Goodbye You F*cking Horrible Year

I cannot think of anything more appropriate to use as a title on the last day of this particular page in the calendar. Except maybe worse language, but since my kid occasionally reads the blog I will abstain. I can't remember a year when I've felt so disgusted I get nauseated just thinking about looking back to find a good memory. Well, I did the disaster that was my quilting year post.

Positives: I cooked a lot. I quilted a little. Katherine graduated college. I wrote some stories and one novel for myself. I held onto my job. I nearly failed and then won NaNoWriMo, and got my mojo back. I skipped Christmas almost entirely this year. Celebrated Edward and Katherine's birthdays. And I didn't get the virus. That's it.

I know next year won't be perfect for all the reasons I wrote the other day and don't want to revisit, but ANYTHING will be better than this year. I am back in my ivory writing tower now, and it's lovely in here. I have my friends to talk to, and the family down in Casa Valerean to look after, and that is enough to keep me going.

I wish you a peaceful and healthy New Year's Eve during which you get to relax, celebrate safely and kiss someone you love.

And good riddance to the ugly, nasty, stupid, hateful nonstop rubbish that was 2020.

HB, Baby

Happy 26th birthday to my baby girl. :)

Better or Worse

I've been trying to think of something upbeat to write today. We're heading into what I think will be the nightmare scenario of the pandemic, and the situation in Washington isn't much more optimistic. I think the economy is going to take a major nose dive very soon, too.

We're all exhausted and emotionally drained, women in particular. It's always up to us to hold things together and keep everyone going and do the extra work and not complain. I know I have, and I haven't griped about it. You do what you have to for the ones you love, even when they're too messed up by life to reciprocate.

So that's the downside, the worst of what we're dealing with, and that's all I'm going to write about that. You all are living it, you know what it is. I hope we'll all do what we can to be kind to ourselves now and in the dark times to come.

When Edward and I were younger we sacrificed a lot of life's luxuries and pleasures to see to it that we'd be secure at this point in our lives, and we've made an ongoing committment to remaining debt-free. As a result we're okay, and we should be able to go on helping our kids.

I am still employed, I've gotten my mojo back, and I've started writing my own stories again, which are three things I didn't think would happen this year. I have very good friends who keep dragging my sorry self out of the black pits (for which I thank you so much.) All of those things go in the better column.

I have no plans for next year except to hold on, do what I have to, and write. I'm writing every day and the words keep coming, strong and sure and beautiful, and they are really saving my ass, too. If I have the time and inclination to quilt I will, but right now the only thing that truly makes me happy is the work.

That's it. For better or worse, we're here. Let's do this.

Quilting 2020

It's time for my annual review of the quilting year, which for me kind of looked like this:

Although I had an ambitious plan for my quilting this year, 2020 was such a disaster for me creatively I'm surprised I got anything done. So I'm just going to look back on what I was able to do and not worry about it.

Things started out okay with Theo's quilt.

I got started on my silk crazy quilt project, which ended up crashing and burning like the Hindenburg. Still, I got two blocks completed before the world went to hell. What follows from here will be slightly out of order, month-wise, and doesn't include everything I did, but I'm too tired this morning to really care.

This table runner turned out so well even my guy noticed it.

I was proud of myself for fixing this ugly tote.

Oliver's first birthday quilt turned out okay.

I did a lot of small art pieces like this one for my journals.

Mom's birthday quilt also turned out okay.

Making the sparkly fox tote was probably the most fun I had all year, quilting-wise.

I stopped sewing and quilting back in October for a couple of reasons: to do NaNoWriMo, and to let Kat use my sewing room for her painting. I haven't sewn a stitch since mid-November when I got my mojo back and the tsunami of writing started; I haven't wanted to. Right now all I want to do is write through the holidays and then see how I feel in January.

That's it for quilting during this dumpster fire of a year.

Dearly Departed

Before I heard of Penny Dreadful: City of Angels it had already joined the unhappy club of shows that are cancelled after only one season. This is not necessarily an indicator of quality, as I can think of three TV series that happened to which deserved better: Firefly, GCB, and Moonlight, so I went ahead and got the one and only season.

Horror shows are not really my thing. I'll cop to being a reluctant fan of the original Penny Dreadful series, mostly due to the acting by Eva Green, Josh Hartnett and Timothy Dalton, and the stylized retelling/reimagining of so many classic monster stories. It's also adventurous at times, and always beautifully styled, kind of like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen meets Frank Langella's Dracula. Only it's nonstop depressing, and it ends very badly, hence my reluctance.

City of Angels shares two connections with the original Penny Dreadful: the two words in the title, and a couple of supernatural figures. Other than that, it's completely different. It takes place in pre-WWII Los Angeles, and loosely follows the misadventures of the first Chicano detective on the LAPD and his Jewish partner as they face off with various stereotypical characters of the time period (secret Nazis, corrupt officials, radio cult evangelists and the Mexican-American criminal element.) Add to this the monsters: Mexican folk saint Nuestra Señora de la Santa Muerte, and her murderous demon sister (whose name I never caught if she had one) and that's the mix.

The actors in this show were phenomenal; Daniel Zovatto Blanco was stunning as the Chicano cop, and it was nice to see a lead role go to an actual Latino. I've never seen Nathan Lane do better with any role he's played; he was the quintessential hard-boiled Jewish detective. I have to say that for me Natalie Dormer gave the most impressive performance of all; she played four different characters simultaneously and nailed all of them. The support cast was likewise excellent, and some shamelessly stole every scene they were in (Brad Garrett as a Lansky-era Jewish mobster was so good I fell in love with him.)

I think the reason this show got cancelled was the storytelling, frankly. Unlike the first series the mythology is unfamiliar to 99% of Caucasians, and therefore hard to grasp (I'm ex-Catholic and I grew up with Cuban-Americans, that may be why it was a bit easier for me to follow along.) I never really got a sense of what the show writers were trying to do with the supernatural aspects, either; that part of the plot tended to be all over the place, at times focused for maybe a couple of scenes before it went trotting off in another direction. I think it is important to show how minorities are really treated in America (almost always badly and shamefully), so I appreciated the often brutal candor on that front, but the plight of the Chicanos felt forced on rather than an organic part of the story (so did the Nazis, if I'm going to be honest.)

The hardcore horror of the first series was also missing this time around, and that may be the biggest reason why the original series fans didn't show much love for this reincarnation. I didn't miss it personally; as with skin I think it's sexier to flash a little rather than put the full Monty out there. Also, both monsters weren't something anyone could really fight. One was basically the Angel of Death and the other was the Devil with a Pure Murderous Chaos chaser. Only one human character could actually see them (the Chicano cop's mom.) In the first series there always seemed to be a chance that the protagonists would win their battles with the unholy; in this one they could only show themselves resisting what seemed inevitable.

I'm not sorry I watched Penny Dreadful: City of Angels, and the actors really did a fine job, but other than that I can't say spend your money on this one and only season.

Happy 26th

It's my favorite day of the year! Ha. I hope you all are having a nice holiday. Ours was simple but quite peaceful; I made paella on Christmas Eve and my traditional big breakfast on Christmas Day. We kept the gift-giving very low-key, but I got some things I really needed for the kitchen and the house -- and three surprises, too.

The coffee mug came from my guy. :) I'm always nice to him when he interrupts me, by the way, it's just illustrative of the look on my face, I suppose. The two pieces of framed paper art were from Katherine, who hand made them.

This one is about the size of my thumb. The berries are the size of freckles. :)

Enjoy your weekend.

Wishing You

Happy Holidays from Valerean.

Image by Terri Cnudde from Pixabay

Baking and Writing

Since everyone loves these apply apple (yes, I'm this brain wrecked) turnovers, I made two trays of these as my holiday gifts to our next door neighbors. This one is waiting for the folks on the right of us to get home from work. I think food is the best gift. I also give a printed copy of the recipe and note anything that I do differently.

In between baking I've been doing laundry and writing. Still have about 1100 words to go for my quota today, but I'm on track to finish the next book by January 1st or so.

Two Ehs

I occasionally swap DVDs with a friend, and for our last exchange I received the movie follow-up to Deadwood and a mini-series called The Outsider. Since neither one dazzled me I thought I'd kill two ehs with one post.

I did like the original Deadwood cable series. It had far too much profanity and violence for me to love it, but most of the characters were excellent, the casting was inspired, the attention to detail with costumes and sets absolutely stellar -- plus it only lasted three seasons. Sometimes enough is enough.

Deadwood the movie takes place ten years after season three. It's mostly fanservice and nostalgia, and the plot is almost non-existant. I also think they aged some of the characters too much (Bullock looks like a senior citizen) and some not enough (Jane barely changed, and frankly she should be dead from all the nonstop drinking.) I liked the movie because it did provide some closure -- I liked how things wrapped up with Trixie and Seth -- but not enough to justify a movie. So eh.

The Outsider was based on a Stephen King novel, and really was just a dull, uninspired reimagining of It. I could not believe how ordinary and boring they tried to make everything look -- the cast, the settings, the pacing, the dialogue, the conflict -- it was blandfest. And slooooooow -- holy cow, I nearly nodded off every five seconds. I suppose all this was an artistic choice to make the series seem exactly as it would happen in real life -- only nobody lives like that. At the end, when the usual implausible King protagonist "We Must Kill It" shenanigans ensue, somehow they even made that seem tedious. There are multiple stories within the stories in the usual King droste effect style, and a few interesting characters (Holly and her guy, and the defense attorney) but otherwise, eh.

As a result I cannot recommend either, but if you're a masochist and want the DVDs, give me a yell in comments and I'll pass them along to you.

What I Miss

Having lunch with my daughter at a tea room in town that closed their doors some years back. All of their food was not only delicious, it was art on a plate. They had this citrus-basil viniagrette dressing for their beautiful salads that I loved.

It was such a chic place, but I didn't mind -- and Kat loved it.

Ah, the cream puff swans. Sigh.

This was way back in 2012. Katherine was worried about all the hoopla at the time about the world ending because the Mayan calendar had run out. So I took her to the tea room and told her, "If the world ends, then we'll have had one last wonderful lunch together."

World is still here. So are we. The power of tea room lunches. :)

Art Made Delicious

Guilty pleasure of mine: gingerbread House competitions. I think the edible art is adorable. Here's the video of the winners from the national contest from last year (this year they're doing virtual on Facebook and Instagram, which I don't use):

Surviving

Because I'm a glutton for punishment (and a diehard fan of the BBC) I got hold of a copy of the only two seasons of Survivors, a 2008 production featuring survivors of a flu-like pandemic that wipes out most of humanity. Bit of trivia: the production had to be halted at one point because of a real world outbreak of swine flu. The series was cancelled after two seasons, too, so this is all you get.

Despite some obvious flaws I liked it. The story is fairly realistic, and the characters are an interesting mix despite the odd ethnic representations. Two of the characters are Muslim, one is black, one might be of Russian descent; the rest are white. I would have liked to see more East Asians, as there are twice as many of them as there are blacks in the UK.

Another glaring flaw for me is how quickly the pandemic kills, and how the extremely dramatic reduction in the population (almost everyone in the world literally drops dead over night) impacts the survivors. The characters' frequent foraging and their struggles to find clean water and food seemed most out of whack; one person could probably live for a year on what non-perishable foods they could scrounge from a dozen households. Some of the choices the characters make seem really foolhardy. Survivors, especially in the aftermatch of so much death, are not that stupid. Then again, I saw an elderly couple at the market the other day without masks. Maybe they are.

There is plenty of drama. Despite many personal differences the seven survivors bond as a family group in the first season, and then commence trying to save each other from various threats. Four of the group begin forming romantic attachments to each other, which always guarantees the BBC is going to kill off at least one lover (yep, in season two; probably a Christmas episode.) There's a very odd relationship between a slightly psychopathic male convict and a shell-shocked lesbian doctor that I'm still not sure how I feel about, honestly. I think there probably weren't any actual gay people involved in the production. Anyway, I will admit that it was the most interesting plot line in the show.

Is it something you should watch while we're dealing with our own pandemic? Depends. If you like post-apocalyptic stories, this one is pretty good. It ends on a bit of a cliff-hanger, but the main conflicts of the series -- who is responsible for the pandemic, and does the mom character ever find her lost son -- are resolved. There aren't too many similarities to what we're dealing with during our pandemic, either. So that's my conditional rec.

101.45

Since I don't want to talk about the holidays, here's one of the few thing I do love about winter: watching ice skating competitions. My favorite skater of all time is Yuzuru Hanyu, whose record-breaking short program blew everyone away at the Sochi Olympics:

How can you be depressed when you watch someone do that? Ha.

One More

The school photographer sent us the photos they took at grad walk, and this one is my favorite.

Officially Speaking

We had to make do with a televised college graduation at home for Katherine back in May, but UCF finally decided to do a grad walk for her class (with masks on everyone, social distance markers, gloves, sanitizer stations and even presenting the degree holders from a safe distance.) The three of us got dressed up and made the trip. I was a little worried at first, but they scheduled us one family at a time, twenty minutes apart, so it was just the three of us in the auditorium. Not as nice as a full/regular graduation would have been, but it counts. We'll also have professional pictures of her in a few weeks, too.

I'm glad they did this. My kid deserved it.

Off to be with my Kid

She's a bit older now. :) See you tomorrow.

It's That Time Again

Ten Things I Do Not Want for Christmas

Anything Cute, Pink, Yellow or Sparkly: I can't be polite about this anymore. Also, I'm almost 60 and I should be exempted from cutesy stuff now. Please make a note of this.

Christmas Decor: How much don't I love the holidays? Hint: I didn't unpack or put out anything that I already own this year.

Clothing: I pretty much live in T-shirts and leggings now. Have plenty. Also? Everyone forgets that I'm 40 lbs. lighter now, and the XL stuff looks like I'm dressing in a garment bag.

Covid-19: Duh.

Exotic Teas: I love tea, and everyone knows it. Of course this means they go out and find the weirdest teas to gift me, like the one to improve my blood pressure (honestly, tasted like dirt) macha green (horribly bitter) and chocolate orange something (I can't even.) Let me buy my own teas, I beg you.

Fabric: I still have enough to last me until I'm deceased. My only new year's resolution is going to be not buying any new fabric in 2021.

Gifts in a Jar: There are some people who think it's wonderful to layer ingredients in a mason jar, tie a reipe card to it and call that a gift. Alas, I'm not one of them. Exception: if the stuff in the jar is already made/ready to serve, then that's fine. Oliver's mother makes me delicious apple butter, for example.

Kitchen and Cooking Stuff: Operate with these two facts here: I already own it, or I would never use it.

Pain Creams: None of them work for me. Not even the one made from emu fat that everyone raves about.

Sweets: I spent two years resolving my T2 diabetes. There is zero sugar in my diet to keep me healthy and off the meds. Help me stay that way.

What don't you want for Christmas? Let me know in comments.

The Daily Carrot Approach

One part of my process with writing anything is to reward myself after I cross the finish line. I usually choose the reward in advance so I'll have that prize waiting for me while I work, and it's always something I really want. Dangling a carrot like that is great motivation for me, and before I turned pro it was also like a little paycheck.

Just before the pandemic hit I went on a writing hiatus; my partner and I were shifting to a different business model which, due to a number of factors beyond our control, didn't work as well as what we'd been doing before it. Over the summer I was supposed to get back in the saddle, but my first project turned out to be very problematic, and I struggled with figuring out why. When I finally straightened that out and started writing I plodded. I could get the words on the page, but it took twice or three times as along. It also exhausted me.

It was really awful, which writing has never been for me. I'd spend hours staring at the screen and coming up with nothing. It wasn't writer's block -- I wanted to write, and I could write -- but it gave me zero joy. It felt like an exercise in futility. At times I also wondered if my fountain of words was finally running dry, or if I'd just gotten too old to do this gig.

The writing wasn't broken, I was. I took a long, hard look at myself and my environment, and I made some changes. I put my foot down with the family, all of whom have been leaning more and more on me this year to help them get through the pandemic while doing nothing to support me. I finally dealt with some unwarranted cruelty that had really hurt me badly, and that I hadn't wanted to face. To avoid toxic politics and the rest of the online hate fest I unplugged from the internet almost entirely. I stopped monitoring the pandemic and the election. I started reading for pleasure again. By the time I signed up to do NaNoWriMo I felt better, but I still wasn't there writing-wise.

I had some serious setbacks when we lost our dogs, but I kept plodding along. On November 17th (I still remember the day) something happened. I don't know what I can call it other than an inspiration dam burst, but it exploded in my head. All the words that had been piling up inside me flooded out onto the page. I wrote for 18 hours and produced almost 11K in one day. Not just new, but good words. The best writing I've done all year.

Since November 17th I've been writing without any problems at all. I got my mojo back. I wasn't going to take that for granted anymore, however, so I kept making changes, and refining the changes I'd already made, and I will keep doing that, too. I decided to set up a daily reward system for myself as well. I had an idea of my own I've really wanted to try out since the beginning of the year. I wrote up the outlines, and then I made a deal with myself: I could work on it every day, but first I had to complete my writing quota for work. The side project would be my daily carrot.

So far it's worked, and even better, it's kept my momentum from NaNoWriMo going. I'm back up to full speed, but more importantly, I want to write again, and I know the words are there. Writing is the great love of my life, and I think 2020 has proven that if I don't take care of myself and do what I love that I will lose it. Honestly, there is no better carrot than that.

Image by Thomas G. from Pixabay

Happy Birthday

I'm taking off today to celebrate my big guy's birthday. 71 never looked so good, baby. :)

Pretty

One of the quilting newsletters I subscribe to sent this yesterday:

That's a beautiful blue. I've heard that Pantone is going with an aqua as their color of the year for 2021, but so far I haven't seen anything official.

Speed of Sound

Brigadier General Charles (Chuck) Elwood Yeager, one of my personal heroes, died yesterday at the age of 97.

In addition to being the son of farmers, starting out in the Army Air Force as a private, and working his way up to Brigadier General, and becoming a fighter pilot and serving on active duty during three wars (and really, if I list everything he did we'll be here all week), General Yeager was the first pilot to break the sound barrier. What a life he had.

I read a biography of him when I was a girl, which led to me joining the Civil Air Patrol when I was 13. He's also the reason I chose the Air Force when I decided to enlist in the military. If a West Virginian farm boy could do all that, I thought, then nothing should hold me back.

Wherever you go from here, General, I know you'll be flying high. Safe journey.

Image credit: United States Air Force

This and That

Katherine is making progress on her commissioned painting -- some shots I've taken:

Edward put up the Christmas tree while I was busy with work:

Our holidays are going to be very quiet. Since the virus is surging wildly we've decided not to have anyone over to the house for Christmas, even Oliver and his parents. With all the hospitals rapidly running out of beds it's just too dangerous to risk infection. I'm doing anything I can to keep the three of us isolated from other people.

I've also run out of pre-written posts for the blog, and I'm trying to write another 50k this month, so I don't know how often I'll be updating. Hang in with me.

Romanced

Someone to Romance by Mary Balogh, which I actually finished before the Anne Stuart romp in November, made a welcome change from all the eh/emotional wrecking ball/no-don't-do-that clunkers that have plagued me in 2020. I do love this series, and the author is an auto-buy for me, so I'm prejudiced, of course. But sometimes it's just such a relief to have a well-written, emotionally satisfying GOOD book to write up.

Lady Jessica Archer. sister to the Duke of Netherby, is now twenty-five and still unmarried. Out of solidarity with her cousin and BFF Abigail, daughter of the bigamist who created the whole mess in this series, she's refused to even consider being romanced. She was happy when Abigail fell in love and married her one true guy (Someone to Honor) but she also feels a little left behind, too. So she decides it's time to find a husband.

Meanwhile, Gabriel Thorne, a new and myserious dude on the ton scene who has spent most of his life getting rich in America, decides he needs to find a wife among the privileged and titled in London. This is so he can lay claim to his true name, title and estates before the man who ruined his life grabs them. Gabriel is looking for a lady who can not only step up and take on the role of his countess, but help him protect a particularly vulnerable poor relative about to be booted to the curb by grabby life-wrecker.

I have to say first that these two are an interesting pair. Both of them have their own agendas, and neither of them are clueless. There's actually very little drama at first; it's all done by the ton book. Plus they're hard-headed, know what they want, and go after it in a fairly linear fashion. What's interesting is the slow burn of their romance despite all that. It's not as dramatic as some of the other novels in the series, but I liked it because of the deft way the author stayed true to the characters while having them fall in love.

The first part of the book suffers from lengthy series syndrome: there's a lot of backstory drop that literally has to be done so new-to-the-series readers can sort out the massive cast. Also, it's a bit slow, action-wise. A few times I actually saw where an editor probably said to Mary, "You need to explain that for the reader." Second half of the book picks up speed and things start to happen. As Gabriel's true identity is made public lots of excitement and drama ensue. Poor relative is saved, grabby guy gets his just desserts, and Jessica and Gabriel get their HEA.

Bottom line, I highly recommend Someone to Romance as a solid romance, an interesting character study and an antidote to anyone's reading woes.

Pandemic Ten

Ten Things I Hate About the Pandemic

Anti-Masker Hate: I understand there are people who for whatever reason don't wish to wear face coverings. Alas, I'm not that brainless. I do respect your right to be an idiot, and while I avoid you, I don't glare at you in public. So why do most of you glare at me for wearing a mask?

Burial Insurance SPAM: I get three or four of these every day now, and still not interested in being buried. After I'm brain dead and they harvest every part of my bod that can be reused, the rest is being donated to science. I really hope I get to be a practice cadaver for student surgeons, that would be so cool.

Conspiracy Theorists: From my neighbors I've heard stories about testing agencies sending back positive test results for people who left before they were tested, how wearing a mask for hours can suffocate you, and that the pandemic is merely a massive plot to depose our current POTUS to keep our former POTUS from being reelected. P.S., I'm not speaking to these neighbors any more.

Grocery Store Shortages: Because of these I've had to learn how to make my own foaming soap and hand sanitizer, and purchase diapers for my grandson because his parents can't find his size in their area. I STILL cannot find rubbing alcohol at any store. End the hoarding already.

Misinformation: At this point I simply don't believe any information related to the pandemic unless it comes from Dr. Anthony Fauci. He seems to be the only honest one in the whole mess.

Pandemic Marketing: Using the virus in any way, shape or form to sell your products, jack up your prices on your products, or otherwise take advantage of scared people is despicable. Stop it.

Pandemic Politics: What's worse than the usual idiot politics? Responding to a pandemic with even more idiot politics. These have only gotten stupider and more hateful in the last month.

Scammers: Anyone who uses people's pandemic-related fears to swindle them should have all their assets seized and donated to food banks and free clinics, and be sentenced to work in a busy metropolitan hospital emptying bed pans, cleaning up vomit and scrubbing toilets without pay until the pandemic ends.

Sick Workers: I know everyone needs to earn income, but when you go to work sick with the virus you may actually be killing some of your customers and co-workers. That includes me if you work at the two places I have to go every month to buy food and necessities.

Super Spreader Events: Church services, frat parties, weddings, Rose Garden events, whatever -- if you knowingly gather a bunch of people and don't practice social distancing, mask-wearing and sanitation, you could be infecting people. Which kills people. P.S., your god/college bros/bridesmaids/SCOTUS nominee are not more important than anyone else.

Unrelated but just as annoying: people online asking me what my pronouns are. My God, like a million times this year alone. First, I didn't even know what that meant until a much younger person explained this precious little politically correct trend to me. Second, I don't care what anyone calls me. As in I DO NOT CARE. I'll answer to everything, even it -- see how much easier that is? Yet if I say that, I'm somehow spitting on everyone else who is obsessed with THEIR pronouns. Herd mentality at its finest.

Finally, why is it anyone's business how I identify myself? Since when do I have to broadcast my personal business to the world by telling them how to talk to me? Maybe it's something I don't want to discuss with complete strangers. Maybe I'm still in the closet. Maybe I am a closet. Or maybe I'm an alien who identifies as everything plus five or six genders and sexualities that don't even exist on this planet, do these people ever think about that? Huh? Huh?

Sorry. Just so tired of having to be polite about this and not say "Get away from me, you pinhead."

Emergency Oliver

Just in case you needed a smile today, Oliver's mom sent me these pics of Oliver's second first birthday party at his great-grandmother's house:

Yep. It's good to be a year old. :)

Absolutely Positively

Not sewing anything but the unpolitical purple quilt top for the entire month of November allowed me to devote nearly all of my creative time to NaNoWriMo, but on my breaks I got back to reading for pleasure, too. One of my reads was The Absolutely Positively Worst Man in England Scotland and Wales by Anne Stuart, which was a fun historical romance romp.

Kit Adderly, self-admitted to be the worst man in England (and everywhere else) for his drinking, gambling and womanizing, helps his much less attractive but almost equally loathesome friend George Latherby kidnap a not especially attractive heiress and force her to marry George so he can use her inheritance to continue carousing with Kit. P.S., George has syphyllis, and likes to hurt women, and may have murdered a couple of his former wives. This doesn't bother Kit at all, and they grab the girl (and by accident her much prettier cousin) and head for Scotland for the nuptials.

The kidnapped heiress, Bryony Marton, comes with the typical tragic past and all the physical disadvantages: she's covered in freckles, red-haired, and a tad bit overweight. She's determined to protect her cousin, the classical English rose debutante Cecilia, and escape their unsavory fate with their reputations intact. Thrown into this mix is Peter Barnes, a low-born but handsome Bow Street runner Cecilia's greedy parents send after the kidnappers to rescue their daughter. Said parents already written off Bryony, from whom they can't financially benefit no matter who marries her. Let the games begin.

If you've read any of Anne Stuart's historicals then you're probably aware that she writes basically the same story every time: gorgeous, insanely wealthy, lethal, bored aristocratic hero becomes involved with quirky, smart, not-so-stunning heroine in peril; shenannigans ensue. There's usually a loathesome antagonist intent on murdering the girl, a cross-country race in a carriage, lots of very hot sexual tension and some fairly graphic love scenes. The ending is always the same, too. Checkmark all those for this book. For this go she actually makes the hero one of the antagonists at first, which is something the author has also done frequently in her books. I occasionally do the same thing, so I have much admiration for the uncrowned queen of the Love Redeems Even the Worst of the Bad Boys stories.

I wasn't expecting to be surprised by this book, and I wasn't. Despite the grim set-up, however, it's actually very light-hearted. I enjoyed the story as it played out; sometimes even when you know how it will go that kind of story can be a comfort read. I knew from page one that everyone would get their just desserts, even Kit, and I didn't care. It was fun. Also, I loved the overlong marketing disaster that is the title of the book. That's the kind of thing digital self-publishing has opened the door to: authors titling their stories whatever the hell they want versus what NY decides is best.

It won't change your life, but if you're in the mood for an entertaining historical romance, The Absolutely Positively Worst Man in England Scotland and Wales by Anne Stuart is a good pick.

Unpolitical Purple

On Election Night back in November I got so disgusted with all the hatred and hysteria that I decided to piece a bunch of purple jelly roll strips into a quilt top ala Valerie Nesbitt's 40 minute method:

This also gave me a chance to practice my long straight line sewing, which due to the hand issues I've been having problems with lately:

I hope by now we finally have a President, but however it goes, here's my political statement: we are not red or blue, we are people. We should be purple. Also, when the world sucks, go sew. :)

I Think I Might . . .

. . . have to write a sequel to Refuge in December.

My Insanity Continues

I got another bundle of linen scraps from my Etsy seller, and then found two yards of a gorgeous 60" vintage navy linen on eBay for basically a song; that will serve as the backing. So I have all the fabric I need to make another recycled linen quilt.

Yes, I am insane. But very happy, too.

Seriously, I'm aware that I'm overloading myself with quilting projects, some of which I may never finish if my hands get worse fast. I don't care. You should do what makes you happy, especially in times when almost everything else does the opposite. I don't need another linen quilt. I need the happiness that comes with the possibility of making another one.

And hey, worst case scenario, I'll piece it on my Singer and send it out to be long-arm quilted, which is where I figure I'm heading with my quilting anyway once I can no longer hand sew.

One last note on NaNoWriMo 2020: My final wordcount was 75,105. I did not get on the site to update my stats before midnight, so the total there stands at 74,868. That is the most I've ever written during NaNo, so a new personal record for me. Whee!