Short Bio



When asked how she ended up in the US, Mickey will go into a detailed account of alien ninja mobsters chasing her across Niagara Falls with Taser guns and taxidermied were-beavers. Once she made it across the border, she forged a new identity as an extreme teddy bear biologist and paper folder.

Alas, she discovered you’re only as good as your last folded paper. So, she turned her talents to raising a couple of minions of evil in the hopes that one day, they would become criminally insane geniuses with goals of global domination.

Oh, and she writes too.

 

Other useless information:

I’m 41, divorced, a Sagittarius, and 5’7” on good days.

My son tells everyone I’m the funniest person he knows, and he knows funny!

I’m a reluctant catholic, and a lazy Buddhist.

My kids and I have a serious ‘2 Broke Girls’ addiction that we have no intention of curing.

 

What I’d like to write about:

Hmm let’s see, I love writing about snarky unicorns, wand-wielding witches and sorcerers that favor an alternative lifestyle.

If that’s not your thing, I also enjoy writing about home décor, DIY projects, traveling and relationships of the platonic and romantic variety.



Things My Car Says…

Ted was looking kinda sulky as I walked towards him in the Walmart parking lot.

Yeah, his name is Ted, so what?

Why would I name my minivan? Why do the birds sing, why does blah blah blah, stop asking so many questions so I can get one with my train of thought before I get distracted.

Oooh bunny pics!

bunny

Oh yeah, back to Ted.

His name just seemed to fit him. His engine tap dances the way Fred Astaire did in ‘The Gay Divorcee.’ Plus he’s the strong yet silent type, ie no alarm system. Not to mention he has a bad habit of popping his gasket like a cranky old man every now and then.

It used to be Fred, but honestly, the kids kept calling Ted so it stuck.

Back to the parking lot at Walmart…I parked him around some cute cars. A baby blue Prius, a cheeky cherry red Camry and a muy caliente Audi. But when I returned, there poor Ted sat, all alone, with only a crow sitting on his hood for company.

 

crow

 

And honestly, he seemed kinda grumpy.

That’s when I started to wonder about the things Ted whispers to other parked cars when I’m not looking.

Like…

“Sup, it’s not the gas mileage that counts; it’s the way my engine revs, baby, vroom!”

Or…

“Ola Chica, your sexy hatchback is making me overheat!”

Last, and probably least favorite…

“Woah honey, you’re really cranking my driveshaft!”

 

Gratitude

Gratitude

There are times when stress and silly little things make me lose my cool. Such as trying to drag the kids out of bed and to school on time, or the time of the month I dread the most, time to pay bills.

During these times, I need a little reminder, which I keep on the desktop of my computer as a file I labels in big bold letters, THINGS I AM GRATEFUL FOR.

It reminds me to open the word file/journal and contemplate the things in my life that makes it so very wonderful.

The first on my list is always my beautiful children. Nothing makes me happier than picking them up from school, listening to their daily gossips about their friends, and then snuggles on the couch together to watch a few episodes of Big Bang Theory.

On the weeks they’re with their dad, I’m doubly blessed to have a best friend I spend my time with. We have coffee together, talk about our kids, his being much older than mine, and then get to work doing our own things. While we sit in companionable silence, the peace of being with my BFF lets my mind go one a happy little adventure through my make believe world of characters that have been begging me to write their stories.

Last but not least, I am grateful to have my happy place, or as I prefer to call it, my ivory tower. Which is my third floor balcony where I sit in my favorite wing chair and write till my fingers beg for a break and my brain screams NO MORE!

 

A snarky look at the other October holidays

I love Halloween! It has to be by far my favorite holiday. As a history buff, I love the old pagan stories, as a mom, I love visiting pumpkin patches with the kids, and my inner kiddie loves getting dressed up as a witch, which I have done every year since I was thirteen.

Even if I wasn’t a trick or treat aficionado, I’d know Halloween was lurking around the corner, because of all the stores bursting with autumn garlands, spooky makes and glittery make-up.

But this is not about Halloween, no, for the moment I decided to explore the other holidays coming up that have hidden under a pumpkin shaped shadow over the years.

October 1st – World Vegetarian day. That’s right, all you cray cray vegan get your partay on, don’t forget to bring the bean dip and gluten free nachos!

October 13th – Columbus day. Don’t be hatin on poor ole Columbus, the old boy didn’t have a Garmin or a smartphone to tell him he missed the exit.

October 22nd – National Nut day. I’ll be celebrating this crazy writer style, since I don’t care for peanuts.

October 24th – United Nations day. There will be Twinkies in the lobby till two, and everyone can join in the Macarena at 4.

October 26th – Summer is officially over in Europe. That means no celebrating, you naughty Americans you!

October 28th – St Simon and St Jude day. Halos off to you two good ole boys!

Motivation

I mentioned I’m working on the third in a series of books called Hexes in Texas. I also mentioned my procrastination and trying to get myself motivated to get back into writing it.

Know all summer long I’ve written notes on the book when ideas, characters, conflicts popped into my head, I wrote them down> I even managed to squeak out the first chapter.

Yet I don’t feel motivated to write. Why? I kept asking myself.

Then about a week ago, I was on a plane, enjoying the feeling of taking off when it came to me.

My heroine is boring!

Don’t get me wrong, she’s a great girl, who protected her people with her elfy skills. She also has plenty of conflict to keep me busy for a while.

The Problem with Astrid is that she’s a shy, introverted type.

With the first book, I didn’t have any problems writing about my witch from Canada, who spoke her mind, and when she didn’t, her cheeky English speaking cat did for her.

In the second book, I had a fire and brimstone, witchy who wasn’t afraid to snark or hex your boots off.

They were spunky, sassy, spit fiery kinda gals. Not so with Astrid.

So, how in hades to I get this girl to come out of her shell?

That, I realized, had to be my motivation.

Why Do I Procrastinate?

Why do writers procrastinate?

Think about it, we as writers are probably masters at the art of procrastination. We plan to get some writing done, then catch up on email, check our social media pages, gossip a little about what other writers are doing, compare notes on the shows from night before, you might even have a favorite game you like to play.

 

I am just as guilty of it. I don’t play games, but I do draw when I should be writing, texting is a guilty pleasure, and while I’m not a fan of watching TV, I do watch one or two shows when I’m with the kids.

 

I ask myself why? I have so many stories to write, not to mention trying to write blogs. The answer came from an article I read about motivation. There are writers and other creative types who pump out volumes of work on a regular basis. These are the motivated ones, who don’t fear failure.

That was my ‘aha’ moment. What motivates me, and what do I fear?

I seriously had to take a good look at myself. I’ve self pubbed ten stories, people generally liked them, except for the ones who left cranky reviews, so why have I’ve been dragging my heels getting back into the writers groove?

In good part it was the summer vacay and having the kiddies under foot. They are sweeties but make it hard to day dream. The other part is fear of failure. My ego and self-confidence took quite a beating after the divorce. Thankfully, it’s been coming back in small doses, so that I get up in the morning, get in my cozy chair and start cranking out ideas.

I’ve managed to blog again, better than before I think, and even jot down a few kiddie stories. Now all I have to do is open the file on my third Hexes in Texas book and get cracking!

Making Friends at 40

Making friends at 40

Making new friends was never an easy task for me. Growing up at home, I had no problem being chatty, But at school I had a tough time talking to the kids around me, even worse, having to speak when the teacher called on me, and almost fainted when I had to present in front of a class!

This shyness never went away, but did ease up once I started college. I learned to control the anxity, and in some subjects such as history, when I was excited, I gleefully debated the teacher when I knew he was wrong.

But growing older, it doesn’t seem to matter if you were the class clown, nerd or prom queen, we all have a hard time making new connections as we move from single to married, married with kids, and in my case, single with kids.

In the last couple years I realized how isolated I was, with only young kids, my pets and the never ending round of sponge bob and my little pony to talk to.

So I saw a therapist to get over my fear to talking to people. I worked through my anxiety of what people thought of me or worrying about my feet being stuck in my mouth. Once I felt somewhat confident in myself, I pushed myself to make new friends.

Luckily two friends stuck around after the divorce, the rest however did what most do during a divorce, and vanished in the wind.

Which led me back to my initial quest of meeting new people, let me just say, when all your looking for is a few friends , and single, and the people you keep meeting are guys that want wifey #2, it gets pretty bleeping frustrating!

I ended up isolating myself again, this time my kiddies with me every other week, making it feel even worse.

Then I found an online group just for women, which has helped me get to know other women in similar situations, and has helped me so much! J

The concept of sin

In my former post I mentioned my son and I get into some interesting discussions. One of them was the concept of sin.

Kenny is a fourth grader at a catholic school. So he gets his fair share of religion class, masses, and teachers telling him about sin and what he has to do to get a thumbs up at the pearly gates.

Personally, I’d done catholic schools up until college, and in the forty years on this earth, I’ve come to some conclusion on my own about the question of faith, god and the afterlife.

I also have my own view of what it means to sin, which I shared with him this morning. When you make a promise to another person, or to yourself, and you break that promise that is what I consider a sin to yourself.

Kenny listened as I explained that most people have a conscience. That conscience is the inner voice letting you when you’ve doing something good or bad. When you broke a promise, or did something you know to be wrong, it is still wrong even when no one is looking; it weighs on your soul, making you feel like a bad person. This heavy feeling grows worse when you lie about what you did.

This, I told him, is what I consider a sin to yourself. God may or may not be looking, but you know what you did. Then I told him about something that happened to me at his age that made me choose to be honest, even when it gets me into trouble. I had taken something, a cookie from another student. Now, the other student didn’t know, and when I eventually told her, she didn’t care. But I did, I felt that wrongness settle in my soul that left an impression for the rest of my life.

In the end I repeated to Kenny what Pope John Paul II said to a youth group years before he died, you don’t have to be a sinner, you can choose to be a saint.

The Dreaded Question

My favorite time of the day is in the morning, when I get to drive my kids to school. I tell them silly stories and jokes, and sometimes I get the pleasure of having a really intense discussion with my son.

Nothing thrills me more than intellectual conversations about theology, or history, or philosophy. So when I get to have one with my Kenny, I’m over the moon with happiness. Granted we need to keep most of the concepts pretty simple and straight forward, nonetheless, I love to watch his mind expand with new thoughts and possibilities with each question he asks me.

This morning, instead of jokes, I had to give him a serious talk about teasing a classmate, which turned into the topic of the dreaded question.

Before your mind races to the obvious, it is not sex. While I have no problem discussing what Sheldon on ‘The Big Bang’ calls ‘coitus’ Kenny and I have already agreed to hold off on that topic or a little while longer. Even though he understands the mechanics of the act…well, that’s a topic for another blog.

No, the real dreaded question is why I divorced his father.

Even though I know the ex-spouse told him some very unpleasant things about me at the beginning when emotions had exploded beyond reason, I have been extremely careful in answering this question. Yes, my emotions were just as wild and erratic as his. However, when I gazed into my boy’s big brown eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to counter the awful things his father said. Not because of hurting his dad, because I couldn’t bear the thought of hurting my son’s sweet little heart.

I know at some point I’ll have to explain it to him, and it will hurt all over again. It will hurt me as I rehash the past that I try so hard to accept, let go and forget about. But when I do finally explain it, it will hurt my sweet boy even more.

Comic book birthday party

 

With the beginning of school year comes the nonstop party invites. Each year seems like parents try to outdo each themselves from the previous party…there’s and the other parents. So I decided to write out several blogs on different party themes.

The birthday party for the comic book nut

Whether it’s Sheldon on The Big Bang theory, or my nine year old son, any comic book aficionado will get a kick out of it. I know because I choose this theme last year for my son and it was a big hit.

 

Step one: Plan where to have party.

Since Kenny’s birthday is in January, when it’s cold and zero chance of playing in the pool or in a bouncy house, I tend to find new places in the area to book. For his ninth I chose Whirlygig, a laser tag place around the corner. There the kids could play in the arcade as well as pretend to be there favorite superhero.

 

Step Two: Cake

This is always my favorite part, researching the perfect cake and bakeries in the area. I went with cupcakes that had different comic book characters on them so the boys could choose which they preferred. With that said, here are a few other ideas.

cake1cake2

 

Step Three: Party Favors

Not only did I get small bags full of pencils, stickers and erasers, but I also had t-shirts made up with “Kenny’s 9th bday 2014” printed on the back.

Step four: Invites

I’m way to scatterbrained for paper invites, I always forget something. One year I forgot to add my rsvp number. Another year I forgot to put the date. So now I sent out emails via eventbrite.

Step Five: The piñata

With my kids, the piñata almost trumps the cake. There’s something about taking a baseball bat to a Spiderman piñata that is both horrifying and funny. Seeing the kids get rewarded with candy to be violent obviously being the horrifying part!

Skip to toolbar