Yowl! Big Kittie Lovers, hang on with your claws and your ferociously gripping jaws. The Kougaress has never heard so many doom and gloom predictions for a new year in all her, paws over your eyes, don't peek, fifty plus years. The perfect storm seems to be coming down the pike. No great surprise if you've kept one prowling eye open, a sniffing nose to the winds o' change and watched the cold icy winds of torment roar over the world plains.
Yowl! The perfect storm! Roaring, smashing, monstrous wind gusts headed our way...and yes, it was a windy cloud-swift day on the winter prairie. Yes, Big Cats, find your caves, the winds and times, they are a-changing. And it's about to turn into a free-for-all.
Yowl and yawn! Lots of yawns. The Kougar is slumber-deprived today, having lived in the new world of editing yesterday and today, where the hunting ground was happy and lush enough, and, yes, challenging enough, until the punch of a storm arrived. The sucker punch. The one out of left field, the one least expected. Actually, it was two shots across the Kougar's jaw. However, one was the frustrating evil gremmies of technology and the Kougar's innocence in the computer world, what can be done and what cannot, and ignorance thereof.
Bam! Wham! And double slam. The computer gremmies are temporarily defeated. However, the fun has been sucked out of the room. For now.
2008, who do we appreciate? Number one. One for all, and all for one. It is the way of One this year. One Spirit? The Kougaress folds her paws in soft and long prayer. For one and all.
Big Beautiful Cats, take a frisky run over to Title Magic for Lexie's first charming enchanted blog.
Below is yowling moi's sleepy comment:
Happy New Year, Lexie! This is my up-way-past-my-bedtime comment. Your stories sound wonderful. I'll look forward to learning more as you go. I'll have to seriously gird my loins over a mean unicorn though. How lovely to be in the backwoods with nature, the fawns and the bears. I think being close to nature is one of the best gifts you can enjoy these days. I think I've gone through about five large yawns now. Signing off.
One Spirit kisses from the Kougar...
Monday, December 31, 2007
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Luscious Sunset Kisses
Another sunset spectacular here on the tame prairie, dear Big Kittie Lovers. More luscious gown shades for the Kougaress, beginning with a pale wintry yellow and descending down to the deep peach blush against the darkening horizon. Yes, the Kougar could live inside a fabric shop since she adores every manner, texture and color of fabric. Insert eager purring here. Yes, fabric is heaven's touch to *bliss-purring* moi.
Indeed, the drapes inside Tara's mansion were just the green infamous velvet waiting to adorn Scarlett O'Hara beauty.
Sidenote: Any of you Big Wonderful Cats remember Carol Burnett's spoof of that scene in Gone With the Wind? When she strolls down the grand curve of stairs, the curtain rod for shoulders. Moi has never laughed and yowled so long and deliciously hard...well, she has, but that is a belly squeezer to remember.
And, speaking of lightness of being, where has it gone? For some of you night owl cats out there, the name Art Bell will need no further explanation. For those of you who aren't familiar with Art and his Coast to Coast radio empire, built amidst the plethora of everything politically ugly...may the Kougaress suggest a prowl through Google?
Yesterday meow-moi listened to a rebroadcast of an early 2001 show on the granite starship, an utterly soul-captivating and enthralling experience unto itself, however, and here's the darn kicker -- whenever the Kougar listens to those earlier radio shows she hears true hope, a lightness of being despite all the woes. Not so now. Darkness prevails over all. The mud of darkness is so thick around us all, my dear Big Cats, we are constantly stained, constantly covered, constantly trying to flick the sticky stuff off our paws. No, there is no avoidance unless your spiritual advancement has reached the clouds and lives in the astral beyond.
Perhaps, we must all light more candles in this world of smothering darkness. And perhaps, that should be our New Year's Eve resolution.
Luscious sunset kisses from the Kougar...
Indeed, the drapes inside Tara's mansion were just the green infamous velvet waiting to adorn Scarlett O'Hara beauty.
Sidenote: Any of you Big Wonderful Cats remember Carol Burnett's spoof of that scene in Gone With the Wind? When she strolls down the grand curve of stairs, the curtain rod for shoulders. Moi has never laughed and yowled so long and deliciously hard...well, she has, but that is a belly squeezer to remember.
And, speaking of lightness of being, where has it gone? For some of you night owl cats out there, the name Art Bell will need no further explanation. For those of you who aren't familiar with Art and his Coast to Coast radio empire, built amidst the plethora of everything politically ugly...may the Kougaress suggest a prowl through Google?
Yesterday meow-moi listened to a rebroadcast of an early 2001 show on the granite starship, an utterly soul-captivating and enthralling experience unto itself, however, and here's the darn kicker -- whenever the Kougar listens to those earlier radio shows she hears true hope, a lightness of being despite all the woes. Not so now. Darkness prevails over all. The mud of darkness is so thick around us all, my dear Big Cats, we are constantly stained, constantly covered, constantly trying to flick the sticky stuff off our paws. No, there is no avoidance unless your spiritual advancement has reached the clouds and lives in the astral beyond.
Perhaps, we must all light more candles in this world of smothering darkness. And perhaps, that should be our New Year's Eve resolution.
Luscious sunset kisses from the Kougar...
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Winter Pink Kisses
Hello, all you Big Beautiful Cats out there. This is going to be a lazy Saturday post *rumble-purr* moi hopes. Since she was up late utilizing her writer skills voraciously. The Kougaress has been particularly enchanted the past two days with the sun's demise on the prairie horizon. Pink, winter's pale soft pink, one of the Kougar's adored shades of pink, has been an immense sweeping band along the serene horizon. Luminous and delicately luscious this pink light, and just above another band of muted purple-blue in a contrast of perfection. Today there was a hint of peach in the frothy pale pink. Yes, a bow before Bast for Earth's never-ending beauty.
O, dear Big Kitties all, were it the Kougar's season of ball gowns and dancing until the chilly stroke of midnight, for most certainly, she would simply demand those excitingly lovely shades of pink be used in the design of her sumptuous silk gowns.
One dares to dream, even knowing the dream shall never be fulfilled during this life walk upon the Mother.
What do you dare dream?
And thus, the dream ends for two more of the American Title finalists on Monday. There shall be only four now competing for the ultimate gazelle-bounding prize. The Kougaress raises a sympathetic bow, she swishes a sympathetic tail for the two who will join her backstage. And she wishes them all the best meowing luck.
Winter pink kisses from the Kougar...
O, dear Big Kitties all, were it the Kougar's season of ball gowns and dancing until the chilly stroke of midnight, for most certainly, she would simply demand those excitingly lovely shades of pink be used in the design of her sumptuous silk gowns.
One dares to dream, even knowing the dream shall never be fulfilled during this life walk upon the Mother.
What do you dare dream?
And thus, the dream ends for two more of the American Title finalists on Monday. There shall be only four now competing for the ultimate gazelle-bounding prize. The Kougaress raises a sympathetic bow, she swishes a sympathetic tail for the two who will join her backstage. And she wishes them all the best meowing luck.
Winter pink kisses from the Kougar...
Friday, December 28, 2007
Sexy Big Cat
Yes, the sexy big cat is sipping on her eggnog-laced hot chocolate, a definite lip-licking favorite of the Kougar's -- all the while trying to erase the sleepies from her brain, and definitely attempting to erase all the silly mundane dreams floating there, like sodden ugly bits of flotsam. One would believe purr-moi should at least be dream-visiting a magical land of high adventures and larger-than-life luxuries.
If the Kougar's dream during this slumber is a reflection of her world, of the world, our world -- well, dear Big Kittie Lovers -- well, no fun at all. The dream itself was one that seemed all too real, as if it was her real life. In fact, when the Kougar finally popped her unwilling little eyes open, she was surprised by her surroundings. A rare, rare occurrence indeed for the Kougaress.
As the Kougar gleams her waking gaze at the overall theme of this *on and on, over and over* dream, the descriptive word she sees is obscurity. Certainly the Kougaress lives an obscure life in many ways. Being obscure in life can be pleasing, even exceptionally useful at times. It can also be excruciatingly difficult and heart lonely.
The Kougaress always thinks of Vincent Van Gogh in this regard, given his tragic and magically obscure life. Magical because he must have lived enchantment with paint brush in hand, even though he wasn't recognized as an artist. Yes, those moments like a magical spell when the words flow and excite and live on the page.
Van Gogh lived in obscurity, by choice and necessity. His amazing-dream paintings also lived in the land obscurity...until now, now they are mostly a treasure to be bought and sold in the land of the ultra rich.
Thus, the Kougar must ponder the question: Would dear spirit-beautiful Vincent have chosen a life of obscurity over his current recognition by the rich? Or would he have chosen to have his paintings become the commodity of the rich? Rather than remain obscure, alone with his glorious rich dreams done in brush strokes?
Big Cats one and all, take a leisurely lope over to Title Magic to feel the Wales magic of Evonne. My catnip goodness, she and her writer's words are a wonderful gift, rather like getting to read theater. Below, of course, is the Kougaress's invaluable comment:
Hi Evonne, sexy big cat here...I couldn't let that pass! Wales! Yay! Do tell about the magic and mysticism. You know, I think you should seriously consider adding a dragon or two to your romantic suspense, if only in human form.
Holli, if anyone can navigate us through the delights and horrors of Fairyland, it's Evonne.
Mel, yep, have mop, will travel for seriously good drooling.
Sexy big cat smooches from the Kougar...
If the Kougar's dream during this slumber is a reflection of her world, of the world, our world -- well, dear Big Kittie Lovers -- well, no fun at all. The dream itself was one that seemed all too real, as if it was her real life. In fact, when the Kougar finally popped her unwilling little eyes open, she was surprised by her surroundings. A rare, rare occurrence indeed for the Kougaress.
As the Kougar gleams her waking gaze at the overall theme of this *on and on, over and over* dream, the descriptive word she sees is obscurity. Certainly the Kougaress lives an obscure life in many ways. Being obscure in life can be pleasing, even exceptionally useful at times. It can also be excruciatingly difficult and heart lonely.
The Kougaress always thinks of Vincent Van Gogh in this regard, given his tragic and magically obscure life. Magical because he must have lived enchantment with paint brush in hand, even though he wasn't recognized as an artist. Yes, those moments like a magical spell when the words flow and excite and live on the page.
Van Gogh lived in obscurity, by choice and necessity. His amazing-dream paintings also lived in the land obscurity...until now, now they are mostly a treasure to be bought and sold in the land of the ultra rich.
Thus, the Kougar must ponder the question: Would dear spirit-beautiful Vincent have chosen a life of obscurity over his current recognition by the rich? Or would he have chosen to have his paintings become the commodity of the rich? Rather than remain obscure, alone with his glorious rich dreams done in brush strokes?
Big Cats one and all, take a leisurely lope over to Title Magic to feel the Wales magic of Evonne. My catnip goodness, she and her writer's words are a wonderful gift, rather like getting to read theater. Below, of course, is the Kougaress's invaluable comment:
Hi Evonne, sexy big cat here...I couldn't let that pass! Wales! Yay! Do tell about the magic and mysticism. You know, I think you should seriously consider adding a dragon or two to your romantic suspense, if only in human form.
Holli, if anyone can navigate us through the delights and horrors of Fairyland, it's Evonne.
Mel, yep, have mop, will travel for seriously good drooling.
Sexy big cat smooches from the Kougar...
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Today, in Shades of Gray
Today, in shades of gray, my Big Beautiful Kitties. The cattle prairie is mild and in shades of gray in it's new winter, just a dust coating of snow beneath leaden and pale gray skies. And the world around the Kougar is gray and weary. Despite all the plasma big bright ostentatious TVs, as artificial looking to the Kougaress as the first artificial christmas trees, the ones stored with bulbs attached.
Do you not feel it, my lovely Big Cats. The world is weary. Our world is weary. The Kougar observes it everywhere she goes these days. Even the daily 'breaking news' is weary with the same ever-increasing bad news, the rote of mindless and endless fear stories. Yes, the so-called news, also depressingly weary with glamor gone bad stories. Unceasing in it's efforts to bring us Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan...whoever the latest poor-little-rich 'bad' girl is these days, these weary gray-spinning days.
The Kougar might ask, where is our world, our precious spinning planet world -- where is our world not weary? Perhaps upon the faces of the young ones, the children, the frolicking cubs. Perhaps there is no weariness upon the faces of the Angelic Ones, those here to help us and love us. Perhaps...
What is the answer to our world's weariness. The Kougaress deeply believes the answer is a renaissance. Indeed, my wonderful Big Cats, a renaissance at every level of society, at every level of our souls and spirits.
Let us bring it forth.
For a fascinating and well-explained insight into what 'words' mean to us writers, cozy on over to Title Magic for Anitra's blog.
You just whisker-yawning, a yawn of satisfaction, know the Kougar's particularly brilliant comments are featured below:
Hey Anitra, I'm in the same love boat with words -- in love with 'em. I wish readers and publishers were more on the Bard's side when it comes to word usage. I do that and people go nutso, screaming with red ink ensues. But, that's okay. Tanj, that's good! I might have to 'borrow' that, unless it's against some code or law I'm not aware of. I've certainly made up words for my all my otherworld novels, cuss words among them. Words make up a culture, and the culture makes up the words. Just like hussy for housewife transformed into a negative use and is now returning to a more positive usage, the Hussies Romance Writers, and they're definitely proud of it!
Mel, that's a good idea about exploring the dark moment or black moment in books, especially romances. Being a happy-ever-after girl myself, and yeah, I can't do the endless angst thing either -- the dark moment could make the ending so much more brighter. It may be that if that moment is truly organic to the story instead of a plot contrivance, that could be the difference. Then again, I think people miss the magic of living sometimes if they depend on a black moment for a happy ending???
Happy reading kisses from the Kougar...
Do you not feel it, my lovely Big Cats. The world is weary. Our world is weary. The Kougar observes it everywhere she goes these days. Even the daily 'breaking news' is weary with the same ever-increasing bad news, the rote of mindless and endless fear stories. Yes, the so-called news, also depressingly weary with glamor gone bad stories. Unceasing in it's efforts to bring us Paris Hilton, Lindsey Lohan...whoever the latest poor-little-rich 'bad' girl is these days, these weary gray-spinning days.
The Kougar might ask, where is our world, our precious spinning planet world -- where is our world not weary? Perhaps upon the faces of the young ones, the children, the frolicking cubs. Perhaps there is no weariness upon the faces of the Angelic Ones, those here to help us and love us. Perhaps...
What is the answer to our world's weariness. The Kougaress deeply believes the answer is a renaissance. Indeed, my wonderful Big Cats, a renaissance at every level of society, at every level of our souls and spirits.
Let us bring it forth.
For a fascinating and well-explained insight into what 'words' mean to us writers, cozy on over to Title Magic for Anitra's blog.
You just whisker-yawning, a yawn of satisfaction, know the Kougar's particularly brilliant comments are featured below:
Hey Anitra, I'm in the same love boat with words -- in love with 'em. I wish readers and publishers were more on the Bard's side when it comes to word usage. I do that and people go nutso, screaming with red ink ensues. But, that's okay. Tanj, that's good! I might have to 'borrow' that, unless it's against some code or law I'm not aware of. I've certainly made up words for my all my otherworld novels, cuss words among them. Words make up a culture, and the culture makes up the words. Just like hussy for housewife transformed into a negative use and is now returning to a more positive usage, the Hussies Romance Writers, and they're definitely proud of it!
Mel, that's a good idea about exploring the dark moment or black moment in books, especially romances. Being a happy-ever-after girl myself, and yeah, I can't do the endless angst thing either -- the dark moment could make the ending so much more brighter. It may be that if that moment is truly organic to the story instead of a plot contrivance, that could be the difference. Then again, I think people miss the magic of living sometimes if they depend on a black moment for a happy ending???
Happy reading kisses from the Kougar...
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Kissed by Fire and Water
The day before yesterday the nearly full moon hung over the western horizon. She hung in the new morning's blue light, dressed as an ethereal and magical goddess. She appeared nearly transparent, an illusion to the eye...nevertheless, the illusion was soul-stoppingly beautiful, yes, Big Kittie Lovers, a beauty to inhale inside your soul.
The night before last night, Lunabelle, as the Kougar has been calling her...Lunabelle hung above the eastern black sky with the planet, Mars, as her companion. She was dressed in bright luminous white, an amazing purity, a beauty to tempt the eye and soul. Mars sparkled like a huge diamond, yet with far more beauty.
What does it mean, Big Cats, the Moon and Mars in a celestial dance of some exquisite and divine order? The ferocity and fire of the Mars God dances with the serenity and watery tidal moods of the Moon Goddess? Fire and water, serenity and ferocity. Balance or outright chaos, do they dance the sweet elegance of a cotillion? Do they dance the blazing wild elation of flappers in a speakeasy? Maybe both in our world, in the expressions our world takes on now. Fiery explosions and water disasters? upon the Mother. In our individual lives?
Kissed by fire and water, yang and yin, their dance. Perhaps that is the forecast for our new year...perhaps?
Hey, Big Kitties, romp on over to Title Magic. Holli's blog on unwrapping and unwinding is not to be missed.
Below is the Kougar's comment:
Hi Holli, what a wonderful analogy, the romance of Christmas, the holiday season as compared to the arc of a romance story. Personally I avoid the dark moments as much as possible now when writing, a lot of reasons. One being my personal life experiences. The other, to be honest, the dark moments just got to be too much in the romance novels I was reading. Does anyone else feel that way? Or do you all luv the dark moment? What I like about this time of year, is that it seems like its a breath between the old year and new year. A time to take in a big breath, a time to step back, take in the breaths of just living and look at what happened last year, then prepare for the new. New Year blessings to All.
Moon kisses from the Kougar...
The night before last night, Lunabelle, as the Kougar has been calling her...Lunabelle hung above the eastern black sky with the planet, Mars, as her companion. She was dressed in bright luminous white, an amazing purity, a beauty to tempt the eye and soul. Mars sparkled like a huge diamond, yet with far more beauty.
What does it mean, Big Cats, the Moon and Mars in a celestial dance of some exquisite and divine order? The ferocity and fire of the Mars God dances with the serenity and watery tidal moods of the Moon Goddess? Fire and water, serenity and ferocity. Balance or outright chaos, do they dance the sweet elegance of a cotillion? Do they dance the blazing wild elation of flappers in a speakeasy? Maybe both in our world, in the expressions our world takes on now. Fiery explosions and water disasters? upon the Mother. In our individual lives?
Kissed by fire and water, yang and yin, their dance. Perhaps that is the forecast for our new year...perhaps?
Hey, Big Kitties, romp on over to Title Magic. Holli's blog on unwrapping and unwinding is not to be missed.
Below is the Kougar's comment:
Hi Holli, what a wonderful analogy, the romance of Christmas, the holiday season as compared to the arc of a romance story. Personally I avoid the dark moments as much as possible now when writing, a lot of reasons. One being my personal life experiences. The other, to be honest, the dark moments just got to be too much in the romance novels I was reading. Does anyone else feel that way? Or do you all luv the dark moment? What I like about this time of year, is that it seems like its a breath between the old year and new year. A time to take in a big breath, a time to step back, take in the breaths of just living and look at what happened last year, then prepare for the new. New Year blessings to All.
Moon kisses from the Kougar...
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Sparkles, the Christmas Fairy
One of those happy little magic happenings, rumbling-purr moi has acquired a new, for now, invisible friend. Yes, Sparkles the Christmas Fairy -- born from the imaginative use of language, Mel of Title Magic being the Sourceress -- and born from where all fairies are born, the enchanted realms surroundings us. No, so sorry to claw-scraping disappoint. No, not born in a cabbage patch like the infamous and mostly adored cabbage patch dolls (mere fang prey for the Kougar) of Christmas years past, unless you just enjoy the cabbage patch birth in the realm of your imagination. Then, do enjoy. Beneath each cabbage leaf a new fairy is born.
Yes, dear Big Cats All, the enchanted realms once seen by our ancestors and now seen by those with the Sight. As Doreen Virtue, acclaimed and beloved Angel Reader says, fairies are angels with egos. Fairies protect and love every plant, every blade of grass. Fairies watch over and take care of the animals. Fairies, if they are fond of us, will help us, if we walk well upon Mother Earth, if we are good to her flora and fauna.
The Kougaress adores fairies, Tinkerbelle being her first. She paw-clapped hard and she wishes she had the Sight, only occasionally seeing the fairies as orbs, golden ethereal orbs or white light orbs. Since cubhood she has believed in their magic, more as a fizzy spinning feeling of euphoria, and with her internal awareness, despite the claims of the rational world culture, the jungle of vast cement, the cage of synthetic buildings we live in and among -- the worn-out culture with no answers anymore, which is dissolving as fast as the Arctic glaciers.
Yes, the world, our world, it is a-changing, becoming a rolling growing snowball of change that can't be stopped. Wouldn't it be nice and splendid and enthralling to have fairies again? As part of our world once again?
The Kougaress thinks so, hopes so...for she would adore feeling and seeing and hearing and touching their magic as it lives on the Mother, and makes the sacred Mother Earth a more resplendent Being. For us all.
Dear Big Kittie Lovers, slowly saunter on over to Title Magic for a Christmas day blog we can all relate to, written by the magically incomparable Mel.
Below is just-waking-up, a yawn or two, moi's comment:
Mel, Sparkles the Christmas Fairy, who wouldn't leave after Christmas, has demanded equal time with both of us. She'll be glad to show up wherever and however we want. Maybe she needs to be our Title Magic mascot?
Christmas fairy kisses from the Kougar...
Yes, dear Big Cats All, the enchanted realms once seen by our ancestors and now seen by those with the Sight. As Doreen Virtue, acclaimed and beloved Angel Reader says, fairies are angels with egos. Fairies protect and love every plant, every blade of grass. Fairies watch over and take care of the animals. Fairies, if they are fond of us, will help us, if we walk well upon Mother Earth, if we are good to her flora and fauna.
The Kougaress adores fairies, Tinkerbelle being her first. She paw-clapped hard and she wishes she had the Sight, only occasionally seeing the fairies as orbs, golden ethereal orbs or white light orbs. Since cubhood she has believed in their magic, more as a fizzy spinning feeling of euphoria, and with her internal awareness, despite the claims of the rational world culture, the jungle of vast cement, the cage of synthetic buildings we live in and among -- the worn-out culture with no answers anymore, which is dissolving as fast as the Arctic glaciers.
Yes, the world, our world, it is a-changing, becoming a rolling growing snowball of change that can't be stopped. Wouldn't it be nice and splendid and enthralling to have fairies again? As part of our world once again?
The Kougaress thinks so, hopes so...for she would adore feeling and seeing and hearing and touching their magic as it lives on the Mother, and makes the sacred Mother Earth a more resplendent Being. For us all.
Dear Big Kittie Lovers, slowly saunter on over to Title Magic for a Christmas day blog we can all relate to, written by the magically incomparable Mel.
Below is just-waking-up, a yawn or two, moi's comment:
Mel, Sparkles the Christmas Fairy, who wouldn't leave after Christmas, has demanded equal time with both of us. She'll be glad to show up wherever and however we want. Maybe she needs to be our Title Magic mascot?
Christmas fairy kisses from the Kougar...
Monday, December 24, 2007
Christmas Eve Kiss
Curl up by the fireplace with the softly crackling flames, creamy egg nog at the ready, dear Big Kittie Lovers. Santa is on his merry journey, gifts for all of us good kitties in his magic always-filled bag. Rudolph lights the way through fog or snowstorm with his beacon red nose. Yes, the big night of Winter Solstice has arrived, the night of all divine, the time of all Good Angels is here. Whether you're the cat who loves to pounce at Santa's legs or if you merely keep watch and squinch open one eye to glimpse Santa's arrival, all is to be enjoyed on this night of many miracles and wonders.
Hence, I will share a little story written for Title Magic, *smiling purr* moi's very first blog:
The magic of Christmas Eve, it’s a natural. Whether you envision the three Wisemen, or Magi, bearing their precious gifts of frankincense, myrrh and gold to the newborn savior. Or if you, when you’re my advanced boomer age, remember what it was like to believe in Santa Clause. Yes, the lovely simple dreaming magic of believing in the jolly guy strangely dressed in the red eskimo suit, his giant bag of gift goodies slung over his back. Only for all of us good girls and boys. I remember the excited smiles of all the other kids, especially my sisters and brothers.
Having studied the realm of herbs, and of essential oils, the Magi’s gifts of frankincense and myrrh were not only sacred and considered to be magically protective, these potent resins were also used in many healing applications. As to the gift of gold, yes valuable as we would consider gold today, however the frequency or vibration of gold is powerful, an enhancement of spiritual abilities. Do we need to mention the alchemist’s eternal quest to turn lead into gold, as another clue to our mystical heritage? Does it simply mean transforming our baser natures to the elevated frequency of gold, or elevating to our golden angel natures?
Ahhh, my good title magicians, that was not my original topic. Alas, it was on the realm of lucid dreaming and the incredible magic of Christmas eve. Lucid dreaming was first mentioned on our ATIV loop by Anitra. While I don’t have her advanced ability to lucid dream, I occasionally have a real doozy, some of them spectacularly good (my very own beautiful white Pegasus once), and some in the category of a Boris Karloff nightmare. However, good readers all, let me write the tale as I remember it.
Tiny, before kindergarten age, I had no idea what Christmas was all about, only that there were yummy new things to eat and it caused lots of excitement, especially my parents who put up the real fragrant-special tree and eagerly talked about Santa Clause. My dad’s blue eyes glowed with a happiness I will always treasure and remember that night before Christmas. Well, it was just me and my younger sister then, sitting with my dad while he, dramatic as a poet actor, read Twas the night before Christmas to us. My teensy imagination lit up like the bulbs on the tree, before lightbulbs twinkled, when you had to figure out which one had gone bad on the string and replace it before the tree would be bright with colored light again.
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen! Those immortal words are what I remembered most about the poem that christmas eve night. Santa Claus and his reindeer, the magnificent reindeer...More rapid than eagles his coursers they came...in my imagination I could see them flying through the night sky, the snowflakes whirling ‘round them. They looked magical, these elegant beasts with branch-like antlers. And I felt magical, light as air, all tingly fizzy inside.
I swear that poem danced in my head as we set out the hot chocolate and cookies for Santa. My eyes were filled with twinkling stars while my dad assured us that Santa would somehow make it down the chimney we didn’t have in our GI bill ranch house. I still remember heading off to bed bouncing on my tippy toes. Kissed goodnight and tucked in, I imagined Santa in his miniature sleigh with his eight tiny reindeer flying toward us, much better than dreaming about sugar plums. And soon I heard them...the pawing and prancing of each little hoof...on my very own rooftop. Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! Santa called to his reindeer team. I heard it plain as day. It was so real, their hooves on my roof, I woke up to the loud jingling of sleigh bells, like the ones you hear on the horse harnesses as they pull the sleigh over the snow to grandma’s house. Springing out of bed, I ran outside to a beautiful white blanket of snow, so cold on my bare feet. Santa had landed on my roof. He waved, stepping out of the old-fashioned handsomely-carved sleigh. Prancing spiritedly on that new fallen snow were Santa’s life-size reindeer decorated in the red leather finery of their harnesses. They were exquisite creatures, their fragile-looking legs, their thick brown coats glistening with snowflakes, the drifting flakes falling from the black heavens. Their faces were noble, their eyes large and brilliant as they looked down at me. I remember being entranced by the regal tangle of their antlers. And I wondered what it would be like to ride on one of their backs as they soared through night. Santa shouted down to me, a jolly voice reminding me he couldn’t deliver his gifts until I was back in bed.
The next morning when I dashed outside to see my dad, who was fiddling with the outdoor lights, I was surprised to see no blanket of snow, only short brown grass. But I simply ignored that tiny detail and exuberantly told my dad I knew Santa was real because I had seen him last night. Despite my dad’s rather puzzled expression I went on to tell him about hearing the prancing hooves on the roof, about running outside and seeing Santa and all his reindeer. I think he tried to tell me it was a dream. But I was so insistent in all my glorious detail, he ended up nodding and smiling. And not spoiling anything for me. Thank you, Dad.
And no one, not any playground gossiper or any kid’s cruel attempt to spoil Christmas for me, could ever convince me Santa wasn’t real. After all, I had seen Santa and his sleigh full of toys, and his reindeer...oh, his majestic reindeer too. In fact, I may have turned a few kids back to the magic of Christmas simply because I believed. I truly believed. Until, okay, seventh grade. Laugh if you want. That’s okay. I had a Christmas spirit then, that I still treasure to this day. It was magic. It was pure magic instilled into me for a lifetime.
That lucid dream was absolutely real to me, as real as anything I have ever experienced since. That enchanted dream still feels as if I lived it, and remains as vivid inside my mind as any memory.
As I write this, my fellow life magicians, I realize like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash - realize, I hope my stories are as movie-screen vivid, as magical and magnificently real as my Santa lucid dream, for everyone who chooses to read my otherworldly novels.
A special thanks to Anna Campbell for being our first guest blogger. Don’t you just luv that delish romance-splendid cover. Her inspiration and her writing is a gift to us all.
To my Title Magic buddies, thanks for getting the blog ball rolling. Okay, I’m seeing the traditional typical bright shiny red ornament rolling, rolling...my imagination never gives up, I swear.
Thanks, Santa!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a the down of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863)
Hence, I will share a little story written for Title Magic, *smiling purr* moi's very first blog:
The magic of Christmas Eve, it’s a natural. Whether you envision the three Wisemen, or Magi, bearing their precious gifts of frankincense, myrrh and gold to the newborn savior. Or if you, when you’re my advanced boomer age, remember what it was like to believe in Santa Clause. Yes, the lovely simple dreaming magic of believing in the jolly guy strangely dressed in the red eskimo suit, his giant bag of gift goodies slung over his back. Only for all of us good girls and boys. I remember the excited smiles of all the other kids, especially my sisters and brothers.
Having studied the realm of herbs, and of essential oils, the Magi’s gifts of frankincense and myrrh were not only sacred and considered to be magically protective, these potent resins were also used in many healing applications. As to the gift of gold, yes valuable as we would consider gold today, however the frequency or vibration of gold is powerful, an enhancement of spiritual abilities. Do we need to mention the alchemist’s eternal quest to turn lead into gold, as another clue to our mystical heritage? Does it simply mean transforming our baser natures to the elevated frequency of gold, or elevating to our golden angel natures?
Ahhh, my good title magicians, that was not my original topic. Alas, it was on the realm of lucid dreaming and the incredible magic of Christmas eve. Lucid dreaming was first mentioned on our ATIV loop by Anitra. While I don’t have her advanced ability to lucid dream, I occasionally have a real doozy, some of them spectacularly good (my very own beautiful white Pegasus once), and some in the category of a Boris Karloff nightmare. However, good readers all, let me write the tale as I remember it.
Tiny, before kindergarten age, I had no idea what Christmas was all about, only that there were yummy new things to eat and it caused lots of excitement, especially my parents who put up the real fragrant-special tree and eagerly talked about Santa Clause. My dad’s blue eyes glowed with a happiness I will always treasure and remember that night before Christmas. Well, it was just me and my younger sister then, sitting with my dad while he, dramatic as a poet actor, read Twas the night before Christmas to us. My teensy imagination lit up like the bulbs on the tree, before lightbulbs twinkled, when you had to figure out which one had gone bad on the string and replace it before the tree would be bright with colored light again.
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen! Those immortal words are what I remembered most about the poem that christmas eve night. Santa Claus and his reindeer, the magnificent reindeer...More rapid than eagles his coursers they came...in my imagination I could see them flying through the night sky, the snowflakes whirling ‘round them. They looked magical, these elegant beasts with branch-like antlers. And I felt magical, light as air, all tingly fizzy inside.
I swear that poem danced in my head as we set out the hot chocolate and cookies for Santa. My eyes were filled with twinkling stars while my dad assured us that Santa would somehow make it down the chimney we didn’t have in our GI bill ranch house. I still remember heading off to bed bouncing on my tippy toes. Kissed goodnight and tucked in, I imagined Santa in his miniature sleigh with his eight tiny reindeer flying toward us, much better than dreaming about sugar plums. And soon I heard them...the pawing and prancing of each little hoof...on my very own rooftop. Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! Santa called to his reindeer team. I heard it plain as day. It was so real, their hooves on my roof, I woke up to the loud jingling of sleigh bells, like the ones you hear on the horse harnesses as they pull the sleigh over the snow to grandma’s house. Springing out of bed, I ran outside to a beautiful white blanket of snow, so cold on my bare feet. Santa had landed on my roof. He waved, stepping out of the old-fashioned handsomely-carved sleigh. Prancing spiritedly on that new fallen snow were Santa’s life-size reindeer decorated in the red leather finery of their harnesses. They were exquisite creatures, their fragile-looking legs, their thick brown coats glistening with snowflakes, the drifting flakes falling from the black heavens. Their faces were noble, their eyes large and brilliant as they looked down at me. I remember being entranced by the regal tangle of their antlers. And I wondered what it would be like to ride on one of their backs as they soared through night. Santa shouted down to me, a jolly voice reminding me he couldn’t deliver his gifts until I was back in bed.
The next morning when I dashed outside to see my dad, who was fiddling with the outdoor lights, I was surprised to see no blanket of snow, only short brown grass. But I simply ignored that tiny detail and exuberantly told my dad I knew Santa was real because I had seen him last night. Despite my dad’s rather puzzled expression I went on to tell him about hearing the prancing hooves on the roof, about running outside and seeing Santa and all his reindeer. I think he tried to tell me it was a dream. But I was so insistent in all my glorious detail, he ended up nodding and smiling. And not spoiling anything for me. Thank you, Dad.
And no one, not any playground gossiper or any kid’s cruel attempt to spoil Christmas for me, could ever convince me Santa wasn’t real. After all, I had seen Santa and his sleigh full of toys, and his reindeer...oh, his majestic reindeer too. In fact, I may have turned a few kids back to the magic of Christmas simply because I believed. I truly believed. Until, okay, seventh grade. Laugh if you want. That’s okay. I had a Christmas spirit then, that I still treasure to this day. It was magic. It was pure magic instilled into me for a lifetime.
That lucid dream was absolutely real to me, as real as anything I have ever experienced since. That enchanted dream still feels as if I lived it, and remains as vivid inside my mind as any memory.
As I write this, my fellow life magicians, I realize like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw up the sash - realize, I hope my stories are as movie-screen vivid, as magical and magnificently real as my Santa lucid dream, for everyone who chooses to read my otherworldly novels.
A special thanks to Anna Campbell for being our first guest blogger. Don’t you just luv that delish romance-splendid cover. Her inspiration and her writing is a gift to us all.
To my Title Magic buddies, thanks for getting the blog ball rolling. Okay, I’m seeing the traditional typical bright shiny red ornament rolling, rolling...my imagination never gives up, I swear.
Thanks, Santa!
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like a the down of a thistle,
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863)
Christmas Eve kisses from the Kougar...
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Kisses to John Lennon
As the Kougar walks her life's journey upon the Mother, she finds herself in another untenable position, especially in the realm of emotions. This is a constant for the Kougaress. However, last night on Coast to Coast with Ian Punnett, a most remarkable man shared his life experiences. He spoke eloquently and with rough deep realism about John Lennon, about their friendship. He first met John as a student at the Liverpool Art school during the not-the-Walrus's artisitic coming of age. For those of you who don't know or don't remember, John Lennon, Give Peace a Chance John Lennon was one of the Beatles. Remember now? the Fab Four, the musical invasion from Britain. The Mop Tops. That was the Kougar's generation, when she came of age from her cubhood.
As the Kougar listened, reminiscing like a claw-crazed, bouncing-off-the-walls cat, and spellbound with a fervent fascination for what had been, for what she knew, for what she didn't -- the Kougaress often lamented her choice to go for longevity in this world, instead of living a more wildcat life. For it was a choice consciously made at the time. Driven by, perhaps, an over-idealistic belief the future was there to be created in a beautiful incredible way never before seen, where all of us could flourish and nourish each other in freedom, real freedom where peace had a chance. Flower power, dear Big Kitties all. Yes, it was once real. Once possible. Once.
And the dreams...the dreams, they die hard. Dreams of the soul, they die even harder. Dreams...well, dreams of the heart may never die...but they are buried alive. Often buried alive, dear Big Cats, who walk and paw-dance this world with your good beating hearts and your precious bright souls.
Dreams...dreams are often buried alive because what was once possible has been lost to an opportunity, an opportunity for an Age. The sign of that loss, the loss of the Flower Power Age, the death of John Lennon, not by the hand of his cruelly-used assassin, but by Who pulled the pathetic assassin's puppet strings. And that I shall leave to your walk upon our most beloved realm, the blue marble planet, Earth.
Flower Power kiss from the Kougar...
As the Kougar listened, reminiscing like a claw-crazed, bouncing-off-the-walls cat, and spellbound with a fervent fascination for what had been, for what she knew, for what she didn't -- the Kougaress often lamented her choice to go for longevity in this world, instead of living a more wildcat life. For it was a choice consciously made at the time. Driven by, perhaps, an over-idealistic belief the future was there to be created in a beautiful incredible way never before seen, where all of us could flourish and nourish each other in freedom, real freedom where peace had a chance. Flower power, dear Big Kitties all. Yes, it was once real. Once possible. Once.
And the dreams...the dreams, they die hard. Dreams of the soul, they die even harder. Dreams...well, dreams of the heart may never die...but they are buried alive. Often buried alive, dear Big Cats, who walk and paw-dance this world with your good beating hearts and your precious bright souls.
Dreams...dreams are often buried alive because what was once possible has been lost to an opportunity, an opportunity for an Age. The sign of that loss, the loss of the Flower Power Age, the death of John Lennon, not by the hand of his cruelly-used assassin, but by Who pulled the pathetic assassin's puppet strings. And that I shall leave to your walk upon our most beloved realm, the blue marble planet, Earth.
Flower Power kiss from the Kougar...
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Atlantis Sinks, Atlantis Rises
Yowl! Big Kittie Lovers, great, powerful and strange changes are on the event horizon. Probably for most us. The planets, sun and moon are aligning with the Great Milk galactic center, opening up possibilities never seen before and revealing what has remained unseen for centuries. In rumbling grumbling truth, the Kougar wonders if she should peek into her crystal ball, into the revealing mystic waters. Or is ignorance bliss in this x-files case? Do certain elements of sci fi and fantasy now join us as our common reality? What new truth supersedes what has been truth? Or, the learned truth of kindergarten superseded by the learned truth of PhD graduate studies.
Remember, darling kitties, we are brave enough to gather our future to us. It will be a far different future than has been imagined by most of us. Think the catastrophic sinking of Atlantis and the renaissance rising of Atlantis, both at once, so joined at the proverbial feline-sleek hip. The old established land sinks and the new horizon land rises simultaneously. Those who paw-cling to the established will sink. Those who wisely stride toward the new horizon, will be born anew, and be born free. At least, eventually.
From the ice-rain prairies, with the winds whipping, and the electricity threatening to cut out, remember, the Kougar is with you, all my beloved Big Cats, in Spirit. In the communing hearts of us all, joined to one another. Let us truly love one another in our walk upon the Mother, our cat and human journey beneath Father sky. For love will see us through.
Gardenia, New Atlantis kisses from the Kougar...
Remember, darling kitties, we are brave enough to gather our future to us. It will be a far different future than has been imagined by most of us. Think the catastrophic sinking of Atlantis and the renaissance rising of Atlantis, both at once, so joined at the proverbial feline-sleek hip. The old established land sinks and the new horizon land rises simultaneously. Those who paw-cling to the established will sink. Those who wisely stride toward the new horizon, will be born anew, and be born free. At least, eventually.
From the ice-rain prairies, with the winds whipping, and the electricity threatening to cut out, remember, the Kougar is with you, all my beloved Big Cats, in Spirit. In the communing hearts of us all, joined to one another. Let us truly love one another in our walk upon the Mother, our cat and human journey beneath Father sky. For love will see us through.
Gardenia, New Atlantis kisses from the Kougar...
Friday, December 21, 2007
Holiday Hugs to Anna, Australian Romance Author
Holiday Big Kitties (in smaller domestic form), are you tangled in strings of sparkling lights? Your personal let's-be-merry imitation of a fun ball of yarn? Is that bright red ornament out of your clawing reach, or has it crashed to the floor, your prey now a triumph of tiny metallic pieces. Have you managed to victoriously topple that out-of-place tree while righteously launching yourself toward all the winged creatures, especially the one top. After all, aren't all angels supposed to be Cats? And those silly stars, glittering like the eyes of a yummy warm-blooded meal, well, who can resist that planning crouch, the fierce leap and final paw grab? And aren't all stars just heaven's beloved Cats shining their light benevolently upon the tiny Earth?
Yes, it's a Merry Catmas, a time for lavish use of claws and fangs, yes, a time to rip and shred the package wrappings into environmentally friendly scraps. Mother Earth must be served, after all, you smiling, tail swishing say, while sitting contentedly before the christmas red, but not merry face of your human.
Hey, Big Beautiful Cats, stroll on over to Title Magic for a wonderful and inspiring blog by Anna Campbell, a romance author from down under, Australia, where *loudly purring moi* would luv to prowling visit one day, when accidentally ending up on a terrorist list is a thing of the past. One of the most exciting meows about Anna's blog is the inside, behind-the-scenes look at what writers endure, how we, and she, persevere for our sacred calling.
Below is *smiling purr* moi's comment:
Hi Anna, your contest experiences and life experiences toward becoming published, are truly inspiring. Contests as I look back are like the first line of my wip -- curses or in this case, contests were strange beasts of irony, at least, as I've experienced them. I spent one year, 1999, doing nothing but entering every romantic chapter contest I could. The result, other than the absolutely fascinating and useful critiques, was a first place, a second place and a third place, all different stories. One thing I definitely gained was a new level of discipline, and a much better understanding of what was commercial and what was not in the world of romance writing. One judge so luved my entry she wrote me several personal gushing pages. I cried and cried. That same entry got one 'ten' in the Golden Heart that year, the highest at the time. Although, I absolutely love this novel, it may never see the published light of day because it is written in a style most readers won't enjoy. So it goes. But it kept me writing. Another great keep-me-on-track through Hades and back was a judge who wrote my opening prose of a dream the hero was having 'was pure genius and not to touch it'. So I never have changed it, another novella I luv, but may not get published. All this rambling, the point being, as you've expressed, there is tremendous value in the contest experience. Certainly, that is true for the American Title IV, which has opened several doors even though I was out the first round. I will say my experience of contests in 1999 and the ones I entered a couple of years ago, is different in that the critiques were much harsher and very limited in their writer vision. Why? I don't know. But I figured, I might as well get rejected by real publishers, rather than worry about chapter contests anymore. Which has proven to be a valuable strategy for me. Anna, thanks so much, you have given us the gift of your presence, the gift of your experience and the most important gift, your writing. Luv your website! Holiday Hugs!
Holiday Hugs from the Kougar...
Yes, it's a Merry Catmas, a time for lavish use of claws and fangs, yes, a time to rip and shred the package wrappings into environmentally friendly scraps. Mother Earth must be served, after all, you smiling, tail swishing say, while sitting contentedly before the christmas red, but not merry face of your human.
Hey, Big Beautiful Cats, stroll on over to Title Magic for a wonderful and inspiring blog by Anna Campbell, a romance author from down under, Australia, where *loudly purring moi* would luv to prowling visit one day, when accidentally ending up on a terrorist list is a thing of the past. One of the most exciting meows about Anna's blog is the inside, behind-the-scenes look at what writers endure, how we, and she, persevere for our sacred calling.
Below is *smiling purr* moi's comment:
Hi Anna, your contest experiences and life experiences toward becoming published, are truly inspiring. Contests as I look back are like the first line of my wip -- curses or in this case, contests were strange beasts of irony, at least, as I've experienced them. I spent one year, 1999, doing nothing but entering every romantic chapter contest I could. The result, other than the absolutely fascinating and useful critiques, was a first place, a second place and a third place, all different stories. One thing I definitely gained was a new level of discipline, and a much better understanding of what was commercial and what was not in the world of romance writing. One judge so luved my entry she wrote me several personal gushing pages. I cried and cried. That same entry got one 'ten' in the Golden Heart that year, the highest at the time. Although, I absolutely love this novel, it may never see the published light of day because it is written in a style most readers won't enjoy. So it goes. But it kept me writing. Another great keep-me-on-track through Hades and back was a judge who wrote my opening prose of a dream the hero was having 'was pure genius and not to touch it'. So I never have changed it, another novella I luv, but may not get published. All this rambling, the point being, as you've expressed, there is tremendous value in the contest experience. Certainly, that is true for the American Title IV, which has opened several doors even though I was out the first round. I will say my experience of contests in 1999 and the ones I entered a couple of years ago, is different in that the critiques were much harsher and very limited in their writer vision. Why? I don't know. But I figured, I might as well get rejected by real publishers, rather than worry about chapter contests anymore. Which has proven to be a valuable strategy for me. Anna, thanks so much, you have given us the gift of your presence, the gift of your experience and the most important gift, your writing. Luv your website! Holiday Hugs!
Holiday Hugs from the Kougar...
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Sleepy Smooches
This is the Kougaress with her little eyelids propped up by toothpicks. The stress of life is her dire nemesis and a sleep killer today. Instead of walking her bizarre boldly ridiculous dreamland she is awake trying to get her old white van to live again. Probably a lost cause. Unless she could procure the machine and summon the lightening used on Frankenstein. He's alive! He's alive! It's alive! One can only hope.
However, dear Big Kittie Lovers, the sun is blaringly white overhead and the warmth blesses us all on the sweet brown prairie. No frozen paw-tips, no frozen back tosies. Yay! And the Kougar did enjoy the escaping flight of a blue jay. Mother Earth is a glorious place, a glorious being. Just the feel of her beneath moi's striding paws feels glorious, precious.
Hang onto your tail, Big Cats, 2008 may be roller coaster bumpy. Find your lair, stock to spare according to Barbara Hand Clow, expert on the Mayan calendar and also on those visiting us from elsewhere, like the galactic and Pleidian elsewhere. Having never been abducted by the notorious nasty Gray creatures, bow to Bast, the Kougar has no physical experience, so far, with those from another realm world. Not that she wouldn't want to meet the right Kougar virile man with access to all good methods of rejuvenation. Me-ooow, intergalactic dating!
A chat about our domestic cat cousins? Helen's blog on Title Magic today feature's her pet kitty and her English perspective which the Kougaress adores.
Below is sleepy-moi's comment:
Helen, an age ago I used to show our beloved breed of dog. I had no idea neutered was acceptable, fascinating. Anyway, I think the angel-faced attila-hearted cat should be one of your characters, her nemesis, the rodent family dynasty. Yep, I was giggling. And Mr. Sleek Sports Car guy, well, he might have inspired me. Certainly the sexy car would have inspired me, maybe more. Speed! yes, yes, yes.
Sleepy smooches from the Kougar...
However, dear Big Kittie Lovers, the sun is blaringly white overhead and the warmth blesses us all on the sweet brown prairie. No frozen paw-tips, no frozen back tosies. Yay! And the Kougar did enjoy the escaping flight of a blue jay. Mother Earth is a glorious place, a glorious being. Just the feel of her beneath moi's striding paws feels glorious, precious.
Hang onto your tail, Big Cats, 2008 may be roller coaster bumpy. Find your lair, stock to spare according to Barbara Hand Clow, expert on the Mayan calendar and also on those visiting us from elsewhere, like the galactic and Pleidian elsewhere. Having never been abducted by the notorious nasty Gray creatures, bow to Bast, the Kougar has no physical experience, so far, with those from another realm world. Not that she wouldn't want to meet the right Kougar virile man with access to all good methods of rejuvenation. Me-ooow, intergalactic dating!
A chat about our domestic cat cousins? Helen's blog on Title Magic today feature's her pet kitty and her English perspective which the Kougaress adores.
Below is sleepy-moi's comment:
Helen, an age ago I used to show our beloved breed of dog. I had no idea neutered was acceptable, fascinating. Anyway, I think the angel-faced attila-hearted cat should be one of your characters, her nemesis, the rodent family dynasty. Yep, I was giggling. And Mr. Sleek Sports Car guy, well, he might have inspired me. Certainly the sexy car would have inspired me, maybe more. Speed! yes, yes, yes.
Sleepy smooches from the Kougar...
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Smooch for the Brown-Red Bunny
Hey Big Kittie Lovers, the word for today is hay. Yes, the Kougar has the elephant bales of hay harvested from her prairie, now desired by her sibling for her horses in some manner of dysfunctional dynamic the Kougar attempts to prowl around. Please send all good prayers this way. Thank you. Thank you very much.
There are only patches of snow left on the small sweep of prairie, the last few days being mild and lovely. The sunrise and the sunset were incomparably beautiful, the stuff of photos and paintings and postcards. Before the Kougar laid down for her slumber, she spied a bunny munching among her dried, blown-down horseweed. Young, three-fourths grown and absolutely cute, was this bunny. Does Rabbit Spirit have a message for meow-moi? The brown-red bunny sat up on its hind legs and gave the Kougar quite a long look.
Fertility...wouldn't it be lovely if the Kougaress had a sudden fertility of monies. Or such paths to abundance. Certainly she is grateful for the constant fertility of her imagination, which is used extensively in her writing, her stories. And the Kougaress was born under the Chinese sign of the Rabbit...perhaps a major re-birth in her life's journey. Welcomed, if it's good and fun and of benefit to everyone beloved by the Kougaress. Certainly the year, 2008, which breaks down to a 1 in numerology should be of some advantage, since the Kougar's life path is also a 1. One can only hope and purr in this mad, mad world rushing toward 2012.
Big Cat Lovers! Pad on over to Title Magic, enjoy Mel's blog on creating happiness and magic.
Below is purring-moi's comment:
Hey Mel, I haven't thought about 'that guy' in ages. I used to catch him now and then because it was magic to watch him paint. To me writing and painting can be and are magical expressions. Also, it's an opportunity to create 'happy' when the world is crashing unhappily around us. And thanks I always need reminders about mistakes being happy little accidents.
Purr-purr smooch from the Kougar for the brown-red bunny and to all her beloveds...
There are only patches of snow left on the small sweep of prairie, the last few days being mild and lovely. The sunrise and the sunset were incomparably beautiful, the stuff of photos and paintings and postcards. Before the Kougar laid down for her slumber, she spied a bunny munching among her dried, blown-down horseweed. Young, three-fourths grown and absolutely cute, was this bunny. Does Rabbit Spirit have a message for meow-moi? The brown-red bunny sat up on its hind legs and gave the Kougar quite a long look.
Fertility...wouldn't it be lovely if the Kougaress had a sudden fertility of monies. Or such paths to abundance. Certainly she is grateful for the constant fertility of her imagination, which is used extensively in her writing, her stories. And the Kougaress was born under the Chinese sign of the Rabbit...perhaps a major re-birth in her life's journey. Welcomed, if it's good and fun and of benefit to everyone beloved by the Kougaress. Certainly the year, 2008, which breaks down to a 1 in numerology should be of some advantage, since the Kougar's life path is also a 1. One can only hope and purr in this mad, mad world rushing toward 2012.
Big Cat Lovers! Pad on over to Title Magic, enjoy Mel's blog on creating happiness and magic.
Below is purring-moi's comment:
Hey Mel, I haven't thought about 'that guy' in ages. I used to catch him now and then because it was magic to watch him paint. To me writing and painting can be and are magical expressions. Also, it's an opportunity to create 'happy' when the world is crashing unhappily around us. And thanks I always need reminders about mistakes being happy little accidents.
Purr-purr smooch from the Kougar for the brown-red bunny and to all her beloveds...
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Kiss for Route 66
A Kougar kiss for Route 66, the memories. Route 66 where are you? Lost in the mists of time and myth and legend like the immortal icon, James Dean. In her youth, when road trips were still a true adventure, the Kougar got a taste of driving along Route 66. What a sweet wild rush, the freedom to just drive, to speed around curves and through the night between small towns with outrageously wonderful and outrageously cheesy neon signs. The cowboy and cowgirl ones were the Kougar's favorite.
Driving now, driving then, no comparison. The fun has definitely left the roads. Now it's all seat belts and gps and cops who believe in martial law more and more each day. It's cell towers tracking your every move and soon, if some have their evil way, toll roads. Toll roads to make you pay for what you've already paid for via gasoline taxes. Toll roads for the sake of power, the power to control us all, to control one of our basic freedoms in our beloved nation -- the freedom to travel unhindered among the states.
James Dean and those like him during the repressive fifties era fought for and tried to live their vision of freedom. They lost. I like Ike warned us all in the best way, to paraphrase, beware of the military industrial complex. We didn't 'beware'. And we have all lost. We live in a world which sells us on safety, but becomes less and less safe every moment of every day. We live with a government that tells us it's all for our safety, but it's really about THEM controlling us.
Freedom...speed, that which lives in the Kougaress's soul as most treasured. And that which is being lost like a thousand bloody cuts everyday. Which is why the Kougaress's orange sunset prairie is even more precious to her -- every single day.
Hey! Big Kittie Lovers, speed on over to Title Magic for Mai's illuminating words on speed, the other side, when speeding past your life no longers works for your soul or your life's journey.
Below is purr-moi's comment:
Mai, well said about 'speeding' too fast through life, or on your journey through life. Love for others and demonstrating that love is far more important, and how I've tried to live since that lightbulb realization. However, I'm a gal who loves speed, whether in a car, or on horseback -- hey, I'd go for a rocket ride if I could, which is one of the joys of writing, getting to write what you love, but isn't allowed, and the freedom of speed in our culture has been mostly eliminated unless you're a Nascar criver. Route 66 where are you?
Route 66 kisses from the Kougar...
Driving now, driving then, no comparison. The fun has definitely left the roads. Now it's all seat belts and gps and cops who believe in martial law more and more each day. It's cell towers tracking your every move and soon, if some have their evil way, toll roads. Toll roads to make you pay for what you've already paid for via gasoline taxes. Toll roads for the sake of power, the power to control us all, to control one of our basic freedoms in our beloved nation -- the freedom to travel unhindered among the states.
James Dean and those like him during the repressive fifties era fought for and tried to live their vision of freedom. They lost. I like Ike warned us all in the best way, to paraphrase, beware of the military industrial complex. We didn't 'beware'. And we have all lost. We live in a world which sells us on safety, but becomes less and less safe every moment of every day. We live with a government that tells us it's all for our safety, but it's really about THEM controlling us.
Freedom...speed, that which lives in the Kougaress's soul as most treasured. And that which is being lost like a thousand bloody cuts everyday. Which is why the Kougaress's orange sunset prairie is even more precious to her -- every single day.
Hey! Big Kittie Lovers, speed on over to Title Magic for Mai's illuminating words on speed, the other side, when speeding past your life no longers works for your soul or your life's journey.
Below is purr-moi's comment:
Mai, well said about 'speeding' too fast through life, or on your journey through life. Love for others and demonstrating that love is far more important, and how I've tried to live since that lightbulb realization. However, I'm a gal who loves speed, whether in a car, or on horseback -- hey, I'd go for a rocket ride if I could, which is one of the joys of writing, getting to write what you love, but isn't allowed, and the freedom of speed in our culture has been mostly eliminated unless you're a Nascar criver. Route 66 where are you?
Route 66 kisses from the Kougar...
Monday, December 17, 2007
Adventure's Kiss
Hello Big Kittie Lovers, today it's all about the Kougar and the American Title IV contest. Lope on over to romantictimes.com -- vote for your fave! after reading the story summary entries, excitingly entertaining indeed! Purr, happy purr! The Kougar is always intrigued, belly-tickled and yes, amused by the judges remarks. She is also baffled sometimes, by the judges most carefully pondered responses. No, not to her paw-precious entry -- at least, she is so spared this go around, but to her fellow finalists.
While the Kougar's ability, gained through many years upon the Mother, to understand a particular judge's point-of-view, is in great working order, she remains a bit baffled by the lack of adventurous forays into new writing territory. To meow-moi's view there is a vast savanna between poor and horrible writing and a story that may be on the cutting edge of culture's need to stride forward toward a superior future. Or just a good story who's time has come to be told for the enjoyment of many, beyond the good ole' tried and true. Tried and true aside, and certainly regarded as generally good by the Kougar -- still the new-grown savanna, the new hunt for a meal not yet tasted, and merely the unexplored savanna of life -- isn't that of social value, of true happiness value? Gee? and purring-rumble, wasn't that the vital essence of Star Trek?
Or -- Reading (romances preferred), the final frontier...Where no Kougar has loped before...
Where is Captain's Kirk's Over-Voice when moi needs it?
Yowling for William Shatner...yowling for William Shatner...no, the Kougaress is not stalking the slick strange hilarious streets of Boston Legal in search of the illustrious Enterprise Captain, now indulging in a holo deck fantasy as a mad cow flamingo lawyer who knows how to win legal cases by being simply, Denny Crane...no, it is just too much for the Universe to ask.
For all those Big Cats who adore the magical and the paranormal in their reading repertoire check out our launch of Title Magic, the ATIV blog.
Below the Kougar humbly offers what would have been her entry, if she hadn't been eliminated.
Story Summary for Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis:
In 2051, murder is rare in New Atlantis. The risen land of the antediluvian empire, Atlantis, is now a sovereign land colonized by freedom fighters from the former USA, survivors of the Conflicts fought against the New World Order’s attempt to openly rule the world. A Jackie O look-alike is murdered inside her Gardenia, New Atlantis motel room. To Sheriff Kalypso Sun Wing it looks like the horrific work of a serial killer from the Federal Union, the Hair Spray Killer, his unlucky thirteenth victim. In a gesture of cooperation she invites the Federal Union Agent in charge of the case, Zryphus Dolen Vasquoz, to assist her in the investigation. Arrogantly, Agent Vasquoz assumes he will be taking over, a notion smashed by the Sheriff. After all, she’s in charge and women run New Atlantis. The battle of the sexes sizzles between them immediately. Zryphus has found the woman he wants to marry. Kalypso has sworn off men forever. Since the protection of citizens is her highest priority, she needs his help to swiftly capture the notorious Hair Spray Killer, a chihuahua shifter – and help her figure out who wants the diary Jackie O may have been murdered over – a newly found diary written by Jacqueline Kennedy during her White House years. When the Hair Spray Killer comes after Kalypso, Zryphus won’t let her out of his sight or their bed. However, the hidden group pulling the Killer Chihuahua’s strings, wants New Atlantis under their thumb – using every necessary evil.
Adventure's kiss from the Kougar...
While the Kougar's ability, gained through many years upon the Mother, to understand a particular judge's point-of-view, is in great working order, she remains a bit baffled by the lack of adventurous forays into new writing territory. To meow-moi's view there is a vast savanna between poor and horrible writing and a story that may be on the cutting edge of culture's need to stride forward toward a superior future. Or just a good story who's time has come to be told for the enjoyment of many, beyond the good ole' tried and true. Tried and true aside, and certainly regarded as generally good by the Kougar -- still the new-grown savanna, the new hunt for a meal not yet tasted, and merely the unexplored savanna of life -- isn't that of social value, of true happiness value? Gee? and purring-rumble, wasn't that the vital essence of Star Trek?
Or -- Reading (romances preferred), the final frontier...Where no Kougar has loped before...
Where is Captain's Kirk's Over-Voice when moi needs it?
Yowling for William Shatner...yowling for William Shatner...no, the Kougaress is not stalking the slick strange hilarious streets of Boston Legal in search of the illustrious Enterprise Captain, now indulging in a holo deck fantasy as a mad cow flamingo lawyer who knows how to win legal cases by being simply, Denny Crane...no, it is just too much for the Universe to ask.
For all those Big Cats who adore the magical and the paranormal in their reading repertoire check out our launch of Title Magic, the ATIV blog.
Below the Kougar humbly offers what would have been her entry, if she hadn't been eliminated.
Story Summary for Murder by Hair Spray in Gardenia, New Atlantis:
In 2051, murder is rare in New Atlantis. The risen land of the antediluvian empire, Atlantis, is now a sovereign land colonized by freedom fighters from the former USA, survivors of the Conflicts fought against the New World Order’s attempt to openly rule the world. A Jackie O look-alike is murdered inside her Gardenia, New Atlantis motel room. To Sheriff Kalypso Sun Wing it looks like the horrific work of a serial killer from the Federal Union, the Hair Spray Killer, his unlucky thirteenth victim. In a gesture of cooperation she invites the Federal Union Agent in charge of the case, Zryphus Dolen Vasquoz, to assist her in the investigation. Arrogantly, Agent Vasquoz assumes he will be taking over, a notion smashed by the Sheriff. After all, she’s in charge and women run New Atlantis. The battle of the sexes sizzles between them immediately. Zryphus has found the woman he wants to marry. Kalypso has sworn off men forever. Since the protection of citizens is her highest priority, she needs his help to swiftly capture the notorious Hair Spray Killer, a chihuahua shifter – and help her figure out who wants the diary Jackie O may have been murdered over – a newly found diary written by Jacqueline Kennedy during her White House years. When the Hair Spray Killer comes after Kalypso, Zryphus won’t let her out of his sight or their bed. However, the hidden group pulling the Killer Chihuahua’s strings, wants New Atlantis under their thumb – using every necessary evil.
Adventure's kiss from the Kougar...
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Kiss of Freedom
Small peeks of the luscious neon pink between the sunset-struck clouds, that is the Kougar's world on the prairie, on the freedom of the prairie. Ever since she was the tiniest of cubs, the Kougar has adored freedom, the freedom to run, then the freedom to read.
As a wide-eyed cub, the Kougar learned about the freedom of our beloved nation, about the liberty of 1776, and she reveled in such a bold and wonderful way to create the world. Freedom in whatever form, has always felt sacred to the Kougar -- sacred, as if held against her precious beating heart to be loved forever.
The freedom to dance her paws joins her with the Sublime Goddess. The freedom to yowl her beliefs, so precious to her soul. The freedom to simply live in the pursuit of happiness. The dreams and the dream-come-true is what the Kougar has lived for, for herself and for everyone. Currently, those freedoms are all but gone for most of us. Our freedom, fought for with the blood of true patriots is gone. Sold to a world mafia. Allowed to become a kindergarten state.
Yes, now it's gone. The Kougar never thought to live in a world where freedom is disappearing faster than the Amazon forest, where freedom is no longer cherished by so many, but destroyed daily through ignorance, pettiness of spirit, ego greed, cruel tyranny and acts of incredible evil.
Freedom, destroyed by those who believe they are doing good. Or good intentions pave the way to hell. Yep, it's true. The Kougar lives it everyday, to her scrunched-up face horror. Her tail twitches desperately in the nightmare.
Yes, the Kougar has tasted the meat of real freedom. She knows what it is to run free. Do you?
Kiss of freedom from the Kougar...
As a wide-eyed cub, the Kougar learned about the freedom of our beloved nation, about the liberty of 1776, and she reveled in such a bold and wonderful way to create the world. Freedom in whatever form, has always felt sacred to the Kougar -- sacred, as if held against her precious beating heart to be loved forever.
The freedom to dance her paws joins her with the Sublime Goddess. The freedom to yowl her beliefs, so precious to her soul. The freedom to simply live in the pursuit of happiness. The dreams and the dream-come-true is what the Kougar has lived for, for herself and for everyone. Currently, those freedoms are all but gone for most of us. Our freedom, fought for with the blood of true patriots is gone. Sold to a world mafia. Allowed to become a kindergarten state.
Yes, now it's gone. The Kougar never thought to live in a world where freedom is disappearing faster than the Amazon forest, where freedom is no longer cherished by so many, but destroyed daily through ignorance, pettiness of spirit, ego greed, cruel tyranny and acts of incredible evil.
Freedom, destroyed by those who believe they are doing good. Or good intentions pave the way to hell. Yep, it's true. The Kougar lives it everyday, to her scrunched-up face horror. Her tail twitches desperately in the nightmare.
Yes, the Kougar has tasted the meat of real freedom. She knows what it is to run free. Do you?
Kiss of freedom from the Kougar...
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Wintry Kisses
Snow blankets the tame prairie in preparation for winter, or the Winter Solstice when daylight yields to darkness, then slowly blooms the Light toward spring's awakening. Small flurries of snowflakes whirl toward the white blanket amid the teensy dust-like flakes falling steadily. A blanket of moisture for the land, a blanket spread over the smallest creatures. The Kougar has left lots of seed plants standing for the birdies. Unfortunately for the squirrels the black walnuts were hardly in existence this year due to a late freeze in Spring.
Truth spoken with a soft paw, the Kougar is in a black mood. Perhaps she misses the sun's brilliant white-yellow face. Or maybe it is her window-view on our current world troubles. Yes, those immortal words of wisdom ring through her little sinus-swollen head. Don't watch tv news if it depresses you. Don't look at the internet news stories if you don't want all the chicken littles telling you the sky is falling upon your furry tawny head -- never mind if it actually is falling. Yes, go play ostrich, stick your head in the fake beach sand of a virtual game. Never mind if moi is silently prowling for a meal and finds you helplessly stuck in the sand, or lost in the happy over-thrill world of a virtual game. You can't see her. Since the Kougar is not in the virtual game. Yes, she pounces, and it's all over -- you head off to the light of the Other Side.
However, Big Kittie Lovers, most claw-likely, it is that warning sense just before the tsunami arrives, the sense used by the elephants and other animals, who ran to safety ahead of the giant devastating tide.
However, where is safety? These days? Who is safe these days? The Kougar does not feel safe, despite her sharp claws and fangs. Except in the embrace of the Divine. In the ever-embrace of the Mother Earth, and the Mother Bast.
Meanwhile, black mood aside, she will enjoy her blowing-snow wintry world -- and be glad she doesn't have to stalk through the cold night for her dinner.
Wintry kisses from the Kougar....
Truth spoken with a soft paw, the Kougar is in a black mood. Perhaps she misses the sun's brilliant white-yellow face. Or maybe it is her window-view on our current world troubles. Yes, those immortal words of wisdom ring through her little sinus-swollen head. Don't watch tv news if it depresses you. Don't look at the internet news stories if you don't want all the chicken littles telling you the sky is falling upon your furry tawny head -- never mind if it actually is falling. Yes, go play ostrich, stick your head in the fake beach sand of a virtual game. Never mind if moi is silently prowling for a meal and finds you helplessly stuck in the sand, or lost in the happy over-thrill world of a virtual game. You can't see her. Since the Kougar is not in the virtual game. Yes, she pounces, and it's all over -- you head off to the light of the Other Side.
However, Big Kittie Lovers, most claw-likely, it is that warning sense just before the tsunami arrives, the sense used by the elephants and other animals, who ran to safety ahead of the giant devastating tide.
However, where is safety? These days? Who is safe these days? The Kougar does not feel safe, despite her sharp claws and fangs. Except in the embrace of the Divine. In the ever-embrace of the Mother Earth, and the Mother Bast.
Meanwhile, black mood aside, she will enjoy her blowing-snow wintry world -- and be glad she doesn't have to stalk through the cold night for her dinner.
Wintry kisses from the Kougar....
Friday, December 14, 2007
The Goddess of Hellfire
The Kougar performs a huge cat stretch, so delightful. Another gray day on the ice-freed prairie. The sun looks like a fuzzy out-of-focus moon, but warmer is better. So, let's see wonderful Big Kittie Lovers, what wisdom do we have for today? Or should the Kougaress consult the crystal ball of her inner witch?
Ahhh, magic. Title Magic. Monday is the exciting enchanting day our Title Magic blog is launched. Yay! Meow! Yay! Purr! And happily, the Kougar has just learned two of her title magic buddies, Evonne and Mel are Leos, the sacred sun in Leo at the time of their birth upon the Mother.
No, the Kougaress is not a Leo, however she joins them in the fire sign realm of Aries, as both the notorious and notoriously shy Goddess of Hellfire. For two nights now the Kougar has been dreaming of that oldie goldie song, I am the God of Hellfire. Not much to the lyrics, but the song is a dramatic explosion, and wildfire-adored by the Kougaress. Upon her first listening, her paws and her sleek body sinuously flew in the fiercest dance.
And who among you can resist a heroine who is banished from another world for a time of repentance and learning, who can turn into all things flame, who can shape-shift into fire. Or has that useful skill of devouring fire, quite effective for the ubiquitous out-of-control forest fires of this day and age. Yes, another one of the Kougar's works in progress. So much writing-fun, so little writing time. And so many shiver-intriguing powers to explore.
Yeee-owww, remembering the crystal ball, the Kougaress is sensing dramatic changes ahead for most of us on this erratic, weather-changing planet -- this planet of wars and prophetic tribulations. Walk steadily, dear big cats, walk with love. But also walk with fierceness.
Encouraging kisses from the Kougar...
Ahhh, magic. Title Magic. Monday is the exciting enchanting day our Title Magic blog is launched. Yay! Meow! Yay! Purr! And happily, the Kougar has just learned two of her title magic buddies, Evonne and Mel are Leos, the sacred sun in Leo at the time of their birth upon the Mother.
No, the Kougaress is not a Leo, however she joins them in the fire sign realm of Aries, as both the notorious and notoriously shy Goddess of Hellfire. For two nights now the Kougar has been dreaming of that oldie goldie song, I am the God of Hellfire. Not much to the lyrics, but the song is a dramatic explosion, and wildfire-adored by the Kougaress. Upon her first listening, her paws and her sleek body sinuously flew in the fiercest dance.
And who among you can resist a heroine who is banished from another world for a time of repentance and learning, who can turn into all things flame, who can shape-shift into fire. Or has that useful skill of devouring fire, quite effective for the ubiquitous out-of-control forest fires of this day and age. Yes, another one of the Kougar's works in progress. So much writing-fun, so little writing time. And so many shiver-intriguing powers to explore.
Yeee-owww, remembering the crystal ball, the Kougaress is sensing dramatic changes ahead for most of us on this erratic, weather-changing planet -- this planet of wars and prophetic tribulations. Walk steadily, dear big cats, walk with love. But also walk with fierceness.
Encouraging kisses from the Kougar...
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Raining Ice Kisses the Prairie
It's raining ice here on the big kitty prairie. Spears of ice fall, glimmering their fantasy brightness from the aged tree outside my favorite window. The tree forms a huge v at the base before spreading upwards into the wild blue yonder...well, an exaggeration, but Ms. Tree is tall with her age, her limbs pruned by the savage methods of nature many times. Crash, crash on the ground, and smacking bangs on the Kougar's domain, the coating of ice falls in every shape and size. It looks like a strange rain fall, but loud and wonderful and glittering tiny, tiny rainbows all the way down. The sun is finally shining again on the prairie so beautiful, deep with grass, the tan grasses cover the thick green grass beneath a sky of moderate soft blue. Tame thin puffs of cloud hang in the southern sky, left over from the gray blanket of yesterday.
Hey Big Kittie Lovers if you're an extreme-passion romance writer, if you have a sweet hot taste for the erotic, if you're published or unpublished this may be the contest for you. Info directly from the Passionate Ink Forum:
Hi Inkers,we want to make this the best year yet for the Passionate Plume and Stroke of Midnight. Please help us spread the word. If you are a member of any other chapters, writing groups, websites, crit groups, etc, please spread the word about the contests. The info can all be found on the Contests page at http://www.passionateink.org/contests/
Raining ice kisses the prairie with much-needed moisture. Thank you, Divine Bast.
A loving smooch to All from the Kougar...
Hey Big Kittie Lovers if you're an extreme-passion romance writer, if you have a sweet hot taste for the erotic, if you're published or unpublished this may be the contest for you. Info directly from the Passionate Ink Forum:
Hi Inkers,we want to make this the best year yet for the Passionate Plume and Stroke of Midnight. Please help us spread the word. If you are a member of any other chapters, writing groups, websites, crit groups, etc, please spread the word about the contests. The info can all be found on the Contests page at http://www.passionateink.org/contests/
Raining ice kisses the prairie with much-needed moisture. Thank you, Divine Bast.
A loving smooch to All from the Kougar...
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Nightmare Kiss on a Gray Day
Hello, Big Kittie Lovers, despite the treacherous ice gravel path, the Kougar has accomplished her shopping hunt in fine-claw style, especially the bargain on organic egg nog. All that luscious cream with the spices that put the 'satisfied purring smile' on the Kougar's lips.
So, what great and wonderful message does the Kougar offer today? This gray day following several gray icy rainy days on the tame, yet cattle-resplendent prairie. The Kougar is yowling-frustrated. No shining sun upon her furry face. No sunrise glorious colors, no vermilion neon sun on the bare-limbed horizon. No pink-blazing clouds.
Back to the message, the Kougar in repose impatiently slaps her splendid whip-like caramel furred tail on the comfort of her carpet. For, the message offered up in her strange Alfred Hitchcock nightmare, had to be pondered upon before being deciphered. No easy task, brave big kitties, for the acts of ugliness in the nightmare were truly horrifying. In scene after tv drama scene the evil get their own back, eventually in a circle of fate which devours its own tail. Yes, the corrupt in soul and moral and deed end up disposing of their own. May it ever be so, so the innocent and the good among us no longer become casualties of their evil deeds. Now that would be a good New Year, in the Kougar's ever humble rumbling opinion.
Indeed, a nightmare kiss on a gray day.
Candy sweet kisses from the Kougar...it is the holiday season.
So, what great and wonderful message does the Kougar offer today? This gray day following several gray icy rainy days on the tame, yet cattle-resplendent prairie. The Kougar is yowling-frustrated. No shining sun upon her furry face. No sunrise glorious colors, no vermilion neon sun on the bare-limbed horizon. No pink-blazing clouds.
Back to the message, the Kougar in repose impatiently slaps her splendid whip-like caramel furred tail on the comfort of her carpet. For, the message offered up in her strange Alfred Hitchcock nightmare, had to be pondered upon before being deciphered. No easy task, brave big kitties, for the acts of ugliness in the nightmare were truly horrifying. In scene after tv drama scene the evil get their own back, eventually in a circle of fate which devours its own tail. Yes, the corrupt in soul and moral and deed end up disposing of their own. May it ever be so, so the innocent and the good among us no longer become casualties of their evil deeds. Now that would be a good New Year, in the Kougar's ever humble rumbling opinion.
Indeed, a nightmare kiss on a gray day.
Candy sweet kisses from the Kougar...it is the holiday season.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Kiss to the Cougar Girl
The Kougar would like to very personally *rub...rub, purr...purr* thank the Weather Spirits, Mother Earth and the Divine Bast for the warmer temps that spared her electrical lines and her many splendid trees from too much of an ice coating, despite adoring such a fairy crystalline world.
And no, my Big Kittie Lovers, she did not ruthlessly frighten that poor woman at her hot tub. Though, the Kougar must confess a sensual delight in the hot tub water-whirling experience. Yum, yum memories of hot tubs.
Ahhh, the crystal ball is clearing, let the Kougaress see if she can do a little channeling of the alleged hot tub loving cougar. Come on, pretty kitty, talk to me...what were you doing there? and why? Yes, there is Cougar Spirit helping me connect. Kitty, a girl cougar was just looking for a warm place to rest and hang out while eyeing the neighborhood yappers for some exceptional dining, given that most of the canine yappers are deliciously overweight and muscle tender...quite tasty as a gourmet meal. However, not fulfilling as the real meat of a young elk or a doe. After all, a kitty must prepare for the cold paw winter ahead when food can be scarce...besides, the cougar girl kindly reminded the woman that Cougar Spirit wished to help her, speak with her...the woman needed to bring forth her big cat ferociousness, her ability to survive in the asphalt mean world belonging to humanity. The cougar girl wishes All a happy hunting season and reminds us we all need to live together in balance, for all of us to live on the Mother, the Great Mother Earth.
The Kougaress vision-sees the cougar girl presenting a bow of respect and appreciation because someone has actually listened to her words, the wisdom she is here to offer.
Thank You, Cougar Spirit. The Kougaress presents a bow of reverence to you.
Kiss to the Cougar Girl, and kisses to All from the Kougar...
And no, my Big Kittie Lovers, she did not ruthlessly frighten that poor woman at her hot tub. Though, the Kougar must confess a sensual delight in the hot tub water-whirling experience. Yum, yum memories of hot tubs.
Ahhh, the crystal ball is clearing, let the Kougaress see if she can do a little channeling of the alleged hot tub loving cougar. Come on, pretty kitty, talk to me...what were you doing there? and why? Yes, there is Cougar Spirit helping me connect. Kitty, a girl cougar was just looking for a warm place to rest and hang out while eyeing the neighborhood yappers for some exceptional dining, given that most of the canine yappers are deliciously overweight and muscle tender...quite tasty as a gourmet meal. However, not fulfilling as the real meat of a young elk or a doe. After all, a kitty must prepare for the cold paw winter ahead when food can be scarce...besides, the cougar girl kindly reminded the woman that Cougar Spirit wished to help her, speak with her...the woman needed to bring forth her big cat ferociousness, her ability to survive in the asphalt mean world belonging to humanity. The cougar girl wishes All a happy hunting season and reminds us we all need to live together in balance, for all of us to live on the Mother, the Great Mother Earth.
The Kougaress vision-sees the cougar girl presenting a bow of respect and appreciation because someone has actually listened to her words, the wisdom she is here to offer.
Thank You, Cougar Spirit. The Kougaress presents a bow of reverence to you.
Kiss to the Cougar Girl, and kisses to All from the Kougar...
Monday, December 10, 2007
Icy Kissed Playground
The Kougar is playfully sliding over her ice realm. Fortunately her transport off the prairie is running, de-icing its windows. Thank you, Bast, and knock on wood, or tap, tap goes her paw on the nearest wooden surface. Yes, cold icy slickness rules the world outside the Kougar's cozy lair, where all is humming with vital electricity, and the food supply is large enough -- another ice storm is expected...smile, the Kougaress loves Mother Nature. One must always revere the Mother if her graces are to be expected and granted. Like no fallen electrical lines, heavy with crystalline casings of ice. Thank you.
Her own icy playground, this always leads the Kougaress to her Mad Max thoughts and sci fi future speculations. Truth be told, most of us are walking the tight rope of existence upon Mother Earth, most easily demonstrated by New Orleans after Katrina. If a massive outage of electricity occurred for any length of time over our beloved country...well, it doesn't require much mental prowess to envision the catastrophic consequences.
Sad to say -- the Kougar scowls formidably -- those who are supposed to care about us, care about our beloved land, those who lead us -- no, they don't care. Not truly care. Their hearts are encased in ice, frozen against caring, really caring about us All. At best they care about their loved ones, and try to fight the good fight. Try, being the operative word and thus, always ineffective. Not many Mr. Smith's in Washington, DC these days.
No, as the Kougar has recently heard from many mouths, the District of Columbia has become the District of Criminals. At worst, the so-called leaders care about their offshore bank accounts, their slush funds, their latest scams to gain more power...because, ultimately, power is the name of the game. And remember, dear Big Kitties, as I'm certain you do...absolute power corrupts absolutely.
However, the Kougar gazes out at her icy kissed playground and prays with dedication for a better day, a better future for us All...while devotedly writing her sci fi future smut novels.
Icy kisses from the prairie...
Her own icy playground, this always leads the Kougaress to her Mad Max thoughts and sci fi future speculations. Truth be told, most of us are walking the tight rope of existence upon Mother Earth, most easily demonstrated by New Orleans after Katrina. If a massive outage of electricity occurred for any length of time over our beloved country...well, it doesn't require much mental prowess to envision the catastrophic consequences.
Sad to say -- the Kougar scowls formidably -- those who are supposed to care about us, care about our beloved land, those who lead us -- no, they don't care. Not truly care. Their hearts are encased in ice, frozen against caring, really caring about us All. At best they care about their loved ones, and try to fight the good fight. Try, being the operative word and thus, always ineffective. Not many Mr. Smith's in Washington, DC these days.
No, as the Kougar has recently heard from many mouths, the District of Columbia has become the District of Criminals. At worst, the so-called leaders care about their offshore bank accounts, their slush funds, their latest scams to gain more power...because, ultimately, power is the name of the game. And remember, dear Big Kitties, as I'm certain you do...absolute power corrupts absolutely.
However, the Kougar gazes out at her icy kissed playground and prays with dedication for a better day, a better future for us All...while devotedly writing her sci fi future smut novels.
Icy kisses from the prairie...
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Kisses from the Cub-Child
Traversing the crazy quixotic world of dreams, the Kougar has given birth to a wild child ferocious cub. Being in her human form at the time this seemed particularly odd. The father shall remain nameless, since he was nameless in the dream and hardly aware of his progeny. This is hardly surprising given the sudden 'yay! painless birth and the fact that it might as well have been another case of immaculate conception.
No, my Big Kittie Lovers, no romping yowling mating fun at all in this dream. Just a cub the Kougaress kept trying to take care of, who did love his mommy. Maybe that's the good news of the dream...a loving mother and her cub-child.
Ahhh, the christmas time of year...the birth. Perhaps an opportunity for the birth of new love on our blue marble spinning world. Love as a spiritual force. Love between parent and child. Love between woman and man. Love between couples. Love between friends...love in all it's wonderful warm facets. Love.
The birth of new love...the Kougar likes that...purring rumble purr...a purring smile.
Kisses from the cub-child and his mother...
No, my Big Kittie Lovers, no romping yowling mating fun at all in this dream. Just a cub the Kougaress kept trying to take care of, who did love his mommy. Maybe that's the good news of the dream...a loving mother and her cub-child.
Ahhh, the christmas time of year...the birth. Perhaps an opportunity for the birth of new love on our blue marble spinning world. Love as a spiritual force. Love between parent and child. Love between woman and man. Love between couples. Love between friends...love in all it's wonderful warm facets. Love.
The birth of new love...the Kougar likes that...purring rumble purr...a purring smile.
Kisses from the cub-child and his mother...
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Kiss of Happiness
Grrrr...the Kougar is in a grrrr-ing mood. Not helped by the tumble-chaos of hormones, and not the fun kind. Except when she's writing those deliciously hot smut scenes, which she just did for her cursed goddess and her hero, an ongoing work in progress.
Let me curl into a comfortable position and pose a question, my Big Kittie Lovers, what is happiness to you?
Do you know anyone, in this current day and age (headed for the 2012 showdown) -- do you know anyone who is truly happy?
I don't mean moments of happiness or even a day of happiness...but, do you know anyone who is fundamentally happy?
When the Kougaress peers out at the world, at the so-called stars and celebrities, at the foppish over-dressed politicians and their cohorts, at all the martial law authority figures telling us how we can live and how we cannot, and at all the nanny whiny ninnies telling us how we can live and how we cannot -- when she stealthily walks among the good and decent and loving humans going about their everyday lives...there is no happiness in their eyes. No sparks of fire in the depths of their beautiful human eyes for life, for living. No zest (forget the soap). No fundamental happiness.
However, dear Big Cats, the Kougar's observations may be quite faulty. She did lose her seventies rose-colored glasses quite some time ago. If anyone finds them she would appreciate their immediate return. And offers a huge reward only to be discussed at the time the aforementioned glasses are returned.
Wishing you a deliciously hot kiss from your hero or heroine....and wishing you the kiss of happiness during his holiday season.
Let me curl into a comfortable position and pose a question, my Big Kittie Lovers, what is happiness to you?
Do you know anyone, in this current day and age (headed for the 2012 showdown) -- do you know anyone who is truly happy?
I don't mean moments of happiness or even a day of happiness...but, do you know anyone who is fundamentally happy?
When the Kougaress peers out at the world, at the so-called stars and celebrities, at the foppish over-dressed politicians and their cohorts, at all the martial law authority figures telling us how we can live and how we cannot, and at all the nanny whiny ninnies telling us how we can live and how we cannot -- when she stealthily walks among the good and decent and loving humans going about their everyday lives...there is no happiness in their eyes. No sparks of fire in the depths of their beautiful human eyes for life, for living. No zest (forget the soap). No fundamental happiness.
However, dear Big Cats, the Kougar's observations may be quite faulty. She did lose her seventies rose-colored glasses quite some time ago. If anyone finds them she would appreciate their immediate return. And offers a huge reward only to be discussed at the time the aforementioned glasses are returned.
Wishing you a deliciously hot kiss from your hero or heroine....and wishing you the kiss of happiness during his holiday season.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Dream Walker Kisses
My, my the Kougar has been dream walking through her epic sagas lately. Perhaps, because she has been allowed some actual sleep time. Dreams are usually highly frustrating for the Kougar, all that wacky ridiculous icky symbolism to wade through *here the Kougar picks up her paw shaking off the water, yet is still determined to drink and cross the stream's gentle rushing shine*...
However, this dream just before waking, this saga of simply trying to have happiness -- because that's what this dream boiled down to -- all the movie images and colors and emotions -- this dream experience brought such a profound insight -- not merely to the Kougaress's path through this life -- but insight into the path itself.
Yes, dear Big Kittie Lovers, the insight so profound and key to the 'why' of life here, the Kougaress will take her sweet strolling time mulling it over, tasting it thoroughly, experiencing what she has learned. She will watch this new insight evolve into wisdom. She will recover from the earthquake shock she has endured in realizing this truth of our global culture. For it shakes the very foundation of all she has ever believed in, what she has tried to accomplish for All.
Happiness.
Dream walker kisses from the Kougar...
However, this dream just before waking, this saga of simply trying to have happiness -- because that's what this dream boiled down to -- all the movie images and colors and emotions -- this dream experience brought such a profound insight -- not merely to the Kougaress's path through this life -- but insight into the path itself.
Yes, dear Big Kittie Lovers, the insight so profound and key to the 'why' of life here, the Kougaress will take her sweet strolling time mulling it over, tasting it thoroughly, experiencing what she has learned. She will watch this new insight evolve into wisdom. She will recover from the earthquake shock she has endured in realizing this truth of our global culture. For it shakes the very foundation of all she has ever believed in, what she has tried to accomplish for All.
Happiness.
Dream walker kisses from the Kougar...
Thursday, December 6, 2007
A Little Snow Kiss
The cattle prairie has been decorated with freezing crystals and small mounds of snow, whiteness which almost covers the brown thick grasses. The sky is a dreary cloud-rumpled grayness. And the Kougar is sauntering slowly about her abode, attempting to decide on the best remedy for her muzzy head. Muzzy, because of the new weather front. And definitely sleep-muzzy because of the wicked lovely fantasy dreams about super heroes, the Superman/Clark Kent type, that is -- performing all sorts of steel-throbbing activities. Starring mewing-moi.
Never mind, innocent Big Kitties, the Kougar will begin another one of her 'fantasy' stories. This one in a dark-edged world of super heroines and heroes.
However, in fine lucid dreaming fashion, the Kougaress pounced upon the ending(?) to her most current naughty smut novel in the fun and titillating works. With a grab of her fangs she carried that baby (not an actual secret baby or any baby at all) she carried that baby-ending, featured like a movie snippet in her dreaming mind, and walked into her waking world by opening one eye to a new gray day, by observing a little snow kiss upon the serene wintery prairies.
A snow kiss upon you cheek from the Kougar...
Never mind, innocent Big Kitties, the Kougar will begin another one of her 'fantasy' stories. This one in a dark-edged world of super heroines and heroes.
However, in fine lucid dreaming fashion, the Kougaress pounced upon the ending(?) to her most current naughty smut novel in the fun and titillating works. With a grab of her fangs she carried that baby (not an actual secret baby or any baby at all) she carried that baby-ending, featured like a movie snippet in her dreaming mind, and walked into her waking world by opening one eye to a new gray day, by observing a little snow kiss upon the serene wintery prairies.
A snow kiss upon you cheek from the Kougar...
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Kiss Your Inner Artist
Grrrr...the Kougar's tail tip smacks the floor as she lounges on her side. Grrrrr...her inner artist must be tamed. Tamed or ignored.
Ever ignore your inner artist? The insistent re-playing music of your muse?
The Kougaress has loads more empathy for those of us on the same artist's prairie, and for the incomparable and once ignored Vincent Van Gogh, a Sun Aries like grrring-moi, I believe. She quite understands the loss of his ear. Not that she is planning on losing an ear to her tortured artist's soul. No, the Kougar is much too vain, and adores her ears.
The artist's soul, lost and mostly buried beneath the piles of fertilizer, yes, mostly brutalized into extinction in this PC society (in the Kougaress's humble opinion) -- done by design, accomplished not by design of the ignorant, but by those who know the power of creativity, the real power of the artist's soul, the power that changes the world for the sacred better -- through the brilliant slice of words, of truth penned, through every type of artistic endeavor ever dreamed and done which Reveals and Illumines. Which touches us all at our most exquisite depths. Our untamed depths...the longing for truth and freedom. The desire to run free as we were born.
Evidence: PBS's Rare Visions and Roadside Revelations. Yard art from the heart. Art for the sake of creating art. And merely for the sake of the soul.
Yet, the Kougar takes much inner comfort, because every day she witnesses the rise of the Artist's Soul, especially observed in her fellow writers. Yes, the artist is excruciatingly and enchantingly alive, like the lonely weed forcing it's life, it's beauty through cement and asphalt, like the fields of wildflowers demanding their color-lovely blooms live beneath the sun's warmth and light -- all by the grand divine design.
The grand design of the artist.
Kiss your inner artist...
Ever ignore your inner artist? The insistent re-playing music of your muse?
The Kougaress has loads more empathy for those of us on the same artist's prairie, and for the incomparable and once ignored Vincent Van Gogh, a Sun Aries like grrring-moi, I believe. She quite understands the loss of his ear. Not that she is planning on losing an ear to her tortured artist's soul. No, the Kougar is much too vain, and adores her ears.
The artist's soul, lost and mostly buried beneath the piles of fertilizer, yes, mostly brutalized into extinction in this PC society (in the Kougaress's humble opinion) -- done by design, accomplished not by design of the ignorant, but by those who know the power of creativity, the real power of the artist's soul, the power that changes the world for the sacred better -- through the brilliant slice of words, of truth penned, through every type of artistic endeavor ever dreamed and done which Reveals and Illumines. Which touches us all at our most exquisite depths. Our untamed depths...the longing for truth and freedom. The desire to run free as we were born.
Evidence: PBS's Rare Visions and Roadside Revelations. Yard art from the heart. Art for the sake of creating art. And merely for the sake of the soul.
Yet, the Kougar takes much inner comfort, because every day she witnesses the rise of the Artist's Soul, especially observed in her fellow writers. Yes, the artist is excruciatingly and enchantingly alive, like the lonely weed forcing it's life, it's beauty through cement and asphalt, like the fields of wildflowers demanding their color-lovely blooms live beneath the sun's warmth and light -- all by the grand divine design.
The grand design of the artist.
Kiss your inner artist...
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Blue Paradise Kisses
Yeah, the Kougaress wishes she was padding the hot sands beneath a gently blazing sun beside the majestically roaring sea...yes, she wishes she could deliciously roll in the squishy shifting warmth of the sand, enjoy the sun beaming down on her belly...and simply relish the blue paradise day.
Instead, yay! yay! Hope it won't be too excruciatingly agonizing, she has received the edits for her contracted novella, All Shades of Blue Paradise -- for which she must mentally prepare herself by some magical sacred process known only to her beloved, most precious muse -- known only to *cat-sleek bowing* before Bast -- known to the great assistant goddesses of creative writing. And the Kougar must not forget the adored angels *her paws held in prayer* --help, purr, help...rumbling please.
Perhaps it is a divinely sent omen, the Kougaress could only hope for such splendid notice -- today the skies were a shade of blue between the streaming long clouds, a deep translucent shade of sapphire blue...the Kougar has never observed before. Not even in her cubhood when she ferociously ran across the suburban lawns -- when the skies were bright shining blue, rinsed by all shades of turquoise...
Perhaps, as William Henry in his cosmic wisdom tells us, it is the blessing of the blue light upon us all. Or the mystic blue apple of the Knight Templars. Instead of the serpent's apple, a fall from grace, the blue apple is offered, an invitation back into the grace of Light.
May we all know the grace of Light.
Meow mystical kisses from the Kougar...
Instead, yay! yay! Hope it won't be too excruciatingly agonizing, she has received the edits for her contracted novella, All Shades of Blue Paradise -- for which she must mentally prepare herself by some magical sacred process known only to her beloved, most precious muse -- known only to *cat-sleek bowing* before Bast -- known to the great assistant goddesses of creative writing. And the Kougar must not forget the adored angels *her paws held in prayer* --help, purr, help...rumbling please.
Perhaps it is a divinely sent omen, the Kougaress could only hope for such splendid notice -- today the skies were a shade of blue between the streaming long clouds, a deep translucent shade of sapphire blue...the Kougar has never observed before. Not even in her cubhood when she ferociously ran across the suburban lawns -- when the skies were bright shining blue, rinsed by all shades of turquoise...
Perhaps, as William Henry in his cosmic wisdom tells us, it is the blessing of the blue light upon us all. Or the mystic blue apple of the Knight Templars. Instead of the serpent's apple, a fall from grace, the blue apple is offered, an invitation back into the grace of Light.
May we all know the grace of Light.
Meow mystical kisses from the Kougar...
Monday, December 3, 2007
Passionate Ink Kisses
The sun is sinking, my Big Kittie Lovers, an intense bright yellow -- the shade of yellow with gold inside and a hint of mustard splashed on top of it. It's a yowling ick sort of day so far for the Kougaress, a health issue...
However, the Kougar has been eagerly prowling the latest novel offerings displayed by the author members of PassionateInk.org, in Booknotes -- a place for readers to check out which erotic romance they are most famished for next, such a gourmet of various tastes, which always delights the Kougaress. Yum, yum...so many deliciously naughty stories to lap up. Whatever your individual preference...and the Kougaress has always been a fierce defender of individual rights. Roar!!! Individual preferences for All.
Liberty, it is the meat of the Kougar's life.
Roaring yes! Give me reading liberty, or give me the death of those who would deny me. Who would deny anyone else.
Disclaimer: By death -- the Kougar means, not physical death beneath the power of her teeth and claws, but the death of one's ability or power to halt the liberty of another.
Oooooo! My lovely Big Cats, sundown now blazes across the tame prairie horizon in the most glorious passionate ink neon red...amazing, divinely amazing. The artistic paw of the Creatoress favors us.
Passionate ink kisses from the Kougar...
However, the Kougar has been eagerly prowling the latest novel offerings displayed by the author members of PassionateInk.org, in Booknotes -- a place for readers to check out which erotic romance they are most famished for next, such a gourmet of various tastes, which always delights the Kougaress. Yum, yum...so many deliciously naughty stories to lap up. Whatever your individual preference...and the Kougaress has always been a fierce defender of individual rights. Roar!!! Individual preferences for All.
Liberty, it is the meat of the Kougar's life.
Roaring yes! Give me reading liberty, or give me the death of those who would deny me. Who would deny anyone else.
Disclaimer: By death -- the Kougar means, not physical death beneath the power of her teeth and claws, but the death of one's ability or power to halt the liberty of another.
Oooooo! My lovely Big Cats, sundown now blazes across the tame prairie horizon in the most glorious passionate ink neon red...amazing, divinely amazing. The artistic paw of the Creatoress favors us.
Passionate ink kisses from the Kougar...
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Shiver Cold Kisses
*Brrrr* ...baby cubs, it's cold outside. Shiver cold kisses from the Kougaress to all. The wind is whipping arctic chill around as if it means it. Of course, considering winter officially begins December 21 by order of Father Sun...yes, winter looms like a giant preparing to blow blast after blast of cold at us, his cheeks pumping like bellows... never mind, often the Kougaress' imagination races much too wild and out-of-control.
Friday night, December 21, 2012 or the apocalyptic end of the Mayan calendar -- like the subject of my futuristic novella, When a Good Angel Falls, do you ever wonder, do you ever let your imagination run wild?
Indeed, Big Kitty Lovers, what will the future look like then -- endless savannas of romping paradise? Sure, I lick my chops with that sarcasm.
What if you started from this day, projected from every current trend you see, peered into the future like a crystal ball psychic, how would you write the future? Our future?
Or, if you could write your own script, like the 'masters of your own destiny' crowd, how would you write your 2012 future, my darling Big Cats? What is your savanna paradise...yes, all my lovely big kitties out there on the strange playground of Earth, how would you create the paw prints of your life?
Futuristic kisses from the Kougar
Friday night, December 21, 2012 or the apocalyptic end of the Mayan calendar -- like the subject of my futuristic novella, When a Good Angel Falls, do you ever wonder, do you ever let your imagination run wild?
Indeed, Big Kitty Lovers, what will the future look like then -- endless savannas of romping paradise? Sure, I lick my chops with that sarcasm.
What if you started from this day, projected from every current trend you see, peered into the future like a crystal ball psychic, how would you write the future? Our future?
Or, if you could write your own script, like the 'masters of your own destiny' crowd, how would you write your 2012 future, my darling Big Cats? What is your savanna paradise...yes, all my lovely big kitties out there on the strange playground of Earth, how would you create the paw prints of your life?
Futuristic kisses from the Kougar
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Rainy Kisses
Rainy kisses...the Kougaress adores them upon her face...when the drops are warm and lushly wet...splashing kisses applied by the gusty winds as she travels down to her mailbox...a lovely small travel with autumn's yellowing-tan pastures on either side...with the high-banked pond, home of the froggies, now quiet with winter upon our doorstep...with trees, more and more naked of their leaves...and the color of leaves drifting, covering...in rust and brown-gold piles, future nourishment to Mother Earth...as each drop of rain is a precious nourishment, a blessing the rainy kisses so needed by our too-dry land...
The Kougaress is exceptionally fond of her home territory.
And she is in a bit of mind quandary, a thought spin of where and where not to submit her stories. Her prime t-bone concern, the readers. The beloved reader...for the Kougar's dream is to bring her stories to those who most want to read them, those who would value the stories in any manner beneficial to them, to their life and their spirit.
She wishes, fervently wishes her novels will now, and in our future, bring delicious abundant benefits to All -- including *purr-rumbling* moi -- the Kougaress is not shy in her enjoyment of prosperity, of all comforting luxuries. Even if she is not in need of a new faux fur coat for winter's chill winds.
Rainy kisses to all who are drought-stricken now...
Rainy kisses to all who simply adore them...
The Kougaress is exceptionally fond of her home territory.
And she is in a bit of mind quandary, a thought spin of where and where not to submit her stories. Her prime t-bone concern, the readers. The beloved reader...for the Kougar's dream is to bring her stories to those who most want to read them, those who would value the stories in any manner beneficial to them, to their life and their spirit.
She wishes, fervently wishes her novels will now, and in our future, bring delicious abundant benefits to All -- including *purr-rumbling* moi -- the Kougaress is not shy in her enjoyment of prosperity, of all comforting luxuries. Even if she is not in need of a new faux fur coat for winter's chill winds.
Rainy kisses to all who are drought-stricken now...
Rainy kisses to all who simply adore them...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)