Month: February 2019

MJ’s Musings: How Does My Garden Grow?


Yes, it is still February in upstate New York. Yes, there is still snow on the ground. Neither of those means I can’t start thinking about my 2019 garden.

Last year was the first year I had what I really wanted.  It has taken several years to reclaim my back yard from the above-ground swimming pool that was here when we purchased the house.  The pool was a great thing to have when the children were  younger. But eventually it turned into a time & money suck. I’d much rather have a yard.

In 2018, I decided to go with coleus for color. My husband is allergic to bee stings, so color without flowers is a concern. So in May, I purchased many plants, along with a sweet potato vine and Persian shield. The man who has been helping me reclaim the space planted my coleus along with chives, lemon balm, oregano, two kinds of parsley, spearmint, and peppermint.

For some reason, he planted the coleus in front of the herbs. In May it wasn’t a problem.

Even in June, I could manage.

July started to be challenging.

By August, the herbs were essentially unavailable, but the coleus was gorgeous.

So I clearly need to rethink 2019. I have a corner, down by the garage, that is deep and difficult to access. I think I will fill that with coleus.

And where the coleus grew with the herbs requires more herbs. Perennials such as thyme, rosemary, sage.  Maybe I should put in basil, too. My basil is usually in a container. I find I don’t use it as much as I used to. What I’d love to grow is cilantro, but I’ve never had success.

We do have cherry and grape tomatoes for my husband. I think green onions and spinach would be nice additions to plot of land.

MJ Monday: MJ’s Manuscript: BETRAYED BY THE MOON

Book 1 of the Service for Sanctuary Series, Betrayed by the Moon has a tentative publication date of June 26, 2019. I am super excited. I love the characters and their story.

Here’s an excerpt:

Chapter One

Ethan sat in his bright red truck—not the most unobtrusive vehicle for surveillance—and tried to stay awake. Not only had he been forced to volunteer for the mission, he’d been exiled to Minnesota to do so. Pro-lycan factions considered Congressman Bryant Peters a crucial swing vote on the treaties between the werewolves and the United States. His vote, rumor claimed, was on the fence. Ethan’s job was to convince him favoring the treaties was in his best interest.

Ethan wasn’t sure how to approach the mission. He’d researched the congressman’s itinerary, ending with him outside a regional office in Warwick, Minnesota trying to decide what to do next. Worry about bungling the mission played havoc with his body and his senses. He couldn’t blame being in a strange city. Too many years on the road with Toke Lobo and the Pack taught him every night was a new adventure.

A lot of people entered and emerged from the professional building. The congressman wasn’t the only person who rented offices at the address.

Something smelled . . . unusual. Out of place.

One woman stomped out the door. Ethan straightened in his seat, gaze riveted on her. She was clothed in the same black every other woman wore. Her neat pant suit gave her a professional appearance. Long brown hair was caught at her nape with a barrette, exposing her mating spot.

Her mating spot. The place Ethan would use his teeth to mark her when he claimed her. His penis swelled.

Ancient Ones, he was in Warwick to meet his mate. No wonder his heart raced. He wasn’t suffering from anxiety. Mating fever caused his agitation.

He gripped the steering wheel to keep from bolting from the truck, sprinting across the street, and tossing the female over his shoulder. He didn’t want human witnesses who wouldn’t comprehend the urgency quickening in his blood.

He had a mate. No longer single. No longer stuck on a senseless mission. He could mark her, take her back to Colorado, and let some other lobo deal with Congressman Peters.

A tall thin man followed her out of the building. The female kept walking. The man grabbed her arm to stop her.

The shock of the woman’s reaction pierced Ethan like a spike.

Her response was all he needed. He leapt from his truck and crossed the street before his heart could beat twice.

“Let go of her,” he snarled at the tall man.

“Mind your own business,” the man snapped.

“She is my business.”

“Selena, who is this guy?”

Selena. His mate’s name meant moon.

Her eyes, a brindle color not unlike a doe’s pelt, widened. Her nostrils flared. “He’s my . . . intended.”

Ethan hoped the other guy didn’t catch the bewilderment in Selena’s tone. Then her words registered. She’d recognized him the same way he’d known her. She was lycan. Not human. “Her fiancé.” He used a word the human mates in the pack used before they’d been marked.

The man dropped Selena’s arm. “Well, he puts a different spin on your—”

“He changes nothing,” Selena said.

The man’s blue eyes narrowed. Ethan had the impression he was peering through the man’s skull into the sky on the other side of his head.

Ethan cupped Selena’s elbow, and a shock of genetic recognition latched on to his bones. “Are you finished?”

She tensed beneath his touch. “Yeah”

“Come on.” Ethan steered her toward his truck.

“Tell your father I’ll be paying attention,” she called to the man on the sidewalk.

Ethan helped her climb into the cab of his truck before he took his place behind the wheel.

“Your arrival is inconvenient,” she said once he’d closed his door.

“Ethan Calhoun is the name. Welcome to my life.”

“Please tell me you aren’t here for me.” Desperation edged her words. Not the good kind of desperation, as in she couldn’t wait for him to claim her. “What are you doing in Varulv territory? Where are you from?”

One thing at a time. “Loup Garou, Colorado.”

“You’re not in Warwick to find me. Right?”

“I did not come to Warwick to find you, but seeing how we’ve met—”

“No.” She stared straight ahead, her gaze as rigid as the rest of her body. “You’ve found no one.”

Ethan sniffed. He hadn’t mistaken the earthy, spicy scent of werewolf. “My mating instinct says different,” he said.

“And mating instinct is never wrong,” she said in a low voice, as if reciting by rote. “Except I have no intention of mating. Nothing personal.”

MJ’s Musings: Book Bingo: Nerd Girl-DOUBLE TROUBLE

The purpose of Book Bingo is to force us out of our reading comfort zone. I might have read DOUBLE TROUBLE whether or not it fit into once of this year’s categories because I do like the author, Claire Cross (who also writes as Claire Delacroix). Many years ago, Claire turned me on to a research book that has become an invaluable tool, so I have a soft spot for her. But I digress.

What makes DOUBLE TROUBLE a nerd girl book? The heroine writes computer code for a living. She uses shady deep net contacts when she needs information. She’s no Lisbeth Salander, but she’s still a  computer geek living illegally in a converted factory loft.

I found two “ick” factors going into the book, but Cross made the fact that the hero happens to be the heroine’s brother-in-law work for this reader.  The second “ick” is the heroine’s sister happens to be an identical twin, so one wonders what’s going on in the hero’s head. Cross made that work, too.

Good secondary characters, too. I recommend this book.

 

MJ Monday: MJ’s Music-Il Volo

I’m not sure when I first heard this “boy band”–maybe on PBS–but I was enthralled.

When Piero Barone (in the glasses) opens his mouth, I am always amazed at the voice that comes out. They are very young in this first video.

But my amazement at Piero’s voice,  Ignazio Boschetto’s dimples (even after he lost weight), and Gianluca  Ginoble’s brooding presence never end.

I can put their album We Are Love on my mp3 player and be transported to a place of relaxation.

You can read about them here.

MJ’s Musings: Rituals from My Childhood

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My mom had Saturday night rituals for us that I haven’t thought about in years. I have no idea why I stopped doing these things. Maybe modern materials don’t require as much care as things did back in day. Maybe we took better care of our belongings because we had to make them last.

We polished, then buffed our shoes every Saturday night. There were three or four colors of shoe polish and/or paste on the upper shelf in the bathroom. My dad had a large shoe brush. According to Amazon, shoe brushes are still a thing.

The other thing we did every Saturday without fail was wash our combs and hairbrushes. I can still smell the Prell shampoo we used. My mom had a dedicated fingernail brush we used to get between the teeth on our combs.  I sometimes used a toothpick.

Yes, I still clean the hair from my brush, but my comb isn’t dirty. Is my scalp cleaner than it was when I was child because I wash my hair more often? 

Do you have childhood rituals you abandoned?