Why I love romance books.

I'm a romance reader.  I know we get mocked and poked fun at, but I also know I'm not in a minority.  There are millions of people who read romance books.  Even some men (and I know one of them!).
I started reading romance the summer I was in California.  Prior to it, I was something of a voracious reader.  I read spooky RL Stine books as an adolescent.  I always filled my Book-It card for free pizzas at Pizza Hut.  I never got into the girly-ish books like Sweet Valley High, I didn't read classics like Jane Eyre and I've never read any of the Harry Potter books.

I read romance.  I love to read romance.  I started with Elizabeth Lowell which was, as a teenager, an eye-opener since some of her books are pretty steamy.  I moved on to a Harlequin series--every month, I received 4 books.  I devoured them.  They definitely weren't long enough for me to really get caught up in a story.
Then I discovered Nora Roberts.  She's a master storyteller.  I've since collected almost every book she's ever written, including the never-to-be-republished Promise Me Tomorrow.
From Nora, my horizons continued to expand.  And I'm an addict.

Romance always ends with a Happily Ever After.  Before that happens, it's been known to cause a few tears, a few laughs, and lots of sighs.  There's almost no subject that's been untouched by romance.  In the course of all my reading, I've learned about archeology, the music business, art, restaurant management and a plethora of other subjects.  There's always something new to learn.
The genre is constantly being stereotyped:  women who read it have their heads in the clouds, they have unrealistic views of relationships and sex and they don't have enough intellect to read real writing.
I'm sure I could hunt down study after study that breaks all those stereotypes.  Readers of romance have happier marriages, better sex lives, understand the difference between fiction and real life, etc.
Personally, I know my vocabulary has been expanded by some of the terminology I picked up from reading books.  I know what to expect from my relationship with the Mister.  After being married for 10 years, and reading romance for 15, I think I can say that what happens in books isn't what I'd like from him.
And every single time I pick up a new book from a favorite author, I know at least one guarantee is bound to be met--a happy ending.
When life is shitty, when work has you so stressed out you're smoking 3 cigarettes at once, when family and drama is making you want to run far, far away, and the news station is reporting this that and the other depressing news, you know without a doubt you can pick up a romance, escape for a bit, and know things will end up ok.  The characters may not be real, but if the writer has done his or her job, you believe they are, and you believe the ending they're left with--and that's at least one thing you can always look forward to, and find a bit of satisfaction from.
Not a bad deal.

Big Baby

When I was a kid, I was a big baby.  As I was in actuality my Mom's baby, my tendency was to be spoiled and get my way.  This is something I freely admit.
I've somehow managed to survive to adulthood in spite of that fact.

As a big baby who got her way, when I was sick, I was especially spoiled.
And when my tonsils were swollen and my throat was sore and the evil doctor talked about having my tonsils out and I cried to Mom that I didn't wanna have surgery, she relented.  Mom wasn't a sucker, I promise.  She just hated it when I cried.

So it is now, at the age of 30, that I still have my tonsils.  And they're infected.  Not just swollen, but infected.  And I regret being a big baby.  I'm beginning to believe that my suspicion of living the way that was portrayed in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is the best way to do it.  Or something like that.

Now, some pics of the Big Baby (and various other people who put up with her):

I have dimples.  It's a curse.

This is my first attempt at being a femme fatale.  I think I pulled it off pretty well, considering I still have baby fat.

My cousins, K & J.  I think K was considering drowning me?  Or just washing my hair.
BTW, why do people insist on taking pics of kids in the bathtub?

Confused what to do with my left hand.  Guess I settled on scratching my butt.

Cousin K.  Wish I could hug her like this right now.

Cousin J.  His son looks almost identical to him, minus the glasses.

He still makes these faces.

Prancing Princess.

Christmas present.  Gummy smile.

Me & one of my favorite people of all time--my granddad.  Still miss him.

The three stooges.  I think we were told to look silly.  "Silly" for me meant unenthused, apparently.

Who needs kids?

In yet another example of my "who needs kids when you've got dogs (& cats)?" philosophy....

Yesterday morning I was really tired.  After replacing all the switches, I guess I needed some extra sleep.  Or something like that.
So I'm clinging to sleep.  I'm thoroughly enjoying my sleep.  I'm relishing the comatose state.  When I become aware of somebody pawing me.  Or kneading me, to be more exact.  No idea why, but Smudge was on the bed with me.  Usually she's happy just to get on the bed and curl up on the covers.  But yesterday morning, she decided to try to make a bed of me under the covers.  She's using her front paws on me like I'm a pillow she's going to knead into submission. She must've seen me sleeping and decided the only way she could enjoy her sleep as much as I was enjoying mine was to make her bed on me.
This, of course, bothers Lily.  She still likes to chew on Smudge.  In fact now that I think about it, it's probably her fault Smudge was on the bed with me--she likely chased the cat there.  Since the bed is one place Lily is not allowed to be on, the wily cat took refuge there.
As I'm becoming aware of the cat pushing on me with her little, pinpoint paws, I'm also lucky enough to hear Lily woofing at the cat.  And putting her front paws up on the bed, then bouncing back off.  Then back up, woof, down.  She was basically bouncing off the side of the bed every few seconds, woofing intermittently, pacing from one side of the bed to the other, while the cat gleefully "neener neener'd" her from atop me.
How much I love my sleep can only be obvious from this example.  While all this is going on, I'm drowsing lightly enough to emphatically tell Lily to go away.  I don't bother bugging the cat because I know if I knock her off me, she'll get cranky and jump off the bed and then her and Lily will begin the chase again.
Somehow, Lily manages to calm herself enough or I'm simply tired enough that I manage to slide back into sleep.  At some point later when I wake up, the cat is sleeping on the dresser and Lily's sleeping on her bed.

A recap:  in the past week I've cleaned up poo, puke, and furry messes.  I've been jerked from sleep by a sick dog in the middle of the night.  I've had to stop one dog from picking on the other.  I've dispensed medicine and been pestered while sleeping in, as well as making chicken & rice for the sensitive baby.
They may not be bipedal, but they're kids nonetheless.

swap switches

I got a bee in my bonnet (they're baaaaack) and decided that we needed to change all the light switches in the house this weekend.  The original toggle switches were starting to pop here & there, the Mister replaced a couple, but since more were popping and I wanted some flat switches, we changed them.
This is not a small chore.
I think we had a total of 28 switches to change, including a couple of ceiling fan controls.  Out of these, the Mister took care of 7 switches, leaving the rest for me.  I love projects and had fun, kind of, doing this.  I especially liked getting to use the power drill and getting to show off my handy work.  My fingers are raw now, but at least I can avoid using them with the new fancy switches.
I may need a toolbelt.  I'm practically a licensed contractor now.

Single switch swap

New switch added

In place

Faceplate on

Three switch swap

The one on the far left is a 4-way switch, which means it controls the lights that 2 other switches control, too

Loose toggles

More wires to deal with

New switches

In place

Face plate on

Light switch and fan control before

Light switch and fan control after

28 switches, 17 face plates (there's a couple missing in this pic).  The messy table is chaos caused by the

Middle switch is also a fan control--now when we turn on the fan, it automatically goes to the favorite speed

Rough few days

The past few days have been icky in our home.
When I took the dogs for a walk Tuesday morning to the park, I didn't think it would cause any problems, but hindsight's 20/20 and all that....

Later that day, Lily was sick.  She threw up a couple of times.  I didn't think much of it because, well, sometimes dogs just have bile or something icky to get rid of.
Wednesday was calm.
Thursday she was sick again.  And Amber was scratching herself raw.  Tufts of hair appeared here and there as she scratched them off her belly.  Lily got sick again.
We called the vet, who told us to maybe feed Lily some chicken & rice and see if that settled her system or not.  And we could give Amber some Benadryl for her itches.
The Mister went off to the store for some chicken, I gave Amber a Benadryl, and the evening progressed calmly enough.  Lily thoroughly enjoyed her chicken & rice, we shaved Amber's belly so we could rub some cream on it (her belly is such a soft fuzz now!) and soon enough the Mister headed to bed.

A few minutes go by, and I'm shutting everything down, I notice our Kissing Gourami (Pinky) kissing a fish.  Of not the same species.
Well shiiiiiiit.
One of our little sharks (they don't have teeth, they're not carnivorous, no idea why they're called sharks) was laying against the intake for the filter.  Still alive.  Being "kissed" to death by Pinky.
I sprung into action--I'm channeling a superhero, ok?--and netted the little shark.  He was swimming upside down.  I googled that and most results suggested it was a swim bladder problem, caused by constipation.  So I kept him "quarantined" in the net overnight, sure the problem would resolve itself overnight.  And off to bed I went....

Only to be woken up at 4 AM to "shit!!" from the Mister.  Amber was throwing up.  And apparently had been at it for a bit, based on spots on the carpet.  He got up to clean up, make sure she was ok, and move out to the living room so she wouldn't be sick on the carpet anymore.  Lily felt guilty apparently, as she ran to her kennel as soon as the door opened.  She still doesn't know we don't get mad at them for being sick, unlike peeing in the house.

Since the Mister went to the living room, and didn't want Amber going back into the bedroom, that meant closing the door.  If I'm in the bedroom and Lily's out, she whines.  If we're both in, she whines.  I guess she has separation issues from both me and Amber.  So I joined the Mister on the couch (yay for sectionals!) and no more sick happened.
But the fish was dead when I woke up.  Damn it.
Amber went to the vet yesterday, where it was decided she likely got sick from the Benadryl, and now she's on antibiotics.
Got home, fed Lily more chicken and rice, which she scarfed down so fast it made her sick.  Again.
Out the door we go only to discover the cat had been sick as well.  The only critters not sick in our house are the Mister & me!
We're keeping everyone inside as much as possible because it's possible the heat is making the furkids sick.  Hallelujah for air conditioning.  And hardwood floors.  And the carpet cleaning I'm getting later this week.

the dirty

There are perils to living on an undeveloped block in an incomplete subdivision.  While I certainly enjoy the lack of neighbors, and their houses cutting into my view of the Bridgers, there are drawbacks to living thus.

There's dust.  Oh holy hell, is there dust.  It's not so bad in the winter, when everything's covered in white.  But come summer, the outside fields seem to come into my house.  They join the multitude of Golden Retriever fur clumps and have a little party on the floor.  In corners and under tables.  Right before my very eyes, it seems.

No matter how much I brush Amber, no matter how hard I try to keep the doors closed as much as possible, the outside is in.  And it's a pain in the ass to clean.  Every other day the Swiffer comes out to corral the floors into some order--and what looks to be a third Golden.  I wonder if I collected the fur a couple of times and used it as stuffing in a blanket, could it possibly replace goose down?  It's light, fluffy, abundant and fur.  Fur is used to keep critters warm.  I may be onto something here....

Not only is it on the floor, it somehow manages to take over the kitchen bar, dining table, and other flat surfaces--dressers, entertainment center, washer & dryer.  Dust. Is. Everywhere!  I can't escape it.  I need at least 6 hours notice before someone comes over so I can clean some more.  It doesn't matter if I cleaned last week or this morning, I can't get away from the dirty.

Sometimes I wish I could make everything waterproof and hose down the inside of the house on a regular basis.  Build the house on an angle so all the water & dirt follows a natural gravity and gets the hell out of my house.  I may be onto something here....

On a walk

It's almost fall here.  The temperature doesn't say so, but the grass does.  It's gone from vibrant, lush green to drab, crunchy straw.  The park's bug quota has dropped, thankfully.  Lots of water fowl in the ponds and dogs on the trails.  Amber and Lily are just happy to run through the long grass and feel free.  Their joy is contagious.  Walking by myself no longer holds any appeal--it's not nearly as giddy as when they run along in front of me, dip in the pond, sniff every new smell and look back at me occasionally to make sure I'm along for the ride.

On today's walk a new scent was mixed with the smell of pond, grass and trees.  Smoke is in the air.  After a long, wet spring, I was sure fire season would skip us again this year.  However, days and weeks of heat have dried out everything that was damp.  The area is likely to light up soon or just become covered in a thick blanket of smoke from other fires in the region.

I know we live in something of a suburbia bubble.  The town in which we live is growing with new families, old houses are being renovated and re-appreciated.  There are no "scary" neighborhoods I'd avoid.  The only people I try to steer clear of are tourists, if only because I'm likely to growl at them for passing along the word of how wonderful this place is.

It's so wonderful here that people come from other states to build their homes or second homes in the wildland-urban interface.  They love the feel of living in the wild...until the wildfires come.  Without the proper precautions, all they love about the wilderness becomes something to fear.  There isn't enough space between the trees and their house and it can all go up in smoke so quickly.
Suburbia may be a place of scorn and disgust for some, but at least I can feel a little reassured that my house, and neighborhood, isn't in a wild place it doesn't belong.

How I miss my MINI

I haven't driven in over a week.  It's killing me.  It's one thing to think about not having a car, it's a whole different story actually not having one.  The garage is empty, my right foot is twitchy and I had a dream last night of driving.  My new car isn't even being put together yet.  October, hurry up already!

An investment in being comfy

I had mixed feelings about this whole thing, and was actually looking into having solar panels installed to make myself feel less guilty.  Unfortunately, solar panels are ridonculously expensive and the payback in that investment would take for.ev.er.
So last summer we said no to solar panels.  And this year, I caved in to a central air conditioning unit.  It's an investment in the house, I know, and it'll be super duper to not sweat while sitting on the couch.  I have seen no other houses nearby with central air.  It's a very big luxury, way up here in the great white north.  In order to nullify my guilt, we didn't just get central air, we got a heat pump.  Now we'll save loads on heating in the winter, too.  hooray!
I'd post pics of the unit and the furnace, but really, who gives a shit?  Just imagine me lounging with a smile on my face.
We can finally get rid of the cabana boy who hand fed me grapes while fanning me with a palm frond.  I never really liked his banana hammock anyway.

Clicky the linky!

The view from the top of the Beartooth Mountains

Since blogger & facebook both shrunk my panoramic to a barely recognizable size, I had to go with this website so it can be viewed it all it's epic glory.  Enjoy!