Bad Things Happen, the housemate called from her room, “Oh! You’re home. I…had intended to do the thing today.” She said this because I had asked her to do the thing today, as I reluctantly trudged out the door to work nine hours before. “I had the best of intentions!” she assured me. I laughed and asked, “What’s the name of that place, you know, the road is paved with intentions, but I forget…?” and we laughed and I went off to my room and sat down to do the thing that I’m supposed to do tonight at the latest–write a blog post for Turtleduck Press. And that, dear friends, is where my own intentions went astray, because instead of landing on Turtleduck Press, I got a 500 error. Well, blast. I’m not the girl who runs straight to tech support. I know my way around a cpanel, at least more than some. So off I went, looking for advice. Hadn’t touched any permissions or the .htaccess, not blinking likely too many processes were running but I checked anyway, error log blank (really?), so off I went to tech support after all. And as I sat waiting for the lovely tech support person* in the chat to check all the things I already checked, I jotted some notes about the blog…

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