The Salon
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Here’s a random example of why you should never say things you don’t really want repeated, even to people you are pretty sure won’t repeat them. This is the situation. I’m at Wane’s Salon in Irving where my good buddy, Natalie, is working her color and trim magic for my upcoming date with Bono and I’m sitting in her chair reading a book. Under normal circumstances, this (book reading) would never happen because Natalie likes to talk and she’s usually got some pretty interesting stories, therefore, I’m prone to listen.
Today, however, we are under the gun.
She sandwiched me in between shuffling others around (see what miracles happen when you tell your stylist “I can wait to see you, no prob. I’ll just run up to Sally’s and buy color in a bottle, do a little touch-up at home.” Apparently that’s the beautician’s kryptonite) and she tells me to please read my book so that she’s not tempted to talk.
I oblige by shoving my nose into the center of “The Opposite of Love.”
I read while casually checking out the people around me. I’m curious to see who’s going bold and who’s playing it safe. You know how women can check people out without anyone knowing their checking someone out. I’ve mastered this. My eyes skim to Drew, another stylist in the salon (who ironically enough isn’t gay), past him…wait…rewind.
I raise my book to shield my face. “Hey Nat, did Drew color his hair?” He’s dark today and I’m sure the last time I checked him out, he was blonde.
“I don’t know. Either he did or he cut off the bleached ends,” she says.
Soooo, Drew’s not a natural blonde. Interesting. I wonder…nah, guys don’t do that.
“Hey Nat, has he always had a beard?” I’m certain he hasn’t because I usually don’t pay attention to guys with facial hair (sexy scruff is the exception).
“Yeah, he’s had that for a while, but it probably wasn’t as thick last time you were in.”
“He’s looking a bit Unabomberish today,” I add and I go back to reading.
A few seconds later Natalie nearly doubles over in laughter and wipes at tears with the back of her color stained hands. “Hey Drew,” she yells across the salon and her voice cracks on her laughter at the end. “I’ve got something to tell you.”
I pull my book closer to my face, terror stricken now. ”Natalie, what tha…don’t tell him-”
“Oh he’s gonna love this,” she says to me then repeats every word I just said. Very loudly.
Of course he laughs and makes self deprecating jokes and I’m feeling all bad so they don’t help me feel better. I have to join in on the yell fest so that he thinks…well, I don’t know, maybe so he doesn’t feel bad. “Drew, I think you’re adorable (and he is in that unassuming guy next door kind of way) and the fact that I noticed the hair and the beard means I’ve totally checked you out on more than one occasion.” Because, well, I have. I could’ve inserted a wink here, but that would have just been too over the top. So I grin and go back to reading about Carl and Emily and blatant sexual harassment in a sleazy hotel room in Arkadelphia.
Did I save face? I don’t know. Probably. After his client left, Drew came over to my chair and said, “I had this really great joke about delivering a package, but then I thought about “package” and realized maybe it’s not such a good joke.”
Where did my eyes go just before he turned his back to me?
He shoots, he scores.
Art of Sensuality
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Just ordered the much anticipated Art of Sesuality by Jax Cassidy from Amazon today. Can’t wait to get it! I would add a cover but I’m a moron who can’t seem to figure out how to work that feature. Here’s the blurb, followed by an author bio.
Title: ART OF SENSUALITY
Author: Jax Cassidy
Publisher: Parker Publishing
ISBN: 978-1-6004-3044-2
Page Count: 250 pgs / print
Release Date: November 17, 2008
Art was not only a passion of Machiko Barrett, but also a destiny…a way of life she has known since her talent was discovered at three years old. Caught in a turbulent storm of celebrity, scandal and corruption, she disappeared from the art world only to re-emerge fifteen years later as an au pair to the two young children of renowned Parisian gallery owners. Her sheltered existence is disrupted when she is lured back to her one true passion: painting.
Author Bio:
Jax Cassidy is a multi-published author and has written under the pen name Cassidy Kent. She is Co-Founder of Romance Divas, an award winning romance writer’s website and discussion forum. In between skydiving for charity and campaigning against human trafficking, she enjoys the company of close friends and indulges her caffeine fix at the nearest cafe. An avid traveler and an adventurous spirit, Jax has drawn inspiration from her experiences and often blends the exotic mix of Eastern and Western lifestyles into her writing. When she isn’t locked up in her office penning her latest manuscript, Jax can be found creating abstract paintings for future art shows, or dividing her time between California, Texas, and Florida.
For more information on Jax, please visit her online at www.jaxcassidy.com or www.jaxadora.blogspot.com
Thank You For Not Cuddling
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I am not a cuddler, never have been. But since my husband and I have found ourselves on completely different schedules, what with him putting in long hours at the office, my being enmeshed with all things kids when they are at home, followed by staying up into the wee hours of the night, we find ourselves lacking in alone time. Then there’s the issue of it now being cold at night. So, when I finally roll into bed at 2 AM, I’ve found myself snuggling up for closeness and well, heat. He, however, is a cuddler. Imagine my surprise when we go to bed last night (I’m taking a short reprieve from the late nights) and he says, “you know I love you, right?”
At this point I know I’m in trouble. “Um, yeah.”
“Well,” he clears his throat “When you come in late and snuggle against me, sticking your cold feet in the bends of my knees, it kinda wakes me up and I have a hard time getting back to sleep.”
“But it’s really cold when I go to bed.”
“Maybe you should think about socks.”
He’s a cuddler. I’m not. I’m thinking he should be grateful. 
Against a Wall
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Over the last month I’ve been doing some major revisions to Sleeping In The Wet Spot. I came to a particular scene and hit a wall. Nothing was happening. I couldn’t get anything good to come out and just couldn’t seem to move forward. After torturing myself for an entire week on a mere three pages, I finally had an epiphany.
WTF? Just cut it.
Do I really need that scene? The answer is no. I don’t. Can I get where I want to go without it? Hmm…Yes, I actually think I can.
With a sigh of relief, I highlighted the section giving me grief and hit delete.
Wouldn’t it be nice if we could do that with life? Just highlight the parts we don’t need, the ones that no longer serve us and hit delete.
Why can’t we?
Life is simple. We make it hard. It doesn’t have to be hard.
What purpose does over analyzing serve? Why must we continue our self-inflicted torture?
Okay, so maybe with life we can’t just erase the old scene, but we can create a new one. Tomorrow is a new day, a blank page. What kind of scene will you write?
Crazy Days!
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It’s been a crazy couple of days.
First of all, I got indoctrinated into the hell that is the school supply isle. Yes, I am one of those loser parents who missed the PTO deadline for the pre-packaged supplies and was forced to print out my list and wade through the madness that is worse than Christmas on crack. Who knew blue and red pocket notebooks with brads would be impossible to find? And why won’t purple, orange or green do? It’s kindergarten for god’s sake!
I wanted to mainline battery acid by the time I was done and there are still four things on my list I couldn’t find. Maybe my daughter can barter for folders with her abundance of #2 pencils and facial tissue. Thanks to a recent trip to Costco, I’ve got a bitchin’ supply of zip-loc bags to throw in to sweeten the deal for the hold-outs.
My appointment has been scheduled for my hypnosis. It’s on Friday at 3:30 and I am oh so excited. I’m one of those skeptical people, not that I don’t think it can happen to others, I just wonder if it will happen for me. It’s going to be a two hour session and it will be recorded so I’ll be sure to pass on all the details on Friday. This of course is research for some changes I’m making to Sleeping In The Wet Spot. I sent it out to a handful of agents, got some very positive feedback and am making revisions based on those comments. I am really excited about the new direction the story is taking and can’t wait to get it revamped and ready to go again!
Blogger Virgin
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Okay, so I’m not a total blogger virgin. Like my first time having sex, there were a couple of false starts but I am committed to seeing this through. And no, the guy didn’t die from blue balls, he did eventually score. But enough about me. Oh, wait, that’s why you’re here right?
I have a few exciting (I think) things coming up in the following weeks and months. My daughter starts kindergarten, I will be taking a beginners psychic development course and I plan to undergo hypnosis. All of which are bound to provide invaluable insight into current and future writing projects.
I promise to be as honest as my perception allows. I don’t really worry about political correctness but I also don’t go out of my way to offend. I call things how I see them and we all have our own point of view. It’s okay if we don’t agree.
I plan to talk about whatever is on my mind, ie, family, relationships, sex, movies, books, dumb-ass neighbors, no topic is off limits. Sometimes there may be a point, sometimes it might be random and totally meaningless. Nonetheless I invite you to take a look inside my glass house.