It's kind of an illness...

Ihave an illness. I don't deny it. I'm a handbag addict. And my latest crack? Makowsky's Nassau Tote in Shiitake.

This past year I have rejected everything but leather and made a serious commitment to buy and carry NOTHING but leather, good quality, heavy-duty bags. I have (as some may recall) a drop-dead gorgeous Michael Kors bag in black that has been my constant companion for about a year. I also own a really nice saddle brown bag made by Marc Jacobs. But I was in the market for something I could wear with navy, some of the more earthy colors, etc.

I got a cute Coach wrist clutch in hunter green from my SIL for Christmas. So I looked at Coach. I looked at Rampage and VanZeeland... but it was her husband who stole my heart.

Bruce Makowsky knows how to make a damned handbag. For serious. This thing is a piece of art. His leather is amazing. The hardware is amazing. The leopard print lining is amazing. The color-- which he calls "shiitake" officially-- is half way between burnt gold and putty.

Don't tell Michael. I still love him. He's just... not what I need right now. We'll always have Cambridge, Michael. Always!

Why I Hate Little Children

I don't know where this notion came from... that if you don't have children there is something very wrong with you, or you are incredibly sad about it. My childlessness is deliberate and a source of happiness. I didn't want kids. I didn't have kids. Mission accomplished.

I have friends who are very aggravated by this. They have kids, and their kids like me. I know... what the hell gives there? But not wanting to bring rugrats into the world by way of my own brat-chute doesn't mean I hate kids.

Although... it's kind of fun to answer the question that way. And I do. When stupid people coo sadly at me and say "oooh, can you not have them?" Well yes, I can take birth control and damned well not have a whole brood of demons. Or I get "don't you want little ones of your own?" Umm... they don't come with a return slip. No. But what I say is, "I hate children. Can't stand them. Babies? Nope. Hate em. Would leave them in snowbanks if I could get away with it."

There are usually kids around when I say this crap, and they are very reliable about laughing. Because kids like me. Not sure why.

And I do like kids. I like the ones I can return when they get on my last nerve. I like buying them stuff their parents can't afford. I like taking them to the movies when mum and dad are a heartbeat away from something that would result in DYS intervention. It's a good excuse to see Tooth Fairy, drool over The Rock in a tutu, and pretend it was all for the kids.

Plus I love that the kids are smarter than the adults asking the stupid question. Like the other day, my five year old nephew was with me when I threatened him. He knows I'm kidding, but I think the lady at the theater was trying to dial social services in her pocket so I couldn't see her. I think I scared her a little. The rugrat was making me nuts, so I told him to knock it off. It went like this:

Me: Cut it out or we're leaving.
Brat: You already bought the tickets.
Me: I'll leave anyway.
Brat: Noyawon't.
Me: Willto.
Brat: Noyawon't.
Me: Willto.
Brat: Noyawon't.
Me: You want me to put you in the garbage disposal when we get home? Remember what happened to Kitty?
Brat: Shut up.
Me: YOU shut up.
Brat: No, YOU.

Yeah, the uptight lady was a little freaked, I think. But the kid snickered at me. I've rotted his brain... he thinks like me now. May explain why, when we were trying to leave two hours later, he yelled at the car in front of me "GIVE US A BREAK AND GET YER NOSE OUT THERE, MAN!!"

Right. Give us a break!

TEMPLATE SALE!

LAST CHANCE FOR A WHILE!

I'm not going to be taking new work on WebSong for a bit so my fingers can recover and I can focus hard on writing. I had four really pretty templates hanging around that got passes. They are $40 each WHILE THEY LAST...



A broody angel dude
Lovers in gold and tawny colors
Masked woman and her lover
Cool Anime woman on a book in red

http://www.websongdesigns.com/sale.htm

Katherine Ramsland's Cemetary Stories

Sometimes research can be a pain in the ass, and sometimes it's simply fantastic. This past week I took a carnival ride with Katherine Ramsland and her fantastic book, Cemetery Stories: Haunted Graveyards, Embalming Secrets, and the Life of a Corpse After Death. I bought those little fluorescent tabs you can stick on the edges of pages, label, and use to find highlighted areas.

Waste of time. The book looks like a porcupine on acid and about 1/3 of it is highlighted in shocking, electric pink.

Ramsland gave me everything I wanted, from how they get scars off a corpse (sandpaper), to the procedure, steps A-z, when a person dies.

I needed the information for my current WIP, which takes place largely in a funeral home, where my MC has grown up and lives with her family. Honestly I believe the people who run small town funeral parlors do amazing work. They help us at our darkest hour, when we are very often too numb and broken to show the kind of gratitude we surely would under better circumstances. They deal with family snits and grief inspired rudeness. And they sandpaper the gash off Uncle Henry's forehead after the accident so Grams doesn't wig out on the casket.

Big shout out for this book. If you need to know about embalming, funerals, mortuaries, or anything about the dead and those who care for them... check this one out!

It's Not Vanity, It's Common Sense

A while ago I struggled with some hair loss issues, including the loss of my eyelashes and eyebrows. I have to say, I am STILL a little blown away at the hysteria this prompted from some friends and acquaintances. It's hair. It grows back. Even when (in my case), it stays a little thin, there are options.

But I had people actually say, right to my face, that surgery, even losing my breasts, would be preferable to losing hair. Not only is that disgustingly vain, it's offensive that anyone would suggest their choices were superior to anyone else's at such a time. They're MY boobs, thanks. It's MY hair, thanks. The boobs remained. The hair grew back. I'm still alive.

Then, yesterday, a friend asked me if I had tried LATISSE, that lash growing formula Brooke Shields is pimping. I told her I would never even consider it, since the side effects are far too severe, and my lashes did grow back. You can read about those side effects here. She persisted, noting that the mascara I was wearing "wasn't really helping." I responded by pointing out that I wasn't wearing mascara... in fact, I was wearing nothing but a translucent mineral veil. She persisted some more, started to piss me off, and I pointed out that one of my favorite things about myself is the color of my eyes, which I inherited from my grandmother.

Then she called me vain.

Well, welcome to the world of massive WTF-ery. I'm so vain I prefer to keep my green eyes, rather than risk turning them brown, having my eyelids go dark, experiencing itching and redness, tightness in the chest, breathing issues, facial swelling, and "changes in vision," which is code for "damage to your freaking eyesight, moron."

I will never understand why some people feel any refusal to accept their advice is a rejection of them as a person. I don't get why people make the assumption that medical science can't possibly be a more helpful and wise course to follow than their recommendations based on the complex intellectual process known as "Google and what I heard in the break room."

But I know I'm NOT vain. Believe me, when you spend 4 months at a time with no hair, parchment skin, covered in scars and sores, lacking both eyelashes and eyebrows, and it can't keep you out of Starbucks... you're kind of the opposite of VAIN.

Also I hope your eyes turn shit brown and your lips puff up til you look like you were attacked by bees. Now go away.

One of My Favorite Things

I got so many incredibly cool gifts for the holidays this year I had to stop counting. Seriously, I have a gratefulness hangover and I'm loving it! Two knock-out faves were the Glee soundtracks (1 and 2), which were lustfully over-played this past month. But the big hit of the season was a surprise that came late from an old friend.

Dan Crowley's masterpiece, 505 Unbelievably STUPID Web P@ges (second edition), has kept me in stitches for nearly a week. It is chock full of the absurd, the demented, the ridiculous, and is completely delicious. If you need ideas for Valentine's Day and your companion is a wingnut... let me endorse this little gem.

WebSong, Changes, Etc

Recently there were a few developments in my Pulmonary Fibrosis journey that are, to put it bluntly, a pain in the ass... or fingers, to be precise. I'm having to adjust how things are done. The persistent infections in my left fingertips are not going away and though this is not precisely about PF, it was related... long story involving clubbing, a skin condition, and very bad luck.

Right now I am scheduled to have three fingertips amputated in February. I know... but hang on. Ahmed is working hard to fix the issue with his own treatment ideas and we've not lost hope. BUT it means I am using Dragon Actually for a lot of my typing, a larger keyboard for the rest, and can't do graphics, since I really need my fingers for that.

As such, WebSong Designs is still up for freebies, tutorials, and other stuff... but I won't be doing custom work for a while. If I missed anyone on my contact list I hope they'll forgive me. Hopefully we'll be back, but the freebies will stay regardless.

Thanks for understanding!