Another one…

So here comes another purging of my guilty conscience…

American Idol.

I’ve been watching it.

My first time ever was last week and I don’t know how it happened, whatever possessed me or why watching these poor people stepping forth and willingly allowing the ever sarcastic Simon Cowell to skewer their sense of self intrigues me…but it does.

At least writers have the safety of phone lines and the written word to hide behind should someone not appreciate their work. And I’m even betting the more famous authors get wined and dined when they’re being let down easy by their agent.

These singers, though?

There they are, taking it in the face from a panel of three who are at times nothing but callous and cruel.

That takes tremendous courage. And I can imagine so does pulling yourself back up from the depths of disillusion after Simon guts and fillets as if you’re the bottom feeder in the bunch.

I’d rather the rejection letter, thanks.


It’s confession time.

On a few fronts.

First off.

The other day?

I’m loathe to admit it, but the green-eyed monster of envy raked her insidious claws through my psyche and made me bleed.

It wasn’t pretty by any means.

I brought it on myself and I should have known better, but still, it happened and I’m not going to pretend it never happened.

You see, my mother-in-law sent me a STARS calendar because she’d made a generous donation and they’d given her extra…

…you’re rolling your eyes right now, aren’t you?… Thinking, ‘Oh, boy, here she goes again on some wacked out dot-to-dot tangent that may or may not demonstrate a correlation to her title up top’…

Well. You’re right. This is going to be one of those dot to dot kinds of stories, because sometimes things just aren’t as linear as we’d like them to be. Now. Back to my point and I do have one–honest.

So, I’ve got the STARS (Shock Trauma Air Rescue Society) calendar hanging on my office wall and of course, I read January’s story about the poor little girl who’d impaled her palette and then her brain with a chopstick (she’s okay, don’t worry!) and because this particular incident happened near my hometown, I’m looking at the picture of the little girl and her mom and I’m thinking, “Do I know this lady?”

I don’t recognize the mom, but then I read the story again and take better note of the little girl’s last name. It doesn’t take much for me to determine that quite likely, given this little girl’s age and her last name, that I know and went to highschool with her dad (believe me, the towns where I grew up are small–we’re talking two hundred and fifty if you count the cats).

So now I’m thinking about this little girl’s dad, who I didn’t know that well, but he happened to be friends with one of my friends.

Now I lost track of this particular friend years ago. So what does one do in this day and age to find someone?


So I GOOGLED my friend and guess what?

Turns out he’s a columnist for a prominent national newspaper and after the two seconds it takes me to be glad and think, “Cool! Good for him,” something entirely different rolls in and takes over.

Something along the lines of “What makes you think you’ve got what it takes to be published?”


Totally blindsided and there I was…down on myself, green-eyed and snarky.

It was quite the experience as I’m not usually prone to that kind of stuff and I’d like to say I talked myself out of it, but I didn’t. In fact, I stewed and brewed and got worse (and that is not an writer’s euphemism for ate myself sick and drank myself silly, either!)

Luckily, there’s such a thing as mail in this country and it just happened that I was in town to get ours and in it was the SASP that I’d included with my thank you letter to Jessica Alvarez (who you remember had RISING SIN) offering her a chance to look at TRAIL OF REDEMPTION.

And on that SASP was her request for TRAIL.

Not the partial, but the full and I didn’t even send a synopsis! Bless her dear assistant editorial soul, she’s willing to read it because she’s liked my previous work.

Good-bye green eyes, welcome back blue!

So there you have it. My first installment of confessions. Stay tuned for more dirt.

Why I like Jason Smith and Other Reasons to Love the Oilers

small dadSo it was my dad’s birthday a few days ago and though he’s been gone two years now, he’s always in my heart.

Sometimes, a little too much, I think.

For instance, last week I was in a funk and really didn’t feel like writing so I was scrounging around for a diversion.

Ah ha!

Look at the scruffy dog! Look at the new clippers we just bought!

So, yeah. I decided to shave the dog. Loreth tells me she would have done it too, so I don’t feel so bad about not writing, but I do feel bad about the haircut, ’cause did I mention we live in northern Alberta and that it’s winter here?

Yeah. Not so much my most stellar idea. But they tell me the hair will grow back.

However, I digress.

Fast forward to the end of the haircut and I’ve realized that minus the small detail of having four legs, I’ve somehow managed to channel my dad from beyond and the dog now looks exactly like him.

I’m serious.

rio dadEXACTLY like him.

Gone is my dog and instead I’ve got my dad. Silvery hair. Soft gentle eyes. Scrawny neck. Flat head. Bushy eyebrows. Widow’s peak. The whole shebang.

Even the DH thinks so.

So I find myself being extra special nice to the dog now, which is good to a degree, but he’s become rather demanding and now I’ve got to work through the guilt of saying no to my dad/dog.

Sigh. Don’t worry, I know the name of a good therapist.

But I guess you’re wondering what the heck the title is all about, right?

Yeah. Let’s get to that.

jason smith dadJason Smith is the captain of the Edmonton Oilers and he looks just like my dad (NO! NO! Stick with me on this! I promise…it will make sense!)

He doesn’t look like my dad did when he was older (so therefore he doesn’t resemble my dog in the least), but you see, he looks like my dad did when I was a baby.

Even the DH thinks so (are you noticing a trend of overt compliancy here in regards to the DH? Yeah. I just saw it, too. HUH?)

Okay. Back to Jason.

ales hemskySo, Jason looks like my dad did, is rough and tumble like my dad used to be and then there’s Ales Hemsky who is for certain going to be one of the best players in NHL Hockey very soon (my dad hated hockey, by the way) and he’s also whom Jason defended without a split second’s hesitation in last night’s game after a Sabre’s player tried to take out Ales’s knee in a questionable hit. Jason got kicked out for most of the second period for his trouble, but that’s just the kind of player he is.

So. My Dad. The Dog. Jason. And Ales.

All perfect reasons to love the Oilers.

I’m going to go get another cup of coffee now.