Randy Writes Romance

Flashback Friday--Veteran's Day

2011-11-11T09:49:00.000-08:00

As you can see, I posted this in 2009--read to the end for the updated twist.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Always In Our Hearts

Blanche, Bob and Bruck (my dad)

Earlier this year, I had a very unique Google experience. My father, a WWII pilot, asked me to see if I could confirm the precise date on which his best friend had been killed during the war. Armed with just a name, I clicked on a link that took me to a page containing photographs of a cemetery. Specifically, a young man stood next to a cross. Knowing Google, I wasn’t sure of the significance−if any. There wasn’t a visible name on the cross and, at best, I figured a random American had taken the picture to honor the nameless dead.

I continued my search, but I kept going back to that page...until, suddenly, my mouse hovered in just the right place and I saw that the picture had a title−Robert B. Pfusch by Chris Yunker.

Still a random American?

Maybe not.

Somehow I contacted Mr. Yunker (via his flickr account, I think) and told him why I was writing. Sure enough, he replied immediately with the news that Robert B. Pfusch was his grandfather and that he would forward my email to his mother.

I was rather blown away since I’d assumed Mr. Pfusch had died without having children.

Soon, I had an email from Bobbie, the daughter who was born six months after her father was killed overseas. She asked if my father had known her dad well.

In reply, I wrote her a lengthy letter of what I knew, including the fact they’d been fraternity brothers back in North Dakota. When she read my response, she realized that my dad was the man in her parents’ wedding photograph−their best man. She said she cried throughout my letter.

What followed was a back-and-forth correspondence between two daughters of WWII vets−one who never knew her father and one who was exceedingly grateful to have had so many years with hers.

On this day that we honor our veterans, I’d like to pay special tribute to Robert B. Pfusch and the sacrifice he made so many years ago.

He is not forgotten.

Edited to Add:

Four months after I wrote and posted the above tribute to Bob Pfusch, I found myself having open heart surgery--to be specific, I had my aortic valve replaced. During my research prior to surgery, I got involved with a forum on a valve replacement website and, in particular, traded emails with a helpful young woman named Luana.

After surgery, I wasn't so quick to get back on the forum to report my success and good health, and Luana worried.

When I finally posted that all was well, she sent me the most amazing email.

Randy, she wrote, when you didn't post a progress report, I sent a prayer request to an on-line group I'm involved with. One of the participants wrote back asking if, by chance, this Randy's last name happened to be Bruskrud. Her name is Bobbie.

Yes, the paths of two veterans' daughters crossed again. This time, as one prayed for the other.

Small world, indeed.

Rant Alert

2011-11-09T11:28:00.000-08:00

Today's post ain't about neither writin' nor romance, so if that's why you're here, best to move on.

Ready? Set? Go!

Okay, people. WHY do big companies make it so friggin difficult to conduct the basic tasks of commerce now that we have the Internet?

Case in point: Exostar. This wonderful byproduct of the e-era (my new term since everything either has to have an e or an i before it these days) was ostensibly put in place to streamline the procurement process for companies like Boeing, Lockheed, and Raytheon.

But, seriously? How come it takes forever to create a simple invoice? And how come I have to tell the Boeing buyer that she has to input her purchase order CORRECTLY before we can create that simple invoice? (And how come I haven't heard back from her since I did that?) So...and this is just a small example, we have yet to be paid for a $9,000 invoice from last August.

Moving on to Boeing. Hey, Boeing...thanks for letting us have milestone payments on that big job. Sure would have been nice if you'd actually PAID them as we went along (y'know...in keeping with the whole concept of MILESTONES). Silly us for heeding the instructions on the Purchase Order which said to invoice that snail mail address in Seattle. No wonder you haven't paid ANY OF THEM since June. My bad!

And while we're on the subject of Boeing, thanks for that 12-pages of instructions on how to invoice through your Boeing portal (which requires not one but TWO usernames, TWO passwords, TWO separate accounts). And...um...just checking...but isn't that what Exostar is for? Are you saying we have to invoice in two places?

Because we will, if that's what you want...cuz, after all, YOU'RE the CUSTOMER and the CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT.

We don't even mind that your payment terms are NET 60 because we understand that with this new STREAMLINED system, it's hard for you to pay for stuff that used to take you NET 10 in 1975. (And at least you're not the slowpoke of companies--that award goes to Honeywell who needs 75 days to process an invoice.)

Don't get me wrong, we love this whole new world of electronic procurement on Exostar. We love it so much we actually PAY THE BILL for doing business with you. Yes, that's right. We pay about $500 a year for the CONVENIENCE of receiving your purchase orders and issuing our invoices.

It's all working out so well, isn't it?

Flashback Friday--NaNo of Yore

2011-11-04T09:01:00.000-07:00

Hey, since it's that time of year (and yes, I AM doing NaNo), I'm flingin' a NaNo post from 2006. Enjoy.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

NaNo Week Two

Okay, clearly, the NaNo guys aren't mathematicians, 'cuz that widget thingy I imported ain't working right. Here I was merrily typing along, admittedly smug, and relying on the widget thingy for accuracy--I thought I was staying ahead of the game. But, nooooooo. If you do the calculations, I'm apparently consistently BEHIND.

Permit me to do it for you:

I need to average 1666 words a day to reach 50,000 in thirty days. Today is the ninth day so by tonight I should be at 14,994 if I wanna stay on track. But it already shows me in the plus column! Which, like I say, ain't right. In fact, I have to write roughly 2774 words to catch up.

Yikes. You know how many manuscript pages that translates to??? Well, I'll tell ya. It translates to roughly eleven. CURSE the guy (or girl) who came up with whatever formula's behind that widget thingy.

In other NaNo news, today I'd like to discuss the main drawback to performing this exercise. See, for my money, balls-out writing fosters lazy writing. And man, I'm doing a ton of it. In some cases, I don't worry--like if I'm rolling along and run into a blank for a good metaphor, I just type a long underline and move on. Or, say I encounter a new character and need a name--I grab the first one that comes to mind. That's the kind of stuff that's easy to fill in or change later. But other stuff--like all those "was" sentences...they make me nervous. Once I write something, I have a helluva time imagining it written another way. Well, that's not entirely true. I can re-work it, re-structure it--but in doing so, I run the risk of forcing it into something awkward. Hate when that happens. If you'll remember a post from a couple weeks ago, I can spend an hour on one sentence, so the prospect of of spending an hour on each sentence of the manuscript makes me queasy as hell.

Still...it's nice to think that at the end of the month, I'll have a pretty good grasp of the story. Not the entire book of course, because even after 50,000 words, there will still be about another 30,000 to write. (How depressing is that?)

I keep reminding myself that, according to legend, Lani Diane Rich wrote a NaNo novel, spent a year editing it, then voila: "Time Off For Good Behavior" and a Rita Award.

Yep, it could happen to me.

Things That Go R-r-r-r-ring in the Night

2011-10-25T10:01:00.001-07:00

So I'm in the middle of a dream...something about being held captive by a rather handsome bad-boy from whom an old high school guy friend is trying to free us. Then that escapade is suddenly over and I'm reading a report of prescriptions I've used. (Sidenote: WTF?)

Suddenly the doorbell rings.

The dream, I think.

Or was it?

Is there anything worse than waking from a dream to wonder if what woke you was part of the dream or based in reality??

I don't move a muscle, remaining as silent as possible while my heart beats out of my chest.

No sound.

I picture myself coming in from the grocery store earlier with bags under each arm. I picture that flick of the lock that didn't quite engage all the way.

Is my front door securely LOCKED???

Finally, after ten minutes, I tip toe to the extra bedroom--the one with a window overlooking the driveway and street. (Naturally, I can't get real close to it since there's a host of computer debris standing in the way.) Careful not to make any noise, I twist the blinds open and bend into an interesting contortion in order to look outside.

Nothing I can see but fog...but then my roof obscures much of the view.

Decide to bite the bullet and creep downstairs where I peer through the peephole. (Is there a more useless invention?? I can't make out SHIT through that thing.)

Meanwhile, I wonder if someone is standing silently on the other side of the door.

Thump, thump, thump. (That's my heart, not the possible doorbell ringer.)

In the darkness, I do the Helen Keller thing, waiting to feel the familiar shape of the deadbolt. Seems to be in the proper position.

I stealth my way back upstairs and sit on the bed. Think about posting something on Facebook but don't wanna freak out people on the east coast who might be up reading it.

Don't turn on the TV because I wanna be able to hear every last sound.

The minutes drag on...then they turn to hours...and I finally fall asleep, only to wake up late for work.

Sometimes it SUCKS to be single.

Flashback Friday

2011-10-21T14:27:00.000-07:00

From October in 2007

25 Other Letters--Pick One

Years ago, back in another lifetime, I worked for the company that syndicated The Richard Simmons Show (yes, darlings--it was my big brush with, er, "celebrity").

Anyway, I handled the 10 million dollars worth of advertising placed with us, and we retained 2-1/2 minutes of of commercial time, so that meant placing 5 spots somewhere in the show each day, five days a week, for the period of the buy which was 3 months. Simple, right? Except our biggest account was General Foods, and their contract stipulated a specific requirement: no bumping up next to other ads that would make the consumer go, "euw"...

In other words, no scheduling our Preparation H commercials to lead into Cheerios.

Which got me to thinking yesterday...here in California we have something on the ballot called Propostion H. Now, without even knowing what it's about, I'm not sure I can vote for something called Proposition H. I mean, couldn't they have picked another letter? Every time an ad comes on for it, I start laughing and I miss what the issue is.

Do Writers Dream Differently?

2011-10-20T09:11:00.000-07:00

"Other people's dreams," my father used to tell me, "are the most boring stories in the world."

Well, folks. Prepare for boredom--'cuz I just have to write this one down.

So there I was, gambling at a (non-existent) local casino, playing slots. All of a sudden, my machine froze, bright lights blinked on and off, and a sign flashed "BIG WINNER."

Clearly, I'd hit something huge. Now, this being a dream and all, I couldn't quite make out HOW huge. I kept trying to count the numbers...place a comma or a decimal point somewhere. The best I could make out, I'd either won hundreds of dollars or thousands.

Being a seasoned gambler, I waited patiently for the gaming clerk to arrive for the payout. Eventually, a young woman showed up, asked for my I.D., and departed to obtain my winnings.

She returned with my I.D. and a small envelope. I peeked inside, retrieved a check and zeroed in on the amount: EIGHTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!

Yikes! (In my dream state, I'm pretty sure my heart rate skyrocketed.)

Meanwhile, I called Ann and Marty, telling them to get down to the casino--exciting things were happening. I pulled out the check again, to bask in all its glory and discovered...huh?? Wha...happened? Instead of seeing MY name as the Payee, I saw "Delores Willings."

After a brief moment of panic, I calmed down. Mistakes happen, I reasoned. Somehow they typed in the wrong person's name. Immediately, I set about trying to rectify the situation, starting with using the "need service" button on the slot machine.

When that didn't summon anyone, I went in search of "security," and found myself re-routed several times. Finally, Ann and Marty showed up and I reached inside my purse to show them the check...only THIS time, only the stub was left.

The check was GONE!

Another mysterious turn of events!

After mulling the situation over, I figured out the nefarious scheme to which I'd obviously been subjected--the old I.D. switcheroo. To wit: when I sent my I.D. with the casino clerk, this Delores chick somehow intercepted the transaction, substituting HER I.D. for mine so that the check would be made out to her. Then she stole the check from my purse (not sure why she left the stub).

If my theory were to prove correct, I would now discover my I.D. missing...and sure enough, it was gone. Because, I reasoned, the one returned to me was not mine but Delores's. And along with the 80 thousand smackers, she'd retrieved her I.D.

Totally bummed, I finally located the Head of Security. With a sad smile, he reached inside his breast pocket and produced my driver's license.

"Looking for this?" he asked.

End of dream.

Weird, huh? Pretty detailed. And a handsome show of analytical powers, eh?

Lose It!

2011-10-18T09:38:00.001-07:00

Hey, remember my FIVE FOR FALL quest? This week I downloaded an APP to my Droid to make things more interesting. It's called "Lose It!" and--best of all--it's free!

Yeah, yeah, yeah...I know we've all done the food logs, the exercise logs, the calorie counting. But this APP actually makes it kinda fun!

First you enter all your info--gender, age, weight, goal, etc. Then it even asks you how many pounds you wanna lose per week and by when, taking that data and calculating how many calories you can have per day.

Next you start entering your intake, and this is the interesting part. For instance, at lunch I eat one of Amy's organic burritos. It asks me: "Search for food?" Or "Scan barcode?" Why, SCAN BARCODE of course, because how much FUN is that? Ding ding, click click, shutter snap and voila! All the nutrition for my burrito shows up on my phone and it's one keystroke from there to put it into my daily total. Better yet, I only have to do it once--when I eat an Amy's burrito again, I just call it up from my food list.

Meanwhile, my daily log automatically updates to display how many calories I have left for the day.

And, yep. When you enter exercise, it adds calories available back in! (Talk about visual incentive for hopping on the ol' Dreadmill!)

So I suppose y'all are waiting for an update on my progress since announcing my Five For Fall quest here. Um...well...as of yesterday, I'd lost about two pounds.

Today they had returned.

:(

Hey I'm no newbie at this. I know weight fluctuates--and I also know my ancient scale is slightly demented.

I shall persevere!!!

Not What I'd Call Progress

2011-10-11T12:54:00.000-07:00

I said stay tuned, didn't I?

Well, fell free to change the channel cuz I ain't got nuthin' to report. Oh, I tried. Truly, I did.

On Saturday morning when I'm more apt to have...say...spaghetti...or popcorn maybe...for breakfast, I had friggin' oatmeal. And may I say there's something about eating it at home that turns it into a 3-slurp meal? (What's up with that?)

For lunch I had a half a sandwich, not a whole one.

And then...okay...the big downfall. Blogreader Joe took me to my favorite restaurant for a belated birthday dinner. BUT. We split EVERYTHING. Doesn't that count at all?? Half a Caprese salad, half an order of steamed-friggin-broccoli, half an order of salmon...half an order of garlic mashed potatoes...okay, so maybe that last bit did me in. (Not to mention the signature dessert BUTTER CAKE with fresh whipped cream they brought for free on account of Blogreader Joe being so testy about things.) Still...when I would have had an Irish coffee, I ordered a Vodka tonic instead. Doesn't that mean anything to the Diet Gods???

Okay, so how about the 20-less-calorie per slice whole wheat bread I bought. Or the 10-calorie crap masquerading as healthy mayo?

Oh! Oh! And I only had ONE serving of everything at Ann's house for dinner on Sunday night and--much to her consternation and dismay--I PASSED on what she called CAKE "that's really very light."

HOW ABOUT THE FACT I SKIPPED DINNER ALTOGETHER ON FRIDAY?

Huge sigh.

Yep. You guessed it.

For the week...................I GAINED ONE POUND.

Obviously, more desperate measures are called for.

Flashback Friday

2011-10-07T09:14:00.000-07:00

Wow...today the random date generator takes us far back into the earliest days of my blog! February 11, 2005 to be precise. That seems like FOREVER ago, doesn't it?? So without further ado...here's what was going on in the mind of Randyland back then....

Shhh...Don't Tell Anyone...

...but, I love the rain.

Hey, I’m born and raised in Southern California where every damn day looks like the next, so give me a break. You know how sleep deprivation makes you hallucinate? Well, too many sunny days in a row has the same effect. People need a little down time from all that relentless cheer. It wouldn’t be so bad if we had those puffy white things they call clouds. But noooooo….nothing but blue skies for days on end. Enough to drive a person nuts.

Don’t get me wrong. Southern Californians are an embarrassment when it rains. All the local TV stations go on STORM WATCH (in that James Earl Jones kinda voice), we drive too fast (or too slow) and we still dress in t-shirts and shorts. Umbrellas? Raincoats? What are they for? By the time we could dig them out from under the bellbottoms and platforms, the rain’s over so why bother?

Don’t be fooled by the Rose Bowl telecast—our weather is simply not what it’s cracked up to be. Sure, we can surf in the morning and snow ski in the afternoon, but who needs all that sun and exercise? Certainly not Southern Californians who spend half their time in the gym and the other half in the tanning salon.

Yes, rain spells relief from 365 days of pure monotony, and the only people who bitch about it are transplanted New Yorkers and homeowners with leaky roofs.

One more thing…Betcha don't know the best part about Southern California rainstorms, do ya?...Give up? Okay, I'll spill: when they're over, for at least three or four days, the L. A. River actually contains water.

Five For Fall

2011-10-06T12:54:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I realize the title of this blog is Randy Writes Romance, but hey. It's MY blog. Deal with it.

Five For Fall refers to my current mantra...as in, my commitment to lose five pounds per month (roughly over Fall--hence the name) before my next cruise. I mean, really. Clearly, that's an obtainable goal, right?

I plan to use my blog to report in on all the little things I'm doing to get there. Er, as you can see, I'm a little late in beginning, but oh well.

On Monday, I hit the treadmill (first time in weeks) for 25 minutes. At my stepmom's house for dinner that night, I drank one small glass of wine instead of two. Oh, and I ditched the scoops of tuna (loaded with mayo, no doubt) on my Subway salad. (By the way, my new go-to for fast food! The Subway salad bar.)

On Tuesday, let's see...I'm sure I took another fabulous step toward slimosity. Ha. New word. Can't remember what it was, though.

Last night, I DRAGGED myself onto the treadmill again, DESPITE coming up with excellent excuses to avoid it just moments before. AND, during the workday, I continuously walked back and forth past the most DIVINE smelling bagels a vendor had brought in.

Today I skipped oatmeal for breakfast. Yeah, I know...that's the wrong direction, but still. Less calories! (I'm in that obstinate minority who refuses to believe in the whole eat-more-often-to-keep-the-metabolism-going group.)

So there you have my progress thus far. Five measly pounds a month is all I ask. Trust me, fifteen pounds by late December would make ALL the difference in what clothes I take along to the Caribbean.

Stay tuned....

Ashley's Homecoming Night!

2011-10-04T09:21:00.000-07:00

For my friends and family not on Facebook, we now take a break from our regularly scheduled program (ha--if indeed I was blogging regularly or on any kinda schedule) to bring you photos of my great-niece Ashley on the night she was crowned Homecoming Queen!

Ashley and brother Jake

Left to right: Proud grandmother Polly with arm around little brother Zac, mother and former Homecoming Queen herself Jamie, Ashley, dad Jon, brother Jake, and aunt Mindy

Flashback Friday

2011-09-30T11:39:00.001-07:00

Okay, folks...how many of you remember THIS post from June 13, 2005 (courtesy of the random date generator)? It's interesting to note that I left out a significant detail...that his guy was a semi-famous comedic actor from a well-known sitcom....

A Single Romance Writer Laments

Okay, picture this:

I’m at a bar with some friends when I run into a guy I’ve met on a couple other occasions. Let’s say that on the male version of the Bo Derek scale for looks he rates about a 6.5. However, he’s bright, entertaining, stable and single—in other words, possesses the minimum qualifications for dating material. One of my friends even claims the guy has a “thing” for me.

So, he goes to say good night, leans over to give me a kiss and whispers: “I’d sure like to sweat all over you.”

????????????

I don’t even remember what kind of reply I sputtered.

Then he says, “What kind of lingerie do you have at home?”

????????????

How does a well-educated, successful man arrive at the conclusion that these are good come-on lines? Trust me, I’ve done nothing to make him think I’m the town slut.

Then, beginning to wonder, I think: Uh-oh. He knows I write romance novels.

In some people’s minds, this translates to: She writes about sex.

So is that what prompted the pathetic stab at a pick-up? Does he imagine he’s just lifted a piece of dialogue from one of my books?

All I can say is, eeuuuuwww.

On the other hand, if the guy were a “10,” I might have said, “you’re place or mine.”

(Okay, just kidding about that last part. Maybe.)

Flashback Friday

2011-09-16T09:50:00.001-07:00

No Flashback Friday, folks...because (here's a flashback for ya)...I'm in Puerto Vallarta celebrating my birthday!

Sneak Peek!

2011-09-12T11:50:00.000-07:00

Geez, do you realize how easy it would be to misspell one of those words in that title?? I'm about 99% sure I got it right.

Anyway, so guess who's been busy updating her wardrobe...er, I mean...website?

Exactly! Me!

I still plan to add some fun stuff like, Where In The World is Randy, and DAMN, I'm having a helluva time figuring out how to redirect my old one to the new, but for now...

Voila.

www.randyjeanne.blogspot.com

(Crap. Nothing's working right today--that link is supposed to be underlined and in blue. Just trust me and click on it, 'kay?)

Flashback Friday

2011-09-09T07:25:00.000-07:00

Not difficult to choose an old post for today's Flashback Friday. As the tenth anniversary of that fateful day approaches, I'd like to re-visit the post below.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007 (Updated)

Never Forget

My first memory of Mike was when he sat down beside me in a crowded economics class circa 1972. He wasn’t hard to miss, nor forget. A portly guy with an easy smile, a ruddy face, and vacant blue eyes.

His guide dog sat obediently at his feet.

I didn’t really meet Mike until four years later in a graduate seminar in Interpersonal Dynamics. We’d been assigned to the same group and would spend an entire quarter on a project designed to teach us how to work effectively as a team. The task was to pick a project—as banal as putting together a volley ball game or having a dinner party—then observe the process of how we went about doling out tasks, assuming leadership roles, dealing with conflict, and so forth. All skills to be used later when we entered the world armed with freshly-minted MBAs.

Besides Mike and me, our group consisted of an older Asian female mom, a transfer student from Spain, a highly-charged Type-A male, and an easy going young man who always went with the flow.

For some reason, we didn’t take an easy path toward satisfying the requirements of the class. We didn’t just plan a dinner—we planned a 24-hour, overnight stay, at my parents’ house up in Lake Arrowhead.

I’ll never forget our arrival. Instantly, as Mike and his dog stumbled into furniture and as the toddler (brought by the Asian mom along with an adult sister) yanked everything in sight off tables, I questioned the wisdom of having invited this motley crew to my folks’ pristine home. But in the end, we all settled down, accomplished our task, and at the end of the quarter received an A on the paper that I mostly wrote.

Twenty-seven years would pass before I saw Mike again. This time on television. Larry King, to be exact.

A couple days after 9-1-1.

Do you remember the story of the blind man who walked down 78 floors to get out of the first tower?

My old friend, Mike.

Read the riveting account of how Mike escaped on that fateful morning here.

***Edited today, September 9, 2011, to add that Mike has written a book titled Thunder Dog: The True Story of a Blind Man, His Guide Dog, and the Triumph of Trust at Ground Zero. Here's the link at Amazon.

Ground Zero, January 2002.

Labor Day--Better Than New Year's?

2011-09-05T10:19:00.000-07:00

Lots of people wait for January 1st to formulate resolutions, but for me, Labor Day's all about new beginnings. Even at 57 (soon to be 58!!), the last holiday of the summer brings back memories of anticipation. Anticipation of a new school year, which meant:

New clothes
New teacher
New subjects
New students
New notebook

New NEW NEW!

Opportunities everywhere for THIS TIME doing things differently.

On the night before the first day of school, I agonized over which of my new outfits to wear. At this stage of the year, they hung neatly in my closet, probably in some kind of pecking order--favorite to least favorite.

On the first day, I'd eagerly jump on the school bus, happy to see friends I hadn't seen all summer. I'd sashay down the aisle, waving at everyone, exulting in the buzz of excitement that underlay just a smidge of apprehension. (After all, first days have their downsides!)

Upon entering class, I'd be exceedingly polite to my new teacher (yes, I proactively aspired to the role of "teacher's pet.") And I'd scan the new classroom walls, taking in the murals and posters, excited about these signs of the learning to come.

Finally, I'd find my assigned seat, swing behind the desk, and place my notebook before me.

Ah......the new notebook.

Nothing cooler.

Its cover unscarred by meaningless doodles...its corners unfrayed by wear. And best of all, the inside of the notebook. All neatly sectioned off by tabbed dividers, protecting the fresh pages of paper not yet scribbled on.

I LOVED a fresh notebook.

And each year, I SWORE, that by the end of the year, the notebook would closely resemble its original form, the only difference being that the pages inside would now be filled with organized lessons, notes, essays--whatever the subject demanded.

Oh, I had a plan. Every year I had a plan.

THE PLAN was that each day, I'd go home after school, sit at the desk in my room, and carefully do my homework before watching any television. I would keep my lessons up-to-date and my reading assignments completed ahead of time.

I would not only be a good student, I would be AN ORGANIZED STUDENT.

* * * * * * S I G H * * * * *

Yeah, right.

You know how THAT turned out every year, huh?

But still...today is Labor Day. As I write this, a plumber is installing a new toilet (I guess the adult version of new beginnings).

Think I'll run out and buy a new notebook.

Flashback Friday

2011-09-02T08:32:00.000-07:00

Oops. Missed last week. Is that laziness, or what? I mean, how hard is it to paste in something I've already written? Okay, so here's a post from September 5, 2005. Yikes. Six years ago.

The Pink Index Card

...or why it’s good to write things down.

When I see entire workshops devoted to ‘goal setting,’ I shake my head and think what’s the big deal? You set a goal, you strive to achieve it, and bingo—you either succeed or fail. Plain and simple. Why overanalyze? Why turn goal setting into some mysterious ritual full of hocus pocus psychobabble?

So, at the RWA National conference in Reno this past July, we arrived at one of our lunches to find pink index cards on the table. Enough for each of us. Turns out they’re the bright idea of multi-published author Debbie Macomber, our speaker that day. She instructed us to take the pink cards home and use them to write down five writing-related goals for the coming year. Then she called out the names of several authors in the audience who stood and waved their pink cards triumphantly. Recipients of Debbie’s advice in workshops past, they’d followed her advice and achieved their goals.

Well, I may not believe in hocus pocus, but I’m all about being superstitious. So, I toted that pink index card home (mindful that just any ol’ index card wouldn’t do—it had to be the one I got in Reno) and wrote down five goals. The first two were long-term best case scenario kinda things, and the others were stepping stones.

By the end of August, I had started to believe in the magic of the pink index card. Instead of my usual half-assed effort, I’d methodically mailed out several submissions—to agents, editors and contests. Feeling smug, I dug out my pink index card to mentally tick off what I’d accomplished.

Guess what I discovered?

I hadn’t remembered them correctly. I hadn’t even completed one of the stepping stones which, trust me, were quite do-able. This, after even writing them down!

So, it just goes to show you that 1) it’s not enough to store your goals in your head, and 2) it’s not enough to write them down.

I’m tacking that little pink card on the wall next to my computer.

Flashback Friday--A New Feature

2011-08-19T08:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, call me lazy. Or call me frugal. I've decided to recycle some old posts and call them Flashback Friday. Well, hey. I've been blogging here for eons (yes, much more frequently in the past), and there are GEMS in those posts, I tell ya, GEMS.

So I went to a random date generator (God bless the Internet), and the first Friday it spit out was September 5, 2008.

Click, click, click (fingers crossed there's something halfway decent on that date, and voila!) The following is an account of what was going on in Randyland September 5, 2008.

Writing Stuff

Contrary to recent posts, Randy DOES continue to write romance. Currently, I'm hacking away at a manuscript for which the full has been requested by an agent.

So, that's something, right?

Meanwhile, partials of various manuscripts remain in slush piles all across Manhattan. My favorite is the partial that's been "with an editor" for nearly two years. (Yep, no typo there. TWO YEARS.) Another one--this an actual REQUEST--is going on ten months. Suffice to say, there are others that I suspect are lost forever with no response, despite the SASE provided. Ditto for a couple of short stories submitted twice (not to True Romance, by the way).

In the department of new writing, well...I'm trying an approach which I think can best be summed up as "letting the story come to me" instead of forcing it. When I first began this journey of questionable wisdom, it seemed prudent to have a second manuscript ready in the event the first one garnered significant interest. So I feverishly went about completing Stealing Amy (and then sold down the river to an epub). Then I wrote Leftovers. These days, I'm not in the same kind of hurry. As a result, after completing Lights! Camera! Love! back in February (March?), I didn't rush to start something new. Did a lot of research, though. Sketched out some characters and snippets of ideas. Conjured up a few possible plot lines. Tossed them out to my critique partners who came back with all kinds of help.

Still, the story didn't take shape--it didn't fit the nebulous vision in my brain.

So I waited.

Yesterday, I admitted to myself that I've been avoiding the structure the book absolutely MUST have if I'm to succeed at what I set out to achieve. Truthfully, I'm not sure I have the chops to pull it off, but I have to try.

The cool thing is that I get a little tingle in my writing fingers when I think about rising to the challenge.

Wish me luck!

Rant for A Sunday

2011-08-14T13:42:00.000-07:00

Back when I first started blogging, the title of this site was Randy's Rants, Raves, and Ramblings...or something like that. I forget. Anyway, sometimes I miss having a venue to spill my guts, so today...ta-da! Back to ranting.

Yesterday, step-bro Patrick phoned with an ominous message--Charter Cable was threatening to cut off my mom's cable and Internet service if the outstanding bill wasn't paid within twenty-four hours. Since I handle all their finances, yeah, the issue landed in my lap.

And since I handle all their finances, WTF? Had I missed something?

Which meant a trip to the office where I keep all my paperwork. Just what I wanted to do on a Saturday, right? Schlep into the office? But schlep I did. And as I careened into the parking lot, it occurred to me...um...did I have my keys?

Spent ten minutes going through my purse a million times. No keys.

Schlepped back home (with a detour for gas), pawed through my other purses (y'know--the black one, the white one, the beige one). Finally found them in...you guessed it...the ORIGINAL purse. (How did I forget to check the little zippered pocket on the outside of the damn thing?)

Schlepped back to the office.

Hauled out my records and fired up the computer. Sure enough, there was the payment I made on July 23. Next, I called up the on-line bank statement.

Oops.

But, hey. Is it my fault someone (Charter? the bank?) mis-read my handwriting? That 188 looked a teensy bit like 108...? And aren't they supposed to go by the WRITTEN amount (y'know where the words are actually spelled out?). Meanwhile, I called stepbro, and the new bill had just arrived. Wasn't even due yet.

So, let me get this straight. For all Charter knows, I made a PARTIAL payment, the next payment isn't even due yet, and they're threatening to cut off the service??

Naturally, speaking to a human is nearly impossible, so rather than spend any more time on it, I paid the whole thing with a credit card. But I'm seriously pissed at Charter. (Yeah, and I know they're quaking in their boots.)

And while we're on a rant, how about this one? I ordered a rather pretty dress from an outfit called Soft Surroundings last week. It arrived on Friday, and for various reasons, I went back to the website to see what it looked like on-line. Well, crap. The thing was now on sale for FORTY DOLLARS less than I paid only a week ago! And, as I checked the dress out, I noticed it was made in China.

Back it goes.

Okay. Feeling better now. How 'bout you?

Leftovers Available Now! (Edited LOL)

2011-08-09T20:42:00.000-07:00

Nooooo...we're not talking food, although each chapter begins with a tasty little recipe from my heroine's kitchen.

Leftovers is my latest release! (Pause for the applause)

I've gotta be honest here. Leftovers is a little different from my previous two books. Let's just say that while Stealing Amy and Lights! Cameras! Love! are romances that also happen to be mysteries, Leftovers is more like women's fiction that also happens to have romance. Go figure. I don't seem to be able to get away from it.

Anyway, just in case the description's not up at Amazon yet, here's what it will say when it arrives (okay, don't quote me on this, 'cuz I've already forgotten what I posted, but this is a reasonable facsimile):

Rose waited too long to get married...now she's stuck with other women's leftovers.

Call her an anti-feminist, but Rose Thornton doesn't care about 'having it all.' She just wants a husband and kids of her own to make up for inheriting the step-family from hell at the age of ten. Impending marriage to her boss John Worthington (the third, and a doctor no less!) bodes well for the dream...until she catches him with a hussy who turns out to be pregnant with his child.

Out of a job, temporarily bunking with a girlfriend, but still fiercely attached to her goal, Rose goes the Murphy Brown route, with only two minor glitches to solve: no money...no sperm. She gets the finances handled, then proceeds with daddy donor options: there's the "baby back-up" (her ex-beau who promised to do the deed if they managed to hit forty still childless); the Internet sperm bank (who knew swimmers were only a click away?);

and...well...there's dating.

Meanwhile, there's also Sam Sheridan--father of two daughters and married to Rose's sister, Angie. Only Angie's currently on hiatus in Borneo doing a spiritual cleanse and Sam's bi-coastal job's left him needing someone to watch the girls. Who better than a family member like jobless, homeless, Rose?

Treading in her sister's stilettos is pathetic enough, but when Rose finds herself falling for Sam, it's her worst nightmare come true.

Talk about your leftovers....

Available now as a digital download at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords. And as soon as Smashwords ships to Apple and all the rest, you'll be the first to know!

And shhh...don't tell Amy or Daphne, but Rose's book is my favorite to date. ('Course I'll probably say the same thing about Jen And The Art of Menopausal Maintenance when I get around to finishing it.)

Coming Soon!

2011-08-02T21:04:00.001-07:00

The Day I Taught Kunte Kinte About His Roots

2011-07-29T10:24:00.000-07:00

Not sure how I got on this "the day I" kick, but whatever. Oh, and btw, this may turn out to be one of those "long road to hoe" stories, so apologies in advance.

In about 1980, producer Susan and I had the dream job. We were given free rein by Golden West Television to "come up with the next Scared Straight" (with which we'd been peripherally involved). Over the course of several months, we shot hours and hours of film for what she envisioned as a documentary about how and why our society is effing up its children.

Along the way, we encountered this cool character named Barney, an old white guy helping kids in Watts and Compton. Two things about Barney instantly come to mind--one, he drank a lot of water, and why? So he'd wake up all night long, climb into his van and patrol the streets looking for youngsters who shouldn't be out. Two, he EMPLOYED kids on weekends to clean up (paint over) the graffiti around town. Sure, they only made a couple bucks, but we're talking six year olds...eight year olds...making their own money while providing a service. Great training, huh?

Yeah, Barney was a gem.

Too bad he didn't make the cut in our film which ended up being about child abuse.

Then one day, as Susan and I sat eating our lunch and catching up on the news (Variety for her, L.A. Times for me), I stumbled across an Op-Ed piece about the tragic death of a guy named Barney.

My hands literally shook as I read the article. Poor Barney. Stabbed to death in his van one night by persons unknown. Susan and I couldn't believe it.

And then it came to us...we already had all that footage of him...why not assemble it into some kind of tribute? All we needed was some interviews with people in the community and a host to narrate the story.

Well, remember. This was 1980. Roots had aired in...what...1977? Somehow we got ahold of LeVar Burton who instantly said yes. (Squeee!) In short order, there we were...driving him in Susan's Honda down to Watts for a day of shooting intros and outros.

Okay, confession time. I've never seen Roots. (Sorry!) I was in graduate school when it aired--no time for TV viewing, so I'd sorta missed the hoopla.

But as soon as we set foot on the sidewalks of Watts...it didn't take long to realize I was in the presence of a ROCK STAR. Crowds of people gathered. Young girls drove by shouting, "Kunte Kinte! Kunte Kinte!"

Yeah, it was a memorable day.

Later in the evening, when we'd finished shooting and driven back to Hollywood, the three of us had dinner at Denny's across the street from KTLA. (Yeah, big budget--we took our star to Denny's.) It was then LeVar told us he'd never been to Watts before.

Actually thanked us for introducing him to another side of his "roots."

Our half-hour film Barney aired locally on L.A.'s channel 5 and eventually garnered a local Emmy nomination. We invited the two young men who'd been Barney's right-hand aides to attend the awards ceremony with us, but they didn't show up. Later they explained that "going over to L.A." was too much of a hassle. How telling, I thought, that they didn't perceive themselves as living in L.A....

We won the Emmy that night, and I was always sorry they weren't there to "bask in the glory." And I wonder, thirty years later, what ever happened to them.

LeVar, I know, kept on being a really cool guy.

Explaining the Natalie Wood Reference

2011-07-28T09:52:00.001-07:00

So in an earlier blog post, I mentioned that Natalie Wood's death caused one of the most frenetic workdays of my life. Hate to put it that way since...y'know...it was SUCH a tragedy and definitely not "all about ME."

Having said that, here's what happened.

It was Thanksgiving weekend, remember? On Sunday, word came from Catalina Island she'd somehow drowned while anchored on the Wagner yacht off Isthmus Cove.

When I heard the news, my first thought centered on how young she was. Too young to die. Too beautiful.

My second thought?

Holy crap. Natalie stars in the Noxema commercial we have running on Tuesday in just about every market in the country. WORSE, in it she utters the line: "This is the last moisturizer I'll ever use..."

Eeeeek.

Obviously, this was BACK IN THE DAY. Y'know...the day when we didn't have email or faxes, i.e. INSTANT communication. Plus, there were (still are) legalities about how you do stuff when it comes to commercials.

So there I was, bright and EARLY Monday morning, armed with a ton of coffee, ready to spend hours on the phone.

First up: confirm with the advertising agency that they indeed wanted me to pull the commercial. Oh, yeah. They did. (Way to go, New York--smart call!)

Next...okay, you young people prepare yourselves...I sent something called a T E L E G R A M to all the stations carrying the show. See, it had to be uber-official. With a paper trail. And it wasn't like I could just send one to NBC because we weren't a network show, we were SYNDICATED. Meaning that in Boise we might be on the local NBC affiliate but in El Paso we were on ABC. And in Des Moines we might be on an independent.

And the way Western Union worked? I had to read off the full address of each TV station, one at a time. There were about 190.

Alas, it all worked out...with only a couple exceptions, the commercial didn't air.

And that, ladies and gents, is how the death of Natalie Wood impacted by job nearly 30 years ago.

Come Join the Party!

2011-07-27T08:24:00.001-07:00

It's over at Carol Kilgore's where I'm guest blogging today "Under the Tiki Hut."

Drop by for a cocktail, some munchies, and great conversation about characters in novels, traveling, and...well...whatever else happens to come up!

The Night I Danced With Christopher Reeve

2011-07-26T09:44:00.000-07:00

Yep, it actually happened. Well, kinda.

According to IMDb it must have been 1980 which sounds about right. I was eating lunch on the KTLA lot with Sally and her friend Gay--an entertainment reporter for one of L.A.'s all-news radio stations. Gay had an assignment to cover a premiere that night and she was trying to talk Sally into going, but Sally was busy so she turned to me.

I looked down at what I was wearing--a plaid wool skirt topped by a belted sweater. Yeah, early 80's. Clearly not a glitzy Hollywood premiere ensemble.

But Gay shrugged it off. Said she was going in what she had on--which wasn't much fancier than my outfit.

"You're sure I shouldn't run home and change?"

"Nah, you'll be fine. I'll swing by and pick you up around five."

Yeah, well you can guess how that turned out. By the time Gay swung by to pick me up, she'd magically changed into a sexy black jumpsuit (again, early 80's). I felt just like my heroine in Lights! Cameras! Love! Ordinary, plain, and definitely not dressed appropriately, but oh well. Too late to do anything about it. Lesson learned.

We entered the theater and took our seats. Immediately behind me (behind me!) sat Natalie Wood and Robert Wagner. (Sidenote: Eerie to realize now that within one short year, she'd be gone and her death would cause one of the most frantic work days of my life, but I'll leave that story for another post...) An emcee announced the Wagners had seen a screening the night before and loved the movie so much they'd come to see it again.

Anyway, the movie turned out to be FAME, and I echoed RJ's and Nat's sentiments. LOVED it. All those talented young hopefuls getting their big breaks in a story ABOUT big breaks.

After the movie ended, we were directed outside to the party. (Later in life, I dated a guy who provided the rentals for these shindigs but at this point, I was simply amazed by the surroundings, the food stations, the bars, the people...and I was soooo horribly self-conscious in my school-girl outfit. Reliving it makes me positively shudder!)

And, y'know...it wasn't like I could blend in and make the best of it. Oh, no. 'Cuz remember, I'm with Gay--of the sexy black jumpsuit Gay--and she's on assignment. Within minutes, she dragged me into the VIP circle where I found myself hobnobbing with the cast and crew. (I have to say, though, I give credit to Gay for not shoving this embarrassing creature--me!--into the background. Or were we both young and insecure??)

Anyway, Gay KNEW people from having interviewed them. So right away, she introduced me to Marilyn and Alan Bergman, and I mean, wow. Be still my beating heart. I play the piano and had all their sheet music. (And thank God that meant I could actually hold an intelligent conversation with them, horrible plaid skirt and all.)

Next I found myself chatting with the cinematographer. By then I'd ingested enough cocktails to think I was holding an intelligent conversation. Oh, yeah. This green newbie to the film world was full of heady opinions. All I remember now is that either the man was very kind or I was good at the technical schmooze thing, cuz he didn't run away.

Finally, a band began to play and...well, you know sexy black jumpsuited Gay--once again she dragged me into the inner circle of VIP dancing.

And there he was. Not only Superman, but the hero I'd fallen in love with at a screening of Somewhere in Time. Christopher Reeve in all his 6'4" blue-eyed glory.

Dancing next to me.

Our eyes met. He smiled. And for one moment, for that one moment, this somewhat naive 27-year old in a wool plaid skirt danced with Christopher Reeve!

Looking back, memories of that night conjure up a variety of emotions. Sadness for what the future held for Natalie and Christopher, surely. And nostalgia for a career I eventually left. But a sense of gratefulness, too. Appreciation for having had the opportunity to sample that lifestyle even if just for a few moments, a few years.

Which is also why I turned to the setting I did for Lights! Cameras! Love! There's a little bit of me in Daphne...although I didn't make her wear the wool plaid skirt. And she may not get to dance with Christopher Reeve, but there's this guy named Josh....

The Night I Saved Richard Simmons' Bacon

2011-07-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

Let's all jump in the way-back machine and return to 1982, shall we?

Time: About 11p.m. (I'd probably just finished watching Dynasty.)
Place: My condo in the Valley
State of mind: Just ready to lay my head on the pillow for a nice snooze, when...

R-r-r-r-ring.

A brief debate ran through my mind--something like, did I give my number to that annoying guy at the bar last night? After deciding the coast was clear, I picked up and found myself speaking to someone who identified herself as Richard Simmons' publicist.

Oops. Sidebar. In case I haven't mentioned it before, I used to work for the company that syndicated The Richard Simmons Show.

Anyway, said publicist calmly announced that Richard had moved out of his suite at the Waldorf Astoria. That he was now happily tucked in at the Helmsley Palace.

Which wouldn't have made a bit of difference to me...except for the fact I had arranged for eight of New York's biggest ad firms to attend a lunch/preview of Richard's nightime show the next day in his suite at the Waldorf.

"Just thought you should know," she said cheerfully before hanging up.

I remember sitting there, letting the shock ooze in. Ticking off the ways I was so screwed. First, because my boss was on a red-eye to New York, so no contacting him. Second, because our NY sales person was on the same flight, so no "local" person to call.

Nope.

I was on my own.

Do you know how hard it is to cancel and re-book an event like that from the opposite coast in the middle of the night?

Trust me. I was NOT happy.

I mean, it's not like those types are on-duty twenty-four/seven. (And by types, I'm referring to the people you need when trying to pull off an elegant lunch followed by a TV screening.) Plus, what with the time difference, it was about 3 o'clock in the morning. I made about a million calls setting up a new menu, arranging for audio/video equipment, you name it. Lots of details.

Then, about 8 a.m. New York time, I paged my boss and our salesperson at the airport. Yeah, right. Like they were gonna hear it.

About 8:30 a.m., I began phoning all the advertising agencies to advise the change in venue.

About 9:00, I CALLED RICHARD IN HIS SUITE to confirm the new plan.

"Oh hi," he says blithely. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to confirm you're in the suite at the Helmsley," I grit out through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, I had to ditch the Waldorf. Someone died in that room."

I blink. Really? Euw. "Oh," I say. "Well, then...I don't blame you."

All right, YES. Call me STUPID. CALL ME NAIVE. It was YEARS before I realized no one actually DIED in Richard's suite. He was simply referring to the decor.

Grrrrrrrrr.

Well, all's well that ends well. It was now 6 a.m. in the Valley and time to get ready for the daily trek into Hollywood.

The lunch went off without a hitch, the ad agencies bought into the nighttime show, and everyone made a lot of money.

I'm still waiting for my thank you note from Richard and his production staff.

Television Tales

2011-06-23T09:54:00.001-07:00

Back in another lifetime, I got my first post-college job at 5800 Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood, California. Yep. Right there on the second floor to the left...can you see my office? (Okay, I'm lying; I didn't have a window, but my door WAS opposite the entry to Gene Autry's lavish suite.)

See, like my heroine Daphne in Lights! Cameras! Love!, I was a secretary-to-a-secretary at the corporate level. Yes, in spite of the newly minted MBA adorning the wall above my toilet at home, I took a lowly position in order to...as they say...get my foot in the door. What a coinky-dinky--cuz that's exactly what Daphne does!

Within a year, I got my big chance--I moved to another less imposing building behind the one pictured here and found myself working as an "Assistant to the Producer" on a new hybrid show developed by Norman Lear. (Sadly, the less said about the show, the better.)

Anyway, lots of TV programs taped on that lot. One in particular (now I'm really gonna date myself) was Dinah! starring the late Dinah Shore who--for those of you too young to remember or (worse) weren't even alive yet--hosted a daily talk/variety show which aired in the afternoons. When Dinah was in production, we'd get a kick out of what we called "the Dinah line" parading past our windows in the afternoon. Usually older folks, trucked in from whoknowswhere by the producers to fill the audience.

On one such occasion, as the Dinah line was exiting the studio around twilight, I happened to be walking across the parking lot.

Suddenly cries rang out. "Dinah! Dinah, is that you?"

I swiveled around, expecting to see the seventy-something celebrity. Nothing but lots of cars.

A few elderly women broke from the pack, advancing on me. "Dinah," they said. "Can we get an autograph?"

Oh, God. They meant ME! (Sure I was blonde--still am--but for God's sakes, I was only twenty-seven!) Somehow I managed a graceful getaway, disappointing my ardent "fans."

Later that night, after taping our show, I walked to my car with our host, Steve Edwards (yes, the Steve Edwards who now has a morning show in Los Angeles and who often gets skewered on The Soup). So, who did we run into? Well, Dinah herself--the first and only time I ever met the lady.

Naturally, I told her about the earlier mistaken identity. And in her charming southern way, she invited me to impersonate her anytime I chose. (Cool and all, Dinah, but really? Did she think I ENJOYED being taken for a seventy-something woman?? Notsomuch.)

So there you have it--my big brush with quasi-stardom. I didn't use this story in Lights! Cameras! Love! but there are others that I did....

Stealing Amy--No Such Thing As an Old Review

2011-06-16T15:15:00.000-07:00

Faithful blog readers will remember that I originally sold Stealing Amy back in 2006 (eeek! 2006!) to an epublisher. It was released in February (or thereabouts) of 2007 and I withdrew the rights three weeks later for various reasons. Didn't matter one way or another because the (RWA approved) publisher went bankrupt in June of that year.

Ah, yes. Live and learn.

Another reason to self-publish!

Just sayin'....
But the point is...at that time, I'd begun a lot of the promo hoo-ha involved with releasing a book, including the round of review sites. Don't know how cool it is to bring up an old review, but hey. It can still be found on the Internet, so why not?

Here's an excerpt from The Romance Studio:

Randy Jeanne has written an exciting, fast-paced read about the pitfalls of stolen identity and the drawbacks of falling in love. She uses her imagination and her sense of adventure to show many difficulties in their budding romance and the interruptions of both his unwanted exes; she was constantly pressured by the appearance of her mother. The wittiness is incredible!

I thoroughly enjoyed this light-hearted romance. There was a little bit of sex, a little humor, a little nosiness, some responsibility to others, and, of course, some danger--all the wonderful aspects of any novel. I wholeheartedly recommend this book!

Today I googled Stealing Amy and GEEZ. A lot of my earlier efforts still exist--especially tons of links to the "movie" trailer I made. Um...in case you run across that, please ignore the reference to Triskelion Publishing! It can, however, be found at Amazon (Kindle version) and Barnes and Noble (Nook version).

Dreaming...

2011-06-15T13:57:00.000-07:00

...of sandy beaches (are there any other kind?) and tiki huts. Writer friend Carol Burnside a.k.a. Annie Rayburn is blogging today at Under the Tiki Hut. Drop in to get acquainted with her characters and grab a cocktail or two.

Setting Inspiration

2011-06-13T09:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, confession time. I was a HUGE fan of Romancing the Stone, and I'd always wanted to write a story set in a steamy jungle. So when I needed to send my heroine off on a search for her identity thief, I thought, why not Mexico? After all, my favorite vacation spot happens to be Puerto Vallarta, and just south of town is--you guessed it--a nice steamy jungle. Perfect for stranding two strangers who distrust each other yet can't deny their growing attraction. Better yet, who are forced by circumstances to rely on each other.

Not to spill the beans, but eventually Nick and Amy escape the jungle and head for an upscale resort (each with their own motivation). For this, I discovered a cool place called Las Alamandas upon wich I loosely modeled "Casa Rivera." Some day I hope to be able to visit Las Alamandas for real, not just in fiction!

Writing Tips From Odd Sources

2011-06-09T13:29:00.000-07:00

Not an entirely accurate title for today's post but close enough. What I mean is that you never know where you're gonna learn something about writing.

Case in point: I'm currently reading Spencer Quinn's Chet and Bernie mysteries. Hm? Not up on Chet and Bernie? Well, get this: Chet is a dog and he's the narrator. Doncha love it?? So cute. So clever. And, hey--guess what else??--the books boast damned good mystery plots to boot!
But what I love most of all is that Chet, being a dog and all, doesn't react and observe the same way as a human would--and therein lies the lesson. He's a MASTER (dare I say best-in-show?) at showing rather than telling. For instance, when he's happy, a sudden breeze comes up, and seconds later we realize he's wagging his tail. Or take the way he uses smells to size up a character new to the scene. (Love that!)

I know Spencer Quinn (apparently a pseudonym) isn't the first author to use a non-human for his narrator, but still...Chet's pretty unique and laugh-out-loud entertaining. I mean, ya gotta love it when he sheepishly (sorry, Chet) confesses he's not so good with describing colors. Or that his sense of time is measured by describing the movement of the sun or the moon.

See what I'm getting at here? Instead of writing, "the next day" we get the actual physical observation. Kinda cool. Refreshing.

And ya gotta love a narrator who flunked out of K-9 school on the last day, although so far, Chet's always too busy to go into details....

I'll Play!

2011-06-08T09:36:00.000-07:00

Long-time writer friend Carol Burnside (a.k.a. Annie Rayburn) has graciously awarded me a Verastile Blogger Award which comes with serious responsibilities!
Okay, totally lying. I mean, this is not exactly clap your hands so Tink doesn't die. Hm, do I have that right? Is it hand clapping or...clicking heels together three times? No, wait. That's Wizard of Oz. Geesh, I'm old. No memory.

Anyway, here's the deal:

1. Thank and link to the person who nominated you. Check. Thanks, Annie!

2. Share 7 random facts about yourself. Ready, set...go!

a. When I was about 22, I coordinated regional pageants for Miss California Teenager. (Yeah, that was a real ego-boost--constantly surrounded by gorgeous young girls giving me fashion tips)

b. When I was about 29, I managed the syndication side of things for The Richard Simmons Show (speaking of egos...).

c. I was the Associate Producer on several award-winning documentaries.

d. I once taught a community college course on how to develop employees through training (ha...my current employees may find that amusing)

e. I am the proud recipient of an aortic valve donated by a cow (which explains the occasional moooooo)

f. I could sight-read piano music by age five. Sadly, it's not a handy talent to have because I can't play a note without sheet music in front of me, so I'm a real dud at parties.

g. I've never been married! (Yes! The most random fact of all!)

Back to the rules...

3. Pass the award on to 5 newfound blogging buddies.

Uh-oh. Really?? Who knew this would be the hardest part? Okay, here goes:

1. Newly-minted bride (not to mention newly minted LAWYER) Reagan at One!Singular!Sensation!

2. Writer friend Liz Falkner who'll have a release out soon!

Okay, we're seriously gonna have to put item three on the back-burner for awhile. (In other words...until I dredge up some other bloggers!)

Finally (back to the rules): Notify the recipients of your award. Coming atcha, Reagan and Liz!

Catching Up With Technology

2011-06-07T14:37:00.000-07:00

Color me clueless when it comes to the latest tech talk. In fact, up until this morning, I'd have been hard pressed to explain the difference between a laptop, a notebook, or a tablet.

But that was then, this is now!

'Cuz I just ordered me a cool new toy!

Notice the handy-dandy detachable keyboard!

No guarantee I'll know how to actually use it when it arrives, but still. I'm-a-gonna-get-me-one.Something tells me this guy and I will be spending spend some real quality time together, traveling the planet. (That is, if I can manage to keep it within my possession and away from all matters of catastrophe, like water, sun, and the impact of rapid changes in gravity.)

Stumbling Around

2011-06-01T10:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, no one ever said I was an Einstein when it comes to technology, so it may not surprise you that I've flubbed a couple steps in this whole self-publishing journey.

First, I'm definitely not an artist. (Gee, can ya tell by my book covers?) Second, I have a day job (whine, whine) so I'm not always able to (cough) get things done in a timely manner.

Hence the difference in covers for Lights! Cameras! Love! on Smashwords versus Amazon. And let's not even get started with the notion that I haven't uploaded to Barnes and Noble yet. Hey, they need banking info and that's at my office. My writing stuff's at home. Never the twain shall meet (unless I concentrate real hard on the task).

Meanwhile, I'm supposed to keep writing??

The good news is that Smashwords approved Stealing Amy for their Premium catalog which means it will soon ship to other "stores." (For instance, you folks who read books on iPads will be able to purchase it from Apple--yay, you!) Lights! Cameras! Love! is pending but I'll keep ya posted.

Meanwhile, yikes. The object now is to promote, promote, promote (or as I call it, pimp, pimp, pimp). I'm really not so good at that--kinda why I did this under my pen name.

So anyone who wants to spread the word on their own, have at it!

Lights! Cameras! Love!

2011-05-29T19:48:00.000-07:00

Yep. I uploaded another one. Lights! Cameras! Love! should be available in about 24 hours for you Kindle users at Amazon.com. Meanwhile, it's in various other formats at Smashwords.

This one's kind of an Ugly Betty goes to Hollywood tale. Anyone who knew me...um...about 30 years ago might recognize some stuff in the details from back when I was an associate producer for Golden West Television on the KTLA lot. While writing this book, it was fun to revisit my old haunts if only in my mind!

And again...

2011-05-19T14:44:00.001-07:00

Yep, I'm technologically challenged (big surprise, I know). I'm reposting the news about going live at Amazon because, er, I'm trying to get something called an RSS Feed linked from this blog to my author page.

Whew.

Who said being an author was easy? Shouldn't it be enough we write the damn books??

Re-Posting... (Sigh)

2011-05-19T14:37:00.000-07:00

LIVE at Amazon!

2011-05-19T12:30:00.000-07:00

Stealing Amy is now available for all you friendly Kindle owners, so click here to purchase.

Oh, except for my friends and relatives. PLEASE don't shell out your hard-earned dough on my account just to be "nice."

Should be a law, in fact.

The Self-Publishing Gambit

2011-05-18T14:14:00.000-07:00

Back when I first started "writing for publication" (as they say--y'know, as opposed to the traditional half-assed effort at scribing the all-American novel that never, uh, quite gets finished), a lot of non-authorly types asked me why I didn't just publish it myself.

At the time, having been thoroughly indoctrinated via my RWA membership, my answer was: Are you f'ing kidding me?

AND, at the time, it was a fairly reasonable response. After all, the unwashed minions figured all you had to do was pay someone to produce something that resembled a book and voila. Published.

Not that easy, I'd retort. Because, first: guess what? Most authors (especially first-time authors) don't write the perfect book without the benefit of another pair of eyes (belonging to an editor). Yeah, sad but true. Pesky things like grammar, dialogue, tension, conflict...um...basic STORYTELLING aren't that easy to come by without studying the craft and learning by getting feedback.

Second, so you've got this perfectly nice looking tome with its beautiful cover, its copyright page, and you've edited it to perfection...so what? Whose gonna buy it and where are they gonna get it from? Back in the old days (pre-Kindle, pre-Nook, pre iPad), you couldn't exactly take delivery of your "book" and march it over to Barnes and Noble for shelving. (Does it surprise you to know things don't work that way??)

So, yeah. Distribution problems.

Which is why epublishers sprang up (especially in the romance genre) to act as clearinghouses for readers looking for ebooks. I may be going out on a limb here, but my feeling is that in the early days, an author's success hinged on either volume--lots of titles with which to build up a readership, eroticism--before NY publishers caught up to the trend, and/or uniqueness--stories NY didn't know what to do with--or all of the above.

Hence, when I sold to an epublisher in 2007, my book didn't stand much of a chance (it being the only one I had available, it being tame by the current sexuality standards, and it being your basic old-fashioned contemporary romance). Whatever. I pulled it from the publisher just three weeks after its release because I didn't like the naked covers being marketed next to it. (Not that I have anything against erotic romance--or whatever they're calling it these days--but because I didn't think my book fit well with what they were selling.)

Anyway.

Flash forward. This past Christmas, sales of reading devices soared through the roof and suddenly, in the ensuing months, so did ebook sales. Technology apparently rocks!

Which leads me to....my decision to self-publish.

Because along with the new reading devices, the Internet also boasts a new group of sites that make it easy for readers to buy your books. And they've cut out the middleman (New York).

Good thing...or bad? Well, suffice to say there are lots of arguments to make on either side, but this post isn't about that.

It's about why NOW, not then.

Hi, Blogger!

2011-05-15T15:06:00.001-07:00

Guess what I did?

I kinda re-entered the world of writing again this weekend! I don't know what happened but, yeah...I've been planted in the chair at my computer desk for about 20+ hours. Well, not continuously, but geez. Almost.

The result being...

that I've joined the world of the literary unholy. In other words (no pun intended) I've self-published!

I know. Eeek. Dirty words just a short time ago. But now, as it turns out, people are actually reading on those new-fangled electronic reading devices (better known as the Kindle, the iPad, etc.) When I saw the blogosphere go crazy after Christmas with reports on epubbed book sales, I thought hm.

Then, when fellow author Terry Spear began selling tons of books through various sites, I thought...well, why not me?

So even though I'd had a good nibble from a pretty respectable publishing outfit, I decided to take control of my own writing. After all, in these past two years, I'd lost the joy of it. Now...being my own publisher, who cares? I can write how I want, what I want.

Meanwhile, I trotted out that old manuscript I originally sold to Triskelion (right before they went bankrupt). And, voila. Book. Available for sale here in case anyone's interested.

Hey, maybe I'll even start blogging again!

P.S. Here's the cover I made for it!

By Popular Demand

2011-04-20T08:53:00.000-07:00

...photos of my latest cruise. Yes, I know. Rinse, lather, repeat. In December, I took off on Carnival out of Tampa; this time it was Holland America out of Fort Lauderdale. And you people who aren't on Facebook are CLAMORING for pix!
Leaving Fort Lauderdale...for maybe the second time since we had to GO BACK. Yes, there we were, sipping cocktails, when Jim astutely observed: "Uh, I think we're going the wrong way." Well, figuring that the Captain had directions and a map, how could this be...? Unless, of course, there was a medical emergency, which there was.

This is us, not really caring whether we had to go back or not. (Okay, to be honest, I'm not sure what day this photo is from.) L to R: Jamie, Sandi, Jim and Mike
L to R: Unknown woman, anonymous man, Jamie, Jim. Look at the polite smile plastered on Jamie's face...the sleepy-time posture of Jim. HA. We had been properly chastened for not paying strict attention to the performer at the piano bar. Our moments there were numbered.
Our ship, as seen from the shore of Half Moon Cay, a private island owned by Holland America.
As we departed Half Moon Cay...
Check out the turquoise water!
More turquoise water! As pretty as Cancun!
Kinda makes you wanna put the boat in reverse and just stay there for the rest of the week.
Geez...how many of these did I take...? (Or have I posted duplicates? Too lazy to figure it out)
I WUVS me a good sunset. Oddly, I only took pictures of this one for the whole week. Must've been on the wrong side of the ship or otherwise occupied during that time of day...?
Yeah...this must have been just moments later. Hardly a change, huh? I was waiting for the green flash.
Formal night! L to R: Mike, Jim (Oh, I didn't mentioned they're conjoined twins? Ha. Kidding)
L to R: Randy, Sandi. Yes, it was the Randy/Sandi show.
Um. More water. Guess it was arriving at Aruba...?
Yep. Aruba. This was the view from my side of the ship once we docked.
More of my view. Must be fun for the captain to navigate into this place.
Downtown near the pier. It was hot and humid that day, and I wasn't feeling too great. Missed the tour. :(
The happy couple, Mike and Sandi.
Bartender Jason. So sweet! He remembered our names and drinks immediately--the mark of a perfect Holland America employee.
Um...the other guys. I forget their names but they were equally sweet.
An uplifting moment. I think this happened because a common refrain during picture taking was "tits up"...well, I needed help in complying with the command.
The Sports Bar. We spent more time here than probably anywhere else on the ship--except for the Lido Deck Bar. (Two of three places you could, um, smoke on board.)
Mike, who I think was trying to communicate with the troll that lived at the bottom of that cylinder.
Proof that I was sometimes awake before noon. This is from when we sailed into Curacao early morning. There's a cool pontoon bridge (not pictured) that they'd opened to let us in.
A little dark, huh?
Hey, like I said...it was early morning.
As I recall, Curacao's nickname is "Little Amsterdam." It's got funny little canals and all these brightly colored buildings with interesting rooflines.
That boat probably led us in.
That was the cutest little bridge. It kinda looked like two chickens were guarding it.
Doesn't look like much, really, but I think it was said that the bridge is the tallest in the Caribbean.
Another shot of the bridge. Something about Curacao made me feel like we were closer to civilization.
This is where I sat and had a beer while the group trudged on in the never-ending shopping tour.
From my balcony.
Ditto. Ah, in the distance you can see the pontoon bridge is now closed. There's a ferry for when it's gonna be open a long time.
See? There's one of the ferries.
That long thing on the right is actually the pontoon bridge--opened to let us get back out. In the distance, that's a Celebrity ship.
Off we go...
The coast
This may actually be the coast of Venezuela...?
Um. You had to be there. We were trying to take pictures of ourselves in the mirror above the bar.
Yeah. It worked real well.
Sandi claims she's gonna make an objet d'art from this.
My boys, having fun!
Me, having fun!
So this was the aftermath from a scavenger hunt that called out for a bra...which I just happened to have on. Who knew I was so good at getting a bra off quickly? I mean, it's not like I have a lot of experience....
Okay. Enough of the bra.
I said, ENOUGH.
There's a lighthouse in this picture.
There's a freighter in this one.
The boys with their new girlfriend, Mary. They thought she was ancient--turned out she was only a couple of years older than me. (Is that a GOOD sign, or a BAD one?)
More frivolity on the Lido Deck.

Couldn't squeeze a comment in between these last two pictures. Anyway, this was our last evening...we had a little party to celebrate on my balcony.

Good times!!!!

Oh, Charlie...

2011-03-01T09:11:00.000-08:00

Millionaire? Yes.
Great comedic actor? Indisputably.
Hopeless addict....? Well, let's just say that photos don't lie.

Life at Work

2011-02-10T16:53:00.000-08:00

Let's take the once-around, shall we?

What's new at Bemco?

2011-02-10T16:01:00.001-08:00

Some pics of a couple current projects...

Caribbean 2010 Continued...

2011-01-11T10:00:00.001-08:00

Now would be a good time to take a tour of my cabin, yes?

Caribbean Cruise 2010

2010-12-21T13:45:00.000-08:00

What can I say? To me, traveling is all about the people. And once again, I was fortunate enough to meet up with a great crowd.

First, a little background. Somewhere in the early part of this decade, I arrived in Orlando to discover my cousin had to cancel the cruise we were about to embark on. Although a little bummed (well, a whole LOT bummed), I figured, what the hell. I've vacationed alone before. Long story short (too late!) I met Marty and Ali one night in the piano bar, and from that day forward, a lifelong friendship blossomed. I've cruised with them three times now, and faithful blog readers will remember (hell, all you have to do is scroll down) that I visited them in Cape Cod a couple months ago.

On our last cruise (2007?), we met Jamie and Jim with whom we've kept in touch via Facebook. Around March this year, the guys proposed a 50th birthday celebration cruise, and I eagerly signed up. Sadly, Ali and Marty weren't able to go, and to tell you the truth, I was a little apprehensive about proceeding with my plans because I hadn't gotten to know Jamie and Jim that well. Plus I couldn't remember having met the other people in the group (even though...yeah...I'd met them three years before--perhaps alcohol was involved...?). Anyway, would I fit in? Would I just be a pain in the ass to people who already knew each other well??

Suffice to say, by about day three of this month's cruise, I was saying things like: "I'd travel anywhere, anytime, with you guys." And they were saying, "we're booked for April, here's our travel agent's phone number." Truly, I can't begin to express how much I fell in love with Jim and Jamie. They made me feel cherished and safe....which ain't that easy when you're hanging over an abyss in the tropical rain forest!!Their friends were special, too. Although we didn't spend as much time with Kim, Kelly, Dennis and John, we DID get to hang (and I mean that LITERALLY) with Bobby and Arlene, one of the nicest couples you'll ever meet. Bobby's eternally sweet disposition, along with Arlene's infectious laugh, left a lasting impression on me! (Hope to see them in April!)

Okay, onto stories...first of all, hello Tampa! Arrived to cold and rain, clad in my normal California attire of leggings and a sleeveless top. Brrr. But I braved the inclement weather, caught a cab from my hotel, and jaunted on over to the Hard Rock Casino. Made a modest deposit there, then headed back to the Hilton. (Kind of an interesting sidenote: As my driver proceeded IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION of my hotel, I started to wonder if I'd been a little hasty in accepting the offer of a non-taxi-type. Alas, it all worked out.)

The next morning, I got all dressed and re-packed, trucked on down to the lobby to wait for the shuttle, and discovered POURING RAIN. I mean, WTF? Isn't Florida supposed to be sunshiny? I froze my BUTT off getting to the ship.

I guess the weather must have cleared for a half second, cuz I scored these photos as we left port.

And here, for your viewing pleasure is a little video I took as we sailed into (through?) Tampa Bay. (Ah...it looked deceptively tranquil at the moment, didn't it??) More about that and the rest of the cruise when I get a moment...

Oopsie at Bemco

2010-12-08T08:43:00.000-08:00

Small traffic accident in front of work last night. Fortunately, no one was hurt...but great entertainment was enjoyed by all!

Gwyneth Paltrow on Glee

2010-11-19T09:06:00.000-08:00

Multi-talented people kinda depress me...

San Diego Weekend

2010-11-08T11:47:00.001-08:00

Dana Point Harbor
Ditto
Looking north from Pacific Beach (San Diego)
Crystal Pier in Pacific Beach
Downtown San Diego (with Coronado Bridge in distance) early morning
Surfers in front of the condo
Crystal Pier (again)
Cousin Charles, Matt and Janet along with Uncle Chuck and wife Rhona at my uncle's 85th birthday party...so fun to get to spend time with my Gorder relations!

Assistant Jacqui is a Star!

2010-10-19T08:38:00.001-07:00

By Popular Request

2010-10-07T08:22:00.001-07:00

Okay all you anti-Facebook folks. Here are some photos from my trip back east. Enjoy!

Old City Hall is now a Ruth's Chris Steakhouse

The Omni Parker Hotel--where I stayed and where JFK proposed to Jackie
Random guy who tried to pick up on me and bought a round of drinks for the bar when I suggested (successfully) that the bartenders might have a charger for his dead cell phone.

From the walkway between casinos.

Christmas trees!
Wedding venue!
Paul and Jenny--bride and groom!

Scene from wedding venue
Look at those beautiful windows!
Lindsay and father of the bride
Custom-made wedding topper

Cousin Lindsay and moi
Father of the bride (Dan), sister of the bride (Reagan), mother of the bride (Lindsay), best friend of mom (Elizabeth) and her friend Tom.
After wedding affair at Abigail's
Atlantic Restaurant at Wequasset Inn and Resort on Cape Cod
Marty, me, and Ali
Marty and girlfriend
Ali playing on the car thingy
Ali and Marty showing off their drunk driving skills
The pool at Wequasset
Cottages at Wequasset
More pool
Fire pit at Wequasset
Fog rolls in
Seal! (Not to be confused with Heidi Klum's husband)
The Chatham lighthouse where all the weather reporters set up cameras during Cape Cod storms
Ali and Marty's ADORABLE house!
Me demonstrating Marty's outdoor shower

Is this cute, or what?

2010-08-19T14:53:00.000-07:00

Just Call Me A Sucker for Coffee Drink Extravaganzas!

2010-07-16T10:52:00.000-07:00

What Does This Say About Me??

2010-07-15T11:47:00.000-07:00

First, you need to know that I read the L.A. Times newspaper from cover to cover every day while eating lunch at the office. Very relaxing, very informative. Start with Part I (headline news stuff), then their new "breaking news" edition, followed by Business, Sports, and then Calendar (entertainment).

On Monday, I went through my daily routine, and when I got to the last page of Calendar (which is the TV guide), I paused at the description of that night's episode of The Bachelorette.

Um, huh? Hadn't I already seen this episode? Why would they be repeating it?

That was when I discovered I'd read a week-old newspaper I hadn't had time for the week before.

Shouldn't there have been an earlier clue??

Ah, Yes...Sunny Puerto Vallarta....

2010-07-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

Writing? What's That?

2010-06-29T10:40:00.000-07:00

Long-time blog readers know I'm one of those people who enjoys HAVING WRITTEN rather than, y'know...the actual process itself. Lately, though, I've been getting the itch again. Maybe 'cuz I got a comp copy in the mail with a story I wrote last year. Or maybe 'cuz I'm starting to get a teensy bit more free time, and I ain't doing nothing constructive with it! (Unless, of course, you count watching endless repeats of America's Next Top Model as a worthwhile endeavor, and hey--I could make the case, if pressed).

Then there's the whole RWA conference thing. MAN, I used to look forward to that every year. I'd come away all inspired and ready to bang out the next best seller--or, at the very least, the next DEBUT--every time. But this year?

Not so much.

Especially since it's in Or-friggin'-lando. Land of the kidlets and human cartoon characters. Do I really wanna spend a precious week of time in 200% humidity and screaming children?

Again. Not so much.

Meanwhile, though, I've been reading. Some pretty good stuff, too! (Although, puh-lease...shouldn't a famous author KNOW better than to include TWO THUNDERSTORMS--weeks apart--in a book set in HOLLYWOOD? HA! Those east coast people always get southern California wrong.

Anyway, so that's where I'm at right now, writing-wise. Mulling ideas over...wondering whether to go back to the WIP I was working on when Life so unceremoniously interrupted (or maybe ERUPTED is the more accurate term). Maybe something new.

Maybe nothing at all.

When does the new season of America's Top Model start...?

Father's Day

2010-06-20T10:19:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe that this time last year, they were both still with us.

Welcome, Facebookers

2010-06-17T09:57:00.000-07:00

Yes, I shamelessly sent my Facebook friends to my blog in order to answer the burning question: Did Randy Get Married?

HA!

You faithful blogreaders know better than that, right? No, the story's a bit more interesting. You see, that's my mother's wedding ring. My real mother--the one who died when I was nine. For some never-explained reason, my stepmom's been wearing it on her right hand for the past 40-something years. I never asked why. I mean, my father must've given it to her to wear, right? Was it an homage of some sort?

Anyway, Annie's hands have become too arthritic. It doesn't fit anymore. So during a conversation with sister-in-law Polly about jewlery, she suddenly disappeared into the bedroom, returning with The Ring. The one she'd probably planned to give me on the occasion I brought some nice young man home and announced my engagement.

Too bad it never happened, huh? Long wait!

According to Annie, the center diamond was my mom's engagement ring. The two smaller diamonds (not equal in size) on either side were from my grandmother's. (Maybe. I'm not sure she has that part of the story right.)

It fits better on my left hand, but don't worry. I'm not that stupid. When I'm out and about, I squeeze it onto my right lest I scare all those eligible bachelors away (although, yeah...I'm quite aware that married "cougars" are in hot demand).

Gee, ya think I need a manicure? Those nails aren't shaped that way--they're just so long, they're curving around. Hey, who has time for appointments? I'm too busy running the family business.

Only In Hidden Hills

2010-06-07T20:37:00.000-07:00

Yes, my children. That's a golf cart in front of me, tooling along at the rate of one mile an hour as a miniature horse trots along on each side, tethered by a leash to the unseen occupants of the cart. Guess that's ONE way to exercise your animals....

Getting to Know Your Droid

2010-05-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

Not sure I would've chosen "Droid" as the name for a phone. Just try putting a "hem" in front of it and you'll see what I mean.

Anyway, so naturally I haven't read the instructions. They might have come in handy when I tried taking pictures at the reunion last weekend. Oh, well. So what if they're a little yellow? Yellowed with age, I guess!
Me and Mike Miller (Class of '70)
Yvette Jespersen Robertson
Sean and Sally (Feeney) Conroy
Carol Copsey and Martha McGroarty
Carol Copsey, Jim Hagopian, Salley Powell
Anne Loftin, Melody Maddock

A Blur of Faces, Names...Shared Histories

2010-05-24T09:56:00.000-07:00

As a service to those not on Facebook, I've shamelessly stolen photos to upload from last weekend's Agoura High School Reunion. Enjoy. (P.S. They're tiny--I guess because they're filched.)
Debi Williams, Randy Bruskrud
Gilbert Yablon, Carol Copsey, Jim Hagopian
John Votjek
Sally Feeny, Andi Horowitz
Melissa North, Tamy Hagy
Mr. Miller
Ann Loftin, Melody Maddock
Jim Hagopian, Sally Feeny
Martha McGroarty
Yvette Jespersen
Bonnie Chorney, Cathy Reuter, Cyndi Modlin, Sally Feeny, Tina Greggs, Melissa North
Jeff Chamberlain, Georgeann Nichol, Cyndi Modlin
Randy Bruskrud, Mike Miller

New Post, New Blog

2010-05-19T13:46:00.001-07:00

Yeah, for someone who's posting infrequently at best, you may be wondering why I've created yet another blog.

It's the economy, stupid.

(Ha. A little crack at Hillary.)

Anyway, so Engineer Matt and I were discussing ways to drive more traffic to the company website, and you know me. The only thing I know how to do is create a blog. So, voila.

Besides, Matt knows more about the tech side of stuff than I. In fact, he can actually write about it. (Which he plans to do in the very near future.)

Not sure if he's posted yet, but check it out anyway. Click this link here.

Doesn't It Figure?

2010-05-03T14:33:00.001-07:00

So after all of last year's traveling woes...cancellation upon cancellation...dollar upon dollar lost...I figured it was safe to come out and play again. Made a reservation for the upcoming RWA conference in July.

Um...maybe I'm some sort of curse??

Click here to see what I mean.

Random Thoughts on My Current TV Viewing Habits

2010-04-30T09:40:00.000-07:00

Survivor is having its BEST SEASON EVER. Russell and Parvati have executed maneuvers you'd have to see to believe.

I can watch a marathon of America's Next Top Model even though I've seen the whole damn season six times before.

Two And A Half Men and The New Adventures of Old Christine make good sleeping pills. (Don't know why, cuz I actually enjoy both shows.)

DVR is everything people kept telling me it was.

Chelsea Lately (aka Chelsea Handler) gets away with saying stuff NO ONE else says on TV. (P.S. For some reason, her relationship with Chuy kinda gives me the creeps.)

The Housewives of (fill in the city here) are ample proof that money doesn't buy happiness...or class (I'm looking at YOU, Countess)...and that age and maturity don't necessarily go hand-in-hand.

Dancing With The Stars has a pacing problem. Can't watch.

American Idol still grabs me, although it's lacking the wow factor this year.

Desperate Housewives gets better and better.

Sad but true. I need Tiger in my televised golf tournaments.

TMZ's Harry Levin hit gold with his creation, but for some reason I wouldn't be surprised to see him show up as the unwitting participant on To Catch A Predator.

I could watch Bravo 24/7, reruns and all. (Does this make me gay??)

Project Runway was better before it went to Lifetime.

HBO has given up its "original series" dominance to Showtime.

Must. Get. Showtime. (So I can watch the Altered States of Tara more often.)

Of all the reality shows, I think I'd do best on Big Brother but Amazing Race looks like a lot more fun.

Those Jersey people should be put out of OUR misery.

Another Life Goes On Post

2010-04-28T13:38:00.001-07:00

Hard to believe some people still check my blog every day, especially since I've been less-than-prolific of late. Once in awhile, I even get a call or an email asking how I'm doing because the blog had always been a source of info up until last summer.

Anyway, so yeah. Here it is. I'm alive and well, and...oh, wow...just checked the calendar, and tomorrow it will have been EIGHT WEEKS since my surgery. Seems like only yesterday...

When last checked, my right lung still wasn't 100%. Maybe that's why I don't feel any different from the way I felt pre-surgery. No more energy, no less. Well, sometimes less but I suppose that's just because they cut me open, put me on the heart-lung bypass machine, and...y'know...did all manner of unkind things to my body. Still...I'm jealous of the people on the valve forum who report they "haven't felt this good in years." Or, maybe I'm being greedy? Today I had an echocardiogram. Hopefully, the results will show lots of good stuff.

This past weekend, I went to Vegas (yay!) and was shocked when a minimal jaunt between the Flamingo and Harrah's resulted in aching thighs and calves. And, NO--I wasn't in my customary 4-inch heels--this was in FLATS. {Shudder} I'm TOTALLY out-of-shape, it appears.

So a new commitment to my ever-lovin' treadmill--which, by the way--now resides in my extra bedroom where there's no TV. I'm forced to listen to music on my computer. Yesterday, I walked for five songs worth.

It's still difficult to schedule things since I try to spend as much time with Annie as possible. I hate to think of her being alone, yet I'm not willing to give up my independence entirely.

Meanwhile, life goes on. I've booked a trip to Nashville for the annual romance writers' conference even though I'm not writing at all. Maybe it'll get me fired up again, who knows? In any event, it's always a good excuse to see a part of the US I've never been to. Plus, I get to pal around with old friends Brooke and Elizabeth, so I'm looking forward to it.

There's still so much in my head that I could go on and on about--plenty of fodder for the blog, you might say--but it feels too personal. Hell, I don't confide most of my thoughts aloud to my friends and family, so why would I do it here?

Yet, despite how this entry is probably coming off, be assured I've held on to my positive attitude. I mean, what else can I do, really?

Life didn't make any promises...and I learned at a young age...ya gotta roll with the punches.

Ow.

In Writing News...

2010-04-20T09:45:00.001-07:00

Yes, faithful blog readers...remember when I used to fancy myself a writer...??

Well, the last thing I wrote before my whole world went to hell was a story for True Romance. In fact, I submitted it on April 29, 2009 --which I happen to know because I checked my "sent" file.

After that, nada.

Not even on my book-length project which, when last mentioned, was the recipient of a 3-chapter critique from Jessica Faust at Bookends Literary.

Flash forward. And I mean FORWARD...Crap, almost a year!

This week I received both a contract for the True Romance story AND Jessica's critique. Uh, I guess you can chalk this up to the good news/bad news category. Yay about the contract, but Ms. Faust's critique was less-than-stellar. She said that overall my writing was good but that she didn't think I was executing things in the way I should (I'm paraphrasing.) And she TOTALLY misinterpreted my little "women's joke" that starts off the story. Sigh.

In health news, I'm doing fine...feeling more normal every day although most of the time my right boob aches like a sonuvabitch. S'okay. I'll take that ANY DAY over an aching sternum.

One of these days--when I get a breather, HA--I'll write more about the experience. Oh, and post pictures.

I know.

You can hardly wait, huh?

Rest In Peace, Daddy

2010-03-26T11:57:00.000-07:00

Off we go into the wild blue yonder,
Climbing high into the sun;
Here they come zooming to meet our thunder,
At 'em boys, Give 'er the gun! (Give 'er the gun now!)
Down we dive, spouting our flame from under,
Off with one heckuva roar!
We live in fame or go down in flame.
Hey! Nothing'll stop the U.S. Air Force!

Minds of men fashioned a crate of thunder
Sent it high into the blue
Hands of men blasted the world asunder,
How they lived God only knew!
Souls of men dreaming of skies to conquer
Gave us wings ever to soar,
With scouts before and bombers galore, Hey!
Nothing'll stop the US Air Force!

Here's a toast to the host of those
Who love the vastness of the sky,
To a friend we send a message
Of his brother men who fly.
We drink to those who gave their all of old,
Then down we roar
to score the rainbow's pot of gold.
A toast to the host of men we boast, the US Air Force.

Zoom!

Off we go into the wild sky yonder,
Keep the wings level and true!
If you'd live to be a grey-haired wonder,
Keep your nose out of the blue! (Out of the blue, boy!)
Flying men guarding the nation's border,
We'll be there, followed by more,
In echelon we carry on! Hey!
Nothing'll stop the US Air Force!

Warren Revland Bruskrud 10-1-22 -- 3-20-10

2010-03-22T12:30:00.000-07:00

High Flight

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings.
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air,
Up, up the long delirious burning blue.
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew;
And while with silent uplifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

Buh-Bye Aortic Valve, Hello Mooooooooooooo

2010-03-17T12:02:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago tomorrow, can ya believe it?? How time flies! Yes, two weeks ago, they wheeled me through what felt like "backstage on the set of Grey's Anatomy." Only it was real life.

Strangely, I wasn't frightened (okay, maybe there was something already in my IV), but then they didn't give me very much time to get scared. My anesthesiologist (both charming and handsome in his turban) said something like, "ta-ta," and I remember feeling first one wave, then a second, then nothing.

Until I woke up with that damn tube down my throat.

Okay, I'd REALLY tried to prepare for this. I knew not to panic, I knew they wouldn't left me suffocate.

And I knew it'd be in for HOURS.

Luckily, I don't remember the specifics of this period--only that I kept thinking it was so much worse than I'd imagined. So. Much.

What I DO remember is that the nurses would ask if I was in pain, and I'd shake my head no, thinking, ASK THE RIGHT QUESTION.

Now, I'm not sure WHAT the right question was, but eventually, friend Kathleen (who held my hand the ENTIRE time), said: "Do you feel like you're choking?"

YES, I nodded.

At that point, I guess they suctioned me, or something, and then...(sorry about this)...I vomited. Well! At least I felt better after that!

The only other glaring memory of this special moment in time was my extreme desire to moisten my mouth. Finally, once they yanked the tube (after four hours), Kath was able to give me ice chips.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. My new BFF!!!!!! (In fact, I overdid it a bit and threw up again, but oh well.)

Anyway, this all occurred in the ICU and I don't remember much else except for how peaceful it was there, and how nice and professional the staff was. In the middle of the night, I could look through a small window and see one of the nurses at her desk, and it was so comforting!

More tomorrow...

P.S. My everlasting (and I mean EVERLASTING) thanks to Kath, Ann, and Polly for being there that Thursday. Hugs to you, my angels!

Foiled Again

2010-03-01T18:15:00.000-08:00

Is anyone sensing a pattern here?

Doc's office called at 4 this afternoon and canceled. Stay tuned.

If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium

2010-02-24T14:02:00.001-08:00

It was a movie, folks. Starring Suzanne Pleshette. Look it up, if you don't remember.

So, the movie's apropos of nothing except the new date for which my surgery is scheduled.

Next Tuesday, March 2nd.

Gulp. Gag. Shudder.

I hesitate to blast this news across the blogsphere, cuz...well, like, ya never know. Things can always change. For instance, tomorrow when I report in (for the second time) at the pre-registration soiree, the nurse may hear me hack (and/or wheeze) and decide my doc's scheduling person is nuts. (I mean, isn't it kind of important to be breathing properly when you have surgery?) Oh, well. Maybe by Tuesday.

Tuesday...................

Voicemails You Really Don't Wanna Hear on Your Cell

2010-02-23T10:31:00.001-08:00

"Hi, Randy. We're just following up to see how you're feeling and to tell you we've tentatively rescheduled you for Thursday."

Um, no...I don't think so. Let me stop hacking first....

Postponed!

2010-02-15T16:41:00.000-08:00

Wouldn't you know?? I get all psyched up for tomorrow's surgery....then wake up with a raspy throat on Saturday...followed by a slight cough on Sunday...followed by full-blown (note the pun) runny nose this morning.

Went to my 9:30 pre-registration appt this morning anyway, but as soon as I told the nurse about my cold, she summoned the "cardiac coordinator." She in turn tried contacting my surgeon's office but (hello!! holiday!!!), they were incommunicado. So then she called my doctor's cell phone. Found him on the ski slopes somewhere. (Um, seriously?? Ski slopes today, my HEART at 7 a.m. the next??)

He quickly instructed the nice coordinator lady to cancel me. Said we'd reschedule later.

Yeah, and maybe he gets another day on the slopes. Me? I'm in bed with a 100 degree temp that's rising.

Doesn't it just figure??

No Date Yet

2010-02-05T15:00:00.000-08:00

For those who keep asking, the answer is: NO. I still don't have the date of my upcoming surgery. But I'm pretty sure it'll be the week of February 15th...um...which is only a little more than a week away. Ya think I should start preparing....? Or should I just continue pretending I don't have to do it??

In other news, my dad (who fell last week and fractured hip) is being moved from the hospital to a nursing/rehab facility today.

Onward and upward, eh?

Eek! Not Yet!

2010-01-26T15:19:00.000-08:00

The good news (well, I GUESS it's good news) is that I got approval for less-invasive-guy (AKA Surgeon No. 2) at better-hospital-place (AKA St. Joseph's in Burbank). Hard to believe this went so smoothly after all the trouble I went to just to get the consult approval.

So here we are.

What's next?

Uh, I guess I have to actually schedule the, y'know...SURGERY.

I managed to punch the numbers on the phone and eventually got put through to the surgery scheduling person, a woman who sounded especially harried and busy. After I'd identified myself, she reported that yes, they'd just received their copy of the authorization but that she hadn't spoken to the surgeon yet.

"Are you on blood thinners?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Then, depending on the availability of the anesthesiologist, I think we'll be able to put you on the schedule for next week."

"WHOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Okay, I didn't really screech that, but I may have made a similar sound. And then I added that I wasn't quite, er, ready.

"When were you thinking you'd like to do this?"

Did I detect a slightly smirky tone...? As in, you'll do this whenever the surgeon can you fit you in?

No. Probably just me being a little sensitive. In any case, I offered up the third week in February (right after I get all our company insurance renewed, please--and the rest of my life, like, ORGANIZED) and she seemed to think that would work out.

Gack.

Other Sides Heard From

2010-01-22T14:30:00.000-08:00

Hey, people...remember who you're dealing with here. Queen of Wishy-wash. Devil's Advocate Extraordinaire. A woman with the ability to talk herself INTO...and OUT OF almost anything.

Which is why a couple incoming emails threw me into schizoid territory this week. Well-meaning votes for the traditional sternotomy instead of the less invasive approach.

Gah.

Decided it was time for extreme measures. Yes, I actually registered as a bona fide member at valvereplacement.com. And posed a question to fellow members who've gone through the "portal access" procedure...How, I asked, did you justify it to yourself in face of the arguments made against it?

Meanwhile, I'm checking on the status of my referral request. So far, I've been on hold for thirty-five minutes...and counting....

The Rain Don't Stay On the Plain

2010-01-20T14:20:00.001-08:00

Storm Watch 2010

2010-01-19T15:30:00.001-08:00

It's raining kitties and bow-wows, folks.

We Have A Winner!

2010-01-15T13:45:00.000-08:00

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Barring unforeseen circumstances, the guy in this picture will be doing the slicing and dicing. That is, if Health Net doesn't try to make my life miserable.

And, no...I didn't pick him based on looks. Shame on you. Perish the thought.

(Wink)

Not For The Squeamish

2010-01-14T16:00:00.001-08:00

Option 1.
Option 2.
Seems like a no-brainer, doesn't it??

What NOT To Say

2010-01-14T09:37:00.001-08:00

Here's a sweet exchange which occurred at a Bat Mitzvah I recently attended whereupon I encountered many old "friends."

Old "Friend": "I hear you need a heart valve replacement."

Me: "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Old "Friend": "Are you still smoking?"

Me (shrugging sheepishly): "Yes."

Old "Friend" (with a dismissive wave of the hand): "Then I don't feel sorry for you."

Isn't that nice? I think I mumbled something defensive about it being a congenital defect, not effected by smoking, and that in fact, my arteries are CLEAR, but I imagine the din of the party drowned out my protest.

I may never speak to this old "friend" again.

Title Change?

2010-01-13T09:03:00.000-08:00

In the old days, you'd be guessing this post might be about changing the title of a manuscript.

Ah...the old days.

Nope. Today I'm referring to how I should maybe change this to Randy Writes About Her Heart Valve Replacement. Talk about a catchy title, huh?

Anyway, it occurs to me that not everyone's on Facebook (where from time to time I drop a brief update on the progress I'm making toward heart surgery). Indeed, I hear frequently from readers who wonder where my blog has gone.

With that in mind, here's a quick recap:

After nephew Brian (without experiencing ANY symptoms) discovered SEVEN blocked arteries, I figured I'd better get checked out myself. Saw a cardiologist in September who wasn't happy with my heart murmur. More tests in October confirmed "severe aortic stenosis" or, in other words, badass narrowing of the aortic valve. Prescription: Aortic Valve Replacement (better known as AVR).

Next test was an angiogram (I believe I posted a picture of my hospitalized self on the blog somewhere) during which it was determined my arteries were clear, so no need to tack on Coronary Bypass Surgery to the AVR. Yay for small miracles.

Consulted a surgeon and got the low-down, but meanwhile did some research on my own. Something called Less Invasive Surgery sounded mucho appealing, but how to go about making it happen?

Ah...that's when "possible surgery in November" turned into the interminable wait. Without going into boring detail, let's just say it takes a Ph.D. to navigate the complicated terrain of health insurance, and I ain't got no Ph.D.

Cutting to the chase...I saw a second surgeon yesterday, one who does indeed do a less invasive procedure. Oh, wait. Let's back up for the uninitiated. Traditional AVR is where they hack your sternum down the middle, spread your ribcage open, and have at it.

Hence the interest in "less invasive."

As opposed to ripping your chest hope, the surgeon makes a smaller incision above the breast and goes through the ribs.

Ouch, no matter how you slice it. (Ha. Slice it. I crack myself up.)

Anyway, here's the dilemma: yeah, surgeon guy number two CAN and WILL do the "less invasive," but is it his first choice?

Uh, no.

Basically, his point was: Why not make it as easy as possible for the surgeon to do his job?

Hm.

Bottom line...more to think about--but not much time for it since yesterday's guy gave the impression that I need to get this accomplished sooner rather than later. ("Really? You're not having problems with passing out?")

Decisions, decisions...long time blog readers know I SUCK at making decisions!

Stay tuned....

I Could Get Used to Seeing This....

2010-01-07T14:36:00.000-08:00

Snapped with a cellphone as I stood in the living room of a condo my sister-in-law and I own in Pacific Beach. Tragically, the interior view is not as pretty...but it will be once we're done renovating!!

Mariachi Christmas with the Bay and Scopaz Family

2009-12-27T14:00:00.000-08:00

Christmas 2009

2009-12-25T22:53:00.002-08:00

Evan and the Mariachis

2009-12-21T09:15:00.001-08:00

Hm. Is it me, or does this video lack...er...SOUND?

UPDATED: Yeah, well...it helps to turn up the volume.

Treat Yourself

2009-12-09T13:14:00.000-08:00

Honey, It's All Downhill From Here

2009-11-16T09:22:00.000-08:00

Teen actress Dakota Fanning was crowned Homecoming Countess (what the hell's up with countess, anyway?) at Campbell Hall Episcopal School on a recent weekend.Flash back to 1967...Same school...

and yep. That's me in all my Homecoming Queen glory. Okay, so it was only a junior high then. And sure the crown was made from cardboard. But at least I was a Queen, not just a measly countess.

Always In Our Hearts

2009-11-10T21:42:00.000-08:00

Happy NaNo

2009-11-02T09:44:00.001-08:00

It's that time of year again...National Novel Writing Month, more fondly known as NaNoWriMo. Yes, I signed up again. No, I don't expect to finish since (God willing) I'll be getting that pesky heart surgery scheduled by the end of November.

In the meantime, BICHOK, folks. (Butt in chair, hands on keyboard.)

For Those of You Not on Facebook...

2009-10-27T11:03:00.001-07:00

Here's a couple choice photos of moi from last Saturday night. Go, Octomom! I won a ribbon and a Starbucks gift card for "most original." I think it was the cooler of frozen embryos (chocolate covered ice cream treats) that really propelled me to the win. Or maybe it was the introductory phrase, "Hi, I'm Octomom. As you can see" (gesturing toward crotchal area) "I've got babies coming out the wazoo." And yes, that's a test tube I used for a wine glass.

Ah, Halloween. What a nice distraction from heart valves and surgical procedures!

In Case I Decide on a Pig Valve...

2009-10-26T11:27:00.001-07:00

...I'm taking applications for donors...here are two that I received Saturday night.

Moo? Oink? Click?

2009-10-22T14:51:00.001-07:00

Them's my choices, folks.

Okay, I lied about the pig. That one wasn't offered. And the preponderance of guilt lies with the clicker.

Click click click.

And while it's clicking away, let me just run and get my protime numbers tested for all that Coumadin I'll have to take for the rest of my life.

Not an appealing option.

Speaking of unappealing options, how about that traditional surgery whereby the doc rips my sternum down the middle?

Yep, that's the recommendation.

Methinks it's time to entertain serious alternatives. I mean, they exist. Why can't I have them??

A Mutant In the Family

2009-10-16T09:06:00.000-07:00

That's what I feel like today. I mean, think about it. I'm the FIRST Bruskrud EVER to come out of an angiogram with a report of NO BLOCKED ARTERIES.

Yeah, I'm still fanning myself.

Don't get me wrong--I'm still headed for heart surgery, but with only one item on the menu. AND (keeping ALL fingers crossed) there's a chance I'll be able to have a less invasive technique--y'know, one that doesn't include ripping my sternum in half.

Sigh. BONUS.

Anyway, so I broke my cherry yesterday, hospitalwise. My first "johnnie," my first, admission bracelet, and yes...my first bedpan. Guess it all had to happen sooner or later, huh?

Mostly I was BORED having to lie in bed for 5 hours. (Thanks, balloon boy, for providing the entertainment!) So, naturally, I took the opportunity to snap a pic.

This is what a woman with clear arteries looks like!

Who's In Charge?

2009-10-13T21:40:00.000-07:00

Facing surgery and its concomitant hospital stay brings home the indisputable fact that I lack a bunch of familial branches to the tree. Namely, something called a husband. Or even a significant other. Let's not even mention the absence of children or (gulp)--since I'm chronologically old enough--grandchildren.

Oh, I've got parents, but geez. I'm currently taking care of them.

And there's my sister-in-law, but she's had enough experience with antiseptic-smelling waiting rooms to last a life time.

Hence, I'm kinda winging it. Here a friend, there a friend, everywhere a friend, friend. Ha.

I mean, doesn't someone have to be in charge of me once I enter those double doors?

And what about when I get out? Thursday is just the angiogram--an outpatient procedure--and I've had to make lists and schedules as though I were taking off on a three-week cruise.

Let the fun begin....

Huge Sigh....

2009-10-08T10:27:00.001-07:00

My cousin (second? third? two or three times removed??) posted this on Facebook yesterday. It's where she friggin' LIVES.

Update

2009-10-07T16:36:00.000-07:00

Just as I thought this whole mess might turn out to be a figment of my imagination, I got the call from Ashley at my doctor's office. Report in at 5:30a.m. next Thursday, she says. (Eeek. Let's all appreciate the ungodliness of that hour for a moment, shall we?) Anyway, yada yada. Angio at 7:30. Don't eat, don't drink, have someone available to drive you home and....

DON'T DRIVE FOR FIVE FRIGGIN DAYS.

Uh, hello? What the hell?

Turns out they put some sorta plug in your groin (there's a pretty thought) after the procedure, and the motion of stepping on and off between the brake and the gas might disturb the little sucker.

Okay, this news means I'm gonna have to do some fine-tuning of, y'know, my LIFE.

A Tip For Us Seniors

2009-10-06T09:21:00.001-07:00

People? When you hit the big 5-0 (and maybe even the lesser known 4-0), I've got four words for ya:

BUY THE TRIP INSURANCE.

Let's recap, shall we?

April - Puerto Vallarta for five days. Swine flu swept in and took my $1200 with it. (Let the record show, I wouldn't have allowed the little cooties to screw up my vacation, but since the bars were closed...)

June - Portland, Oregon. Canceled weekend visit with relatives when Daddy went into the hospital. Monetary loss: about $150. I think I have another $150 toward a trip sometime in the next year.

July - Washington, D.C. for the annual writer's conference I attend. Had to cancel when...well...all that crap hit the fan. Monetary loss: $450 for the conference and then (get this) I had to pay $150 to recoup the frequent flyer miles I'd used for the $5 airline ticket.

September - The Corque Hotel in Santa Ynez. Canceled after the deadline when I discovered my ticker could explode at any moment. $150.

More advice? Don't book any future trips with me.

Writing progress....

2009-10-02T14:16:00.000-07:00

In writing news, hey--did I ever get around to posting about the contest I won? Hm. Maybe not. Guess I could scroll down my site to check, but I'm too lazy. Anyway, back before life skidded to halt, flipped over, and rolled a couple times (figuratively speaking, of course), Jessica Faust and Kim Leonetti at Bookends Literary, held a pitch contest on their twitter pages. Perfect right? Pitch your idea in the miserably few number of characters Twitter allows? So I did. I pitched my current WIP...and I won a 3-chapter critique from Jessica! How utterly cool is that?

Then the shit hit the fan, and I became (cough) otherwise engaged. Shot off an email to Ms. Faust, begging for time and she graciously gave me until October first. Next thing I knew, three months had flown by so I sent in the three chapters this past Wednesday night.

I have to say, hitting "send" nearly made me feel like I was back in the writing game.

Time To Start Blogging Again?

2009-09-30T19:05:00.000-07:00

Hm. Dunno. Anyone still out there? Huh? Bueller?

For those of you out of the loop, I'm currently looking at heart surgery. Am thinking, should I blog this episode of my life? Do I have the energy? At least I could use ye here blog as a repository for info, I guess.

To wit, here's the update of the day:

Just to keep you updated, I did the treadmill test today. I was scared to death!! Especially when they tell you stuff like, "well, the reason you couldn't eat for six hours before the test is because in case you have to go straight to surgery, you need to be on an empty stomach." Yikes! By the time I finally stood up (after waiting and waiting on the table) to take the treadmill, I was a bit dizzy just from nerves. Then they give you all these instructions about 'tell us if you have pain here or pain there or you're dizzy or you're short of breath etc. etc'--I was afraid I wouldn't remember them all! So, of course, I'm doing as instructed--staring straight ahead--at this picture (kind of Monet-esque) of trees with all these leaves, and I swear to God, the LEAVES were making me dizzy! I almost told them to stop the test; I truly thought I was having the reaction that would send me to surgery. And then I got it together, focused on my own reflection in the glass, and was fine. It wasn't one of those tests where they just keep ratcheting up the incline and speed (whew, thank God), they had a target rate programmed in. That comforted me. I only had to walk for six minutes and I made it to the end. (Yay)

She said my "capacity for exercise" was slightly diminished, and I thought...only slightly?? Well, hey! Bring on the margaritas!

Okay, but bottom line, she DID say, yeah...I have to have this valve replacement but it's not a matter of TOMORROW; more like within the next couple of months and, to tell you the truth, this was the best news I could have heard.

There's still the issue of the other arteries--she basically said they're probably screwed cuz it all goes hand-in-hand, but oh well. So I'll do the one-stop shopping thing. I gather that the reasoning is, why do stents when you're gonna have the heart available for bypass? (Ugh. Did I just type BYPASS?)

Anyway...I guess I must have done a good SELL to my parents over the phone cuz they practically high-fived me when I got there. (Not sure if they misunderstood something, but oh well!)

After the appointment, I picked up some fancy new lipsticks, had lunch on the patio of my favorite restaurant with one of my best friends, and well...life is GOOD at the moment!!