A whole lot of nothing....

I am exhausted. I was up all night writing lines on a blackboard with chalk –

People are not that - but who

I will not split infinitives

I wrote them over and over. What? I have been doing edits. Yes, I have driven my editor to drink and chocolate over them, once more. In my defence, I would again like to point out that it’s all Captain James T Kirk's, from Star Trek, fault. I loved the original series when I was a kid. I grew up on “To boldly go where no man has gone before.” So it’s his fault that I split infinitives. The who/that thing is my own and I will get it tattooed on my forehead to remind me. Once again – apologies to my editor…I hope you dry out soon. Writers may write the words but Editors make them legible….then the cover artists give us a hot cover and the publisher does the rest and we just sit and try and look like we know what we’re doing…it’s all smoke and mirrors being a writer.

I sent an email at work today – a work one about work stuff. This is unusual for me as I tend to use work email for personal stuff. But there is it – proof I do work at work when I have to. Anyway I wrote the line “please see ass attached.” Email back was “what ass and where?” Now I am blaming this on the fact that I have to write in American spelling for my books. Okay, it’s a crap excuse but there it is. I emailed the recipient back and said ‘unable to provide ass at this time.” She emailed back and asked for a raincheck and I agreed.

Also at work...I have been in chuck out mode. I am extremely ruthless when to comes to culling stuff that does not belong to me. I also believe paper records that are 10 years old and have stuff all to do with anything must go. I am like the Terminator at the moment. Ethel is similar but she throws anything and everything out because she does not like to file. Any office she works in will not have files when she works there. Why? She shreds them. Why? She does not want to break her nails – I kid you not. She is also very good at looking vague when someone asks her where the files are…'what files?’

It was freezing in Brizzie this morning. Okay, maybe not freezing cold as you would know it but bloody cold and we all whined about it. We are very lucky. Our sub-tropical climate is exceptionally good and remains pretty fine all year round. But every time winter approaches and it gets the slightest bit nippy – we whine and put on 5 layers of clothes. It’s not like we’re not aware that it’s autumn – it’s more that we refuse to believe it. Brisbane is in the Sunshine state – in Queensland. We banana benders expect sun and sun means warmth.

Speaking of luck - I am incredibly lucky. I had my ultra sound thingy today and the lumps were just cysts. Whew. I must say though that I have never had so many people wanting to look at my breasts – and not for reasons of passion. One of the doctors said in an annoyed tone, “Hmm, you have a large amount of breast tissue.” He looked quite cross about it. I said something along the lines of “terribly sorry and how inconvenient for you.” Another said, in a vague tone – while I was topless - ‘And what do we have here?’ I burst out laughing. What do you think these are mate? And if you have to ask you ain’t touching me. Anyway, I am okay – but many are not and we need to remember that. Once more – I urge anyone who has not had a mammogram and is putting it off to go and do it. It could save your life. On the way out I donated money to the Cancer fund. I just want to believe that even a small amount may help someone somewhere. My mother died of cancer. I want to believe we will cure it one day. Think about donating to a cause you believe in – even a small amount helps. There but for the grace of fate go I…

I have made a list for when I go grocery shopping next. This is big for me. I never write a list as I choose to believe I have this fabulous ability to remember what I have run out of at home. I don’t. I usually end up buying stuff I already have – like last week – and I’ll eat the same thing – tuna - over and over again to use it up. This is okay with me as I live alone and can do what I like. I expect if I was living with someone they would be a tad pissed at tuna every night. But then again, I would have them trained to accept my way or else. I am a simple creature. My word is law at Chez Amarinda…I am a bit of over tuna though.

Well, that’s it – nothing happening of any note in my life but I have managed to waffle on about the amazingness of nothingess once more. Check out the blogs to the left. There are many talented people with stuff to say – like Anny and Kelly.

A quick peak at what I was editing last night – Penned Again…coming soon from Ellora’s Cave…adult excerpt
It was such a long time since Arlo Ripley had felt the closeness of another’s skin again hers. She curled against the warm, male body and gave herself up to the dream she was having. Her hand touched the hard, hair roughened chest and luxuriant heat radiated through her arm and down her body. It was heaven to touch him once more. She had missed him so much. Him? Penn? Her eyes snapped open in shock.
“You!” Arlo jerked her hand away as she looked at the naked man in her bed. There was just enough light to see the deep green eyes of Pendleton Ripley. He had not changed one whit. Same dark, wavy hair, kissable mouth and a body to collapse against in need and hunger. And he was naked. Whoa! Too many memories there. She rolled away as fast and as far away as she could.
“Hi honey, I’m home,” Penn murmured as he reached out and pulled his wife back against him.
“Holy fucking hell, what are you doing here?” Arlo struggled to break free from his hold. To do that, she had to touch him and he felt so good to her Penn-starved senses. Six months without touching him had been torture.
“I came to see you.”
“Oh piss off.” She slapped his chest in derision. Remember you hate him and he is a lying swine. Okay I can do this.
Penn’s finger gently traced the curve of her lips.
“I missed you, my beloved.”
Oh crap. Penn was using “beloved” in that deep, husky voice he knew turned her on. Arlo closed her legs together tightly. He is back for a reason and that reason may not suit you. Be strong and don’t get sucked in again.
Arlo Ripley had endured six of the most horrible months of her life. It was like she was on a continual mood swing and it was all because of her husband—the demon. I married a demon. It still seemed bizarre to her. It was more like something out of a 1950s schlock black and white movie. But it had happened and it still irritated her no end that Penn had not told her the truth. Honesty was as important as love to Arlo. That he did not tell her everything smacked at her self-esteem. During their separation she had railed against him, the unfairness of it all and wondered if love was really worth the hassle. Sure, she was lonely without Penn but at least she knew where she stood.
“What do you want?” Though his cock pressing against her thigh was a very good indication of where his mind was at. It was so long since she’d had sex. The feel of that life force pushing against her made her remember the last, delicious time she had touched and tasted him. She still remembered the feeling of her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she came. Then Penn had gone and broken her heart. Bastard. Well not again.
“I’m naked, you’re naked—what do you think I want?” Penn smiled at her knowingly.
I think I really need you now and I hate myself for being so weak.
“I think you’ve run out of clean clothes and want me to do your washing.” Arlo always slept naked. She liked the sensual feel of the fine cotton sheets on her skin. However at that moment she wished she had on a granny nightdress as her bare skin so close to his was like holding a lit match to paper. Penn could make her hot with just one look and he looked mighty good to her famished senses. She ran her eyes over the length of his lean, strong body, stopping at the black, elaborate phoenix tattoo on his lower stomach. It had always turned her on. Her mouth watered. He still had the ability to take her breath away.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Insert sex here…

I am in the middle of writing a book. It follows on from Tantalizing Tilly – which follows on from Penned Again which follows on from Anyone But You. Did I plan it that way? No – it just happened. These characters wandered into the story and I thought I like them. I don’t know about most authors but I don’t write in any scheduled, disciplined manner. I may start at the beginning or the middle or the end. I constantly criss-cross back and forward over paragraphs when I get stuck or if I come home from work and I have thought up something, usually at the traffic lights, that should go in Chapter 7 when I am only in Chapter 4. I also have the habit of writing the dialogue first and the story around it – the sex comes last. I know – how is that possible when there are some non erotic writers who think erotic writers build the story around

sex? Maybe some do – I don’t. Maybe some people should not tar every one with the same brush. So I write a stream of dialogue and then every so often I write the words ‘sex here’ because I think that would be an excellent moment for the hero and heroine to have sex. Then I go back and write in the sex. Yeah, it’s evidence of the chaos theory once more. My editor is now going, “That’s why her submissions are so shambolic.”

How hard is it to write sex? I have been discussing this with an aspiring writer. She has the stuff to write a scorcher of a book and I want to see her finish it. However it is hard to start off writing explicit sex when you never have. I think it’s because as girls we are taught certain ways of behaviour and as women we have a particular moral code. Also sex is so general. Let’s face it everyone has there ideas on what is great sex. How do you write a romance novel with sizzling sex that will appeal to all readers? Well, you can’t. Not everyone is going to like what you write so that’s rule number one. Get over yourself. Some people will never like what you write – move on. Rule number 2, on the

Amarinda scale, is it’s all about fantasy. I believe women want to read about this fantastic man who sees only beauty in the heroine and will do anything to please her. You gotta love a man like that. Rule 3 – be yourself. I you don’t want to write ménage as it makes you uncomfortable or it’s too hard to work out whose parts go where – then don’t. If writing submissive romance makes you want to slap the hero of your book then maybe it’s not for you. Write what you believe. I reckon that’s what makes others want to read your book – it’s believable or it could happen. People will easily tell you if your books suck and why…let’s call that rule 4. If they do – listen to what they are saying. They may be right in some way and yeah, maybe you can do better. Or if you believe in your heart they are wrong, then learn to develop a very thick skin and stand by what you believe in. Last Amarinda theory – try – if you don’t have a go and submit what you believe is your best work then you will never bloody know what could be. Put it out there – er, the book – not the sex.

Five fast ones with talented Ellora’s Cave author Taylor Tryst – click on the cover to buy

1. What star sign are you? Name one fabulous characteristic of this sign.

Pisces. Creativity, when it’s actually working. :}
I’m about to fire my muse.

2. If your book was made into a movie who would play the hero and heroine?

I’ve always imagined Angelina Jolie playing my heroine. She tough, strong and very sexual in nature. The hair, the lips, the bod…who could ask for more.

Ever since Buffy, Angel, and Bones, I’ve admired David Boreanaz. Talk about hot and brooding. MMMM--MMMMM. He’s total eye candy.

3. My favorite food is….because….

That’s easy. Mexican food is my favorite food, because I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona and ate it constantly. I miss it every day. You just don’t find good, authentic Mexican food in Minnesota. I’ve even imagined opening a Mexican Food restaurant here.

4. If I was in charge of the world I would….

Be certain that military veterans receive all of the benefits that they deserve and that trainees in boot camp or basic training have advocates, are properly treated, and receive appropriate medical care.

5. Name your special talent.

I think I have a talent for relating to other people and animals on an emotional level. I’ve always been able to empathize and care deeply about other people’s emotions and the tragedies that might affect their lives. I also love animals and can’t imagine not having them as a part of my life. We have 5 horses, too many cats to mention, dogs, and a new litter of baby kittens. We’ve also rescued several lost dogs and cared for them until they were returned to their owners or taken to the animal shelter.

Leather and Lace By Taylor Tryst

Ex-cop turned private investigator Cleo Tanek receives a mysterious request to follow and document billionaire Lukas Nathanial Lace's every move. What she soon discovers, however, is that Lace has been marked for death and that the information she provided will assist in carrying out his murder.

Unable to control the desperate heat that ignites between them, they succumb to a night of hot, passionate sex. Cleo then learns that her mysterious client is a senator whom she believes ordered the hit. She must tell Luke the truth, keep him alive and somehow blow the senator out of the water.

With a fetish for leather and handcuffs, and the need to be in control, Cleo is fascinated by her irrepressible urge to submit to Lace's every whim, and the dominant role he assumes over her body, mind and soul. Cleo discovers that leather and lace is a deadly combination.

Leather and Lace - The excerpt – be warned – this is an adult excerpt

Cleo was so wet, and as they stumbled up the staircase, their fingers interlaced, she was unable to tear her mouth from his. He was like fire, and the worst of it was that she wanted to be burned.
His flesh was hot to the touch, and his mouth, dear God in heaven, thank you for that amazing mouth.
Exploring, sampling, taunting. She wondered if he tasted this delicious all over and desperately hoped she’d find out.
He stepped into the living room, heading for a black leather sofa and reaching up to loosen his tie.
“No,” Cleo scolded. “Don’t.” She knocked his hand away. She wanted to be the one who undressed him, wanted to be the one in control.
She was always in control and didn’t plan to give it up anytime soon. It was how she’d stayed alive in her line of work. How she kept her heart from being broken for so many years.

Though part of her wanted to give this man everything, to allow him to control her, her mind screamed out, demanding that she employ the only survival method that had worked all of these years.
If she was going to do this, she decided, she planned to enjoy the hell out of it and do it her way.
“Sit,” Cleo demanded, motioning Luke toward her black leather sofa.
Luke was so prim and proper in his expensive suit and those designer shoes. She wanted to tear away the layers of control that he prided himself in, and draw out the real Lukas Lace.
Oh, he checked that shit, all right. He was certain to keep it hidden, to keep his emotions hidden behind lock and key and hide what he really wanted from everyone.
He spent his entire life doing what his father had wanted him to do and being polite and proper, as his mother had required. Business and etiquette classes by age ten. He was a fine young man.
He was the perfect son, the perfect boss and the perfect executive but Cleo needed to be the one woman who drove him over the edge. The one woman who helped him break all of those stuffy rules.
In her book, rules didn’t apply.
Cleo had a desperate desire to peel off those clothes the minute she’d seen him. To ruin that good-boy image he so dutifully portrayed. She put her foot on the arm of the couch and bent forward to unbuckle her stiletto.
“No,” Luke said, shaking his head. “Don’t.”
Oh, Mr. Lace wanted to play. Cleo smiled wickedly. She was very good at playing games.
“I said sit,” she countered. He reached for her wrist but she palmed his chest and gave him a shove. She pushed him back into the sofa and bit her bottom lip.
She wasn’t one of his minions.
She wasn’t one of the women who threw themselves at his feet. She would do as she pleased and he would like it.
She’d see to that.
“I’ll come,” he warned her as she straddled his lap and he hissed as if in physical pain. He ran his palms over her thighs.
“You’re so hard,” Cleo whispered, grinding against his cock.
“I want you,” he growled. “I can’t remember the last time I wanted anyone like this.” He tugged on her hair, pulling her head back and leaning in to kiss her neck.
Cleo moaned as his lips found her bare skin.
“Maybe never,” he told her.
Cleo pulled back and nipped his lower lip, staring boldly into his eyes, eyes that were flickering with blue flame.
She grasped his face between her palms and shoved her tongue into his mouth.
The kiss was deep and fast, hard and thorough. Panting, gasping for air, they consumed, feeding off one another as if giving life.
Cleo ground her hips against the bulge in his pants. Hearts racing, she lost all conscious thought.
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph—” Luke tore his mouth from hers. He squeezed her hips, trying to get control.
If this kept up, he definitely wouldn’t last more than five seconds. He was a grown man, for God’s sake, not some pubescent teen on his first date.
Premature ejaculation wasn’t something he’d had to consider since Rebecca Ross in junior high. Not even then, when the mere sight of female flesh sent him over the edge, had he been so out of control, reacted so primitively.
Luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He attempted to ignore the rock-hard boner that was trying to pull an Incredible Hulk and rip its way out of his pants.
It had been too long since he’d had sex and this woman was unlike any he’d ever encountered. Couldn’t even be compared.
It was as if there had been no one before and there’d be no one after, for either of them.
The air filled with her flowery scent and he ran his hands down the long arch of her back and to the slope of her ass.
The moment he’d laid eyes on her in the lobby of his office building that morning—and yes, he was certain it had been her—he’d felt the earth shift around him like there’d been a quake.
She’d disappeared in the crowd and now that he had found her, she wasn’t getting away.
Fate had brought them together. Luke never challenged fate.
Her skin was creamy, as pale as midnight moonlight and her features cut with razor-sharp angles that took her beauty to a whole new level.
She wasn’t a perfect ten with the thin, gaunt look a model was required to maintain. She didn’t have perfect bone structure and there was no delicacy there.
Only dramatic strength. From the slash of her cheekbones, to arched brows that framed her emerald eyes burning with flecks of gold and brown, she was all power and intensity.
Cleo reached down between them and ran her hand over the bulge in his pants, tracing the outline of his cock beneath the fine fabric of his suit.
“No—” Luke shuddered. He grabbed her by the wrist and shook his head, pleasure so powerful it was almost painful filling his body and soul. “I’ll come…”
He had to take control or this was finished and he’d disappoint her. Disappoint them both.
He released her and drove his hands through her glorious hair. He pulled her into him, bucking his hips and capturing her mouth with his for a punishing kiss.
God, he loved her hair, her amazing body, the taste of her mouth.
He drove his tongue against hers, battling to take control. Tasting, seeking and feeding off her succulent flavor.
Cleo nipped his bottom lip, fighting him for control. She was making a power play but she was failing to control the zone, Luke thought with a half-smile.
Luke slid his hands up her athletic thighs and gripped her hips, pulling her against his throbbing cock, dry-humping her.
“Bed?” he commanded. He stood so suddenly that she gasped. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he cupped her ass and held her against his cock.
No more teasing. He wanted to fuck her now. Had to have her. “Where…is…it?”
“Didn’t take you for the traditional type,” Cleo teased, grabbing his bottom lip between her teeth and biting.

www.taylortryst.com

Oh my…’just like to point out I bought the book after reading the excerpt alone….

Wanna’ see how real women work? Check out Redlines and Deadlines

Remember to go check Anny and Kelly for Anny and Kelly news.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Hmm...Monday...

Promptel sucks….yes, correct, I am back on an interim dial up service as Promptel – aka half arsed useless bastards – are once again having trouble trying to find their arses with their own hands and therefore my internet does not work. I will speak no more of it as it is so wearying…bring on May 10 when I am away from these fools

I had a major stress out last night. This is quite curious for me as I never stress out – no never. It’s just the way I am – that’s why I was quite annoyed I was losing the plot last night. Why? Many things apparently seemed to join together and just descend upon me. Worst thing was I had no chocolate in the house. Correction – I still have this god-knows-how-many-years-old bottle

of chocolate liqueur that someone gave me one xmas. I have never gotten around to drinking it
and I suspect it’s either gone off or it’s so potent it make kill me. Anyway, so I did this stressing thing. I told best friend Ethel about it during work today – we’re fairly sure this is why they give us work email so we can chat back and forward to each other. I think that’s nice of them. In return we turn up roughly on time, go home early as possible (set computer clock fifteen minutes ahead and look innocent if asked) and we allow them to pay us. Anyway…where was I? Yes, that’s right – stress attack – Ethel was gobsmacked. “You never stress out. Are you sure that’s what it was?” Ethel is an expert on stress – no really – I have seen her at the point of no return when only slapping her has helped. And you know it’s funny when people think you are never stressed as they don’t believe it when you are. What does one have to do to prove stress? “No, I’m sorry Amarinda, because you have never exhibited this symptom before it is considered impossible that you could be now.” Gotta laugh hey? Anyway I’m over it now and plan never to visit that again…too tiring and no one believes you anyway.

I heard on the news that they are looking at insuring unborn babies. Huh, you may say? Yes apparently you can insure against a miscarriage or some horrible disease happening to your unborn child. This means, so they said, that if you miscarry you can then claim X amount of dollars in compensation. Now, I’m certainly not the maternal type but can insurance companies go any lower? A very good friend of mine miscarried twice in a row. Needless to say she was devastated. I can hardly picture someone like her going – “Oh well, I lost the child but I can claim the $10,000 for the miscarriage." Excuse me, is it just me or is that incredibly insensitive, calculating and stupid? I refuse to believe normal, caring human beings would insure an unborn child.

There was this man in his car behind me at the traffic light on the way home. I was turning across traffic. I had missed the turning arrow so I knew I would have to wait for the next one. He clearly didn’t want me to. He kept edging his car closer to mine and flashing his light and beeping his horn in an effort to get me to drive and turn into oncoming traffic so he could then have his turn. I sat and ignored him because I’m not dying for some dickhead so he can get home two minutes earlier to drink a beer and play with himself. I refuse to be intimidated by bullies. Stick your horn in your ear mate.

I got a hand written letter from an old friend today in the mail. Remember when we used to write letters to each other? I know why we stopped. Technology? No, I could not understand a bloody word he had written because his handwriting was so bad. I emailed him and said – what?

I stopped to buy milk on the way home. Who cares you say? Exactly – but let me finish. I went into the convenience store which is still, not because it’s trendy, in 1960’s décor. It just has never changed. Anyway, I bought the milk and the owner said – “Do you want a snake?” No, you’re right, it’s not something you get asked often. Naturally I said no. What is the use of a snake in your home? Gee, can’t think of one. He smiled and reached under the Formica counter and I stepped back because to be honest it had been a shit of a day and the last thing I wanted to do was wrangle a snake. But there it was – actually several snakes. I looked in surprise, as you do. They looked completely harmless so I took a big orange one and bit its head off. It tasted good. What? They were candy snakes – big long ones. I walked out of the stored with it hanging out of my mouth, chomping on it and the world seemed to make a little more sense for a moment.

An Unbreakable – adult – moment – released May 30 as part of the Oh Yum series at Ellora’s Cave

“You’re going to film this too?” Bloody hell was she going to end up on the internet like some sad-assed middle-aged wanna-be suburban porn star? “Two cameras?”
“I want to catch every moment.” Dash adjusted the camera tripods to make sure the angle was right on each. “This is for our exclusive use, darlin’. I want us to look back on this when we are old and gray.” He switched the cameras on.
“I’m already going gray and this is just one week of my life.” He made it sounded like a long term commitment.
“Is it India?” Dash sat down beside her on the bed and trailed his hand down her body. “You’re very beautiful and infinitely fuckable.”
“Well fuck me then and get this over and done with.”
Dash chuckled and reached into the drawer he pulled the satin ties from.
“You don’t want a quick shag and neither do I.”
Yeah, actually I do.
India looked at what he held in his hand. It was a silver bullet and not the kind used to kill werewolves. He was going to put that in her and even if she could stop him she knew at that moment she wouldn’t.

Anny and Kelly are doing Anny and Kelly things – go look and be amazed.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Hmmm…what happened this Sunday?

In Amarindaland today…

- I woke up breathing this morning and considered that a bonus…that’s something positive to start the day off with.

- searched the front yard, in my pjs, for the newspaper. I found it in the fronds of the palm tree. Of course – the most logical place. Had to shake the palm to get it down. ‘Scared an early morning jogger in my beauteous flannelette state as I shook the tree. He almost stumbled and fell due to, I believe, my tousled (rats nest) hair and graceful beauty (old flannelette pjs, bed socks and my Tequila and Lime flip flops.) You either have it or you don’t. Jogger gulped and hurried along. Some men scare easily don’t they? You want they ones who don’t, but they’re the stuff of legends.


- I chatted on line, wrote lots, ate healthy and stopped for 5 minutes to contemplate by navel then I moved on.

- Looked at the television guide to reassure myself Robin Hood was on tonight only to find it is the last episode of Robin Hood – series 2. Sob. I rarely watch television but when I do there are some shows like RH and 24 – can’t think of any others - I refuse to miss. And now neither of them are going to be on. How does a cranky writer cope with such tragedy without breaking out the Tim Tams? I know the members of the The Armitage Army understand my angst.

- Had to explain to an acquaintance… er…let’s call her Rachel that an e-book is a book.
R -No it’s not. You can’t hold it in your hand.
A - Can you hold imagination in your hand?
R – Well no
A – But it exists?
B – Of course
A – So why is an e-book any different?
B – Well, because…it just is
A – Why?
B- Because, er books have pages.
A – E-books have page numbers
B – But you can’t turn them
A – Is it important to you to turn a page?
B – Well no
A – What’s your problem then?

E-book = book – hence how it has got ‘book’ at the end of the word. Now, if it was e-brick or e-shovel or an e-turnip then you could say – that’s not a book and I would have to agree with you. An e-book does become a print book. Hence the pretty covers we are given. It’s no less a book because it’s in
electronic form. People are no lesser people because they choose to buy and read it in electronic form as opposed to paper. Writers who have e-books out do not suddenly become ‘real’ writers when it goes into print. Reading is reading and books are books. If anyone would like to debate this topic with me by all means email me and I’ll be happy to argue the toss with you – but be prepared - I will win.

- I considered exercising but then decided the fact that I was breathing was more than enough proof of life to forgo exercise for a Sunday

- spoke to several people today who have lots of stuff going on in their lives. And you know what? It makes my own petty concerns seem trivial. Yes, another reality check for the week. They’re coming thick and fast at the moment.

- Look at the picture at the right. I saw this today and thought what the? I had to go back and look at it several times. What? Huh? What is it supposed to mean? It’s entitled Innocence is No Excuse and you can buy it on line at a very reputable poster place. First up – why would you take this photograph? Sure, it’s a woman in fish nets and yes there is a sexual edge to it. So why the toy rhino at her feet? Is this some existential crap that is beyond me? Please explain. Is it a joke? Who buys this stuff? And yes, I stopped long enough to look at it and wonder so I guess others would to. It was under the category of motivation> passion. Huh? This is motivating and passionate? Do women often have rhinos between their feet like this? Probably best if you don’t answer that as it would be way too much info. The legs I guess are the passion part. The toy rhino would be innocence. Is this some new trend? I bet that’s it. I bet that this is the new genre in romance writing. I suspect toy animals are going to morph into real life heroes and sweep women off their feet then go back to the toy box during the day and hang out with GI Joe after hot, sweaty romantic sex. I bet someone is writing the plot now as I speak. I can almost hear my editor’s head thump into the desk at the thought of receiving dozens of – well – I guess ‘were-toy’ manuscripts. I can see it now…

“Don’t toy with me, Priscilla.” The fluffy nylon pile on Renaldo’s back stood up in tension.

“But I can’t help it – you’re so small, cute and cuddly.” She caressed the fake fur avoiding the made in China tag stuck in the seam as it always snagged her ruby red nails

“Damn it, I want us to built a life together, Priscilla.”

“How can that be when we can only be man and woman at night? You’re world is in the toy box. You know I don’t fit in there – we tried. I still have the bruises from where the lid hit me in the head.”

“I have to find a way to break the ancient curse that keeps me from being a real man for you.”
Priscilla gasped. “But if you do that means you won’t be able to still go undercover and bust the drug ring at the toy store.”

Renaldo stamped his fluffy padded foot. “Oh cruel fate! Once again beloved we are kept apart.”

Once more I remind you to go check out Anny and Kelly’s blogs for daily enlighten.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Oh look! Bright, shiny things....

The greatest happiness you can have is knowing that you do not necessarily require happiness – William Saroyan

You know when you have those days that your mind is so preoccupied with stuff you have to contemplate that any bright, shiny object can attract you within seconds and set you on another course? I had that today. Anything and everything had my attention wandering all over the place. These are most useless days to me as nothing meaningful or profound comes out of them and you waste time…but that’s life huh?

The new fridge came this morning just as the old one gave up the ghost after 19 years…nothing lasts forever does it? It was almost as if it knew it no longer was needed. They took it away to rest at the old fridges retirement home and replaced it with a shining new whipper snapper one. Did I want the cardboard box it came in they asked? Er, no. The delivery guys told me most people keep them. Really, why? It’s a tall box that is not even good for packing things in because you have to cut it down – unless of course maybe you wanted to ship a person in it then I could see the point of it for packing – though there’s not a lot of call for that of course. But by all means correct me if I’m wrong. The guys asked if they could have it – sure – knock yourselves out. What are you going to do with it? The reply - All sorts of stuff. Okay, well there it is, I don’t have ‘stuff’ I only have things so I can see how I would have no use for the box. Stuff needs tall, useless boxes.

The fridge beeps annoyingly by the way if you have had the door open too long. What’s that about? I am the mistress of my own destiny not a bloody fridge and beeping at me is not going to get me to shut the door any faster - I will when I’d ready and no large white thing is going to change my mind. I would have got married years ago if that was the case.

By the way I have only 121 fridge magnets…I was strong and threw 30 out…not sure I have enough now.

I wandered out to buy a birthday gift. I’m very good at buying gift vouchers. I believe people would rather the money to buy what they want and besides most people pretty much know what gifts cost so it’s not like they are going to get all offended knowing the price of a voucher – well, those I know aren’t but I know some realistic types. While out I was forced to buy saturated fat -aka chips – some days you just need extra saturated fat to appease the call of the wild hormones. Yes, my body is a temple – but this is the off season and there’s no tourists visiting.

‘Had a long chat with Ethel this arvo. Isn’t it great when you can talk to someone who knows you and you don’t have to explain yourself, they just understand exactly where you are coming from? May everyone be blessed with a friendship like that. We have decided that we must win the $40 million lotto on Tuesday night. While people like to quote you that ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’ – you know what? We want to make up our own minds on that. Okay?

I was repairing some boot heels today with this handy dandy repair kit I have for shoes. For a moment it occurred to me that I could just buy another pair and chuck those ones out instead of fixing the heels and getting glue everywhere - but that’s another story - and yet I remember a time when I would not have contemplated doing that as I had no money. You are often your past. I’m not a tightwad with money but you remember the years when you had no money, don't you? I do. I prefer not to go backwards.

A blog reader asked me what the chaos theory was as apparently I mention it a bit. Do I? Could be I like to live in chaos as I feel one with it. But, my chaos theory, is more about not worrying about doing everything the right way and just living, possibly in a half arsed manner, simply. The text book version of the chaos theory is –

In mathematics and physics, chaos theory describes the behavior of certain nonlinear dynamical systems that may exhibit dynamics that are highly sensitive to initial conditions (popularly referred to as the butterfly effect). As a result of this sensitivity, which manifests itself as an exponential growth of perturbations in the initial conditions, the behavior of chaotic systems appears to be random
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaos_theory

Well fuck hey? That’s pretty deep and meaningful. I particularly like this bit – ‘an exponential growth of perturbations.’ Yes, I always thought so. You have to watch the growth of perturbations. Sometimes they get so big you can’t fit them in the cupboard with your other exponential stuff and that’s really annoying. Maybe this is when you need a empty fridge box…

The chaos theory as per Amarinda Jones

- Due to lack of time, file everything in a haphazard manner, then run round madly swearing when you have to find a vital piece of paper you need to prove something. This burns up calories.
- I rarely have earrings that match – 2 pierced holes each ear – due to the fact that I dump all the earrings in together. If you wear mismatched ones then people will consider you unique and quirky as opposed to messy.
- No time to fold clean clothes after washing? Leave ‘em in the laundry basket because you’re probably going to wear them next week anyway. This means your life is less stressful as you don’t have to find time to fold things.
- May nothing ever be found when you want it to be. Challenge in life is good. Seek, swear, forehead slap, find,
- People who annoy you? Avoid them. Life is too short and you deserve better. Some people just steal your aura man.
- Bills – wait until you are in the mood to look at them. After work is always bad. Take them to work. Open them there and use your pissed-offed-ness to good effect.
- Worry? What’s the point? Whatever is going to happen will and all the worry in the world ain’t gonna’ change it. I think this is probably when Marie Antoinette suggested the French people eat cake. I think she wanted them to worry less and eating cake does that.

Anny, Kelly, Sandra and Barbara, are most likely doing something intensely exciting or not – I recommend go see or not…up to you – use your own chaos theory on that. Or wander over and check out teh wise words of newbie author Anika Hamilton. Read, enjoy, think, eat chips and stop chasing bright, shiny things as you get no work done.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Anzac Day 25th April

And how well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water;
And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was waitin’, he primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell
And in five minutes flat, he’d blown us all to hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
But the band played “Waltzing Matilda,”
When we stopped to bury our slain,
Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.

From the song…The Band Played Waltzing Matilda – Eric Bogle

Anzac – Australian New Zealand Army Corp.

"Gallipoli was a bastard of a place," he said. "I never understood what we were fighting for. All I could think of was that I never wanted to go back to the bloody place."

Albert White, aged 100, Brisbane, Sydney Morning Herald, 17 May 2002

Anzac Day is an extremely important to Australians. It’s when we remember all those who gave their lives in war so we could be free. The tradition of Anzac day came about after Gallipoli. Where is Gallipoli? It’s in Turkey. On April 25, 1915 at 4:28am Australian and New Zealand forces were ordered to land on the beach at Gallipoli as the English military strategists had some theory that that part of Turkey had to be under Allied Control in WW1. Of course years later we know that it was the worst place to land and so many young men died at the command of pompous English officers who did not have a clue. But the troops landed, did their best trying to fight uphill and thousands were killed as they were in an impossible situation. But the thing is they endured what they had to through sheer guts, courage under impossible conditions, the bond of mateship and larrikin humor.

The Australian soldier of legend was enterprising and independent, loyal, bold, egalitarian, cheerfully undisciplined and contemptuous of the class of British officers. Blood, guts and the stuff of legend,

SMH, 24 June 2005

So the Anzac spirit was born. Many believe that this was a turning point in our history – that we came of age – that our identity was born. Yes, we were part of the British Imperial forces but we started to stand on our own to feet and be led by Australians who understood Australians – that rules do not always apply and if asked Aussies will do the impossible if respectfully asked to. As for the Turks - they were only defending their homeland from foreign invaders as you do. Today, there is a great respect between our nations.

You the mothers, who sent your sons from far away countries, wipe away your tears. Your sons are now lying in our bosom and are in peace ...

Mustafa Ataturk, 1934

My great uncle Sinclair was at Gallipoli. Click on the link below to take a squiz. He died later in France. His parents never got over his death. They had come from Scotland to start a new life in Australia and to lose a child in war scarred them forever. They threw out all Sinclair’s letters home from Gallipoli – a terrible loss to our family history but understandable. I often think of Sinclair and what he might have been.

http://www.penrithcity.nsw.gov.au/index.asp?id=1116

But Anzac day is not just about Gallipoli, It’s about all servicemen and women – living and dead who risked their lives for freedom. It’s about the men in World War II who fought the Japanese along the mud of Kokoda Track in New Guinea because the enemy was getting too damn close to Australia. It’s about those who endured the prisoner of War camps like Changi, the Sandakan death march and the atrocities on the Burma Thai railway. We remember the nurses who died or were captured when the hospital ships the Centaur and the Vyner Brooke were torpedoed in WWII. Like many nations we were
in Korea, Vietnam, East, Timor, Afghanistan, Iraq – I could go on and on. Anzac Day is about anyone who has or is peacemaking and peacekeeping. It’s about remembering them and realizing how lucky we are as a nation. As the old soldiers pass each year, we keep the tradition alive because it’s part of who we are as a country. It’s not about the wars, it’s about those who did their best in impossible circumstances and gave their all.
http://www.awm.gov.au/

My paternal grandfather fought in WWII – by all accounts he was a gentle man who was badly affected by the war. My maternal grandfather was too old to fight and I believe he wouldn’t have because he did not believe in the war and, as a proud, bloody minded Scot (brother to Sinclair) he wasn’t about to do anything the English wanted him to. Besides he had to stay at home because, my grandmother Elsie, was very worried what would happen if the Japanese invaded their small country town and specifically wanted her piano.

My father – eyes right if you will – fought in Vietnam as part of the Australian Army Team. They were attached to US Special Forces. He was stationed in Danang – and yes, he still has his green beret. It’s kept in a special box. My brother was in East Timor. So yes, there is a military tradition in our family as there is in most families.

I know every nation has something similar to Anzac Day. I know how important it is to remember. War sucks but the armed forces still do what they have to and I believe we must respect that.

I went to the dawn service this morning. I was unsure where it was in the cemetery and it was dark but I thought what the heck, I’ll find it. As I drew close to the cemetery, 100s upon 100s of candles lit up the darkness. There is something about the lonely sound of the Last Post and the stirring chords of a bagpipe being played that sends a chill down my spine. I thought about Sinclair and all the other terribly young men and women who died in war and how lucky I am. Lest we forget.

At the end of the ceremony, the speaker invited everyone back to the RSL (Returned Services League Club) for breakfast. “Nothing fancy,” he said. “God knows what they’ll cook up – probably bloody stew or something but come anyway.” Australians – I love ‘em.

The British troops were suffering from 'an atrophy of mind and body that is appalling... The physique of those at Suvla is not to be compared with the Australians. Nor, indeed, is their intelligence... They are merely a lot of childlike youths without strength to endure or brains to improve their condition... After the first day at Suvla an order had to be issued to officers to shoot without mercy any soldiers who lagged behind or loitered in an advance... [By contrast] It is stirring to see them [the Australians].. they have the noble faces of men who have endured. Oh, if you could picture Anzac as I have seen it, you would find that to be an Australian is the greatest privilege the world has to offer'

Phillip Knightley quoting Keith Murdoch, father of Rupert, who wrote from Gallipoli in 1915. Australia: A Biography of a Nation, 2000

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Thursday Thoughts...

Swift of Heart Review

What's a girl to do when her ex shows up on her doorstep after mysteriously disappearing without a word? If you're Stephanie Hart, you slam the door in his face -- repeatedly. Davies has created a funny, feisty and very likable character. She's a breath of fresh air, and Davies is an author to keep an eye on.

http://www.romantictimes.com/books_review.php?book=34942

I got a letter today from the child I sponsor in Bangladesh. These letters usually come when I need a reality check. They pull me into line and make me realize how bloody lucky I am. I can pretty much have and do what I want in life – sure there are limitations but if road A does not work out then I can go down road B or meander over to C. M in Bangladesh has limited options but she is working her guts out to make a future for herself despite the obstacles that stand in her path. Here is a young woman who is almost 15 and she knows what she wants and is studying hard to get it. High school bored the socks off me. I always think of the Simon and Garfunkel
lyrics when I think of high school – “When I think back on all the crap I heard at high school it’s a wonder I can think at all.” But here is M soaking up every moment of study. She is even good at math and science which I sucked at. I admire the tenacity of this young woman. She lives in a country that is the third world. Options are limited for women. Marriage is expected of females. Many of them marry very young. M wants to be a school teacher or a nurse. I hope like hell she makes it. Reality check taken and attitude adjusted. Oh, I’m still a pain in the arse but it is reinforced to me once more how lucky I am.

Funny…today I was doing this inanely boring task – yes correct – work and boredom are one and the same to me. And yes, I am a bad employee. I expect in another life I will pay for it - maybe I’ll be a CEO in my next life and have to deal with an annoying employee like myself. Anyway, as I was doing this job, I happened to be standing in this small room that had the control panel for the air conditioning. Women kept coming in and out on a regular basis to turn it up then down. They got pissed off when they discovered someone had changed the temperature to how they had it set. Interestingly the younger contingent had the air con on hot and the older wanted it cold - hot flush territory I guess. But basically the thing that amused me most is that no one gave a rat’s arse about anyone but themselves and their own comfort. Don’t get me wrong – comfort is everything to me but it’s not realistic to think that others in an office will not get pissed off if you demand something that does not suit them.Team work – you got to love it.

So I bought a new clock a couple of days ago. Every night since I have woken up to this eerie green glow. Is it UFOs? A ghost? No it the frigging clock. It’s freaking me out man.

Mammogram…had one today….I have to go back for an ultra sound/ needle biopsy next week. I have problem breasts. Well of course I told the nurse. I don’t want just any normal, average thing. I want to be unusual. Anyway, it’s apparently it’s just a precaution. Okay - precautions are good. Why do I mention this? No, not for pity or anything like that - pity sucks. I mention it because if you have not had a mammogram recently or you are putting it off – go and bloody do it and let it be a precaution rather than a full blown emergency. Bonus is I get 2 hours off work to have it done…excellent. Time off work is always good. Am I worried ? Nope – because whatever happens…happens.

Anzac day tomorrow – I plan to get up and go to the dawn remembrance ceremony. What is Anzac day? It’s a day of great meaning to Aussies. I’ll have more on it tomorrow. If you are at the Lutwyche Cemetery at the war graves tomorrow at dawn and you see a cold, bedraggled woman barely coherent – that will be me – come say hello. I will try and form words but I cannot promise anything

Anny and Kelly are no doubt doing fascinating things – go be fascinated by them

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?

Challenge me not...

Well…bugger. Author and mate Sandra Cox challenged me to write something on the words below and I never back down from a challenge. I suspect she knows that. Okay the words I have to talk about are…

fisticuffs
oxymoron
dirge
gladsome
risibility

Hmmm…normally Sandra likes me...


Fisticuffs – I am a person that does everything quickly. I talk fast, walk fast and act fast. I am busy, busy, busy and consequently I am still sitting around in my underwear 10 mins before I have to be at work. I then rush around like a mad thing throwing on clothes. I have a habit of not unbuttoning anything. I just slip it over my head etc. I also wear large rings on each finger. They get in the way of everything but I like them. Okay, so I shove the shirt over my head and slide my arms into the sleeves and my hands – my fists, if you will, you caught in the cuffs because the rings snag everything, Now, when you have 5 mins to get to work and it’s 15 mins away and your hands are trapped in your cuffs you ask yourself the following things – when are you going to grow up and dress sensibly? How frigging long does it take you to unbutton something? And why am I wearing the black shirt today when Monday is traditionally assassin black day? So I then have to try and unbutton the cuffs with hands that are trapped inside said sleeves. Houdini has nothing on me.

Oxymoron – Do you seriously wonder about those people who buy oxygen in a bottle or a jar – or worse they go to those oxygen bars or the beauty therapist who charges them an arm and a leg for something that is all around us? Hello? Oxygen is air. We don’t pay for it….yet. I mean, honestly what morons. They get sucked into a fad and believe the stick thin model, who is silicon and botox, flogging the bottle of air. They also believe that they too can look like that if they pay a gazillion dollars for air to breathe or have it blown on their body. Well, someone is certainly blowing something and I believe its smoke. What worries me is that so many people are either so superficial that they believe something so ridiculous is going to make them beautiful or that their self esteem is so low that will believe any load of shinola to be all they can be. Yes, I believe that air is good for you. I totally recommend oxygen for without it you are dead and with the whole dead thing looking young is not an issue. But buying it? You, to me, are an oxymoron.

Dirge – this was actually my day at work today. I get told constantly by the world’s most boring person – okay she’s in a tie for that title – the rules over and over again. Now there are so many that I believe a normal person would not be able to remember them without maybe having them tattooed on their arm or maybe carrying palm cards. But then, she isn’t normal. So, in a dull, monotonous tone she chants the rules over and over again like some monastic dirge that I reckon even monks would freak out at. Most people ears would be bleeding after the 17th recitation. Luckily I have the ability to block out any dirges I don’t want to hear like – don’t run with scissors, make sure you circle the wagons if under attack or don’t sleep in a subway. Of course, that is a problem. I block out boring stuff like work rules and then when I stuff something up I think – oh crap, I’m sure there is a rule about this. What was it? Can I somehow manipulate this stuff up to look less of a stuff up if I can somehow blame it back on the rules? Like don’t use your personal printer on you desk to print stuff off the internet. If caught I’m going to say ‘The temptation was too great not to print and every time you reminded me I shouldn’t print I fixated on that rule and subconsciously and unwillingly I printed 57 sheets of personal crap.’ See? You can dirge me but at your own peril.

Gladsome – I emailed Ethel and told her of this challenge. She said ‘gladsome’ what’s that? Is it a new range of Glad bags? Yes, I believe so Ethel. Someone wants me to talk about plastic bags (Glad – product name.) There is also Glad wrap – it’s like cling wrap…cling film. Very handy stuff but it pisses me off no end when you cannot find the start of the cling wrap and you have to spin the plastic roll around and around, scraping your finger nail over it to find the beginning but you can’t because you never can when you are busy can you? Or the newspaper man rolls the Sunday newspaper in cling film and I can never get the paper out without cutting into a hunk of it. I asked him why he persists in tormenting me like this. His response – I must have some fun in life…so gladsome is when people like to torment you will cling film…or not…it’s all relative.

Risibility…I could have looked this word up but I believe the Amarinda definition is when you drink Riesling or really any white wine and you become very deep and philosophical about life. Ever noticed how meaningful one can be when then have had a glass or 7 of plonk? Not me of course – I am way too pure-ish. The risibility of the Riesling just rises to the top and all sorts of profound things are said like – Where are my shoes? Mr waiter-man, I believe I love you and will be yours forever if you bring forth more wine. Wine, women and song – I am drinking wine, I am a woman, now hear me sing – no I don’t need shoes to sing in. Let ‘em eat cake – pass me the chips. I remember being in a bar in Pocatello and singing Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I will survive’- a classic risibility song - with a bunch of Aussies – we sang it at least 12 times…very badly but had a bloody good time. I was under the influence of risibility and therefore cannot be blamed for my actions.

Now… author Ashley Ladd tagged me again for a meme. I loathe memes…there are a bunch of rules you have to follow but basically you give 6 random facts about yourself. You also have to tag 6 other people to annoy the crap out of. Fine…whatever…I‘ll do it now so it’s out there and over and done with.

1. I consider myself fantastic
2. I know some excellent writers and they happen to write e-books…but then the best people do
3. I cannot sing worth a damn but I sing at the top of my lungs when I do
4. I believe the impossible is possible – you just have to be pushy
5. I consider being able to do the Vulcan hand salute a real talent
6. I believe Australia, particularly Queensland, is the best damn place in the world.

Okay…I’m tagging

- Hilary Clinton
- Dalai Lama
- George Clooney
- Ronald McDonald
- Hugh Jackman
- The model from the cover of Last Man Standing

Can hardly wait to see what they come up with…not like they won’t do it…I’ve tagged them...they must...there is some half arsed rule about it.

Anny and Kelly are doing Anny and Kelly things…go read, seek, find, be.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?