Author: Jonathon

So chipper last night, this morning it feels more like chipper-shredder. Allergies are kicking my butt. It feels like I have a hang-over all over my body, but mostly in my head. God, two years of allergy shots and I still feel this bad occasionally, but it is occasionally and not constantly. Which is vast improvement.
Just got the kiddo off with Grandma to her yearly check-up. Jon and I are off to get allergy shots, I’ll throw my Rio player, and CD player in the back-pack along with the Bose headphones. If the allergies allow me to think, usually when the book’s going this well, it means I can write almost anywhere. We’ll see. Gotta run

Woke up at 6:00 A. M. again. Without an alarm. Woke up with the book clear in my head, and ready to go. There are days when I think a little longingly of dog walkers, nannies, and personal chefs. But I can’t imagine giving that much of my life away to other people. So let the dogs out, make tea, breakfast, get the kid up. Then off to work some mornings I’ve made it by 8:30, if I give up Pip’s morning walk. (He caught an infection, so since he’s been under the weather he hasn’t minded. We’re close to a well Pip, though, so I’ll either have to get up earlier or be at work at 9:00 instead. Thirty minutes to make my dog so happy, not a bad deal.) I’ve had a tremendously productive week. Twelve pages is the least I’ve done, and twenty-eight the most. Very cool.
Usually I have to sort of ease into work in the morning with softer music, but the last few days I’ve been able to start with Seether. Though later in the day today I did get out a musicial, back to 1776, because I really haven’t found a musical for this Anita book. But I think I have found the Christmas music for it. A VERY SCARY SOLSTICE from the H.P.Lovecraft Historical Society. It takes traditional carols and some modern ones and redoes them to Lovecraft themes. Some sample song titles are; I’m Dreaming of a Dead City, Here Comes Yog-Sothoth, Little Rare Book Room, Away in a Madhouse, It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Fish-Men. You get the idea. The album combines two of my most favorite holidays, Christmas and Halloween. I have always loved either scary Christmas stuff, or cute Halloween stuff, and if you can combine it so that it’s cute, creepy, disturbing, and fun, well, you can’t beat it with a stick.
Good night and pleasant dreams.

Went to the Renaissance Faire yesterday. It was, as always, a great deal of fun. Trinity wore the royal purple dress that her grandmother made her. We added a purple plumed musketeer hat at Ren Boots, and a wonderful toy dragon from Bast’s Gifts made of felt and glitter and some kind of curving wire inside it so the dragon can perch on the wrist or shoulder. The shopping is always one of the highlights of any Renn Faire. You actually don’t have to give into the shopping bug to have fun, though. You can watch knights on horse back joust, or not on horse back hack at each other, all in good fun. There is a quest that the kids can do, so that at the end of the day they can be presented to the King and Queen and be made Princesses and Knights, respectively. Trinity loved that last year. This year, she was more interested in trying the boffer swords. Padded foam swords that they let the kids try out, with a referee, also a child. It was very cool. The little girl who was doing the instructing was very serious about her job. Trinity won her match, handily, using mostly the point, and good lunging skills. She was declared the winner. Handed her sword back, and came skipping up to me with a big smile, saying, “I killed her!” That’s my daughter.
There are shows galore from an ariel act, to fire eating, belly dancing, singing pirates, plays mostly farce and comedy. There was a demonstration by the World Bird Sanctuary demonstrating falconry. Pony and camel rides. There were lamas to pet, and an Irish Wolf Hound almost as big as the lama. The baby geese piping in their enclosure was a very cheerful sound. I’d forgotten how much I like the sound of goslings.
Darla and Jack came with us, along with their son Jason, and grandson Eric. Eric wasn’t all that impressed with the faire because he rubbed sun screen into his eyes within moments of getting to the faire. Not a happy toddler. They ended up having to call the day early because he just never got back to his usual happy self.
We saw one little baby under six months in a kilt fast asleep in his father’s arms, who was also wearing a kilt. Very cute.
Lots of costumes. Lots and lots of people in costumes, both the people who were part of the shows and the parade of characters and just visitors. You could buy (or rent) a full outfit for yourself and join the fun. As Trin did. Our friend Greg, in from Texas, dressed as a peasant, because nothing else would fit in his carry on bag. He does beautiful costumes. The black leather musketeer outfit he wore to the Kansas City Renn Faire was to die for.
None of the rest of us dressed up. I find most Renn outfits a little warm for St. Louis in the summer. Beautiful, but either too warm, or they remind me all over again why I am glad that women’s fashion has moved on a bit. Lovely outfits, quite beautiful some of them, but not practical. I guess, really, women’s formal wear hasn’t changed all that much. Beautiful, but it’s still not very practical.
Richard went with us, as did Andrew. Andrew is six feet five inches tall, not a small guy, but I swear, every time we took our eyes off of him, he vanished. I don’t know how he does it, but he can disappear in plain sight better than almost anyone I know. How does he do it? Charles’s theory is that every time Andrew stands still he just blends in with the trees. As good a theory as any.
If you were at the Romantic Times Convention you met our friend Charles. He was the brunette, the strawberry blond was my husband. Apparently there was some confusion about that.
Rett MacPhearson and her family were supposed to come with us but due to a family emergency they could not come. She and her immediate family are fine, but they did not get to go to the Renn Faire with us this year. Hopefully next year. Rett is one of my few friends that has children around Trinity’s age. Most of my friend’s children are teenagers or older. And once some of Jonathon’s friends marry, they’ll be starting at the other extreme with babies. I guess Trinity is just meant to be the only child when we go on trips. Just as our group outings seem heavily weighted to men. No matter how many people we try to invite, it always seems that more guys are able to go than ladies. One would think that the Universe is trying to tell me something… But what?
One of the things we missed was Aaron Williams of Nodwick and PS238 fame. He is going to be at one of the art booths next weekend. Jonathon was a bit bummed, because he really likes those two comics. I like them as well, especially PS238. Its a comic about superpowered kids going to an elementary school just for them, hidden under a normal school. Its as if the major superheroes have had super-children and this is the school for them. Its very fun.
Only one more weekend for the Faire, so if you want to go, go today or next weekend.

It is as if 23 years of my life cried out and were suddenly silenced.
I’m not sure if I can ever watch Star Wars (of any kind) ever again.

I ate breakfast with a Hercules fork, as in the Disney movie. Because we forgot to run the dishwasher last night before bed. You know you’re low on silverware when you’re hunting up the Disney and Seseme Street stuff in the back of the drawer. Dishes are washing as I type this. We managed to have a hot, cooked breakfast so all is right with the world. So to speak.
I’d set my goal that one of us would blog something every day, I think we’ll scale that goal down to five days a week. That’s goal enough, I think. Besides I’m not sure what to blog, frankly.
The last time I talked about a friend visiting us from out of town, a male friend, some imaginative fans speculated sexually about what we were doing, or going to do with a very dear friend of ours. I have not told him, nor will I. It would have hurt his feelings terribly, and shocked him. So the one or two people that said it, if what you wanted was to curtail what appears here in this blog, it worked. I don’t know. Sometimes I just don’t understand people. I don’t understand being mean just to be mean. It never makes me feel better to make others feel worse. I take no joy in the suffering of other people, but apparently some out there do.
So do I talk here of trivialities, forks and breakfast, and leave out any personal details for fear that someone will be cruel. No. I guess I’d already decided, no. For all you descent human beings out there. For all you people who are truly fans, or friends, or just nice, this blog is for you guys. Not for the crabby, mean-spirited, dirty-minded minority. If I let a few ugly comments stop me or limit me, then they win. They don’t win. Never let the bastards get you down.
So, here goes. Our friend Richard is finally back from Italy. Trinity was so excited when we picked him up at the airport that she was like this cute little limpet attached to his arm. She was heartbroken that he had to go home to his folks house. Why couldn’t he stay at our house? We explained that his parents and sisters hadn’t seen him in six months either, and they missed him just like she missed him. It really didn’t carry much weight with Trinity, she’s ten so her missing him counted more to her. I couldn’t blame her. We’d all missed him. Though he did scout Milan for us and come back with lists of restaurants and sights that we might want to see when we go to Italy this fall. For those who don’t know Jon and I are doing a book tour of Italy this fall. It will be the first foreign book tour ever. It will also be my longest ever airplane flight. AAAH! Not looking forward to that part. But if I can do the flight to Italy and hold it together than it raises hope for longer flights later. Maybe plane rides are like lifting weights, you just have to work up to it. Maybe. And no, before someone gets onto the internet and says that Richard went over to Italy to scout for us. Not true. He went over because he has an Italian girlfriend. A much better reason to visit than business.

Waiting for tea to boil before I go up stairs. Must have more tea. I’m running a low grade fever and have been for a day or so. I thought I was simply depressed and finally getting weepy about my grandmother’s death. Nope, fever. I was sick. I was actually a little relieved. First, it meant I could finally give up and lay on the couch covered in dogs, watch some videos and veg, rather than trying to force myself to keep working when nothing was coming. When you’re relieved that your sick so you can give yourself permission to rest, it means I need a vacation. But I don’t see that happening anytime soon.
Where Jon and I want to go is England, but the thought of putting my phobic little behind on a plane for that long right now, is just not doable. I’m holding it together with the whole grieving process. Worked through the sheer being pissed part, or as much as I ever work through anger. I tend to hold onto anger. I’m learning to let go, but not my best thing. But as I peel away the layers of all that confusing emotion, it’s hard. And that’s all I’ll say about that. I know there are blogs out there that just spill their emotional guts, but if that’s what you want, look elsewhere. If you want to see how ugly my mind gets read one of my books. My personal stuff is personal. Or as personal as being a semi-public figure can let it be.
On the upside to all this emotional confusion I’ve come up with a book idea with an emphasis on Jason. I’d original thought it would be one of the novel-lites, ideas that didn’t fit into the main books, but were things I wanted to write. The novel-lites seem perfect for things like Sunday dinner with Richard’s folks, or a holiday for Nathaniel like he never had as a child. But Jason, the character, had a point. He has been around longer than some of the main guys, like Micah and Nathaniel. Jason didn’t want a novel-lite; he wanted a novel. A novel for him. Who am I to argue when a character comes to life like that? We’ll get to see Jason’s family, and just making notes for it let me know more about where he came from than I’d ever known before. The novel-lites seem to have freed me up to explore some of the characters in new ways. Always good thirteen books into a series. By the way, guys, do not get on the inter net and say that I’m doing a book from Jason’s point of view. I am not. But as Obsidian Butterfly was Edward’s book, so this one will be Jason’s. Anita will go out of town with him on his family business. And it will go horribly wrong, or it would be a novel-lite and not a novel.
The Jason book will either be Anita 14, or taking Anita home to meet her family for thanksgiving will be 14, and Jason maybe 15 or 16. Some things that will be happening in the current book, Danse Macabre will help decide how close I want to put Anita’s family visit to this book. I’d planned on going home to see Anita’s family for the first time in book 14, but with my grandmother’s recent death, it may raise too many issues for me. Anita’s family and mine are not the same, but Anita’s emotions can impact mine, and vice versa. I don’t want my grief getting in the way of her meeting her family on stage for the first time. So maybe go meet Jason’s family, give Anita and me a little emotional distance. Right now a little emotional distance sounds pretty good.

We’ve been running short on sleep for days. I am one of those unfortunates that needs eight and a half hours sleep every night to really feel good. I have so not been getting it. This morning I woke up and felt refreshed. Why? Because it was 8:30 and I’d managed ten whole hours of sleep. It felt so good. Trinity is with her father this weekend, so no scampering of little feet. The dogs were a little unhappy, but they were good sports about it. It is an absolutely beautiful day. The sun is shining, it’s warm but not broiling. Though it has the feel to it that around noon might not be time for a walk in the sun. Mad dogs and Englishmen, you know.
I’ve been doing okay, but this morning I feel better than I have in awhile energy wise. Anyone who says things like, you can sleep when you’re dead, or when you’re thirty, just doesn’t understand that sleep is where the body and mind repair itself. It’s where we heal. It’s why lack of sleep has been a method of torture and interrogation for centuries. Don’t torture yourself, if you can help it. Life is hard, it’ll torture you enough on it’s own. Pleasant dreams.

Are we the only ones that find mornings this hard? My grandmother seemed to make mornings effortlessly. Of course, she woke at 5 A. M. every day. So by the time she got me up at a 6:30, she’d had an hour and a half to get her ducks in a row. Jon and I are so not getting up at 5 A. M. Just not happening. So our mornings are like most people that I know . . . frantic. But we’ve managed to fix real breakfast for the last two weeks. That was a new goal. Jon and I decided that we were going to get up early enough to have the kiddo have a cooked breakfast before school every morning. We cheated a little this morning, because she had blueberry muffins that we’d cooked yesterday morning. The three of us can’t eat a dozen muffins, so fresh muffins last two days, usually. Unless they go for afternoon snacky bits. Trinity loves blueberry muffins. Fresh baked anyway. If it’s a store bought muffin sometimes she only eats the blueberries out of it.
What really topped the morning schedule scramble this morning was that it stormed last night. I knew it had, but apparently I was the only one who realized how much it had rained. My family slept through it. I am the lightest sleeper in the house. I’ve always been the lightest sleeper in the house going back to childhood. Never know when someone might be sneaking up on you, gotta stay alert. Anyway, the rain turned the back yard into a morass. Jon had to wash the dogs off in the back bathroom while I did breakfast. Jon and I just didn’t think what the rain would mean since the part of the yard next to the house is still all dirt. They’re regrading and smoothing things out today. Supposedly the new brick patio will be started Monday. Why a new patio? One whoever did it the first time did a bad job, and the brick and mortar was disintergrating. Then the old sewer line that dated back to the late 1940s had to be replaced, and guess what, the line went right through the patio. So for many reasons a new patio is needed. But the back yard looks pretty desolate. It’s been really hard on Phouka since she is almost completely blind now. There is rock and cement pieces, huge dirt mounds. It’s a maze for the dogs and people that can see, so we’ve been carrying her down and back.
We turned a large tread track into a path through it. I kept joking that I felt like I was taking the trail down to the water hole. One morning I was narrating our trek in that nature program voice, “As we make our way down the narrow dirt path towards the water hole. We are on constant alert for maurauding lions, and the occasional leopard . . .” Jon grabbed me from behind at that point, which made me scream like a girl. Then he laughed his ass off, and I laughed too. He apologized, and said, “I just couldn’t help myself.” I’ll put him infront from now own. I guess what I really have to watch out for in the morning is maurauding husbands.
Anyway, that’s some of the highlights about why the morning was frantic. There were some other adventures like the chocolate crossoints that rose in the fridge overnight into one big Frankenstien mass, but that’s a blog for another day.

If you have any interest in beautiful antiquities, ancient American cultural, or learning things about your own country’s history that you probably didn’t know run, do not walk, to the St. Louis Art museum. The exhibit is Hero, Hawk, and Open Hand, which are three of the most common motifs on the pottery, carvings, metal work, of this amazing exhibit. One of the neatest things about it for me as a writer is that I set my fairies in the Cahokia mounds which is included in this exhibit as part of the history and where some of the artwork and ceremonial items were found. I have books on the Cahokia mounds, pictures of items, but there’s nothing like seeing them face to face. As I learn more about the sight and the culture, I realize that there is another story to be set around Cahokia in the future. Far future for me when Merry and her men are living their happy ever after ending. I would love to include more native American, or ancient American culture and myth in the Anita series, but I ran into a stumbling block when I was researching for the book OBSIDIAN BUTTERFLY. Most of the published information for the pueblo Indians that have much detail are in dispute. Many of the early writings contain what are considered secret and, or scared, knowledge that they shared with the early anthropologists and historians out of friendship. There was no expectation that the ceremonies that were shared would ever be published for public consumption. So many of the most detailed and useful books are controversial. I ran into people that treated me as if my interest in their culture, history, and religion, was suspect. I was not Native of any flavor to this country, so since it wasn’t my ethnic group, it was not mine to use in fiction. I gave up on using the research in a book because I did not wish to offend anyone. The history of the Native peoples in this country is confusing and dark enough without me wading into it. If anyone can think of a way around this maze of confusing views, and hurt feelings, and the absolute right of the Native American people to keep what is sacred to them sacred, and still allow me to somehow use it in fiction without pissing lots of people off, I would love to hear it.