June 1st...sketching, writing, reading...The Wild Marquis/ Bibliophilia???

I love historical romances because they are so rich in texture and touches the senses so much that I feel I am walking into a musty library or attic and can feel the thick wrinkled leather of the old book bindings.  The Wild Marquis by Miranda Neville touches on another nobleman's past time, rare book collecting.  So fascinating and for book lovers like myself, I can't stop being intriqued by the varied nature of the works mentioned, some fictional, some real.  For being such a conservative british kingdom with the utmost strictness for decorom and deportment, they had an awful lot of ribauld and risque written works, and erotic illustrated works.  Perhaps because they were all laced up so tight and restricted with their thousand rules and more rules, they needed to let loose in secret with a forbidden fruit on paper.  I'm loving this book in all manners of the word, plot, characters, historical facts, it touches all of my senses; I'm completely immersed.  So, I'm going to go know and um, read my own forbidden fruit! Peace!

I Have Writer's Block...

I have been avoiding my computer.  I start cleaning, dusting, folding laundry, wandering outside....I have my notebook and jot a few ideas, but none of them seem to go anywhere...

I started typing this morning feeling that how am I ever going to get published if I don't type something?  I have a bunch..a lot of written stories, but I don't feel like going back and editing them.  I have a work in progress for a Regency story that I think will be too complicated and tricky with the historical accuracy, dates, events, etc...I haven't been able to go back to it and just start typing. I like to have my plot figured out in advance and I can't seem to get my mind focused enough to do it.  At Dunes and Dreams at Pindar I was so surprised that one author, Beatrice Small told me she nevers does that.  She just writes and let's the creative process flow... Wow.  I could try that and let the twists and turns happen as they may, but I can't seem to do it.

My head gets foggy.  I get tired...I know what it is...it's fear of failure.  It's fear of, what if I really can't do this? I really am not organized enough, and simply am not that good a writer.  So, here I am at my blog instead where it is safe and anything goes. Yeah. That's helpful.  That'll get me published and who the hell am I talking to anyway?  Is anyone listening?  Probably not.  This is more of a cathartic thing then anything.  I'm talking to myself.  Am I going crazy?  Writers block makes me crazy.

Well....it's a nice day, a light breeze blowing, and it looks extremely inviting out there.  Yup.  I am procrastinating some more.  I have been fighting probably the worst sinus infection/allergies of my life and it is draining me.  I feel extremely sleepy.   You know what? If the creative juices aren't flowing they aren't flowing.

Besides, Lady Cecelia is thinking, when the heck are you going to finish me???  Soon.  Lady C.  soon....

As U2 says, "I need a miracle drug."  Maybe a run will clear the cobwebs from my head and pump up some endorphines...Try again later.

Touched by a University of VA Angel Today

After the violent and tragic murder of Yeardley Love, a senior University of Virginia lacrosse player by George Huguely, a senior University of Virginia lacrosse player, I didn’t know how I’d feel or what to expect when I watched both teams play.


I remembered a scandal with Duke University men’s lacrosse players and how it gave lacrosse a bad name, a privileged arrogance and disregard for others. This event was completely different. The feelings of pain, grief, befuddlement and a numbing shock that was written all over the faces of the Men’s lacrosse players when they hit the field was obvious, but I wasn’t expecting the loving supportive family-like feeling that the young men were showing to Yeardley Love, her family, and their fellow “sisters” of lacrosse, the women’s lax team. They had on their shirts 1 Y L, unified in their love, their support, and their commitment to rise to be the best of humanity and show reverence to their lost sister. They played their hearts out. The speed, the power, the ferocity of their play unleashed their pent up anger, sadness, confusion and grief. I loved how the coach said to the boys that I don’t care really how you play, but I want us to win so we can stay together another week. They need each other. They need the safe cocoon of their team setting to keep it together, to talk to one another, to console one another, and even to simply shake their heads to one another in disbelief that one of their own is sitting in a jail cell and that one of their beloved sisters was gone. They may still be in the denial stage of grief mixed with anger. The next stage is depression and it is far better to have a huge support system around them then to be heading home – alone.

Today, the U Va girls’ lax team hit the field against Towson. They struck hard right out of the gate with three goals in a row. Again, the physical energy was the release they needed after they buried a friend, a roommate, a graduating classmate and a close teammate. I watched them carefully. At times they smiled after a goal, but it quickly disappeared; that’s right. Yeardley is not here. When they were moving and running like gazelles, their mind was 100% on the game, but if they paused, or there was a stop in play, a numb glaze crossed their faces; the horrific events still lingered. As much as they tried to tuck away their pain, it never really is buried down too deep. Grief never really goes away. Even after three and half years after losing my mother, it catches me off guard, grief, and tears will slide down my face. It resurfaces when, I guess it needs to.

What was really cool and sweet for the girls, were in the bleachers were a section where the boys lacrosse players watched and cheered on their girls. It was awesome. You see, the bad guys aren’t “Lacrosse” or “The Boys’ Lacrosse Team.” There is one bad guy here, an individual named George. The teams are in it together and are working their grief through together. Even more amazing was Yeardley’s mom, brother and sister were in the bleachers watching, too. Amazing. I’m surprised the mom could even walk mired in her grief, but she was there. Perhaps she felt that is where her daughter would be if she were alive, and/or in spirit. I think she was right. An angel was among them.  The girls won and held signs with a large bold “1” on them. Even more impressive was the gesture of The Towson team giving to every member of the U Va team a pin of an angel holding a lacrosse stick. Wow. Enough said. - SSdh

"Oh My Gosh"....Breaking Down With Usher

OMG…Call me crazy, but this Usher song makes me move.


Let me love you down..

clap clap clap clap

there is so many ways to love ya.

Oh my God, I’m so in love.. I finally found you….you make me want to say…oh.oh.oh.oh.

My shoulders are shifting up and down…

and my booty is moving pow pow pow….

check check check it …checking you out….I’m getting down like in Animal House--lower and lower...I'm grooving....

It makes me feel sexy…I just want to dance and sway.

You make me want to say…oh.oh.oh.oh. Oh My Gosh…..

oh.oh.oh.oh. My foot is tapping; my body is moving….

my oh my…..fly so fly….my oh my…

.Ohhhhh, baby you got it all. Sexy from the head to toe. Baby I want it all.

Oh my Gosh..I’m so in love…I finally found you finally. Honey let me love you down. There are so many ways to love ya.

Okay. Here’s the story…I am majorly stressed out because while my husband was watching my son play lacrosse someone smashed his driver’s side window and plucked out his wallet from our car. Yes, my husband is from another time and feels like all is good in the world and that no one would ever do such a thing. Today was a reality check. Not only were there credit cards and more…but that wallet had sentimental value, too. It was his father’s wallet and still had some of the contents in it, such as his father’s wedding picture and his driver’s license. His father died 3 ½ years ago from wretched leukemia. So, that is why I am cranking music and letting it out…with music. Like the 80's tune, "We Can Dance If We Want To..."  Keep your things, safe people. Stay safe. Peace….Now, time for Mozart or Celtic tunes to soothe my stressed out soul. - SSdh

So…Was Getting Hit By The Church Basket Good Luck After All? Was It A Sign?

Hard to say, …YET. I did get an article published in MORE magazine’s website. I did meet some fabulous authors at a Book Signing at Pindar over the weekend. And I perhaps, crossed paths with an angel with a scary last name (kind of ironic, actually) that could lead me to new opportunities.


So, maybe that lump on my noggin’ was worth something after all. Things aren’t moving for me as fast I’d like, and I still feel the need to paint and write to release some pent up emotions. That is actually normal and healthy as opposed to locking it inside and letting it damn up until I explode on somebody in a PMS volcanic eruption. That has happened and it is not pretty. My co-worker never knew the meaning of the word PMS until she met me. When I breeze into the office and announce that my period arrived last night, she actually falls back against her chair and sighs in relief like she had just run the marathon or something. What? “Oh, thank God. I made it through this month.” Geez. Am I that bad? Well, yeah, I can be. I think right now I’m PMS’ing and she poured me some tea…come to think of it. She looks like a nervous rabbit and is kind of tip-toeing around me. I’m cranky, yes. I’m tire, yes. Oh, crap. I am PMS’ing.

I digress. Back to the church basket. I guess, if I want to see major good luck or a sign from above instantly, I suppose, I needed to be clonked on the head unconscious. Patience, my dear. Patience. Something of which, I sorely lack. I want it NOW! (PMS talking.) When the tears arrive, it’ll be over soon. P.s. I don’t really recommend sticking your head up for your own collision when the usher comes by with the church basket. Dog doo never worked either.

Checking out Dunes and Dreams Romance Writers

I'm heading off to Pindar Vineyards for a book signing hosted by Dunes and Dreams Romance Writers. What's cool is that I can speak to published authors, possibly purchase a book, one has me intriqued by the title alone, The Glass Armonica, but that anything I purchase supports Literacy in Suffolk. So, it's an awesome cause supporting the love of reading! I'll check back and let you know how it is. I may join their group so I can meet with authors and discuss the process of writing these novels, while having fun! I'm dragging a fellow writer with me as I am not brave enough to go alone.

Art Therapy Birthed "Lady Cecelia"

I used Art Therapy on myself. I couldn’t shake the fog out of my head, feeling lethargic, listless and a bit rather hopeless. I want to do things at this point of my life and sometimes, I feel it is as though it is too late. I know I read many articles and personal stories of it is never too late, but at times, it gets the best of me of me and I feel it is too late for me. So…”Lady Cecilia” has been haunting me, begging me to add color to her. You can see my sketch on the sidebar. I’ve been scared to. Sketching is one thing, but adding color is do or die time. Once color is applied that is it; there is no going back. And, faces! I hate painting faces! I can sketch them to some degree, rather decently, but adding color is when I screw it up. But, I must say…I’m loving this painting…I held my breath and went for it. Played with color, one dab at a time and fearlessly painted. The vivid red and the cobalt blue are vibrant and happy, yet her expression is extremely pensive and is the teasing storyline I like. Is she waiting for someone? Is she regretting a decision she made? Is she mulling over a decision? It’s up to the viewer. The background is soothing with its colors of mustard, light blue and pink. Put it all together and this pictures speaks to me, pulls me in. What do you think? p.s. It’s not finished, nearly there….need to do pillow, necklace and gloves.