Love and anger

Temperature: 10/50 degrees and galeforce winds

Eating: see below

Drinking: such a sore throat I'm concentrating on hot beverages

Watching: Finnish Ismo Leikola win the first ever Funniest Person in the World competition. Also just watched Syria - Faces of War, Prix Europa 2014 winner in the Best Current Affairs Program category. Faces of War follows Finnish photojournalist Niklas Meltio to Syria where he's been documenting the war since 2012. I raise my hat and glass to you, Mr. Meltio. And if you're the praying kind, dearest denizen, put in a good word for him for me. He has lost dozens of colleagues in that conflict alone.

Listening: feeding the melancholia that follows the arrival of fall with the beautiful baritone of Matt Berninger

Reading: How We Learn by Benedict Carey

Writing: some unfinished business messing with my writing mojo. Not complaining or explaining, just stating a fact, a debilitating fact, but I'm working on it, one day and word at a time. Plans I had don't work anymore, and it's getting harder and harder to not feel defeated or deflated by recent events. It's a matter of trust. Principles. And I know I shouldn't go there and I shouldn't say things like that but you know what? Screw that. Facing facts is the road to both wisdom and freedom. And I do like my freedom. And I do looove my principles. And I sure as hell don't take kindly to being jerked around.

Feeling: the anniversary of my maternal grandfather's death is drawing near and I'm getting ready to lose him all over again. There's a fine line between sweet remembrance and rehashing the past past a point where the memories become hurtful not healing. You can actually reinforce a trauma by reliving it one time too many, by stamping the memory so firmly in your psyche you end up worse off than when you started your personal purge so take care. I don't want to forget him. Not what he meant to me, not what he taught me, not how losing him made me feel. I loved him. I still love him. And I know he loved me, too. I miss him. I miss you. The talks. The teasing. The somber moments. The fun. I won't forget. How could I ever forget.

Nothing gold can stay

Temperature: June was cold, July was hot and August was rainy. September? We'll see, won't we. We can keep arguing about what is normal but climate change is a fact. And things are getting worse instead of fixed.

Eating: an ugly ass but oh so fresh whatever-greens-I-could-find-plus-some-cottage-cheese salad. Heavy lunches put me to sleep.

Drinking: green tea with honey to ward off the flu in the family. Totally works. Does too!

Watching: my firstborn grow right past me. So I'm not the tallest building on the block but come on, he was a baby three minutes ago!

Listening: to Bebel Gilberto's Tudo

Reading: something that read out loud, sotto voce, would put you to sleep

Writing: something that read out loud, sotto voce, should make you forget about sleep

Feeling: Love, so much love I can't give to those it belongs to because they're gone. You want it?

Northward

Temperature: a sunny, no, cloudy, no, sunny, cloudy, make up your mind already -4/25 degrees

Eating: just had grilled halloumi salad for lunch

Drinking: gallons of green tea with tons of honey to nip this flu in the bud, the influenza was quite enough, thank you very much

Watching: Nature's balancing act. We had two days of skiing and two weeks of skating all winter, we did spring gardening just the other week, now we suddenly have more snow than we had Dec/Jan/Feb combined. WTH?

Listening: to Elbow.

Reading: loads of centenarian Tove Jansson to the wee ones who'll still sit still and listen. (She's not just for kids, hint hint. Oh and you just have to visit Helsinki this spring/summer and go see this.)

Writing: quoting (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow): The spring came suddenly, bursting upon the world as a child bursts into a room, with a laugh and a shout and hands full of flowers. And to my family, friends and fellow earthlings below Mother Earth's waist: Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. (Albert Camus)

Feeling: Looking out the window, neither one of the above is true, but I've caught whiffs in the air, I've touched proof in the ground, seen timid bugs and drowsy bees. Spring is a warm wind away.

Jeanne d'Arctique

Temperature: a sunny -15/5 (we had some 20 sunny hrs in December. In Dec 2012? 24 minutes.)

Eating: as long as it's heated, anything goes

Drinking: as long as it's heated, anything goes

Watching: travel dreams, like every other night

Listening: to Hubby using power tools. It's the new season of our personal Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. Oh, I'll do my share.

Reading: what needs to be read

Writing: what needs to be written

Feeling: Of winter's lifeless world each tree

Now seems a perfect part; 

Yet each one holds summer's secret

Deep down within its heart. 

~Charles G. Stater

I dreamed of Africa

Temperature: a bleak 0/32 degrees

Eating: is it too early to start baking Christmas cookies? Just for refresher training purposes, of course. And maybe just a little for that sweet and spicy dough.

Drinking: årets glöggar sont arrivés! (Wittgenstein said the limits of our language are the limits of our world. I've found that to be true, so, sweetie darlings: To broaden your horizons, learn a foreign language. If you want to delve deeper into a country and its culture, learn the language.)

Watching: Frances Ha and L'écume des jours, as should you, dearest denizens, if you want to laugh cry cringe sigh

Listening: to the Treme soundtracks

Reading: Chuck Norris has browsed the entire Internet. Twice. Ha! I'm on my third round. (If you don't know where to look, you won't find it. Finally reached for the phone. As I should have done two rounds ago.)

Writing: translating

Feeling: Always be yourself. Unless you can be Kira Salak. Then always be Kira Salak.

Written on the wind

Temperature: a sunny 20/68 degrees

Eating: trying to perfect the art of smushi, aprés le Royal Café of Copenhagen

Drinking: hmm, what's the perfect smushi companion? Aquavit? Hate it. Beer? This ain't your average smørrebrød. I'm going with C, champagne. There's a champagne for every food and occasion. Yes. I have smushi and champagne for lunch all the time. Not. Just messing around making a mess in the kitchen planning a tasty weekend treat. Shh. It's a surprise.

Watching: in the mood for something massive, dramatic, melodramatic, painting-with-picturish. Luhrmann or Malick. Sirk?

Listening: like I said, in the mood for something massive, dramatic, melodramatic, wall-of-soundesque. 30 Seconds to Mars? “Honest to God, I will break your heart / Tear you to pieces and rip you apart.”  

And dancing to Jessie J! It's all in the hips, sweetie darlings. Press yours to mine, look me in the eye, lemme take the lead, and let go. “If this is a dream, won't open my eyes / Am I asleep? No, I'm alive.”

Reading: something so good, it almost made me stop writing. You know, “This is it. Nothing to add, nothing to subtract. This is perfection.” (Not available in English. Sorry. Ooh, would looove to translate it. Would the mastery somehow magically rub off on me by association, do you think?)

Writing: just tossed I won't say how many Ks worth of words for obstruction of story.

Feeling: energized by the summer. No living thing thrives without warmth and light. OK, maybe some deep-sea creature. Ocean's daughters? Not so much.

In the eye of the storm

Temperature: a gusty 15/59 degrees

Eating: berries from the garden. Such a dry summer it ain't much of a crop. Sure, it's raining now.

Drinking: more coffee in a minute, that thunder and lightning kept me up half the night!

Watching: Before Midnight, ASAP

Listening: to Concha Buika

Reading: Sarah McCarry's All Our Pretty Songs as soon as my copy arrives

Writing: something I hope will make a difference

Feeling: raw about leaves fallen off the family tree. Still. Always?

Another year

Temperature: a sunny and rainy 20/68 degrees

Eating: a death by chocolate kind of ice-cream

Drinking: some coffee in a minute

Watching: over the kids as they run in, "It's raining!", and right back out, "It stopped raining!"

Listening: to The Black Keys' El Camino

Reading: through my favorite Latam recipes

Writing: a menu for my birthday next Friday, a Friday!, now doesn't that just beg and bleed for a party?

Feeling: like the ringmaster of a three-ring circus. That's summer for ya. Or me, to be precise.

The war of the words

Temperature: 12.5/54.5

Eating: at some point, sure

Drinking: Why do you keep asking that? I do not have a drinking problem. I have no problem whatsoever having a drink on occasion.

Watching: Rock the Ballet later today!!

Listening: Eels: Wonderful,Glorious

Reading: Graeme Thomson: Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush

Writing: I can't tell you. I'm sorry. (But I miss you. More than I thought I would.)

Feeling: professional pride

The Ides of March

Temperature: an unseasonable -15/5 degrees; this ain't funny

Eating: all done

Drinking: coffee to wake up, tea to keep warm

Watching: some northern lights later today, mehopes

Listening: to Biffy Clyro

Reading: Rolf Dobelli's The Art of Thinking Clearly

Writing: all manner of stuff

Feeling: a wee bit weary

Expatriate games

Temperature: A sunny I don't care what degrees because the sun!

Eating: Just had lunch, thanks.

Drinking: Hmm, no.

Watching: Fry's Planet Word.

Listening: It's Black Tie Rave day (not that I'm going, but if I left now would I make it?) so what do you think?



Reading: About a very tempting offer. Those bastards. Just when you think you're out...they try to pull you back in.

Writing: Blog posts on the F word for March 8, a Very Important date if you're lady. Or a gentleman. Or a human being.

Feeling: A desperate need for light and the outdoors. Hurry, spring!

Any dream will do

We have a winner! If you took part in my Lucky 13 XXX-mas giveaway, Santa's sexy helper may have something naughty yet nice waiting for you... Go check it out!

We're getting ready to start celebrating in earnest up here on top of the world. Christmas Eve is reserved for Santa, who visits most every family. (How does he do it? For one, he lives close by. The rest is Christmas magic, I guess.) Eve evening is also when we open gifts, so there's no waiting for Christmas Day, which is reserved for baby J. Both gents have a day of their own and everybody's happy. Except those who hate both gents and all that they represent. They're never happy. Or any fun. Boxing Day, in turn, is when we meet up with friends and/or family we didn't get to see on Christmas Eve or Day.

A full schedule but a fun one. Good food and good times with loved ones. Sis-in-law's family is visiting with the in-law's so the kids get to play with their cousins. My sister sent her love from roasting Rio and my mind goes back to the Christmases spent in the tropics. Then I look outside where it's a winter wonderland and think how life is a strange thing. And how to be an artist maybe you shouldn't have a family or even friends, pets or even houseplants, a past or even a future, nothing but time to indulge your passion, but would that be the life or even a life worth living, and how sometimes no amount of time is enough and how sometimes time runs out and how sometimes there's nothing you can do about it, about things, about anything.

My mind also wanders ahead, to things to come, and how you should always have something to look forward to, however small. As long as it makes you happy, as long as it's something you know you'll enjoy, anything goes. Hang on to those, sweetie darlings, and hang on to your dreams. I hope you don't get everything you wanted this Christmas, or ever, because that's the day you stop dreaming.

Happy holidays, dearest denizens, wherever you are.

Under the North Star

Temperature: -6/21 degrees

Eating: egg noodles with chili pepper and sesame seed sauce

Drinking: kefir (that sauce was as hot as the cook!)

Watching: The Story of Film: An Odyssey (directed and narrated by Mark Cousins)

Listening: to Bat For Lashes

Reading: Christmas cards

Writing: yes, as Dita, too, promise!

Feeling: I plead the 5th

Once upon a December

So. December. It will be magic again. But first things first. Finished NaNoWriMo or took part in Movemeber? Congratulations! You may look a little, hmmm, disheveled, but I bet you feel great. I still feel out of sorts. And never ever try to self-diagnose. Just the other day, Google gave me lymphoma, and when there's been cancer in the family, all kinds of malignant possibilities come to mind. But enough about that since nothing is certain either way. On with the show.

What have I been up to then? Not growing a lady tickler, that's for sure. I did have a project with an end-of-month (Nov) deadline, so writing, creatively, had to take a backseat, which is a drag since WIP and I were getting along swimmingly. Now, with the holidays closing in, it's a race against time to get more words on screen and paper. (Yes, I still write on actual paper on occasion. Good for the brain, too, practicing those fine motor skills.)

In other news, winter is here! To stay? We'll see. Fall was rainy and gray to the max so I welcome snow with open albeit tired arms, moving it around is hard work, and while the spirit is willing, the body feels oddly weak at the moment. (Crap. I said no more on that. But it troubles me, sweetie darlings.) My sweet escape to Barcelona feels like a dream but then I remind myself that it really happened, I was there, the sun still exists and one day it will shine on top of world again even if our face is turned away from her for the time being.

In yet more news, many of us at the 69 Shades blog will host a giveaway to celebrate the holiday season. Lots of books up for grabs, that much I know, so bring a friend, spread the word and make sure you stop by regularly for gifts of the smutty kind! I'm up on the 8th, as usual. It's my wedding anniversary weekend, but I'll work it out one way or the other.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm having lunch with Hubby then going back to a discussion my characters were having. His friend is trying to talk some sense into him because she thinks she knows what he should do. He knows she's right. But if he goes through with it...the second he gets what he wants, he has to leave it behind. Hmmm. Hell of a conundrum.

Let me take you to Rio

Temperature: an unseasonably balmy 14/57 degrees

Eating: chicken tikka masala

Drinking: all in good time, sweetie darlings, all in good time

Watching: A day in Rio de Janeiro (see below), a gem Lynn Viehl, Paperback Writer, posted on her nonpareil blog on Friday. That sunrise in sepia...there's nothing like it anywhere in the world.

Listening: to some samba batucada

Reading: Run the Risk by Lori Foster

Writing: down an idea, yet another book I'll probably never have time to write

Feeling: the first flu of the season coming my way, oh go away!

A day in Rio De Janeiro from Joe Simon Films on Vimeo.
 

Nightcrawling

Temperature: 10/50 degrees

Eating: had the most amazing salad fresh from the vegetable garden

Drinking: I'm training for...this thing, so laying off the sauce for the time being. Ok, maybe a sip on release day. But just a sip.

Watching: a documentary on the making of Rio (not the computer-animated movie but... Anybody?)

Listening: see above; what a blast from the past

Reading: catching up on some professional literature, gah

Writing: thoughts on travel and the best agency out there, going live on Thursday

Feeling: a bit calmer. But just a bit.

Winter is coming

We've been saving up for a winter vacation so this summer, we decided to go on a staycation, an inexpensive, laid-back way to spend two weeks, right? Wrong. We've been running around like mad, meeting up with people in amusement parks, water parks, ballparks, park this and that, no free parking, no free time, no kidding. It hasn't been cheap and it hasn't always been rest and relaxation.

So why not just stay put? I know. But this is Scandinavia with its four seasons, and fall is just around the corner. Better enjoy summer and those attractions while we can. Not that it hasn't been fun, don't get me wrong. Some of the stuff we've been doing, some of the places we've been visiting, don't work so well when it's cold. Some aren't open at all. Plus I've been captain of this ship all June and July, so it's wonderful having Hubby with me from dusk till dawn and the whole family together the rest of the day. (Hear a but yet?)

But. Perpetual Pleasure went through edits. Fast. Clean manuscript, good job, thank you very much. My editor tweaked my blurb some, here's your release date, congratulations, your book is about to come out! Which makes me pretty damn proud of and pleased with myself. So what's the problem? I'm supposed to be on vacation! Something the whole family has waited for all summer long. I promised myself I would focus on family and friends, family and friends, only. They deserve it. I've earned it. And where's my head at?

Release day. (Publish or perish!) Promo. (Post or perish!!) Social media presence, or, in my case, absence. (Promo or perish!!!) All the things I should be doing that I'm not doing because I'm on vacation, feeling torn, failing family, failing friends, failing my publisher, colleagues, career, doing a half-assed job of everything, feeling guilty about the fun I'm having because I should be working, feeling guilty about every thought I spare on work because that's not what I'm supposed to be thinking at all.

(And then there's this other thing, a related thing, that has been keeping me up at night because of the things I've been seeing and hearing and experiencing for myself, but more on that some other time, ok? It's complicated.)

My kids don't seem to notice okay my oldest has, but Hubby sees and he listens and he understands. Next week, life will resume normal programming and, oddly enough, Hubby and I will have more time for each other since I work from home and he works the oddest of hours. (We've had a total of two nights all to ourselves this summer. I miss him. Not the father of my children; my husband.) 

And maybe working from home is not the problem, maybe staycationing is. Same chores and errands as usual, the desk that reminds you you have work to do. I know I'll feel differently in the winter, I always do. That's why we opt for a Far Far Away vacay as often as we can afford one. No desk. No dishes. The sun, the sea, the sand. Books to read. And when no one is looking, maybe a book to write as well.

'Til the cops come knockin'

Temperature: a cloudy 17.5/63.5 degrees

Eating: in a minute

Drinking: not in a while, thanks

Watching: nothing in particular

Listening: to the wind in the trees

Reading: the million emails in my inbox

Writing: a blog post

Feeling: Wilde or Winfrey or Whoever was right. You can have it all. Just not all at once.

Fourth of July, or, just another day at the office

How are you, dearest denizens? Happy campers, mehopes! I felt a bit like death warmed over after Midsummer. Way too little sleep plus a cold will do that to you, but I burn brighter every day.

I'm still waiting on edits for Perpetual Pleasure, so no news to relate regarding The Book. I've been working at the oddest hours but such is summer, and I've been doing a lot of thinking, one of my favorite pastimes. I've been waiting for someone to accuse erotic romance authors of cannibalizing and cashing in on That Book, which, all things considered, would be funny as hell. (It has come to pass, sweetie darlings. Take it away, Jaid Black!)

I've been wondering about the male authors who openly label women as a mystery they could never write about. That's like saying they don't know what it's like to be human. Maybe they don't know, they have, after all, openly declared they have a very narrow understanding of what constitutes humanity. And I've been thinking how cool it was that the Mayor of Helsinki flew the rainbow flag in front of City Hall on Saturday as a sign of support and to protest against the protesters and haters, and what a narrow view of what constitutes a human those haters have.

And I've been trying to decide, Astrid Lindgren or Tove Jansson, so I've read both women, women who have a deep understanding of what it's like to be human. Or animal. Or any living thing, really. And I've been enjoying the white nights and riding my bike, bushwhacking in the forest (our everyman's right) and what a great sense of humor my kids have. And it's too bad it's not warmer and if this turns out to be one of those summers that never was that's even worse but waiting and whining won't change the forecast, now will it?

What else? Yes. On Saturday, family Dita leaves for southern Sweden for a visit with my sis-in-law. On Sunday, I'm set to post at the 69 Shades blog, and I do have a little something prepared to kick off your work week and keep the juices flowing. So. Don't make me look bad now. Go check out that post every time you need a stretching break, m'kay? M'kay. Enjoy your July, wherever you are.

P.S. Let it be known that as of a while ago, apart from personal photos, I've bought and paid for all the images I post, and I credit the stock photos I've downloaded for free because a) I can't talk against digital piracy one day and infringe on the rights of others the next, and b) the best way to support your favorite authors and other artists is to buy their work. So become a patron. It will cost you a fraction of what you paid for those shoes. Seriously.

The ringmaster

Temperature: a windy 15/59 degrees; what's the holdup, summer?

Eating: just had some very nice Chinese, xièxie

Drinking: Cafe Pilão for dessert

Watching: the kids play garden Yatzy

Listening: to Melody Gardot's The Absence

Reading: what's new at the Khan Academy

Writing: a contemporary Romantica

Feeling: it's Take Your Kids To Work Day. Every day. Oh well.