Showering with the Neighbor...

Back in my younger days, I had an adventure or two. One night after all the kids were in bed, my friend J and I went down to the local drugstore where the school supplies were on sale. It was early September, a nice warm night. We planned to be gone only about an hour.

When we finished our shopping and returned to her car, we discovered the battery was dead. The store closed right after we checked out so we found ourselves in an empty parking lot. Across the road was a Seven-Eleven so we walked over there to use the phone and buy a soda.

My husband was at work, so she called hers. We had a bet riding on what her husband's reaction would be--and I won so she bought the soda. This was back in the day when we practically lived on Tab. So we took our sodas and went back to the car, sat up on the hood and waited for C (her husband) to arrive.

In a little while he showed up in faded jeans and moccasins. After a brief discussion, he hooked up the battery cables and went to start his truck. Just as the engine turned over, I backed away from the car and that was a life-saving move. The battery exploded, spewing battery acid all over me. But because I'd backed away--and because I wore thick coke bottle glasses--it wasn't nearly bad as it could have been.

C leaped out of his truck and grabbed my Tab, pouring it all over me. Then he grabbed my friend's Tab and poured that all over me.

And then he ripped my shirt off.

In the parking lot.

Good job I was wearing a bra because he didn't have on a shirt to offer me.

We all piled in the truck and went home. All the way, J is still shaking because of the close call, and C is telling me all the stuff I need to do as soon as I get home so I can wash the battery acid off. We parked in his driveway, relieved to be home and shakily climbed out of the truck.

Evidently, he decided that I might not follow his instructions closely enough because he marched me inside his house, wrestled me into the shower with him and proceeded to scrub me down. In the midst of it all D, his sixteen year old son wandered in.

"Whatcha doin' Daddy?"

"Takin' a shower with Anny!"

"Doesn't she have a shower at her house?"

"What would be the fun of that?"

When C determined I was clean enough, J provided a heavy bathrobe and some hot tea. And sometime around midnight, I finally made it home. Later inspection proved that my jeans were full of holes. Ditto the bra and my glass lenses were pitted. There were tiny burns all over my face. But overall, I survived it all pretty well.

And that's how I ended up taking a shower with my neighbor...

anny

PS! Happy Birthday to my baby, who turns 31 today! I love ya BABY!

Looking for Lunch

About ninety percent of a digital author's promotion is done online. We spend a lot of time writing blogs, keeping up our websites, facebook, myspace, and twittering. In our interactions we meet all sorts of people--including the not so nice--the stalkers.

The unpalatable truth is we are all at risk. There are hunters out there looking for lunch.

Yet there are writers who are oblivious to the threat. They post pictures of their homes, post their addresses and phone numbers, list their vacation itineraries, discuss personal business on their blogs, and even post pictures of their cars (complete with license plates visible). I've come to the conclusion that they simply do not understand how far reaching the Internet influence is.

I'm continually amazed at what I find when I do research queries. When I google myself, I find comments I posted on other blogs over two years ago. Once that "enter" button is pressed, the information is floating around out there forever.

There is a fine line between the public persona and the private one. And when that line is crossed, the danger immediately increases exponentially. Crossing that line puts that writer on the lunch menu.

Don't become the tiger's lunch.

anny

Go to bed!

Heh. In the years since I had small children, I've forgotten all the reasons kids can come up with for avoiding bedtime. There's the old standby, "I need to go to the bathroom." And the follow-up corollary, "I need a drink."

But there my grandchildren have such fertile minds. They come up with a host of thing my own children never thought of.

"I'm too hot."
"I'm too cold."
"I forgot to kiss Poppy goodnight."
"I want to talk to Mommy (or Daddy)."
"My feet itch."
"I'm hungry."
"I can't find my dolly."
"I want a story."
"I need to go to the bathroom--again."

Eventually, they fall asleep in between thinking up new reasons to get out of bed. And Nanna fosters that notion by dragging their butts out of bed early in the morning.

Monday night they were bouncing off the walls, impossible to corral, so they didn't fall asleep until midnight. Tuesday morning, I dragged them out of bed at 9:30 AM and kept them running until 9:30 PM. I noticed they ran out of reasons to pop out of bed pretty quickly.

Today we'll go swimming and have a bit more healthy exercise. I've also noticed that I haven't had trouble sleeping since they came to visit. I'm too darned tired to move. I believe I've discovered the cure for insomnia.

anny

Goat Tales and Ducks and Donkeys

Yesterday we spent the day at a farm with a petting zoo. So here are a few shots from our day out. Above is a picture of a huge turkey.

T with the goats. The big one was quite a pushy fellow as you can see.
T with the donkey she fell in love with. If we could have, she would have gladly taken the donkey home. I felt we already had enough asses at home.
D enjoying the shade at the pavilion while waiting for her root beer float. And to her joy, her sister followed that up with a decadent cherry Italian ice--jumbo size.
Neighbor (and chauffeur) Jane and T feeding the goats and for their generosity they received a thick coating of goat spit on their hands. Fortunately we had a package of wipes handy.
Jane with D feeding the goats. D was enchanted by the goats. She ended up feeding the goats three of the little prepared containers of feed you can buy from a dispenser.
Encounter with the goats. When they realized she had food, they followed her around, every where she went.
This farm is also a nursery. The colors were glorious and everything was in bloom. We had a great day.

All three "kids" and Nanna had a great time.

anny

Open doors and oddities

Because it's summer in Maryland, we have the air conditioning on. We don't normally have to deal with loss of the AC due to open doors or windows but this week our granddaughters are staying with us and since there is no AC at their house, they're not used to closed doors and windows.

I've lost count of the times I've reminded the younger one especially that the door has to be closed because the AC is on. Some days the pollen counts aren't too high and I will flick off the AC and open the doors and windows, enjoying the breath of fresh air in the apartment, but other days, the outside air is just too bad for me to breathe. Then every door and window in the apartment are shut up as tight as possible and the AC is kicking in high gear.

When I ask the little one why the door is open, she sends me a baffled look and says, "Because I'm looking outside."

I confess that I'm just as baffled because I don't see the difference between looking through a window and screen or just looking through the screen. Why open the door?

That's not the only thing I find baffling. Why is it necessary to pace from one end of the apartment to the other like a tiger on speed when talking on the telephone? Why is it impossible to sit or stand still? This is a spreading phenomenon I've noticed more and more recently and I wonder at the root cause for pacing.

Then there's the necessity to scream while playing outside. There's no problem with wondering where they are. The entire neighborhood knows that they're outside playing because of the screaming. It must been a good thing. Every time they talk to their parents, they tell them they're having so much fun playing outside.

Probably the one that really gets me as an adult is the total impossibility to sit still. Legs wiggle, ankles jiggle, fingers twitch, and there's an entire symphony of snaps, pops, impromptu dance steps and swaying butts. Just watching makes me tired.

That's a terrible way to start a new week.

anny

Caterday, Caterday...

Have a great weekend!

anny

The Swimsuit Wiggle

There are a lot of things I love about swimming. The sunlight, the sparkling water, the absolute weightlessness of floating in the pool. Then there are the things I don't love.

Bathing suits. Bathing suits for the zaftig woman are...limited. When you find one that fits, you grab it immediately. Almost all of them have stretchy underpinnings that help you suck in the gut. And that's wonderful when you're pulling it on over your hills and valleys when the suit is bone dry.

But occasionally, you have to make that emergency trip to the ladies room. Obviously, the suit has to go. And the trip down to the knees is pretty easy. However, the return trip requires what I call the Swimsuit Wiggle.

First you pull the suit up as high as it will go. Then you gather it up in your hands (one hand on each side) and tug while wiggling your tush (and most of the rest of you). It's roughly like trying to put on a wet girdle.

It wouldn't be bad if you had room to maneuver, but if you recall the reason for taking off the suit in the first place, you'll also realize that you're most likely standing in a tiny stall with zero room for movement. So while you're wiggling and jiggling and tugging on a darned suit that's sticking to your skin like it was superglued on, you're also whacking your elbows on the walls... the toilet paper holder... the door... and hoping that you don't slip on the wet floor and end up spreadeagled on the toilet.

For some ungodly reason, the bathroom/shower room is freezing--even in the height of summer. Goosebumps ripple over your jiggly curves giving the Swimsuit Wiggle another dimension.

Eventually, you either end up with the suit slithered in place--or you call for help. I seriously considered calling for my granddaughter to come and help me dress and that would have been the final humiliation. But just as I was almost ready to give up, the suit let go of its iron grip on my cellulite and snapped into place like a rubber band.

Dignity almost intact, I returned to the pool determined to never ever go swimming again after drinking an entire bottle of water!

anny

Excellent beach reading!!! Lonestar Lycan by Regina Carlysle is available today. This is wonderful. Don't miss it!

She came to dusty west Texas to bury the dead. But one look from Joe’s smoldering eyes made Quinn Harlow grow wet and needy. The cowboy was too big, too sexy, too everything, and more man than she’d ever had before. Though she was just a visitor, her heart begged her to stay and find her destiny with him on these desolate plains.

Joe McKinnon, alpha of the Wolf Creek pack, takes one look at his destined mate and knows he’ll have his hands full dealing with the sassy female. A single glance has his cock going hard. One touch has him willing to move mountains to claim her. He knows it won’t be easy to tame the woman who holds his future in her hands.

Reader Advisory: Includes a scintillating M/F/M ménage scene. Enjoy!