It Was Just Asking for It

My in-laws are the kind of people who always get the best gifts for X-Mas.  They even get stocking stuffers right. They make it look effortless, all while I’m stumbling around stores the week before Christmas, pulling random crap off the “As Seen On TV” shelf.

This year, along with smoked almonds, gummies bears,  and assorted yummies, they gave my husband and I each a box of refridgerator* magnets.  He got “A Little Box of Obscenities” and I got “A Little Box of Good Cheer.”

This led to some discussion as to whether there had been a mix-up.  I’m a notorious potty mouth.  I don’t even bother with the usual “mind your elders” bullshit. I drop the f-bomb around my mother and in-laws all the time.  (In my defense, my mother, who likes to act the part of “lady,” is a fan of “Well, fuck it.”)

I am, however, a pessimist.  The glass isn’t just half full.  It’s losing volume, evaporation happenin’ now. A little good cheer could do me some good.

Good cheer and obscenities go together like chocolate and vanilla, so husband and I combined our super-twin powers and made this.

*No matter how many times I write the word, I always misspell “refridgerator.” D’oh! Fuck!

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The Charmed Sphere by Catherine Asaro

With The Charmed Sphere, award winning SF author, Catherine Asaro makes her first attempt at writing a fantasy novel. Uh, literally, it would seem.

This may be a case of where high expectations doom a book. Given Asaro’s reputation, I would have expected something more; something that didn’t read like My First Fantasy Novel.

It starts off well enough, with Chime Headwind, a farmer’s daughter, hiding from a royal entourage. She knows she has mage power and doesn’t want to be recruited into the king’s service. (I still don’t know why she hides from her magic [abilities]. It is explained, but doesn’t make much sense.) She is soon discovered by the Shape-mage mistress of Suncroft. Chime unhappily agrees to accompany the royal party back to Suncroft, where she will hone her magic abilities and…marry the prince. (It is the custom of this country to match the most powerful female mage in the land with the prince.) Along the way to Suncroft she runs away, only to unwittingly encounter her groom-to-be, Muller Dawnfield. (Ugh, these names.) Neither knows who the other is, and this could have made for the beginnings of a cute and sexy story.

Instead, Muller’s royal guards show up, and the story soon moves to Chime’s struggles with mastering shape magic and courtly manners. Muller and Chime’s relationship turns rather tepid in the face of the trite and tedious approach to sex that goes with this kind of fantasy. Especially irritating is the inevitable slut-shaming heaped on Chime, when she and Muller eventually do the nasty, pre-marriage. (To Chime’s credit, she at least isn’t terribly ashamed.)

But the real problem lies with the simplistic characterization of good and evil and…simplistic characterization. The side of good is represented by Chime, Muller, Muller’s cousin Jarid, and Chime’s rival, Iris. All are beautiful and good. And pure. Whatever that means. The kingdom is bright and sunny and cheerful. Mages in this land never use their power for anything harmful. (Except to turn the army into super-soldiers who can more easily slaughter the enemy.)

The main antagonist, Anvil the Forged, is an evil mage who uses his powers to harm others. Get it? “Harm others,” so you know he must be evil. He’s in league with a power-hungry king from a cold and dark country. Because shoveling snow would make anyone E.V.I.L.

Oy. Even modern day Disney is cranking out more complex stories and characterization.

So is Charmed Sphere really bad? As in, “Nothing, not even waterboarding, could make me read another book by this author?” (I.e., like Nicholas Spark’s, The Choice.) No. In fact, I’m giving one of Asaro’s SF novels a try soon.

But it’s not good.

Fans of old time, Disney-esque plot lines, with pure-as-snow protagonists and antagonists who are evil–just because, will enjoy this book. Those who like their stories a good deal edgier, should look elsewhere.

Posted in Book reviews | 1 Comment

White Cat by Holly Black

Is it just me (usually is), or do all of Holly Black’s characters love coffee, including, day old, been sittin’ in the pot, stale coffee? In Black’s books, you can almost count on someone slurkin’ down some nasty, black coffee with zeal.

Black’s Tithe is one of my favorite books.  In particular because of Black’s unflinching depiction of the realities of teenage life.  She doesn’t shy away from drugs, alcohol and violence.

In White Cat, Cassel is the youngest son from a family of Curse Workers.  Curse workers can alter a person’s emotions, memories, and in rare cases, their form. Not surprisingly, curse working has been outlawed. Those who still ply the art tend to gravitate toward less-than-legal vocations. Mobsters, con-artists, etc.

Cassel, however, has no power.  He does, however, have a secret, one which could shatter the normal life he’s worked so hard to maintain.  A few year ago, he killed his best friend, Lila.

But, like old bones, secrets have a way of poking through the surface. Dreams of a white cat and sleepwalking, signal the end of his brief time of normalcy.

While it’s obvious, early on, who, or rather, what Casel is, Black’s engaging style and no-punches pulled approach kept me reading. Black doesn’t burden the story with much exposition.  She presents the world, one much like ours but with Curseworkers, and then gets down to business.  Cassel, as with most of Black’s protagonists, is a young/old man, wise beyond his years. He’s pragmatic, but still quite compassionate.  Despite that, he isn’t my favorite Black character, so White Cat isn’t a keeper.

But I’ll definitely be reading the next book.

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Excuse the Mess

I must have run out of whatever I was smoking, as I’ve come to senses and realized the cutesy, pink template was unreadable and seizure-inducing.  In the midst of trying out different themes….

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The Music of Chaos, Now Available!

The Music of ChaosI spent the weekend on yet another home improvement project.  Some people tithe at their local house of worship.

We tithe at Home Depot and Lowes.

Anyway, come Monday morning, I find that my debut novel, The Music of Chaos is now available from Decadent Publishing.

****

Here’s the blurb:

Regan O’Connell seems to have it all. She has a PhD and a good paying job as a project manager with a consulting company. Unbeknownst to her co-workers, she’s a one hundred and thirty-year-old demi-human, with a magical pedigree that includes vampires and elven royalty.

Harnessing her magical ability has never been easy. Immature by the standards of immortals, she has little-to-no control over the magic that simmers in her blood. For more than a century, she has worked as a secret operative for the vampire syndicate the Grey Brethren. For just as long, she has hidden her magical disability, struggling with one paranormal misadventure after another. Tired of her shenanigans, the Grey Brethren station her in Albuquerque, far out-of-the-way by paranormal standards.

The arrival of a mysterious user of chaotic magic—a world destroying power—spells the end of Regan’s trouble-free existence. Soon after, her vampire employers issue an ultimatum: find and neutralize the chaotic magic user or find a new job. To make matters worse, she has inadvertently started a war and developed a surprising attraction to a human. Sorting the mess out will require a little help from her friends, some growing up, and acceptance that she will never be a practitioner of conventional magic.

*****

It is available from Decadent Publishing and in Kindle format over at Amazon.  You can also get it at Smashwords.  (Hint: It’s about a buck cheaper if you buy it directly from the publisher.)

Posted in Dark Elves, Decadent Publishing, New Mexico, publishing, The Music of Chaos, Urban Fantasy, Vampires | 2 Comments

Like the Hippos in Fantasia, Not

Seriously?  This is fat? I’m referring to the recent uproar over a NY Times critic who took issue with a ballerina who deviated oh-so-slightly from the standard prepubescent girl body type. From where I’m standing, the only way to find fat on this ballerina is with an electron microscope.

Granted, she isn’t the usual willowy, pelvic-bones-threatening-to-burst-through-thin-skin, body type.  But she’s hardly fat.

Of course, if she were the standard scrawny ballerina, some would accuse her of being too thin and projecting unrealistic body standards to young women.

Sheesh.  We women just can’t win, can we?

In unrelated news, I’m amused to note that spammers have so far scrupulously avoided my post about comment spam.  It seems they lack a sense of irony. Heh.

Posted in Humor, Spam I Am, The Crazy is Strong | Comments Off on Like the Hippos in Fantasia, Not

I’m Magical. I Made Food.

This is comic gold.  Especially for dog people.

Packing all of your belongings into a U-Haul and then transporting them across several states is nearly as stressful and futile as trying to run away from lava in swim fins.

Casa de Kirby made the move across this big nation twice.  Our dogs, who shall forever be known as the greatest dogs ever, enjoyed the entire adventure.  Of course they did.  They didn’t have to worry about finding a rental housing with two dogs, one quite large.  They didn’t worry about starting a new job in a strange city.  They weren’t bewildered by strange regional vernacular.  I.e., the practice of calling a pickup truck a “rig.”  Que?

Me?  My ulcers had ulcers.

(Pictured: Our current grey and his birthday present, Mr. Squirrel.)

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Like a Dinosaur, But Stupider

When I grow up, I want to be a paleoartist.  The “when” in that equation being rather nebulous.  My mom and my husband have both been waiting years for any hint of maturity. But, if I were a betting person, I’d won’t lay much money on “soon.”

In the meantime, I get to exercise my artistic talents on guinea hens.  Yeah.  Guinea hens.  During this weekend’s art show, I got a request for a guinea hen crossing sign.  The requester wants the sign as a gift for a friend.

Guinea hens are a small miracle.  As in, it’s a miracle they haven’t gone extinct.

My exposure to guineas has been limited mostly to road encounters.  It’s not unusual to round a corner on our little country road and find your car fender deep in a flock of guineas.

In our little slice of rural semi-suburbia, there’s usually some misguided soul who’s decided that having a flock of mentally retarded birds is just the ticket for dealing with insect pests.   A friend of mine acquire a flock hoping they’d eat all the insects plaguing her garden.

They did just that.  And then they ate her garden and promptly took to roaming around the neighborhood, annoying the neighbors, becoming coyote Happy Meals, and occasionally, road kill.

When I was a kid, we had horses.  Since we lived in the city, we boarded our horses in a pasture on the outskirts of town.  At some point, the owners of the land must have had the usual delusions of pest control and purchased a few guinea hens.  I don’t think the flock lasted more than a few months, quickly becoming the meat du jour for local predators.  But in the meantime, one particular hen loved to sit in the fence.

My horse loved to sneak up on this hen and, with a casual flip of his nose, send the stupid bird flying in the air.  Either this bird loved being turned into a projectile, or,  more likely, was dumber than a bag of hammers, but it returned for more abuse, day after day.

I wonder if guinea hens make good eatin’?

Posted in Humor, Metal art, My art | 1 Comment

Nothing a Little Jack Daniels Won’t Cure

Monday after the Thanksgiving holiday and I’ve got nothin’.  So I figured I’d take a looksee at this blog’s accumulated comment spam.  Most spammers, of course, aren’t even trying.  In the comment approval window I find the usual suspects: links to naughty sites, cheap meds, knockoff Rolexes, etc.  The new trend in comment spam is complimentary gibberish, written apparently by people for whom English is a second language. Just barely.

For example, this bit of word salad, left on a posting about my greyhound.

With thanks for talk about really good informations. Your internet is amazing, (My internet?  I own the internet?  Who knew?) I am satisfied by the details that you simply have on this blog. (You’re satisfied?  Really?  Now I can die happy.) It shows how well you appreciate this subject. (Well, he is my dog.) Bookmarked this page, will appear again for much more. (Uh…Yippee.  I await, with bated breath.)

But the winner, thus far, for most creative is this one:

Hi, What can I take for this horrible heartburn I have? OH MY GOD… [replica watches/link redacted] It feels like the baby has lit my intestines on fire! It is horrible, even tea, water, like when I drink water and burp the water comes back up, it is horrible. The heartburn is the worst, it hurts so bad! What do you girls take for heartburn while pregnant that works for sure? help will be greatly appreciated!!!!

Booze, sweetie.  The really hard stuff.  Yeah.  That’ll do the trick.

(My comments are in moderation.  Anything with even the faintest taint of spam never sees the light of day.)

Posted in Humor, Spam I Am, Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Imponderables

Why is it, when you’re in a huge hurry, every steenkin’ traffic light is red?

On the other hand, if you’ve just spilled something on the passenger seat, or worse yet, all over your lap, and you really need to stop and mop things up…every steenkin’ traffic light is green?

Posted in Humor | Comments Off on Imponderables