Writer? Archeologist? Special Agent? DIY-er From the Wrong Side of the Tracks?

If I wasn't a writer...

...that's tough because I have so many interests. Let's go through the iterations of my past career dreams. Fascinating? Well, you might as well finish. You've committed!

When I was little I probably just wanted to ride horses, likely in the circus. Then I wanted to be an archaeologist, but a summer spent at an archeology camp convinced me my allergies were too bad for any outside job. Indiana Jones must have taken allergy shots. And all that tedious dirt scraping only uncovered bits of pottery, never the Ark of the Covenant. Which is probably good because likely opening such ark would have melted my face off, if the movies have taught me anything, and my allergies were doing a bang-up job of melting my face off already. So not the glamourous life I imagined. Though I did teach myself to read and write Egyptian hieroglyphics, a skill I taught to my friend and then spent much time in high school writing "coded" hieroglyphic notes back and forth. Because we were Cool Kids. (not) So yeah...time well-spent.

Then I wanted to be an FBI special agent!! But being nearly legally blind uncorrected (and they didn't accept Lasik back then) killed that dream. Oh, and I'm quite sure there were some questions on that entrance application that I would rather have not answered.

...Which brings me to criminologist! Or a criminal psychologist--a profiler! WAY back before that shit was cool. That one held me for a long time, including minoring in criminology in college.

Secretly I really always wanted to be a writer, but that's against the rules of this assignment, so if I could be anything today, it would be....

Someone who makes things out of other things. (Do I sound like the guy from Say Anything?)

I would either be a fashion designer because I love to sew and create things, or maybe a purse designer, lingerie designer, something like that. No, I think I'd flip houses!! Not for the money so much as the fun of improving it and turning a dump into something people want. Or I'd have my own business decorating or making and selling furniture I'd salvaged, repurposed or improved. I just love that shit. Hence my preoccupation with thrift stores. I tell people it's my way of being thrifty and green, but it's really due to my selfish desire for the pride I feel when I point to something and go--hey, that was once someone's trash and now it's this glorious thing I made!

As illustration, here's a $15 iron St. Vincent DePaul outdoor table that I upcycled (<--fancy word for "spray-painted") to use in my Master Bedroom. Sorry, I haven't had time to style it yet with a candle or a small, decorative pile of books and a picture frame or something, but still--much improved, huh? :)

$15 thrift store outside table BEFORE...

Chic brass, blingy masterpiece following one can of spraypaint AFTER!

Yeah, there's that pride.

What makes YOU feel that pride? Is it your current job, the way you live your life, or maybe one of your hobbies? Leave me a comment!

It's Friday Bitches!!!

It's Friday! It's Friday!

Let's do something really fun...like crack open a beer or a bottle of wine and read some Cabal of Hotness sizzling romance! (Can you crack open a bottle of wine? Ah hell, we'd figure out how to do it. I'm picturing the Cabal stranded on the desert island everyone keeps talking about with bottles of wine and no corkscrew. Oh we'd get those bottles open, don't you worry.) But I digress.

I am standing at my kitchen island making empanadas...the dough and everything. Chicken & chorizo empanadas (I'm thinking Bootay Hotness would appreciate this--though I suppose in Jamaica they call them...pasties? No patties, right? They don't go on your boobs. Unless your man has a meat pie fetish, and let's face it, I have a SERIOUS meat pie fetish and would gladly eat them off any of you.) :) But I digress. Again.

Cooking is just one of my outlets. And I need it right now because I've had a rough week. My basement flooded, I'm so behind at my day job that I might lap myself at this point, and I got NO writing done at all. That sucks for my poor menage trio who are itching to GET IT ON again. And again. Horny bastards (and bitch--can't forget my girl Evie. She's a tough chick to hold her own with Ford and Charley!)

But you know what this rough week reminds me? That I have friends. The ladies of the Cabal aren't just my "business partners", they're my support group, my safety net, my gang who's got my back. (This is the moment where Cajun Hotness pulls a razor blade from inside her cheek and asks, "Naughty Hotness, tell me who I gotta cut!" It's nice to have friends like that.)

I am so thankful for this INSANE group of women. There have been so many times that one of us has freaked out, threw in the towel, "I can't do it! You guys go on without me!" and they refuse. We often say, once you're in the Cabal, you're in for good, like it or not. It's like the mob, only more fun. 

We confess the things to each other that you'd never tell another human being...and it makes us feel better. For most of us, this writing is a labor of love. We can't say we support ourselves doing it, but sometimes it pays for our kids' sports fees, or a dinner out! Sometimes it just pays for that bottle of bottom shelf tequila we need to get us through that month. But we never give up. It's a passion. 

So support my ladies--for a few bucks you get to live someone else's sexy, crazy life in the books the Cabal writes. Find one you haven't read yet and give it a try, knowing that you're supporting an amazing group of women who are dedicated to making this writing thing work.

And I'll remind you--it's FRIDAY!! Take a deep breath and have a great weekend. :) 

Kisses and licks,

Piper Trace, aka Naughty Hotness