When I first set out to write this blog, and was asked to tie it to one of the many national observances in January, I wondered, “How am I going to do this?”
Shall I suggest a holiday called National Monkey-Toes Connors Day (tiny daughter’s birthday is in January)? Or should it be called Eight Years Ago, Meggan Connors was So Bloated Even Her Nose Gained Weight Day?
But then I found it: National Curmudgeon Day!
In my day job, I have to be perky. I say “Yay!” more often than anyone rightly should. No kidding. It often borders on obnoxious.
So when I come home, I’m all about the bah-humbug!
This past weekend, we celebrated Monkey-Toes Connors’ birthday. Seven eight-year-old girls spending the night (I had a brain cloud when I said yes to this crazy idea. That’s the only explanation I can give). Now, since I work at their school, this was a seriously crazy-town notion. Seriously. I’ve decided their teacher is an ever-loving saint, because all those little voices I normally find so charming? At one in the morning, those same voices were like pickaxes in my skull.
After a night of this, with those pickaxes recurring at 5:30 in the morning (honestly, who gets up that early on a Saturday? Who has that much energy on a Saturday? It’s wrong, man.), I was starting to feel decidedly curmudgeonly.
Get off my lawn!
Down low in my stomach, my ovaries high-fived over the fact they’d never given me multiples.
In my kitchen, my husband high-fived birth control. And then he went into the office and hid there. Pansy.
I did science experiments with those eight year olds on my front lawn in an attempt to keep them all entertained, but not blowing stuff up. The entire time, my inner curmudgeon was silently screaming: Get off my lawn! Turn that music down! Be quiet!
So, in honor of Monkey-Toes Connors’ birthday, I would like to wish you all a Happy Curmudgeon Day! Let out your inner old man. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.
And when you tell me to get off your lawn, I’ll totally understand.
Meggan Connors is an award-winning author of historicals and steampunk. Her new release, Highland Sons: The Mackay Saga (with Dawn Ireland) is available now from Soul Mate Publishing. When she’s not performing failed science experiments with a passel of eight year olds on her front lawn, she can be found searching for cute shoes on the internet, reading a book, or writing. Sometimes, you’ll find her wondering when she got so old that comfortable shoes trump super funky high heels, that music can be too loud, and dessert actually can be too sweet.
Two stories, centuries apart, connected by legacy and love . . .
Kenzie McCleod thought the witch-hunting frenzy would never find her in the Highlands. Her un-natural connection to animals and her bothersome beauty could be hidden, as long as she and her mother kept to themselves. So what had prompted her to accept the invitation of the compelling, and wickedly handsome, Laird of the Mackays.
Laird Bane Mackay knows he should marry a woman of his clan, but none have sparked his curiosity like the black-haired lass with the winning smile. Why can’t he ignore his attraction to this unsuitable stranger whose haunting violet eyes and strange abilities make him rethink magic in the world? In following his heart, he may very well bring the wrath of the Witch Pricker (hunter) down on them all.
Sharing a soul-searing kiss with the most devastatingly handsome man she’s ever met was not part of Fiona Keenan’s plan. Neither was stealing an ancient family heirloom out of his pocket.
When Cameron Mackay decides to pursue the ring, neither one of them is prepared for what happens between them. For, in a rough and tumble mining town, where everyone is a fortune hunter and a gambler, love might just be the one risk no one is willing to take.