Happy Un-Thanksgiving to You!

It’s odd how a tune can get stuck in your head sometimes. Odder still, the choice of tune that gets stuck in your head and the exact timing of this phenomenon. Maybe the tune is an indication of what’s really going on in your subconscious? But maybe—just maybe—it’s more ominous than that. Maybe it’s a sign of what’s going on just beneath the surface of reality itself...

For the past couple of days, I’ve been humming the tune to A Very Merry Un-Birthday to You from Disney’s animated classic Alice in Wonderland. It was one of my oldest girl’s favorite movies as a kid, and she about wore out the tape in the VHS player. The more I thought about it, the more odd it seemed to me that I wasn’t humming Christmas carols (since the radio stations are already blasting them) or even thinking of a more traditional tune like the Thanksgiving hymn Come Ye Thankful People, Come. Why was I thinking about the Mad Hatter’s surrealist tea party and the idea of celebrating an un-anything?

It all began when I opened up the shopper paper lying on our front lawn the other day. In the colorful mass of recyclable materials I spied the big-box store flyers proudly proclaiming, “We’re open on Thanksgiving Day at 6 AM!” My heart sank. Now I know why that infuriatingly little tune from Alice in Wonderland had become stuck in my head. I've fallen down the rabbit hole like Alice, and the insanity surrounds me on all sides.

There are no sacred days, no official holidays, or special family gathering days anymore in America. There is only naked commercialism, overpaid CEOs, retail-slave-laborers, and poverty wages. Indeed, there is little to be thankful for in a culture openly based on greed and consumerism.

So, let’s stop fooling ourselves. The Thanksgiving holiday has been lovely for the past 300 odd years. (Only the last 150 years of it has been official as Abraham Lincoln declared it a federal holiday during the Civil War to promote unity). But, obviously, we’ve grown up as a society and grown past it. Why do we need to be thankful for anything, let alone express thanks to anyone or any deity? We got all the idols you could want, all the stuff we could ever need, and those with actual paying jobs (there are a few, but I don’t happen to have one) can go on wild buying sprees at 6 AM on Thanksgiving Day itself without regrets or recrimination. Why wait for Black Friday when we have a slightly dirty beige “Un-Thanksgiving Day” to go on a shopping expedition?

The Mad Hatter proclaimed every day that wasn’t your birthday was your “un-birthday” and worth celebrating. Since we’ve become a society of ingrates, every day—including the fourth Thursday of November—can be “Un-Thanksgiving Day”, right? Celebrate it by shopping during the wee small hours of the night! Celebrate by not paying your employees’ a living wage! Celebrate it by allowing 45,000 of your fellow Americans to die each year (that’s one every 12 minutes) from lack of health care! Celebrate it by glorifying the snarkiness, the insipid (reality TV works well here), the materialistic, and the capitalistic!

There is no one to give thanks to or for or about since it’s Un-Thanksgiving Day! Remember, it’s all about celebrating ME!

I want to “thank” you now, dear reader, for reading thus far and putting up with my attitude, but frankly I’m tired. I’m tired of the selfishness and mean-spiritedness of our culture. I’m ashamed to be American these past few years. We’ve become what we always prided ourselves for not being—self-absorbed and uncaring. We don’t care a rat’s behind for our own neighbors’ welfare, and our neighbor abroad is useful only if he has resources we want to take advantage of, be they animal, vegetable, mineral, or slave-labor. 

Abraham Lincoln is lucky to have lived in the 19^th century and not the 21^st. I’m sure if he were alive today, he would simply walk away and forget all about preserving the union. Why bother to save the self-centered lot which currently dwells here...

...When you can save all your money to hit the Thanksgiving Day 6 AM sales! Happy Un-Thanksgiving to you and yours—and may all your shallow self-indulgences empty your bank account and raise your cholesterol level.

© Shecodes | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

The Fixer-Uppers now available!

  

At long last, my contemporary romance novel, The Fixer-Uppers has come again! The real irony is that I wrote the first draft of this story many years ago (and have since updated it and it's been through several edits, so it's better than ever), but today I find myself in a similar situation as the main characters! 

The crux of the story is two hard-working Americans (definitely the 99%) trying to get by and finding love in the process. The hero even suffers an eviction from his apartment. Talk about life imitating art! I now can fully sympathize with Mike having his worldly goods tossed out on the street. Luckily for him, the heroine Cassie takes him in and gives him a room in her home, and a happy ending is assured.

If you have a Kindle or other e-reader and enjoy good ol' fashion romantic comedies, then you'll enjoy this book. You can even feel safe giving it to a loved one as a birthday/Christmas gift, too. Just think--you'll be helping a struggling author out by buying her book, so you can feel it was worth the couple of bucks you spent. 

The Fixer-Uppers

by Cynthianna
http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-fixer-uppers

Can a single mom find happiness on a blind date--or at least dinner with a male who can cut up his own food? Cassie and Mike believe they're "in like" not "in love." But when down-on-his-luck Mike is evicted, Cassie takes him into her home. Mike starts fixing everything from window screens to little boys' broken hearts. Will Cassie let him fix hers?

An excerpt: Mike teaches Cassie how to act out her frustration at her ex by throwing darts at a picture on a dartboard.

He smells of paint and newsprint—and male. Cassie closed her eyes. She could feel the overpowering warmth and strength of Mike’s muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt as she stood entranced next to him. What if she turned around this instant and pulled him into her arms instead?

Her sluggish mind was wandering she realized. She blinked and shook her head to clear the cobwebs.

“Oh—kay. I’m ready.”

“Then let ‘er rip.”

The dart hit the imprint of Mike’s pinkie.

He grinned. “Not bad. Now give Jack a stab right in the heart. Aim for the middle.”

Cassie screwed both eyes shut and sent the dart flying with a passionate fling. A loud thump broke the silence.

“Oh, no—can I open my eyes now? Did I break something?” she asked timidly.

Mike let out a long whistle. “Look what you did.”

She cautiously opened one eye. The dart had hit dead center.

“Yippee!” Cassie jumped up and down. She gave Mike an impulsive bear hug, almost knocking the breath out of him. “Let’s do it again!”

Mike’s gaze fixed on her mouth. “Yes, let’s do—”

 

The Fixer-Uppers is now available in all e-book formats at Devine Destinies Books:

 
http://www.devinedestinies.com/the-fixer-uppers

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 Buy and read their works!

The Secret Life of a Dead-Beat Dad

To the outside world he appears to be an ordinary guy. Work. Job. Family. Car. In fact, he's probably doing better financially than most Americans these days.

But appearances can be deceiving.

You'd think any father would be pleased and proud to support his children, enabling them to develop into successful and happy human beings, and through his positive support and actions, providing them with a good role-model.

This goes beyond the call of duty for some men.

Dead-Beat Dad loves to brag about his kids, their successes at college, their studies at prestigious universities abroad... All without contributing one thin dime to their welfare.

What would a real father do if his college-aged children found themselves in desperate need? Wouldn't a loving father move heaven and earth to help his child? Wouldn't he take whatever actions were necessary to ensure his child's safety and well-being?

Dead-Beat Dad would not.

Here is one case study given for your perusal. Feel free to post your comments at the end of the blog.

Circumstance #1: Dead-Beat Dad's child is studying at a foreign university and faces eviction from lodgings.

Dead-Beat Dad's email response to child's desperate cry for help: "Nothing I can do. I'm sure it'll work out."

How would a real father respond?

Circumstance #2: A state university expects a father who claims an honor student on his federal/state taxes to contribute towards said child's college tuition.

Dead-Beat Dad's response: Dead-Beat Dad refuses to pay what the university considers to be a fair "parental contribution" based on his tax return, since the child is listed as his dependent. Honor student child makes a futile attempt to take out more student loans to cover the deficit left by him, but is told by the university that child cannot take out more student loans since child's "parent who claims child on taxes makes enough money to pay the expected parental contribution as authorized by the state." Child is forced to take out more loans from other sources that don't have nearly the same generous terms. Dead-Beat Dad adds insult to injury by refusing to help honor student pay for room and board as well.

What would a real father do in this situation?

Circumstance #3: Dead-Beat Dad forces honor student to sign a contract which sets a minuscule weekly "food budget" that can be docked by committing various "offenses" (i.e. $10 is docked for touching Dead-Beat Dad's or his friend's food in refrigerator). Child is forced to eat on as little as $5 a week because of real or imagined "offenses". Child would have starved during summer break if not for the charity of friends.

Would a father who says he loves his children subject them to such horror and degradation?

Dead-Beat Dad's Mantra?

Could you allow your child to be thrown out on the street? Dead-Beat Dad can.

Could you allow your child to stop a promising college career on your account when you have the financial means to help? Dead-Beat Dad sure can!

Could you deny your children money for food while you flaunt your own private stash in front of their noses? Dead-Beat does--and he doesn't see his actions as abusive.

Could you sleep at night knowing you were hurting your children? Shouldn't children of any age expect only love and support from their fathers? What is your take on Dead-Beat Dad?

The Happy Hour

The name brings to mind smokey bars and blue collar types getting off shift to down a pitcher of beer or materialistic yuppies mingling over tapas and martinis after a hard day’s work pushing papers. But the Happy Hour I’m referring to is far from these stereotypes. It’s in a class all its own.




This Happy Hour happens on the side patio of a friend’s home. It’s not at a dark, beer sign-bedecked, neon-lit corner pub or a posh, upscale restaurant. It’s relaxed and casual to the extreme. Better yet, bring the kids and your favorite snacks… Both allowed—and encouraged.




In fact, many of us don’t even drink, so we’re sipping water or soda pop while others toss back a beer or mixed beverage of their choice. But we’re not coming to Happy Hour for the drinks—we’re coming for the conversation and fellowship.




Happy Hour is a group of science fiction fans and other like-minded people who get together on a Thursday evening and sit around and chat endlessly on a variety of topics. Anything and everything goes.




There’s all those great SF summer movies we’ve seen (or not) worth discussing. There are fun activities coming up in the near future to get psyched up for like Archon 32, a float trip, or a possible ghost tour of old St. Charles. There are jokes to be told and great stories of past humorous situations to share. (I even learned you could use a tampon as a soft dart. You never know when that bit of info could come in handy!)




Happy Hour is all about being… well, happy. Enjoy a snack, enjoy a chat, have a beer or soda and relax. True happiness isn’t about trying to impress the work crowd or tie one on. True happiness is spending a few cheerful hours with your friends.

Tell me about a regular hang-out or activity you do with your friends just to unwind and to share a good time. Everyone who leaves a comment on any of my blogs this month gets their name tossed into a hat for free ebook drawing. So tell me what you think! And be sure to check out my latest SF/fantasy romantic-comedy offering LOVING WHO from Mojocastle Press. Links at my home page: http://www.cynthianna.com

Moving out, moving up, moving on

I’m not sure what to write about for this blog so I guess I will simply tell you why I haven’t been doing much creative writing lately.

I’ve moved—myself and all my junk (and there’s plenty of it) about two miles southeast of my previous location. No, this really wasn’t my idea, but my lawyer seem to think it’s best I move out of the house since my soon-to-be-ex-spouse seems so attached to it that he’s pretty much trashed the place. By moving out and moving on with my life, it gives him one less thing to be nasty about come the final decree. But moving like this—with only a few weeks notice and all by myself essentially up until the day of the move—definitely was nothing I had foreseen several months ago.

The day that I moved the “big items”, i.e., the furniture, was sort of festive. I had several good friends come with their pick up trucks to come and pick up the big pieces and take them over to my new apartment… which happens to be on the second floor.

Uh-oh.

Yeah, it was a sweltering, hot sweaty day in late July. (Luckily, I moved before the real heat wave began—the high probably was only near 90 that day instead of the 106 degrees Fahrenheit they forecasted for today.) So, the added stress and heat of “moving up” certainly added to the stress I was already feeling. But, bless their hearts, they got everything up the twisty-turny staircase and into my new flat. I had been holding my breath that the dining table with the big pedestal base would make it up those steps and through the narrow front door, and, believe it or not, it did. It looks great in the kitchen area, too.

The only real furniture mishap was my computer desk—the cabinet that housed my printer and junk sort of went “whoosh” and toppled over into pieces like a house of cards falling over upon its removal from my previous abode. It hadn’t been put together very well obviously the first time, so it couldn’t take the front step without collapsing. Sigh! It sits in pieces around the living area of my new place. I’m looking for a handyman—or handywoman—to help me glue it back together. I think the screws are all stripped and some of the lovely particleboard panels have cracked, so it needs major surgery.

Other wonderful post-moving hassles have included the exploding washer drain hose from hell and learning to cope with living two and half stories up with a very narrow balcony to put my outdoor plants on… I finally got wise and decided to put my “rubber tree” (I have no idea what to call this plant my dad gave me about twelve years ago) down in the side patio area of the apartment building. The only problem it now has is that the wind tends to topple it over and I don’t see it’s fallen unless I peek out from behind my blinds (drawn to prevent the killer sun from further baking my apartment). Such is life in apartment city, as I call my new neighborhood.

I’ve had to deal with a lot of other issues, too, like looking for full-time work with health benefits (no luck there yet) and dealing with my daughters who don’t seem to want to talk to me anymore. So, this isn’t an excuse for not writing—it’s more of an explanation why my heart isn’t into as much at this point in history.

The high point of all this moving hell is my friends and family members who have been very supportive of me. I love them all.

Well, let’s end this blog on a high note and ask a discussion question you can comment upon and share your life wisdom with me. The discussion question: Tell me about a time when you were faced with a “move” in life that may have happened unexpectedly… How did you cope with your rapidly changing existence? What support groups or persons helped you out the most and why?

Thanking you in advance...