Lois Lane Syndrome

Lois Lane – voted most likely to remain forever clueless

Lois Lane is not my favorite character. She’s touted by the other characters as a strong woman, and it’s a good thing too, because you’d never notice otherwise.

Mostly she makes poor decisions (the definition of TSTL=too stupid to live) and then when things, as expected, turn out badly for her, she hollers, “Help! Superman!” and waits around to be rescued.

She’s also allegedly an intelligent person, poor decision making notwithstanding, and yet never suspects that Clark Kent and Superman are one and the same. I watched Superman Returns the other day, and when Clark Kent returns from a long absence on the same day as Superman reappears, Lois never bats an eye.

It’s Polkaroo!

If you happened to be a Canadian child of the 80’s, as I am, then you probably watched Polka Dot Door. I remember quite vividly the moment that I realized that Polkaroo never came around when the male cast member was there, and that probably he WAS Polkaroo, even though he’d come back and say, “What, I missed seeing Polkaroo again?”

I was five years old, and I figured it out.

Lois is allegedly an award winning investigative journalist.

Yeah right.


Lois has been on my mind while I’ve been working on The Undercover Outlaw. My heroine, Alicia, has a secret identity, and I need to be sure that the hero, Logan, doesn’t come off as a victim of Lois Lane Syndrome because somehow I think it’ll be less acceptable in a big strong alpha male.

I think the key will be to not let it go on for too long. The big discovery is definitely lurking on the horizon … I’d best get back to it …


Merry Christmas!!

Wishing you all the very best of the season!




So far I’ve celebrated the season by dressing up all my unsuspecting animals in holiday costumes. No one is safe, the dog, the cat, a horse, even a rooster. Unfortunately, I didn’t find this in my barn. Hmm.






Righteous Indignation – The Reason For The Season

My facebook feed is completely filled with meme’s that rage against the use of Happy Holidays or Seasons Greetings instead of Merry Christmas. “If you’re offended by Merry Christmas, then let me say it again.” “Christmas Trees $5/foot, Holiday Trees $10/foot.” and the straight to the point “It’s Merry Christmas NOT Happy Holidays!”


I say Merry Christmas. I also say Happy Holidays. Who are these people who are offended? Do they exist, or are hyper, anxious to take offence, individuals imagining that someone, somewhere must be offended and therefore a serious affront exists and must be battled through righteous indignation in the most visible and highly annoying manner possible.

Because seriously.

I’m not about to be offended because someone says something nice to me, regardless of whether or not I share their religious views, and I can’t imagine that anyone else is either. Tell me to have a Happy Hanukkah and guess what I would say? “Thank you, same to you!”  The fact that I’m not Jewish has nothing to do with anything.

While Christmas is a very important holiday in my family, it’s significant for the family traditions that we share, not for any religious reasons. Just because Christianity doesn’t factor into the way that I celebrate doesn’t mean that the holiday is less meaningful to me,  and I’m certainly not going to be offended because I’m told Merry Christmas by someone who believes that Christ is the reason for the season.

The next time someone shares a holiday greeting with you, take it in the spirit of well wishing it was intended.

The only appropriate response is, and always will be, “Thank you.”

Happy Holidays!

Storytime with BFF

The following is an actual IM exchange between myself and my best friend.

I  gave this guy a ride home last night. Not sure what traumatised him the most about my car: the mouse poop, fast food garbage, or whips.


Me: “I hope you’re not afraid of mice.”
Him: dead silence

he is afraid. lol
how did he like chicken poopy shavings?

I didn’t point that out. He had enough to worry about. I bet he had to wash his shiny shoes and suit when he got home.

so, no second date?

Also, I bet he’s telling stories about me.

This could be the answer to the question, “Why is Celeste single?”


Of Mice and Sensibility. Or something.

I’m an animal lover through and through. A perfect day would be one spent with my horses, chickens, dogs and cats, with minimal interaction with only my favorite people to tell them the cute stories about my day with my horses, chickens, dogs and cats. And I’m pretty open minded when it comes to critters. I like snakes, bird-watch like an old lady, and catch frogs like a six year old boy. Both goats and rabbits are on my short list to add to the menagerie, and recently I’ve been obsessively researching heritage breeds of pigs.

But mice … I don’t like mice. They’re not so bad outside or in the barn – as long as they don’t run over my feet, which has been known to happen. I had a serious discussion with the barn cat after that incident.

I recently got a new (to me) car. Somehow, the mice got into it. Ugh. I told everyone, if I crash, assume it was mouse related. I deployed traps, vacuumed more in a week than I’d ever vacuumed a vehicle in my life, and stomped my feet like a mad woman at every stop light … just in case. And as scared as I was about encountering a live one, I was equally squicked out at the idea of having to empty a trap. I’m such a girl. Luckily, they apparently decided that my car wasn’t all it was cracked up to be and moved on, but not before one of them died whilst attempting to infiltrate under the back door and created an overwhelming stench disproportionate to it’s size.

So I’m a little extra sensitized against mice lately. Ugh.

And yet … yesterday I was getting the carriage out to drive my horse, and saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I investigated to find a tiny mouse cowering against the dog dish. He was a baby, barely had his fur on, and he was just cowering there, not running away from me. And me, I’m thinking, “Awww, poor little guy, I should keep him!” I had to walk away. Fast. Because I do not need to be rescuing a mouse. Luckily, by the time I put the carriage away again, the little dude was gone. Because my common sense can only overcome my “awww” response for so long.


In the last few weeks I’ve seen a few photos of myself and thought, “Wow, I look so pretty!”

It isn’t that anything changed. I haven’t lost weight, though I certainly have it to lose. My hair is the “styled” the same (ie – washed reasonably recently and brushed within the previous 24 hours – usually).  I have the same make-up … that is to say, absolutely none.

My appearance is no different than in any other photo. But these photos capture moments of joy: I’m laughing at my naughty horses while attempting to pose with our prizes at the horse show; I’ve got my arms around my friends and co-workers, celebrating the wedding of our fearless leader; I’m snuggling a wet, towel wrapped chicken and enjoying the absurdity of the moment. It’s happiness that makes me pretty.

Happy people are always beautiful.