Road Trips and Authors in Real Life

When your best friend asks you to take a road trip with her, you say yes. When she tells you it will be a six hour drive... you should fact check her.

Natasha Knight emailed me excitedly a few months ago and asked if I wanted to drive down to North Carolina with her for A Dark and Seductive Affair book event. She got herself a table and she was flying in from Amsterdam. Obviously, she was traveling way farther already than I was, so a short road trip down the east coast through half a dozen states should be nothing!

Her original email said it would be a six hour drive. I was picking her up in Philadelphia and then we would head south. She told me she Google mapped it. 

Me: It's six hours from Philly to Charlotte?

Mr. McKay: More like ten hours.

I rolled my eyes and looked it up myself. So, it would take somewhere between nine and ten hours, my answer didn't change. Actually, ten hours of non-stop talking sounded like a dream. With time zones and families and work our text conversations are usually snippets of crazy random things.

We set out Friday morning and we talked. Straight through. Talked on top of each other, switched topics, changed back. And laughed. I didn't know I could laugh so much in ten hours. We got in later than we intended and we ate a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa for dinner. It was already shaping up to be a great weekend!

We were still chatting three hours later as we were falling into bed.

Me: You should run for president. I would vote for you.

Natasha: I can't be president. I wasn't born here. You be president.

Me: Okay! Be my vice president?

Natasha *giving me a look*: I can't because if you die I would be president. And I can't.

Me: Oh. Want to be my first lady?

Natasha: I will totally be your first lady!

And that is how we made plans to move into the White House together. And also bring our husbands. I'm not really sure how the logistics work, but it's a good plan. At least it was at the moment. 

The next day was the book signing. I won't lie, I was really nervous to meet the other authors. I've talked to most of them on Facebook and I've read a lot of their books. But part of me was worried that maybe it was all an act. That they wouldn't be nice people and I'd wish I hadn't gone. 

I couldn't be more happy about how wrong I was. The first person we bumped into was Sue Lyndon. She seems nice online, right? She's even nicer and sweeter in person. She is also on her book signing event game and she helped us two noobs set up the table and organize things. 

The day was pretty much a whirlwind of meeting authors, hugging, laughing, picture taking: I was exhausted by lunch time. 

I think the highlight was watching people fangirl over Natasha. She is my best friend and I am proud of her and the amazing books she writes. I know she was caught off guard by the gushing but I'm glad I got to sit next to her and say, "Right? I know, she's awesome!" And I was reveling in her embarrassment—because I am that kind of friend.

After the signing, we were toting boxes back to the car in the parking garage and I stopped to pick up my sweater—while struggling with boxes—I tucked the front of my skirt behind the boxes and flashed the parking garage my panties. She stopped to take a picture so she could send it to my husband. She is that kind of friend. (And my husband wasn't even surprised to receive such a picture.)

That night was the masquerade ball. It was all fancy dresses and masks and drinks and twerking. Okay, Renee Rose was ruling the dance floor, I was sweatily gyrating and twerking on people because that's all I know.

I was excited we had some more time to talk to everyone and I think I only marginally came off like a crazy person. Somehow, Natasha convinced Livia Grant and Adaline Raine to venture upstairs with us to crash a wedding. To be fair, I think they may have felt it was their responsibility to come and supervise and ensure we didn't get arrested. We dragged Adaline onto an escalator and it was only after we were a few steps up that she went, "Oh, I really don't like escalators."

Natasha: You're okay. *Pulling Adaline in front of her* Casey's in front of you and I'm behind you. We got you.

Me: We'll flank you! *I crouch down low as the escalator travels up* Don't worry, I have roller derby skills!!

I'm still not sure what I meant by that but it made her laugh and we got her off the escalator in one piece. 

Somehow we ended up not being hungover on Sunday. Because we're adults and we know when to say when. Just kidding, it's because we drank gatorade and had good hotel room snacks.

We convened for breakfast before we trekked off on another million hour journey home. Let me tell you something, if you are going somewhere, you should invite Livia Grant. She organized everyone to meet up for breakfast and I'm pretty sure that was like herding cats. It was no small feat. She's a boss.

I know I didn't mention every single person I met this weekend, but I am overwhelmed with how nice and how real all of these women were. It really does make me feel like I am part of a community and I am proud to know them.

Meeting and hugging Katherine Deane and Renee Rose in real life was surreal because I've been friends with them for so long it was weird we just really met. Lee Savino and her sweet little flirty baby, Sue Lyndon, Adaline Raine, Alyssa Hart, Bella Bryce, Jennifer Bene, Measha Stone, Livia Grant, Zoe Blake, Addison Cain, Alta Hensley, and all of their husbands, plus ones, friends, and helpers. Not to mention the readers and event organizers. It's Thursday and I think I might almost be caught up on sleep. 

I definitely had A Dark and Seductive Affair sleep hangover and I'm not even mad about it.  

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Living in the Future

I forgot how to use a bank teller. I mean, I understand how to use a bank and to bank with an actual human, but I haven't in maybe five or six years. I use the ATM and I do everything else online. But I had all these singles and a roll of quarters from a yard sale we had and I was actually sitting on the couch wondering how I was going to deposit the cash.

I had to refresh my memory about how to use the bank. I filled out a deposit slip and everything and I still had a mini panic attack while I was there that I had done something wrong and the woman was going to tell me I couldn't deposit my money (I don't know in what parallel universe I just thought the bank would refuse my money, but it was a niggling thought).

It made me start to take into account the way life is today. We have a lot of technology at our disposal. We communicate and build friendships over social media and the internet. But in the process have we forgotten how to do everyday things?

Mr. McKay and I went out for a bite to eat recently. We sat at the bar because the restaurant was crowded and we were starving. A woman across the bar looked vaguely familiar to me, while I was trying to place her and act like I wasn't staring, she waved and smiled at me. I froze for a few seconds like I didn't know how to act like a human. If someone says hi to you, you should say hi back. Even if you aren't sure where you know them from or what they want from you. After a few awkward moments, it clicked that we had gone to high school together, but the embarrassing part was I'm friends with her on Facebook and had chatted with her recently. Yes, it is understandable that I didn't recognize her right away, but I could have been a little less weird about thinking that I knew her. 

I prefer to buy things online. I hate traffic. I hate going to the store. I hate shopping. At the food store I'll opt for the self-checkout. I have no patience for the person in front of me who decided to use the self-checkout but then needs to call someone over to help because they don't know how to ring up their own produce. This is not making my shopping experience quicker!

But when did I become such a jerk? When did the world turn into a bunch of jerks who don't have enough time for human interaction? 

I work in retail during the hours of my boring day job. 80% of the people I encounter don't speak to me in complete sentences. They don't make eye contact. They huff and sigh when the credit card machine doesn't work quick enough or my register runs out of receipt tape. Most of the time they don't end their phone call while they try to speak to me and the person on the phone simultaneously. It's annoying and frustrating.

My favorite time of day to work is early in the morning. On a week day before 10am, when the senior citizens come out. They ask me for help in finding things. They take five times as long at the register because they write out a check (who uses checks anymore?). They make eye contact when they speak to me and seem genuinely surprised when I strike up a conversation with them. They apologize for being slow and thank me for my patience. When did the world turn into a place where you have to thank people for not rushing you? I tell them I don't mind because I get paid by the hour (old men think that joke is hilarious). They tell me to have a good day and I actually believe that they mean it. 

It reminds me that it's okay to talk to the person in front of me at the self-check out. I know where the button is for cubanelle peppers so why wouldn't I share that information? And it's okay to ask the bank teller if I filled my deposit slip out correctly, even if I am a little embarrassed that I'm in my 30's and seem to have forgotten this life skill. It's okay because she's a human and I smiled and said thank you. And I told her I liked her earrings because they were cute. My laptop never wears cute earrings. 

I might forget once in a while, but in between rushing from point A to point B, I'm going to try to remember how to be a human. 

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Sometimes Muffins are Not the Answer (Sometimes)

We've been doing this thing around here lately in the McKay house. We're trying to eat low carb. I don't know how stuck to a "diet" we necessarily are but we stopped eating rolls, bagels, pasta and carb-laden things for dinner. In the past, we were going for quick and easy, it didn't take much thought. Our main dinner meal most nights was some kind of sandwich, on a roll, with chips as a side dish. Not really the food choices you should be making in your adult life. 

So, in a quest to make healthier choices and to stop eating like we're teenagers we made the slight adjustment to eat less carbs. The change hasn't been so drastic that we feel deprived. Meal prep has been discussed more often. And it really does help that Mr. McKay loves to cook, otherwise we'd be eating omelets every night if it were left up to me. (We are eating omelets for dinner like once a week because I do have sway on the menu.)

One of my favorite things to do on my day off is to bake or make breakfast. I'll make muffins or waffles. Occasionally, I'll whip up a cake or some brownies. We had bananas that were super ripe and needed to be used within the day, normally, I would make these banana crumb muffins that are to die for! I love them and will eat two at a time for breakfast because they are that good. But we're eating healthier now, muffins aren't really on the menu. 

I looked up a healthier recipe and found this banana oatmeal cup thing. It was really easy to do and we had all the ingredients. And it's healthier! (right?)

A conversation:

Me: I made banana oatmeal muffin cup things! Is oatmeal low carb?

Mr. McKay: No, it's a carb.

Me: Oh, but it's like good, right?

Mr. McKay: *shrugs*

Me (after clicking around on the internet): Yes, it's a healthy carb because it's a whole grain!

He was way less enthused about my health facts than I was.

I don't think Mr. McKay was sold on my breakfast alternative either. I think he's still mourning the muffins. But I've been eating them every morning for breakfast (30 seconds in the microwave makes them warm and gooey). And I have noticed they keep me feeling less hungry throughout the morning, which is always a good thing. 

I'll still make us some banana crumb muffins but it's not going to be an every week kind of thing.

Does anyone have any healthy eating tips or recipes? We've been eating more salads and trying to eat more vegetables and less bread. What do you guys do?

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The Price of a Good Time

The good news is I still have a headache today.

Why is that good news? No reason really except that it makes my conscience feel a little better.

Let me take you back to the beginning. I know I haven't been blogging lately and I really do have this goal to put up a post a week. But finding the physical time to even have two thoughts coalesce into anything resembling a post has been tricky.

I have a lot on my plate and recently added more things and jobs and titles and responsibilities. Because obviously, I'm a masochist. And a completely unrealistic optimist who thinks there are enough hours in the day to get everything done (there isn't).

And every once in a while I have an opportunity to go out and kick up my heels and give myself a night off. This miraculous event happened two nights ago. Roller derby practice got canceled and my teammates decided we were forgoing the physical exercise and we were going out for the night. 

I'll let you in on a secret: I like drinking. I'm a little worried that makes me sound like I have a problem so let me break it down. I like the social aspect of cooling my heels and having a couple of drinks. I like the slight buzz and the way my mind becomes singularly focused on being in the moment. I'm not thinking about bills and schedules and deadlines and to do lists. I'm thinking about the person standing in front of me that I'm conversing with. I'm thinking about the music playing. I'm thinking about all the love I have for all the people I'm sharing my night with.

It's not so different from the adrenaline rush I get on game day. Or when I slip into the writing zone and pound out a bunch of words on a new story. Anything that can take me away from the day to day minutia where I'm teetering on the edge of panic of not getting everything done is pretty much the best.

Anyway, I was out the other night and I had a good buzz going. And I did not want the night to end, I did not want that feeling to end. So I ended up having one more drink than I meant to and by the time I had eaten and come home I had a slight headache. 

Just a little niggling ache right in the front of my head, over my eyes. I drank some water and hoped sleep would knock it out. 

It did not. I woke up with a pounding headache. My morning was wasted. I tried every headache remedy I could to get the monster under control, but mostly I laid on the couch and moped.

I worried about my lack of production. I had had my morning scheduled to the minute of what I needed to accomplish before I left for an afternoon shift at the day job. So while I closed my eyes against the daylight I weighed things out in my mind. Could I be hungover? It seemed weird that I would feel this bad from having three beers the night before. But maybe I hadn't had enough water. Now I was paying for it. I deserved no sympathy, I needed to suck it up and move on. What kind of grown up let's herself get hungover when she has a million things to do?

Sure, the seasons are changing and I have been a little congested. It could be a sinus headache, but I didn't want to let myself off the hook with a flimsy excuse. I powered through my shift, came home with the same headache, and stumbled into bed feeling guilty as ever.

I woke up this morning with the same headache. My nose is running and my throat kind of hurts. Hooray! I'm not an irresponsible jerk after all. I just have a sinus thing going on. 

I let myself have a lazy morning and I'm heating up some soup. It shouldn't matter I guess, the source of my headache. But it does give me peace of mind that I didn't sabotage myself. And that I am allowed to go out and have a few beers and let myself shut off for a bit.

After all, I can't control the seasons. Or my stupid allergies.

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When the Lights Go Out...

I don't know about you, but sometimes I get so wrapped up in the "big picture" that little things can pass me by.

So much is going on in the world. So much that takes our attention and seems to need our immediate response. My mind is constantly preoccupied these days as I follow the news and try to figure out what I am doing that's making a difference. 

But there's still day to day life. There still needs to be food in the fridge and some kind of dinner plan (does anyone else feel like 90% of their day is trying to figure out dinner?) and not forgetting to get gas before you go to work and shit did I forget to wash my work pants again?

Maybe you have it a little more together than me. I envy you if you do. 

Last night, I settled into bed and found a show on Netflix to fall asleep by. I can't sleep in silence and the light from the TV helps Mr. McKay find his way to bed. About forty minutes after I had tucked myself in I sat up with a startled gasp. I blinked against the pitch black that had consumed me, trying to clear my eyes and squint to see. 

I heard Mr. McKay coming up the stairs. I grabbed my cell phone, using the screen as a flashlight. 

"The power's out," he said as he met me in the hallway.

I grabbed a flashlight from the closet. "That's weird."

It was weird. It wasn't windy or snowing, or doing anything outside that would make you think some power lines got knocked down. 

We made our way to our bed and settled beneath the blankets without the glow of the TV between us. We talked for a few minutes. I was groggy from the short amount of sleep I'd already had. But then a thought occurred to me.

"Is everyone's power out?"

"Yeah... I think."

"Did you pay the electric bill?" There was one thing I knew for certain, I had not paid it. 

The division of labor in our house is fairly even. Cooking, cleaning, food shopping—all that stuff doesn't fall on just one person and I am grateful for it. The same with the bills, but it becomes a little tricky when we have a conversation that: "the cable bill, car insurance, and electric bill need to be paid." Sometimes I think this conversation means he is handling it, sometimes he thinks my acknowledgment of this conversation means I am doing it. In the end, they all get paid.

Usually.

"Yeah," he said in a way that did not invoke confidence. Then he lit the flashlight and walked to the window to peer through the blinds. "Everyone's out, streetlights too."

"Okay, good."

He climbed back in beside me and I snuggled into him. "I knew I paid it," he whispered into the dark, almost as if he was assuring himself. 

I woke up a few hours later to blinking clocks and the low hum of electronics around us.

We're trying to be good neighbors and good citizens. We often feel powerless in these uncertain times. I don't think we should lose sight of the big picture, of the world around us, of issues bigger than those in our everyday lives. 

But we remembered to pay the electric bill. And I have milk in the fridge for my morning coffee. I just realized there is still a container of pineapple stuck in the back, way past its prime that's slowly decaying because we keep forgetting to toss it when we take the garbage out. We'll get to it eventually.

We keep ourselves informed and support the causes we care about. And we can still make each other laugh when we're plunged into darkness for some unexplained reason. That's the hope that I cling to.

"By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness"—Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

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Becoming Un-stuck

Hi everyone! We are 10 days into 2017 and the only conclusion I have come to is that I really, really hate cold weather.

Other than that, this year is treating me fine. 

Last year was not my best year for writing. Believe it or not I set goals every week. I try to complete projects and get them out there to share with the world. Apparently, 2016 was not my year for that. I had the best intentions. But it was a weird year.

Anyway, having published one book in 2016 makes it kind of easy to at least double if not triple my output this year. I've been doing some reflection in trying to figure out what exactly stunted my creativity.

The conclusion I came to (without going into every minute factor that affected my daily life) is that I don't think my creativity was the problem. I think it came down to motivation, time, and the actual joy I was getting out of writing. 

Just recently I started revising the very first book I wrote and published, Catch a Falling Star. It's funny to read something that I wrote four years ago. It's weird to see how much my writing style has changed, while pretty much staying the same. 

Sure, I cringe at some of the things in there. The way I wrote things, the words I used. Apparently, I really, really loved commas (I don't think that's changed). But I'll tell you what's refreshing about looking back at this book, remembering how it just kind of burst out of me. 

Yeah, I didn't know what I was doing. But I wasn't writing it for anyone. I didn't even think anyone was going to read it. I didn't care. I was just writing. Creating my own world with my own characters, just for me. 

I don't write like that anymore and I am wondering if that is part of the problem. I'm too much in my own head "are people going to buy this?" "what will readers think if I write this?"

When I wrote this first book I didn't think about any of that. I didn't care because it wasn't even a factor.

Somehow writing evolved from, "this thing I love and make time for" to "this thing I try to do." I don't know when it stopped feeling like an outlet and started feeling like work. I think I got into the mindset that if I kept pushing on it would feel right again. 

And I don't even think I realized it happened until I started reading Catch a Falling Star and I found myself smiling. When was the last time that happened? When was the last time I sat down at my laptop and didn't worry about this scene developing the characters, or the dialogue moving the plot along? 

When was the last time I was excited about writing?

Too long. I'll tell you that. 

I'm thinking about not thinking about it too much.

I'm planning on having less of a plan. 

I'm going to stop being in my head and let my heart have a bigger role.

Maybe it will be a disaster. Maybe I'll be sitting here on January 10th 2018 saying, "Guys, that was a really stupid thing I decided to do."

I'm okay with that. 

On that note, I do have a couple of projects in the pipeline. One book that I have been working on for months. I'm getting to the end of it and I think it might actually be pretty good. 

A second book that came out of a dream I had one night. It's still in the thinking out process, but it's been rumbling around in my head for a month or two now. Sometimes I think I write the best when I let the idea ferment for a while. 

It's going to be different than the usual thing from me. We'll see how it turns out. 

I won't know until I try.

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New Year, New You? Probably Not.

I will take this moment to wish all of you a Happy and Healthy New Year, because that is what you do at the beginning of the new year, right? But does that mean that I don't care if you're happy and healthy in July? I mean I guess the January wish is supposed to carry through all year long. I'm just saying, just because it's the dawn of the new year doesn't mean anything has changed. 

I want my friends and family to always be healthy and happy.

I'm not a resolution person, mostly for this reason. The same reason why I don't believe in diets or any other kind of "Change your life overnight!" thing. It's crap. 

It is a new year, yes, technically, it is a new beginning. But we're all the same people we were two days ago. Nothing is going to change just because we wish it will. 

I am an optimistic person by nature, I don't want anyone to think I'm being negative here. I guess I'm just being realistic. Yes, I also thought, "Goodbye 2016! You sucked. I'm not sad to see you go. 2017 will be so much better!"

Then today, on January 2nd, I woke up with a crippling headache. I'm not surprised by this, I have been headache prone my entire life. Waking up with a headache is the worst. And mostly my first thought is always, "Shit, what did I drink last night??"

Truthfully, I did have a few beers yesterday and I had a headache all afternoon because once in a while a very hoppy beer will hit me the wrong way (yet, I still drink them, because who doesn't like a little Russian roulette to liven up their life?). 

I was headache free when I went to bed last night and then woke up with a beastly one. It's a sinus headache, it's pretty much under control now. There are still hoof beats in the background, but I'm not letting it ruin my day.

My point is—is 2017 off to a kick ass start? No. I spent all day yesterday exhausted because I only slept 5 hours the night before. Today, I have an awful headache. Does that mean my entire year is shot?

Well, let's hope not. But I fear a lot of my friends would think exactly that. At least judging by their ever hopeful facebook posts. 

It's a new year and it's a clean slate, but I'm still the same person. I'm still going to get headaches and not make it to the gym as much as I should. I'm still going to procrastinate. I'm still going to drink hoppy beers and then curse myself for it. 

But I'm also going to remember to enjoy the little things. I'm going to make time to see friends. I'm going to work out, not because I should but because I feel better when I do. I'm going to cook more with my husband because I love him and I love eating (best of both worlds). I'm going to continue setting goals for myself. 

But when I don't meet them I'm not going to beat myself up. I'm going to try harder.

It's not a new me, it's the same me. 

So, my friends, I wish you more good days than bad days. I hope you laugh more than you cry. I hope you discover what makes you happy and you hold onto it. I hope you remember that one day does not define you.

I hope in this new year that you are still the same you.

A Happy and Healthy everything to everyone! 

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Something to Hang by the Fire

It's been a weird year. It feels like it's been an unbelievably long year and in many ways I don't feel like the same person that started it out.

A major change this year is that I finally upgraded to a smartphone. This sounds like a strange thing to single out in this year of emotions and events and lots of very not so good things. But I'm realizing more and more that it has changed my every day life. And it also scares me how much I have come to rely on it and how much it knows about me! Why does it know things about me?? It's scary.

Anyway, aside from never being lost ever again (for the directionally challenged, GPS on my phone is literally the best thing ever), I can now check my email 4,000 times a day.

A fun fact: there is no reason why you should ever need to check your email this much. Another fact: I never get important emails. 

I have about four email addresses that I use frequently. The one linked up to my phone is my main, real name, the one I don't give out to email lists, way to get in touch with me. Currently, I am stuck in a group email with extended family about the best date to get together for Christmas at my grandmother's. I'm mostly staying out of it and pretending I haven't checked my email 4,000 and one times today. I'm going to see how it all shakes out and then plan my illness accordingly. 

It wasn't until the smartphone and the easy accessibility to this email that I realized at one point in time I made an error in judgment and gave Frederick's of Hollywood my main email address. Not really a big deal. I could unsubscribe. 

But I haven't because I am completely enthralled by just how many emails they send in one day. And how many sales they have! So many sales!

I mean, I am a huge supporter of purchasing lingerie. My love of shopping kind of died when I became an adult and had actual bills to pay, I no longer get a thrill out of buying new clothes. Instead, occasionally, I am forced to buy new yoga pants because all of the ones I own have random holes in them and aren't even safe to wear when bringing out the trash.  

But cute underwear? I'll buy that all day long. Especially on sale!

I get an average of three emails a day from Frederick's of Hollywood. I know, right? It should be annoying. I should be forced right into the unsubscribe territory. But instead, it kind of delights me. 

All of them have such urgency. TIME IS RUNNING OUT

Oh, man. Time is running out, what am I missing?

BIGGEST SALE OF THE YEAR!

Is it though?

One of my favorites, marketed toward the gentlemen:

Get Her The BIGGEST Gift

Obviously, yeah, you should do that. Of course, my curiosity was piqued so I opened it. Did you know a giftcard is always the right size? Clever.

Anyway, it's become a running joke in my house and part of my everyday. My phone will buzz and blink and make some weird noise (I still have no idea how to set my sounds and tones). 

"Oh my god, babe, I just got a super important email."

My husband looks up from his laptop.

"Cyber Monday is back!"

He's started responding to me with subject lines of Victoria's Secret emails that inundate his inbox. 

So our typical dinner conversation has turned into,

Me: Your 48 hours of savings is almost up. What are you doing right now??

Him: Oh, sorry, I was shopping for gifts for my naughty and nice list!

I have been shopping for stocking stuffers. It is the one tradition that stands, Mr. McKay gets a stocking full of lingerie. But I don't fall into the trap of thinking my time is limited on this sale. The only thing that is limited is the amount of time you have to purchase that lace trimmed thong in a large in Prism Violet, because they never have a large in the color I want! Okay, sometimes they do, but I'm telling you, don't wait too long. Today it's 50% off, tomorrow it might only be 30% off with a free shipping code (sometimes the better deal if you ask me).

TIME IS RUNNING OUT

(It really isn't, but it's nice to feel like I have something urgent going on.)

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Crying~It's Not for the Faint of Heart

I'm an emotional person. I don't know if I cry more than the average person, but I think I tend to cry at inopportune moments. 

This past week one of these inopportune moments occurred at my job. My day job has been stressful and frustrating lately. There have been staff changes, schedule changes—pretty much every day I go in I am faced with a long day of chaos. At the end of one of these particularly long days I ended up getting into a spirited discussion with my new boss. 

Feelings of frustration, exasperation that I wasn't being heard, and anger at the patronizing tone and bullshit excuses that were being thrown my way all accumulated. I had a brief vision of telling my boss exactly where he could stick his job and giving my fellow co-workers a one-fingered salute as I dashed for the exit. The daydream was satisfying.

The reality is I like having health insurance coverage.

So I pushed the anger down and plunged back into reality to have a very uncomfortable confrontation in a workplace environment. Except, the feelings were all still there. I had crunched them all down, but they were dying to get out. So my eyes started to water. I felt it and ignored it.

Blink. Blink.

And then my bottom lip did this quivering thing. 

I bit on it and trapped it between my teeth. 

But not before my boss saw it. 

He gave me a horrified look—oh no, crying female. "Don't get upset."

This comment heaped on top of the patronizing tone only made things worse. "I'm not upset," I forced out in a measured and even voice. I took a deep breath and a second to center myself. I wished I could have explained to him that I literally had rage leaking out of my eyeballs. That, no, he didn't make me cry. I made myself cry by deciding not to fly off the handle. I wouldn't let the anger out, so it converted itself into something else and tried to slip out some other way.

Of course, I didn't explain this, but I did take the opportunity of him being thrown off balance by the "almost tears" for a few moments to speak my piece. 

Upon reflection, I thought of all of the other inappropriate moments where I shed a few tears during the course of my life. Because that's what I do, when something in my life happens I get a recurring slide show of every other little thing in my life that went wrong or embarrassed me. 

My reflection on these situations made me realize that crying gets a bad rap. It's looked on as a weakness and mostly a very feminine thing. If you're crying about something you obviously can't handle it. You're a basket case and no one wants to listen to you.

Thankfully, I married a man who doesn't discount me when I'm being emotional about something. If I'm worked up and crying, I think he listens more carefully. He won't write me off, he'll ask me what's going on. It wasn't always like that. I think I did have to prove to him that I can have a rational conversation about something while I'm crying, sometimes I just can't control it. And if I can't be myself with my one true love then what is the point of anything?

Some moments that I have shed a few tears that maybe were not ideal:

The night I lost my virginity.

Technically it wasn't even at night. It was midafternoon. And it happened to be with my now husband. I'm not sure why I cried. It didn't hurt, although I think I scared the shit out of him and he thought he mortally wounded me. There was so much build up to this one moment in time. And then it happened. I loved this man so much. I still do and I did even before we had sex. But something about it just wrenched my emotions out of me and I wound up crying as I laid in his bed.

I couldn't explain all of that at the moment. And I am sure I'm romanticizing a lot of it. But there was so much love and emotion welled up inside of me that I wept openly. Probably not what any guy wants to experience, but it was an honest reaction.

Our wedding night.

Again, not really the usual reaction that a girl has to marriage. It wasn't like a replay of the night I lost my virginity because we didn't even have sex that night. It had been a whirlwind of a week. Emotions ran high. Lots of money was shelled out. We made it to the finish line. I was a little drunk, my ribs were bruised (perhaps broken) from the torture device I wore under my gown. I was exhausted. I was happy. I was overwhelmed. 

I was crying next to my husband of ten hours in a hotel room bed at 3am. 

This was a huge milestone in my life. One I planned for and dreamed of for a long time. And it was over. Now what?

"Now we're married," the ever practical Mr. McKay replied in the dark to his weeping wife beside him.

"But, it's over, what do we do now?"

"Go to sleep."

He was right. I slept and life went on. Sometimes I think I get so overwhelmed by the next step and just life in general that I don't know how to process it.

Playing roller derby.

I know what you're thinking, "Of course you cried during roller derby, you broke your ankle in three places last year." I didn't cry when I broke my ankle. It didn't even hurt until the next day. I did cry when they told me it was broken and I realized I was going to miss most of the season, but I don't think that's a very unusual thing, plenty of people would cry about that.

This season I am back and I've hit a good stride. I went from inexperienced newbie, never getting rostered for any games, to someone who is playing in all of the games. A team, B team, I've played in a lot of games this season and enjoyed the hell out of every single one of them. 

My first A team game was in August. We drove five hours to get there. We left our husbands and wives behind, our kids and our jobs, and we took a crazy road trip. We were playing a team that outranked us. We were tired, but we were using everything we've been working on this season. When the whistle blew at the end of the first half I followed my teammates into the locker room and I was swamped with emotion. 

At this time last year, I was broken. At this time last year, my team was not playing like this. We'd all worked really hard in one year to get where we were and I was so proud. My eyes misted over as we filed into the locker room.

"Are you crying?" a concerned teammate asked me.

"No," I lied, as a tear escaped and ran down my cheek. "I just love you guys so much. I love playing with you."

"Oh, man, she's crying!"

"I'm not!" I was.

"Now I'm crying," more than one person echoed.

There were lots of sweaty group hugs. And we played even harder the second half, we barely lost and we over-played everyone's expectations—even our own.

Other things that make me cry: kittens, really good endings to books, sports documentaries I watch with my husband...

The list could go on. But the thing is I laugh a lot too. I smile a lot. It's really easy to be my friend, just be nice to me and we're good. I don't want to paint the picture that I am some kind of sobbing lunatic all the time. 

My emotions are always bubbling at the surface and I have a hard time hiding them. But my point is, crying gets a bad wrap. Not every person who cries is weak. Sometimes people are just trying to control themselves from hip checking you into the wall. 

The next time you cry, don't apologize for it. And the next time someone cries in front of you, ask them why they're crying. Their answer might surprise you. 

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Shame Gardening and a "Punishment" Spanking

Mr. McKay and I live in a townhouse (he likes to say- "This is our Tiny House," when I watch Tiny House Nation on HGTV), our neighbors are close because we share walls with them.

We try our best to be friendly. I don't need to be friends with all of them, but it's nice to say hi to the people you share a porch with. Or to know that someone will let you borrow their snow shovel to dig your car out if yours happens to break during a blizzard.

A new neighbor moved in next door to us in the beginning of the summer. She has been dubbed "the weird dog lady." I know we shouldn't talk. We can easily be the weird cat people. But, she's weird. 

She's nice enough, and we have worked up to getting her to say hi. Before she would act like she didn't see us and then dart back into her house. Or wait in her car until we passed by before she got out to walk to her door. Maybe she was sizing us up. Now, she does say hello to us, but it always has a theme. She either mentions our cats, which she sees in our big front picture window, or she says something about the landscaping crew that comes once a week.

She likes to garden. Now mind you, we live in townhouses, each of us has a tiny little 2'x4' patch of dirt in front of the front window that has shrubs in it. Our community has a housing association and they send out a landscaping crew. We still aren't clear—after 7 years of living here—if it is our responsibility to weed this little plot of land, or their's.

Some people plant a few flowers in there, the lawn crew seems to leave them all alone. The most we ever do is Mr. McKay will buy new mulch every spring to throw under the shrubs and cover up the weeds that are growing there. We also have some flowers growing in a tiny sliver of dirt beside our back deck. 

I am not a gardener. I don't enjoy any part of it. Dirt. Bugs. Sweat. It's not my cup of tea. We never had neighbors that did much to the outside of their house. And now this lady moves in and she's making our half-assed mulching look sad compared to her vast garden.

I don't really care if people look and judge. I have been making myself nervous that she is going to report us to the housing association for out of control weeds or dead flowers. You do not want the housing association on your back. They leave letters in your door and threaten to fine you. We have had notices about our back porch light (the globe around the bulb was cracked), ivy growing on the front of our house, and an old picnic table that our landlords left here that the association thought looked "rickety." Well, it was rickety, but it also wasn't ours. 

So we have these flowers out back. And they all died. My mother in law mentioned that if we cut the heads off they would re-bloom. They also kind of spread and started growing in the cracks of our deck and I kept saying we should do something about that. (Really hoping Mr. McKay was going to take the hint because he likes doing garden-y things more than me.)

The flowers before they died. Picture this mess but dead and brown.

I built up the paranoia in my mind and was convinced that weird dog lady was going to report our lazy gardening skills to the housing association. This weekend the weather was beautiful, it was mild and sunny. So I ventured out back. Ten minutes into my foray in gardening I had tiny cuts in my hands, I kept screeching when a bug flew in my face, and despite the cool breeze I was sweating. But I was barely halfway through and couldn't abandon the project because then it would look really obvious I had started to make an effort and decided against it. 

Forty-five minutes later all of the dead flowers had been removed. Weeds had been pulled up and things looked tidier. Whether or not the flowers would re-bloom was yet to be determined, but I had dirt under my nails and grass in my flip flops so I was done.

Meanwhile, the night before we had a late dinner. When it comes to dinner we have unspoken roles that we've never discussed. Mr. McKay normally cooks (he likes to, I hate it) and then I will pack up leftovers and clean up. I am not a night person and we ended up eating so late that I was almost immediately falling asleep on the couch. 

Dinner never got packed away.

At 8am I discovered the leftovers still out in the kitchen. I packed them up, wondering if I was going to kill us both with food poisoning in doing so—it was chicken. After stowing them in the fridge I left for work and had second thoughts about saving the leftovers, even though it kills me to throw food away.

So I texted Mr. McKay, he works from home and usually has whatever we had for dinner the night before for lunch. I warned him that the leftovers were probably no good and we should toss them. His reply? "I'll deal with you later."

Yum! Yes, please! (Am I not supposed to be that eager?)

I nearly forgot about this threat (or promise, really). 

Until I was back inside the house after my foray in gardening. I took a shower to wash the outside off of me and I came out of the bathroom in a puff of steam, my wet hair dripping down my back. Mr. McKay trailed behind me, following me into our bedroom. As I slipped on fresh panties and rifled through the laundry basket for a shirt, he snagged me by the waist. 

"Gardening makes you grumpy," he observed as he kissed me.

I agreed. 

"I can fix that."

Before I asked him how he intended to fix my mood, he stood up and pulled my panties down. He pushed me forward until my thighs hit the bed and I was forced to bend over. Now I am all about an impromptu spanking, but I wasn't exactly in the right mood. For one, I WAS grumpy, I was also tired. I kind of felt like napping, not like getting my freak on.

But I am sure I am not the only person in the world who has a partner whose kinks don't exactly line up with mine. I feel like it took a long time for me to convince him that spanking me whenever was fine. He didn't have to ask. We didn't have to talk about it. He didn't have to wait for me to request it. So I wasn't about to undo all of this progress by complaining I was tired and putting a halt to everything.

So I went with it. And it hurt at first. A lot. He was only using his hand, but I wriggled around and said 'ow' a lot and wondered why I liked this to begin this. Do I like this? 

Then I took a few deep breaths and settled into it and stopped thinking so much. And he didn't stop. But a flip switched somewhere and instead of it hurting and instead of being tired, I was arching my back and opening my legs. He'd smack and then caress and reach down between my thighs. Now things were on the right track.

Next he picked up the Magic Wand. He turned it on and placed it under me so it was sandwiched between my clit and the bed. Then he got the flogger. Much lighter than his hand, but enough to reignite the sting that was already there.

It all got to be too much, I started arching off the bed so I could move away from the vibrations. But every time I did, Mr. McKay put a firm hand on my lower back and pushed me back down.

The flogger, the control, the vibrator. It was all too much. I was either going to die or come until my brain exploded. Well, my brain didn't exactly explode. But things got fuzzy.

He pulled me up onto the bed and kissed and caressed until I regained use of my limbs. Things progressed and we made an afternoon of it, until we finally had to come up for air because our growling stomachs could no longer be ignored.

As I staggered from the bed to again find my underwear and some clean clothes, Mr. McKay pulled me close and whispered, "That'll teach you."

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The McKay's Summer Vacation

A trend that has involuntarily occurred since the beginning of our marriage is that we've never gone on vacation. We've had "staycations" which normally involve fun things like organizing closets. We've had weekend getaways, which most of the time isn't worth the fuss of packing and traveling, you're right back home before you know it. And lately, the new thing is going on trips that are all derby related. I'm not complaining about that, I love that my husband loves the sport I'm obsessed with, but they aren't really vacations.

This summer, we promised to take a trip down south to visit my inlaw's new house. They built a house to retire in, even though they are still living up here for now. So their gorgeous house snugged up against a golf course has become their vacation home for the time being. 

We went for six days and it was delightful. I never realized how important it was to get away for a bit. It also made me realize that you can take Mr. McKay and I out of our element, but that doesn't change us in the least. 

We were walking through an antique store with my mother in law—only it wasn't really an antique store, it was new stuff made to look old that gets sold to rich people. Anyway, for whatever reason there were giant bird cages in there. Mr. McKay made some comment to the effect of, "Casey doesn't like these." Gesturing at the assortment of cages. I thought he was referencing my fear of birds.

His mother ambled away browsing around and he tugged me toward an oversized cage that was probably about four feet high.

"What kind of bird would you put in there?" I asked. I realized it was probably just for decorative purposes, but I was having a hard time even visualizing what one would do with a four-foot tall bird cage.

"You could fit in there," he said. Then leaned in closer. "I could lock you up, it'd be kinky."

I whipped my head around to check the proximity of his mother and then punched him in the arm. He never fails to be amused by my talk of BDSM likes and dislikes. I've read books where submissives are locked in cages, and I get that it is a thing people like. I just don't think I ever would want that in real life. I brought this up to Mr. McKay one day. Not that I think he would ever ask to lock me in a cage, but just putting it out there that I'm not okay with it. 

He had so many questions. What was I reading? Where was this cage and how did this get brought up in the story? Now he just likes to tease me with this bit of information at inopportune moments, like say, when we're antiquing with his mother. 

Antique stores have a lot of weird things in them. It makes you wonder why people save certain things and why they think other people will want to buy the crap they held on to. 

Aside from antiquing, it was too hot to do anything of note except lay inside the air conditioning all day and then go out to dinner. So we mostly laid around, drank and watched the Olympics. Then went to dinner and drank some more. It was the perfect vacation!

There were a few things I learned:

1. Air mattresses are not meant for long term sleeping arrangements and will make you feel like you are 80 when you get up in the morning. 

2. The Olympics make me cry, from the little touching stories they put together of the Olympians, to an underdog winning gold, to the medal ceremonies. I teared up too many times to count.

3. I like grits. And shrimp and grits are my new favorite thing!

4. Doing nothing on vacation away from home is far more relaxing than doing nothing in your own house.

5. I can map out an entire book on a nine hour car ride home. I think I remembered most of it too!

Anyone do anything fun this summer? The season is rapidly drawing to close. I like the fall and everything but it always makes a little sad to see the summer come to an end.

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