My Sexy Saturday #MSS162

This week's "My Sexy Saturday" theme is "Sexy in History".  This is a snippet from my soon to be released book, "Steele and Stone", which reveals a bit of the swarmy history of the company Michael works for.  Will he continue to work for them?

“Well, the partner is out of the country. So I don’t know if that means he’s a foreign investor, or what. I don’t know what to think. They’ve let me use their conference room, which tells me they are warming up to the idea, but I haven’t heard a peep from the other guy. Zilch.”

“Do you know his name yet?”

“Nope. Sorry, Uncle, but Randall let it slip that he was foreign,” he lied, consciously leaving Elle out of the equation. If John knew what he suspected, he would launch a full-scale background check on her, digging up who knows what and completely invading her privacy. John knew no boundaries, but Michael did, and information freely listed on the Internet was as far as he would go.

“So offer them a few thousand more. See what that does.”

“A few thousand? I don’t see how that will increase our bargaining power any. We’ve already offered them full current net worth as it is. I think we should offer them at least a hundred thousand more, based on their current contracts. Also, it seems that Randall wants an agreement that we will keep the current staff.”

John shrugged. “Maybe he wants a new car out of it. A golden parachute and all that. You know the type. We can discuss the final offer tomorrow at the office. As far as the staff, go ahead and agree to it. Write something up, but keep the wording vague and open to interpretation. When we sell them, it won’t matter anyway.”

Michael hated knowing John already had plans to sell Stone Mountain Partners for a profit almost immediately after the acquisition. All the kind negotiations regarding staff and benefits were purely for show. It felt so dirty, and they had done it many times before.

***Available for PRE-ORDER!***

***Release date NOVEMBER 2, 2016***

      My Sexy Saturday ( http://www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com/ ) has provided a great place for authors to showcase snippets of their works.  7 words, 7 sentences, or 7 paragraphs.

12 Lessons 2012 Taught Me

Some of the lessons that 2012 taught me were the same old things rehashed.  I guess they keep getting thrown at me because I haven't learned them yet.  But, some of them were new.  Some of them were random.  And some of them were left off this list, not because they are any less important, but because my brain is mac-n-cheese.  I’m sure I’ll think of a hundred more items later.

 

 

1.       The importance of BRAVERY.  Sometimes the lessons we need to learn take our whole lives. That’s why we are still here, even though some days are very, very dark.  We were brave souls to choose to come here to begin with, but sometimes, in these frail bodies, we forget that. 

2.       Life goes on.  I lost my grandfather on October 25.  I hardly ever say anything with certainty because I know that life will inevitably find some way to prove me wrong, but this fact I do know for certain… He was the bravest and best man I will ever know. 

 

3.       Aristotle’s theory of the “Unmoved Mover”, which I find fascinating. 

4.       I look damn sexy in a Chuck E. Cheese blow up crown.

 

5.       Life is unpredictable (I already knew this but it was reaffirmed).  I went on a hike to Mary Jane Falls up at Mt. Charleston and a rockslide occurred, sending pebbles and sand raining down on us from a high cliff.  They stung!  It could have so easily been larger rocks or boulders.  It was over in about 30 seconds and everyone scurried away unharmed, but it was quite scary as we had no idea what was going to come barreling off that cliff at us next.

6.       I have a facet joint problem in my hips which occasionally causes me excruciating pain.  Excellent. 

 

7.       Female desert tortoises hump each other.

 

8.       The power of truth. 

9.        Magic happens.  Anyone that knows me knows that I am a Disneyland nut.  I don’t care what some people might think of it, I love going there!  I was lucky to go there twice this year.  Once alone (which was actually kind of sad at first but ended up being one of the most magical times I’ve ever had there), and the second time with my sister (for her first trip). 

10.       I don’t like cream cheese in my sushi.  No sir, I don’t like it.  Makes me want to hurl.

11.       My limits in putting up with bullshit from people.  This was a fuzzy area before 2012, but I’m thankful that I reached my breaking point.  Now I know where it is, and that information is valuable. 

12.       That people really do like my art, and my writing.  As a creative person, I am extremely critical of my own stuff, as all artists are.  The past couple years I’ve decided to take some big chances, and they have paid off.  It’s scary, really scary, but it is so encouraging to know that people are genuinely interested in my creations.  I’m humbled…and terrified.

I wonder what lessons await me in 2013...

 

What is Home?

 

I’ve heard many iterations of what “home” means to people. All definitions are varied and all are relevant. But, the definition changes depending on the experience of the individual defining it. For some, home might be a scary place; an uncomfortable, dark nightmare. For others, it could be a magical, happy place. My personal definition fell more toward the happy side of the spectrum, thankfully, at least in relation to my childhood home.

But, that home is different now. It is empty. It is dark. It is lonely. It echoes.

A year ago I didn’t know how empty a home could feel when the faces associated with it were gone. I don't think I ever truly realized that a home is only a shell. No amount of upgrades can change the fact that the four walls of a home encompass a hollow building. And, given a few years left to the elements, it’s amazing how much nature starts to reclaim that shell.

Or, is it not a shell, but maybe a seed? Yes, maybe it is seed. Maybe a home is cyclic, like a plant. My childhood home flowered in my youth, in the magical days, and now it has withered and sets in a dormant mode ready to flower again. It needs water. It needs nourishment. It needs care.

But, I’ll never make the mistake again of thinking that a home is a “where”, because that would mean that it is defined by the property on which it stands. No, a home is a “what”, because it is what you make of it. It is what you put into it. It is what you give it, and what it gives back to you. Rather it’s a castle or a modest 3 bedroom 2 bath 63 year old ranch-style sitting on an acre of overgrown weeds.

 

Free Gifts

I just realized that even though next week is my 39^th birthday, it actually signifies the completion of 40 laps around the sun.  Not 39.  We don’t celebrate the day we are actually born as our first birthday; we celebrate it a year later, after completing our first lap.  So, coming upon 40 laps, I’ve had some thoughts.

First, I don’t feel 40 (or 39, or whatever).  Second, sometimes I feel 12, sometimes I feel 99.  But, never 40.

 

Last year, right around my birthday, I came up with the idea that I am “adaptable” rather than “moldable”.  I think that still holds true.  Being adaptable is a conscious effort on the part of humans.  We allow ourselves to adapt.  It’s a decision we can always back out of.  And, if it is a conscious choice, it is a good thing, right?  Maybe yes, maybe no.  It depends on the circumstances revolving around the choice to adapt.  Are we choosing to do so based on what is the best for us, or what “other’s” think is the best for us? 

Being adaptable is a gift, a wonderful present called “free will” that we were all given the day we are born.  It is non-refundable and non-returnable.  It’s a gift that we are all free to use every day.

How are we going to use it?

A Love Story

One hot summer day in Phoenix, a debonair Mr. Fox took a stroll down the street with his brother and saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.  Such blinding beauty caused him to stumble off the sidewalk and fall smack on his butt (a stunt he would never live down).  Nevertheless, he calmly introduced himself to the stunning stranger found himself utterly mesmerized, so beguiled in fact that he went to the home of his fiancé and cancelled their wedding plans (to her merit, the stranger was not aware that he was engaged). 

Mr. Fox was ensnared by this fascinating woman who defied the “norm” not only by hunting and bootlegging, but by wearing pants.  Men’s blue jeans in fact. The audacity!  But, she cleaned up well and they were married for over 60 years.  They had two children, who had four children, who had five children, who had six children; none of whom would have come to be if he hadn’t fallen off the curb at her feet that fateful day.

My great-grandmother, that sly, pants-wearing bootlegger, would have been 106 today.  And if she were still here, I know she would tell me dirty jokes just like she always did (and making this girl blush is difficult!).   And if Mr. Fox were here, he would be grinning ear to ear, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that he made the right decision.

Horn of Plenty

Part of the Cornucopia’s interesting history...

(From Wikipedia)

The cornucopia became the attribute of several Greek and Roman deities, particularly those associated with the harvest, prosperity, or spiritual abundance, such as personifications of Earth (Gaia or Terra); the nymph Maia; and Fortuna, the goddess of luck, who had the power to grant prosperity. In Roman Imperial cult, abstract Roman deities who fostered peace (pax Romana) and prosperity were also depicted with a cornucopia, including Abundantia, "Abundance" personified, and Annona, goddess of the grain supply to the city of Rome. Pluto, the classical ruler of the underworld in the mystery religions, was a giver of agricultural, mineral and spiritual wealth and in art often holds a cornucopia to distinguish him from the gloomier Hades, who holds a drinking horn instead.

(Painting by Jacob Jordaens, "Cornucopia")