Friday, August 12th, 2011 • No Comments
This week’s topic at Oh Get a Grip! is “Soundtrack.” I wrote about music as inspiration and the first story I wrote after Patrick was born (which appears in Rachel Kramer Bussel’s new anthology Obsessed: Erotic Romance for Women.
Music comes and goes from my life—sometimes little more than background noise, other times providing much needed creative inspiration. I go through musical phases—times when I will pop in a favorite CD and listen to it again and again… for months. Or times when I discover a new (or old) favorite singer and have to listen to every song they ever recorded. Or times when a friend will turn me on to a new song outside my usual musical tastes and I will find myself being immersed in a whole new world.
Post-baby #1, I spent a lot of time listening to music. I needed a break from the usual household noises, which were either total silence or heartbreaking infant wails. It was winter, my husband was deployed and it was just the babe and me. There were days when the lyrics to the songs I played were the only adult voices I heard.
You can read the rest of my journey back to writing (thanks to Jakob Dylan) here: I Ain’t Changed, But I Know I Ain’t the Same
I’m also over at Girls Who Bite today, blogging about vampires and other lovely paranormal creatures. I’m very much looking forward to Delilah Devlin’s new anthology and I love, love, love the blog she has set up to promote the book! Do stop by and check out the interesting interviews, excerpts and contests going on!
Tuesday, August 2nd, 2011 • 2 Comments
The picture below is cute and innocent, but it’s a reminder that someday my baby (babies!) will be old enough to drive. Scary thought. Normally, I’m not of the “I don’t want him to grow up!” mentality. I love watching Patrick learn new things and discover the world around him. My little baby is about to become a big brother and that (mostly) delights me. He’s still my little baby, always will be. But someday, sooner than I would like, I’m going to have to send him out in the world and trust he will be safe—and trust that I have taught him to do the right thing and look out for himself. It’s not something I’m looking forward to.
One of the girls at my regular Starbucks was in a car accident over the weekend. She wasn’t wearing her seatbelt when the car hit a guardrail. She’s okay, relatively speaking. Her poor face is a mishmash of cuts and abrasions and stitches and bruises and swelling, but she’s alive and will likely have little more than a faint scar or two to remind her of the experience. But oh, I couldn’t help but look at her pretty face and think how much worse it could have been. She could’ve lost an eye, or broken delicate bones in her face. Or died.
I was in a similar car accident when I was 19. It was before there was even a seatbelt law (Florida was one of the last holdouts) and I had a Camaro. Those two facts were a disaster waiting to happen. But for whatever reason, on the fateful day my tires spun out on wet road and my car crashed into a wall, I was wearing my seatbelt. I still managed to crack the windshield with my head, but I walked away from the accident with nothing more than a goose egg on my forehead and a nasty bruise from the seatbelt. I was lucky. Just like the girl at Starbucks. But I was 19 then and thought I was invincible (or didn’t much care that I wasn’t). I’m older now and know my own mortality—and that of those I love.
Someday, I will hand Patrick (and his brother) the keys to a car and watch the slow grin spread over his face at the realization of his freedom. I will remind him to be careful, to obey the speed limit, to remember everything he’s been taught—and to wear his seatbelt no matter what. And I will hope he listens. I will hope he is smarter than I was at 19, smarter than the sweet 21 girl at Starbucks, smarter than every other teenager who ever drove a car. It’s a naive hope, I know, but it’s the only thing I can do. Hope.
Wear your seatbelt. Always. And remind your friends and your kids and your kids’ friends to do the same.
Thursday, July 28th, 2011 • 1 Comment
They grow up so fast.