And just for the heck of it… Makes me laugh every single time!

Liquid Plumber Double Impact.

So I’m sitting at my computer, which is in the kitchen near the open back door, and when I say open back door I mean actually open so Jake can let himself in and out – the wall is a bank of windows anyway with a glass sliding door so there’s tons of light.

Anyway, he’s laying? lying? (I ain’t lookin’ it up) right next to the open door and Whoosh!  Blam!  Ka-Pow!  A hawk and a crow crash to the wooden deck six inches from him.

Yikes-a-loo!  Jake and I leap to our feet but before either of us can get out the door both birds fly off in opposite directions.  I try to see where they’ve gone but both have vanished.

Apparently they were uninjured, or at least well enough to fly away.

Cooo-el!  How often does that happen?  It was a red tail hawk.  I’ve had my eye on him for a few days.  He’s been hanging out in our redwoods and in the neighbor’s palm tree.

The Weekly Jake List:

A tragedy– I watched the mama and papa robins build their nest with such care.  Found it on the ground beneath the redwoods this morning.  Found the smashed egg on the sidewalk.   So sad.  Now the robins have flown off.  I bet the culprit was either a crow or a jay.

Robin’s Nest.

Poor little egg…

Don’t worry, bee happy!

Thousands of honey bees, bumble bees, native stingless bees– see here.

Jake and I keep finding bees performing honey dances on the basketball court. They are sucking the nectar from these plants like there’s no tomorrow.  I only know the jasmine and the lavender.  Haven’t a clue what the white and pink giant flowering shrubs/trees are:

Spanish Lavender. French Lavender will be blooming soon!

White Jasmine.

Pink flower giant shrub.

White flower giant shrub-tree

Another white flower giant shrub tree

The beach!

We had a great time.  Watched the surfers.  Picked up a couple big crabs and carried them back to the tide pools.  Checked out some beached jellyfish.  Jake ran, dug, chased, said ‘hey‘ to other dogs, and I got a little haul of carnelian, jade and sea glass.

my semi-precious stones.

The Mountain Lion.

So Tuesday was Jake’s first day back on the hiking trail after torquing his toenail while climbing a cliff.  The vet removed his entire toenail.  Ouch!  He’s doing fine – still kinda bugs him but he’s a trooper.

Anywhoo, we headed down the back side of the park and I figured I’d take a couple photos of the spot where we saw the mountain lion.  And I did take a few photos.  Which I lost for reasons which shall be made clear.

So… I’m taking photos, right?  And we hike just past the point where I’d previously seen the cougar and the buck deer.  Jake’s in front of me at the end of his leash, nose to the ground.  I catch movement out of the corner of my eye — up the hillside to my left.  Maybe 100 yards away?  And this mountain lion stands up in the tall grass, front legs spread as if standing over a kill, and it stares at me.

I stop dead.  Because the last thing you want to do is run.  I call Jake back to me because I want the mountain lion to see I am not alone.  I’m with a big and bad German shepherd.  Jake comes and he sees I am staring at something so he stares.  Now we’re all three staring.  It’s the same cat we saw before.  It’s a young cat.  A little darker tan in color than I’ve seen before.  Definitely not sandy-colored like the humongous mountain lion I used to run into at this park.

This color. Not my photo.

Okay… okay.  I’m a little concerned now because I can’t go back up the hill – it’s too steep.  The mountain lion already commands the high ground so he has the advantage.  If I go on down the trail he still commands the high ground and he can follow behind me and stay above me, which is a scary thought, but the area is a little more open, a little less forested.  And I’ll be getting closer to the more frequently traveled sections of the park.

I decide to try and scare him off, so I jump up and down, wave my arms, and yell, “Git!  Git!  Hey you, git!”  Yeah, right.  He doesn’t move.  We’re still locked in this three-way stare-down.

I’m wondering if I should call someone, like the police or Penny Watson so she can freak out and call the White House or maybe Tom Stronach in England.  I pull my phone out of my pocket only to realize I no longer have the police on speed dial.  I can’t look up Penny’s number because that will mean taking my eyes off the cougar, and damn it, my hands are shaking so bad I drop my phone.

While messing with the phone I lost all the photos.

At last the cougar lay back down in the grass.  I decided he’d decided I was neither threat nor prey so Jake and I moved off down the hill – not running, not in a state of panic.  Using the eyes in the back of my head?  You better believe it.

When I got home, my daughter said I had to call the Parks Department and let them know.  I was very reluctant.  I don’t want this mountain lion shot.  But she pointed out I would feel terrible if a little kid got hurt or killed.  And I would.  Besides, this lion doesn’t seem too awfully afraid of people and that’s a problem.

I did call the Parks Department, told them I’ve seen the cougar twice in two weeks, and I suggested they at least post a sign.  They didn’t seem very interested.  No sign’s been posted.

That’s bureaucracy for ya.

Since my latest release is called The Wedding, and it involves a woman who would rather get stabbed in the eye than attend one, I’ve decided to share my thoughts on weddings. I warn you that my views might not be popular, especially in regards to the cash bar, but whatever. I can take the hate. So let’s get to it!

~

Ah weddings. They can be so fun, can’t they? Or they can be about as pleasant as a root canal. It can go either way, which is why I groan every time I get one of those over-the-top invites with the Curly Q writing.

Yep, a wedding is a crap shoot. I might spend the night sipping bubbly and dancing to a killer band or DJ. There’s also a very good chance I’ll resort to forking out money for overpriced well drinks at a cash bar, in hopes that I’ll get drunk enough to not give a shit that the inevitable chicken dance is looming in my near future. And speaking of the cash bar… Can I just say that wedding guests do not care a damn about the decor, flowers or parting gifts at the end of the evening? If a couple has to choose where to spend the money, the answer should always be the bar. I don’t care if I have to bring my own tofu dogs to toss on the grill, I want the full bar. Weddings are so bloody expensive to attend already – the dress, the heels, the hair, the minimum $200 gift, the hotel, if it’s not taxi distance from my home and, in extreme circumstances, the airfare. That’s right. Airfare. Couples are now doing that destination wedding bullshit that saves them from spending an extra twenty grand or so but costs guests up to two thousand dollars each. How is that fair?

I’ve attended all types of weddings. I went to one with a budget of over $100,000 at the Four Seasons in downtown Toronto (I won the centrepiece at our table, which was a flower arrangement/vase that probably cost the same amount as the $300 cheque I signed over as their wedding gift). I’ve been to several that took place in back yards. The most memorable back yard wedding I attended was one in the middle of nowhere, USA. The sun glared as I made my way to the festivities, just like it had been all week. Shortly after guests arrived, however, the intense heat disappeared and a frigid wind took over. The centrepieces consisted of plastic cups half-filled with water and a colourful beta fish, which the guests were supposed to bring home with them at the end of the evening. Then the beta fish died because of the cool temperatures so we basically had to stare at dead fish while trying to keep our bodies from shivering to an extent that we couldn’t stuff homemade potato salad in our mouths. When it began to spit rain, I envied those fish.

The most fun wedding I’ve ever been to was one with a very small budget that took place just outside of Toronto. The bride and groom only invited fifty people, put a few gerberas on the tables, served lasagne for dinner and homemade wedding cake for dessert. They put all of their money into the bar and hiring the best D.J. they could afford. The night was a smashing success. We danced and partied our brains out. At midnight, the groom’s father handed out cigars, which we had to smoke outside. Then every single guest went back inside and danced until the hotel security shut us down at three in the morning.

So what about you people? What is your most memorable wedding experience? I want to know! In fact, I want to know so bad, I will give a copy of The Wedding to the best answer I read in the comments section. And speaking of The Wedding, here is a bit more info about the book.

The Wedding

Karen is not the type to attend a wedding with a guy she’s only slept with once but, in a rare display of empathy, she agrees to accompany her new landlord Allen to this sure-to-be-boring function. Fortunately, Karen knows how to have a good time, and she’s pretty sure she and Allen can make their own fun…even if they have to do it in the outdoors just steps away from a couple hundred stuffy wedding guests.

The Wedding, mini-excerpt:

The car rumbled to life and he pulled from the roundabout into traffic. He seemed at ease, his hand alternately resting on my thigh and the shifter. As we neared our destination, however, his comfort steadily dissipated.  His fingers tapped against the wheel and he smoothed his other hand along the thigh of his dress pants. Jesus, I hope he’s not going to act like this all night. There better be an open bar.

“So, uh, like I said,” he said finally. “My ex-best friend and his wife won’t be there.”

“Uh huh,” I said, distracted. Who doesn’t have an open bar at a wedding these days? No one, that’s who. God, I hope the champagne is good. I need an overflowing glass of expensive champagne, like, ten minutes ago. Since when does Karen Valentine go to weddings as someone’s date?

Buy Links:

Amazon

BookStrand

Kobo

Barnes & Noble

All Romance

Publisher’s Site

D.C. McMillen enjoys writing about dirty sex in questionable places but has been known to write about other subjects, on special occasions. She is featured in MuseItHot’s Short & Spicy line up with The Rental, The Wedding and A Decent December. D.C.’s short stories and flash fiction can be found in several anthologies and other print and online publications. She is obsessed with Twitter and invites you to look her up at @mcmillendc, on her blog, or Facebook.

Orthorexia is an extreme preoccupation or obsession with avoiding foods deemed to be unhealthy.  Orthorexia can become so extreme that eventually almost all foods are deemed unhealthy.  It can lead to malnutrition and death.  In other words, you start out trying to eat healthy.  Pretty soon you’re eliminating all sorts of food groups from your diet because you imagine they cause some weird symptom or physical reaction.  Eventually you’re eating iceberg lettuce and drinking water.

Because you know, it’s not as if we women have enough problems already.

Take my middle sister, the uber pure foods nut.  At last I have my diagnosis – Orthorexia.  Instead of including healthy fresh foods in her diet, she eliminates.  She thinks she’s reactive to entire food groups therefore she’s on a quest to find the perfect healthy way of eating, a way which will heal everything that ails her and perhaps bestow upon her immortality.  Instead she’s always sick.

Almost every dish she prepares and eats is some nasty tasting, weird-ass substitute for a real food.

For instance, she claims a single kernel of sweet corn will cause the production of copious amounts of green snot within seconds of its ingestion.

Unfortunately because I am unworthy I’m not blessed enough to witness the magical mystical miracle known as the fountain of green snot.

I’m not minimizing true food allergies.  They can be deadly.  I have several good friends who suffer severe food allergies.  My younger daughter is deathly allergic to crab and mussels.  My father is deathly allergic to kiwis, for my mother it’s shrimp.  I’m allergic to yellow jacket stings, of course.  We may be allergic to different things, but what we have in common is the need to carry an epipen with us at all times.  

Food allergies are not the same as Orthorexia.

From the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics - Orthorexia:  An Obsession with Pure Eating.

“Orthorexia starts out with a true intention of wanting to be healthier, but it’s taken to an extreme,” says Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics Spokesperson Marjorie Nolan, MS, RDN, CDN, ACSM-HFS, who specializes in working with eating disorder clients. “If someone is orthorexic, they typically avoid anything processed, like white flour or sugar. A food is virtually untouchable unless it’s certified organic or a whole food. Even something like whole-grain bread – which is a very healthy, high-fiber food – is off limits because it’s been processed in some way.”

Orthorexics typically don’t fear being fat in the way that an anorexic would, but the obsessive and progressive nature of the disorder is similar. Orthorexics may eliminate entire groups of food – such as dairy or grains – from their diets, later eliminating another group of food, and another, all in the quest for a “perfect” clean, healthy diet. In severe cases, orthorexia eventually leads to malnourishment when critical nutrients are eliminated from the diet.

From the Mayo Clinic:  Orthorexia– When healthy eating goes awry.

Everyone can benefit by paying more attention to choosing healthy foods, right?

For the most part, yes. However, a small number of people seem to become obsessed with the “perfect diet.” These individuals fixate on eating foods that make them feel pure and healthy…

A great article from Fox News:  Orthorexia:  Taking healthy eating to a whole new level.

Can healthy eating actually harm your health? Caring about what you eat is a great thing, but when it turns into an obsession and a hunt for perfection, you can do permanent damage to your body on several levels.  A very restrictive diet means you may miss out on nutrients your body needs. 

Here are some of the foods orthorexics tend to restrict, or completely remove from their diets:

Dairy, meats, and eggs: Cutting out these foods could mean you’re not getting B12, needed for proper brain function and red blood cell production. Strict vegans should consult their doctors on how to get this vital vitamin into their diets.

Gluten and grains: Gluten-free diets are all the rage these a days, but experts estimate only 6 percent of the population may be be affected by gluten sensitivity or celiac disease. Whole grains contain high levels of minerals that we need (like magnesium, which is needed for healthy bones and nerves; and manganese, which is needed for healthy heart function). Eating whole grains may provide the balance your body needs to stay fit.  If you suspect you have issues with gluten, it’s better to get a medical test instead of missing out on this nourishing ‘food group.’

Fat: Good quality fats, found in foods like olive oil, avocado, nuts and seeds, grass-fed beef, grass-fed dairy and pasture-raised eggs are a must for the body.  They keep skin healthy, cushion and protect vital organs, insulate the body against heat loss, protect nerve tissue, and help regulate women’s menstrual cycles. Getting enough fat in your diet also means you feel full longer and have a better absorption rate of fat-soluble vitamins like A and D.

I apologize for the quality of the following video – if you can’t see it well, just listen.  It’s a good description of the lifestyle of an orthorexic.

Next week – The Flexitarian Pantry.  Three.  Fats Are Our Friends.

They invoked the Writer’s Mantra… Less Is More.

Less can also mean cutting corners.  But for now let’s consider the concept, Less Is More.

Two scenes– one which gives us great insight into two significant characters and their developing relationship, one which… well, let’s take a look at the insightful scene first.

The King Slayer, Jaime Lannister, and Brienne of Tarth share the bath at Harrenhal.  Brienne protests.  She’s shocked at Jaime’s naked intention to share her bath.  But her indignation is all bluff.  It’s phony baloney and Jaime’s possesses the innate ability of the consummate cynic to cut through the crap.  He dismisses her phony indignation for what it is, a play at convention, all the while valiantly attempting to hide his shock, pain, and suffering at the loss of the only thing he values aside from his twin sister Cersei~ his sword hand.

Brienne’s true feelings are exposed by her immediate disregard of any play at modesty when The King Slayer collapses into the water.  We see her terror at his distress, her obvious concern and rapidly growing respect for the man who (spoiler alert) becomes one of the truly heroic players in The Game of Thrones.

The scene is told in few words and in even fewer, spare, brilliantly choreographed actions/reactions by two vulnerable and honorable people made even more vulnerable by their nakedness.  If the viewer hasn’t already guessed, the bath scene makes it crystal clear– Jaime Lannister and Brienne of Tarth have become a mutual admiration society of two.

Brienne of Tarth is quite possibly the most loyal, trustworthy and yet naive character in the series, even more naive than the dense block of cement, otherwise known as Sansa Stark.

When we meet Brienne she is a bit of a dull lumbering beast of burden, a dumb ox– her loyalty to Renly Baratheon and her image of him as the ideal of chivalry illustrates exactly how her sense of honor has blinded her, not only to reality, but also to the larger stakes.  It is only after prolonged contact with Jaime, a man who understands The Game far too well, that the rose-colored glasses slip down her nose and she begins to see the big picture.  More important, she begins to question where her true allegiance should lie.

Their scene in the bath is terse, laconic, powerful.  There is no fluff, no wasted space.  Every word, every action, has meaning.  It illustrates and illuminates the evolution of a relationship between a cynical man who scoffs at convention and a woman for whom convention is all.  And yet as a woman warrior, Brienne of Tarth already bucks convention.

To be honest, Brienne bored me to tears in the books.  Fortunately she’s quite engaging in the  HBO series.  Jaime, on the other hand, remains true to his original character– he’s a hero.  He may play the role of an anti-hero, but in his own way he’s an honorable man… Not as stubborn and honest and, frankly, suicidal as Neddard Stark– a man who had no clue how to play The Game, but almost as honorable as his brother, Tyrion Lannister, the dwarf.

Which leads me directly to scene two which I’m going to describe as, Less=Less.  It’s a technique writers use when they either haven’t the time or the wherewithal to write a complicated and emotionally-laden scene – open the scene, skip over the meat of it entirely, and merely show the reader or viewer the results.  It’s the equivalent of writing–  “The bullet slammed into his chest and he fell to the ground. Three months later…”

WTF???

Tyrion Lannister has been ordered by The King’s Hand, his father Tywin Lannister, to marry Sansa Stark and thus keep hold of the North and possibly checkmate Robb Stark, the King of the North.  The move is also intended to undermine the Lannister’s scheming allies, the Tyrells, another family that understands what’s at stake and can play The Game with the big boys.

Tyrion Lannister, the benighted dwarf, is a wonderful complicated character.  He’s a pragmatist, a realist, he’s cunning, he understands the natures of both The Game and his cold calculating family, yet he’s remained an honorable courageous man and a true romantic at heart.  He believes in love.  He doesn’t want to marry Sansa Stark for many reasons, most of which involve his belief she’s suffered enough.  To punish her by forcing her to marry a deformed dwarf more than twice her age is just too cruel.  Besides…

He’s hidden his paramour, Shae, in plain sight, placing her in service as Sansa Stark’s trusted handmaiden.  Thus killing two birds with one stone – keeping his true love alive and protecting Sansa to the best of his somewhat limited ability.

The scene opens with Sansa and Shae.  Sansa is glowing with happiness because she believes she is about to marry pretty boy, (and sword-swallower… thank you Lady Olenna Tyrell!), Sir Loris Tyrell.  Thus she’ll be freed from the horror of King’s Landing and married to a man she admires for his great beauty and chivalry.  Sansa is dumb as a post, or nearly so.  Although she’s managed to survive, she never seems to grasp the existence of The Game or realize her value as a piece in The Game.

The reluctant Tyrion is assigned an unpleasant task.  He must destroy Sansa’s dreams, Shae’s dreams, his own dreams.  He knocks on the door to Sansa’s chamber.  He faces both Sansa and Shae.  He says, “I have something to tell you…”

Cut away.

WTF???

The next thing we see is a stone-faced Shae standing behind a dewy-eyed sniffling Sansa, who watches a ship sail away.  There goes Sansa’s last shred of hope.

What happened behind closed doors?  This viewer wants to know.  I wanted to see the look of dawning horror in Sansa’s eyes, the pain of betrayal in Shae’s.  I wanted to hear Tyrion’s halting words of explanation and apology.

Granted, the scene would have been tough to write.  But I believe the actors could have carried it off.  This was an opportunity to include another stellar character-driven scene, but the writers opted for Less=Less.  

Just something to think about…