Lifus Interruptus =

Bloggus Interuptus.

Taking a brief hiatus while the current crisis works its way out. Long story short, both my dad and my brother are in the hospital in totally unrelated incidents. The good news is that both are going to get better.

More when I'm able to breathe.....

Bette!

Excuse the heads. Hey, I had to, so why not you?

Ha.

Yep. Took in a midweek viewing of Bette Midler's Vegas act last week...and...well...um...hate to say it, but can we spell g-e-r-i-a-t-r-i-c? I mean, I just KNOW Busby Berkeley is turning over in his grave every time Bette and her cast of dancing girls do their production number in gaily decorated motorized scooters. (Yeah, the running gag about Bette and her fans being ancient was a real scream.)

On a positive note, the woman can sure run from stage left to stage right (and back again) without losing her breath. Not sure if, given the opportunity, I could equal the feat.

Anyway, so yeah...wind beneath my wings...the rose...yada yada.

Let's be honest--she ain't no Donny and Marie (who have their own elder-magnet gig across the street).

So here's my current conclusion about Vegas: it's for the very young (Beyonce's comin' to town) or the very old and/or tragically unhip (hey, isn't Barry Manilow still at the Hilton?).

I'm pretty sure I fall into the 'none of the above' category.

Twitter Redux

Awhile back, I imported the twitter gadget into my blog, but then I got rid of it cuz I didn't like the way it looked and I wasn't "tweeting" very often so it kinda felt like why bother. So then I succumbed to the daily barrage of emails demanding to know why aren't you on Facebook, and finally set up yet another way to waste my time on the Internet. (Oh yes, come be my friend, won't you?) Anyway, then I started tweeting more often--after all, I'm a woman of few words so it's perfect for me--and discovered I could work it so that my tweets automatically went to my Facebook page.

Oh, glory!

Hence the reappearance of Twitter on my blog (see? Over there on the right?) because now, in truth, I'm killing THREE birds with one stone. Plus, I can tweet from my cell...y'know, to keep y'all TOTALLY appraised of the exciting haps in real time. (Hey, if it's good enough for Iranian protesters, well...)

Happy tweet reading, everyone. I'll try to be pithy and memorable.

Number 26

And yes, dammit, I'm counting. We who labor long and fruitless in our endeavors to become published novelists do that sort of thing.

Ah, but don't get me started on the definition of "published." Or the fact that in the eyes of RWA (Romance Writers of America), I am a published author. Big debate on that subject today, which bodes for an interesting national conference in D.C.

Spears anyone? Knives?

Oh, P.S...yes, 26 DOES refer to my 26th sale to True Romance. Yay, me.

Let's All Chip In...

Hey, folks. Wanna be roommates for the summer? At $100,000 a month, this place is a downright steal!

Click here for a tour of our seaside pad!

I've got a call into the moving van...

Dear Rite-Aid

I'm communicating with you today because I feel strongly that you should re-consider the system by which you refill prescriptions.

Just sayin'.

Now,don't get me wrong--the part where you automatically send me an email when it's time for a refill--LOVE it! And the on-line thingy where I only hafta fill in the blanks--that's pretty cool, too!

But, um...the part where you let someone else walk off with my meds? Not liking that part so much.

Case in point: Last week you notified me via email that my prescription for Vytorin was due to be refilled, so I clicked through, completed the on-line form, and received my confirmation.

So keen.

Then I stopped by on Saturday morning to pick it up..and, guess what?

Your pharmacist couldn't find the little baggy with my name on it. He searched and searched, but no luck.

So then he checked his computer, and guess what? He said, "Ah, yes. Here it is. We filled it on June 4th, and you picked it up already. Will there be anything else?"

Imagine my dismay.

No, wait. My growing concern.

Not for my OWN mental health, dammit. For his.

Because I'm QUITE CERTAIN I didn't make a trip to Rite Aid that I've forgotten. And, as I informed the pharmacist, since I'm single and have no children, no one in my family did EITHER.

Which leaves only one conclusion.

They gave my prescription to the wrong person.

Not good, huh?

(Hence, dear Rite-Aid, you're probably gettin' my drift on why I'm recommending you check into your system.)

Anyway, the pharmacist screwed around on the computer for awhile longer, trying to conjure up a facsimile of the signature in the transaction...but he couldn't make it work, and geez...the customers were stacking up...so could I move to the side while he took care of them...?

Now, if it were me (and MY JOB) I might have been a bit concerned about the implications of the situation. For instance, even though, sure--my cholesterol medication isn't gonna put anyone six feet under, we don't know what that person was SUPPOSED to be getting instead.

And here it was, two days after they'd picked it up--not to mention PAID FOR IT--and they hadn't called the pharmacy...?

Brace Yourself, Kids

Well, I mean, those of you who live in my neck of the woods. Yes, the forecast today isn't for sunshine...and it ain't for rain...no, it's for...

EARTHQUAKE.

Check it out.



I don't know about you, but when he got to the part about a shaker for Calabasas today, I donned my most fashionable hardhat and started checking supplies.

P.S. Thanks to nephew Brian for the heads-up!

Good News For Romance Writers

Click here to read the article on how romance is faring in this economy.

Oops. My bad. The link is fixed.