Friday, December 20, 2013

On the seventh day of Christmas, your Geevie brings to you...

A favorite holiday song:

The Eagles have been a huge part of my life since I was thirteen years old, when one of my best friends at the time introduced me to them. They'd already broken up by that point, but I inhaled everything they had released. To find their remake of the Christmas classic, "Please Come Home for Christmas" was a gift in and of itself.



Don Henley's voice is buttah on that track, so much so I can't resist singing along... which I did, quite earnestly, when I created the following Christmas video. I'm still waiting for Santa to bring me those pipes. :/



A favorite holiday movie/show:

John Hughes Times 2. How could he POSSIBLY improve upon his megahit, "Home Alone"? By adding the incomparable Tim Curry, of course!!





A holiday recipe:

Broccoli is not for everyone, granted. It's green. It looks like a tree. Which of course makes it the ideal dish for a Christmas gathering. So how do we take this much maligned veggie accessible for the masses? By adding sugar and bacon. Duh.

Broccoli Salad with Bacon and Raisins

A Christmas memory:



When I think back to my early Christmas memories, not everything was always warm and cozy. My family was actually pretty combative on a regular basis, with my mom and my sister on one side of the battlefield, and my dad and I on the other. But in 1978, I got a present that changed all that for one very special Christmas... that gave me the best Christmas of my childhood: time connecting with my family. That gift? A motorized game called "Mr. Mouth." We all had the best time playing this very simple game, and I don't remember laughing as much or enjoying my family as much as this one night. Much later I bought the same game for my kids, but I don't think it meant as much to them as it did to me. Still... I'm a big fan of continuity, and that was a fun tradition to pass along.

I wanted to include a retro commercial, but YouTube offered something oh so much better... a group of people playing this classic game... inebriated. EPIC. (Also... gives me an idea for NYE...)



Book of the day:

In keeping with the Eagles/southern retro theme, my book of the day is my Texas romance "Under Texas Skies." It has a hot alpha cowboy and a marriage of convenience. Merry Christmas. ;)



EXCERPT FROM UNDER TEXAS SKIES

Once they were down in the large basement that had been decorated for use as a recreation room, he handed her the radio. “Where are your emergency supplies?”

“The candles and flashlights are in the top drawer just inside the kitchen.”

He nodded. “Stay here and I’ll be right back.”

Her hand clutched his arm. “Where are you going?”

“To get the supplies,” he answered in a soothing voice. “I’ll be right back,” he assured her with a smile.

She wanted so desperately to be assured as she watched him climb the stairs, but she was truly terrified as she walked over to the futon located against the southern wall. To her right was a full-sized pool table, and to her left was a well-stocked wet bar.

And though she wasn’t much of a drinker, some situations called for a little chemical enhancement. These storms were the reason she kept the bar so full, because it wasn’t the first time she’d hid out in the sanctity of her underground shelter. She stalked promptly across the room and poured herself a glass of straight bourbon. It was down in one gulp.

She closed her eyes and let the liquid warmth flood through her body with a sigh of relief. She opened her eyes again and surroundings. The basement had been her own little addition to the house, built immediately after her parents were killed. She made it large enough she wouldn’t feel the crush of claustrophobia on top of her paranoia, and decorated it with fun and funky mementos that made her laugh, brought her joy, and just generally made her forget that this was where she would come primarily when she felt her life and her home were in danger.

An heirloom quilt covered the futon just across from a full complete entertainment center. When lit, this rich paneled room was homey, eclectic but inviting. Moreover it was safe, and she’d spent many an hour there curled up and panic-stricken, staring at the TV reports on more mediocre storm cells than this. It was all part of living in tornado alley.

Luckily the Double A had only had a few scrapes with tornadoes in more than a hundred years. It only had to be rebuilt once a couple of generations before Jessica’s parents took over the ranch. They had plenty of near misses, but generally the land she lived upon had been considered blessed by all of her ancestors, including her own parents.

With each near miss, however, Jessica worried that her luck would eventually run out. It was like playing Russian Roulette with the weather every time the sky grew dark. Neighboring ranches proved that no one was truly safe from the fickle finger of Mother Nature.

And this time the sky was dark as night, the electricity and the phone were out and a tornado had been spotted on the ground. It was enough to make the little girl in her want to hug her knees to her chest and cry. Where was Dalton? It shouldn’t be taking so long to grab a few candles.

She was about ready to climb the stairs and find him when the door opened, and a fully dressed Dalton began to descend down into the basement. Of course, fully dressed at this point meant he was wearing his jeans with his shirt hanging open, but it was more decent than the blanket by far. Barefoot he trod down the stairs, balancing candles, matches, a couple of flashlights and a blanket.

“What took you so long?” she demanded, her near terror clearly agitating her and keeping her at ill ease. “I changed,” he explained unnecessarily. “And I looked around outside.”

“What?” she shrieked. “Why?”

“There’s nothing in those clouds but heavy rain and lightning,” he assured. “There’s no rotation now, but the storm is moving quickly southeast and there’s no telling what’s behind this cell. We’ll just ride the storm out down here, if that’s okay with you.”

It took her by surprise how easily he took control of the situation but always led her to believe she was in charge. She simply nodded in agreement. Even she wasn’t so foolish to challenge his insubordination that she would emerge from that basement until the last cloud had passed.

He walked around her, placing the supplies on the pool table. Carefully he took the candles over to the bar and entertainment center, lighting enough so the room held a soft glow. He took the blanket, flashlight and radio to the futon, and made himself comfortable as he sat. He cast her a thoughtful glance. “You can sit beside me. I won’t bite.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she replied as she accepted the invitation.

To her surprise he tucked the blanket around both of them. “Then what are you nervous about? You’re wound up so tight I’m afraid you’re going to shatter into a billion pieces.”

“You couldn’t get that lucky,” she retorted. “I told you, it’s the storm.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, resting his arm along the back of the sofa and indirectly around her shoulders. “I guess it would be.”

She knew he was referring to the way her folks died. Painfully she asked, “Did you just find out today?”

He gave an absent shake of the head. “A mutual acquaintance wrote me shortly after it happened.”

She was a little confused by his answer. “Then why did you wait so long to come for a job?” She had believed he’d shown up expecting to find her father. “Someone else could have been running the ranch, for all you knew.”

His eyes met hers in an unreadable expression. “To be honest I wasn’t ready for the commitment of your father’s proposition eight years ago. I was still top of the circuit, and I thoroughly enjoyed the freedom of not being tied to one place.”

She smiled. “You make it sound like he proposed marriage, Dalton. It’s only a job. In fact, it’s one of the few jobs where hopping place to place is a sign of diversity rather than instability.”

He smiled too as he looked away. “You should know. You probably have a lot of experience with cowboys by now. As a boss,” he added quickly, feeling her fur begin to rise.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” she agreed. “After I took charge of the ranch I experienced a complete turnover. Everyone saw me as a spoiled little girl and treated me like I didn’t know my own mind. A couple even thought they could sleep their way into my good graces.” She gave him a meaningful look. “Needless to say, they’re all gone now.”

His eyebrow lifted as he asked, “Is that a warning, Miss Austin?”

“Does it need to be, Mr. McBride?”

He chuckled softly. “As long as I’m your employee, I intend to treat you with all the respect you deserve,” he promised. “Like I said earlier, that would be a great deal.”

She didn’t know how to respond to his praise, so she brought the conversation back to its original topic. “You never did answer my question. What brings you here now?”

“Obviously I’m ready for the commitment,” he answered simply. “That and I missed the thunder.”

“You missed thunder?” she repeated.

He nodded. “There’s something almost musical about the sound of rolling thunder. It’s very comforting.”

“I find it very disconcerting,” she said with a slight shudder. “Especially under conditions like these.”

“This kind of thunder is different,” he clarified softly. “This kind of thunder is the kind that makes your heart race and your blood pound so loudly it’s like a raging flood in your ears. You know something is going to happen, but you don’t know what. And you don’t know when.”

His voice went on so smoothly she closed her eyes and relaxed against the back of the sofa. It hardly seemed real as he took her hand in his, his fingers absently rubbing her palm. Her heart did start to pound against her chest, and distantly she could hear the thunder clap and boom outside. “It’s dangerous,” she reminded in a whisper.

“No, Jess,” he murmured somewhere near her ear. “Thunder is never dangerous. It’s only the sound of electricity.”

“Electricity is dangerous,” she insisted.

“It can be,” he agreed, his breath hot against her cheek, the musky smell of his after-shave enveloping her senses. “If you’re not ready for it,” he added.

She could sense that his face was near hers. Instead of covering her slightly parted lips with his own he hesitated with that last sentence as if waiting for her permission.

Slowly she opened her eyes, only to lose herself in those amazing green eyes. She almost groaned from anticipation as she stared at the sensual curve of his mouth. She longed to tell him she was ready for the electricity of his kiss, but she could barely breathe.

With one finger he traced the outline of her jaw, and then traveled down the sinewy line of her neck. “You’re beautiful, Jess,” he whispered. “I have no right to tell you that, but someone needs to. Do you mind?”

She wanted to tell him he was full of it, like she would have told any other man who tried to sell that kind of compliment on someone so bound and determined to be as plain as nature would allow. But at that moment she kind of wanted to believe it. She tried to shake her head in answer to his question, but he mesmerized her. Nervously she licked her lips, and he let out a guttural moan before crushing his mouth on hers.





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