Category Archives: personal stuff

Personal Post- Can you have it both ways?



The Alpha Hubby and the Compassionate Guy— Can you have both?

This question reared its ugly head when I killed the tractor today. LOL, okay, I didn’t kill the tractor. But I did single-handedly cause between two and three hundred dollars worth of damage to the thing on the back of the tractor (Daddy Hubby just informed me it is called a box blade).

Here’s the thing. We were clearing out a section of leaves, and smoothing out the ground for a nice little spot in the woods for a treehouse for the kids. Back and forth, I went. Up and down with the back thing (box blade); pulling leaves, and extra dirt and small limbs over to the sides.

Then he asked me to help push a tree stump over. He instructed me to back that thing up, and lift the box blade higher so it would push at a different angle than if it were from the lowest setting. So I did.

The whole top part bent.

DH started making those really yucky looks with his eyes that said, “Oh my f***ing God, what did you do to our baby?” That’s what his eyes said. His voice said some really bad words, muttered under his breath. Along with a lot of head shaking. (for the record, I am the only potty mouth in our family. He is the laid back, kind, non-potty mouthed, good influence on our kids, parent)

I started crying. You know. Lower lip trembling, eyes tearing up. Trying not to cry, because you feel bad enough and you know the kids are just on the other side of the trees. I looked pitiful. I felt pitiful. I broke my tractor.

But did my loving, amazing Daddy/Hubby give me nurturing cuddles or “That’s okay, sweet girl. It was my fault for not explaining things better…”?


He calmly gave me whatfor for not knowing to stop before the thing bent up. (along with a few more mutterings about how much money it was going to cost).

Then I got angry. Very angry. With tears still streaming down my face, I told him exactly what I thought of his stupid plan to take out a tree stump. And how the hell could he expect me—a brand new tractor driver who has mostly only mowed the fields with it—to know how to take out a stump without killing a back thing?

I was furious. Mostly at him for not being more compassionate—he should have taken at least half the responsibility. I was untrained for this kind of task, and should not have to be held accountable for not understanding what he wanted. Yeah, it was his fault! I told him all of that while trying to rub my sore eyes with dried-out and dirty hands.

His response was much calmer and clearer. “It’s common sense. If you have something high up, and it starts bending and pushing up more, stop. “

So I burst into tears again. My husband was insinuating I had no common sense?

I have commons sense.

< Don’t walk alone after dark

< Don’t drink and drive

< Monitor the kids’ social media

< Bring a sweater or jacket, just in case it gets cold.

< etc..


Common sense. Yes, I get it! And I do have some of that in my highly creative, sometimes flighty personality.

But do I have engineering common sense?

Who screwed up the third grade toothpick bridge, for both kids?

Who can’t figure out how to get the Wii working on the right channel?

Who does not attempt any of the fun science experiments that involve building something?


Because when it comes to tech, or building something, or doing something with heavy machinery, it’s not my forte! That’s a different kind of common sense. And I don’t have it. So I shouldn’t be blamed for killing the tractor. He knew better!

LOL, I told him all of that, and that I was angry that he wasn’t apologizing.

He held me in his arms right there in the middle of the forest, right next to the busted tractor, and told me it would be all right. We could get a new part for the top.

He also told me he understood I was upset, but it was time to get over it, and finish the rest of our land clearing. Grrr! Still a tad angry, I took my frustration out on the rest of the leaves and dirt, this time leaving a huge space around the evil tree stump.

It got me to thinking. Why was he being such a mean jerk? Why couldn’t he just apologize? Why wouldn’t he take responsibility, or at the very least tell me it wasn’t all my fault that I almost killed my tractor.

It took me a few hours, and getting away from the scene, finally, to come to a new realization.

I wanted my husband to be the perfect HOH, or the perfect Daddy Dom, or the perfect hubby. I wanted him to always be strong and push me to my limits. But I also wanted him to turn on a dime, and be overly compassionate and extra sweet and take all the blame when I did something that made me feel bad.

That’s what I do in the stories I write. It’s what I like in the books I read. It’s a little too perfect for real life, though.

My final realization was that he was treating me like an equal. If he didn’t respect me, or if he thought I was just an idiot with no common sense, he would have taken the responsibility on himself. He wouldn’t have been so angry, if he hadn’t truly been blindsided by my abilities. This means he has faith in me.

He always tells me that—that he knows I can do anything I put my mind to.

On some levels, it’s annoying. Sometimes, I want Daddy Hubby to take over.

But does he need to?

All the time?

No. I would hate it. And he realizes this.

For the record, he came home and hugged me, smacked my bottom for not hugging him back, and told me, “I feel worse about you feeling bad.” (it was the closest I was getting to an apology, so I took it.)

“Good.” Was my grumbled reply.

Then we laughed and hugged again, and it was over.

We’ll get that part fixed at some point. But for now, we can move on.

He still has to fix my first attempt at a toothpick bridge with my daughter.

I can’t have it both ways. And realistically, I guess I don’t want it both ways. But I do love the combination on occasion.

Hugs and blessings ❤

Personal post – hug tackling peer pressure

Hey everyone,

(This is another one of my intimate, personal posts. Yes, I am letting myself be vulnerable. And yes, I hope friends will reply with love. Thanks! ❤ )

So, I had a really interesting moment today…

Here’s a little background going in:

My eleven year old daughter has been bullied and shunned a bit by the neighborhood girls this past year and a half. It’s normal from what I have been told, for middle school girls to be jerks, so we have been (im)patiently awaiting her old friends to come back and accept M for her differences.

And we’re actually doing pretty well. M is highly creative, and has found a lot of joy in playing online games with different people every day; and has found new ways to express herself through her art and drama.

After a long summer of her asking if she could cut her hair, I acquiesced. (my thought was “it’s hair. It will grow back.” and “If this is something that makes her happy, okay.”)

We found a Sports Clips that does only males, and showed them the picture, and voila, my beautiful, little girl came out as the most angelic, prettiest little boy I have ever seen.

M then asked to get some “boy” clothes so she could strut her stuff as a Roblox-playing, Minecraft apparel-wearing, scooter-riding boy.

She spent the last few weeks enjoying the fun side of being a boy, and even opened doors for me on her own; grabbed grocery bags; helped her little sister walk across the parking lot safely…

I had a few moments of confliction- wondering if I was setting my child up for failure, sending her to hell (because of a few well-meaning remarks by a friend); potentially allowing her to be shunned even more…

(I cried a few times. The big yucky ones that come with lots of snot and hyperventilating and trying to talk while wheezing through stuttered, hard-to-get breaths)

And then my sister and my best friend both got onto me. (lovingly, the way a bestie and a sister should 😉 )

They reminded me that the jerks in the neighborhood had been jerks even before M started trying out her new looks and acting. They reminded me that M had been a vampire, a witch, a goth, a fairy, a unicorn and a mermaid over the past several years.

Her experimentation and creativity were what made her, HER. And she was beautiful because of that light inside her and out. And not because of what anyone else perceived as beautiful and normal.

(okay, that’s the first part. Here’s my small part 🙂 )

Last night, I accidentally got dragged into one of those fun facebook games because I “liked”  a friend’s post about getting out of a speeding ticket with their boobs, and another for winning a lottery. 😉

Even though I hate these games, I decided to follow through, because there was a chance it was legitimately for breast cancer. And hey, I’ll do almost anything fun for kids, animals, wounded vets and cancer.

So I decided to choose the craziest post I could-


Hehe, I could have chosen something like using my boobs to get out of a ticket, but a lot of other people had done that already, and I wanted to be unique. 😉

Then I regretted it for the next several hours-tossing and turning in bed, wondering if people were going to really believe the post. Was my mentor / friend going to email me and say, “Um, Kate, you know that is really unprofessional and inappropriate.”

(She hasn’t yet. But with our relationship, I would expect her to, and appreciate her looking out for me.) 😉

Anyway, I almost took it down today.

Then, I had an “it just clicked” moment with my daughter…

Today, she decided she wanted to pull out all the makeup, find her cute sparkly tennis shoes, dress up a bit differently; and be a “skater girl” sort of type.

(makeup, styled hair kind of like Anne Hathaway’s after Les Miserables, a Minecraft shirt, sparkly shoes, pink eye shadow, foundation, a little blush, and some light pink lipstick)

anne hathaway

To say she ROCKED IT, is understating how amazing she looked. She was absolutely adorable, and once again showed off her style and flair in a confident manner.

Until we got to her new class. (She had only been to this class twice)

M sat in the car, and cried, and tried to wipe off all the makeup. She said she was afraid these new girls would tease her for wearing makeup, like the neighbor girls did.

I was furious!

Not at her. Mostly those little girls and their mothers; at myself for not doing a better job of projecting confidence and a “Girls kick ass” aura a bit better.

I told her that. I kind of lost my temper a bit too. But I told her everything that was on my heart, while my other, younger daughter listened wide-eyed in the back of the car.

I told her not to take off that dang makeup. That it had made her feel pretty and happy up until the second we pulled into the parking lot of the class.

That she was letting other people, and the fear of even more people change her actions and perceptions of herself.

She is a beautiful, amazing, young woman, who is kind and loving; does amazing art; plays with little kids, tells other people the things that bless them. She is creative and fun and energetic.

She is able to pull off being a vampire, a mermaid, a fairy, a boy, a skater girl, goth chick, karate kick ass chick… You name it, she pulls it off with style.

I told her all of this, along with the fact, that if she decided to change her style, not because she wanted to , but because she was afraid of what someone else would think, then she was essentially saying everything that she is (that we can all see in her), is crap.

It was probably a lot for an eleven year old to take in. But I wanted her to know that I love her so very much, and I don’t care how she dresses. And if it makes her happy, then she should continue doing it.

Be her.

Be M.

(not many people remember the unicorn picture from a few years ago. Sorry, I can’t post it on my public blog. But for those who haven’t seen it, picture an eight to nine year old prancing around Trader Joes, singing, “I’m a Unicorn.”)

That’s my baby.

I hope she knows how much she is loved, and how special she is.

I hope she never loses that light.

And I pray that she doesn’t let peer pressure affect her as badly as I have let it affect me.

So, I’m keeping the Facebook post.

Yep, folks. I have diarrhea. 😉

And I am going to make a really conscious effort to not worry about what my peers think of me before I do things.

I am going to write some books that make me happy without wondering about perception.

I’m going to continue wearing my Army boots with sun dresses (much to my poor hubby’s dismay 😉 )

I’m going to wear pigtails when I want to look cute.

I am going to remember to like myself, not for anyone else’s judgment or acceptance, but for me.

Because, not only do I have a little girl on my living room couch, wearing a long, red wig and minecraft clothes; and I want to be a good role model;

but also because I think it might be pretty dang good for me too.

Sorry for the long post.

Thanks for listening.

unoque quote

hugs and blessings

Dominance, Submission, and the Dentist

It’s time for some more personal musing. 🙂


I just got back from a pretty intense dentist visit, and am exhausted and a little sore all over. LOL, lying in a chair with your mouth stretched wide open for over three hours will do that to a person. (Five cavities in my upper left side 😦 )

So here are my thoughts, as jumbled as they might sound:

< I love nitrous oxide. (I think that’s what they call the “happy gas” they give you). At one point, I made the mistake of telling them how extra “floaty” I was, and that it might be a bit much. She turned it down 5%. Boo. Later, when I wasn’t as floaty, she turned it back up 2.5%.

Man, that stuff made me feel great. I was so relaxed and sleepy. Kind of like when you are having the most wonderful, deep sleep and dream, and you can’t wake up. You feel heavy and free from everything—it was probably a good thing she turned it down, LOL.


< I don’t hate my dentist, but I do hate being there. The loud noises scare me; the scraping, and polishing sets my nerves on edge; the pushing and prodding and shots, etc… hurt or make me uncomfortable; it’s like you don’t have any control—and for a type A personality specially, it’s difficult. The whole thing over-stimulates me.


< I LOVE my dentist! She is the kindest, most compassionate, sweetest lady, and she is quite nurturing, but not in a talk down you sort of way. That’s a gift right there. Her tone and demeanor when I would get upset, made me feel like not only did she care about my comfort, but that she also wanted me to be able to overcome on my own if possible. No talking down, and “sweetie” stuff. (Everyone knows how much I hate that). Yet, I still did get the feeling energetically that she was nurturing me through the whole process. It was an interesting dynamic to be able to let go with someone like that—especially another woman.


< Which leads me to the whole D/s sort of dynamic. Bear with me. I might still be loopy. 😉  She was the subject matter expert/ the professional. I gave her my trust and submitted to her work. And she allowed me to do so with grace and respect. I cried once toward the beginning, and she talked so soothing to me, and made sure I understood everything that was happening. It gave me a sense of control in a much uncontrolled environment.

She didn’t force me to use the big bite block thing (a piece of hard material placed in between my teeth on the opposite side), to give me a chance to stop holding my mouth open myself. I tried it for about twenty seconds before gagging and retching, and telling her I was sorry, but I couldn’t do it. (I have a huge gag reflex). She was fine with that. We just continued, and I made myself be a good girl and open oh so wide. She was so pleased with me, and kept telling me how great I was doing.

Like I said, it was a very different dynamic.

I did so well through most of it. Even past all the scary sounds, and digging and scraping and pushing and pulling. I even asked to try the bite block again when my mouth finally got too exhausted.

She reminded me that I was in control of this whole thing. When I wanted it out, I could take it out. If I needed swishing or suction, let them know. I was in control. It amazed me to think of it that way, and freed me so much so I could let go and try to relax through the rest of it.

It was over three hours of work, including a bathroom break (I had to take off the nitrous for that though 😦 ). When it got too loud (like that doggone polisher!) I cranked my Ella Enchanted soundtrack on my daughter’s IPOD and breathed in and out through my nose. I really was such a good girl. 😉

Then something happened. I literally broke down in the middle of a final tooth. My heart started racing, my gag reflex went berserk, I couldn’t breathe, I felt heavy, and I started crying. Hard. It was like a panic attack of the worst kind. And it came out of nowhere. I was so afraid I was going to choke to death on that thing in my mouth. I signaled and grunted and wept. I had just enough control in me though to not start flailing everywhere and yanking stuff out of my mouth. Another thirty seconds, I probably would have.

She calmly and quickly got everything out, and turned off, and held one hand, while the assistant gave me her arm (which I hugged to my chest tighter than my husband on our wedding night) then she just talked. Calm, sweet, kind words about how good I was doing, and how close to being done I was. Less than five minutes, LOL.

She affirmed that this was really hard, and I had been doing so well holding everything together, even being scared for such a very long time. And she reminded me again how great I was doing.

I laughed (a big snotty laugh, of course, with dribble running down my side of my cheek), kind of skeptical that I was indeed doing a good job. But hey, if she said so, then I believed her.

I started breathing in through my nose, closed my eyes and relaxed. She told me how great it was that I had gotten myself calmed down without any help, and that’s what I needed.

With only a few more tears, the whole thing was finished.

Ibuprofen taken, yucky oxygen administered (I would not have minded taking a nice rest with the blanket and mask still in place), and another huge bout of praise over how well I had done.


< This whole visit makes me think about dominance and submission. What I would look for in a dom. What I would expect from him, and what he could expect from me in return. If I had to choose a Dom, it would be someone like my dentist.

I won’t ever say I love going to get dental work one. But I do love my dentist.

And she has given me a whole new idea for a story.

Happy spanks!

Don’t forget to floss 😉

The Family that laughs together…

I wasn’t planning on posting anything today, but we just had another memory moment in the Deane household.

My eight year old had taught herself how to make frozen ice’s from juice and soda today, and wanted to make me one.

So I pulled out the big ole honkin’ jug of green vegetable V-8 juice, shook it rapidly, and placed it on the counter after loosening the lid, so she could pour my ice cup easily.

Then I went to start her bath water.

I’m sure you can guess what happened next. 😉

I came back, picked up the container of what I am now calling “mean, yucky green stuff that should not be in certain parts of my body”; started shaking

hehe, it went everywhere when the cap flew off.

All over the counter and crock pot

it doused my hairy in green stuff

it went down the front of my sundress.

Yes, it was everywhere.

My eight year was shrieking with laughter as her little face reddened from lack of oxygen from laughing so hard.

My ten year old, came over shook her head, and gave me her patented “I’m almost a teenager” look of sarcasm / pity.

My husband came down, and tried not to laugh.

“It’s okay, you can laugh,” I muttered and ran water in my eye. Yes, it was in my eye!

He laughed.

I laughed. We all laughed.

And hubby even offered to clean up the mess while I took a quick shower.

I like that about my family.

Even though we get busy, or frustrated, or distracted from the important things, we can always find something to laugh about together.

(Usually, it’s me. But hey, what’s the point of being boring. I like to entertain people.)

Notes to self from this afternoon:

  1.  Always make sure the lid is tightly screwed on before shaking anything.

2.  Put this scene in a future book. People like a good laugh 😉


hugs and laughs ❤


The Big Brother fantasy – another personal musing :)

It’s time for another personal post. 🙂

This one is not sexual, and I already know that the word “fantasy” conjures up quite a different image than what I really want, but for lack of better words, and coffee, I’m going with it for now.

The other day, I replied on a post, that I wasn’t really into Stepbrother stories. (for the record, once again, I am a firm believer in “Your kink may not be mine, and that’s okay.”).

I got to thinking about it this morning while washing dishes.  “What is the big emotional factor behind me not getting into a kink that so many of my other friends do get into?”

It’s the Big Brother fantasy.

captain america

(I even figured out who I want to be my big brother, LOL. Yes, it is most definitely a fantasy. 😉 )


I have a big brother “fantasy”, and have for almost all my life.

No sex here. None whatsoever.

In my dreams and fantasies, I have always longed for a big brother.

A big brother that would stick up for me, kick bullies’ asses for me.

Cuss me out if I came home late, and forgot to call.

But wash my mouth out with soap if I dared to use the same words, LOL.

Hold me on his lap, and let me cry over the latest stupid drama (probably Facebook induced).

Remind me that I am a good person, and deserve the best in life.

Spank me over his knee, if I am not doing the best for myself.


overprotectove big brother


There’s plenty more. But I think you get the picture.

This isn’t all child and teenage based, though. It’s an adult wish as well.

As an adult, he would back off at times, but always be that safety net. Big Brother, the one I could always count on when I needed him.

He would probably die a million times, watching me make mistakes, but he would never turn his back on me, would never leave me. Would always love me.

My protector, my big brother would be there, because his main existence in life would be to be THERE for me. LOL, that’s a little egoistical and selfish, but hey, it’s my fantasy.

And here’s the thing, a real big brother would not ever have sexual feelings towards me, nor I toward him. We would love each other unconditionally, and give each other the strength to make it through life.

I would be the annoying, yet adorable, but always there for him, little sister.

He would be the Good Lord, this big jerk has pissed me off again, but he always has my back, big brother.

big brother picture

That’s my fantasy.

I’ve always tried to make it come true, by dating older or more mature guys. But it never quite turned out the way I planned.

What I portrayed as a need for sibling intimacy and connection, was always taken as sexual connection. Men never understood that.

I’ve always been drawn to the big brother type. That guy with a little hint of what I was looking for. But unfortunately, it confuses men. They take flirting as an invitation for sexual activity.

And to be honest, all I really want is the snuggles. And the safety net, And the bond.

And the spankings.


Psychologically, there might be something deeper. Like an Electra complex sort of thing. I don’t know. But that’s the fun thing about thinking, reading, talking and growing.

But for now, at least I have enough information to get going.

I have a Big Brother fantasy. I am probably the only woman in the world that feels that way.

LOL, which will make it very difficult to sell the idea of a brother  / sister relationship to the publishers. But, it’s still pretty in my mind.

Thanks for listening.

Happy spanks ❤

Husband or Daddy – What’s the difference?

Gah! We had another rough morning  in the Deane household – getting the kids out to door for school.
My ten year old had a headache and slight nausea and wanted to stay home.
I’m the softy that will always accept the excuses, and told her,
“Okay, baby, let’s just rest, and we’ll do our school work from home.”
(she did have a slightly elevated temperature, though)
But The Heavy put his foot down.
Explained we don’t always feel well, but we still have to do our job.
Told her to do the best she could, but to have the teacher call us if she did actually puke.
Hubby is always good like that.
He enforces the 8:30 pm bed time rule, when I would happily keep watching Superhero cartoons with the kids til at least 9 pm.
(Young Justice, Lab Rats, Justice League Unlimited… they are so awesome!)
He doesn’t take “I don’t feel well” for an excuse to stay home.
And last night, he called out “Stranger Danger”, when I went to answer the door after dark.
LOL, who does that?
(But I hadn’t thought twice, thinking it could have been a neighbor.)
It was actually strangers, selling carpet cleaning. I’m glad I stopped and let him answer. 😉
Hubby also lets me know when big / bad things happen in the world, so I don’t have to listen to the news.
He’s a good daddy.
To all of us.
Even though we are not in an AP relationship, he definitely has the stern, matter of fact, right from wrong, easier isn’t always best attitude, down pat.
And that’s what a daddy does, right?
Yesterday, he even gave me a couple of swats for being a good girl and finishing a ton of laundry.
He’s a good hubby, and a good daddy, and very good at being The Heavy.
We complement each other.
Sometimes, I complain about him not getting me, and not having that much in common, but somehow, we fit.
We work together.
And that is a very good thing.
He’s Heavy.
I’m soft.
It’s just like chocolate and sea salt. You wouldn’t think it would work, but it does. 🙂
I’m off to iron and catch up on some quick (much needed) housework, while both kids are at school.
Hopefully, my daughter won’t get sick at school. I don’t want to “I told you so” hubby that badly.
❤ Hugs and spanks

I’m Weird and I’m me – a personal post



I’m ME

I don’t know exactly where this post is going to take me, because I am thinking as I type.  I started musing while I was in the shower (it’s where most of my good ideas come from), about a conversation I had with my sister the other day.
She called me weird after I said something extremely “Kate” like. But it didn’t offend me.
We took the conversation further, and both agreed that my inability to sometimes fit in with “normal” society, is also what gives me my intense creative spark.
It also gives me a huge heart for love and the desire to create new things every day- whether they be in written form, sung, made with mod podge, glued, stitched, knitted, sewed…
For most of my life, I have been called names  and descriptions like
  • hyperactive
  • geek
  • dork
  • spaz
  • crazy
  • weird
and the worst…
  • not normal
and for most of my life (and in moments when I am feeling less secure), I have been hurt by those comments.
But now that I have my own children who exhibit a lot of my unique “Kateness”, I can see how unique and beautiful these differences make them.
And if I can see that beauty in them, it stands to reason, I should see it in my own self.
Sometimes, it’s hard.
Sometimes, I feel sad, unloved, misunderstood’ like I am on the outside looking in.
But those feelings don’t last long. 
By nature, I am a happy, energetic person. So I don’t stay down long. And I know how to ask for help.
I am blessed with a great online social network of friends who are always ready to send hugs and
❤ ‘s. (even better – kitten and puppy pictures!!! 🙂 )
I also have a small network of close friends who I can call or email and talk to.
So, here’s the thoughts for the day:
If I have friends like that…
  • I must not be that unlikable


If I like creating things, and it gives me pleasure, and sometimes, it blesses others…
  • then, my energy and “spazziness”, must be a good thing.


And finally, if I can accept those differences in my children, and see them for all their worth, and all the wonderful things they bring to others…
  • then, I need to accept them in myself.
Yes, sometimes the words hurt. But they don’t have to.
I’m proud to be weird.
I am proud to be different.
My unique “Kateness“, makes me special.
And I like that about me.
I might not always be able to let go of the words, and I might not always have the self confidence to be me,
but for now…
I accept that
I am weird
I am the only me I can be.
Someday soon, I might start a new blog (and maybe even a slightly autobiographical story about all the interesting things I have been through.)
It will be funny. (the story of me dancing in my undies to the Justice League theme song, is a pretty good start. 🙂 )
It might be a bit gross  ( picking lice from the kids’ hair, burping, yeah, lots of burping, gross cat stuff…..)
Then there’s Army training, running, my first Thanksgiving turkey….
And there might be some not so happy moments (the real stuff that still make me cry at night)
But most of all, it will be me.
So that’s me.
I will keep you all posted if / when I finally start the new series or blog.
-special hugs for each of you, my unique, gifted, wonderful friends.
blessings and hugs ❤

Welcome 2016 – personal post :)

Happy New Year, friends.

2015 was a very interesting year for me. Lots of great moments with friends and family; two new books that pushed me as an author and let me try some new things; we bought land and explored and camped on it; amazing books read; traveling and meeting new author friends… Yes, it was fantastic.

Then, there were some not so great moments — family health issues, depression and anxiety, marital and family challenges… Ugh, some of the moments were rough, and definitely fed off each other.

But that year is over.


making mistakes

And now it’s time to start a new one, filled with new memories and great moments. Will they be the same as last year?

Some will, yes. Like the health issues of a dear family member.

But some moments will change- like how my family and spouse and I interact with each other.


Because we have all changed. We are all growing. Learning. Adjusting our reactions based on our experiences.

Hubby and I have backed off from a lot of the points I most looked forward to in our DD relationship. (yeah, that would be the spankings 😉 )

But he is still, the Head of our household.

Though we are all emotionally and physically (beyond) fatigued, we have discussed and agreed upon the fact that we need to find some reconnection time together.

It might be like a few days ago, when we were preparing (AKA- frantically cleaning the house so people didn’t throw up when they walked in the door) for friends to come celebrate New Year’s Day with us.

The kids were outside roller blading, and I was scrubbing three day old (we should probably stick with that number, right?) dirty pots.  He was putting dishes away from the dishwasher, and came upon the black plastic spatula.

I didn’t even have to bend over. I knew that look. It was only 60 seconds, over my yoga pants. But it was heaven. The front door opened, and little skates could be heard on the hard wood floor in the hall. So we stopped, grinned, and continued our business. It was pretty cool to have that nice little secret between us again.

He reminded me that I could not wear yoga pants and an old Army t-shirt for our company. (In my defense, this was a lunch / dinner, and I wanted to be comfy 😉 )  But I agreed, and found a loose fitting hobo skirt instead. I guess it did feel good to dress up a little and socialize with people.


What does 2016 bring to the table?

I don’t know.

My goals are:

  • to write three books. One of them is a fairy tale I have been dying to do for a few years now. (Because I love this character and her story. And because I really like fairy tales. They are a nice fantasy and quick, inexpensive escape)


  • to get rid of all the clutter in my house, and get it ready for when we decide is the right time to move out to our new land.


  • to enjoy my moments – even the not so great ones.


  • to reconnect with my husband (maybe even celebrate our anniversary at some point. LOL, it was in September)


  • and finally, to keep my eyes open. I might not like what I see, but I will learn from it.

And grow.


Happy New Year, friends.

Blessings, hugs, and especially…

Happy Spanks!



First Draft writing woes


(Since I have had a rough week of what I call my “first draft writing woes”, I decided to interview myself, and see if I could talk my way back into some forward action. My male character, the hunky, dominating coach from my current work in progress, came by to help) 😉


First draft woes –

An interview with Coach Jonathan from “Redemption” (Katherine’s current WIP)


Katherine Deane: Thanks for coming by today, Jonathan. I’m having a really tough time with your story, and since you are a coach and trainer for elite athletes, I was hoping you could help me talk out my issues.

Coach Jonathan: I’m happy to help, Katherine. What seems to be the problem?

Katherine Deane: The first draft sucks! It sucks worse than rotten eggs from a Chinese restaurant’s dumpster – after a week of sitting in the hot sun!

Coach Jonathan: Nice analogy. I can almost smell it, based on that vivid description. Are you doing that in your writing?

Katherine Deane: Noooo. (Groans and covers her head) I’ve pretty much just written out everything from my original plan and character arc sheets.

Coach Jonathan: Foundation building, got it.

Katherine Deane: Aren’t you listening to me? It sucks! It’s terrible. I keep hyperventilating every time I try to read through it. (Wraps arms around her chest and sighs pitifully.) I just want to curl into a ball and go read someone else’s awesome story.

Coach Jonathan: (strides over and pushes her down over desk, and lays rapid swats across her bottom.)

Katherine Deane: Ow, ow, ow. What are you doing? Stop! That hurts.

Coach Jonathan: Are you ready to stop the pity party and listen to me?

Katherine Deane: Yes, coach. (Rubs her bottom and winces as she sits back down)

Coach Jonathan: You’re a runner, right? You used to compete a lot before having your children, correct?

Katherine Deane: Yes.

Coach Jonathan: Did you just decide one day, “Hey I’m going to go out for a run today, and see if I can qualify for the military world cross country championships, and then qualify for the Olympic Trials in the Marathon”?

Katherine Deane: No. That’s ridiculous. I put a ton of base building, strength training, and miles under my belt before I could even try something that difficult. It was a lot of work.

Coach Jonathan: Did you roll into a ball, and watch your favorite runners do their thing, instead? Did you give up?

Katherine Deane: No, sir! I am not a quitter!

Coach Jonathan: What did you do, sweetheart?

Katherine Deane: I created you, and you damn well know I hate being called words like that. Don’t call me “Sweetheart”. And in answer to your question, I worked my ass off every day, until I achieved my goal.

Coach Jonathan: There’s the fire I was looking for. (Winks and gives a huge smile with perfectly white teeth). You know how to build a foundation. You know it’s not going to be easy. And as you have just demonstrated, you are not a quitter. So what are you going to do now?

Katherine Deane: Um, remind myself that it’s first draft, and it’s supposed to suck?

Coach Jonathan: (nods)

Katherine Deane: Keep going; fix what I can; ask for a friend to read it through and give suggestions…

Coach Jonathan: And?

Katherine Deane: (stands and pulls herself to her full five foot two height and glares at him) I’m going to finish your story, and people are going to love Wren, and swoon over you and your dominating ways.

Coach Jonathan: Good girl. Remember, it’s just a foundation. You continue to build from there. I know you can do it. (Gives her a hug) But if you need any more incentive, let me know. I have a paddle, Benwa balls, ginger root, and a lot of experience motivating little rebels who need an extra push.

Katherine Deane: Thanks. I needed that. Okay, you get back to training Wren. I want her ready for the big gymnastics circuit next week.

Coach Jonathan: My little rebel was born ready. Keep up the great work. (Smiles and walks out Katherine’s office)

Katherine Deane: (winces as her bottom rubs against her not cushioned enough, office chair)  I have got to stop giving my heroes such hard, paddle like hands.

All right, first draft, let’s see what we can do with you…

*** (Thanks for stopping by!) *** 🙂


calvin first draft


beautiful poem



ernest hemingway first draft quote


mobydick first draft


sand castle quote


shit rough drafts hemingway












My first big trip in years! (a personal post :) )

I just went to my first ever author conference. It was for the Stormy Night’s Publishing conference in Texas, and boy, was it awesome! I made new friends, and met friends I had talked to online; I got some fun new story ideas… it was a fantastic experience

I even left my kids at home –  for the first time in ten years. It was kind of exciting and scary, but the trip was amazing! 🙂

So in honor of my “first” of several things, including my first time meeting some really cool people, I decided to write a list of Do’s and Don’ts for myself. Just in case I get to do this again.



Katherine’s list to self for future “Author trips”

(in somewhat random order):

DON’T – disregard your husband’s advice when he tries to tell you, 12 skirts, 4 shirts, 6 tank tops, jeans, yoga pants, and 4 pairs of different shoes are too much for only two nights of travel.

DON’T –  forget to take a picture of where you parked, including the sign for the parking lot, to avoid asking help from nice airline guys who drive you around for an hour searching for your car. (long story short, this happened to me, several years ago, when I was traveling by myself with two “under three year olds” in car seats.)

lost my car pic


DO- try to keep the wide eyed, “OMG”, this airport is so cool, but overwhelming…” look off your face.

DO – zip up your purse

DON’T – freak out, because it is the first time you have ever left the kids. They will be fine. Even if they have blue lips and dirty hair after the weekend (I have the text pic to prove it 😉 )

DO – remember that your husband is a grown man, who has successfully led troops in the military and owns his own company- he is quite capable of taking care of your children while you are gone.

DO – confirm if your roommate has the same body temp needs, to avoid freezing her out at night

DO – take lots of pics of all the cool things you are doing, and text them to hubby every 20 minutes

DON’T – forget that there is a time difference, and he might be asleep

DO – sit next to the college student, who has great note taking abilities (and much better handwriting than yours), and ask if you can have her notes. (you might be able to bribe her)

DO – if you burp really loud, blame it on your table mate (she will probably be very busy taking notes, and won’t even notice when you keep shrugging and pointing at her)

DO – save your receipts so you can deduct it as a business expense

DON’T – put your receipts with your dirty clothes

DO – Enjoy yourself

DON’T – get too insecure about the super awesome group of talented authors with lots more experience than you, and think you don’t belong.

DO – Remind yourself, everyone starts as a newbie with something to learn, and you have worth.

DON’T – forget your inner filter, and tell your new friends every TMI embarrassing moment you can think of, once you get back to the hotel

delicious bass pic

DO – keep a glass of wine next to you at all times, so if you do accidentally tell your new friends about some random bodily function that shocked you, they will just assume you are drunk.

DO – Write down all the cool ideas that come to you from the event (asap, before you forget them)

DO – wear a short skirt combo with boots that looks totally awesome, for your first rodeo. (Yeehaw!)

DON’T – forget to get a picture of how totally adorbs you look 😉

DO – make sure to pack pasties if you are not going to wear a bra

DON’T – freak out when you sit on the metal bleachers at the rodeo, and your skirt doesn’t cover your booty because it is too short. (you’re just going to have a few funny marks on your backside. no worries)

DO – take lots of pictures and make notes of awesome cowboy names (and how good their booties looked in their jeans), when you go to your first rodeo.

bull riding

DON’T – send the cowboy pics to your husband. He might not appreciate them as much.

DON’T – try to steal a pregnant woman’s cotton candy (I did not do this at the time, but considered it for a few minutes. It looked really yummy)

DON’T – forget to put on deodorant

hot as heck pic

DO – be yourself

DON’T – forget the hotel walls are really thin. Any discussions about pasties, hot cowboys, and possible spanking scenarios… well, since you could hear your neighbor’s tv both nights… yeah.

DO – thank your hostess for making arrangements for dietary needs, like gluten free eating

DON’T – forget to tip the hotel cleaning staff, and the nice driver who carries your suitcase onto your bus to and from the airport

DON’T – forget to buy gifts for your kids

DON’T – forget to thank your hosts after the awesome trip

DON’T – start crying like a baby, and hug your new friends, and say you will miss them- without explaining first, that you are just empathic, and not a complete psychopath.

DO- Give the gifts to your kids when you get home. (Yes, they look super cute and cuddly, and remind you of your first trip, but the kids won’t appreciate the “almost” gesture, if you keep them for yourself.

stuffed friends

DO – be prepared to do a bit of extra cleaning when you get home (this includes washing hair dyes out of the kids ears and hair)

DO – be thankful for the awesome trip, and look forward to doing this again.

DO – start writing, ASAP! You have lots of ideas and energy from the trip. Use it before school starts.


I’m sure I forgot a few things, but these were the biggies. I had a great time, and am so happy to be back home.

Thanks for stopping by!

hugs and blessings ❤