Marathoning vs Writing

When I tell my fellow writers I just ran a marathon, they look at me like I’m crazy. I’m here to tell you that running a marathon is a whole lot easier than writing a book.

I can take any of you and turn you into a successful marathon runner. All you have to do is commit six months of your life to the training, be willing to work hard, sweat profusely, and lose a few toenails along the way. What do you get out of all of this? Pride in yourself. Statistics say that only .1 percent of the world population has ever run a marathon. Why? Because it hurts to run 26.2 miles. It’s daunting. It feels unobtainable for someone who has never run a mile. But, it can be done by anyone in reasonably good health. Anyone!

The same can’t be said about becoming a successful author. No matter how hard you work, how much sweat you profuse, or how many toenails you’re willing to lose for the cause, no one can guarantee that they will get you a traditional publishing contract.

You can become a marathon runner in six months but the average writer takes ten years to find a measure of success. A marathon runner loses weight while in training. A writer gains weight while in training. A marathon runner gets to socialize with others as they train. A writer sits in their cubbyhole alone pounding on the keys. A marathon runner gets a medal when they're done. A writer gets a book review – it might be good, or it might be bad.

So, why would anyone choose to become a writer when it’s harder than running a marathon and the success rate is less? Well, I can’t speak for the rest of you, but I can speak for myself. I write books because it’s a passion I can’t ignore.

Why do you write books?

And while you’re thinking about this and contemplating running a marathon, now that you know you can, let me leave you with a few pics of some famous marathon runners. Enjoy

Lisa Wells

William Baldwin ran the New York Marathon

The bare asses are running a marathon in France

David Elliot ran the Boston Marathon

Striving for Excellence

Since my first few books deal with elite athletes, specifically of the gymnastics variety, I thought I would post my choice of inspirational athletes. These people inspire me on so many levels. Physically, I know the amount of hard work it takes to get a body looking like this. For a time, I aspired to achieve this state of bodily perfection. I was, after all, an elite athlete myself once upon a time, long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away... For a time after I got married and had kids, I maintained my pursuit of physical perfection only to finally realize that I just didn't have that drive anymore. Exercise is a part of my daily routine, but I gave up the dream of having a dream body. Why? Because I'm striving for excellence in other areas of my life, namely, my marriage, raising my kids, and my writing career.

So, why am I posting about these individuals? For me, it's not just about the outer package, it's what's on the inside, too. Although their bodies may be a work of art, it is their pursuit of excellence in their chosen arenas that amaze me. It is their dedication that I admire. It is their positive outlook on life that I want to emulate. The state of their physical bodies is a by-product of their pursuit of excellence. One of them, I'm privileged to know on a personal level. So, without further ado, may I make introductions...


Dara Torres: At age 41, she was the oldest female Olympic swimmer ever. In her career, she's won 12 Olympic medals and 4 gold. In the 2008 Beijing summer Olympics, she won silver in the 50m free style. And besides those amazing arms, her greatest accomplishment - being a mom while doing it.







Kyle Shewfelt - Canadian Olympic gymnast and all around cutie who won gold for his floor routine at the 2004 Olympic Summer games in Athens. I met him once when he attended an event in Manitoba. Okay, so spandex doesn't do much for anybody, but along with that sculpted physique, he's got cute curls that couldn't be shown in the second photo. The second is when he's waiting to receive his gold medal.










Sidney Crosby - born in Nova Scotia, Halifax, Canada.

You Americans may have him in the NHL, but we Canadians get him back for the Olympics to win Gold! He was the Pittsburgh Penguins first draft pick back in 2005 when the team won the special lottery draft. He was 18 at the time. From what I understand he's an all around nice guy, and he's Canadian, so I had to post him. And what woman doesn't like a man who can handle his stick?






Kary Odiatu - co-author of "The Miracle of Health", motivational speaker, certified fitness trainer, Pro fitness athlete, Fitness Universe winner, mother of 3 and long-time friend. Kary and I go way back - she hired me once upon a time to coach for her, then I became her boss, and eventually we moved on to other phases of our lives. Kary continually amazes me with her high energy, positive attitude and commitment to fitness and health. Her and her husband were the first people to encourage me to publish my work.














Blaine Wilson... Oops! Sorry - I was wiping drool off my chin before it hit the keyboard. I had to post this man. He is perfection personified from his sculpted physique, the bit of scruff on his face, right on down to his very lickable tattoo. But I digress - Mr. Wilson won 5 consecutive national titles in his 22 yr. gymnastics career. He just missed the bronze medal at the 1999 World Gymnastics Championships by .001. My gymnasts and I used to drool over him back in the day, and from what I gather, these days he books speaking engagements. His fee: $5000-10,000. I'm thinking of taking out a loan, but I'm not sure his wife would appreciate me booking him for a private event. ;)





If I had time and space, I'd post 10 other photos - those of my fellow Ass Cheek Angels. You ladies amaze me daily with your humor, your drive for excellence both in your writing careers and daily lives, and with the gift of your friendship. To think that back in July, I was looking for a party to go to so I could stay awake to make my early flight home. On that fateful night, the Ass Cheek Angels was born and I got so much more than a good time. My life is truly blessed. Mwah!

These Are Not My Pants. . .

These Are Not My Pants. . .

It began as any other Saturday night before Halloween.

Children screaming, late babysitter, 36-year-old mother of two facing the age-old question, “Is this costume too slutty for me?” By the time hubby and I calmed the rugrats and made it downtown, I'd already grown distracted by the myriad of household chores left undone and the page-long grocery list left ungathered. Was I too old for this? Too boring? Was it a mistake to try to hit the hard-core social scene again? After all, the last time I went out and partied like it's 1999, it was, well, 1999.

I had nearly decided to bail when an extremely hot twenty-something guy dressed as a shirtless boxer handed me a Jello shot.

“TKO, beautiful,” he said.

“Thanks. Hey, don't you host the Bible studies group at my daughter's old pre-school?” I asked, to which he responded by putting on a shirt.

I stood alone, staring at the wobbly green “beverage” in my hand. Not that there's anything wrong with green gelatin, mind you, it's just that last time Jello shots were involved, I woke up queasy in Algiers wearing gold lamé pants borrowed from a bi-curious Brazilian male underwear model. And contrary to what my grandmother always said, it is not true that a woman can never have enough gold lamé in her closet. Brazilian male underwear models on the other hand. . .

Ah, but hark, sweet sanity! There is yet the matter of dear hubby.

Dressed as Han Solo, he nursed his beer in a corner, doing the white-man's-overbite as he discreetly danced the Humpty Hump alongside my friend Dorsey's husband. As you might imagine, the party life of a married, mid-thirties Springfield dweller is far diminished from that of a single, twenty-something New Orleanian. Saturday evening, for example, I spent a great deal of time worrying about the long-term hearing damage caused by repeated exposure to Eminem, and rather less time making out with Brazilian B-list celebrities. And, unlike the Jello shot debacle of 1999, it didn't take an act of Deus Ex Machina to end the party. I drank, I had some nachos, I sang karaoke (Britney Spears, God forgive me), then I got bored and went home. . . still wearing my own pants.

Quel dommage.

On the silver lining side of things, I did happen upon a lovely Brazilian male underwear model while “researching” my next hero.

Evandro Soldati, I raise my gold lamé party-pants in your honor. May you find a nice, Southern girl to lick your washboard abs clean of Jello shot debris.

And if you can't, well. . . I hear Springfield is lovely this time of year.

Trace Adkins: Up Close and Personal

Cowboy's Back In Town - Exclusive Deluxe Ultimate Cowboy Pack
$150.00
This is the Ultimate Trace Fan Pack! A Deluxe CD with Special Exclusive Packaging of Cowboy's Back In Town SIGNED by Trace and only available at TraceAdkins.com! The TraceAdkins.com Exclusive Cowboy's Back In Town T-Shirt and A very special Exclusive SIGNED Trace Adkins Black Straw Cowboy Hat. This is a limited time offer! All made in the USA! Order while supplies last!

Hey ladies, I have a special treat for you that sort of ties in to blog for this week. I just went to Trace Adkins' home page (www.traceadkins.com) and he's selling a special package with his autographed CD, a t-shirt, and an autographed black Stetson hat for $150.00. Although I don't have that kind of money to spare, he does have a nice little up close and personal video of him showing us how to fold the hat to look like his. It's niiiice to look at. ***sigh***

I'm trying to imbed the video but I'm not sure if it will work or not. Somebody let me know. Also...if you want to give yourselves another treat at the end of your work day, look up his song "I Still Love You" from the Cowboy's Back in Town CD. It's slow and sexual and just yummy. If your in a fighting mood, you could always listen to "Kick A Man's Ass". I love anything by him. Yum!

Bigger is Better!

Hello Angels! I want to discuss size today. When it comes to men, does size really matter? Is bigger really all that better? Well ladies, speaking from experience, I've had one not so big, and one at the other end of the spectrum, and in my opinion, bigger is definitely better.

You see, as woman who's somewhat on the tall side at 5'7", I prefer tall men. What's that? Of course I'm talking about a man's height. What did you think I was talking about? Shame . . . shame . . . get your minds out of the gutter and pay attention, girls.

You see, my first hubby was a small man with an even smaller sense of fidelity. So, I dropped his unfaithful ass, and found myself a real man. A big ole man, a little under 6'3", with a big heart, that I could look up to in more ways than one. On December 3rd, Michael and I will celebrate 16 years of a marriage I haven't regretted for one minute. I think my hubby's large size and big heart are the reason I'm drawn to big men.


I love music - especially country music - and I often use the music as inspiration for my writing. I have several male country artists that I find unbelievably attractive because of their size as well as their voices. Who can resist the deep, sultry bass of Josh Turner, the resonating tones of Trace Adkins, and the sexiness of Blake Shelton and Keith Anderson.

So feast your eyes on my delectable collection of massive, male talent...every one of them well over 6' tall,and chock a block full of sexiness and talent.

Keith Anderson

Trace Adkins

Josh Turner









Blake Shelton












Chris Young


















Toby Keith








James Otto

Boxers or Briefs?

Remember that commercial with Michael Jordon? I'm sure that wasn't the first time the boxer vs brief question was asked, but it did make the question popular.
Me, I'm a rebel. I prefer boxer briefs on my hubby. You get the best of both worlds. They're tight enough to be sexy -- because I hate that baggy boxer look -- and yet, they don't make me think of panties -- as briefs do -- when I look at them.
And because my hubby has really sexy legs and I like the way they look in boxer briefs . . . but I digress.

The first men's underwear was probably the Loincloth, a simple strip of material or leather. A loincloth was also used to describe material pulled between the legs and fastened like a diaper. Not a good look for anyone :(  Greek and Roman men reportedly wore loinclothes.

During the Middle Ages, loinclothes were replaced by loose trouser like pants called Braies. Braies were a step-in design and laced at the waist and mid-calf. Wealthy men also wore chausses. 

By Renaissance, braies became shorter to accommodate longer styles of chausses -- and chausses gave way to hose. But since neither braies nor chausses were meant to be worn beneath they weren't technically underwear.

Braies were replaced by cotton, silk or linen drawers which were worn for years and years and years. And years. I couldn't find much information on how much -- if any -- the basic design changed. However, in the mid 1800's mass production of underwear began and people started to buy their drawers instead of making them at home. The Unionsuit also became popular in the mid 1800's -- 1868 actually -- and had the drop seat in the back.

In 1874, the Jock Strap came along to provide support for the bicycle jockeys riding upon cobblestone streets.

The first underwear print ad ran in the Saturday Evening Post in 1911, an oil painting, not a picture. That would have been indecent! In WWI soldiers were issued button front shorts though they were often still worn with a union suit. (Which by the way became 2 pieces in 1910 - what we call long-johns).

By 1935 Coopers Inc. sold the world's first men's briefs, the design dubbed Jockey since it provided the support once only offered by a jock strap. 30,000 pairs of new Jockeys sold within the first 3 months of introduction. In the 1950's manufacturers began to make men's underwear from colored and/or printed material. In the 1970's and 1980's advertisers began appealing to the sexual side of selling, foregoing the long time ad practice of comfort and durability. Speaking of comfort - or lack thereof - the thong became popular in the 1990's.

So, what do you prefer on your man? Boxer, brief, thong . . . or commando?

Bad boys...oh how we love to discipline them.

Nickelback - Chad Kroeger is one hot bad boy.  Check out his stance.

‘Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do?  Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?’  Oh the notorious bad boy. What female hasn’t had some fixation on a bad boy at one time in her life?  I know I’ve had my share of twisted fantasies regarding the not so choir boy personas.



Hollywood's ultimate bad boy: Colin Farrell



Some of the classic bad boy images which flood my mind are the rocker, the tattooed covered biker, the rebellious preacher’s son, and the womanizing jock.  Oh yeah, those boys definitely knew how to raise the hair on the back of my mom’s neck to high heavens.  But I so loved them, probably more to the fact that they did ruffle her feathers.

The strong sexual pull these men tend to have over women can be nerve wracking on females' emotions not to mention their libidos.  Yet, I believe the most appealing aspect about these naughty guys is that females have a deep desire to be the ‘special someone’ to tame the demon and have him only unleashed on her and her alone.  Isn’t that why so many romance novels are so intriguing? 

Susan Johnson’s book ‘Golden Paradise’ is a classic example of such a bad boy.  The hero is an egotistical alpha male who believes he can continue his womanizing ways even after seducing the heroine.   He continually resists his growing admiration and love for her and it takes a series of dangerous and life threatening situations which forces him to face his fears of succumbing to truly giving himself to one woman.  And oh boy, when he finally loves her completely, the intensity of his emotions sparks their relationship into a deep meaningful one.

The original 'Rebel Without A Cause': James Dean

I admit that the change of heart does not always happen with all bad boys.  It can happen though. It doesn’t necessarily happen overnight but for the females who long to tame the wild beasts from others, there is hope.  Yet, isn’t half the fun of taming the beast includes riding the wild stud?  Yes, my sentiments exactly. 

So, who is a favorite wild man you’d like to tame …or not?