Good Riddance

Yesterday, I was talking to a sweetheart of a girl at my gym about dating. She was twenty-nine and had yet to find that man of her dreams. Like I had been in my dating days, she was picky and no one had met her standards. Ooh that brought back some memories. How many dates had I been on that ended with me shaking my head for how horrible they went? Too many to count.

Let’s see, my first worst date was early in college when I went on a swim date with this kid. He “played” more with his male buddy in the pool than me. In fact, the other guy’s date or girlfriend that was there and I even started chatting and asking each other if they were gay and we were there for cover up.

Who knows, but can you say awkward….bro

In another blog article about kissing, a few years back, I wrote about feeling so sick after one date, that I had to call it quits before we got to the movie we were going to attend. I’m allergic to dairy, so whatever I ate must’ve had some kind of hidden cheese or milk, and I was doubled over with stomach pains. They gave me chills and I couldn’t handle moving on to the second half of the date, so since I drove (he lived on campus, and didn’t have a car. I did.) I brought him back to the dorms and said good night, apologizing for cutting our time short.  tumblr_lzx1vxsyf31qg39ewo1_500The jerk then still felt the need to get a good night kiss in, and slobberingly kissed me, including full tongue action. Gah! I wanted to gag, and shoved him away. He didn’t even have a chance to shut the door before I pulled out of the parking lot. Really, the nerve of him. Needless to say, he did not get a second date, and I yelled at him so badly the next day that he even dropped the class we had together. Good riddance!

In between those days and the next one I’m going to mention, were some good ones, and I had met some really nice guys, but still none of them had the forever quality. Connecticut, where I was raised, was just too small for my liking and I chose to move to San Diego, California for law school. And boy how those guys were different than the conservative Connecticuters I’d met before. First of all, there are the surfer dudes. They’re nice, relaxed, laid back, but weed is a constant vice. No thanks. Secondly, the law school guys–they were cunning and manipulative. I had one date me for my notes. Yep, he had a completely faked interest in me, but he sure liked how I could summarize case histories. Loser. And way too many of them, just wanted what every twenty-something year old guy wants, and I was not that kind of a girl. (Not yet at least. haha!)

sog_s37-k_2Thirdly, there were the Navy guys. Mmmm men in uniform. I met this one guy, I don’t even remember his name now, but he was hot. Dark cropped hair, big brown eyes, muscular, tall…and he was training to be a Navy SEAL. We had decided to go out on a weeknight, which meant that we had both had classes the next day, so we ate in. I made lasagna and spread our homework out on the dining room table. (Oh I should mention, I lived in a house with five other roommates, and I wasn’t alone, so I felt comfortable inviting him over with other people around.) I had my law school work, and he had a Navy textbook. Everything was going well, there was laughing and flirting, and then the ball had to drop… or to be more specific the seven inch SOG SEAL diving knife, which he so casually started sharpening at the table. Talk about uncomfortable. I realize it was normal for him, but the more I thought about it, the more I was like, no way…this is a first date and he’s digging out blades that could kill me with one flick of the wrist. Yeah, a second date never happened, and I was pretty glad. I could only imagine what he would have brought next… a Colt .45?

Shortly after the Navy SEAL, I met the man of my dreams, my now husband…here is the actual excerpt from my journal a week after I met him:

My dream of finding that “cave man”* was never so strong and so far away at the same time. I remember one morning just crying (it was a Wednesday morning), that I wanted the perfect man and I thought, what makes me want the perfect man, and then I realized it and said it aloud, “My father would never say anything like derogatory to my mom,” or any woman for the matter. I cried harder and was so saddened throughout the rest of the day. That is until Kung Fu that night. I was tying my sash when I turned to see a new face coming through the door. I did a double take because I saw a guy that had such a cute face and great smile.

Throughout the night we talked during class, he was also a white sash. His name is Jon and that night he changed my idea that there aren’t any more nice guys around anymore. I saw him the next night and the following and the following night as well. 4 nights in a row now. Each night was the equivalent of months at a time. 

He’s polite, kind, doesn’t unnecessarily swear, doesn’t drink or smoke, and is understanding, independent, but wants a security as we’ll, it’s engrained in him to be a gentleman. He listens to normal, fun music, likes the same movies as I do, is caring and considerate to feelings. And from watching him at work, he’s great with kids–he played magic trick with them during dinner. Most of all he wants a relationship that is open and honest and is full of caring that is not based on sex. It’s not the first thing on his mind and it’s so refreshing. He really likes me a lot too. I just hope and pray that this is it–the end of searching. The end of being lonely. 
P.S. On Monday, 5.2.2000 Jon asked if we could be a couple. I have a boyfriend now!!

Alright so I was pretty cheesy, but still, it was the end of the those days of searching, and those days of crappy dates and crazy guys.

Now, I know there are some of you out there that have some great stories to go with these. Share in the comments your worst date experiences, and we can vent together!

 

 

*cave men is a theory I have that there is this island where only the very best men are cultivated. They are a man’s man, but love their wives, and children like the breath in their lungs and more. I have a vision that when they are ready they emerge from this cave and the one girl who gets them is most lucky of all the women. There are very few that come from this cave, and that’s why there are so very few men like this out there. It’s the things I told myself during my lonely days

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Falling for Phoenix Ebook Cover1

Read Eryn’s latest book in the

Falling for Heroes Series: Falling for Phoenix

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And catch up on the first two books Falling for Shock and Falling for Freedom in the Falling for Heroes Boxset at the low price of $3.99. Two books for the price of one!

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LIES

“Thou shalt not bear false witness…”

Yeah, we all know it, we shouldn’t lie. Courts make us swear in before witnessing; being truthful is part of the wedding vows, but we still do it, don’t we? From telling a new mom with an baby who’s nose is bigger than her face, that her kid is adorable to coughing over the phone to one’s boss just to get a day of peace away from work, we tell lies. Some are harmless, some are detrimental, and yeah, some are fun.

I’m a storyteller; a writer, and an Irish woman – I can tell some really good lies. I’m not bragging nor condoning lying, but I feel the need to confess and tell some of my better “stories” I have convinced others to believe. There are two that are very specific in my mind and if you went to school with me, I am so very, very sorry.

All right, here’s the first one. Father forgive me, I have sinned…I was in the 6th grade. I didn’t have that many friends. I was quiet and shy and probably wanted attention, so I concocted this story about how Tony Danza was my mother’s brother. Yes, my almost 100% Boston, Irish mother’s New York, Italian brother. (I must have been desperate).20080706-whos-the-bossWho’s the Boss was a popular television show at the time and I loved it. I used to emulate Alyssa Milano and sometimes even call myself Samantha. I don’t remember how it came up, but I decided to try out calling Tony Danza my uncle. Some kids believed me, some didn’t, some had reservations, but I became the girl who was saying that I had famous uncle. I even went so far as to bring in a picture of my own uncle, my father’s brother – since my mother has all sisters, where he wasn’t facing the camera and call him “Uncle Tony”.

I carried this “story” until summer break and then told just a few very close friends that it wasn’t true. The hype eventually simmered  and by 7th grade no one cared. Still, though, I do get the very random person asking if it was true that Tony Danza was my uncle and I have to laugh and say, No, I was stupid kid.

My other huge whopper of a tale was later in high school, when my younger sisters were in middle school. There was this one girl-let’s call her Hannah, since I’m pretty sure she’s on my sister’s Facebook page somewhere- Hannah was this showy, pretentious, spoiled brat that gave my sisters hard times all the time. She would brag about her uncle, who was an actual actor-let’s call him Jack- and was in many different movies and television shows (still is for that matter). Hannah would go on and on about how she met this celebrity or that celebrity, and Uncle Jack this and that. We wanted to take her down a peg.

a13043358-25At the time, Uncle Jack happened to have a small part in the movie Far and Away, starring Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, who both lived in Connecticut about forty minutes from our hometown of Brookfield. So one day Hannah had gone on and on about Far and Away and Uncle Jack, that we decided to play with her and I call her pretending to be Nicole Kidman. Mind you this was before caller ID, so Hannah had zero clue who was actually calling her.

I have a pretty good knack for accents and put on my best Australian saying, “Hello, Hannah, it’s Nicole, your uncle gave me your phone number. Tom and malice_1993_3121687kI would love to invite  you to see the premiere of Far and Away with us in New York later this week.”
The poor, oblivious girl was excited and squealing. I think I even spoke with her mom too, who bought it, and I promised a limousine would pick her up on Friday at 7.

The next day, Hannah was bragging her little heart out to the whole school, especially to my sisters, sticking her haughty nose in the air about her call from Nicole Kidman. My sisters could only snicker in silence knowing not one word was true.

Now, we couldn’t go on letting Hannah think she was going to a movie premiere, so on Friday “Nicole” had a cold and said they were going to have postpone the premiere, thus ending the charade. I’m pretty sure my sisters told Hannah that it was me later on, but it certainly was fun. It might have taught the girl a lesson too, about what trouble one can get into bragging so much.

pinnochioSo those were my two favorite tales that I’ve spun in my lifetime. Tell me some of yours in the comments.

I’d love to hear the best lies, white lies, or long cons you’ve created in your lifetime. 

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Falling for Phoenix Ebook Cover1

Read Eryn’s latest book in the

Falling for Heroes Series: Falling for Phoenix

falling-for-heroes-box-set

And catch up on the first two books Falling for Shock and Falling for Freedom in the Falling for Heroes Boxset at the low price of $3.99. Two books for the price of one!

To Free Dopey: A Short Fanfiction Story

Last season premiere of  Once Upon a Time the dear dwarf Dopey, a personal favorite of mine, was cursed by becoming a tree as soon as he crossed the town line. He was mentioned a few times, but never freed. Since that season ended, and there was no resolving of Dopey’s limbed and leafed fate, I thought I’d set him free myself. This was written on June 24, 2016. Enjoy my Oncer fans–Enjoy.

dopey-the-tree

TO FREE DOPEY

Knock knock knock…

What was that? Emma questioned, waking from a sound sleep. She turned toward her bedside reading 6:22 on the clock. Who the hell would be coming over this early, she thought and detangled herself from her slumbering pirate.

Knock knock knock…ding ding…

 Slipping on a robe, she shouted, “Coming!”

Killian stirred. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Someone’s at the door. I’ll be right back.”

He grumbled something incoherent, and rolled over, as Emma dashed down the stairs to the front door. The knocks came again, but this time she was there to greet whoever was on the other side. “What is so seri—“

She stopped herself, lowering her eyes to a small child at her feet. She was a tiny girl, maybe three-foot tall, but age-wise looked to be about six or seven years old with big brown eyes, and a thick, bouncy dark curls. She’d never seen her before at any of the town gatherings or even at Henry’s school. “Hello there. Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Avia, and I need you to save my papa.”

Emma knelt to the little girl’s height. “Who’s your father? Is he hurt?”

Avia shook her head from side to side. “No. You cursed him.”

Taken aback, Emma gasped. “I did? When?” Sure she was the Dark One not but six weeks ago, and she thought she’d corrected most of the mistakes she created. She certainly didn’t remember cursing anyone.

The little girl sniffed. “You did. Mama, said you did. My papa was chosen to cross the town border and he was turned into a tree.”

Oh. That curse. A cold hand of guilt settled on Emma’s shoulders. She didn’t know someone actually tried to leave and got caught. No one told her. Awful didn’t begin to explain how she felt about what she’d done. Reaching out to Avia, she soothed her with a light caress to her upper arms. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll help him right now. Where’s your mother?”

Avia pointed toward the woods.

“Does she know you’re here?”

“No. She told me not to bother you. She said you might be evil.”

“Oh no, sweetie. I’m not evil. That part is all gone.” Emma stood and gathered Avia’s hand. “Come on in. I’ll get dressed and we’ll go to your mother first before freeing your father.”

Feeding Avia some toast and jam, Emma left her in the kitchen watching cartoons while she dressed. Killian had woken while she was with the child and was now fully clothed, snapping on his hook. “I heard. I’ll go with you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Thanks. I’ll be right down. Don’t scare her with that, okay?”

“Impossible. Children love me,” he said all too cocky for the early morning, and left Emma to dress.

Moments later, they were trekking through the woods until they came upon a small hovel hidden deep in the dense Maine foliage. “Is this your home?” Emma asked Avia.

Her head bobbed in place with a huge grin growing on her face. “Mama!” she called out and immediately a tiny woman, as round as can be with flushed, rosy cheeks and long auburn curls swept up in a ponytail, shuffled outside.

“Avia! Where have you been? I’ve been worr—“ she paused, seeing Emma and Killian behind her daughter. “Get inside, now, daughter.” Fright etched the lines of her face.

“We mean no harm. The darkness has left us both. Please, we want to help. Avia came to me telling me your husband was trapped,” Emma explained, holding up her hands, showing the frightened woman she was unarmed.

“She did?”

Emma nodded. “I didn’t know. And I’d like to help.”

Slowly, the woman’s face softened. Tears glistened her eyes. “Thank you.”

 

The woman, who introduced herself as Wren, led them to the town’s line where a small tree grew right in the middle of the road. The branches were drooping, and leaves hanging low and curling in the hot summer sun. There was no water source, no nourishment feeding into the trunk from its roots lodged in asphalt and not rich soil beneath. What had she done? The man was dying, neglected, and abandoned here to die, and it was all her fault.

Sniffing back the sorrow for the poor person, who neither his wife or daughter mentioned who he was, Emma stood back from the orange line painted on the ground and aimed her hands high, concentrating on her inner magic. She closed her eyes, letting the magic flow through her, gaining charge until it filled her from the tips of her toes to her shaking fingers. Then in one powerful shot, she let go, breaking the curse from the town line. Crystals dissolved mid-air, sending the invisible barrier fluttering to the ground. With a wave of her hands to the left, she blasted the left over bits of the curse far away, where it would dissipate into the sky.

The tree shimmered and lit up the area around them in a bright yellow light. Leaves fell to the ground, branches circled inward, and little by little the trunk peeled away, revealing the shape of a man. A small man. A dwarf? Emma’s jaw unhinged. “Dopey?”

Wren and Avia were at his side the moment Dopey was once again in human form. He stretched his limbs and cocked his neck from side to side before a smile split his face in two. His wife kissed him, and he kissed her with all the exuberance they could show one another.

Killian slipped his hand around Emma’s waist, leaning into her ear. “Dwarves have wives?”

“I guess so,” Emma said, just as surprised as he was.

Dopey scooped Avia up in his arms, squeezing her with all his might. “Papa, Emma freed you.”

He set the little girl down and skipped his way over to Emma, slipping his beanie off his head to kiss her cheek. His way of saying, thank you. Emma, in turn, felt her face flush and giggled.

Dopey stood up straight, once again picked up his daughter, and reached for Wren’s hand, but not before he held one finger against his lips.

Emma took this to mean, keep his family a secret, and she nodded, drawing an invisible zipper across her lips.

Dopey smiled, and with his family surrounding him, they walked into the woods as happy as can be.

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In dedication to actor Jeffrey Kaiser and his adorable, lovable, and excellent portrayal of Dopey.

 

 

Love of the Land

Gerald O’Hara: Do you mean to tell me, Katie Scarlett O’Hara, that Tara, that land doesn’t mean anything to you? Why, land is the only thing in the world worth workin’ for, worth fightin’ for, worth dyin’ for, because it’s the only thing that lasts.

Scarlett O’Hara: Oh Pa, you talk like an Irishman.

Gerald O’Hara: It’s proud I am that I’m Irish, and don’t you be forgetting, missy, that you’re half Irish, too. And to anyone with a drop of Irish blood in them, why the land they live on is their mother. It will come to you, this love of the land. There’s no gettin’ away from it if you’re Irish

The quote above is from the classic movie Gone with the Wind, one of my all time favorite movies since I was eight years old. And this quote has always been one that has stood out to me as the half-Irish lass I am. I hold many things dear in my life…my family, my friends, my books, but none speak to me as much as land.

More than several times I have walked historical fields and felt the history of the those who came before me. I know it sounds strange and I’m not normally a metaphysical person at all, but I do  believe that you can sense things from the certain places. My first instance of this happened when I was a little girl first visiting the Lexington battle grounds, in Massachusetts, where the first shot of the Revolutionary War was fired. It was probably my imagination, but I swore I could hear cannons and wails of those who perished. I remember feeling an eerie wave of sadness, and shivers connecting with the land beneath my feet.

The second time I felt this same eerie wave was in Washington, D.C. on the mall between the Washington Monument and Congress building. I was only ten or eleven, but the same kind of thing happened, I started wondering how many vastly historic figures stood right on the same spot where I was. In my mind’s eye, I saw men in bowler hats and fedoras, and women in long, bustled skirts, crossing the very paths I was on.

Since then, this same thing has happened over and over again, but none as emotional as visiting Salem, Massachusetts. Stepping into the small town, where once everyday people were condemned to death as witches and warlocks, I began to shake with fear and nervousness. There was an oppression there I had never felt before, tearing at my soul to the point where I couldn’t help but cry. I remember crying to a friend who was with me and saying, I didn’t know why I was so upset. My spirit was bothered, and I think it was because of so many who had panicked and were killed on that very land.

It wasn’t long after I had visited Salem, I started a strange collection. A collection of rocks, dirt, sand, and even water from all over. I have sand from Mykonos, Greece; rocks from the Grand Canyon, Arizona; water from the Jordan River; sand from Saudi Arabia; rocks from Brighton Beach, UK… and so many other places around the world. Today though, I received the land of my ancestors – dirt and rocks from the Cliff of Mohr, in Ireland! My people, my land! And all thanks to a dear friend of mine, Gabrielle Morgan. You don’t know how much this means to me. It inspired me to write this today and recall those beautiful words from Gone with the Wind. Thank you so much for bringing me closer to land in which my blood began to flow.

14348875_10208781037855598_109811461_n-2…And to anyone with a drop of Irish blood in them, why the land they live on is their mother.

 

 

Follow The Yellow Book Road

Follow the Yellow Book Road

Good morning everyone!

As many of you already know, I have decided to separate my Spotlight and Book Reviews to another website. This will just be a lot easier for everyone and make the new place dedicated solely to authors and their books, without it being interlaced with my personal work.

I’m still working out the kinks but here it is – The Yellow Book Road 

Thank you so much for helping me launch this new site and hopefully it will be a place where new authors can be seen and readers will find new books to fall in love with.