Monday Morning Catch-up

So much stuff. Just all sorts of odds and ends, loose flappers hanging out there after the culinary exercise of yesterday.

I got to bed later than I should have last night - nearly 10:30 - so I'm just on the narrow edge of being tired. Not really tired, just almost, aware of it.

There's no good reason for that, but hubby seemed a bit testy when I was thinking of going upstairs. Our cat, Sam, got restless at about nine o'clock and started crawling all over me. It's his normal, 'Mom, I'm tired. Can you put me to bed now?' routine so I got up to put him to bed.

'Where are you going?'

'I'm putting Sam to bed.'

'No you're not. You're going upstairs to go play on that damned computer.'

Apparently he didn't see that 'damned computer' was closed and sitting on the coffee table while I had a cat and his blanket in my arms.

'No, I'm putting the cat to bed and I'll be back.'

'Why now? It's only nine-fifteen.'

'I have a cat crawling all over me, sticking his nose in my face. He wants to go to bed. I'll be back when I'm done.'

'Good night.' in snotty tone.

Given that, it was easier to stay up than have our evening devolve into any more of a stupid argument so, despite the fact that I would have preferred to go to bed, I got Sam set up and went back downstairs.

An hour later, when I think it's safe, I get up to go to bed and he says, 'I didn't expect you to stay up this late. Nine-thirty would have been okay.'

Uh... Cat-to-bed took fifteen minutes so I would have come back downstairs, said 'good night' and had an argument if I had gone to bed at nine-thirty. Sometimes I just can't win for losing.

So I went up to bed. Got to sleep and woke up a little later because I was too hot. Blankets off, overhead fan on, reposition and fall asleep again. Then, at 12:38, some idiot in the condo complex across the parkway decided it was a brilliant time to light off left-over fireworks. Not firecrackers. Fireworks. The kind that fly up into the sky and burst, like a child's version of the real grup fireworks that go off after baseball games, for Fourth of July, etc.

Hubby came in to make sure that the fireworks hadn't woken me by saying, 'I hope they didn't wake you up.'

So many answers to that, but I bit my tongue and muttered something. I'm not even sure what, but he left and I got back to sleep. For a little while, before I got too hot (I had pulled the blankets back over me at some point).

Hot - cold - hot - cold all night.

Needless to say, the past eight hours haven't been ideal and I'm starting my Monday off a little tired. It'll be okay, but I could do with more sleep. Maybe tonight? Maybe not. It's supposed to warm up this week, into the 90's tomorrow through Friday. Oh yay. Hot days and warm nights and not a lot of good sleep.

Geez. What a whiner I am this morning!

Oh, and here's another one for you. You know that story I've been talking about for the past few days? The one with all the adverbs that's in need of a good edit?

Well, I've gotten up to chapter seven and have been taking out almost all the adverbs that I've found. I also took out all that excess back-story that isn't relevant to this one except as set-up. Now, instead of being at 119,059 words, I'm up to 119,700 something. I'm not even sure how that happened but there  I am and, at this point, I've boxed myself into a corner.

See, my MC is married and miserable in it. She's written a book about which her husband sneers and basically says 'it's crap'. Still, the book is good enough that it's gotten attention. First, on local morning programs, then L.A. and New York and, from there, she's invited to an interview in London. What she doesn't know is that the host of the London program has a trick up her sleeve.

Along with my MC, this morning show host has invited the man upon whom my MC has modeled the main male character in her book. It's the kind of prank this woman likes to play on her guests. Because the man is successful, high-profile, wealthy and famous, there's going to be traction around the viewers' breakfast tables, and friction when the trick is played, and great ratings.

My MC is introduced and the interview starts. They're in the middle of it when, from the wings, comes this man. Of course, my MC is stunned, shocked, humiliated and all the horrible sick sinking feelings anyone normal would have in a situation like that. Imagine it. You've been talking about this person, saying how attractive you think they are, that you've fantasized about them and taken your impressions of them and used them in a story. Then boom, without warning, you're confronted by them.

You can't run away. You're standing in the middle of a television studio with the cameras rolling, publicly humiliated, and you have to just suck it up and stick it out. First, you just stare at him, like Bambi in the high-beams. Then your brain kicks in - you've opened yourself up, made yourself vulnerable by speaking as you have, even though nothing bad was said. It's just that inner you who's standing naked on the stage.

This person sees that you're all screwed up and takes pity.

So that's the set-up. From there, they get to talking. She shows she has spunk and character, sticks the moment out and turns it around.

The interview ends and this man invites my MC to breakfast. He doesn't have anything on schedule that morning, he hates being bored, and he's interested in hearing more about her.

Nothing untoward, nothing too far fetched. They have breakfast and spend the morning together. While they're talking, he becomes more intrigued by her and about the stories she's written. When they get back to her hotel where he'll drop her off, he invites her to dinner. She accepts. That evening, he flys her to his villa in France - the one with the lovely swimming pool, deck and lawn. (Trust me, it's integral to the story thus far.) They have dinner, still talking like good friends.

During dinner she talks about some erotic art she included in the story that got her to where she is. There's nothing described in either story, nothing explicit, but he's curious about them, asks to see them. After dinner they go inside, she gets on the internet and shows him.

His actions, moving closer, leaning over her, almost touching her, make her nervous (read 'aroused'). He backs off and offers her a chance to go for a swim. She takes him up on it, hoping the water is cold (you know, the cold shower routine). After her swim, she goes to lie on the lawn under the stars and watch the Milky Way float by. He joins her and that's where I am, in my corner.

I have two options with this. I can make her out to be an adulteress who no one will respect. Or I can take her right up to the edge of the abyss and deny her the jumping off. Which, the more I think about this, is the way I'm going to play it.

Hey! Thank you. That was a great help and my way is clear.

I'm off to get started on this and I hope you have a lovely day!

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

Back to Square One

Another morning, another blank slate, another chance to right what's wrong, fix what's broke or just hang out.

As I suspected, yesterday was hectic but I got it all (almost all) done. A couple of loose ends to wrap up and then I can move onto the next. Yep, I have a couple of bruises from when things didn't go perfectly, but nothing that won't fade.

Our foreign visitor is all set and, in a few hours, will be settling into his temporary lodging near the airport until his flight leaves early tomorrow morning.

Today the auditors show up, always an exciting time.

I survived, sanity intact so I get to go back. No one said 'don't bother' anyway and I think I'm nuts. Even though I had all sorts of physical manifestations of stress because nothing stayed put, it kept shifting and jumping and changing, I had fun. Does this mean I'm insane? Stress is bad for us, or so they say. But when things are falling apart and jumping hither and yon and I'm trying to keep it together, I like it. Maybe I'm a failed adrenaline junky and this is how I get off.

Whatever.

Congratulations to the Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup at home last night. Their first home win in the final game since 1938 - so a bit of history, too.

The Tampa Bay Lightning did an incredible job of keeping it close - good job and congratulations to them, too.

It was the sixth game of a long, hard-fought series and you could see how tired all of the players were. The Blackhawks had home ice last night and you could see how the crowd kept them playing strong.

And now, for something completely different. I'm out of ideas and time this morning, so, here's a little flash piece I wrote a while back in response to the prompt 'Friday the 13th'.

Daddy's Special Door

Thu-wank … thu-wank … thu-wank… giggles crawled through the wall.  With a sigh of patient frustration, Bill pressed down on the edge of the pillow to squint at the clock.  Thu-wank-giggle … thu-wank-squeal…, a groan lifted from the other side the bed, closer to the noise.

“Is she never going to stop?”  Eleanor muttered, turning onto her back, looking over at her husband in the bluey-silvery light from the full moon.

“I dunno,” he threw the covers back, “all I know is I’m not sleeping.”

“What time is it?”

“Just gone four.”

Eleanor groaned, draping a forearm over her eyes.  “Silly kid.”

“Yeah.”  Bill was sitting up, his back to his wife.  “But you remember the first time I showed you.”  Glancing back, he caught the flash of her smile.

“Yeah, I remember.”  She tossed her side of the covers over his, turned and got up.  “I’ll start the coffee.”

The noises from the other room kept up, marking the time while Bill and Eleanor committed themselves to their morning routine.  Showered, shaved and dressed, Bill opened the door to his daughter’s room.

“Morning, doll face, are you ready?”

‘Doll face’ was obviously ready.  Dressed in her pink leotard with the multi-colored sequins Eleanor had sewn along the neckline, with each bounce on her mattress, her homemade pink, purple and blue tutu flounced above her white tights and glitter encrusted red shoes.  Thu-wank ... thump, she landed on the floor, her face split with a grin that made her father laugh.

“Just like a woman, you are, never listen when I say ‘don’t jump on your bed’.”

“Can we go, daddy?  Can we go see gramps?”

“Soon, baby, real soon.  Mama’s getting our breakfast, then we’ll brush our teeth and then we’ll go.”

Normally, breakfast was Elsie’s least favorite meal.  She didn’t like cold cereal because it was ‘squishy and icky’.  She didn’t like porridge because it ‘felt funny’.  She didn’t like eggs on principle.  This morning, however, with the trip to see gramps in the offing, she sat down to her porridge without complaint.  Eleanor watched with a bemused smile and a hand waiting to prevent disaster while Elsie picked up the butter dish and carefully took off a thin pat.  The butter done, Eleanor’s focus intensified when the milk jug was lifted, wobbled nervously in Elsie’s small hand, and was poured with nary a splash.

“Did daddy eat?”

“Yes, all finished.  He’s getting everything ready for us.”

Elsie paused, the spoon hovering over the mess in her bowl, “Mama?  Why can’t we see gramps any other time?  Why is it only now?”

Eleanor continued the washing up and preparing their picnic lunch, “Because grandpa lives in a special place with a special door.”

“Why?”

Finished at the sink, Eleanor started packing the sandwiches and snacks into the carryall.  “He just does.  Your daddy came through that special door a long time ago and he can only go back on special days.”  She closed the bag and sat down across from her daughter.

“What days?”

“Only on Friday the 13th.  The door doesn’t open except on that day.  That’s what makes it special.”

“Ohh,” Elsie stuck her spoon in the thick mess in front of her, lifted it and examined the contents.  “Can I go visit gramps alone someday?”  The bite sized lump disappeared.

“When you’re old enough you can.”

“When will I be old enough?”

Eleanor smiled, “In a few years.  Then daddy will teach you the trick so you can open it yourself.”

“Ohh.”

From the living room came the sharp sounds of Bill setting up the framework they usually kept folded out of sight in the hall closet.  The noises stopped and Bill appeared through the swinging door.

“Just about ready, doll face?”

In answer, Elsie pushed the bowl away from her and flung herself from the chair, the light of happy expectation creating an aura around her.

“Do you think gramps will like my ballerina suit?”

“I think gramps will like it just fine.”  He led Elsie back into the living room while Eleanor took a moment to scrape the remnants of porridge into the trash, ran water in the bowl, and got the cooler bag of drinks from the refrigerator.  Picking up the carry-all with their lunch, she followed.

‘Daddy’s special door’, stood in the middle of the living room.  Although it didn’t look like anything special, the hairs on Elsie’s arms lifted as her skin prickled.  The swirling gold and bronze mist within the frame looked warm, but she knew it would feel cold.  They had gone to visit gramps once already since her last birthday, and she remembered.

“All ready?”

Elsie bit her lip.  Now she was a little nervous.  Last time, after they had gotten back, she had complained that she didn’t like it when daddy carried her.  She wanted to do it herself.  This was the first time she would go through without the comfort of knowing daddy was right there, his strong arms around her.

“It’s okay, sweetie.  I’ll be right behind you.”

She took a deep breath, looked back at her parents, and stepped into the mist.  For a moment, they swirled, purple and pink, then reverted.  Eleanor was next, and then Bill.

On the other side, gramps was waiting.  Elsie dashed forward, laughter streaming behind and her parents watched as she launched herself into her grandfather’s outstretched arms, his laughter melding with hers.

It was a wonderful visit and, at the end of the day, with the second of the two suns just dipping behind the golden horizon and the three silvery moons rising on the other side, Bill picked Elsie up in his arms.

“Bye grampa,” she said sleepily.

“Bye baby doll, we’ll see you again soon.”

Eleanor leaned forward and gave her father-in-law a kiss.  Bill shook his hand and leaned in for a ‘man-hug’ before they waved and stepped back through the portal into their living room.

* * * * *
 Have a wonderful day!

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories