So many blogs, so little time

Not only am I addicted to reading blogs, now I'm worried about my blog writing problem. It all starts out innocently, a blog here to talk about writing, another on myspace to keep in touch with my peeps, who hang out there, and then I want a fresh look so why not try out Wordpress?

Yeah, I started a new version of Dangerously Sexy here

Sheesh, I'm beginning to think I can't be trusted with a couple of days off....

Freaky Friday

Just for the women a little something to brighten your Friday. And if you have time to browse there are more delights to be seen here enjoy the pics and let the kids have the candy. Happy Halloween!

Life in the secret garden

Sweet Autumn Clematis, most of the year it's a plain green vine, but then along come October then I remember why I planted it.

Weird Wednesday Stuff

Most people I meet have definite preferences when it comes to what they like for entertainment. A certain type of books, a particular class of music, and certain movies are their definite favorites.

Not me. I'm weird that way. I read across the spectrum of literature, children's stories, to literary fiction, skipping none of the sub-genres between those two. I listen to hip-hop/rap, rockabilly, and opera, plus a whole lot more. Movies, yeah you guessed it, I love all kinds, martial arts, to art house specials.

There are things I'm picky about--food is biggie.

So what are you weird about?

Debut Novel--Forever My Lady by Jeff Rivera

Jeff Rivera's debut novel hits the book stores today! And just for Dangerously Sexy readers Jeff has stopped by to answer a few FAQ. He'll be giving away a copy to a lucky commenter so here's your chance to ask Jeff a question or drop your name into the virtual hat...

So Jeff, what does Forever My Lady really mean to to you as the creator?

To me Forever My Lady is more than a love story, it's a story that hopefully gives readers a glimpse into my life, what I've been through and the people that are close to me how they touched my life. It's a story about everlasting love and heartbreak but it's also about the feeling of longing for someone and wanting them to be who you want them to be even though very clearly they are who they are and will never change. So much went into this story.

How did you hook an agent?

I do everything out of the box. So, I sort of spammed the publishing world not even with a query letter just my excerpt and I was fortunate enough to have quite a few people respond to it. The right person came about at the right time. That's the way it always works.

Your book has been acclaimed by both critics and real readers. How does that feel?

It feels really good to be validated because as a writer, I know this being my first novel you're plagued with self-doubt. You start questioning your abilities. It's only when people give you feedback that you start realizing that "hey" maybe you have something worthy.

How did you keep your spirit intact when you were rejected?

I'm generally a positive person and I think one of things I did was stay away from negative people. There are some great writers out there who were mentors and supportive but there were also writers who (how can I put this best) were infected by what I call the bitter writer disease. These are writers that hang together sometimes in person, sometimes online and all they do is bitch and complain. Those type of people I learned to steer away from. There are too many positive people out there to focus on.

Did you have any input in the book's cover?

I really trust the people at Grand Central and I trust their judgment. I was shocked at the choice at first but I've come to really like it. It'll be interesting to see how people respond to the new cover.


Where cab we get our hands on a copy of Forever My Lady?

You can get a copy at: www.Amazon.com, www.JeffRivera.com or of course, bookstores everywhere. Don't forget to support the indie bookstores too!

Music Monday--Michael Buble's Lost

More romantic music...

Sunday funnies

One Sunday morning, people were in their pews talking while waiting for the service to start. Suddenly, Satan appeared at the front of the church. Everyone started screaming and running for the front entrance, trampling each other in their frantic effort to get away from the evil incarnate.

Soon everyone had exited the church. Except for one elderly gentleman who sat calmly in his pew without moving, seeming oblivious to the fact that God's ultimate enemy stood within striking distance.

Satan walked up to the old man and said, “Don't you know who I am?”

The man replied, “Yep, sure do.”

“Aren't you afraid of me?” Satan asked.

“Nope, sure ain't,” said the old man.

“Don't you realize I can kill you with a word?” the devil asked.

“Don't doubt it for a minute,” returned the man in an even tone.

“Did you know that I could cause you profound and horrifying agony for all eternity?”

“Yep,” the old man replied calmly.

“And you're still not afraid?” Satan asked.

“Nope,” said the man.

More than a little perturbed, Satan asked, “Well, why aren't you afraid of me?”

The man replied calmly, “Been married to your sister for 45 years.”

Six things I love about new stories

1) Finding a tag line that intrigues, expanding that into a story concept--the first rough synopsis.

2) Building new characters,which is the endlessly fascinating process of constructing story people, listening to their voices, learning their secret dreams and fears.

3) Creating a new story world--more construction or, just as satisfying, revisiting and refurbishing a beloved setting

4) Plotting, the fun of weaving the different character's goals, motivations, and conflicts into a new, and hopefully entertaining, tale.

5) Catching the snippets of dialogue, jotting down new twists, and playing with possibilities

6) Organizing the story blocks into a new notebook, new documents, and a new spreadsheet for tracking production.

Of course, the cat sits in, contributing his opinion. So far he's not impressed, but then he is still reading....

Freaky Friday

Last month, I read a book about what men want when it comes to sex. The author did her research well and the number of men who responded to her questionnaire was a more than adequate sample, from a statistical point of view.

If you're interested here's an Amazon link.



Fascinating reading, but maybe not as useful as what women want--particularly in a hero. Personally, I read a wide spectrum of romance and non-romance and there are several different hero flavors I enjoy. The dark tortured guy is definitely on my short list. And I've thought about why that is so appealing. It's a very romantic fantasy--the one woman who can heal his wounded heart.

Some of my all-time favorite romances are either loved or hated depending on the critics preferences. But, I'm thinking the real secret to selling the dark hero is the writer's skill. The star of Lord of Scoundrels, Sebastian Balister is a womanizer, arrogant, and unrepentant about his bad behavior (at least in the beginning). And yet this remains one of the best of loved romance novels of all time, due to the magic of Ms. Chase's skillful prose.



So tell me what are your favorite kind of heroes and, of course, why.

Life in the secret garden

I replanted the deck boxes for fall/winter. This one is white pansies, scotch moss, and varigated Japanese sedge nicely echoing the change leaves of the birch. Underneath it all are fat tulip and hyacinth bulbs.

Weird Wednesday Stuff

For your amusement here's a sampling of the absolutely worthless factoids I learned this week:

Some hummingbirds weigh less than a penny-- what I want to know is how'd they get those little things to stand on the scale?

No piece of square dry paper can be folded more than seven times in half--why would anyone want to fold square dry paper in half more than seven times?

Cat urine glows under a black light--this actually explains a great deal.

How about you, learn anything entertaining last week?

Teaser For Dalila's Choice coming soon!

Unedited excerpt from Dalila's Choice coming sometime in 2009 from New Concepts Publishing.

Belle Amity Compound, Earth 2346 post apocalypse

“Wait child, I would speak to you before you depart,” Mother Marian called.

The petite elder hurried toward Dalila, with her deep blue cloak flapping like restless wings behind her.

Standing on the narrow ladder, which led into the passenger compartment, only Dalila’s head was still visible. She reversed direction, climbing to the outer deck, and then jumping lightly to the ground.

Mother Marian never spoke idly, so Dalila was eager to hear her words of wisdom.

When Dalila drew close, she was shocked by the leader’s appearance. Dark shadows rimmed her pale blue eyes. Smudges marred the normally pristine white collar of her long dress. Her familiar lined face seemed to have grown thinner in just the few days since she’d seen the holy woman.

Mother Marion headed the team of scientists, synthesizers, and magic-wielders, who had been working around the clock to ready her ship for the journey.

As Dalila bowed before the collective’s leader, she made the sign of the Goddess over her head, muttering a ritual blessing. Then the diminutive holy woman tugged her impatiently away from the vessel, which was already humming with an excitement that matched Dalila’s own.
She found a warm smile for the elder. “What is it, mother?”

“I fear for your safety, my child.”

Dalila’s smile faded. But, she spoke lightly. “I understand the hazards of space travel, Mother. Indeed, isn’t that why I was chosen? I am unfit for breeding and therefore expendable.”

Mother Marian peered up at her, fixing her with piercing blue eyes. The power of her gaze had not been dimmed by age. “You understand nothing, disciple. The stasis process is far from perfect. Our most recent tests have only a forty percent successful reanimation rate.”

“May the Goddess smile upon this mission,” Dalila murmured, doing her best to hide the fear that the holy woman’s word had fueled.

“Nothing more I can do about the craft. Listen well, my child. For I have scant time to teach you about the ways of warriors.”

“The old ones, who abandoned Earth?”

“Yes. Now, hold your questions and open your mind or you will arrive on Enyo as empty headed as the newest babe.” Mother Marian said, and then muttered under her breath, “Precious little good will you be at expressing warrior semen.”

Dalila was so shocked, she was certain she’d misunderstood. But a glance at the holy woman’s face convinced her that she’d heard correctly. A wild mixture of dread, fear, and excitement increased her tension.

She’d known she was on a sacred quest to gather the precious seeds of life for the sisterhood. But, this was the first anyone had mentioned harvesting sperm from warriors.

The men who’d fled ancient Earth were legendary figures of evil and aggression. Warriors only respected brute strength. The rumors of life on their new planet were tales used to frighten naughty children.

With a wrenching effort of will, she forced her mind to calm, listening intently to Mother Marian’s instructions.

“Some of the warrior factions of old Earth were blindly aggressive, this much is true. But there were also intelligent men who were both strong and honorable. Without the male scientists contributions we would not have a spacecraft to launch. The sisterhood has merely refined previous designs, adding features, and downsizing the craft.” The holy woman paced as she spoke. Soon she was moving so rapidly that her feet no longer connected with the ground.

“There is more, so much more, that you should know, but our time is short. Do not underestimate the men you seek. They were never the clumsy ogres of myth. It’s been more than two millennia since an Earth woman had congress with a Warrior. They may have learned a thing or two. Trust your instincts. They, along with your training, are your best weapons.”

“Yes, Mother,” she said, wishing there was time for even a few of the thousands of questions crowding her thoughts.

The elder beckoned her closer. She bowed, leaning nearer, and then the holy woman’s gnarled hands smoothed Dalila’s temples, forcing her eyes closed. A kaleidoscope of images poured from Mother Marion into Dalila’s mind, etching whole new banks of data faster than she could process any of it. The rate kept increasing until her conscious mind shut down-- unable to handle the information overload.

Her last coherent awareness was stunned disbelief at the image of a woman pleasuring a man’s sexual organs using her mouth.

Reverend Horton Heat--The Baddest of the Bad

Just love this guy....

Sunday funnies

A guy enters bar carrying an alligator.

He announces to the other patrons, "Here’s a deal for all of you. I'll open this alligator's mouth and place my genitals inside. The gator will close his mouth for one minute, then open it, and I'll remove my package unscathed. If it works, everyone buys me drinks for the rest of the evening."

The crowd enthusiastically agrees.

The guy drops his pants and puts his privates in the gator's mouth. Gator closes mouth. After a tense minute, the guy grabs a beer bottle and bangs the gator on the top of its head. The gator opens wide, and he removes his equipment unscathed.

Everyone buys him drinks.

Then he says: "I'll pay anyone $100 who's willing to give it a try."

After a while, a woman in the back of the bar raises her hand. "I'll give it a try, but only if you promise not to hit me on the head with the beer bottle."

Six things I hate about writing romance

1) Working for myself (I'm not always reasonable)

2) No job security and no two week notices or severance pay

3) No co-workers, just me and my imaginary friends

4) No paid benefit package

5) Long production period--it takes me months to get through a first draft

6) Even longer waiting period to hear on a submission--yes once you're published the wait times decrease, but they're still a long ways from instant communication.

Despite it's allure as a dream job, writing romance has a few drawbacks, especially for someone who needs a regular paycheck. Yes, of course, there are those who make a handsome living from writing. But, it's a pretty select club.

Freaky Friday

When it comes to reading about sex, normally I subscribe to the Mae West school of thinking. "Too much of good thing is...absolutely wonderful."

Recently, I read a book with a bit too much sex. Or perhaps it was the placement of the love scenes. The first half of the story had no sex, other than sexual tension. By the time the couple made love I was more than ready for it to happen. But, once the relationship had been consummated, the author poured it on. Another hundred plus pages of more of the same, and I got a little bored.

The writing was still excellent, but the sex, that was so exciting the first half dozen times, had become predictable. In real life a deepening tender lovemaking experience would never get old. But, here's another area where what is pleasing in fiction and what is pleasing in real life differ. In writing once all is well with the romantic couple, there's little to say worth reading.

In this particular tale, all that kept me turning the last hundred pages was the unresolved suspense. And the suspense plot was not the strongest part of the story.

In the vast and popular sub-genre of romantic suspense there is a wide range of suspense to romance ratio. The best selling titles include a small sub-plot romance, if any. I'm flexible about how much romance versus suspense is in a book. But, the few titles elevated to keeper status have a strong romance element.

If you read romantic suspense, how much romance do want in your thrillers?

Life in the secret garden

Early morning in the front yard with the white asters (Cape Cod is the cultivator) spilling over the lawn. I love white flowers all year round. One of my favorite nurseries is White Flower Farm. But, there's something special about white winter flowers...

Weird Wednesday stuff

It's silly to pretend we have four season in Seattle. We have two--rainy and not so rainy. Real heat and real cold are both anomalies, easily ignored and certainly not in need of ritual or celebration.

Despite the slight difference between rainy and less rainy, I love the changing of seasons. According to my internal calendar mid-October is the beginning of fall-winter, otherwise known as the rainy season. This is time to put the flannel sheets on the beds, change the sofa's cover to deeper jewel tones, redo the deck boxes with winter blooms, dig out sweaters, and change to the red dishes.

Dishes have an appeal that rivals books, although for practical reasons my dish ownership is severely limited. The realities of time, money, and space don't curb my enthusiasm. Different china patterns enchant me for no reason other than their intrinsic beauty. I don't need to actually eat off them to enjoy their presence. I could easily devote a room to tasteful built-in cabinetry designed to showcase a china collection.

But I live in the real world, so I don't collect anything, sadly not even leather bound first editions of the classics or the French impressionists.

Do you collect anything? If not constrained by practical considerations, what would you collect?

New Website and Blog Coming Soon

The new web site will go live some time in the next couple of weeks. It will include a new look for the blog. I don't know what it will look like myself. But, I have faith that it will tasteful and dangerously sexy.

The designer for all this wonderfulness is Karen Rani. You can see examples of her work here

Originally, I'd envisioned just a blog upgrade. But, this is going to be better. The process of working with a visual medium specialist is exciting and challenging--making me think about specifically how to furnish a web home.

When it comes to creating stories, gardens and refurbishing the real life house I'm all about DIY, but when it comes to creating a website...I'd be waiting years if I insisted on doing it myself, plus I'd get no stories written in all those years of studying web design. By the time I acquired the skills, their usefulness would have been lost and forgotten. So, this is a brand new experience--a little like hiring a surrogate mother. The end product being a virtual home, which hopefully is much lower maintenance than a baby.

When it comes to web pages and blogs, which do you prefer--DIY or designer on call?

Music Monday

For Sheila, she'll know why...

Sunday Funnies

Saul is working in his store when he hears a booming voice from above. "Saul, sell your business."

He ignores it.

It goes on for days. "Saul, sell your business for $3 million."

After weeks of this, he relents and sells his store.

The voice says ‘Saul, go to Las Vegas."

He asks why.

"Saul, take the $3 million to Las Vegas."

He obeys, goes to a casino.

The voice says, "Saul , go to the blackjack table and put it down all on one hand."

He hesitates, but knows that he must. He’s dealt an 18. The dealer has a six showing.

"Saul, take a card."

"What? The dealer has--."

"Take a card!"

He tells the dealer to hit him. Saul gets an ace. Nineteen. He breathes easy.

"Saul, take another card."

"What?"

"Take another card!"

He asks for another card. It’s another ace. He has twenty.

"Saul, take another card," the voice commands.

"I have twenty! Saul shouts.

"Take another card," booms the voice.

"Hit me," Saul says.

He gets another ace. Twenty one.

The booming voice says, "Un-fucking-believable!"

Six things I love about writing romance

1) I get paid to think about hot guys

2) Reading romance is a professional obligation

3) No commute

4) Low overhead

5) No dress code

6) Great working conditions

No wonder everyone wants to be a writer. It's darn near a perfect job. There are a couple of negatives. Back with that list next Saturday....

Freaky Friday

Yep, you are in the right place. It’s Freaky Friday and time for a sex blog. But, today I’m going to get serious about it.

The only thing my stories have in common is a strong erotic element, it may not be the main story, but it’s always there. All of my heroes are tall, dark, and dangerously sexy. Every heroine has her own dangerously sexy side, perhaps one she has yet to discover.

Real life people are endlessly complicated and fascinating. Everyone who lives any time at all experiences pain, fear, loss, anger, and unfairness. Too often, the bumps and bruises life hands out make one wary of opening up to another person. Good sex is a lot more about emotional risk and a lot less about body parts. It requires trust, vulnerability, and sensitivity to another person’s feelings. When experience teaches that sex isn’t safe, reclaiming the right to an enjoyable intimate relationship is a daring journey, fraught with peril.

These are the stories I want to write. Books are a safe way for women to begin to explore their sensuality, which is just one of the reasons I write sexy stories.

Life in the secret garden

Here's a closer look at the Mahonia japonica, which is one of my favorite things--especially this time of year. Red stems, blue berries, evergreen, with changing foilage, it really offers a lot in small package (about three by three feet. During Spring, when it blooms, the flowers aren't all that showy and there's no fragrance. But then, Spring has plenty of beauties competing for attention.

Weird Wednesday stuff

It is what I don't know that always gets me in trouble. Self-evident, right? But, what I want to know is how do I get around it?

Research seems like a sensible solution to to all of life's thorny questions. It is no help when I don't know the right questions.

Last year I was busy upgrading the house. One of the big projects was restoring the upstairs flooring. It was a long, messy process, but it's over and the floor is gorgeous.

Before contracting the project, I investigated, finishes, costs, maintenance--in short everything I could think of--it never occurred to me the hardwood floors would require much more frequent cleaning.

They do.

I don't regret my choice, but it would've been nice to know. And I should have thought of it. I knew how much work it was to keep the other hard surface floors clean. Yet, it didn't dawn on me. I blamed traffic patterns and usage for the high maintenance nature of the kitchen, bathrooms, and entryway floors.

The thing is, carpet absorbs an incredible amount of dust--hard surfaces absorb none. Gleaming oak floors are lovely, those same floors covered in dust are not. Very similar to having a car with a really amazing paint job--it shows every speck of dirt.

So what have you learned the hard way?

Teaser for Dangerous Rescue

For your entertainment, an unedited excerpt from Dangerous Rescue, coming soon from New Concepts Publishing. For a close up of the pretty cover go here


The motorcycle escorts peeled off as Regan exited the limo. Ian watched as she and her security guards--a pair of over-sized blonde jocks, whom he’d mentally, nicknamed dumb and dumber--entered the hotel lobby. He hung back, losing sight of the trio after a few seconds. Telling himself it was past time for him to leave.

An overly honed protective instinct impelled him get out of the SUV. Deciding he’d bluff it out if she spotted him, he rushed through the entrance. Rapidly scanning the room for Regan, he caught a glimpse of pink moving toward the elevators. Then a loaded-to-the-hilt luggage cart blocked his view.

Once he’d cleared the obstruction, the pink suit had vanished.

Ignoring the fear chilling the back of his neck, he dropped all pretense of being casual and sprinted for the elevators. The door to number five was almost closed. An extra burst of speed, and his long arm, kept it open. A jab of the call button reversed the direction of the mechanical doors.

His jaw hardened at the sight of Regan alone with an assistant manager, if he were naïve enough to believe the man’s breast pocket pin.

“Seven please.” Ian bared his teeth and pulled up the corners of his mouth in what he hoped looked like a friendly grin for the man standing next to the elevator’s control panel.

“Afternoon ma’am.” He nodded toward Regan.

Her eyes flickered over him so quickly he might have missed it if he hadn’t been glued on hers.

“Good afternoon sir, Mr. Hitman isn’t it?” Her voice retained the phony upper-class accent, her tone was low and even, giving no indication she was upset.

“No, ma’am. I’m afraid you’ve got me confused with someone else. Killzone’s the name.”

So she wasn’t running away with the assistant manager. Ian wondered what the hell had happened to dumb and dumber.

The suspected terrorist punched the button for seven without saying a word. The movement revealed an underarm bulge that hadn’t been visible earlier, ratcheting Ian’s tension even further. He had a gun of his own, but he never drew it unless he was prepared to use it.
He shuddered thinking of the damage a shooting match in the small steel cage could do. He wouldn’t chance it--not with Regan there. He could use his knife, but bloodstains were so hard to get out. He really liked the tie he had on, and the shirt was good--practically new.

He’d have to take him out the old-fashioned way.

He fumbled through his pockets giving an imitation of man looking for something. The elevator doors opened on the seventh floor.

“Damn plastic cards. They never work for me anyway.” Ian opened his wallet, and then extracted his gas card, dropping it into his jacket pocket, hopefully simulating a room key.

On his way out the elevator’s door, Ian deliberately stumbled, bumping into the man. Quickly, he slammed the phony assistant manager’s face into the elevator wall. He followed up with a locked two-handed blow to the back of his neck, putting the bad guy out of commission. He caught the guy’s limp body as he crumpled. While disarming him, and then extracting his wallet, Ian paused to flash Regan a reassuring grin.

The wallet held a high quality fake driver’s license, and a couple of twenties. Ian dropped the billfold and pocketed the gun.

“Killzone’s the name?” Regan arched a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Hey, it worked. It seemed like the simplest way to say message received, princess,” he defended his choice of code name.

“You’re such a guy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. You wouldn’t happen to have cuffs?”

“No.”

“Damn. Me neither,” he admitted regretfully.

Ian stripped off his tie and bound the man’s wrists behind his back. “Good tie,” he muttered.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” The dry tone was vintage Regan, not a trace of princess. It made him grin.

“Thanks,” he said, inordinately pleased by her offer.

Regan reached for the penthouse button. Ian blocked her, shaking his head no. “There’s no way of knowing who’s waiting for us. We’re getting the hell out of here.”

He started to punch in the first floor, and then changed his mind, holding the door open button to keep them stopped. He scanned her prim suit. If they stepped into the lobby with her in that outfit she might as well be wearing a neon headpiece that flashed, Princess here--take me hostage.

“Can you do anything about the princess outfit?”

Regan raised an elegant eyebrow. “Not with the doors open.”

Ian released the button he’d been pressing. The elevator resumed its downward journey. He knew he should offer to turn away. But he wasn’t about to miss a free strip show, starring Regan.

“Get me his jacket,” she ordered.

Ian nudged the terrorist with his shoe. “Sure.”

Roy Orbison--Mean Woman

An oldie but a goodie....

Sunday funnies

Two Men are standing on Top of the Empire State Building looking out at the view.

A third man, a stranger, joins them.

The first man says to the second, "You know, Al, on a good day if a strong wind comes up, you can jump off the ledge here and the wind will hold you up."

Al says, "Get out here! That's a load of malarkey"

The first man says, "No, it's not. It's true. Let me show you"

And sure enough, a strong wind whips up, he jumps off the ledge, and is floating on the breeze, waving at the people inside.

He hops back in, and encourages the stranger to give it a try. The stranger is reluctant but, after a great deal of persuasiveness, decides to give it a go.

The stranger plummets to the ground and dies.

Al turns to his friend and says, "You know, Superman, you can be a real jerk".

Six reasons the third dangerous book isn't done

1) The tasteful editor pointed out that the second dangerous book needed some revisions and they would like to release it this year (yea) so would I kindly get on the changes.

2) I'm finally getting a professional website (yea again) but, this requires time and thought and input from me. What no magic? The process is not over, but I'm really excited about doing it.

3) The weather has been lovely here, there are so many outdoor chores begging for attention that I've not yet planted the fall bulbs or re-done the deck boxes for winter or finished the front border expansion....

4) The house is not immaculate and that bothers me. Besides, I'm running out of clean undies.

5) My daughter's yard isn't done either. It seemed like a good idea at the time to volunteer to landscape for her and it is a great workout.

6) But, the most critical reason is my head can only live in one story at a time (see reason number one). What I'm going to do is put in rough place holder notes where the remaining scenes will bloom and count the first draft done. Then I will spend the next week polishing Dangerous Rescue.

Freakiy Friday

I've been researching. Gotta keep keep it fresh as I mentioned here,

Here's what I've been learning, almost all fetishists are male.

Number one fetish--foot/shoe, they are closely related.

Number two fetish--lingerie, previously worn panties being the most common of the desired objects.

For a true fetishist, the object or body part is required for arousal and climax. To deny such a man his desired fetish is to deny him sex.

To a lesser degree, we all have specific preferences when it comes to desirable members of the opposite sex.

Go ahead and share what you look for in a man or a woman--I won't tell a soul.

Life in the secret garden

No blooms today, just a corner of the garden that pleases me at the moment. The garden, like the rest of real life, is different every day. Carefully planned combinations can and do fail to peak at the right time. The weather seldom cooperates with my wishes. Dogs, moles, and various mysterious ailments all take a toll, and yet on any given day there are still spots of pure pleasure.

The blue powder puffs are dwarf blue fescues, which I transplanted last year. They pouted for months, but finally accepted their new location and perked up. The mahonia is a Japanese cultivator that seeds true, hooray! The greenery between the bronzed mahonia and the blue grass is combination of forget-me-nots, daisies, and columbines, all self-sowers that have been clipped back for winter.

Useless Trivia

Perhaps not entirely useless, depending on how your mind works....

1) A squash ball moving at 150 kilometers per hour has the same impact of a .22 bullet. It's wonder more squash players aren't killed.

2) During the female orgasm, endorphins are released, which are powerful painkillers. So headaches are in fact a bad excuse not to have sex. But then, you already knew that sex was a very good thing.

3) Astronauts get taller when they are in space. I'm assuming this is zero-gravity by product, a different gravity pull presents so many interesting opportunities.

Please add your own bits of fact or fancy...I love trivia.