Last December, I was browsing craigslist and came across an ad that made my heart swoon. It was for a Quaker parrot. Immediately I told everyone (with a link, natch) “this is what I want for Christmas!”  Gil and I talked about it, we did research, and I emailed back and forth with the owner. We learned what to feed her, what sort of cage would be best, how much out-of-cage time she’d need a day, and how to keep her healthy.

Finally, I was sure I had an excellent idea of what a small parrot would need and what she would be like. We drove up to meet Riley. She was a dear! A little standoffish but I was sure it was because she didn’t know me. A few days later we brought Riley home.

Do you know what none of our research or the previous owner told us? We’d just adopted a toddler.

My empty nest is no longer empty. Every morning I awake to “squawk!” which means “Mom, let me out!” Morning is Riley and mom time. She rubs against my face and hair, grooms me and chitters to me. I’m not sure what it means but I think she’s telling me all about her day. She walks across my desk stealing anything her beak can lift. She perches on my wrist while I type and gives herself a bath.

Our road to morning bliss was not so smooth. Riley had to train me so we could find our groove. When we first brought her home she wouldn’t step up for me. Each time I gave her my finger, she’d clamp down on it, which infuriated me. In return, she’d tear up anything and everything. She was one ticked off bird.

Or she was until Poppa learned that Riley needed more than one hour out of her cage a day, which all of the books and websites recommended. If she wasn’t sleeping, then she wanted out. Now she gets the run of the house from wake up to bedtime. When the lights go off, she flaps back to her cage, crawls in her bed and goes night night.

Her previous owner also assured us that she never ate people food. Ha Ha HA! The first time she was out of her cage while I ate, she landed on my plate and took a bite of my chicken. Yes, my little feathered baby is a cannibal. Her favorite foods are chicken, egg and pasta. She also has a thing for McDonald’s french fries. Now at dinner she gets her little bites and eats with us. She also loves cherry ice cream.

*ahem*

As of yet, she hasn’t talked but she does laugh. Only when she bites you, though. Honestly, it’s hilarious unless you’re the one who was bitten. Right now, she’s over on Poppa’s desk shredding all of his papers. Occasionally she takes a break to rub her beak against his hand.

That was another unexpected find. Everything told us she’d bond with only one of us. Not Riley. She has times when she wants to be with each of us and she shares her affection equally.

If a year ago someone had told me that a 4 inch bird would be ruling my house, I’d have laughed in their face. But now our days and home revolve around her. She and our cat, Precious, chase each other even though we scold them both. Sometimes, Riley crawls in bed with us, snuggles down and takes a nap. She gives kisses and she definitely gives love.

The other day Gil and I were talking about her; about how our expectations were that she’d be a neat bird who might mimic our words and that we’d get to take her out for a bit every day and enjoy her company, but that was all. Then my big, tough husband said the sweetest words. “It’s been only three months, but I can’t believe how much…how much I love her already. She’s a people, not a pet, and I can’t imagine life without her.”

Have you ever found love and a happily ever after unexpectedly? Tell me all about your pets!

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I would have put this up the day of my book release, but someone else had it at the time, so here it is, a little late. As usual, Will is a little delusional, but then, so are many of our heroes. They tell themselves they don’t need love. Or they tell themselves they don’t DESERVE love. They tell themselves they’re big, bad boys and marriage is a mistake. Then they turn around by the end of the book and take it all back, once they grow up. I just finished watching part of an old favorite, High Fidelity (with John Cusack), where he spends an entire movie deluding himself. I just love self-deluded heroes.

Then there’s the ones who have insecurities–they’re not wealthy enough or aristocratic enough or macho enough for the heroine. My favorite one of those is Sebastian, Lord Dain, from Lord of Scoundrels, who simply cannot believe that the heroine finds him attractive.

Do you like self-deluded heroes or would you prefer they not be deluded? Who are your favorite self-deluded heroes? What is your favorite hero delusion?

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Do you like surprises? I confess I only like the good kind.

My dh surprised me last week with wedding anniversary flowers a day early. Good thing, because I’d forgotten to get him so much as a card. (The next morning I hastily made one up out of old note cards instead of making a special trip to the store to buy an expensive greeting card, which actually was better than a few years ago when I also forgot to give him a card and wrote my sentiments on a Post-it note and plastered on his bathroom mirror.)

The day after our anniversary, my riding buddies threw a surprise 50th birthday party for our trainer, with a 50’s theme complete with soda fountain, poodle skirts, saddle oxfords. hair ribbons, and an Elvis impersonator. It was great fun, and our trainer was totally surprised in a good way.

Then there are the amusing-plus-wincing kind of surprises. Years ago when dh and I returned home from our honeymoon, we found our guest bathroom toilet broken and water running all over the ceiling of the floor below. Our friends had tried to steal the seat but broke the ceramic bowl and caused a big mess. Almost as bad, our toilet seat wound up in our manufacturing plant, and we had to get a pass to take it out so the security guards wouldn’t think we were stealing plant property. To this day, we’ve never found out the names of the culprits, who could have been any of 60 people.

Actually, the toilet seat was in retaliation for the prank dh and I pulled on my neighbor when I was looking after his apartment during his honeymoon. We Vaselined all his cabinet and door knobs and let the water out of his water bed. (And I’m sure all you goddesses thought I was nice!)

Then there was dh’s 4oth birthday when I decorated our bedroom with black funeral stuff. He was not amused.

Of course I hate the nasty surprises, like the $900 bill dh got recently for a 20 minute visit to a new dermatologist who was part of a new insurance university med system. We’re still contesting that one.

I guess over all I have mixed feelings about surprises. I think I’d rather have the pleasure of anticipation. Knowing something good is coming up helps get me through the daily grind. And if something bad is coming my way, I really don’t want to know about it until it happens!

Do you like surpirses? What’s the best surprise you’ve ever gotten? The worst? What surprises have you given, and were they good or bad?

(Oh, and this is the perfect time to announce our big surprise for Valantine’s Week — our 3rd anniversary of The Goddess Blogs!  We welcome your comments below!)

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Rules of the game:

1) Enter as many times as you like, but only one idea per post.

2) The grand prize will be a galley of my next book, LOIS LANE TELLS ALL, a fast-paced romantic comedy filled with (a tiny amount of) danger and (tons of) excitement, set in the small town of Glory, NC, to be released March 30th.

3) Prize will be selected by my beloved mum who will read all of the entries and name her favorite. Trust me on this: she has a wonderful sense of humor.

4) My mum is going to read this, folks, so keep it clean! (Well, pretty clean, anyway. Heh!)

That’s it! And now, for your delectation . . . the photo:

Good luck, goddesses! Now, CAPTION THAT PICTURE!

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My family may kill me after this since I plan to share some of their deepest, darkest, personal, most intimate secrets: their nicknames.

Let me start by saying I like most nicknames. Often they’re a sign of affection and/or shared history. My dad was a champion nicknamer. He used to come up with these long convoluted phrases that had little meaning except to us.

My childhood nickname was AggalitiesBumuntly (don’t ask me how I got that cause I haven’t a clue!), which got shortened to Aggie and is still used by my family to this day. My sis’s long name is unpronounceable but her short one is Miggie. And my 6′2″ 220 # ex-Army-Ranger-Vet bro was known as Binky when he was a kid. We still get a kick out of that. Even more amusing is that his wife’s childhood nickname is Linky. Binky-Linky. Wonder if fate was at work there?

My dh I call F.P.  but I can’t share what the initials mean in public or he really would kill me. It’s not bad, just silly and affectionate. I’ve always called my mother Moggs, which also expresses love, even though a stranger would never think so. I call my new little computer laptop Netbook “Junior” to differentiate him from my office laptop, which by default must be Senior.

My gorgeous 17-hand Irish Thourougbred jumper I named Irish Outlaw after the Western romance I was writing at the time. But he became Bestest Favorite Pony. I use Pony when he’s in my good graces and Big Twit when he’s not.

My young Warmblood hunter mare was registered as Rivella at birth because of her long championship breeding (names in her sire’s line all start with RIV.) But since dh thought that sounded too much like the wicked stepsister in Cinderella, we shortened her barn name to Riva and use Cloud Nine as her show name, after one of dh’s favorite ski runs. She’s Pretty Filly when she’s good, and something unprintable when she’s bad.

My equine trainer is wonderful at coming up with names for horses in her barn…. such as Pop Tart (he loves to eat them), Hey Bartender (a play on his owner, who doesn’t drink,) and Area 51 (the owner’s scientist dad worked at Roswell.) And her pet goat is named Alverson, Alvie for short.

Then there’s my father-in-law’s nickname for my nephew, which isn’t pretty. How would you like to be known as Stinkbutt to your friends? Or maybe you have something that can top that? 

Also, I should mention that I’m offering a nifty prize for my January website contest to celebrate the release of To Tame a Dangerous Lord, and there are only a few more days left to enter. I would love for one of our Goddesses to win!

Do you go by any nicknames — and do they have any significance? Do you have nicknames for other people or pets? What’s the best and worst nicknames you’ve ever heard (please remember to keep it clean or Zeus will zap me!)

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Its time for another Fun Contest Saturday! This month we have THREE releases to celebrate. It’s a Mt. Oly reading-palossa! This past week Sabrina gave us The Truth About Lord Stoneville. This coming Tuesday Madeline will deliver Ravishing in Red and Nicole will offer us To Tame a Dangerous Lord.

This month we’re going to play one of my favorite games. We’re going to write The Truth about The Ravishing Lord one sentence at a time.

Here are the rules:

• You may add as many lines as you’d like to but add only one line at a time.
• Please allow at least one other person to add a line after you.
• Please be a good sport and go with the flow of the story.
• You must include one word from one of the three titles or one of our Goddesses names in your line. Those words include the, truth, about, lord, Stoneville, ravishing, in, red, to, tame, a, dangerous, duke, Sabrina, Madeline or Nicole.
• Each contributor’s name will only go in the drawing one time.
• The contest ends at Midnight EST, Saturday, January 23.
• One winner will be chosen at random and announced on Monday, January 25.

The prize you ask? We’ll award one winner an awesome packet of books. She’ll win signed copies of To Romance a Charming Rogue by Nicole Jordan, Beware a Scots Revenge by Sabrina Jeffries and The Sins of Lord Easterbrook by Madeline Hunter!

To kick off  The Truth About The Ravishing Lord, here is the beginning of the story: Even from across the crowded ballroom, I could see the truth in his eyes. Lord Marly was the one guilty of ravishing Madeline.

Have fun ladies!

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I confess I’ve only seen a celebrity in the flesh once, and I’m not completely certain it was her, but I would swear I saw Peri Gilpin (who played Roz on Frasier) in the airport in New Orleans years ago. I considered asking her if it was her and telling her I was a fan of the show and her work, but I was too chicken. Plus, I couldn’t remember her real name–just her character name.

My FATHER, on the other hand, introduced himself to Muhummad Ali in an airport, so he could argue with him about things Ali had said in the media. I wasn’t there, but my younger brother was, and he wanted to kill my dad. He just wanted Ali’s autograph. Both my brothers have met way more celebrities than I have. I guess I’m never in the right place at the right time. Plus, writers spend most of their time cooped up in their office–hard to meet celebrities that way.

Okay, so tell the truth–have you ever seen a celebrity in the flesh? What did you do? Was it a good experience? Bad? Did you get an autograph? Can I have it? (okay, just kidding)

P.S. my new librarian action figure, complete with library and book cart, was a gift from Lynn Eyermann. Thank you, Lynn!! I love it!

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