Carys Weldon Blog

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Love 'em and Leave 'em

I'm walking out the door again--heading for that speaking deal in Vegas--this Saturday at the Alexis Park Hotel in case anyone wants to show up.

My posting may be sporadic over the next couple weeks since it all depends on how cheap a hotel I rent...whether I have web service or not. I'll have the laptop and look for wifi.

I wanted to leave you with some sexy thing...but I got nothing.
(Sitting here for a few minutes staring at the screen.)
Nope. I got nothing. Sorry.

Maybe I'll have some great hotel sex or something tonight and will be super inspired tomorrow a.m. Wish me luck on that? ;)

I'm planning on reading erotic books to my husband all the way across the country. I'll let ya know how that goes.

Anyhow, I love my kids but I'm leaving them home to fend for themselves.
And I love all you--but will stay in touch.
Have a good one!

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:38 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Monday, October 23, 2006

Pillow Talk and creepy stuff

I bought a foam bed and pillow last year, right before Christmas. One of those mattress sets that has eight inches of NASA foam (or something) on the top, under the normal looking mattress fabric.

It holds the heat, and conforms to your body. I am sleeping a lot better than I was on our regular mattress--which was getting old. I'm a firm believer in putting money in a couple places--where you sleep every night of your life and in what you drive. I travel extensively (mostly for fun, sometimes to promote books) and I need a car that won't cripple me.

The first ten years my husband and I were married, we used any old bed/mattress we could find. We were young and our backs and shoulders, knees and toes could handle it, I guess. But, we're starting to feel things like...he used to do Evel Knievel stunts (and wrecks) on his motorcycles, and he dropped a transmission on his left shoulder--because the man is so strong that he can lift a tranny over his head by himself and put the bolts in at the same time. Where other men would get something or someone else to hold it up...anyhow...

and then there was the time I (stay with me here)that our beloved white cat with blue eyes (Pouncer) climbed the highest tree ever and couldn't figure out how to get down...for days...and me and the five kids cried for days because we were sure he was going to die up there...and of course that would mean his fluffy white fur and bones would forever be there...and we would never stop crying...and so our hero climbed the tree, got the cat out safely, but fell on the "tranny" shoulder.

Anyhow, I was thinking how warm and snuggly-cuddly that bed was this morning. The temperature in my state has plummeted to winter temps this week. It looks beautiful out but it is unbelievably cold.

I have a hard time thinking and moving when I'm freezing. We live primatively, imo. We don't have central heat and air. We have heaters and a/c.

So, until things start to warm up, I do things like type with a blanket on my lap, and get those super cheap gloves that are two pair for a dollar at the dollar store and cut the fingertips out of them--so I can feel like the starving (ha!) artists/writers you see in the movies.

Anyhow, back to the pillow talk. I bought this $54 pillow. Seems like a lot, doesn't it? I haul the darn thing all over the country the way a little kid takes his blankee. It's really silly. Either the foam pillow or the feather one. And when I'm out of bed, my husband cuddles up to those, and when he's out of bed/state, I cuddle up to his. It helps me sleep better.

Normally, when he is in the bed, I sleep a lot better...until he starts snoring or something.

But, I had a nightmare last night. I was at a house that I have never been to before and there were two ghosts. Normally, ghosts do not bother me. I talk to dead people. But these two were evil. I got the impression of how they died, and what they did before they died...and it was ugly. In my sleep, I tried to say a 'protection prayer' for all that was good (family, friends, etc) to be safe from these entitities...but I couldn't get the words out. I was afraid down in my soul.

Have you ever felt so scared that even your mind stutters? I've felt this a few times in dreams. It had my heart racing and I woke up in a panic, and worse, I couldn't tell if my husband was breathing. I kissed his back a couple times, cuddling up, then finally, because I still couldn't tell that he was alive (one of my big paranoias--apnea runs in his family) I put my hand on his face and head--like an annoying kid, whispering his name. He's part deaf, so that didn't help. But finally the hand over his head made him move. SUCH A RELIEF!

Do you have fears like that? Nightmares? The weird thing is...the dream reoccurred several times, every time I went back to sleep...which tells me there is something significant to it.

The female spirit that I saw in the dream set fire to the house. She told me she'd done it before and would do it again. I think I should try and give Stephen King a run for his money. I mean, creepy ghost dreams come to life could probably be some hit books. If nothing else, I could make a collection of stories for Tales from the Crypt or something.

Anyhow, it was just a dream, but it ruined my good night's rest. I wonder if people are more apt to have dreams like that this time of year because we have so much more spooky stuff on t.v.--?

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 6:59 AM :: 4 Comments:

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I knew there was a reason I don't watch spooky stuff on TV.

Usually when I can't sleep it's because of stress, not because of dreams. I just stare at the ceiling until 4:00am or so. The way I look and behave the next day might give other people nightmares.

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 8:27 AM  

I think it's possible that the spooky stuff on TV can trigger dreams like this.

But there's more to it, I think.

It's approaching Halloween. The Celts (and other ancients) believed the veil between the worlds (living and dead) was thinnest at this time of year and the spirits could move freely between them.

Perhaps a couple wandering ghosts manifested on the dream plane at the same place you intersected when you went to sleep. They re-created their reality when they were living, which might explain why you saw the unusual house and the like.

Just guessing here.

By Blogger Jen, at 8:49 AM  

Hi Carys! Been a while! But you haven't been far from my thoughts. You know reading this, I was having feelings all over the place grinning, then sad, then scary and all. Thanks for sharing this all. I rarely have dreams at all. If I do have a bad dream and wake up from it, I'll be in a panic but I end up shortly not know what I was dreaming about. I can't remember it very long. Once Jim told me to write it down and I did but the next day I couldn't understand what I wrote. My only problem is sleep walking. I mean its not often its like once every five years or so (when I was younger it was like once a week and scary stuff). So I don't know really what triggers them. Could be TV, could be what we read too.

By Blogger Cathie, at 8:24 PM  

lol ghosts don't bother me I haven't met one yet. Real folks bother me more than anything I haven't run across yet. Cause real folks can and will kill ya. That's funny about your hubby dropping a transmission on his shoulder well not funny funny but ironic funny. My husband dropped one on his chest years ago. He was home alone at the time and he lifted it off enough to get out from under it. He didn't tell me this until I had to take him to the emergency room two days later. We thought he was having a heart attack but he had pulled a muscle around his heart lifting that transmission off of him.

By Blogger Pamk, at 5:15 PM  

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Sunday, October 22, 2006

Skippin' out

Gonna start on family and work myself up to something sexual. I AM a twisted woman.

My (youngest) daughter and I left the house AS IF WE WERE GONNA GO to the turkey shoot--but we didn't. We did a day. We had lunch with two of my friends--Becky (the aspiring writer) and Linda (the tarot reader who reads as Maiden of Mystery at

We went to Logan's Roadhouse. The food was good, company was great...but my daughter and I vote the chairs to be the worst out there. Of course, we both have major back issues.

I had my nails down, and she got a a vibrating chair--it included a foot and leg massage. I kept glancing over there--asking the Malaysian man doing my nails, "Uh, is that a vibrating chair?" and "Hey. What are they doing to her now?"

I've never had a pedicure, ever, but I think that's the place to get one. Three of my four daughters have foot fetish things, shoes, and whatever you can do to their feet--prettiest feet competitions. Of course, they have pretty feet like their dad. The other one has my feet and we know enough not to get into those kinds of competitions. (We have these weird little baby toes. Mine has the smallest toe nail ever. Yeah, like I said, it ain't pretty.)

They work though, so I guess we shouldn't complain.

I watched a movie recently...damn, I can't remember the name of it...I may have to come back and post it. I started laughing so hard...because the guy started kissing the girl, then dropped down and sucked her toe.

I have an ongoing joke or two with my husband and friend about toe whores...which I won't elaborate on at the moment. So, with that set of jokes already in my head, when the movie went to toe sucking--and no it wasn't porn--they would have been sucking something else in that, thank you very much--I got laughing out loud. Toe Whore. Toe Whore.

But, you can't be a whore if you don't get paid, right? So, would the appropriate term be TOE SLUT? And which one would be the slut? The sucking man, or the woman who lets him?

Which all brings me back to thinking about that romantic times convention I went to in May...where some other erotic authors and I got into a discussion of interesting sexual turn-ons. I guess I am too toe ticklish. The idea of having my toes sucked as foreplay... (or, God forbid doing it for someone else, even the man that I love...ick. Sorry, it isn't my thing.)

BUT this stupid idea keeps being presented to me, it seems, everywhere I go for over six months now. So, I have to ask you you think toe sucking is sexy or just funny?

Stefani Kelsey (that favorite editor of mine) told me that it could be very erotic. I have friends who admit they are not averse to it. And others that shiver at the thought.

You see how messed up I am? I am taking a toe whore poll! LOL
Mostly, I wanna know if it is widespreadly enjoyed so much that I should include it in a book someday. If I go with my own thoughts on it, I'm sure there will be laughter involved in the scene. I can just see it now:

Heidi's laying on the bed and Mr. Wonderful is kissing her all over. He works his way down to her ankle. She, of course, is thinking, "God, I can't wait til he starts coming back up."

But no, he gets entranced with her foot, kissing the arch, massaging it--and that feels good until suddenly he begins to suck--her big toe--and she realizes he's doing a good imitation of head on her toe.

She props herself up on her elbows and watches for the space of several minutes, then glances downward and realizes just how turned on he is by doing this and...

accuses, "You are NOT pretending my toe is a dick, are you?"

(Sorry. I'm bad. Couldn't resist.)

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:19 AM :: 2 Comments:

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"You are NOT pretending my toe is a dick, are you?"


OK, to the toe sucking question... My feet are very ticklish so I highly doubt this is something I would like.

I welcome the chance for someone to prove me wrong though. ;)

('Course, has to be the right type. lol)

By Blogger Jen, at 4:27 PM  

I love my feet for their practical uses, but they are neither pretty nor sexy. And I bet my little toenail is smaller than yours.

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 8:22 AM  

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Saturday, October 21, 2006

Turkey Shoots

My youngest daughter is a senior this year and they are doing a thing called Project Grad--a prize giving night after graduation--something fun and cool to keep kids busy and safe on the night that so many wanna go and get drunk and stupid. It's a cool idea.

But, it looks like it fills the whole year with fund raisers--which are generally things that suck us dry. Today is a turkey shoot. We're in Missouri, so it is no surprise that there are guns involved in the first big fund raiser. These people are a little nuts on that sort of thing. Kids get guns at the age of eight here. (I'm not kidding.)

I am not for gun control. I'm a firm believer that guns don't kill people--PEOPLE kill people. Responsible gun ownership should be required. I'd be the first one to say...I don't think kids or stupid people should be allowed to have guns. But I think gun registration is a scary thing. If someone is murdered with a .44 and you are on the list of registered owners of a .44, you automatically get put on the suspect list--which they work their way through as a process of elimination. The truth is...the only people with registered guns are the law abiding types. Criminals will always have unregistered guns, and illegal weaponry of every design. If we give up our guns, how will we defend ourselves?

Okay, sorry for spouting my politics about guns and gun control. Please don't unsubscribe if you disagree. Instead, feel free to comment and persuade me to your viewpoint.

One of the problems in this world is that people remain silent. They slink away. Instead of standing up for what they believe in. If nothing else, let me empower you to state your opinion...(even if it's wrong?!? LOL)

I don't assume I know everything. I'm willing to hear supporting arguments for opposing viewpoints on anything I post.

But what I really meant to talk about today is the whole fund raiser concept. When I was a kid (I know, it was SO long ago and the world worked differently then)...local businesses donated to our worthy causes. We did bake sales and car washes. And no one felt nickel and dimed to death. Everybody was happy to donate a cake, brownies, or snickerdoodles in baggies--or something.

But this year...we're gonna be selling candles, pampered chef (and I love both of those...but the candles WE'RE selling are way expensive ones)...and then there's about four other THINGS/BOOKLETS of stuff that is overpriced--that you can get at the dollar store for a buck or buy from the fund raiser book for $12 so they'll donate $4-6 to the kids. I'd much rather donate $6 and save some money.

Is it just me? Or are you getting nickel and dimed to death by this sort of stuff from your own kids, or kids you know?

I DO want $20-30 worth of girl scout cookies since those are only out once a year and I like to stick them in my freezer. But other than that, I have yet to see a fundraiser I could stand.

I have asked repeatedly for them to get smart. How about buying candy bars (regular size) when they go on sale 3-4 to a dollar, and then sell them for $.75 cents. Fifty cents profit on each one could add up, and people would by them. Other kids would buy them. But no. We get the boxes of the super size ones--and the fundraiser place makes as much money off of us as the kids get to keep for their goal. I just don't understand it. we are probably gonna go see if we can shoot well enough to get us a frozen turkey.

I AM a dead-eye--no kidding. Ask me about killing a rattle snake from my front porch some time.

But I've never done skeet shooting, or clay pigeons or whatever they call them here.
Anyhow, if anyone's anywhere near Branson...feel free to come to the shooting range on HWY 65, 11 miles north of Branson. It'll be going til 2 p.m.

(SO much for writing today!)

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:19 AM :: 3 Comments:

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okay tell me about shooting the rattlesnake from the front porch. I completely agree about the gun thing. I live in Al they do the whole gun thing too. But I have one problem and that is parents that are too stupid to live who leave guns lying around where anyone can get ahold of them. I know I know young kids should be taught to respect guns but what about visiting kids who have never been around guns and I don't know about you but sometimes my kids do stupid things they are kid after all. But IMO guns and kids should not be mixed unless there is a responsible adult supervising.

By Blogger Pamk, at 12:12 PM  

We did a bunch of stupid fundraisers when I was in school, too, like the selling chocolate bars and things from expensive catalogs. We also had a few that weren't so bad, mostly involving band performances to raise money for field trips.

The main fundraiser for dry grad was cleaning toilets at the fair. I didn't participate, mostly because I didn't want to spend any more time than I had to with my classmates.

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 12:47 PM  

I can comment today, couldn't yesterday thanks to Blogger issues.


The company my dad works for hauls an interesting combination of things. Hydrochloric acid (mostly), sand, and clay pigeons.

When I went to school -- actually probably the last 2-3 years -- they were starting the nickle-and-dime you to death thing. Though they had the courtesy (I suppose) to confine it to one semester.

By Blogger Jen, at 4:29 PM  

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Friday, October 20, 2006

Nasty Cats

I have tried repeatedly to post this.

It's a good thing that I didn't write a long winded message today.

Go. Take a look. Laugh.

I particularly like Trashcat and the one on the couch, and of course, the one that wants to kill me.

Now, if that doesn't make you must be dead.

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 9:59 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Need a laugh?

Check this site out. I swear, it will make you laugh. I wish I knew how to make links hyper so you could just click and go...but I'm woefully uneducated on this sort of thing. Anyhow, go, but be forewarned, some of the cats depicted are nasty kitties. ~Carys

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 9:09 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Thursday, October 19, 2006

New Word

My new favorite word is: defenestration

Ever heard of it before?
(Me either!)

It means: the act of throwing someone or something out of a window

How many times have I plotted defenestration and didn't know what it was called...except my insanity, or someone else driving me crazy.


There is a word for everything, it seems.
Come on, now, confession time...
How many of you have at least contemplated defenestration?

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 1:43 PM :: 3 Comments:

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The first time I came across that word was in a David Eddings novel. I think it was The Hidden City.

By Blogger Jen, at 3:25 PM  

I've heard of it before, and done it, too.

But only when the window was open.

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 1:17 PM  

I'm SO impressed!
I knew my readers were brilliant!
Why didn't you tell me you knew such a cool word?

I have to tell you, I sent the word out to many, many people. (Like a kid who discovered a new candy.)

And one (church) lady emailed me back to say that she did a google search and came up with a bunch of "bad and nasty sites" and she wondered where I found it. I found DEFENESTRATION on a list of publisher's sites--there's an ezine that does nothing but humor. I didn't know what the word meant--I know, it's crazy that I admit it when I'm clueless--so I googled: definition defenestration. What I posted was the first link--I never looked below it because I had my answer on the first shot.

It's just amazing to me that there is always a church lady involved in looking down her nose at me--no matter what I do--even the innocent things!

The poor lady would have a heart attack if she knew what Carys Weldon wrote about.

Sex. OMG. Is that a dirty word or what?

And who the hell said it was dirty in the first place? I'd shoot their ghost if I knew.

I say...get naked. Run through the trees. Let your lily white ass feel the breeze. Giggle while you do it. But watch the stickers when you do it!

(Yes, Carys thinks she's a poet. Mojocastle may publish a collection of my sex poetry for Valentine's day. I hope you'll check it out.)

By Blogger CarysWeldonblog, at 7:52 AM  

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Sex below

**Warning Will Robinson there is sex below.

Sex talk, anyway.
Why do puns slip so easily from my tongue and fingertips?
(Nobody knows except I'm a gutter head.)

Sex below.
What does that make you think of?

Service! Service to your fellow man?
Or...a gift to you?

I wake up thinking about stuff like this all the time. I dunno why.
Because DOWN DEEP I am always...well, you know.

Carys whispers, "Thinking about sex."

You'd swear I was depraved or deprived or something but (most of the time) I'm not.

Let me show you how my leaping brain works...

This is actually what I woke up thinking about FIRST, right after...I gotta go to the bathroom...and I don't wanna get up but...since I gotta know.

Anyhow, at the writer's conference this last weekend, my husband had a woman sit on his lap--and it's a friend of mine who is built real cute, (amazing legs) and she's got a great sense of humor--which is always a BIG plus in attraction.

Somebody asked if that bothered me. (And she apologized for joking like that--later in email.) It was actually funny. She walked past him and then, since there were no readily available seats, sat on his knee.

It was actually a "carefully on the edge of his knee thing." He was shocked, I think, that she did it. And then she almost fell. He offered immediately to give her his seat or go find her another. (Which was a good move on his part!)

Now...some people asked me...was she scamming on him? I said, nope.
They asked if I was worried that he might be thinking about her on his lap more.
I said, nope.

Leap some more...

And I dunno how many times VCK--who posts here--had my hubby run her to her motel room--with my permission. The first time they left, someone turned to me the MINUTE they were out the door and said, "Did you just let your husband take HER to her ROOM?"

(Because anybody that knows VCK knows she likes sex.) Read this part fast because VCK may insist I remove this part of today's post. ;)

Okay...this is the point where those who have met me in person will probably laugh. (Because you've seen my attitude up close.) I pursed and licked my lips and said, "I took care of him at the motel earlier. There is no way in hell the man is UP for anything this soon."

It got a laugh.
But really, that IS my philosophy and I'd like to give it as a word to the wise. If you have a man in your life, and you keep him satisfied--so much that he goes to work just for rest time--you don't have to worry about him cheating on you.

And I will say that just because I licked my lips doesn't really mean that I gave oral sex. Doesn't mean I didn't, either. (But really, who wants to know who DID that? Or when? That really, really is too much information, isn't it?)

Or should I do a contest for those who post how many times they got sex in a week, or month? Hm. I'll have to think about that.

Truth is, I think more people are getting less and less sex than they want. I know, bottom line, I do. But then, my mind thinks about it all the time. Probably because I write THOSE types of stories that I do.

And my husband is currently hanging out around the house--distracting me all day long. He gets up hours after I do, comes in the hall (spelling tells you what I mean. Come on, get out of the gutter.) And I greet him with stuff like, "Morning, nudey man!"

And then I laugh and he grins. (We are SO weird, I think.)

Anyhow, I got off
track, that is.

I think this is one of the problems women get into, though--and men--we need sexual conversation about attraction, and sexual contact to make us feel loved and desired. Maybe, as we grow older and our hormones get out of whack, we need less actual sex.

But...copping feels of his package is a good way to make a man know you're thinking of being intimate. And if you want to keep a man feeling good--hold him (you know, down there) as you go to sleep. Or slide your hand over his hip if his back is to you.

Okay, that sort of stuff actually usually results in a little more. But, try it. i'm sure he'll like it, and when he's happy, he'll treat you better. I swear it.

We should not be afraid to be sensual women.
I had a friend years ago that complained because her hubby was a rutting pig. Like the Everyready bunny, he just kept going over and over again. She felt bad because she just couldn't seem to satisfy him even though he was getting orgasm after orgasm.

Dr. Ruth here (moi) said, "Okay. I came up with a plan. Taking a football concept--the best defense is a good offense--I time, when he walks in the door, you gotta be the actress whore of all time. Meet him at the door, with a full frontal sexual assault. All night long, no matter how much he performs, ask for him to do it one more time. Insist. Beg. Do whatever it takes to get him up to the action. And when he honestly can do no more, complain that you aren't...well...satisfied."

She did it. And guess what...she had to do it again a couple times in a row, but then the guy got over his apparent "I can't get fulfilled" phase. And things got onto a more normal, healthy playing field...although she realized the power she had over him, emotionally, by insisting he perform one more time than what he was really up to.

No offense guys.

There is a power in insisting your partner (male or female) go one more time over their limit...because it changes their feeling of adequacy, or superiority if you're turned the tables on them.

Sometimes I just do that attitude for fun. And my husband plays it on me. How many times can you reach climax today--any method is fair, as long as it doesn't involve animals or children.

I shouldn't have to clarify that, but I will. I KNOW my readers are into good healthy sex. Or would like to be, anyway.

Notice I said anything goes...which makes me think about public places--ah, but that's a post for another day. ;)

For those of you who are single--for whatever reason--take notes, remember them later. I swear that this is a good way to keep a partner thinking about you--if nothing else, what aphrodisiac did you take that worked?

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:39 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Advise me please

I need your suggestions.

My right arm aches continually. The problem probably goes back to fifteen years I spent as president of a bowling league in Nevada. I'm sure it's been aggravated by using the mouse and typing. Now, it's hurting all the way up into the shoulder.

Got any suggestions on how to alleviate the pain?

Don't tell me to take tylenol. I have a friend, literally, who just almost died of liver failure from a build up of acetominophen in her system. And I had another friend whose daughter almost died from drinking children's tylenol. (And no, I'm not over-dramatizing that.)

Today, I'm gonna get serious about SOME project. Don't know what. Maybe the wolfy book I'm writing for Mojocastle. Maybe a western. I haven't ever written a western, but I had twenty years in the desert between Vegas and Death Valley, and I used to train horses, and run barrels, and hang out with cowboys, so I figure I should be able to do a fair job on that.

Do you like westerns? And, if so, are you more an indian fan or a cowboy one?

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 6:34 AM :: 4 Comments:

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I like some westerns. *s* I know that's quite vague, but... I know a lot of people are real keen on Louis L'Amour, but not me.

I'm kind of evenly split between cowboys & indians. Though, a lot of times, the indians are more intriguing to me for some reason.

By Blogger Jen, at 7:45 AM  

For the arm: take a break from the computer.

No, wait, that might get me in trouble around here.

I like westerns. Whether I'm a fan of the indians or the cowboys depends on the book.

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 9:19 AM  

Honestly ... I would see a doctor about the arm pain. I was diagnosed with left ulnar neuropathy some years ago and had to have surgery. There were no guarantees that my arm would get better -and it didn't really, but if I hadn't taken care of it I probably would have lost all nerve function eventually.

I have osteoarthritis now. My doctor prescribes Etodolac for the pain. At first it made me tired all the time, but I've learned to live with it. It's also great at preventing headaches and migraines - I hardly ever experience them anymore!

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 7:24 AM  

INDIANS!! brave warrior driven wild by innocent puritan slave girl.

By Blogger Raquel, at 6:34 PM  

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Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Cosmic Event

Today is the day to meditate for world peace, and your own improved circumstances. I thought you might be interested in this:

A cosmic trigger event is occurring
on the 17th of October 2006
============ ========= =====

This is the beginning, one of many trigger events to
come between now and 2013. An ultraviolet (UV) pulse
beam radiating from higher dimensions in universe-2
will cross paths with the Earth on this day. Earth
will remain approximately within this UV beam for 17
hours of your time.

This beam resonates with the heart chakra, it is
radiant fluorescent in nature, blue/magenta in color.
Although it resonates in this frequency band, it is
above the color frequency spectrum of your universe-1
which you, Earth articulate in. However due to the
nature of your soul and soul groups operating from
Universe-2 frequency bands it will have an effect.

The effect is every thought and emotion will be
amplified intensely one million-fold. Yes, we will
repeat, all will be amplified one millions time and

Every thought, every emotion, every intent, every
will, no matter if it is good, bad, ill, positive,
negative, will be amplified one million times in

What does this mean ?

Since all matter manifest is due to your thoughts,
i.e. what you focus on, this beam will accelerate
these thoughts and solidify them at an accelerated
rate making them manifest a million times faster than
they normally would.

For those that do not comprehend. Your thoughts, what
you focus on create your reality. This UV beam thus
can be a dangerous tool. For if you are focused on
thoughts which are negative to your liking they will
manifest into your reality almost instantly. Then
again this UV beam can be a gift if you choose it to

Mission-1017 requires approximately one million people
to focus on positive, benign, good willed thoughts for
themselves and the Earth and Humanity on this day.
Your thoughts can be of any nature of your choosing,
but remember whatever! you focus on will be made
manifest in a relatively faster than anticipated time
frame. To some the occurrences may almost be bordering
on the miracle.

All we ask is positive thoughts of love, prosperity,
healing, wealth, kindness, gratitude be focused on.

This UV beam comes into full affect for 17 hrs on the
17th of October 2006. No matter what time zone you are
in the hours are approximately 10:17 am on the 17th of
October to 1:17 am on the 18th October. The peak time
will be 17:10 (5:10 pm) on the 17th October. You do
not need to be in a meditative state through out this
time, though would be beneficial. The main key time no
matter what time zone you are in will be the peak time
of 17:10 (5:10 pm).

Perhaps at this time if you can find a peaceful spot
or location to focus. The optimum is out in the
vicinity of grounded nature, likened to that of a
large tree or next to the ocean waves. Focus on
whatever it is you desire. What is required for the
benefit of all Earth and Humanity is positive thoughts
of loving nature.

We call this UV beam trigger event, "818" gateway.
Please forward this message to as many people as you
know who will use this cosmic trigger event to focus
positive, good willed thoughts. We require
approximately 1-million people across globe to
actively participate in this event. Please use
whatever communication mediums you have at your
disposal. Reach out to as many people as possible. We
require 1-million plus people at the least to trigger
a shift for humanity from separation and fragmentation
to one of unification and oneness. This is your
opportunity to take back what is rightfully yours i.e .
Peace and Prosperity for all Earth and Mankind.

This is a gift, a life line from your universe so to
speak, an answer to your prayers. What you do with it
and whether or not you choose to participate is your


Center for Intuitive Development & Energy Therapies
Dave and Brenda McCoy Lappin
706 S. Marlan Ave. PHONE # (417) 869-8551
Visit our web sites: or


Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 9:28 AM :: 4 Comments:

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hi carys!



By Anonymous Anonymous, at 11:38 AM  

Congrats to Yanni for winning the contest.

As for the Comment posted about October 17th....I'm trying really really hard to think positive thoughts but that would have been easier if I'd j/k

Thanks for the contest!

By the way Carys, I loved your Wanton Werewolf books (I have the trade paperback) and they were very cool, different from the usual and sexy as he**.

Hugs, Robin

By Blogger Robin Snodgrass, at 1:56 PM  

Hi Carys! Please enter me in the contest. I'm going to check out your site as well. Five kids, huh? You must have a really sexy hubby!!! :-D

By Blogger Jen, at 2:44 AM  

Just for posting here, you're all in another contest. So, there's hope for winning.

Linda, you are too funny.

Robin, I am SO glad you liked my WW books. I re-read them from time to time and guys are just too hot. (I'm not kidding.)

And for the record, anyone who doesn't "love HOOD"--I'm telling you now, the man is misunderstood and as soon as the series finds a new home, you'll learn a lot more about that. Fans of Leer and Jack will be glad to know that they reappear in other books in the series--but there are other to-die-for alphas waiting to come out.

And--about my husband--he's one in a million on a hundred different levels. He treats me really well, and he does his best to be sexy--and you know how that goes--it either comes off, or it makes me laugh--so it's all good, either way.

By Blogger CarysWeldonblog, at 6:48 AM  

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Sunday, October 15, 2006

Female parts in plural

All right, let me say up front--I don't wanna lose you to this other author--but this blog entry was too interesting not to point you to it.

Did you know that the female part known as clit has a plural? (I didn't.)

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 4:29 PM :: 0 Comments:

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Back in the saddle again


I'm back in the saddle again--or in my computer chair anyway. I just got in from the conference in Eureka Springs--where I got lucky. (In more ways than one, but I won't go into the motel stuff with hubby.) I sold all but two of my Wanton Werewolf books, and a couple of the other titles I'm promoting at the moment. And I won seven awards, five of which were second places (which means money! YAY!)

I was up late every night and am dead tired. So, I'm gonna take a nap.

Then, I have an interview online to set up promo plans for my upcoming release COURTING DISASTER (by Jennifer DiCamillo).

I'll let you know what we figure out on that.

I want to say that it was great to hang out in Eureka with some of my blog posting friends: Jen, Vickey, and Dion. We did the haunted house together, then did some balcony roosting at the Crescent Hotel...on Friday the 13th. Woowowowowowowo

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 11:54 AM :: 4 Comments:

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It was a lot of fun! And so great to see you! And so wonderful that you won!! :)

I've decided that with our little discussion on selling/submitting poetry on Friday at your book table and winning the 2 HMs on mine last night, someone's trying to tell me something or the joke is on me. lol.

Either way, I'll be sending more of it out and let the chips fall where they may.

BTW, I'll send you the e-mail with the poem and the columns (from the OWFI HM) tomorrow.

By Blogger Jen, at 6:41 PM  

Hey, Congrats on the awards....Glad you had some fun also....
Let me know when COURTING DISASTER is coming out,I can't wait for the book...The first book was the best....

By Blogger Brenda, at 4:05 PM  

You're in the drawing for the new contest, Jen and Bren. ;)

I WILL announce when Courting Disaster comes out.

And I think you really should do more writing, Jen--and get it out there. You obviously have talent. So, use it! I have to say, again, that I admired how great you looked this last weekend. Your make-up was beautiful, and I wish I had lost as much weight.

By Blogger CarysWeldonblog, at 6:51 AM  

Congratulations on the awards!

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 9:12 AM  

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Saturday, October 14, 2006

Eureka Screams

Last night a group of troublemakers (and moi) went down to the Castle of Fear--also called Eureka Screams. I only screamed a few times. I did hang out in my husband's back pocket the whole time...which he thought was pretty funny. I don't know why he would be surprised--I always let him be my hero, my blocker, my front man,...

After surviving that, and since none of us wet our pants or anything, we decided to out to other public places. So, we hit the Cresenct Hotel--which is supposed to be seriously haunted.

It WAS crawling...but not with ghosts...just a couple of wedding parties. Some of those folks were scary.

So, that's how I spent my Friday the 13th.
What did you do?

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:36 AM :: 1 Comments:

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Nice to know I wasn't the only screamer.

Vicki claimed to be a chicken, but I don't think I heard even a whimper out of her and she was behind me.

By Blogger Jen, at 6:42 PM  

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Thursday, October 12, 2006

Too Funny...

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Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:38 AM :: 4 Comments:

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Those T-shirts are great and I can identify with most of them. Thanks for the jokes also, a good laugh.

By Blogger robynl, at 11:38 AM  

I love those T-shirts and can relate to most of them! The comic strips are cute too, and made me smile :^) Thanks for brightening my day!!

By Blogger Cherie, at 11:20 AM  

Love the shirts! The first pink one sounds JUST like me ;)

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 3:55 AM  

We all need laughs.
Feel free to post funny stuff!
You're all in the drawing for the new contest, by the way.

By Blogger CarysWeldonblog, at 6:52 AM  

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Tiny things just don't do it for me.

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:36 AM :: 1 Comments:

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That is one UGLY guy. I don't think BIG things would do it for him either ;)

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 3:56 AM  

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I've tried to post this three times this morning. (Groan)

I'm going to Eureka Springs, Arkansas to the Ozarks Creative Writers Conference which will be held in the Best Western Inn of the Ozarks. There is a mixer tonight, and booksignings, workshops, and banquets on Friday and Saturday. Feel free to come in. Booksignings are open to the public.

I'm hoping I can get internet access and blog while I'm away.

If you get bored, you may want to look at these things that I'm included in (under the name Jennifer DiCamillo):

Spider Thief Publishing had a contest, I placed third with my story "Stick a Pin in Barbie's Heart." They've produced an anthology titled "VERA ICON."

Dogma Publishing has a new anthology out titled "MOONLIT THOUGHTS."

Taj Mahal Review (Cyberwit publishing of India) has their summer anthology out. I have haiku in that.

Sun Piper Press has their anthology out titled "Whispers of Inspiration." I have haiku in that, too.

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:30 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Wednesday, October 11, 2006


Check out this article in the NY Times, and take note of the quote by my favorite editor, Stefani Kelsey.

Nora Roberts is quoted there, too.

And the "trashy" site they refer to is:

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 12:42 PM :: 0 Comments:

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Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Guilty pleasures

I you feel guilty for doing small things that feel good?

I do, and I was wondering if I'm alone. It really doesn't matter what I do--if it feels good, I almost always feel some sort of guilt.

If I spend extra money on myself to get my hair or nails done, I think...I probably shouldn't do this because that money could go to...whatever.

I have been a bbw for fifteen years, and you'd think I'd just get over the fact that I'm fat, but I haven't. Every thing that goes in my mouth, I think...I probably shouldn't eat. Today. At all. Ever. Doesn't matter what it is, fruit, a meal, dessert.

And God forbid I want to take a muscle relaxer, pain killer, or a drink of alcohol.

Even sex, or reading about sex sometimes, makes me think...should I be doing this?

I know there are people out there that look down on all of that stuff, and sometimes I let the world get me down. But, it's not like any of that is hurting anyone.

I'm just wondering if it's just me. Or all women in general. Is it the way we were raised that makes us weigh every pleasure like it's a sin or something to feel guilty over?

When I use my conscious brain, I know that I these things are not wrong. Having a drink with a friend, having sex with my husband--or even thinking about those things--or enjoying re-reading one of my books, they make me feel good. And God knows I need some things to feel good about.

Don't we all?
Please tell me I'm not alone in my need for guilty pleasures.

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:26 AM :: 4 Comments:

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I think you are way too hard on yourself. (g)

However, I do feel a bit guilty when I get my hair done because I LOVE the way this one hairdresser does my hair and he's expensive.

A drink, pain killer, sex or enjoying a good book of any genre?? NO. These are some of the things that make life wonderful. :)

But, if it's any consolation, it's not just you. There are a lot of women who feel guilty over feeling good about things. Unfortunately, people have "taught" them to feel that way.

By Blogger Rinda Elliott, at 8:57 PM  

Oh, I didn't mean to sound like I don't have guilt. Oh, I do-- but unfortunately, I suffer guilt over things I have no control over most of the time. Ridiculous. (g)

By Blogger Rinda Elliott, at 8:58 PM  

Thanks for the support, Rinda. I don't think you came across like you don't have guilt. We all do, don't we?

But...I think you're right. We need to get over it. ;)

By Blogger CarysWeldonblog, at 1:33 PM  

I usually only feel guilty over little things like that if they somehow hurt someone else (if somebody had previously mentioned that they wanted that last cookie, I'd feel guilty taking it) or if they get in the way of things I think I should be doing.

But then, particularly with homework these days, there's the question of when small things that feel good (like reading library books) turn into large-scale avoidance of responsibility.

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 10:49 PM  

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Monday, October 09, 2006

New Contest

Due to the posting of an odd and suspicious review on Amazon, I'm offering a new contest for a gift certificate.

To enter, all you have to do is go to and search for my Wanton Werewolf Anthology. Then, check out the horrendous review that's been posted.

After that, click "No, this review is not helpful."

And write your own review comments. Anyone who has read any of the stories contained in the Werewolf Series can post a review. It would be great if you'd note all the things you liked about my werewolf books...especially if those comments prove that the negative reviewer obviously didn't read the book.

Once you've clicked the NO HELP button, and posted a positive review--which does not have to be long--and can be as detailed (or not) as you please--email me to tell me that you've done that. Your name will be entered in the hat for that private drawing.

Thanks for your support!

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 9:34 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Sunday, October 08, 2006

Orgasm Killers

This was too funny to me.

The article is nothing, lists a few things everyone probably already knows about foods and things that affect libido, but the comments on it are hilarious.

Someone says:
First, I think this is retarded.
Then, he's flamed.

Someone else says:
Will constipation mess up a hard on...?

(That made me laugh out loud.)
#48 answers that.

And then:
A 76 yr old man that swears he can...(well, you have to go look--but I don't believe him.)

Then, clear down on the next page of responses, someone says the list is incomplete. HIS libido killer is his ex-wife.

#53 response degenerates further by saying:
all of yuns are "retarded"

Defender speaks up on #55:
#53 lilpc187 by the way you just posted your ignorance shows right through. I've worked with mentally retarded people who spoke better than you, and who were probably smarter than you too. They are some of the sweetest kindest and most innocent people in this world, too bad they have to live in existence with ignoramous people like you.

shutterbug #23: "Which head?" Good question - you are too funny! King COOL #24: "Power to the smart brain" - lookout world! LOL!

And the posts in the 60's talk about how lousy they all are in bed.

(Yeah. I've been bored.)

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 8:56 PM :: 0 Comments:

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Best Soup Commercial of All Time¤t=HeinzMicrowave.flv

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 12:33 PM :: 0 Comments:

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Yesterday, I submitted a collection of g-rated mysteries to a publisher (via email) and was accepted within an hour or two.

So, sometime next year, UNDER THE MOON will be publishing a print collection of my short stories. Many of them have won awards. A lot of them are humorous. Some are just downright silly or SO obvious that when the truth comes out at the end, you gotta roll your eyes. And then, of course, some are creepy because they are too possible.

I'm trying to come up with a good title for the collection. I've been calling it The Mentally Unstable (and other mysteries) because TMU is the name of one of the stories.

Another one is titled Despicado which means IT SATISFIES. That story is based on the concept that the US govt was behind the twin tower bombings, and the operation was called Despicado. My tale opens after all but one of the team members are extinguished--and he meets his assassin. Do you think Despicado sounds like a good title?

Would it draw you because you now know what it is, or if you didn't know, would it draw you because you were curious? Or, do you think I need to consider other options?

Taking all suggestions!

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 9:34 AM :: 3 Comments:

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To me, "Despicado" is more appealing. It was even before you said what it meant.

Though, I'd likely pick up "The Mentally Unstable" as well, but probably after "Despicado."

By Blogger Jen, at 5:39 PM  

I agree with Jen that "Despicado" is more appealing.

"The Mentally Unstable" sounds a bit like a self-help book.

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 10:47 AM  

... and also, congratulations!

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 10:48 AM  

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Saturday, October 07, 2006

Carys out of the closet

I don't know how many of you realize that I write under more than one name, and in pretty much every genre out there...but I do.

Under the name Jennifer DiCamillo, I have poetry published in the UK (Stride Magazine), poetry/essay/short story published in India (Taj Mahal Review--Dec 2005 and June 2006--available for purchase) , and a story accepted in Australia. My works have been read in those countries, and others including: Russia, Scotland, Wales, England, Prague--wherever the hell that is, (okay, I really know!) and more. I have been published repeatedly in Storyteller Magazine (US) and that goes all over the world.

That will explain why many of the emails I return to you have the name Jennifer DiCamillo at the top. I answer to JENN, JENNIFER, and CARYS.

Now, I'm completely out of the closet.

I use Carys Weldon on anything that is R rated or above. So, if you like my writing and want to find some of my stuff between now and the release of future Carys Weldon works, you might want to check out my 13th century sword slinging novel The Price of Peace, or the upcoming Courting Disaster (Zumaya Publications), or the paranormal mystery anthology Deadknots that will be coming out soon from Hard Shell Word Factory. That one is co-written with mystery writer CJ Winters. Half her stories, the other half mine.

The Price of Peace contains two chapters of erotic "persuasion" that I think Carys Weldon fans would love.

I also have a poetry book or two that will be out soon. I'm talking to Mojocastle about releasing a whole collection of erotic poetry...Even if you're not into poetry, I think you will find that erotic reading--in rhythm--is very stimulating. Might make you a poetry fan, even.

Also, if you can find the TRUE CONFESSIONS dated September 2006, you will find a story in there called THE WRONG MAN. I wrote that. Of course, I can't prove it because I got no byline. I also wrote the DEPLOY TO WAR story that appeared on the cover of their June issue.

And for those interested in nonfiction, you can go to and read the June issue--where my Horse Auction story is. Or last October, when I did a story about the Loch Ness Monster of the Ozarks. Or the May 2004 archive of an interview with me. I also have restaurant reviews in there, and upcoming articles based on the area surrounding where I live.

I also have some children's books coming out by Tree Press.

Just wanted you to know that I am running my fingers through a lot of little pots. So, you can get your fix of my weird wit, and passionate writing in other bites while you're waiting for the CW titles to be re-released.

Remember, friends, that posting to this blog gets your name in the hat for the next $10 gift certificate drawing, and reading the newsletter I just sent out--and responding to the question at the bottom, will get you entered in the other $10 drawing. GOOD LUCK.


Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 9:52 AM :: 4 Comments:

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Every year at the OWFI and OCWI awards banquets, it seems like I hear your name quite often.

You're quite prolific, lady. :)

By Blogger Jen, at 11:50 AM  

I think I actually like your nonfiction better than your fiction.

I have been going through a nonfiction phase lately, though, so it might just be me.

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 11:49 PM  

*Thanks* for sharing your secrets with us ;)

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 6:17 AM  

I met Jennifer DiCamillo at the Romantic Times Bookclub Convention in Dayton Beach in May...She is a special lady and has changed my life..
I bought her book "The Price of Peace"..It is the very best historial book that I have every read in a very long time...I read a lot of books... Give it a try..
Love ya Jennifer!!

By Blogger Brenda, at 4:13 PM  

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Friday, October 06, 2006

I know a Shaman

Just to give you a little more info about moi--and the story I'm currently writing...(exerpt posted yesterday):

I have injun friends. One (Navajo) lives on the Indian reservation in New Mexico. Okay, only six months of the year, so he can keep his rights, get the free medical and whatever. His two kids (adults now) don't live on the res at all. The girl is like a sister to me--which is probably why I haven't spoken to her in ages. Both of my sisters were her bridesmaids and two of my daughters were in her wedding, and I sewed about seven dresses for the event. We actually call her SQUAW. I won't tell ya what she calls my husband. ;)

The point? I know some navajos pretty dang well. So, the story you saw an excerpt of yesterday has some real authenticity to it. (Werewolf notwithstanding)

On top of that, I have a good acquaintance (friend) who is an actual Shaman and goes around the country teaching ceremonies to indians. It is through him that I learned, and experienced a night of the singing vessels. They are little clay jars that have faces and are actually whistles used to call spirits with.

You can see an example of them here:

I also know a couple more injuns. Most of them are connected to tribes up north--in the Dakotas. But last year, when I went to Alaska, I met some Athabaskans--which I had previously known nothing about. I thought all the indians in Alaska were eskimos. But big surprise, I was wrong (again). So, a large part of this new story is based on them.

Here's an interesting know how you see indians with beaded moccasins and sashes and stuff like that? Well, an old athabaskan indian woman was making something of that nature when I met her and she explained that it was what she called "The traditionals, what we give to people in honor of them carrying or serving the dead."

So, a guy that is decked out in a bunch of beaded stuff is considered very special because he has carried the loved ones to the place where their spirits...well, you get the picture.

What does this have to do with sexy romance though?
As you know, I can twist any subject toward a sexual slant. I just want to send you back to re-read yesterday's excerpt and think about the female character...doing that lovemaking in a circle of light, surrounded by crystals, naked in the snow beside a beautiful lake beneath a glacier range that has "crying" waterfalls everywhere.

And picture another very handsome man watching her erotic arching, getting turned on...and snagging her after it's over.

Because that's where the story goes next.

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:56 AM :: 0 Comments:

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Thursday, October 05, 2006

A new wolf tale

I mentioned the other day that I've started a new wolf series. Here's a rough draft of the opening. Tell me what you think.

Near twilight, the werewolf Trevyn trailed through the desert in full lupine form under a three-quarter moon, smelling the smoke billowing from the fire outside the Shaman’s tipi. There was meat cooking, so he followed the scent, and paused at the top of a rock pile not far from the Indian dwelling. Sitting, he watched the Shaman carry wood inside, and come back out to get a stick of fire. Within minutes, smoke surged from the hole atop the buffalo skinned tent.
Rustling came to Trevyn’s keen ears, and because he knew the sounds, he smiled wolfishly. Furs were being spread. The Shaman prepared for a visitor.
Not long after that, the old Indian went to the nearby stream to fill a ceremonial vessel with water. The old man walked slowly, careful not to spill a drop. Each step, he spoke to his invisible gods.
“This is for my wolf brother, who thirsts.”
He took that inside the tipi, then returned to spit the meat over the fire, slice chunks off with his knife, and put it on a platter.
“This is for my wolf brother, who hungers.”
The scent carried and Trevyn salivated. He hadn’t eaten all day. That, too, was taken inside.
Dropping to his belly, the wolf waited as several hours passed. During that time, he heard the old man chant and call to the gods. He also heard the soft sounds of whistling vessels—the god calling wind jars, and the odor of the peace pipe mingled with the smell of mesquite burning. No one came to the Shaman’s tipi. And several times as the night grew darker, and the canopy of stars rose brighter in the sky, Trev thought about howling…just to see if anyone would answer, but he didn’t.
As hunger gnawed at his belly, Trev made up his mind that he would visit the Shaman. Near midnight, a little stiff, he sat up, stretched, and lifted his nose to the air, letting out a howl. The sound of his solitude echoed out over the New Mexico desert. Despite the fact that he’d earlier seen a pack of wolves scouring the landscape for a meal, none answered him—and his self-imposed state of outcast weighed heavily on him.
He wailed two more times before he got up and ventured toward the Shaman tipi, nose to the ground, eyes wary. Outside, he peeked through the open flap. The air inside was thick—not from the fire, whose smoke rose to the hole above, but from the peace pipe the Shaman puffed heavily on.
The moment Trev appeared, the Shaman took the smoke-stick from his lips and said, “I wondered if you would come.”
When he didn’t move, the Indian said, “My wolf brother, come, eat. Accept my gifts.”
Trev didn’t need any more invitation than that. Boldly, he walked in and looked around. The place invited him, as it always did, and the Shaman had laid a thick fur pallet as usual with gifts. Braised beef had cooled on the platter beside the clay bowl filled with the freshly drawn water. And a small package wrapped in fur, tied with a leather string, adorned by an eagle’s feather sat nearby on the edge of the fur.
That pleased Trevyn, and he moved toward it, warily watching the Shaman—but the wiseman never moved a muscle, save his eyes, while the wolf ate the meal. When Trev was done, he sat on his haunches, nosing the gift. Usually, he could smell what it was before opening it, but this time, he was surprised. He narrowed his blue gaze on the Shaman.
In Navajo, he asked “What is this?”
“My wolf brother, this is a gift of vision.”
“I see well enough.” Trevyn’s natural instinct was wariness, and that raised the hackles on his back. He distrusted this because it was a riddle. And more, he found himself terribly curious. “You see more than I can know,” the old Indian said. “But this is magic from the white buffalo. He came to me when you cried on the mountain.”
When he cried on the mountain? Trev had to think about that, but not for long. At the last full moon, he’d run in crinos to the top of the highest peak and howled the whole night through. The mood didn’t strike him often—but that night he’d been terribly lonely. No one had answered him though. In fact, whenever he howled, the rest of the wolves stayed silent. Regular lupus feared him, and other garou like him—the werewolves—stayed far away. Most of them feared him, too.
His temper and lack of self-control had earned him quite a reputation. But, he’d distanced himself, and had learned some discipline. Trev closed his eyes, blocking out the memory of his last “episode of anger.”
“He said you are lonely.”
“I am alone by choice,” Trev whispered firmly, suddenly uncomfortable in his wolf skin.
The Indian puffed on his pipe. Silence stretched, and Trev realized that he was lonely—and that is what had brought him to the Shaman’s tipi. Company, conversation.
“I am honored that you choose to come here.”
Green wood snapped in the fire pit, and Trev allowed himself to shift. His bones popped, and his muscles stretched, and within seconds his shadow grew upon the wall as his crinos form rose up. Through it all, the vision of wolf changing to were-beast, and then to mankind, the Shaman remained silent and motionless, save his pipe sucking, trusting that the wolf god would not eat him, or slash his throat, and before long, Trev shifted through that monstrous phase into his human skin.
Naked, but unembarrassed, Trevyn stood there over the old man—who held out the pipe. Without a word, he took it, and inhaled deeply, glad to feel the relaxing substance float through him. It was good, so Trev sat down and took another draw.
He passed the pipe back to the Indian, and picked up the gift. “From the white buffalo?”
The Indian smiled. “You are not the only god that honors me.”
That made Trev’s lips twist in humor. He didn’t disillusion the old man. Instead, he pulled the feather and tucked it behind his ear, then tugged the string free. The rabbit pelt fell open exposing a small leather pouch. Curious, Trev opened it and sniffed. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. Some sort of tobacco, maybe.
When he looked up, the Shaman smiled toothlessly, passing the pipe again. He gestured for Trevyn to pour the herbal mixture in, then watched him smoke it—refusing to take another turn. As Trev took another huff, the Indian picked up a white woman wind vessel and blew into it in a long, keening flute until he could blow no more. Sucking heavily on air, he did it again and again.
It didn’t take long for the gift to show itself for what it was. The smoke danced in front of Trevyn, taking the shape of a woman. He watched in wonder, transfixed, and the Indian rose, leaving him alone.
Normally, Trevyn was anti-drugs—but this took him unaware. The pipe of relaxation was one thing—and he only smoked when he visited the Shaman—but this, it was an experience he couldn’t have guessed at.
The woman walked from the smoke, her back to him, and went to the doorway. She whispered softly to the Shaman, or the night sky, or something. Trevyn couldn’t quite make out the words. Then, she closed the flap on the tipi.
He took another puff because he needed to ponder this vision. The white buffalo had sent him the vision of a woman. Why?
She glanced over her shoulder, then frowned with confusion. Unlike him, she was fully dressed in a heavy fur parka, leggings and matching boots.
Snowflakes lay on the shoulders of her coat and hood and she peeled that off, shaking her head, freeing long dark hair. A cold wind blew threw the tipi, kicking up the fire, and he shivered with instant goosebumps. She smiled at that.
He appreciated her deep brown eyes, high cheek bones, and full lips. Her skin was pale and white which seemed notable, considering he was on a Navajo reservation—but then, his own skin was a pale tan to that of his Indian brothers.
She didn’t resemble any of the women he knew from the city, either. He racked his brain, but no woman from his past held her peculiar, haunting beauty. He would have remembered that, he felt sure. So, this vision he was having, he concluded, was a fantasy, pure and simple, not based in truth of things he had known before.
“My name is Maya,” she whispered in English, perusing his naked form with interest. He sat Indian style with his legs crossed in front of him. The woman tipped her head, as if to see through the smoke and shadows below his navel—and then smiled shyly at him, ducking her head. “I heard the whistling song.”
A goddess? What foolery was this? He glanced at the pipe in his hand…and took another puff, feeling almost giddy, which was a new thing for him. His heart raced in anticipation—of what, he didn’t know.
“Come, Maya, and sit.”
“Is it hot in here or is it me?” Her voice had a lilting quality that stroked his sensual buttons. His groin tightened in response.
Trevyn watched as her thin fragile fingers undid the front of her coat. Slowly, he swallowed, and the tightening became more pronounced until he recognized it for what it was, arousal. He wondered at that, considering the woman was nothing more than a vision—and still fully dressed.
“No. It’s warm,” he said, as sweat beaded up on his brow. The temperature in the tipi had definitely risen a notch or two.
The parka slipped from her shoulders. “Gaia gives me hope.”
“The white buffalo…” He took another puff from the pipe. “Is generous and honors me with your presence.” He wasn’t sure what to hope for.
What he noted next was the layers of modern clothing she wore. This seemed incongruous with all he had ever experienced in the Shaman’s home.
She moved toward him, dragging a heavy cable knit sweater over her head, revealing a tank top. “We don’t have much time, I think.”
He had all night. He couldn’t wait to see what she took off next.
“Come to me.” She beckoned with a hand out.
“Come to me.” If it was his fantasy, he thought, she would come.
But, she hesitated, confused. Then, she tipped her head upward as if hearing a voice from another realm.
It didn’t talk long, apparently, because she nodded, rubbed her lips together, and asked, “Will you love me?”
“Of course.” It seemed like an easy thing…to invite his vision to give him a wet dream.
Slowly, she crossed the space, skirting the fire, kneeling down beside him. So close, she looked flesh and blood. The fresh odor of crisp, clean, cold air surrounded her—refreshing him. In wonder, he watched her lean close, examining him at less than an inch range. She smelled him, and he felt her breath on his cheek, trailing toward his throat. It was sweet, and if he wasn’t mistaken, smelled a lot like spearmint gum. He distrusted that, and narrowed his gaze. She didn’t seem to notice.
Her fingers took the pipe from him and laid it aside. The movement was so slight, he didn’t even realize it until seconds later; he was so mesmerized. Her breath, lighter than a feather, crossed his lips, and her gaze met his.
“Your eyes are like the lake of tears, the color of clear water.”
He saw pleasure rise in her eyes…as she bent forward to kiss him. They kept their eyes open, and the butterfly touch of lips could have been a breeze, it was so slight. He wanted to reach out to her, but he feared the vision would disappear on him.
“I am very hot here,” she whispered.
“Take your clothes off.” He smiled. “I don’t mind.”
Maya backed away from him, standing up again. As she did so, he put his right hand over his heart—it jerked inside its cavity, and he wondered, briefly, if the white buffalo’s gift had done something to that organ. He certainly heard the blood rushing through his system, faster than it ever had before. Considering he was a crinosing garou with a bad temper…the fact seemed startling. Could he have a heart attack from this?
No. The Shaman would not kill his wolf brother, the demi-god who visited him and talked about the cosmos, and psychology of man.
She yanked her shirt over her head, exposing bulbous breasts—also pale, except for the darkened areolas that circled her puckered nipples that stood up at the exposure, and he re-thought the heart attack idea. Maybe he would have one.
Never had he envisioned an angel so perfect, so confident, so…in a hurry to undress. Her gaze followed his to her chest, and she looked down upon herself, smiling like a seductress, and cupped the orbs, one in each hand.
Trev resisted the urge to extend his fingers toward them. The image burned itself in his brain. The smoky haze added to the ethereal picture.
When her fingers dropped to the closure on her pants, undoing the buttons, he salivated—and gulped. Without hesitation, she slipped the leggings over her hips, exposing herself. She wore no under garments, and so a dark thatch of hair greeted him, drawing his attention in a heartbeat. Not that he had much time to enjoy the view before she sat on the fur beside him, and pulled her boots off, and the pants, too.
Never had he experienced a dream like this. He had to ask, “Are you in a hurry?”
“Yes,” she gasped, tossing her things aside.
“Because I will freeze if…” She rolled to her knees, facing him.
“If what?”
“It doesn’t matter. I would rather die of frostbite than stop now.”
He blinked. “You’d rather die than—what?”
Maya asked rather desperately, “Would you make love to me?”
She didn’t wait for a response. She took his hand in hers and drew it to her breast, squeezing, closing her eyes. “Gaia, that feels good. Your hands are hot.”
Her skin was cold, but he liked the feel of her breast.
“Hold me,” she begged, so he put his other hand on the other one.
The girl felt real, and at that range, he saw that she was not as young as he first thought. Perhaps in her early twenties. Not much younger than he was.
The moment his second hand touched her, she arched, gasping. “Gaia. This is all I ever wanted.”
The fingers of her other hand closed over his, too, squeezing more, insisting his hold become carnal, vulgar even. His cock throbbed at her insistence. And, of their own volition, his thumbs and forefingers shifted. He forced himself to breathe, relax, and let himself fondle her nipples. She moaned, and let go. Her hands slid up his arms to his shoulders, and she rose up.
Trevyn found her breasts in his face and he buried his nose there. Could a vision become any more erotic or real? He closed his eyes and went on feel, and her hands rode up, nails scraping lightly over his deltoids, through his black, collar-length hair, cupping his head against her.
It seemed like the thing to do—to suck first one nipple and then the other, then both at the same time. His breath heated her skin, and he liked that.
What he really wanted to do was lay her back on the fur, though, and untangle himself from the position he was in. So, he lifted his lips, letting them glide upward to her throat. She met him with her mouth, and they kissed. It was a hungry thing, and he plunged his tongue inside her mouth, swallowing another moan.
How could she be so cold? Even her lips were like ice, only melting under the heat of his. His fingers made their way around her body—and again, he noted that she felt near frozen, except for where he held her…which made him draw her closer, wanting to touch her everywhere. His hands roamed, squeezing possessively.
She pulled him as if she was going to lie on her back, but the moment her skin hit the fur behind her, she arched up, squealing into the kiss, and forced him with a push to drag her over him instead. So, she climbed astraddle, kissing him with fervor.
His arousal was complete by the time she detached her lips from his, and asked, “Do you mind?”
“What?” He was mindless at that point.
“If I make love to you…?” She removed the feather from his ear, looked it over, and he took it from her, tucking it behind her ear, kissing her again with both his hands cradling her face.
Instead of talking about it, he let his hands glide over her, down to her hips and helped her settle, riding lower onto his shaft. While her thighs spread, and were chilled, the center of her womanhood truly melted over him, warm and wet, tight and wonderful.
He groaned; she felt so good.
With a firm grip spanning from her waist over her hips, fingertips on her ass, he encouraged her to find the rhythm that worked for both of them, but she had a measure and tempo all her own—and it enflamed his desire, teasing his cock with its arrhythmic gyrations— that worked in cadence with the little noises that escaped her throat, driving him.
“Gaia!” he exclaimed just when he thought he was getting close to exploding.
Maya stopped moving, though, and looked down at him, her fingers firmly spread over his pectoral muscles—which bulged in their definition from his present state of energetic workout.
“Come for me, please.”
She’d stopped, right then? Heaven help him for the sweet torture.
“I’m trying.” His fingers pinched into her skin; all he needed was a few more strokes.
She squirmed above him in opposite rhythm to what he needed, not allowing him the depth of thrust he wanted—but she reached her climax that way, and as she let loose with a cry, he managed to roll her and pump into her. One. Two. Three. In as deep as he could go, balls slapping against her body….
He kissed her, covering the last strains of her orgasmic release, fucking into her with hard, driving plunges. His jism pulsed into her in spurts that made him jerk roughly, but he held on, and so did she. Her nails dug into his biceps, but he didn’t mind.
Collapsing on top of her, he whispered, “Gaia.”
She drew her knees up, and applied pressure, warming the inside of her thighs against his skin. That made him drag himself up, off of her, to look at her face. Her hair splayed out around them, and he blinked—because it looked there was snow around her, under her head, and flaked in the strands of hair.
Trev’s fingers grazed her cheek, and she was icy to his touch. Suddenly, he realized that she was cold everywhere, except where they were joined. He panicked, rising off of her completely, kneeling between her legs.
Maya reached upward, her fingers trailing over his chest as she smiled with the languid look of satiation. “Thank you, brother wolf.”
Like the smoke she came from, she disappeared in a wisp. He tried to grab hold of her again, but she was gone. He was left, looking around at the tipi, seeing nothing but the smoke from the dying fire. The pipe had gone cold.
Clutching the small pouch, he shifted to crinos, angry that she’d disappeared so swiftly. With a roaring, he bounded out of the tipi, taking the Shaman by surprise. The old Indian jumped from his squatting sleep, drawing his hands in front of his face.
Trevyn didn’t stop, though. At his fastest pace, he ran away. It wasn’t until he was in his own place that he stopped to think. But there was no sense to make of the vision. Hours, he meditated on it…until he fell asleep—where he relived the whole thing again.
In the morning, he awoke with the pouch still in his hand and the crust of sex unwashed upon his manhood. And he wondered, What was that all about?

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 6:45 AM :: 2 Comments:

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I like this quite a lot. It's very engaging. :)

By Blogger Jen, at 7:12 PM



By Anonymous Anonymous, at 9:03 PM  

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Wednesday, October 04, 2006


I know I promised you an excerpt but I've had some other NEWS. So, the excerpt will have to wait.

Yesterday, I went to the doctor. Maybe the hundredth doctor in fifteen years. I have a ton of symptoms that haven't changed. Turns out, this doctor had an epiphony and realized that all my symptoms match the ones listed on the fibromyalgia flyer.

So, finally, I have been diagnosed. Sounds good, doesn't it?

Except fibromyalgia is really a term they apply to people with all my symptoms. They haven't actually learned what causes it, what heals it or even how to test for it. But, being diagnosed means I can get muscle relaxers without hassle now.

Symptoms mimic chronic fatigue syndrome--except are worse. Severe body aches and muscle spasms (mostly random), tired, not sleeping well, pinpoint areas where pain and discomfort shoots, ibs, bladder problems...the list goes on but those are the main problems. The real clencher is the tight areas that have spasms. Out of 18, I have them all. It only takes 11 to qualify.

So, the brochure reads like they're describing me. I'm sure he's right.
At least all my whining is not for naught. Finally, it is validated.

Not that they can cure me. But, hell, I can get on methadone if I want.
Sometimes that sounds really good. Ya know?

I just wanna ozone a little and forget their are bills in the world.
Ever feel like that?

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:13 AM :: 4 Comments:

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fibromyalgia: my girl friend has been diagnosed with this. She is soooo tired and has no energy(always telling me this). I haven't seen her in years but I can imagine what it must be like and she keeps saying 'you have fibromyalgia'(I've never asked my doctor).

By Blogger robynl, at 9:08 AM  

Check out the symptoms, Robin. They now believe that 2% of the population has it.

*fatigue (also Chronic Fatigue syndrome)
*sensitivity to pain (muscles, tendons, etc)
*urinary and pelvic problems
*memory loss
*ibs symptoms
*trouble sleeping
*morning stiffness
*pain/spasms in up to 18 specific spots. (Chart on any fibromyalgia website or brochure.)
*TJD (jaw problems)
*chest symptoms
*cold/achy flu symptoms
*light sensitivity
*skin/rash problems
*muscle twitches
*abdominal, pelvic and menstrual pain

And I have pretty much everything on the list. It's crazy that it's taken fifteen years and SO MANY doctors for one to say, "Hey. I think this is it."

An orthopaedic doctor at that.
Kyle Smith, in Springfield, Missouri. Smartest doctor I've been to in ten years (or more.)
In case anyone around here needs to be diagnosed properly. Took him three visits to figure it out. I am wholly impressed.

By Blogger CarysWeldonblog, at 9:34 AM  

Hair loss can be part of it too. It's not near as common as the rest of it, though.

Apparently enough people apply for disability benefits with fibromyalgia as their chief complaint that Social Security has now started including a fibromyalgia tender/trigger point diagram with all their paperwork.

On one hand, I'm sorry you've got it, but at the same time I'm glad you've got at least a partial answer.

One reason why other docs may not have diagnosed it is because a lot of them -- A LOT of them -- don't believe it's an actual condition. They don't quite think it's all in the patient's head, but they think they're dealing with separate issues. Well, that may be, but even with diabetes, you have separate issues that are all related to that one specific condition. Why do they not have the same attitude in relation to fibromyalgia?

(Oops. Didn't mean to go on so long.)

By Blogger Jen, at 3:09 PM  

Wow! I'm sorry to hear that, but that's what might be wrong with me too. I get to sleep in on the weekends sometimes, but I'm tired and groggy every morning no matter what. I was just saying a few minutes ago I don't know why I'm so tired and groggy (but really - it's everyday). I don't sleep well, etc., etc.

I might bring fibromyalgia up at my next doctor's visit, but he'll probably treat it just like my diabetes questions. I'm at very high risk for diabetes and I ask him about it at every visit, but all he ever says is that my lab results look okay. If I ever do get diabetes I'm going to be very angry with my doctor!!

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 6:23 AM  

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Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Erotic Poetry

Are any of you poets? I am an award-winning poet and I've got a soft deal with a publisher (maybe two) to produce a collection (or two) of my erotic poetry. The collection may be combined with other poets in an anthology at one place.

If we get it together, it will likely be released for Valentine's Day.

I have a question for you...there are some samples below. Tell me if you like either one, or if the "more vulgar" one is good for you, or not.


Who can hear between the deafening sound
Of held breaths

Between two people who stare at each other’s lips
Waiting for a single word

Hoping for the tender press of mouth to mouth
To breathe

Who can speak a coherent coo
Between gasps

Waiting to exhale
Hoping to die

Needing a touch, a word
Letting loose a sigh

Who can hear between the deafening sound
Of held breaths

Between two people who stare at each other’s lips
Waiting, waiting

WARNING on this next one--it's crude (but I'm a sicko, I think it's funny.)

Fuck me til I’m sore
Because I am your dirty whore
Fuck me in the butt
Because you like a dirty slut

And I’ll fuck you,
you stupid man
I’ll fuck you too
because I can

in your ass
with a rubber cock
“You like it like that,”
is how I’ll talk

Fuck us both
Because we choose
To fuck each other
To abuse

Fucking foreplay
Is your game
Fuck you, asshole
Is your name

I play it over
In my head
Fuck you, fuck you
Until I’m dead

Let me note that this last one IS NOT a commentary on my personal sex life. LOL
I also have poetry from a man's viewpoint--appreciating a woman. Doesn't mean I was ever a man or that I'm a lesbian.

That's the great thing about being a writer. You can explore views that you don't personally have, but wonder about.

Oh, by the way...I want to apologize...I thought I'd posted yesterday. It must've gotten lost in cyber posting space or something. It was an excerpt. I'll repost it tomorrow.
Until then, TATA.

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 7:38 AM :: 3 Comments:

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The first one, Silence, is to my liking and taste. It is very good.

By Blogger robynl, at 11:04 AM  

lovely poem

By Blogger emme_kitty, at 12:40 PM  

The second one reminds me of one I wrote a while back. Not quite to that level, but close.

Personally, I like the first one better. They're both good, though. :)

By Blogger Jen, at 2:23 PM  

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Sunday, October 01, 2006

Contest Winners

Winner of the blog posting drawing is: Ikkinlala

And the winner of the newsletter contest was: PamK

Starting today, I will be keeping names in a hat for those who post comments on the blog this month--for another drawing to be held at the end of October.

Be sure and read my latest newsletter for information on how to get in the drawing for the newsletter contest.

Posted by CarysWeldonblog :: 2:01 PM :: 3 Comments:

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I got the gift certificate! Thanks!

By Blogger ikkinlala, at 5:27 PM  

*Congratulations* Ikkinlala! Enjoy your prize :)

By Anonymous Anonymous, at 5:24 AM  

congrats to the winners.

By Blogger LISA WILLIAMS, at 8:43 AM  

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