Just 'tinkin'

As the daylight grows just a little longer I realize once again the time for being a part time hermit is growing to an end. Ick. The cozy sweaters and socks will be disappearing in a while and I'll have to get over my self-imposed funk.

Winter is a time for introspection for me. I need it to recharge batteries, let my brain idle, and just decompress. However, too much of a good thing is not always a good thing and kick-starting my brain and body back into action is getting more difficult. Perhaps that's because last year was a doozy of a year and I really needed some down time.

But, a kickstart is really what I need. The good news is that Katie is coming up for a visit and Isabella and I have plans for a rollicking good time. If THAT can't start the blood pumping, I have no idea what will!

So, fingers crossed, I'll be able to tell y'all what we three get up to. (At least, the mostly censored version...lalala!)

Cheers,
Kennedy

Amazing Day.....

It has been a while since I posted anything in here. I found this pic in one of my files and it made me grin. Probably not the best quality, but it was taken the last day of a writer's retreat where the whole idea of Aunt Fern and the Cousins was born. Such a lot has happened since then. A couple of the cousins are missing, but the main naughty girls are in evidence. Isabella, Scarlet, Kennedy and Katie. These wonderful women make me smile, encourage me, and keep me writing.

An old friend of mine (She has known me for 20 years, so yes, we were in diapers together...ahem.)was a little shocked by my blog when she read it recently. I guess I might be shocking to some and vanilla to many. It feels interesting to be alive sometimes, when what I find to be middle of the road is considered to be "scandelous" to some and "boring" to others.

So this brings to mind: how and when do we censor what we read and think and do?
My mother was great at believing "Do as I say and not what I do." She would read a book and then hide/get rid/destroy it if she thought I shouldn't read it. Of course, her criteria for censorship was skewed. Sex was ok. Swearing was ok. It was NOT ok if performed by any member of the Roman Catholic Church. (Goodbye "Thornbirds") Nevermind. I read a copy, borrowed from my religious studies teacher. The "Thornbirds" didn't seem to scorch his RC dogcollar at all. Oh well.

So, here is my humble opinion. We censor what frightens us. We don't want to look at it. It scares us, since if we don't have a strong center, we might just be swayed. Hence all the book burnings, all the destruction of art that 'challenges morals.' To be honest, if I'm a secure person, no piece of art is going to change my inner moral compass. The same with a piece of literature.

I also want to know one thing: When did we give up the ability to turn OFF the television or radio?
People complain about TV shows or Shock Jocks. Again, turn the buggers off. I don't have to give them revenue by watching them or listening to them.

So, if my words are shocking, they are my words. If I rock your world just a bit, hold on. See if your compass moves. If it doesn't, see what else you can stand. You might see some amazing things in this big, beautiful world of ours.

Cheers
Kennedy

Excerpt from Tangle of Tombstones

Hey y'all...you didn't expect to be spared the obligatory reading of the opus did you?
Hold onto your seats, 'coz here she comes!
Tangle of Tombstones by Kennedy J. Crosbie
Being infamous can just ruin a girl’s day…and love life.

Coming January 15, 2008
from Dark Eden Press, where temptation is only a page away...
http://www.darkedenpress.com

Blurb
Can hardworking, everyday necromancer Zoë Kelly rescue NBA hunk Leo ‘Killer’ Kulhaney from the clutches of a ghostly haunting while fighting off advances from the Mafia? With help from her wildly eccentric family, Zoë might be able to handle everything life is about to throw at her. Maybe.

Excerpt:

From Chapter One.

“Uggh” is not the most ladylike utterance first thing in the morning, but when Zoë smelled what her roommate held out for her to drink, it was the only response that came to mind.
“Quinnie, with what are you trying to kill me this time?” Zoë pulled her bed covers up to modest proportions and sat up. Quin, who refused to answer to her proper name of Susanna Quinlynn McMurty Jordan from the precious age of two, glared at her over the edge of Zoë’s favorite earthenware mug.
“I brewed you a tisane to get you up and rolling this morning. You were in a foul mood when you got in last night!” Quin rolled her green eyes theatrically, and laughed. “Now, you silly moo, drink this. You know Aunty Quin is always right!”
Zoë, accepting further protest was futile, pinched her nose and drank down the suspicious looking tea in one gulp. It was surprisingly refreshing, tasting of honey, mint, and something else she could not quite identify. Life with a White Witch was always interesting. Quin’s green eyes sparkled, and she shoved her mass of red hair back with her fingers as she grabbed the mug out of Zoë’s hands and thrust it on the nightstand.
“Now,” she said, in mock spectral tones, “You must tell Madam Quin all about the date of doom. It must have been a doozey, the way you slammed the door and stomped up the stairs”
Zoë’s dark eyes glared back at her for a moment, then she laughed her telltale snort and patted the deep comforter beside her, and Quin jumped up on the tall bed.
She sighed. “It was quite awful, really. I am never, repeat, never going to let Den set me up on another one of his fabulous blind dates again, I swear. Just because I can’t get men to touch me with a ten-foot pole, because I am a wee bit, oh, notorious, infamous, whatever you want to call it, Den feels that every new guy in town should be shoved in my direction!”
Quin started laughing. “Guys are just insecure because you’re hot!”
Zoë snorted, unconvinced. “Good try, Quin. Once they find out that I’m that Zoë Kelly, they either run for the hills, or they want a free reading. Either way, my lack of love life sucks. Last night was just bad from the first.”
She stared at her best friend as she was literally rolling around and laughing, the sight of the manic red-haired Witch, in bright pink footie pj’s with printed penguins was a little off-putting. Quin managed to wheeze out “But Den said that Bradford would be perfect for you. He was supposed to be all ’cutie patootie’, lawyer, dressed well, and drove a Volvo, nice assets? Isn’t that Den-speak for a nice bum?”
Zoë started laughing, along with her friend. “That’s why I chose a restaurant close to home. This one had warning bells all over it. I took one look at ‘Mr. Cutie Patootie’, and he looked like this overgrown version of a kid we knew in high school, just preppie as heck, and full of himself. Do you remember, what’s his name? The guy on the debate team? He always wore a tie? Anyway, here was Bradford, the adult version, full of his own importance. If you removed the stick up his… nope, not going there” Zoë stopped, waved her hands, “Okay, back to the restaurant. Here am I, with the poster boy for prep, in this romantic restaurant. Den had even called ahead and asked for their secluded table.”
She paused and added sarcastically, “By the way, I think we are paying Den way too much. Where was I? Oh, yeah,” Zoë continued, a wry look on her face, “The Bradford decides that he will order for us. Nothing like a pre-women’s rights man for me.” Zoë snorted, disgustedly, shaking her head. “Around the time the martinis showed up, so did his grandmother.”
Quin’s eyes did their usual double-in-size trick. “Um, alive and kicking, or as in dead as a doorknob?”
Zoë pulled a stray curl out of her mouth, and grabbed at her bedclothes as they started slipping. The one problem of sleeping naked-- the occasional morning visitor. Once she was convinced she was covered up, not so much for modesty but because the room was a little chilly in the morning, she continued her narrative.
“His grandmother? Quin, what do you think? With me around? She was as dead as Disco pants. Grandmother was peeved at The Bradford and everyone in the family for having put her in, and here I quote ‘That damned nursing home, and don’t you think that I can’t tell the difference you uncouth hooligans.’ Grandmother was in a mood and was ready to rumble, especially since she had the chance. It took all my self-restraint to not drop my steamed mussels in his lap when she called Bradford a ‘compulsive bed wetting, thumb sucking, Nancy boy.’
“During the course of the evening, of course, the truth came out. It turns out Bradford knew his Grandmother had been trying to get in touch with him. He’s been having nightmares, smelling her perfume in odd spots, light bulbs blowing, basically every classic symptom of a haunting, so the chance encounter with Den at the In Inn was no chance encounter. He just didn’t want to book a meeting with me in the regular way.”
She threw a pillow at her wall in frustration. “I’m sick and tired of people being such idiots. Call! Make an appointment! It’s no big deal. Ever since the OtherWorld’s ‘Coming Out’, it’s legitimate, above board and best of all, if it’s a genuine haunting, it’s tax deductible!”
Quin peeked out from behind her overly long bangs, this week an unusual shade of magenta. “Ah, did you get a contract, at least?”
Zoë, her throwing fit forgotten, smiled. “Well, I did re-order my dinner and got what I wanted. I told Bradford I didn’t really mind that he once had a bladder control problem. He changed completely. Deflated, one might say.” Zoë laughed. “Once the pleasantries were out of the way, I pulled out the standard Witches’n’Whispers contract from my handbag, which he read over carefully and signed. He’s supposed to call Den today or tomorrow and make an appointment. After the silliness was over he paid for a lovely dinner. But no, we won’t be seeing each other on anything other than a professional basis.”
Quin roared with laughter. “Den strikes out again on the match-making front, but at least we get some business out of the deal. I just hope that you don’t fall over in complete frigid frustration, while the dearth of dating material continues.”
Zoë looked over at her clock. “Quinnie! Forget my lack of love life. It’s time to rock’n’roll, babe!”
“Go, baby, go!” was the reply from Quin.

*****

Coming January 15, 2008 to:
http://darkedenpress.com

Kennedy J. Crosbie
Blog: http://cousinkenndyathome.blogspot.com
MySpace: http://myspace.com/kennedyjcrosbie