New year. Same Chaos Cow.

2026

I'm not Cher. I'll not be reinventing myself. I like myself. But improving myself? We shall see. 

Had an office supply Christmas! 🥳

This includes:

shredder

36 gel pens

MORE post-it notes

little white cat holder for said post-it notes

a comb binding machine 

and a cool rack for my books when I venture to events

Still same body. Same attitude. Same neurodivergent self.

The new year looks to bring, hopefully, more time for self. A time to not only inhale, but exhale as well. When in pain, I will hold my breath, as if the mere fact I'm depriving myself of oxygen will help the pain. It doesn't. 

Going to try and breathe through this year and all its many facets. Easy to say on January 1, 2026. Harder to say on March 20, 2026. So, I guess, continuation? A recommitment to these goals? 

I was a control freak, for the longest time, when I raised my kids. Early twenties. Solo parent. Three kids. A year apart. I needed to feel as though I had some power over everything in my world.

I've mellowed a bit, thank God. But I still have those moments when my fists are clenched tight around something I should, perhaps, let go.

Writing?

OMG!!! 

I'm literally nearly 30,000 words in on a Women's Fiction piece I started like three weeks ago. It's smooth like buttah.  Edit "Out of the Shadows". And I would speculate where I go from there, but honestly? I didn't see this women's fiction piece at all until I couldn't stop thinking about it.

We lets the brain do what the brain does. Otherwise? Regret. Lots of it.

That's me. The first day of 2026. Already have a list for tomorrow. Because...of course I do. 😁

December 21, 2025

'Twas the Sunday before Christmas

and all through the place

my nerves frayed and tired

asking for grace

Presents are wrapped

tree decorated

here come the gbabies

who impatiently waited

Mimi is tired

there is no doubt

this holiday season

wore her smooth out

But babies are coming

on separate days

love and laughter promised

in so many ways

I cherish the moments

all the cheer in one place

memories made

a smile on my face

But after the papers ripped

and gifts given about

I'll tell 2025

TO GET THE FUCK OUT

****

I was THAT kid

I read the dictionary and encyclopedias. I wanted to know. I've always had insatiable curiosity about why.

In 7th or 8th grade, we covered mythology in English. I was fascinated by stories of love, loss, and punishment. You know the gods...

And I went deeper. I used different color highlighters to highlight mythological references in my dictionary. Blue and green were Greek and Roman. Yellow was Norse. Bigger than life characters who proudly stood for certain things. It was reading categories of categories, if that makes sense. 

Everything divided out, which my ADHD brain was all about.

You have a god and/or goddess for everything. For the sky. Earth. Wars. Peace. Hell. The Hunt. Love. Music. 

You name it, and someone in the mythological world hypes it.

But many of my favorite stories favored the unloved. I was a sucker for Hephaestus. Physically imperfect but an artisan. Freyja, ferocious Nordic goddess tied with magic and lover of cats. I vaguely remember watching "Isis" growing up, and that was the shit right there.

Magic has always intrigued me. Something so small as a twinkle or something so large as a continent forming. Stories of old embrace the beliefs in something much greater than ourselves. Aged bards with outlandish tales of gods, goddesses, and beings beyond the mundane. 

I started my latest book with a seed of an idea. I didn't have a title YET, which is unheard of from me. I need the title first, usually. But this time? I simply took the idea and typed. 

I'm nearly 10,000 words in with the long-term goal of a lengthy series. 

And I love it. 

It IS about mythological characters. But at its core? It's about trust, forgiveness, compassion, and choices. 

More as it comes.

I have updates! Woot!

Started my next novel, a women's fiction, and wrote 3500 words yesterday. It was...glorious! Collapsed in a heap afterwards, but we all know how much those words mean.

💃

More posts later as that unfolds, but I'm surprised and pleased that revelations came forward the more I added.

Discovered waxing again. 😬

I thought, as you aged, the hair on your body became finer. You know, less conspicuous. Plus, less shaving. 🤔

Seems like a got damn lie, let me tell you.

Arguably, the hair on my legs does seem softer. But, here we are, still needing to be rid of it.

The Honey bought me a wax kit a couple years ago, as I had it on my Wish List. I broke that bad boy back out the other day to try and reconnect with my inner waxer.

I'd been watching the Waxing Queen in my reels. This woman is the GOAT. She uses all these really cool waxes and has a no bitching policy. Waxing hairy arms, backs, legs, business areas, and faces. She is amazing and also gave me a little faith in myself to restart this hairless journey.

I had NO idea what in the hell I was doing.

Zero, folks. We all know how true this is in all my endeavors I take on...

Little back story...I am old.

I didn't have a wax warmer thing to hold wax and to attempt the dehairing, myself. I had those shitty Sally Hansen strips that pulled your face off when you went for a small hair patch. Then, I had the most indecent idea to pluck some hairs from my body. I started with my armpit. 😶

I plucked one fucking hair.

That son of a bitch was connected to my SPINE, people. Eyes welled up. Lost the use of my right leg. It was super bad. My armpit issued a cease and desist. I ceased and desisted. 

I have a regular razor, an electric razor, shitty wax strips, and this cool wax kit. 

Why do I even HAVE hair on my body right now??? 😖 Come on, now.

Back to it. 

I've a little bit of wax left over that I'm going to use today after my shower. Facial, of course. But I DID order some fancy new wax beads to try out after these are gone. (They come in tomorrow.) What are my target areas?

The 'stache and under the chin. 

Have you ever waxed your upper lip?

That shit will bring you to your knees. 

But I'm going for it because I AM NO QUITTER!

sigh

This might be super bad again...😑

Surprisingly, I am NOT Bipolar. I have been tested.

I am a lot of things, but, bipolar is not one of them. I know y'all read this blog sometimes and wonder what the fuck.

And that's cool.

Me, too.

It's my Chaos Cow life.

My ADHD brain does not do routines. Thought about this morning as I was making the same breakfast I've had for the past year and a half and doing it in a completely different order than the day before. It's not rote to me.

Nothing is.

Finished "Out of the Shadows" and will parse it out for edits. 

*INSERT ALL THE PARTY EMOJIS*

Moving on.

Because I'm always moving on.

Funny thing. My worst days are when my bones are rickety, and I can't get with anything but the pain. No creativity. Little to no movement. It's a complete stop.

And that's where a lot of my frustration comes from. 

I'm not 25 with a healthy body and free time. I can't attack this writing business as I would like because it seems that when I have momentum, SOMETHING happens. 

Literally.

I bitch, whine, and moan.

Then I move on.

These are the tribulations I face daily, both mentally and physically. But isn't everybody also dealing with something or several somethings?

This economy.

Aging parents.

Disabilities-your own or someone else's.

Divorce.

Food or housing insecure.

My wish for everyone is to keep moving. Keep trying. Keep...keeping. 

I'm starting another book today because, without fail...wholly born plots birth themselves into my wee grey matter as soon as my in-process book looks to wrap up.

That's how I REALLY knew I would be done soon. This damn idea for another book. It's not like I have fourteen (give or take ten) others.

No. Not at allllllllll. 🙄

Even the good stuff can be overwhelming. Take a breath. Then another. But not too quick. 

You'll be studying the inside of your eyelids. 

I'll see you in a couple days with updates. If there ARE updates. 😒

Please Lordt, let there be updates.

Canary: Out of the Shadows COMPLETE

It has finally happened.

I FINISHED writing "Canary: Out of the Shadows". 😌

Let me recap for you.

Started writing and thought I'd bang that son of a gun out by summer.

Spiraled into horrible depression from March-September.

Tried to find my feet again.

Tried new depression med. 

I can actually see daylight.

Wrote a major scene at the end--a battle, of course.

Thought I'd simply squeeze the other battle out of my butt cheeks.

No battle fell out of my ass.

Berated myself, daily, on my shortcomings.

Then it became a THING. You know what I'm talking about. Larger-than-life problem.

Told myself to write the story.

Researched the villains in the battle more.

Winnowed the number down to manageable.

More research.

Tried to write battle longhand.

Beat my own forehead with the composition book.

PROFANITY.

Blogged about writing the battle. Repeatedly.

Sat down in front of my computer yesterday. 

Pounded out that battle above ground scene with intent.

Glanced at same scene this morning.

The offering has been accepted.

Going to stitch chapters and scenes together today. 

Around 74,500 words. 

Yeah. I feel EXACTLY like Frodo. 🙄

I WROTE THE FUCKING SCENE!!!

Sweet Lord.

It has finally happened.

Your heathen child wrote the fucking scene that's been a thorn in her side for months!!!

And I laughed.

And cried.

Whew

I have one, literally, tiny piece at the end. Then EDITS!

Fun Google searches for the day:

How long is the average sword?

What kind of socks would an assassin want?

Let me see a bear's paw. And not the damn succulent, you noob.

Sword forged in forest.

Thread count

Etsy

Amazon

And there we have it. Or mostly have it.

🥳🎉