If you’ve made it this far then you may already be asking yourself, “What fresh Hell is this?”
In retrospect, that is probably the recurring theme in my writing over the last (mumble) years. I’m glad you’re here!
What is this place?
I created Angel Who Swears in 2017 as a place to write about everyday life as seen through the absurd filter in my brain. Family, friends, aging, and the atrocities known as working for a living are just a few topics I cover. My own questionable decisions are usually front and center.
The Beginning
I was born and raised in far west Texas where I grew up with my parents, older brother, and a maid/nanny who was like Alice from the Brady Bunch only her wisecracks were in Spanish and she had a chancla in her hand in case you got out of line.
I have stories.
The Early Years
My love of writing developed early. By high school I was entertaining my friends with handwritten romance novels featuring our favorite rock stars. Classmates were impressed with loose-leaf page after loose-leaf page filled with smut as only a fifteen-year-old can write it. The teachers at my Catholic high school? Not so much…
I have stories.
That Middle Part
Eventually, writing took a backseat to real life. College, first career, marriage, a move to Oklahoma, kids, and then a new career in insurance. I was being the good girl, playing the game, toeing the corporate line, all in the name of climbing the ladder. I don’t even like ladders.
Then I found out I was completely expendable. More than once.
I did everything I was told I was supposed to do and learned that you can do everything right and still lose. I played the corporate version of Press Your Luck and got the Whammy.
Damn, do I have stories.
Abandoning The House
I wrote for three years and created a small community of readers who seemed to enjoy my ramblings.
Then, I just stopped.
Real life again. New job(s), family changes, health issues, a new house. The Swearing Angel was limited to what she could squeeze into a Facebook post now and then.
But I missed this.
Rebuilding the House
I crept back into this old house, turned on the lights, and lifted the dirty dust covers off the furniture. It was in pretty rough shape. The plumbing was completely outdated and the whole damned place was infested with bots. The decor? Two thousand seventeen called. They want their WordPress theme back.
I tore down some walls, fixed structural issues, and gave everything a good coat of paint. Some of the contents were polished up and put back on display. Some were lovingly packed away and placed in the attic. We’ll bring those back out eventually. Some were immediately thrown into the dumpster in the driveway.
We have exterminated that weird thing in the basement.
Who Dat?
I don’t write alone. I have an entire family providing material, usually without realizing they’re doing it.
There’s my husband, The Husband Dude, usually just The Dude, and our adult son, The Kid. My bonus daughter Peach and her husband Dean have given me two granddaughters, Fish and Bug.
Apparently, we select our pseudonyms like we’re about to commit a 1930s bank heist.
Lucy and Luna are the cats. They use their real names because they have no reputations left to protect.
You’ll meet everyone else when they wander into a story.
You’re Invited
I hope you’ll grab a beverage and settle in to look around. Pull up a comfy chair, as long as the cats aren’t already occupying it.
We always pull out the good china here, even if we’re wearing our stretchy pants.
Go explore the rooms, get in on the discussions, and make yourself comfortable.
If you’d like to stick around, join us at the Cookout out back. Tell your friends to stop by.
Angel Who Swears is back.
The Good Girl is gone.
Kat is home.