Camp Letters

Remember when you were a kid and went to summer camp? You wrote a letter home to your parents and sometimes you even beat the letter home?

With the invention of email, things have changed. Now it is the parents who write the letters. Emma went away to camp last week and Saxon and I wrote her an email everyday.

Here, for your amusement, are the emails we sent to Emma:


Hey kiddo!

Did you have fun on your first day even though it was boiling hot outside? Guess what we’re doing today? Going to the doctor in the big city. Saxon has to be there and so we’re staying all night in a hotel because the Federal peeps are paying for it. Papa is coming over to take care of Bear. I’m looking forward to going except not the driving part.

I hope you’re making all kinds of new friends!

Drink lots of water, please.

I love you!




We’re going to the doctor today and a squirrel ate one of my tomatoes.



P.S. I’m not happy about it.

P.S.S. About the doctor, I mean.

P.S.S.S. About the squirrel either.




Hey girl!

I don’t want you to be jelly but we ate at The Waffle House last night. I had a soggy BLT and hash browns. Saxon had a plate of hash browns with the works. What are the works you ask?  Well… on top of the hash browns was ham, cheese, peppers, salsa, ketchup, chili and cream gravy – all mixed together.  I will wait while you go throw up. I actually think Saxon ordered it by mistake but was too proud to admit it so she ate it. When we got up to go after eating we found out that the clean out for the sewer pipe was right under our table and was belching nasty toilet water. This image should last you all day. I love you, Kiddo, make me proud.




Dear Emma,

I’ve lost another gardening tool. This time it is the weed thingy. Bucket, aka Bear, said she misses you and wants to know if you could send a long distance belly rub. I have renamed my room upstairs the Saxoport which is why I disappear up there. I am traveling the super highways of the universe. I hope you are having fun. If not, make sure to fill out a comment card.



P.S. “Bucket” is Bear’s camp nickname.




Do you have your camp nickname yet? Last year’s nickname, Attentive-Ground-Squirrel, needs to be retired. How about this one: Girl-Who-Swims-Like-Dolphin?  Or, Mermaid-Who-Has-Two-Feet? Do these help any?

Saxon keeps calling Bear “Bucket” and it’s driving me slowly insane. She won’t stop.

I’m back to the usual today. Which means I should write and clean house, but I don’t really want to do either. So I think I’ll just pretend to write and clean house. Maybe something will accidentally get done.

Oh yeah, I made brownies last night. They were yumalicious. Sorry you didn’t get any. Hehehehe. Can you tell I’m not really sorry?

I love you,

Mom-Who-Thinks-It’s-Too-Hot To-Go-Outside


Dear Emma,

I still have not found the gardening tool. I am afraid that a rogue contingent of gnomes have taken it to fulfill their evil plan of world garden domination. I have my suspicions that our gnomes were actually kidnapped by this evil gnome group. Our poor sweet gnomes then suffered Stockholm Syndrome and joined the group – leading them straight back here to steal the above mentioned tool.

I will keep you informed of future developments.

I hope camp is treating you well and that no gnomes are present among your fellow campers.






I can’t believe it’s Thursday already! I miss you like crazy! Can you believe it’s almost your birthday? You’re almost fifteen!

So, the newest news is that Bear had another seizure. I woke up at five a.m. hearing her whimper. She was trapped in your room. You know how she goes in your room first thing after a seizure and wakes you up. But you weren’t there. And the door must’ve closed behind her and since she has no thumbs she couldn’t open the door. She was trapped. She made a mess of your room. She knocked stuff over and your full-length mirror fell and shattered. I got everything cleaned up okay, don’t worry, and I’ll go buy you another mirror today. So, does that mean that Bear is going to have seven years of bad luck? Or does that rule apply to dogs?

I had a weird dream last night that eight hippies broke into our house and started upcycling all our things. They ripped up our clothes and garbage bags and made necklaces and bracelets. I called the local police but they didn’t believe me. Finally, after repeatedly calling, the S.W.A.T. team showed up, but it was an Australian S.W.A.T. team. They had boomerangs and pictures of kangaroos on their shirts. I woke up before they did anything to stop the hippies, so I’ll never know for sure how an Australian S.W.A.T. team works.

I love you to the moon and back!



Dear Emma,

The tool is still missing. I’ve interrogated our remaining outside gnome. He claims to not have seen or heard anything. I’m not certain of his sincerity- once a gnome always a gnome. I’m keeping an eye on our inside gnomes Vern, Vonn and Velda. Just because they live inside does not mean they weren’t involved.

Bucket cut her nose on the fence. There is a puppy at our neighbor’s house on the left (or right, depending on where you’re standing.)Bucket whines at her. I think she wants to play. She misses you and says hi. I told her you’d be back tomorrow. She is glad. Or at least her tail is. I wish I had a tail.







I get to see you today! I can’t wait, I miss you so much!

You missed all the excitement last night. It happened again. I let Bear outside to do her business and she comes back in with a possum in her mouth. Saxon screamed and jumped up in a chair then leaped to the kitchen counter. Bear kept trying to give Saxon her ‘gift’ and Saxon kept screaming like a little sissy baby. To be fair, I did my own share of screaming, too. Plus, I riverdanced across the kitchen because I’m not nimble enough to leap on counters. I grabbed a broom and acted like a knight trying to protect my kingdom or something, I dunno, I looked really stupid I’m sure. Bear dropped the possum and it ran off and I couldn’t find it anywhere. Then I had to check the house, armed with a flashlight and a broom, before Saxon would come down off the counter. I couldn’t find the possum, but who knows? It might be waiting for you under your bed.

See? We need you back home because you’re the only brave person in our family.

I love you!



Dear Emma,

I can’t wait to see you! We have missed you so much. Last night, Bucket brought in a possum. I stood on top of the kitchen island. I am not proud.



P.S. I found the tool.


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Lies Writers Tell

Remember when David Letterman had his top ten list?



Tahlequah, Oklahoma’s claim to fame is being the home office of Letterman’s top ten list. (Besides being the home of Carrie Underwood and Mr. Ed, that is.) So, seeing as how I live in Tahlequah, I decided to make my own top ten list.

top ten


  1. My book is so good it will sell itself.

Books do not sell themselves. You have to market and market and market because like it or not, you not only created the ‘ho but you have to pimp the ‘ho.

  1. I have writer’s block.

This is an excuse writers use when they don’t have to write to make a living.

  1. A ton of people showed up at my book reading/signing.

Yeah, a ton of people if you’re counting pounds and not heads.

  1. I support and love my fellow writers.

Hanging out with other writers is akin to sleeping in a snake pit and thinking you won’t get bit.

  1. My current book is almost finished.

Didn’t you say the same thing months (or years) ago?

  1. I’m only on Facebook to promote my book.

And look at pictures of kittens. And puppies. And rant about the guy in the movie theatre, the telemarketer, or the woman in the checkout line. I also thought you might like a photo of what I had for lunch.

  1. I don’t read my reviews.

Hahahahaha. Writers read their reviews. And even if they won’t admit it, here’s what they believe: All good reviews are true. All bad reviews are wrong. It’s that simple.

  1. I dont need an editer.

That sentence is self-explanatory.

  1. I do it for the art, not the money.

If this was true you wouldn’t be selling your book, now would you?

  1. You aren’t in my book.

Everybody who has ever pissed off a writer is in their book. They’re probably the one who got killed, slapped, shot, hit on the head, knifed, etc.

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Don’t Yuck Up My Yum

It’s astounding how many tragic events I’ve lived through in the past twenty years. I’ve witnessed 9/11, the OKC bombing, Columbine, The Boston Marathon bombing, countless other school shootings, Hurricane Katrina, the L.A. Riots, The 6.8 earthquake in L.A., yesterday’s shooting in S.C., tons of earthquakes around the world… the list of world tragedies goes on and on.

I have not witnessed each and every one personally. Meaning, I was not at each location as the events unfolded. But I did see them on the TV. And on Facebook.

I wonder sometimes how I am still functioning. How am I not crazy by now? I have lived vicariously through these things and I’m not a slobbering mess in a straitjacket?

TV was fun when I was growing up. Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley, The Love Boat. Families used to sit around the TV and laugh together. Then somewhere along the line TV became angry, competitive, and had these reality shows that made fun of people and hurt people. News became 24 hours and you could watch people die in a bombing over and over and over.

Facebook also used to be fun. It was a way to connect socially with like-minded people, find old acquaintances and share some laughs. However, recently, it has become a place to rant. I read long rants by people who don’t like what somebody did in a movie theatre, or a line at the P.O. or a what telemarketer said, or that a writer of Lesfic had made a typo in their book. God forbid, a writer post a promo about their newest book in a FB group that says they want promos. And I won’t even talk about the pictures of abused dogs and cats.

I turned off my TV five years ago and haven’t turned it back on.

I don’t sign on to FB now for days at a time.

I can’t handle the tragedy, drama, stress, and anxiety those two mediums bring.

In other words, today’s media is yucking up my yum.

I wake up in the morning and I’m happy. I look out my window and see what a beautiful world I live in. I smile at my neighbors and they smile back. I do what I can to make the world a better place. I raise my daughter to be kind to everyone – regardless of gender, race, religion, sexual orientation or whatever. I write comedy and try to bring a smile to people’s faces. It might not be much, but it’s what I can do.

Knowing about world events is one thing. Wallowing in them is another. I don’t think it’s good for a person mentally or emotionally. I don’t think it’s a good thing to spend hours staring at a TV screen or a computer screen watching horror after horror after horror.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m too soft-hearted or empathic or something. But if you’re feeling depressed or stressed or anxious, maybe you should consider spending less time on FB or watching TV. Maybe you should take a walk and look at the beauty around you. Maybe you should talk to your neighbor or the person sitting next to you on the bus. Maybe you should try reading a book and being grateful that the world has these books for you.

Maybe you can do something to add some yum of your own to the world’s yuck.

I’m choosing to be happy today. I hope you do, too.

Here’s a yummy book!


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A Day In The Life With Saxon

Yesterday, Saxon received new flip flops in a UPS box. She put them on her feet first thing. Then she began to play with the packing paper. She wadded the paper into two balls and shoved them in her bra. “I always wondered what it would be like to have big tits,” she said.

“They look a little crinkly,” I said.

She gave me the finger.

About half an hour later, we decided to go to Tahlequah Lumber and buy a wheelbarrow. On the way there, we stopped at a drive-thru snowcone store. Saxon ordered blue raspberry.

As I pulled back into traffic she spilled half the cone in her lap.

When we got to the store we couldn’t find the wheelbarrows. Saxon complained loudly that nobody was helping her.

I had this moment where I looked across the store at my beloved as somebody who didn’t know her. She had extremely large crinkly tits that crackled as she moved, her crotch was soaking wet and her lips were blue.

I did the only thing I could do under those circumstances. I walked up to her and said, “I love you. You’re weird and I love you.”

She smiled. Her teeth were blue.

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Who Is Margo?

My mother is one of the smartest women I know. My whole life I have looked up to her. She’s beautiful, creative, talented, and smart. But… sometimes I have to wonder what the hell she’s thinking. Last night was one of those times.

I get a phone call. I look at the number on the ID and it’s my mom. Here’s how the conversation went –

Me: Hi, Mom. What’s up?

Mom: Help! You have to help me!

Me: (Panicked) What’s wrong?

Mom: My kindle is screwy! I’m going to throw this damn thing in the trash!

Me: (Relieved nobody’s dying or hurt) Define screwy.

Mom: I’m trying to watch Breaking Bad on Netflix and my Kindle won’t play. I’m so mad I could spit.

Me: What’s it doing?

Mom: Nothing! That’s why I’m calling you! It’s doing nothing.

Me: First… calm down. Breathe. Don’t throw it away. Let’s start at the beginning.

(I walk her through some steps to narrow down what is wrong with her Kindle. After a lot of cussing on her part I figure out that it is indeed functioning properly except for the Netflix app. This takes a good twenty minutes.)

Me: Okay, here’s my diagnosis… I think you may have set up some parental controls and you can’t watch any adult videos.

(Mom doesn’t say a word.)

Me: Does that sound familiar to you? Parental controls? Through your Free Time app?

Mom: (Tiny voice) Maybe.

Me: Did you or did you not set up parental controls?

Mom: I maybe could have.

Me: Seriously, Mom? Why would you do that? You don’t have small children in the house.

Mom: I didn’t mean to. The Kindle made me do it.

Me: (Sighing heavily) Open up your Kindle Free Time app and tell me what it says.

Mom: I can’t. Margo won’t let me.

Me: Who?

Mom: Margo.

Me: Who’s Margo?

Mom: She’s the profile on the Free Time app.

Me: Let me see if I understand. You went into your Kindle Free Time app and set up a fake profile for a child that you don’t have which you named Margo and now you are mad because the Kindle won’t let Margo watch Breaking Bad?

Mom: Maybe.

Me: I don’t know if I can help you.

Mom: Why?!

Me: Who is this Margo person? Is she the daughter you always wanted? I wasn’t good enough for you so you have to create a fictional daughter? And you actually named her Margo?

Mom: The Kindle asked me for a name. So I made one up. It’s the Kindle’s fault. I didn’t know it was going to bring Margo to life and not let her watch my programs!

Me: Uh huh, I see. Well, I have to go now. I have to make supper for my real family. Bye bye.

(I hang up. Thirty seconds go by. My phone rings. I pick it up.)

Me: Hello, Margo speaking.

Mom: Margo, it’s your mother. Would you like to watch Breaking Bad on my Kindle?

Me: Sure, Mom.

Mom: Okay, but you’re going to have to delete the parental controls on it first.

Me: Not a problem. Go the pull-down menu on the top. Click on Settings…

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WARNING: This book contains comic situations, lesbian sex and comic lesbian sex.

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Gigolo Girl Audio


Listen to me read a chapter from our newest book Gigolo Girl – available now at Amazon for only $4.99!

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Gigolo Girl

Gigolo Girl is here!

Our newest romantic comedy has hit the virtual bookshelves. If you like laughter and romance all wrapped up in one feel-good book, click here.

Hey, it’s only $4.99. For the price of one of those fancy schmancy lattes you can help send our kid to college! You can’t beat that with a stick.


WARNING: This book contains comic situations, lesbian sex and comic lesbian sex.

When Mildred’s girlfriend runs off with all the egg money, Mildred decides she has had enough of small town living. She leaves her chicken ranch behind and heads for the big city of Bon Chance, Texas. Once there, she gets a job as a gigolo girl—and pleasing sex-starved lesbians is the name of the game. She meets another gigolo girl, Desiree Hart, and falls madly in love. But it’s against company policy to date a fellow employee. Can Mildred and Desiree find true love with each other or will sex get in the way?

Making the world a happier place—one book at a time