Mind The Gap

Hiss Me, Harry is being translated!

lddurham — Thu, 24 Mar 2016 18:40:42 GMT

Hallo, alle meine deutschsprachige Freunde! Ich bin mit Google Translate , so jede Seltsamkeit vergeben. Ich kann nicht Prongslet genug danken für die Übersetzung meiner Geschichte "Hiss Me, Harry" und ich bin so glücklich, meine lustige kleine Geschichte von mehr Menschen gelesen werden konnte.
Vielen Dank, und ich hoffe, dass Sie es so viel wie ich Spaß Schreiben hatte!

Hello, all my German speaking friends! I am using Google Translate, so forgive any weirdness. I can't thank Prongslet enough for translating my story "Hiss Me, Harry" and I am so happy my funny little story could be read by more people.
Thank you and I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it!

My very own website!

lddurham — Fri, 03 Jul 2015 01:34:21 GMT

Hi, all! Long time, eh?
Just popping in to let you know I have my very own website and I blog on there. So come on by and see me sometime, if'fn you wanna. It's at lddurham.com.

I'm currently working on a new novel, as well as editing my Joyboy anthology stories. THAT particular job is taking FOREVER, omg. I had to change the location as well as make them better and fuller stories. I'm working on Island Ink first, natch. My goal is to have them ready for a xmas release, but we'll see. The hardest part is having to deal with the character of Brodie. Oh man, he is such an ass in the first stories. His growth is the driving force of the over-arching plot line, but he is kinda hard for me to handle while knowing who he'll be later. I wanna fix him up now!

I'll try to stop in here more often. I miss you guys!

Question of Great Importance!

lddurham — Fri, 15 Nov 2013 04:01:14 GMT

Who likes food gifts for the holidays? Please answer and be honest!

I'm trying to think up gifts for people and I want to know if I go cooking up a storm, will it be gratefully, or obligingly, accepted.
If you do like food as a gift, do you have any caveats?

Get it, girl!

lddurham — Tue, 05 Nov 2013 20:07:25 GMT

Sophie, my daughter, told me of this incident, which is awesome because she is normally the kid whose buttons are easily pushed. I'm so happy for her...

While on the bus:
Sophie to her friend: Bye! See you tomorrow!
A boy who bugs Sophie, imitating her: Bye! See you tomorrow!
Sophie stops, turns, and says in a haughty voice to the boy: Your Sophia impression SUCKS!
The boy's friends all start laughing and one says loudly: Oooh, burned!
Sophie walked off with a smirk on her face.

That's my girl!

From the mouthes of babes...

lddurham — Thu, 17 Oct 2013 15:59:18 GMT

"I don't know why they have to have boy toys and girls toys. They should just have toys. Girls like Legos and boys like My Little Pony. It's dumb to make them different."
-My beautiful daughter this morning.

Sleepy Hollow

lddurham — Mon, 07 Oct 2013 15:16:47 GMT

Anyone else watching Sleepy Hallow and enjoying it?
I started it just to see how they'd pull it off since I thought the premise was a little... strained. I figured it was going to be a Grimm knock-off. But I am pleasantly surprised by it all. I'd prefer less Christianity lore, but otherwise, I've enjoyed the acting, the excellent thriller parts, the bits of history lessons, and the fact that Ichabod is British and intelligent. Putting together two of Washington Irving's tales was pretty cool.

What do you think?

Hello!

lddurham — Sat, 05 Oct 2013 03:34:16 GMT

This is me just last month at a festival where my troupe was performing. Just thought I'd show off a little.

Pay backs a bitch

lddurham — Fri, 04 Oct 2013 15:58:46 GMT

My wife put on some creepy ring tones for Halloween. One of them has a child calling out "Mommy" in a freaky, echo-y, must-save-my-baby kind of way that I really don't like to hear. It seriously wigs me out.
She laughs.
I wonder if she laughed when I sent her a Joann's coupon just now so she could be woken by a woman rasping "Answeeerrr meeeee... Answeeeer meeeeee!"

lddurham — Fri, 04 Oct 2013 15:51:07 GMT

My dogs make so much noise all the time that I am so conditioned to telling them hush, I automatically try to shush the neighbor's dog two doors down who can't possibly hear me.
I think this means I am now barking mad.

lddurham — Fri, 04 Oct 2013 15:48:00 GMT

I called out to my wife: Babe! I really love your peaches, I wanna shake your tree.
She called back: Ok.
Boy Child walked in just then and said: Oh! There are peaches on the tree?

Stuff you sometimes have to learn

lddurham — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 23:36:00 GMT

Boy Child, my son, is 13 and in eighth grade. His sister, Girl Child, is 9 and in fifth grade. Boy Child is autistic and has ADHD. He's trying to write a research paper and his sister had to spell out "taught" and "barely" for him. She then came in where I was sitting and whispered, "He doesn't know how to spell a lot of words."
"I know," I whisper back. "Thanks for helping him."
She gave me a look, giggled, and said, "But he's in eighth grade."
"I know. Don't make fun. Just help him when you can," I answered. She looked at me again for a moment, nodded, and headed off to play.

I think this is the moment that she has begun to realize her responsibility for her brother. The moment when she actually took a little responsibility for him and is beginning to realize that the boy she grew up with really is different from others and not just her "annoying older brother." Kind of a bittersweet moment, really.

Inappropriate!

lddurham — Wed, 30 Jan 2013 18:25:47 GMT

While watching season one of Doctor Who with the kids (because that's what good parents do), we came to the debut of Captain Jack Harkness. In the scene, Jack is watching our heroine dangle from a Barrage Balloon during the London Blitz, and true to our captain he says, "Nice bottom." His compatriot in arms believes he's talking to him, and Jack says, "Sorry old man, but you have a good bottom, too." And proceeds to smack the other officer on the ass. Boy Child laughed but nine-year old Girl Child sat back and said with a shake of her head, "Inappropriate." She smiled when I laughed but I admit to being a bit shocked that I am raising a Puritan. I'm looking forward to her teen years and my ability to embarrass her with hardly any work.

Two men in labor

lddurham — Sat, 26 Jan 2013 00:07:48 GMT

Mpreggers, start your engines.

Hilarious and fascinating at the exact same time.

A quiet explosion of a moment

lddurham — Fri, 25 Jan 2013 05:29:21 GMT

I started taking belly dancing classes this month (American Tribal Style, if you're interested). So tonight was my third class and we're in the rec center's dance room. Huge mirror in front of me and I realize I'm not watching myself in the mirror enough to know if I'm getting the moves or not. I don't particularly like looking at myself. I have large hips, turned in knees, my waist is off-centered (it's like a scoop is missing out of my left side a bit), and I've gained back some of the weight I had worked hard to lose.

But then I had this amazing moment. I don't know where it came from, but I had a realization: I am missing a kidney, thyroid, and appendix. I have scar tissue constantly threatening to choke out my intestine and chronic headaches, and I'm still dancing! Ha! I said to myself. Look at this jacked up body go, bitches!

And I flowed with the music and was magnificent! It was a pretty stupendous moment which is why I had to share it with you.

You ever have one of those amazing moments of clarity?

wibble Boo whooo. :(

lddurham — Thu, 24 Jan 2013 18:23:39 GMT

Last night we watched the last of season 4 of Doctor Who. The end of Ten.
How heart-ripping, gut-wrenching was that? I cried.

I want to like Eleven, but I think I need more time to grieve.

In similar news, only in season two of Torchwood. Not getting the whole Gwen/Jack thing, but as long as they keep giving us more Ianto, I'll deal. Also, does anyone else want to see Capt. Jack Harkness and Capt. Malcolm Reynolds (Firefly) on a sexy adventure? 'Cause I'm thinking that would be so amazing, I'd die happy. Just from their smug grins after doing something clever, the world would expand in awesome vibes.

Vitanomeatavegamin

lddurham — Fri, 18 Jan 2013 22:39:13 GMT

Anyone else Vegan or Vegetarian? I've been vegetarian for... about a year-and-a-half now, I think. And I went vegan* about a month ago. Wondering if anyone else is, too.

Other than the protein question, I think the most common thing I hear from other people is, "I could never do that, I don't like vegetables." The funny part is neither do I. Or I should say neither did I. Even worse, due to abdominal scarring and such, I can't actually digest a lot of veggies. Crazy, huh? And yet, here I am, a vegan.

Right now I don't have a very healthy diet, sadly. A lot of processed faux meat products and carbs. But I signed back up for the local CSA-type thing we have out here where we get a box of organic veg and fruit straight from the local(ish) farms, so I am very excited about that. And I found this awesome vegan slow cooker book, which means I can soften all the veg enough for my guts to process them. Sure, I lose some nutrients, but I still get more than none. And I don't have to go to hospital with another intestinal block. So, you know, that's a plus.

I like veggies now, because I learned how to cook them for taste. As Alton Brown said, many people don't like vegetables because they were taught to not like them through bad cooking. (So, I get to blame my mom! Boo yah!)

I was just wondering if there are any other of my kind out there. Or even if you wanted to explore it a bit and chat. Cool recipes, blogs, product or book recs?

*I am not a mean, look-down-upon-thou, preachy vegan. Promise. Some of those bitches be crazy!
I'm an ethical vegan: I do it because it doesn't harm the planet, people, or animals. Health benefits are just the added bonus. So, this isn't a phase. It's for life.

Noob!

lddurham — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 02:29:43 GMT

And I just figured out what and where AO3 is! Neat! It's like I'm a newbie all over again, fumbling about to find out what all the cool kids are doing. And you cool kids have been so busy. I love it! Now, I'll just knock on the AO3 door and hope I gets an invite in. *looks pointedly about the room*

I don't know why I ever wandered away from my home. I really don't. I don't even have a fun adventure to write about. I just feel like Gollum, coming out of the cave after a hundred years, feeling all mean and yucky and wondering if I can catch the pretty again.

How embarrasing

lddurham — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 01:53:44 GMT

I am so 2010. I mean, all my icons are completely out-of-date and I have links to Myspace and Greatest Journal on the side, here. How gauche. I need a new wardrobe and catch up with the times, man! I have a shopping list, oh! And I have a tumblr account now. Is anyone here on there? I just got it today and can't say I'm working it well or using proper tumblr ettiquette, but it seems fun.

And can anyone direct me to an icon stylist? I'm looking for the newest in Sherlock and Dr. Who, preferably Nine or Ten. And anything in a lovely Jack Harkness is always welcome in my wardrobe. Now onto my fandom terms. I am sure I am out-of-date with those, as well.

Och! Look at the wee laddie!

lddurham — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 22:28:40 GMT

I'm a huge fan of Cirque du Soleil's Zumanity show. And now they've gone and added this "Scottish Fantasy" character.

I do believe it's time for a new trip to Las Vegas!!

Oh hell

lddurham — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 19:42:06 GMT

I am trying to figure out DW. It seems like I should know this, and yet, I am not sure if I am "friends" with people. Do I subscribe to them? Am I in a circle and who's am I in? Can it be a square or possibly a triangle? How do I find people on here? Am I alone, in the dark, talking to myself? Is anyone out there? I am pressing my face to the glass. Can anyone see me?

sneaks in

lddurham — Tue, 15 Jan 2013 19:03:07 GMT

This is me, pretending I haven't been gone in over a year. Yeah, I do that.

I've about had it with Facebook. It's become the window that I now see how much a douche most of the people I knew are. For a person who lived on a site all about people's journals, how on earth did FB out self-involve what I'm used to? At least people on DW and LJ could actually, you know, write. And had something to say. And were usually quite clever about it. Plus, when ugly things went down, everyone mentioned it and often there was some sort of charity drive to help. On FB, children were mowed down, but Cousin Joanne is still voting for Hoe Hoe Booty in the Idol contest. FFS! It deadens a person's soul. I now actively hate most of the people I am related to. I was much better off only seeing them a few hours a year. I have seen what can not be unseen.

I miss community, love of good things, like literature and movies and music. I miss my fellow geeks and nerds and fandom. I was sucked into the dark side, but they had no good cookies! I was robbed!

So, what's up with peeps over here?

Blind Eye ch3

lddurham — Fri, 24 Aug 2012 20:48:57 GMT

And here is chapter three!

Chapter Three

“We want to thank you all for coming and know that you will enjoy yourselves.”

Miles took another bite of his Belgian waffle and looked up at the Master of Ceremonies who stood on the small raised platform at the head of the room. He was a large man, both in height and width, with a full head of silver hair. He had introduced himself as Charles, the president of Were It’s At, the only dating service for werewolves. Miles had heard of them before, since they’d been in business for just over ten years. But he hadn’t thought they had a GLBT branch. Still, if his people hadn’t insisted, he probably would never have done something like this.

Miles looked around at the group in the smaller ballroom of the hotel. There were four tables with about ten people sitting at each of them. It was very nice mix of men and women of all persuasions and walks of life. That should make the week fun. Miles hated to admit it, but he did enjoy people a lot and probably wouldn’t survive a few days without interacting with them. Miles took another bite of the incredibly delicious waffle and refocused his attention on Charles.

Charles flashed his straight white teeth. “First things first,” he said. “There are a few human guests. They are not being given the full reign of the hotel and grounds, though. Your itinerary has maps that let you know the areas that are exclusively ours and areas that we must share. But, we all know how difficult it is to control humans,” he paused for the chuckling, “so please use the usual discretion.

“Second, we will spend a majority of the time split into two groups: Men and Women. Finding the perfect partner is why we’re here, and we believe this allows better connections to occur. However, we will have many times in which the two groups will mix, so please do mix and make friends.” Miles was glad to hear that. He had hoped to make some friends here, and he made the best of friends with women.

“We have many fun events,” Charles continued. “And we have many opportunities in which like minds and like hearts can make that special connection.” Charles flashed his prefect grin again. “Unfortunately we don’t just know our chosen partner in this life, as convenient as that would be.” More chuckling at the reference to a literary cliché. “So participation on all your parts is highly encouraged in all our get-togethers in order for you to get to know everyone and find your match.”

Miles was very sad he had come to the end of his Belgian waffle, but he seemed to have timed it just right. Charles ended his speech with reminders of the next day’s events, platitudes about finding the perfect love, and then he was done. The room began to move as the other attendees began standing up and heading toward the first event. Miles licked the last ghost of taste off his fork and stood to join the others when he saw Carrie. He nearly went to talk to her when a very pretty woman went up to Carrie and seemed to introduce herself. Miles wasn’t about to intrude, so decided instead to head to Meeting Room A, where the men were to begin their Journey to Romance. Miles smiled at the term as he followed the other men.

“You have a really nice smile.”

Miles looked over to find a man about his size, about his age, with deep olive-toned skin and black hair. He was good-looking, if a bit thin. “Thank you. I’ve never been complimented on it before,” Miles said warmly.

“Well, you have a lot of nice things to compliment, so I can imagine that one was forgotten.” The other man’s voice was smooth and warm. Very nice. “I’m Matthew.”

“Miles.” They shook hands. “Have you ever been to one of these events before?”

Mathew shook his head. “Nope. But I was tired of dating humans, so I thought I’d give this a whirl.”

They filed in with the others into a brightly lit room on the first floor with a wall of French Doors. Chairs were set in a semi-circle and at the head of the circle was a nice-looking lady in a business suit, name badge, and a thousand-watt smile.

“Welcome, welcome. Come on in and find a seat,” she called out. Finally, all seats were taken and the lady beamed at them. “Hello, everyone. My name’s Belle and I’ll be your coordinator in finding that special man for your life.” She stepped forward to the side of the circle on the opposite side of Miles and began passing something out. “Now, if you all can just write your names down in big letters and slap those nametags on, we’ll start to get to know each other.”

Mathew leaned over to whisper in Miles’ ear. “Just telling us to strip and hop in that giant hot tub would make getting to know each other much better.”

Miles snorted and then smiled politely at Belle as she handed him his nametag. The pen came down the line, probably another way in which they would get to know each other. Miles didn’t think the act of sharing writing utensils between fifteen men was going to do anything. Mathew’s idea had been better.

“Okay, now,” Belle said, once the last sticker was plastered to the last man’s chest. “I’d like for us to each introduce ourselves and go ahead and get the basics out of the way.” She turned to the man beside her at the end of the semi-circle. Miles was amused to find the man from the airport staring at Belle with a look of resigned distaste. “Please tell us your name and occupation and anything else you’d like your special someone to know about you in the beginning. Perhaps a passionate hobby of yours, or a pack rank, if you have one.”

The man stood up, and for the first time, Miles actually looked at him. He was tall, probably about six-foot three or so. He had broad shoulders and thick arms that stretched his thin long-sleeved shirt. His blue jeans fit him snugly and Miles was sure he wasn’t the only one in the room checking out the man’s package. Dark brown hair in a short style, clean shaven, and what looked like green eyes from where he sat, Miles deemed the man good-looking. He even had a strong square jaw. Miles approved. Too bad the man’s personality soured the whole picture.

The man cleared his throat and said, “My name is Zach Michaels. I work in construction, mainly residential.”

Miles rolled his eyes in distaste. Of course, he’d be blue collar. That was his last strike as far as being on Miles’ “Possible Partner” list.

“I’m from South Dakota, where I own a small condo.”

Miles checked out all the men, and he mentally put stars next to some of the finer looking specimens. One in particular looked like a very promising prospect. A brown-skinned man with honey-brown eyes. He was dressed incredibly well for being casual. The man looked over at that moment and Miles gave him a warm smile. It was returned and Miles marked him as very attractive prey.

“I have a large family, being the third son with four siblings,” Mr. Michaels droned on. Miles wished he’d hurry up. “And, I guess that’s about it.”

Belle smiled wide. “Thank you so much, Zack,” she enthused as he sat down. She looked expectantly at the next man who was very happy to stand and extol his virtues. He was incredibly handsome, but Miles thought it looked a little too generic. He liked character in his men’s looks. He also liked a man who wasn’t a braggart, which this man clearly was. When he mentioned he was a sports model, Miles crossed him off his list. His people were not going to put much stock in a man who posed for cameras all day and didn’t seem to have any other ambition. Sure, werewolves held their youth a lot longer, but this guy didn’t seem to have much to offer other than looking incredibly edible in a jock strap. Miles checked out his basket and decided he might spare some time for Mr. Model for some fun, only.

Eventually, the man who was at the top of Miles’ list stood. “Hello. My name is Robert Mann,” he said in a smooth and deep voice that sent warm tingles down Miles’ spine and straight to the head that shouldn’t be doing the thinking. “I own a few restaurants in Downtown Cincinnati.” Oh, he was just talking sex. “I’m second in ranking in the pack that controls half of Ohio.” Miles felt Mathew’s interest perk up. Miles knew he could hold his own in the competition. “I enjoy most outdoor sports--” Well, there were always some drawbacks, Miles contemplated. “But I have to admit to being a movie buff and enjoy tramping out to the little theaters to find independent films.”

Miles was ready to propose.

“Thank you, Robert,” Belle said as Robert resumed his seat. Two men separated Robert and Miles, and he was sure they were very nice men, but they were dull as dishwater. However, one of them held promise, being a real estate agent from Savahanna, Georgia. Miles sat right beside him and made sure to give a bit of an eye flirt before he stood to make his own introduction.

“Hello,” Miles said, giving a direct look to Mr. Mann. “My name is Miles Sims. I own a dog salon and boutique in my hometown of Merryweather, Minnesota. My people are descended from a Hessian unit that stayed here after the Revolutionary War.” Miles paused for people to digest his words. He heard a snort and zeroed in on the airport guy.

Miles raised an eyebrow. “Do you have an issue with the Revolutionary War, Grace?”

“Nope. It was a fine war, I’m sure. I even believe you about the Hessian bit. But a doggie salon.” Zack snorted again. “That’s hilarious.”

Miles put both hands on his hips and moved a step closer to better look down on the other man. “First of all, I don’t want nor require your belief in my family history. And second, your sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired. Do you also giggle at paint drying?”

Zack looked up. By the tensing of his body posture, he didn’t like looking up. Miles sneered and enjoyed that until Zack opened his mouth. “If you don’t find the idea of a werewolf putting bows and dresses on a Poodle funny, then you’re a dried-up old sour puss who thinks way too highly of himself.”

“Gentlemen,” Belle broke in, her diamond-bright smile now hard enough to cut glass. “Let’s not be negative. This is a vacation and a way to get to know one another.” She stepped forward, forcing Miles to go back to his seat. He knew a higher-ranking alpha bitch when he saw one. It didn’t behoove him to tussle with the director of this love boat. “Now, Miles, is there anything else you wanted to share about yourself?”

“Yes, there is.” He relaxed and smiled at Mr. Mann again, then shared with the others, except, of course, him. “I’m the only child of the fourth in the pack. I am very involved civically, being a member of my local Chamber of Commerce and volunteer at the school district offices. Our pack is about thirty strong and is very close. Merryweather is a pretty little town that I am trying to help steer into becoming a tourist and shopping village. It has a lot going for it--”

“This is a singles convention, not a tourism show,” Zack said, dryly. “Or are you running for Mayor?”

“Suck silver!” Miles snapped.

“Okay!” Belle said a little too loudly. “Clearly you two aren’t getting along.” The way she said it, Miles had a momentary fear that she’d grab them by the backs of the neck and put them outside together. Or she was rolling a newspaper behind her back. Instead, she addressed Zack. “And that’s fine. So why don’t you just leave each other alone, okay? I’d appreciate it, Zack, if you give Miles the same courtesy he gave you and allow him to introduce himself.” She turned her back on him before he could utter any arguments. “Please continue, Miles.”

Miles beamed and decided to end on a triumphant note. “I don’t have much else to say, but thank you, Belle.” He turned to look at the group. “I look forward to getting to know all of you.” He sat down and smirked right at Zack who stared back. Belle’s perfectly pert bottom came between them and broke their eye contact. Miles took a deep breath and decided to ignore the clumsy man for the rest of the week.

Mathew and three others made their introductions and Miles was able to add one more name to his list of Possible Partners. Mr. Mann was at the top and Miles would do all he could to make sure they spent the most amount of time together. But competition was tight. Miles saw four other men eyeing Mr. Mann. He discounted Mathew, knowing he outranked Mathew a bit. But the others were serious competition.

“You’re going to go to the karaoke thing tonight, right?” Mathew asked as they were released
for a couple hours.

“I wouldn’t miss it. I love to sing,” Miles answered, smiling.

Mathew smiled back. “Me, too!” They slowed to a stop and he leaned closer as they came to the elevator cubby and saw Mr. Mann standing, talking with… Oh. That was unfortunate. Why would Mr. Mann want anything to do with Zack Michaels? Miles tried to be charitable and thought that perhaps Mr. Mann was admonishing Zack for being such an ass.

“I think,” Mathew said into his ear, “that Robert is really hot. Did you hear him say that he was second in his pack?”

“Rank queen?” Miles asked with grin.

Mathew laughed. “I so am! I happily roll over for anyone high up like that.”

“I thought you dated humans?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how dominant and tough a human can be.” Miles grinned. “I had one boyfriend that was huge! In all places. Oh, and incredibly hairy. He was so dominant, that just looking at him made me whine.”

“So, what happened?” Miles asked, watching with displeasure as Mr. Mann and Zack got into the elevator together, chatting amiably.

Miles shrugged. “He acted tough, and for a human he was, but not for me. I couldn’t always forget that I could toss him into a wall if it was a little too close to my time of the month. And then one night we got mugged and my boyfriend totally caved to the guy. I just couldn’t keep up the fantasy anymore after that.” He smiled sadly. “It was too bad. He was a great guy.”

Another elevator opened and they got in. “So was he your last?” Miles asked. He felt bad about Mathew’s recent break up, but he couldn’t let that deter him.

“Yeah, he was. Just two months ago. When I heard about this place, I barely got myself registered in time.” Mathew grinned. “I think Robert is going to help me forget.”
“Just to be fair, you should know Robert is at the top of my list, too.” Miles said, leaning up against the mirrored wall of the elevator.

Mathew frowned. “He is? I thought you liked the other guy, what’s his name? The guy sitting next to you.”

“Alan?”

“Yeah, him. The one with the Southern accent. He’s cute and seems really nice.”

Miles grinned. “I’m looking at him, too.”

Mathew slumped against the wall, as well, then straightened again when the elevator beeped and opened its doors. “Well,” he said as they stepped out. “I won’t let you just take him, you know."

“No?” Miles asked, still grinning. Mathew’s frown melted into a good-natured smile.

“No, I’m not.” He stopped at the room to his door. “You never know, maybe Robert likes the meek type.”

“I can be meek.”

Mathew burst out laughing. “Oh my god! Yeah, you were totally meek going up against that Zack guy.”

“I can be meek. It doesn’t mean I’m going to let an ass step on me,” Miles said in defense. He frowned. “Did I look like a rabid bitch?”

Still grinning, Mathew shook his head. “No, just an alpha bitch. He deserved it, being a jerk like that. What’s his deal? You guys know each other?”

“We had a run-in at the airport. He kicked my bag and nearly broke my glasses.”

“What an asshole!” Mathew said. Miles was happy to have a friend who understood.

“Let’s go down to the lawn together,” Miles offered. “You have anything red you can wear?”

Mathew cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, why?”

“Because I think if we dressed alike, we’ll have all eyes on us. Then we’ll only need to worry about each other as competition,” Miles said with a smirk.

Mathew smiled wide. “Nice. You’re good at this.”

Miles started down the hall. “I’m the best hunter in my pack,” he said over his shoulder.

“I believe it,” Mathew called back.

<-Chapter 2 | Chapter 4->

Blind Eye ch2

lddurham — Wed, 22 Aug 2012 07:27:02 GMT

Here's the next part.

Chapter Two

The plane touched down after a dizzying ten minutes of circling the airport while waiting for its turn to land. All the left turns had churned the nervous excitement in Miles’ guts into wanting to heave. He was grateful for the cool air of the airport and the incredibly convenient bathroom he found just outside his gate. A little water on his face and time spent on firm ground had him feeling much better. Just in time for the excitement to return.

A resort. How long had he wanted to go on an all-inclusive resort vacation? True, the wilds of Utah didn’t look much like the Caribbean, but he was okay with that. It was a resort. A very nice one. And his dad and community had sprung for a higher-end room. Miles grinned as he followed the signs to baggage claims, keeping his eyes peeled and his nose sharp for any signs of a rich and handsome gay wolf on his own way to the resort.

It wasn’t like he was a gold digger. He wasn’t. He made a decent living and didn’t have extravagant tastes. He wasn’t looking for a bank account to pay for his expensive desires. Sure, he had expensive dreams, but he was cursed with his parents’ strong sense of responsibility. No, he wanted a rich partner because money meant freedom. The freedom to do as he’d always wanted. The freedom to expand his shop, the ability to finally install the new technology their town’s schools needed. He wanted to update their library, and attract bigger businesses with better jobs by building an industrial park. If he had money and the backing of more money and power, then he could force the city council in his hometown to finally see the reasons behind all his plans and dreams and start budgeting money for them. They acted as if being old-fashioned was sacrosanct and should be respected and cherished. They treated him as if he wanted their town historian strung up and their historical buildings razed to the ground.

Spotting his baggage carousel, Miles headed for it. He joined the group of fellow passengers staring at the yellow light, waiting for it to start flashing. When it did and the contraption started to turn, Miles set his carryon bag down and moved forward with the rest of the vultures descending on their possessions.

There was a thud behind him, followed by a, “Sonofabitch!”

Miles turned around and found his bag tangled in the feet of a man that was on the floor. “Hey! My bag! I have my glasses in there!”

“Then why the hell would you have it in the walkway?”

Miles glared at the other man. “It wasn’t in the walkway. Why the hell didn’t you watch where you’re going?”

The man glared as he got free of Miles’ bag and stood up. Then they both glared at each other. Finally, the man narrowed his eyes. “You’re lucky we’re in public,” he said under his breath before turning to walk away.

“Yeah, that was scary,” Miles called after him, sarcastically. The man paused, adjusted his shoulders and then moved on. “Pfft.” Miles checked his bag over and was relieved to find his glasses were fine. He looked back to find his few pieces of luggage twirling on the carousel, separated from each other and alone. Collecting them up, reuniting the matched set with each other, Miles figured out that he should have grabbed a handcart before getting his luggage. Damn. He looked around, but all the ones he had seen parked everywhere had been used.

“Should have grabbed one before you left your stuff out everywhere,” the clumsy man said as he strode past with only two suitcases.

“You’re batting a thousand today, aren’t you?” Miles snapped after him, but the man ignored him and disappeared into the crowds filing out into the main lobby.

Miles looked around one more time before realizing that a knight with shining rolling wheels was not going to appear. He slung his carryon bag over his shoulder, hooked two suitcase handles together with one of their straps, and grabbed the last one and started to pull them along. Damn, that was going to scuff them all up.

Miles made it into the main lobby where he followed the signs to the rental cars and shuttles. Checking a clock he passed, he picked up his speed. If he missed his shuttle out to the resort, it would be a bad omen. He did not want any bad omens on this trip. He hustled through the crowd, and finally made it to the waiting area in the underground garage. Men and women were already filing onto the shuttle bus with the resort’s name printed on the side of it.

With a relieved smile, Miles dragged his luggage to the driver at the side of the bus.

“Just made it!” the driver said as he unlatched and reopened the door to the baggage compartment and grabbed Miles’ bags. Miles gratefully thanked the man and climbed inside the small bus. He was on his way.

Then he found the only open seat and frowned. Bad omen, bad omen.

“I’m not happy you made it either,” the man who had brutalized his carryon said. He was trying to press himself against the side of the bus so he and Miles wouldn’t have to touch each other on the ride.

Miles sat down on the outside edge of the seat. “Do you have a burr in your paw or something?”

“No. I have a bruise on my knee because some idiot left his bag in the walkway,” the other man growled.

“Driver?” Miles called. He waited until the driver looked up in his mirror and caught Miles’ eye “Sir, how long is this drive?”

“Oh, about twenty-five minutes. Not too long,” the cheerful driver called out. “Just long enough to get out into the beautiful countryside.

“Damn,” Miles muttered, and refused to look at his glowering seat companion.

“My plane came in a little late and I gotta find a bathroom, too.”

Miles turned in his seat to find a woman across the aisle from him, smiling. “Oh, it isn’t that. I just have an annoying sound next to me,” he said, returning the smile. “Are you here for the, uh, convention?”

The lady, who appeared to be in her fifties, nodded. “Yes. I tried having a husband, but it just didn’t work out. So, here I am to find a real love. And you?”

“My family sent me here since I was only coming up with,” Miles paused to look around and then finished with, “people from outside our religion. I thought it was okay, but they didn’t, so I’m giving their idea a try.”

The lady smiled and nodded. “Family pressure can be tough.” She held out her hand. “I’m Carrie.”

“Miles.” They shook hands and chatted about the traffic and then the scenery. Carrie was pleasant and nice and a very effective distraction from the glowering evil that was his seat companion, who tried to pretend he was dozing during the drive.

“Here we are, folks,” the driver called out. The bus passed through a grandiose gate, came around a bend in the road, and there before them was a beautiful hotel that had tried very hard, but failed, to masquerade as a log cabin. It sat at the mouth of a valley that was green with trees and meadows and dappled sunlight. Miles was suitably impressed.

“That’s beautiful,” Carrie said, her voice mixing with a few other murmurs of appreciation.

“Hey, Grace,” Miles said to the man beside him. “Why don’t you let that view make you feel better?”

The man didn’t bother opening his eyes when he answered. “I’ll feel better when I’m off this bus.”

Miles’ own eyes widened in surprise. “Are you car sick?”

“Why don’t you go back to your conversation and leave me alone?”

Miles turned back to Carrie and ignored the other man. The shuttle pulled up under the portico and the passengers disembarked. The rude man pushed past Miles to get his suitcases then went inside. Carrie laughingly excused herself soon after to track down a bathroom which left Miles with his bags. At least this time he wasn’t alone. A very nice-looking bellhop came up to him and grabbed his bags and escorted him inside. After checking in, which seemed more like an extremely pleasant chat than a business transaction, Miles found himself tipping the bellhop, shutting the door, and enjoying the view of his room.

“Sometimes, I really love my people,” he said, walking out of the entranceway of his room and out into the main area. Done in a modern rustic look, in greens and browns, Miles never wanted to leave. He had a separate bedroom with a full bed, a desk, a plush armchair, and an en suite bathroom that had a Jacuzzi tub.

“I really love my people,” he told his reflection in the spacious bathroom. He had plans for that tub. Maybe he had enough time now. Walking back out to the living room, Miles picked up the small folder with two sitting, gold wolves, nose to nose, embossed on it. Nice touch. Subtle. Chuckling, Miles opened it and pulled out the itinerary. The first event wasn’t until tomorrow morning’s Opening Breakfast. Miles tossed the folder down and happily went to enjoy the tub.

<-Chapter 1 | Chapter 3->

New story

lddurham — Mon, 20 Aug 2012 12:53:04 GMT

Hi, all. Long time no see. I come bearing a small gift. If you don't mind it being un-betaed, I have the second draft of one of my current stories. Admittedly, it's still in progress, but I've already written over forty pages, so far. If you're willing to ride along as I set this out, editing a bit as I go, I'd like to share. It's a bit of a tongue-in-cheek response to some of the overdone devices in m/m werewolf stories.

Blind Eye (random working title)
Humor, werewolves
In the real world, werewolves don't automatically know who their heart beats for. Sometimes, they need help. Miles doesn't think he does, but he doesn't mind the vacation his family sends him on to a gay werewolf singles retreat. What? You didn't think they had such a thing? It's the modern age, after all.

Carl Sims listened with a skip in his heart when the car door slammed shut and the front door opened. The footsteps paused as their owner stopped to drop the keys in the small plastic dish by the door; their metallic clink softened in the elephant bowl his wife had thought was cute. God, he missed Emily. She would have been able to handle this whole thing so much better than he could.

The footsteps headed toward the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and he heard shuffling as the jug of tea was taken out and set on the counter. Carl figured this was as good a time as any. He stood up from his favorite recliner and followed the clinking of glass and the sound of liquid pouring over ice. Stepping into the bright kitchen his Emily had painted Robin’s Egg blue, he paused and took in the boy.

Carl supposed he wasn’t a boy anymore. He looked boyish. Or maybe an odd mix of boy and man. It was a man’s set of shoulders, but the rounded, clean jaw of a boy. The hair was cut in a mature style, but it’s soft and light brown color made it seem more youthful than it was. The bearing of a man, but the height of a teenager. And his Emily’s warm brown eyes set in the smooth and handsome face. Carl smiled when those eyes looked up at him with a question.

“Hey, Dad. Want some?”

Carl came further into the room and leaned against the center island. “Sure, I’ll have a glass. How was work?”

A glass was set down in front of him and Carl intently watched the tea pour over the ice cubes, trying to build up enough courage to do what he had to do. It was the only option he had at the moment. Carl straightened his shoulders and ran through his argument one more time.

“Work was good. I have a new client who I think is going to be a lot of fun. She has two Pomeranians who are incredibly well-behaved for that breed. Cute, too.”

Carl took a deep breath and went for it. “Miles, I was thinking that you haven’t had a vacation since you started your, um, business.”

His son stopped and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not going camping. I don’t care what anybody says, I’m not going. There is no reason why we need to squat in plastic domes when there are perfectly reasonable cabins or RVs we could take.”

Carl pushed passed that. “That’s what I mean. I mean, that’s what I’m talking about. A fun trip in the woods at a resort.”

Miles’s eyes widened. “A resort? No way! We sprang for a resort this year? How did everyone take that?”

Carl cleared his throat and reached into his back pocket. He set the envelope down between them. “It’s not for everyone. Just you.”

“Me?” Miles picked up the envelope with a frown of suspicion. Opening it, he took out the plane ticket and the brochure. “Were It’s At?” he read with a deeper frown. After another moment of devouring the information, Miles looked up in disbelief. “You’re sending me to a gay werewolf retreat? What the hell?”

“Now, look, son. My friend in the next town over said his neighbor’s daughter went there and had a real nice time and met a real nice, um, girl. One of our kind.”

“Oh, our kind. Now I’m one of us, huh?” Miles said with a huff. Crap. Carl didn’t want to deal with a tantrum. Sometimes, in the dark of the night, Carl wondered if his pretty and fun Emily had passed off another man’s child as his. He’d be kind of relieved if that were true. Miles always made him feel like he was talking to an alien. It’d be good to know that it wasn’t Carl’s raising that had done that.

“Now, son, I’m trying to be supportive here.”

“You’re trying to send me away!”

“I’m sending you to a place where you’ll have a better chance finding someone you can settle down with.”

“You’re telling me I can’t find someone on my own?” Miles was offended as he leaned aggressively on the island toward his father. “I get dates, Dad!”

Carl sighed in frustration. “Yeah, I’ve seen your dates. So has everyone else. All pretty little snowflakes. And flakes is what I mean.”

“Just ‘cause I’m queer—”

“It has nothing to do with you being que— gay.” Carl shook his head. “What I mean is that because you’re gay, the amount of suitable partners is limited.”

“Suitable?” Miles asked, offended. “I have lots of men that suited me just fine!”

“They were all human!” Carl slapped his teeth together with a clank, breathing heavily through his nose. How did Miles always get him yelling like this? His Emily never had him yell for anything. …well, maybe for some things. Carl shook away the bittersweet thoughts and faced-off across the kitchen island with his son. “Miles, they were human,” he said more calmly. “They may have suited you for being… gay, but they can’t suit for our family. Our community.”

Miles glared at the iced tea jug with such malice Carl was waiting for the tea to start boiling. Carl gentled his tone a little more. “Son. I know it’s been tough for you. I do. There are so few of our kind, and then even fewer of your, um, orientation. But our community has really been trying to help you and be accepting—”

“Acceptance? I don’t need to be accepted by them!” Miles spat, flinging his arm out toward the window and the great world beyond its panes.

“You do. That’s how we are made up.”

“I’ll become a loner, then.”

Carl shook his head. They’d been over this before. “That’s not gonna happen. Miles, you’re not made for being on your own. You like people and crave their company. Your cousin… was the other way. He didn’t like being around anyone, even as a kid. You’re his complete opposite.” Miles huffed at the arrow of truth. “Humans can be good people. Sometimes, they can even become a part of our community. But those humans are few and far between. And it’s even tougher to find one who is… like you.”

“You’re making me feel like a leper again,” Miles said, but his stance had lost some of his aggression. Carl relaxed a little.

“I’m sorry, son. I’m not trying to. I’m just saying that all of us would like to see you happy and settled. It’s tough enough being one of us. But you’re, like, one percent of us. Isn’t that what they say? One percent of the population?”

“That number is wrong.” Miles sighed and leaned against the island and played with the puddle of condensation around his glass. “But I understand your point.” He looked up through his bangs. “But they weren’t special little snowflakes,” he said with a snip in his tone.

Carl sighed. “Okay, fine. That wasn’t… charitable of me. What I mean is, that…” Carl struggled to put his thoughts into words.

Miles filled in the blanks. “That my better half better be more butch than dandelion me,” he said with a sarcastic smirk.

“We like you just fine, son. But, if you want to get brass tacks about it, yeah. One of you’s gotta be able to get the meat on the table.” Miles’ sarcastic smirk became a knowing one. Carl flushed in embarrassment. “Goddamnit, Miles! Knock it off! You’re my son, for chrissakes.”

Miles chuckled and stood up straight. “Okay, okay. Sorry.” Picking up the plane ticket and brochure, he looked it over again. “So, you paid for all of it?”

“The others pitched in, too. We wanted you to have a nice room. Show the others you were a good catch and come from a good family,” Carl said proudly.

Smiling a little more warmly, Miles looked up. “It kind of feels like I’m being given a dowry and sent off to find a husband.”

Carl frowned and shifted uncomfortably. “Well, we just wanted to make sure you attracted the kind of fella you’d like to. I know you got your eyes set on a city wolf and, well, we figured if you showed up looking refined, like you always do, and staying in a nice room, you’d get that kind of attention.”

Miles came around the island and wrapped his arms tightly around his father. Carl relaxed and half-smiled. Miles pulled back and looked up into his father’s scruffy face. “I’ll hook a big alpha, just for you, Dad.” With that, Miles left the kitchen and went upstairs. Carl heard him dig out his laptop and set it up on the desk where Miles had done his homework all through school.

“Well, Emily, I did what I could,” Carl said into his wife’s pretty little kitchen. “I hope I’m nudging him in the right direction.” Carl picked up his glass of tea, toasted the air and drank half of it down to quell the nerves. Why’d his son have to be the “special” one? Shaking his head, he wandered back to his favorite chair and the TV.

Chapter 2->

Aunty!

lddurham — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 17:21:56 GMT

Auntie, I saw you on Geek Mom just now! I saws you! In fact, I was reading your comment and thought, "Ha ha. That sounds like something Auntie would say," then I looked over and it was you! In all the internetverse, how crazy that I would see you across a busy comment box.

...actually, it was Geek Mom. Probably not so crazy at all, huh? ;-)