But It's a Dry Heat

Guest Bloggage: Starla Kaye

Posted on December 8, 2011 by P. Kirby

And now for something I need to do more of…

Giving my fellow scribes a chance at some promotion.

With multiple novels, novellas and and anthologies under her belt, Starla Kaye knows how to bring on the sexy. Her latest release, Cowboys in Charge, is a Christmas anthology chuck full o’ cowboy hawtness. You might say that the cowboy on the cover is a metaphor for the anthology’s theme: the cowboy’s tangled lasso represents the complexities of communication in a relationship. Or … you could just stare at the pretty, pretty cowboy. As Diana Ross might sing, “I want muscles!”

Thanks, Starla, for providing today’s blog!

Men and Women Driving Each Other Crazy by Starla Kaye

I love writing about a strong male hero, especially one who has a soft center he carefully guards. In my new Christmas anthology release from Black Velvet Seductions, Cowboys in Charge, I have seven cowboys who fit this kind of man.

The men around me in real life love their women. Most of them are also Continue reading →

Posted in Guest Blogger | 6 Comments

What’s That White Stuff?

Posted on December 5, 2011 by P. Kirby

This morning at five-thirty, the alarm on my husband’s side of the bed went off and he groggily turned it off. I fell back asleep, only to be awakened by hubby announcing that, “There’s at least four inches of snow!” Then, just like a school age kid, he hurried out to the living room, turned on the tv, and waited for news that his workplace was closed.

A few minutes later, elation turned to bitterness. “Safety first, my ass,” he said. “They only care if we’re safe at work so they don’t get sued. Corporate whores!” His much-hoped for snow day had turned into a pitiful two hour delay.

In the end, he gave up and took the day off

This is where anyone who lives anywhere with a real winter is sneering: “Four inches, that’s not a storm.” True, but this is the desert and deserts are defined by their lack of precipitation, including the frozen kind. Snow around here is an evanescent phenomenon, here today, gone tomorrow, and we New Mexicans know to milk that one day for all it’s worth.

Me, I slogged my way in to work and back home again, successfully negotiating the roads which had become Disney’s Idiots on Ice. There are two variants of snow drivers in New Mexico. The ones who drive so slow that they may as well get out of their cars and walk, and the ones who’s approach is, “Oh, my god, white stuff on my tires! Drive really fast so it doesn’t stick!”

Snow or not, life goes on when you have animals. The horse must be fed; his paddock cleaned. The dog must be walked. When I got home from work, I found that my favorite fleece lined jeans were still wet from the morning walk. I pitched them in the dryer and soon after found a new definition for happiness.

Happiness is putting on a pair of fresh-out-of-the-dryer-warm jeans on a cold day.

Posted in Desert life | Comments Off

Friday Schmaltz

Posted on December 2, 2011 by P. Kirby

The sun is shining.

Yeah, I know. This is New Mexico. It does that. Except the weather geeks have been making much a hue and cry over the impending storm. Fortunately, in my little corner of the desert, the wind didn’t blow as predicted and it was a balmy 29-degrees this morning when I took the greyhound for his morning stroll. The weather geeks were going on about how frigid it was. Really? Because it was 19-degrees last week. My maths aren’t so great, but I’m certain 19 is less than 29.

Friday. My mother is visiting this weekend and the house has never been filthier. My only options are hiring a team of maids or moving.

So I said, “Screw it,” and did some sketching. This one is inspired by a quotation I saw in a catalog. (Oh, there’s another thing–we’re drowning in catalogs. Tis the season.) It’s full of errors, but I find I like my raw sketches better than my finished work. This is Regan (from The Music of Chaos) and Talis (also The Music of Chaos, with a bit part in The Canvas Thief.) Both are well over 100, but … semantics. As always, click image for a larger version.

Posted in Dark Elves, Desert life, My art, New Mexico, The Canvas Thief, The Music of Chaos | Comments Off

Scrambled Brain and Ham

Posted on November 30, 2011 by P. Kirby

It’s done. The art show season for 2011 is o-vah. Finis. No mas. Which leaves me loads of time to … finish painting the dining room. Before Christmas.

I need a holiday from the holidays.

As I write this, it doesn’t have a cover image yet (I’ve seen the prelim, but I don’t know if it’s official), but The Canvas Thief is up for pre-order at Amazon. (Also has the author name listed as “Patricia Kirby,” but that should get fixed soon.)

Anyway…I came across this saying by Louisa May Alcott and decided it was the perfect fit for an old drawing on my hard drive. What would we do without books? Face reality? Shudder. (Click image for larger view.)

Posted in My art, The Canvas Thief, Urban Fantasy | Comments Off

Murder Most Foul

Posted on November 29, 2011 by P. Kirby

I'm not ... all right.

Today, on the very day that my Cyber Monday purchase–two gopher traps–shipped, I find my nemesis in the yard, D.E.A.D, dead. Yes, ding-dong, the wicked rodent’s dead.

Friends know that as a rule, my garden is a welcoming place to wildlife. Heck, this year I even called off hostilities against the paper wasps. (It turns out they are great allies in the war against tomato worms, which, as a rule, I also don’t kill. I just pluck ’em off the plants and chuck ’em over the fence.)

But my garden is my life, in darkest times the bright spot that keeps me going. (And my dark spots are abysmal, think Laurentian Trench.) There is no coexistence with an animal, no matter how cute, that is laying waste to my organic Prozac.

As this is war, I first dug trenches and Continue reading →

Posted in Desert life, Dogs, gardening, Greyhounds, Humor | Comments Off

The King’s Speech

Posted on November 14, 2011 by P. Kirby

Now, speak clearly into the little steering wheel.

Years ago my husband dragged me to see Master and Commander. I sulked in the uncomfortable seat and grumbled, “Stupid, period drama. Ships, bleh.” And then … I loved it. It’s one of my favorite movies.

So, even though the premise held no promise, I tried to watch The King’s Speech with an open mind.

The King’s Speech is no Master and Commander. It’s a well made movie. The acting, particularly by Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham Carter, is excellent. But like many Oscar-winning movies that are dripping with critics’ slobber, I really don’t see the allure.

Prince, soon-to-be King George VI, “Bertie” (Colin Firth) has a problem. He stutters. Since his primary job as royalty, besides consuming enormous financial resources, is to cut ribbons and give speeches at the opening of the newest Wal-Mart, he struggles with his vocation. Yeah, I’m being facetious–Wal-Mart–but it does seem that all he is expected to do is give speeches. And make heirs, which, despite his speech problems, he’s managed handily, producing with his wife, two little princesses. Nothin’ wrong with that part of His Majesty.

Most of Bertie’s time, when not mucking up speeches, is spent moping about mucking up speeches. Seriously. He doesn’t do much else. Unlike other royalty, hopping on a horse and galloping across the countryside after a pack of hounds, to eventually sate royal bloodlust with the rending limb-from-limb of a fox, isn’t on Bertie’s agenda. Maybe it was, but he doesn’t do that in this movie.

His wife, Queen Elizabeth (Carter) gets tired of the angst and hires Lionel Logue (Rush), an eccentric speech therapist. Eccentric because his crazy ideas actually work. At the time, conventional therapy involved having the stutterer hold several marbles in his mouth and speak. “Speak clearly. Enunciate!” berates one doctor. (One of the few times I really pitied Bertie.) Lionel’s irreverent attitude clashes with the stick-up-his-arse prince/king, but of course, eventually the two become fast friends.

Yep. This is buddy movie, sans Seth Rogin, a road trip, or humor involving farts and body parts. (Fuck is dropped with repeatedly with great glee as part of Bertie’s therapy. Fuck is an awesome word; it even cures stuttering.) Instead, Bertie and Lionel work toward their ultimate triumph … a speech.

If your taste runs to period character studies or tales where terribly rich people overcome adversity, then this is a fabulous movie. Me, I’ll stick with something a bit more lowbrow.

But It’s a Dry Heat

Posted in Movies, Worth Watching | Comments Off

Fun with Telemarketers

Posted on November 3, 2011 by P. Kirby

Jesus loves you. I, on the other hand...

I work at a church. Don’t laugh. Okay, laugh. But thus far, god hasn’t smote his ruin upon the unfortunate house of worship for hiring me.

Being a place of worship doesn’t exclude it from getting calls from telemarketers and scammers (the line between the two being [Elrond voice on] “thin.” [Elrond voice off]).

It’s a pity I don’t think quickly on my feet, because imagine the fun I might have. For example, take the call I got last week.

Phone rings, I pick up, say “Good morning,” and clearly identify that this is church. There’s a pause–the telltale sign that this is some kind of telemarketer–and a man shoots a rapid-fire stream of words at me: “Hi, this is Bob Smith. Can I speak with the company owner, the head honcho, the person that makes all the big decisions?”

I pause, taken by the immediate image of an arrogant asshat. He’s twitching with nervous energy and a ten-cup-a-day coffee habit. He’s balding or he’s got a buzz cut. He most certainly is reeking of cologne (it’s a salesman thing). If this were a role playing game, his chief attribute would be +50 Annoying. I hate him instantly.

“They’re not in,” I say in my best robotic monotone, which is code for, “Find something sharp, sit on it and spin until the pointy side erupts from the top of your head.” He asks if there’s a time to reach them, and I mutter something like, “No, they come and go.” Also code for “Find something sharp….” He gives up and rings off.

Now, what I should have said was:
“The ‘head honcho?’ Sure. You can talk to him any time. Just put you hands together and pray.”

Posted in Humor | 2 Comments

Halloween Playlist and Sandy Claws

Posted on October 31, 2011 by P. Kirby

Kidnap the Sandy Claws, lock him up real tight
Throw away the key and then
Turn off all the lights

Kidnap the Sandy Claws, beat him with a stick
Lock him for ninety years, see what makes him tick.

And so it begins…the holiday season. Actually, in your average retail store, Christmas began about a month ago. I’m not a complete Grinch (more like 45% proof), but I’ve lost my childlike wonder with the Christmas holiday. Well, let’s face it, about 90% of that childlike wonder was actually avarice. Kids are greedy little pirates, looking forward to a mighty haul of swag.

But Christmas is fun, after you subtract the shopping, gift wrapping and other work. I still love putting up a tree; sparkly lights and here in New Mexico, luminarias. This year we’ll get to have X-Mas Eve dinner in our new dining room, instead of stuffed like sardines around our tiny kitchen table.

But…there are days, when I wish Oogie Boogie’s henchmen would kidnap the Sandy Claws.

I like Halloween, with its ghosts and ghoulies. It’s a pity I don’t actually have the time to celebrate it properly. The closest I get is by playing my Halloween playlist over and over. (Because I’m twelve.)

Some of the Songs on my Halloween Playlist

“All the Myths are True,” Abney Park; “Before I’m Dead,” Kidney Thieves; “Cry Little Sister,” Gerald McMann; “Dead Man’s Party,” Oingo Boingo; “Ghost Love Score,” Nightwish; “A Gorey Demise,” Creature Feature; “Dragula,” Rob Zombie; “Moon Over Bourbon Street,” Sting; “My Beloved Monster,” Eels; “Paint it Black,” Inkubus Sukkubus; “Rawhead and Bloodybones,” Siouxsie and the Banshees; “Re: Your Brains,” Jonathan Coulter; and “The Undertaker,” Puscifer.

What’s on your Halloween playlist?

Posted in Halloween, Music | Comments Off

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

Posted on October 21, 2011 by P. Kirby

Look, kid. If you don't shut up, I'm gonna strangle you with your tie, skin you and wear you as a Halloween costume.

Yesterday, Netflix vomited Transformers, Dark of the Moon into our mailbox. The reference to regurgitation being appropriate, since after freeing itself of that DVD, I’m sure Netflix felt much better. (Sorry, suckas. It goes back to you today.)

Why was it in our queue? Because the hubby and I are geeks and if it has any element of SF or fantasy, we’re are compelled to watch. Compelled by the power of nerd (and Greyskull/see, “nerds.”). We have the same problem with action flicks. Can’t not watch ’em.

Husband and I plop our butts on the couch, dinner in hand, and fire up the DVD. The movie starts, straightaway, no previews, suggesting that Continue reading →

Posted in Action flicks, Movies, New Mexico | 2 Comments

A Woman’s Perogative

Posted on October 13, 2011 by P. Kirby

The average size for a home in the U.S., as of 2009, was 2700 square feet. Our little casa, at 1200, is a mite shy of average. It, along with a half dozen other houses in the neighborhood, was a builder’s concession to the notion of “affordable housing.”

As home for two humans and one large dog, Casa de Kirby doesn’t need to be a McMansion. Any issues with space are the result of a tendency toward packrat-ism that could easily be cured by a trip to the dump.

One exception. The dining room. Or the lack thereof. Events like Christmas dinner take place in a tiny corner of our tinier kitchen. When everyone is seated, getting stuff out of the fridge requires a hybrid game of Twister and Musical Chairs.

The attached garage, like everything else in Continue reading →

Posted in Home repair, Lessons Learned | 6 Comments