Simple country pleasures - the tufted titmouse

It's Thanksgiving morning and meal preparations are well underway. We've fixed a few turkey dinners so the division of labor is established. We're not quite a "well-oiled machine" but we do okay. This Thanksgiving morning, we have a flock of distractions. That is to say there is a flock of Tufted Titmouse birds in the backyard. 

Enter the cat. 

The cat is very interested in the birds. He's stalking them, as a matter of fact. The birds are, so far, alert to his presence and he's not getting very far with his little cat mission. This is a good thing. 

The bad thing is I'd love to feed the birds so they and other species hang out here over the winter, but I'm not sure if I should. I'm sure the CAT would love it, but I don't like it when he kills small critters. I know it's just his nature. My grandma used to say, "a cat's a cat and that's that." She was correct. 

So maybe I will scatter feed for the birds this year. The way of nature is the old and weak fall, not the young and healthy. I think I can be content for the birds to be birds and the cat to be a cat. 

But as for today, it looks like the cat will have to settle for enjoying a few tidbits of turkey and be satisfied with that. 

Rayne
rayneforrest.blogspot.com
twitter.com/rayneforrest

Of insistent muses - she said "blog" and here I am

Ah, the insidious little voice. You know the one. That persistent, annoying whisper only you can hear. We all have one. Call it the devil on your shoulder or your muse. Call it worse than that if you want. Heck, I won’t stop you. I generally refer to mine as my muse and she’s such a whiner! For 2015 she's been prattling on about blogging more regularly until I gave in and said I would try. 

It was basically a lie to myself, but here I am. Searching for something to blog about. 

I’m not sure what my topic should be today, although this past week certainly provided fodder. Everywhere I turn there's something going on. From the atrocity in Paris to Matt Kenseth standing his ground (yea!), news abounds. But this is supposed to be a blog about the writing and the author behind it. 

I’ve been busy writing this past week. Very busy. My alter ego finished a manuscript and turned it in - WITH the forms. That's not a small feat. I needed to get that finished and clear the decks for Thanksgiving. This year, I'm fixing both Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners for us and my mother and stepfather. It's not a hardship. I have a plan, and my beloved is onboard to help. 

Today is the last NASCAR race of the 2015 season, and I plan to watch most of it. It's Jeff Gordon's last race, and while I'm not precisely a Gordon fan, I have no trouble admitting he's had a stellar career. While the race is on, my partner and I will finalize the game plan for Thanksgiving and Christmas cooking. Christmas is easier because I have the day before off work, but all will be fine. 

So here it is. I’ve completed my exercise in self-discipline and blogged on schedule. Thankfully, the muse didn't insist my blogging be cohesive, or even on point. See ya next time around. Have a great day! 

Rayne Forrest

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Across Time for #MSS119 (My Sexy Saturday)

Welcome to another My Sexy Saturday. My Sexy Saturday is a weekly blog hop that brings you sexy excerpts from a wide variety of today's authors. This week I'm highlighting Across Time. Enjoy!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“I am dreaming.” He rolled over to face her. Her hair was mussed and her face flushed with sleep. She was beautiful. “You’re talking about something we did together.”

“You didn’t pack coffee then, so I figured you’d forget this time, too. Now get up and make a fire.”

“Nope. I’m not dreaming. She’s giving me orders.” Before Corri could answer, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her. He was awake now. Very awake.

She pushed against him, rolling him onto his back. His hands stroked down her spine and cupped her rounded bottom. She shifted to straddle him. His body throbbed all over. He got a little hurried in the mornings if he thought he was getting laid, and she knew it.

“No foreplay?” He thrust up as she slid down over the fullness of his erection. She smiled at him and rose until the tip of his cock was barely inside her. Then she slowly eased down again.

Again and again she gave him that devastating pleasure until he couldn’t keep from moaning aloud each time she rose over him. He reached for her breasts, and she batted his hands away.

“Go over for me, Devin. Let me watch you. I want to see it happen to you.” She tightened her inner walls around him. “Go over.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Across Time is available at Amber Quill Press
http://www.amberquill.com/store/p/1954-Across-Time.aspx

More about Across Time:

Corri Dunn’s mission to distant Adhara VII begins on a downhill slide. Not only have her superiors withheld vital information, but Devin Tremaine knows what it is. Corri must face Devin, and what happened between them five years ago, or lose her command. Confronting the truth means facing the fact she still loves Devin. She wants him back in her life, and her bed, but she has to complete her assignment first.

Devin Tremaine made one big mistake in his life—he lost Corri Dunn when she needed his understanding and he couldn’t give it. Now they’re both at Adhara VII, caught in a web of deceit—and renewed passion. Corri’s been sent into a trap and he’s the only one who can save her.

The secrets of Adhara VII unlock their past, present and a future fast unraveling. To survive, Corri and Devin must make a leap of faith—across time.


 Be sure to visit all the My Sexy Saturday blogs using the list below.

Rayne Forrest
rayneforrest.blogspot.com
twitter.com/rayneforrest

IWSG- Try a Little Tenderness

The Insecure Writer’s Support Group

http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com

Ooh, she may be weary, young girls they do get weary…

I’m dating myself with a song reference from Three Dog Night. It was a big hit in 1969, and is actually on my “car” playlist. Is it because I get weary? Probably.

There’s a good kind of weary you get when you play hard, or even work hard at something you enjoy. It’s the kind of weary that makes you happy and grateful. You fall into bed at the end of the day with a smile on your face.

But there’s a different kind of weary, the kind you get when confronted by the worst of life. Funerals, divorce, illness, friendships gone awry, betrayal. There’s not a lot to cure that kind of weary, only time.

We’ve all been on both sides and when bad things happen, and we’re searching for answers, I think we forgot one important thing. We forget to be kind to ourselves. Instead, we blame ourselves and try to push through being weary to do more.

It’s nearly impossible to write your best prose when weariness sets in. Sure, some people can really tap into how bad they feel and spew it all over the page. It’s not something I like to read so I don’t do it. If I’m exhausted, I try a little tenderness on myself.

I’m not afraid to turn off the computer and rest. When I need it, I take time to get my head back on straight. I’ve learned that if I want to write a good story, I’ve got to take care of myself. And I learned it the hard way when my husband had cancer, so I’m not just pontificating.

It’s important to me to do the best I can on each story. I’ve found that if I stay tapped in to how I’m feeling, I write better. I plot better. I set the scene better. It really pains me to spend an evening writing only to have to go back the next night and delete what I wrote. It doesn’t happen often because I’ve learned an important truth - weary doesn’t make for a good writer.

Rayne

www.rayneforrest.com

www.twitter.com/rayneforrest