Tell Me This...

How in the heck am I supposed to resist this face?

Can I Have A Cowboy, Please?

I just read Janette Kenny's One Real Cowboy. Janette being Jan of Writeminded, of course. She's the one in the foxy brown shoes with delicate, feminine ankles. I hate her.

Anyway, this is a Western, and you all know I am a history ho, a westward ho in particular. There's also a mystery, which I am all about, AND a marriage of convention, my favorite Romance Plot Device. You'll want to grab a snack and a cup of coffee and disappear for a few hours with this one.

Basically, a titled Englishman is sent to America as a semi-punishment for his drunken, wastrel ways, and he winds up running a ranch/farm that also breeds thoroughbreds. His daughter has poured her heart and soul into keeping the place, but the father's death has Grandpapa back in England ready to sell it and order her back to the old country, because she has not married.

She, of course, responds by hiring a cowboy to sign a contract that states he will be her husband for a month, long enough to convince her grandfather to sign over the title to her.

Oh, come on. You've read enough of these to know that's not how it works out.

The heroine, Beatrix (the hero calls her Trixie) is a mix- she's realistic about her situation, even distilling bootleg spirits from her apple orchard to make ends meet. But she's also a bit wide-eyed and turns over control to Cord a little too easily. She does get irritated, but I wanted to see her fight a little more. I liked her but I also wanted to slap her a few times.

The hero is Cord Tanner, a down-on-his-luck cowpoke who grew up hard as the son of a prostitute. He's everything you want in a cowboy in these books- he has that Code of the West running all the way through, and I adored him. He's very swoonworthy. He wants to handle all these problems for Trixie and then fade out of her life, even though he's falling for her and dreaming of more. Le Sigh.

Warning- there are several remarks made about Cord's "little rustler." Prepare your family to hear you groaning.

The only problem I had is one I've had with several stories- Beatrix is told that she can't convince her grandfather that the marriage is real unless she sleeps with Cord, because everyone will be able to see that she's innocent just by looking at her.

Is that really true? I've read so many stories where the unsexed women apparently have I AM A VIRGIN tattooed on their foreheads. After the first experience, especially since the first time is also a honking huge One With The Cosmos moment, everyone sees it immediately and smiles at them, wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more!

I've never seen anything that blatantly noticeable, but maybe I'm not very observant. Anyway- great book, Jan. Look forward to more!

The Magical Healing Hoo-Hoo

I read Michelle Buonfiglio's Romancing the Blog post last week, and it's a hoot. She recalls, with affectionate snarkiness, the romanceisms we've all become accustomed to: the roving eyes, the wandering hands, and the poor heroines' lips that are bitten, worried, and chewed yet still stay full, moist, and petal-soft.

My personal favorite? "He seized her, pulling her against the long, hard length of him."

I love it when they're subtle.

The comments degenerated, as most discussions in romancelandia do, to what to call the all powerful hoo-hoo. Michelle proposed a workshop at RWA on penile and clitoral terms for the euphemistically challenged; I don't belong to RWA so let's have our own!

I have to start out by saying that I have a personal boycott on pebbled nubbins. Don't wanna read no more nubbins, pebbled or otherwise.

"Velvet sheath." Now, I'm pretty happy without graphic depictions of moisture, but you know there's gonna be some. Wet velvet sounds graphically unsanitary. It is usually accompanied by the word "impaled," which makes me think the story's going Stephen King on me and the hero's going to slice clean through the top of her head.

"Feminine passage." Most often paired with "feminine folds," I can only guess that the author really, really, really wants me to understand that this is, indeed, a girl.

"Flower of womanhood." See Tiger Lily above. Put your own de-flowering or thorny bush joke here.

"Damp heat." Okay, I can take that. Damp I can handle. Damp is good. It's when the hoo-hoo starts weeping, sighing, sobbing and drenching that I begin to worry the girl needs a doctor. No hoo-hoo should drip.

"The Enchanted Grotto." I've mentioned this one before, and it still squicks me out. A grotto is full of dirt and rocks and slimy moss, no? (One of Michelle's commenters read of a heroine's cavern. Unfortunately, at that point in the story the hero's face was at the critical juncture and she had visions of him yelling "Hellooooooooo" just to hear the echo.)

I like the simple approach. Overwrought descriptions make me laugh. Or cry. Some of the best scenes I've ever read just said, "her."

What about you? Words for the hoo-hoo?

Blogger Fired Amid Controversy

Snarkling Clean blogger Robyn has been fired after she turned on NAPP, telling the chairman of the organization to exercise his right to click off. “It’s called SNARKling Clean for a reason,” she allegedly told the group’s ruling council. “I’ve been snarking for years. Get over it.”

The NAPP chairman then called for her dismissal from the blog, saying, “this kind of hateful rhetoric cannot be tolerated.”

When asked when he had read the column where Robyn insulted the “Happy Feet” penguins, the chairman said, “Well, I never actually read it. I don’t normally read that blog. I heard about it from CNN, like everybody else.”

Blogger's Partner Begs for Intervention

Embattled blogger Robyn has now been asked by her partner, Missie, to enter rehab to deal with her penguin issues. "Robyn isn't a bad person," she told Glenn Beck last night. "This is really a cry for help."

Beck asked her, "But why rehab? She's not addicted to anything, is she?"

"Of course not. But she needs counseling for these penguin-phobic tendencies."

Beck came back with, "Does she really need reeducation? Maybe she doesn't need counseling. Maybe she's just a jerk."

"You just don't understand," Missie snapped. "It all stems from some bizarre and tragic petting zoo incidents in her childhood. She needs closure."

Beck's disbelief was visible. "Penguins? In a petting zoo?"

Missie refused to elaborate as she left the studio, saying she was late for her interview with Larry King.

Blogger Apologizes For Comments

After Snarkling Clean blogger Robyn was soundly criticized for referring to crested penguins as “spastic” and “straw-haired,” she met with the chairman of NAPP. She had this to say: “I’m sorry if any penguins were insulted by my bad joke. I have since learned that dancing is pretty well impossible for penguins, which is why their movements seemed kind of strange in the movie. And the little hair things over their ears are actually feathers, not hair, and quite soft.”

The NAPP chairman said his council has not yet decided whether or not they will accept Robyn’s apology. “She has gained a certain understanding but she’s not there yet. We will have to discuss it further.” He went on to say that younger penguins were permanently scarred by the remarks, which will surely limit their self-esteem when performing in the new penguin movie, “Surf’s Up!” set to release soon.

Blogger Tirade Insults Penguins

The blog Snarkling Clean may have to clean up their act, after one of the bloggers referred to the crested penguins portrayed in the movie “Happy Feet” as “spastic” and “straw-haired.” The chairman of the National Association for the Promotion of Penguins, or NAPP, has called the remarks “degrading, derogatory, and inflammatory. We have enough to deal with making people understand that we don’t live at the North Pole and have nothing to do with polar bears. We shouldn’t have to deal with species-ist comments from a somewhat regionally known blogger.” The blogger, Robyn, had no immediate comment, but was heard to mutter, “So? They look like that.”

I’m A Grumpy Old Blogger

I’m grouchy. No big surprise there. And here are but a few of the reasons.

1. PeoPle WhO iNsiSt oN tYpiNg tHIs wAy. Seriously, is there any reason for it except to annoy the crap out of me? Good luck getting a job, there, slick. My only hope is the fact that your human resources person is going to have a heck of a good laugh when he throws your ReSuMe in the garbage.

2. People have implanted their frigging cell phones in their frigging ears. It wasn’t bad enough to try to talk to someone who wouldn’t end, or at least suspend, his conversation to give you an intelligible food order because he’s convinced he is just. that. important. But now, the tiny hands-free models have given me a parade of demented people who seem to be having discussions with themselves, the door, or the lamppost. I’m irritated because now I can’t tell if they are on their cells or actually crazy.

3. Hollywood has no new ideas. It gives me 875,679 sequels and rip-offs of a movie that really wasn’t all that wonderful to begin with, or I’m forced to watch a spastic straw-haired penguin dancing to old 70’s tunes and call it innovative. C’mon, Hollywood! You have the (supposedly) most talented people in the world AND a kajillion dollars. Come up with something!

4. The lady who came into our shop last Friday who could not understand that a little sandwich place inside a convenience store that bakes its own bread fresh couldn’t keep up with the demands of some mini-Nascar go-kart fanatics that descended en masse on us. Yes, we ran out of white bread before the next batch was baked, and you had to eat (horrors!) wheat bread. With an entire city two miles away that has real, live restaurants, you had to come to our tiny little shop and give us the stinkeye? Screw you. Have your international go-kart competition somewhere else. Preferably someplace where a testy chef can yell at you.

Happy Anniversary Bay-beh, Got You On My Miiiiiiind!

Tuesday was the 15th anniversary of one of the best decisions I ever made.

I am not going to write a long, gushy, flowery post about how he is my everything, completes me in every way, is the most handsome and sexy man ever, a wonderful father, and my bestest friend, because we are just not gushy, flowery people. We are much more likely to laugh uproariously during what should be a Hallmark moment than gaze longlingly into each other's eyes while pondering the meaning of the universe.

So instead, I present you with pictures. Of the most cutest handsomest funniest goofiest dorkiest goodest guy ever to be borned. And he's all mine.

Us on Tuesday. Keep in mind the camera adds ten pounds. There were about fourteen cameras taking our picture. Do the math.

Here he is, attempting to nap but instead being attacked by the toddler and her "bowwull". He puts up with alot.

Putting Up With Alot, Part 2--Vanquished by a Ninja. Still not getting a nap.

Camping in the mountains on his 40th birthday last year.

Doing what he loves.

Lifetime Original Movie-

Frolick on Fourwheelers, a moving story of two ATV enthusiasts who find love in the wild hills of Idaho while wearing huge jackets.

I love you, Honey. Here's to fifteen more.

Bribing of the Toddler

Grampa demonstrates one way to make the Baby love him more than Grammi.

(while I, apparently, am picking my nose, hoping it is caught on film for posterity)

Step One: Fill child's mouth with foamy sugar-laced product. Because the child didn't get near enough Easter candy. And what parent doesn't dream of a sugared-up toddler.

Step Two: Sit back and laugh while said child foams at the mouth.

Step Three: Put whipped cream directly on child's finger..you know, because straight into the screamhole wasn't enough.

Step Four: Laugh hilariously at funny hyped-up child when she sticks out finger for more. Laugh further thinking of how your daughter-in-law will be up all night while child is going through Easter Detox.

Not shown: Step Five: Cry thinking of how you will be put into a home in a few short years. Because of the whipped cream and other crimes against your daughter-in-law's sanity.

Hope You Had a Better Easter Than This Kid

Be back with more snark as soon as we recover from the Cadbury Egg sugar coma!

You Say It's Your Birthday? Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah! Well, It's Robyn's Birthday, Too! Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!

Let's all join together in wishing Robyn a happy FORTY-THIRD birthday on Friday!


May your day be filled with goofy hats...



















Lots of cake and ice cream wearing....

















And the knowledge that many people look up to you for strength, wisdom, and most of all, SNARK.















Happy, happy day, my friend.

The world was made a much brighter, sweeter, funnier place just by you coming into it. I am glad we found each other.

Now, you'll never get rid of me.... Bwah, ha, ha, ha, ha!

You're It!

I'm such a dork.

I forgot to tag peoples when I did my Mom Truths. And here I was all proud of myself by just getting the stupid post done on time!

So...Michelle Willingham (who wrote a great book I just read, by the way. Go out and buy many copies of it now!), Becki F from Cooking With Whine at Clubmom.com, Bernita our beautiful and wise Canadian friend, and SuperPaige, put up your own version so that we may learn from your wisdoms and smartses.

Go forth and show us your brilliance.

And put up pictures of your kids or grandkids.

Because I'm the mom and I said so.