Shall we cut to the chase?
I did it!!!!!!!!
Last week, at this very moment, I slipped into la-la land (well, let’s face it, more like SNOOZE CITY) in a last-ditch attempt to regain my youth...Ha. Kidding. I’m under no such illusion. Actually, the simple truth is that after a year of peering at myself in the mirror each morning and thinking I don’t wanna go through the rest of my life looking like this woman who’s become a stranger, I plunked down an obscene amount of money and scheduled a face lift plus upper and lower eyes.
Yay, me!
See, it’s not ALL about vanity, although (raises hand), there’s obviously a component in there somewhere. For me, more importantly, the decision to lose my surgenic virginity (yeah, I just made that up), boiled down to two issues: one, my friggin eyebrow muscles were exhausted from the effort of hoisting up my eyelids when I wanted to do stuff like...oh, I dunno...SEE; and two, the whole saggy thing going on with the rest of my face translated (in my mind) to sloppiness. (Longtime blogreaders will recall my love/hate relationship with sloppiness−I’m some sort of recalcitrant Virgo.)
Anyway, then this weird chick started showing up in my photographs. She wore her hair the same way as I, and she visited the same vacation spots. But I didn’t recognize her face−namely, her smile−and then it came to me. That poor smile has to prop up those big fat bags under her eyes−no wonder her lips are straining. Of course, that girl was me.
Lastly (okay, I guess I lied−we’re up to four issues now, aren’t we?), it came down to that lonely but necessary task we women face (no pun intended) every morning of our lives. I’m talkin’ about staring into that lighted make-up mirror−the one with the magnification so that our aging eyes catch those rogue hairs sprouting from our chins. (More lying−I don’t own the kind with the magnification but the lights are bad enough.) I mean, is that any way to start out a perfectly good day when you’re 55 years old? You’re practically doomed before the coffee cools off.
So, yeah. Cosmetic surgery was definitely on my radar and the blips were growing in frequency and decibels.
But first, as you know, I had to quit smoking. Major stumbling block, and it took months getting around to. Trust me, I get it. When it comes to healing, you definitely want your oxygen carrying blood guys firing on all pistons, and guess what−nicotine (and all the rest of the crap in cigarettes) tends to screw with the efficiency of that whole system. So, yeah. First up, I had to quit smoking.
Then, of course, I had to schedule time off. Hey, January’s as good a time as any.
Finally...well, let’s just say, business turned around mid-way last year, allowing me to feel comfortable spending a chunk of money on....ME.
I’d already done my research and in-person consults back in April, so I knew the name of the surgeon I wanted wielding the knife. He came with the added bonus of being local (between my driveway and his office, there are only two turns!−okay, spread out over about 5 miles, but still...), and he’d performed surgery on a friend of mine. (Total coincidence! I found him first! I found him first!)
Anyway, so that part was easy, and on a Wednesday in January, I found my fingers punching out the numbers to his office where the lovely Nicole suggested a date not even two weeks away.
Gulp.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s get ‘er done.” (So, see? Remember all that stuff I blogged about−the switching of the beds, the upgrading of the TV, etc. etc.? Ha. That was my version of pre-op prep!)
Also high on the prep list was securing the services of lifelong friend Kathleen. A respiratory therapist by profession, I knew that if she were available, she’d be here in a heartbeat, ready to hold my hand and take care of the yucky stuff. Little did I know that having her on-board would also make the experience...er, dare I say it...FUN?
Coming up tomorrow...oh, who knows? I haven’t written it yet. Maybe something about fear. Yeah, that’ll be good. What do you suppose my two greatest fears were?
(Note: I have no idea how many posts this’ll turn out to be, but I promise pictures at the end!)
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Monday, February 02, 2009
First Line Contest -- An Update
Hey, all...remember that contest I entered awhile back? I'm still in the running, so how cool is that? In case you've forgotten, it's at author Karin Tabke's blog, and it's where you add a line from your manuscript each week until you get axed by the judge. Here's my entry thus far:
Looking back, my mid-life crisis began on a Tuesday in March, right there on aisle twelve of the local supermarket between the laxatives and the condoms. That’s the day I confronted an assortment of tampon boxes and wondered if my diminishing egg production warranted the forty-eight count economy size. See, I worried about a future when the half-empty box, now faded and kinda tattered around the edges, still sat beneath the sink ready to mock me every time I reached for a hair dryer or fresh roll of TP.
This is from my current WIP--the one mysteriously titled JATAOMM for now. I've written about 70 pages and read it through just the other night. Looks like that month-long stall I've been in is nearly over (go, ME!).
Meanwhile, be sure to look for tomorrow's post. I'm working on a marathon entry about last week's doings (astute blogreaders--well, plus friends and relatives--you guys know what I'm talkin' about.)
Looking back, my mid-life crisis began on a Tuesday in March, right there on aisle twelve of the local supermarket between the laxatives and the condoms. That’s the day I confronted an assortment of tampon boxes and wondered if my diminishing egg production warranted the forty-eight count economy size. See, I worried about a future when the half-empty box, now faded and kinda tattered around the edges, still sat beneath the sink ready to mock me every time I reached for a hair dryer or fresh roll of TP.
“Can I help you find something, ma’am?”
“Yeah, could you put out an APB on my youth?” A rhetorical question, but when the kid gasped and made a move as though to summon the men in white suits, I dredged up a reassuring smile. “Just kidding,” I lied, vaguely trying to pinpoint the moment in life when I’d gone from miss to ma’am.
This is from my current WIP--the one mysteriously titled JATAOMM for now. I've written about 70 pages and read it through just the other night. Looks like that month-long stall I've been in is nearly over (go, ME!).
Meanwhile, be sure to look for tomorrow's post. I'm working on a marathon entry about last week's doings (astute blogreaders--well, plus friends and relatives--you guys know what I'm talkin' about.)
Friday, January 30, 2009
Losing Count
Yay! A contract in the mail for April's issue of True Romance. I think that makes...22??
Monday, January 26, 2009
Being Prepared
Change light bulbs too high for me to reach...Check
Fix switch in kitchen so lights work...Check
Turn valve on furnace to "on" position for heat...Check
Swap Queen-size bed for Full size bed...Check
Do lots of laundry...Check
Buy 42" flat screen TV...Check
Get rid of old cabinet...Check
Buy bookcase...Check
Assemble bookcase...Check
Stock with myriad of books currently littering floor...Check
Clean up patio...Check
Clean out refrigerator...Check
Clean out pantry...Check
Manicure/pedicure...Check
Probably a million other things to do...but good enough for now.
Tomorrow I'm getting a new car. Oops. Sorry. I meant a new face.
Stay tuned...
Fix switch in kitchen so lights work...Check
Turn valve on furnace to "on" position for heat...Check
Swap Queen-size bed for Full size bed...Check
Do lots of laundry...Check
Buy 42" flat screen TV...Check
Get rid of old cabinet...Check
Buy bookcase...Check
Assemble bookcase...Check
Stock with myriad of books currently littering floor...Check
Clean up patio...Check
Clean out refrigerator...Check
Clean out pantry...Check
Manicure/pedicure...Check
Probably a million other things to do...but good enough for now.
Tomorrow I'm getting a new car. Oops. Sorry. I meant a new face.
Stay tuned...
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Ye Olde Silver Lining
As a public service to myself, I thought I’d assemble in one coherent little speech the benefits I’ve observed thus far from giving up cigarettes.
It goes without saying, of course, that the health benefits are plentiful. (Contrary to what nonsmokers believe, smokers are not ignorant in this regard. Many of us have deep-seated, very complex motivations for continuing to smoke in the face of all the evidence.) Anyway, so let’s skip the physical aspects and get right to the rest.
1. I no longer worry about running out of cigarettes which, extrapolated, means I no longer worry about stopping to buy them on the way to an engagement. (Corollary: I don’t worry about having to stop on the way HOME either.)
2. When I arrive at a restaurant, I no longer immediately scope out all possible smoking venues. (Corollary: I also don’t have to pre-plan the timing between cocktails at the bar and being seated at the table, nor how I’m going to politely excuse myself after dinner to duck outside.)
3. Not smoking opens up the dating pool by wide margins.
4. In public, when I’m sitting next to a stranger, I don’t have to worry about offending him or her with the scent (stench?) of cigarettes from my clothes. (Although, let the record show I’ve always LOVED the smell of smoke—stale or otherwise. Even an overloaded ashtray doesn’t gross me out.)
5. I don’t have to feel like the marginalized second-class citizen California has made smokers into.
6. By not purchasing cigarettes, I can save enough money to pay for an additional week-long vacation per year.
7. In order to keep my mind off smoking, I busy myself with chores around the house I may have ignored before.
8. It’s a fascinating lesson in proving to myself that I can be modestly successful at something I didn’t think I could achieve at all.
9. I'm allowed to have cosmetic surgery. (Just sayin.’)
Having listed the above, here’s what I miss about smoking:
EVERYTHING.
It goes without saying, of course, that the health benefits are plentiful. (Contrary to what nonsmokers believe, smokers are not ignorant in this regard. Many of us have deep-seated, very complex motivations for continuing to smoke in the face of all the evidence.) Anyway, so let’s skip the physical aspects and get right to the rest.
1. I no longer worry about running out of cigarettes which, extrapolated, means I no longer worry about stopping to buy them on the way to an engagement. (Corollary: I don’t worry about having to stop on the way HOME either.)
2. When I arrive at a restaurant, I no longer immediately scope out all possible smoking venues. (Corollary: I also don’t have to pre-plan the timing between cocktails at the bar and being seated at the table, nor how I’m going to politely excuse myself after dinner to duck outside.)
3. Not smoking opens up the dating pool by wide margins.
4. In public, when I’m sitting next to a stranger, I don’t have to worry about offending him or her with the scent (stench?) of cigarettes from my clothes. (Although, let the record show I’ve always LOVED the smell of smoke—stale or otherwise. Even an overloaded ashtray doesn’t gross me out.)
5. I don’t have to feel like the marginalized second-class citizen California has made smokers into.
6. By not purchasing cigarettes, I can save enough money to pay for an additional week-long vacation per year.
7. In order to keep my mind off smoking, I busy myself with chores around the house I may have ignored before.
8. It’s a fascinating lesson in proving to myself that I can be modestly successful at something I didn’t think I could achieve at all.
9. I'm allowed to have cosmetic surgery. (Just sayin.’)
Having listed the above, here’s what I miss about smoking:
EVERYTHING.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Reflections On A Milestone
Okay, confession time. I’m feeling overly-saturated by the news coverage of the inauguration, the pre-inauguration and the pre-pre-inauguration. Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for celebrating the occasion on which the first African American takes office. But (to paraphrase Peggy Lee), is that all he is? The first Black president? I, for one, am hoping for much, much, more!
Like, I’m hoping he’s as bright, thoughtful, and serenely confident as he appears-- whether he’s green, black or purple. To get all caught up in his ethnic heritage is, to me, disrespectful (besides being only half-accurate). It vaguely implies that perhaps his color is the ONLY reason he got elected—like, the American electorate finally got hip enough to accept someone other than a white man. As though you could have substituted ANY African-American candidate this season because—whew, thank God, America’s finally ready for it.
No, it wasn’t timing. And, in my humble opinion based on nothing but gut instinct, our country elected the MAN, not the African-American...and THAT’S what the celebration should be about.
Like, I’m hoping he’s as bright, thoughtful, and serenely confident as he appears-- whether he’s green, black or purple. To get all caught up in his ethnic heritage is, to me, disrespectful (besides being only half-accurate). It vaguely implies that perhaps his color is the ONLY reason he got elected—like, the American electorate finally got hip enough to accept someone other than a white man. As though you could have substituted ANY African-American candidate this season because—whew, thank God, America’s finally ready for it.
No, it wasn’t timing. And, in my humble opinion based on nothing but gut instinct, our country elected the MAN, not the African-American...and THAT’S what the celebration should be about.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Name That View
Give up? Okay, I'll give ya a clue. There's wagering involved, but the place isn't owned by Indians (um, that sounds politically incorrect, but they ARE called Indian casinos, right?). Anyway, after a long, long, weekend spent avoiding cigarettes (meaning, I went NOWHERE and stayed away from the computer), Ann called on Sunday, suggesting we hit a movie.
Okay, I said. (Yes! I can sit in a dark theater without threat of giving in to the evil smoking demons!)
But then, as I primped in front of the make-up mirror, I heard the Real Housewives of the OC in the background and the bitches, I mean LADIES (hey, will someone tell those chicks that putting a hat on your head doesn't make you classy?) were at the racetrack.
Ding ding ding!
Quick call to Ann.
About an hour later, we traded a darkened theater for The Derby Club in Ventura, arriving in time for a late lunch and the 5th race (on which I won a medium longshot Exacta thankyouverymuch!)
I love it when a last-minute plan comes together.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Just An Observation...
When I take my mortgage payment to the bank, they practically throw a parade...
(See, this is precisely the kind of post that Twitter's good for.)
(See, this is precisely the kind of post that Twitter's good for.)
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Signs I'm Over-analyzing
If it were humanly feasible (and it probably is, I just haven’t tried hard enough), I would eat from the moment I woke up in the morning till the moment I laid my head on the pillow at night.
No bullshit.
Moreover, in a perfect world, I’d consume nothing but junk food—a lifetime smorgasbord of nachos, fries, chex mix, and cashews, minute by minute, hour by hour.
Of course, I’d be as big as a modern-day zeppelin, and my arteries would need a case of Liquid Plummer, which is why, alas, I restrain myself. Yes folks, I do. Every day of my life, I count calories, I eat Lean Cuisines, I skip meals—I DEPRIVE myself.
But at least with the whole food thing, there’s no saying: “I will NEVER eat again.”
Unlike with the whole smoking thing.
Knowing the difference makes quitting a lot tougher.
I mean, no matter what—I’ll ALWAYS be able to eat another donut. Eventually...even if it’s far off in the future.
No bullshit.
Moreover, in a perfect world, I’d consume nothing but junk food—a lifetime smorgasbord of nachos, fries, chex mix, and cashews, minute by minute, hour by hour.
Of course, I’d be as big as a modern-day zeppelin, and my arteries would need a case of Liquid Plummer, which is why, alas, I restrain myself. Yes folks, I do. Every day of my life, I count calories, I eat Lean Cuisines, I skip meals—I DEPRIVE myself.
But at least with the whole food thing, there’s no saying: “I will NEVER eat again.”
Unlike with the whole smoking thing.
Knowing the difference makes quitting a lot tougher.
I mean, no matter what—I’ll ALWAYS be able to eat another donut. Eventually...even if it’s far off in the future.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Blogless in Simi
Geez folks, I don't know what's up these days with my blog. Mostly, I just can't think of a topic worthy of more than one line.
Like this:
Try www.pandora.com for a cool way to discover new musicians in your preferred genre.
Or this:
If you miss being able to phone the time lady to get the right time, go here
But I'm also having trouble stringing words together.
Like this:
Blah, blah...literary vs. genre fiction...blah, blah...the difference.....
Do you suppose it's too much oxygen to the brain?
Like this:
Try www.pandora.com for a cool way to discover new musicians in your preferred genre.
Or this:
If you miss being able to phone the time lady to get the right time, go here
But I'm also having trouble stringing words together.
Like this:
Blah, blah...literary vs. genre fiction...blah, blah...the difference.....
Do you suppose it's too much oxygen to the brain?
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Not Your Mother's Pravda
I did my morning Internet run-through a few minutes ago, starting with The Drudge Report. Dutifully, I clicked on the headline about how the world is heading for a new Ice Age because, after all, I'm nothing if not hot and cold on the whole climate change issue. Global warming...Ice Age...It's all a toss-up, isn't it? Anyway, I figured I'd check out the latest doomsday prediction.
Naturally, I was quickly distracted by yet another headline on the cover page, this one titled "Hollywood Stars Disappear As They Try To Lose Weight."
Sign me up! I LUVS me a series of before and after photos of ridiculously thin movie stars! So I click on picture after picture, slightly nauseated by the standard set by our society for "beauty." And saddened for these ladies that they live this way.
But then I'm distracted yet AGAIN.
I'm reading this where...??
In PRAVDA? As in...THE Pravda? The one in Russia?
Sure enough. Only I'm reading the English version.
Okay, so when did we f-up the Ruskies with our tabloid-style version of journalism...?
Naturally, I was quickly distracted by yet another headline on the cover page, this one titled "Hollywood Stars Disappear As They Try To Lose Weight."
Sign me up! I LUVS me a series of before and after photos of ridiculously thin movie stars! So I click on picture after picture, slightly nauseated by the standard set by our society for "beauty." And saddened for these ladies that they live this way.
But then I'm distracted yet AGAIN.
I'm reading this where...??
In PRAVDA? As in...THE Pravda? The one in Russia?
Sure enough. Only I'm reading the English version.
Okay, so when did we f-up the Ruskies with our tabloid-style version of journalism...?
Friday, January 09, 2009
Every Culture Has Its Pancake
Think about it.
Mexico...has the tortilla
France...has the crepe
China...has that mung bean thing, better known as moo-shoo
And Norway has LEFSE.
This holiday season, being of Norwegian heritage, I had a hankering for some, which led me to Google which led me to Mrs. Olson's in Minnesota. Clickity-click and bam! Minutes later, a supply of lefse was winging its way across America, headed for ME.
So what is lefse, you ask?
All you really need to know is that it's made from potatoes. (I mean, seriously. Potatoes. What could be better?) To see the process, click here. Traditionally, you throw a little butter on it and maybe some sugar. Me, I added some cinnamon to the mix. Mmmmm. Plus, one day I found my self without store-bought bread, so I tossed a bunch of shredded cheese into the center of a slice and made...you guessed it...a Norwegian quesadilla.
Hey, don't laugh. This morning I stumbled across this darling lunch place called The Lefse House, located in (of all places) Alberta, Canada. Look what I found on the menu!!!!
Norwegian Nachos ~ $ 8.95
Crisp flatbread chips covered with
your choice of cheddar or gjetost
cheese, with sour cream, salsa,
and chives.
Okay, am I in heaven or WHAT? Norwegian Nachos, for God's sakes! These people are friggin' BRILLIANT! (And why can't I turn of the italics???)
Crap. Now, I'm hungry and I've exhausted my lefse supply...off to do some more clickety-clicking. And the italics is driving me crazy.
Mexico...has the tortilla
France...has the crepe
China...has that mung bean thing, better known as moo-shoo
And Norway has LEFSE.
This holiday season, being of Norwegian heritage, I had a hankering for some, which led me to Google which led me to Mrs. Olson's in Minnesota. Clickity-click and bam! Minutes later, a supply of lefse was winging its way across America, headed for ME.
So what is lefse, you ask?
All you really need to know is that it's made from potatoes. (I mean, seriously. Potatoes. What could be better?) To see the process, click here. Traditionally, you throw a little butter on it and maybe some sugar. Me, I added some cinnamon to the mix. Mmmmm. Plus, one day I found my self without store-bought bread, so I tossed a bunch of shredded cheese into the center of a slice and made...you guessed it...a Norwegian quesadilla.Hey, don't laugh. This morning I stumbled across this darling lunch place called The Lefse House, located in (of all places) Alberta, Canada. Look what I found on the menu!!!!
Norwegian Nachos ~ $ 8.95
Crisp flatbread chips covered with
your choice of cheddar or gjetost
cheese, with sour cream, salsa,
and chives.
Okay, am I in heaven or WHAT? Norwegian Nachos, for God's sakes! These people are friggin' BRILLIANT! (And why can't I turn of the italics???)
Crap. Now, I'm hungry and I've exhausted my lefse supply...off to do some more clickety-clicking. And the italics is driving me crazy.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Read 'Em And Weep
Stumbled across these sad, sad, statistics on the blogs of Agents Kristin Nelson and Jennifer Jackson for 2008.
Queries Received
Nelson -- 35,000
Jackson -- 6,500
Full Manuscripts Requested
Nelson -- 88
Jackson -- 10
New Clients Signed
Nelson -- 2
Jackson -- 6
I'm not even gonna bother doing the math. Y'know...come up with percentages and stuff that'd really make my eyeballs bleed. The numbers kinda speak for themselves.
Now let's look at my submissions for the year, shall we? (Get ready: this could be equally scary.)
Looks like I sent out 16+ queries last year--a mixture of one-page letters and partials for both Leftovers and Lights! Camera! Love! From those, I got four requests (3 for partials, 1 for a full). Considering most "experts" say you should query 100 agents before giving up on a project, I'm thinking I should, um, amp up my efforts for 2009 (although, based on the above agent stats, you can forgive me for feeling like why bother.)
Sigh. That's why this biz ain't for the weak-of-heart, boys and girls.
*Sidenote: (I also submitted and sold about 10 stories--averaging about 35 pages each--to True Romance last year, so I'm not quite the slacker I appear. Ha.)
Queries Received
Nelson -- 35,000
Jackson -- 6,500
Full Manuscripts Requested
Nelson -- 88
Jackson -- 10
New Clients Signed
Nelson -- 2
Jackson -- 6
I'm not even gonna bother doing the math. Y'know...come up with percentages and stuff that'd really make my eyeballs bleed. The numbers kinda speak for themselves.
Now let's look at my submissions for the year, shall we? (Get ready: this could be equally scary.)
Looks like I sent out 16+ queries last year--a mixture of one-page letters and partials for both Leftovers and Lights! Camera! Love! From those, I got four requests (3 for partials, 1 for a full). Considering most "experts" say you should query 100 agents before giving up on a project, I'm thinking I should, um, amp up my efforts for 2009 (although, based on the above agent stats, you can forgive me for feeling like why bother.)
Sigh. That's why this biz ain't for the weak-of-heart, boys and girls.
*Sidenote: (I also submitted and sold about 10 stories--averaging about 35 pages each--to True Romance last year, so I'm not quite the slacker I appear. Ha.)
Monday, January 05, 2009
Blog? I Own A Blog?
Oh, yeah. That thing on the Internet. My blah-blah-blog.
Kinda reflective of my blah-blah-life (as of late). I mean, COME ON. I didn't even drink a COCKTAIL on New Year's Eve. What sort of start to 2009 is THAT? Sad, I tell you. Simply pathetic. Don't get me started on the rest of the New Year's weekend. It wasn't pretty but for very different reasons.
In news of a more positive light, I'm still in the running over at Karen Tabke's first line contest. How fun is that?
And in smoking updates...well, let's just say it's been over three weeks since I had a cigarette at work and leave it at that, shall we? (Practice. This stuff takes PRACTICE.)
As for New Year's Resolutions.......are ya kiddin' me?
Kinda reflective of my blah-blah-life (as of late). I mean, COME ON. I didn't even drink a COCKTAIL on New Year's Eve. What sort of start to 2009 is THAT? Sad, I tell you. Simply pathetic. Don't get me started on the rest of the New Year's weekend. It wasn't pretty but for very different reasons.
In news of a more positive light, I'm still in the running over at Karen Tabke's first line contest. How fun is that?
And in smoking updates...well, let's just say it's been over three weeks since I had a cigarette at work and leave it at that, shall we? (Practice. This stuff takes PRACTICE.)
As for New Year's Resolutions.......are ya kiddin' me?
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
118-210-57-71-91-15-163-5
Nope. Not winning lotto numbers. Only the freeways it took to get to last weekend's reunion get together in San Diego with my kindergarten/junior high/college chums.
The good news? TONS of blogable material!
The bad news? We're all so OLD, none of us can remember any of it!
Oh, well. Here are pictures:
This one's the view from Nancy and Kathy's CORNER room at the Manchester Hyatt. (Yeah, corner room--what a score, huh?) And considering the hotel was teeming (no pun intended) with Oklahoma State folks on tap for the Holiday Bowl, we were surprised to get upgraded. Well, at least half of us.)
Here I think I can safely interpret some confusion over a gift...? Nancy appears slightly afraid. Either that, or they're both trying to hide their hands so as not to give away their true ages for the photo. Ha ha.
View from the ninth floor. Now, does this look like cold weather to you? Right. It wasn't. All those sweaters, jackets, boots and gloves? Totally unnecessary. Sigh. That's California for ya.
We had LATE lunch at this cute place in Seaport Village before heading off to yet another venue, this time for alcoholic libations cuz, y'know, we hadn't had
enough the prior evening.
And last but not least, for your viewing pleasure, an obscure shot of the guy I drooled over during cocktail hour.
Don't worry. I didn't make it too obvious--I cropped Kath out of the picture.
The good news? TONS of blogable material!
The bad news? We're all so OLD, none of us can remember any of it!
Oh, well. Here are pictures:
This one's the view from Nancy and Kathy's CORNER room at the Manchester Hyatt. (Yeah, corner room--what a score, huh?) And considering the hotel was teeming (no pun intended) with Oklahoma State folks on tap for the Holiday Bowl, we were surprised to get upgraded. Well, at least half of us.)Here I think I can safely interpret some confusion over a gift...? Nancy appears slightly afraid. Either that, or they're both trying to hide their hands so as not to give away their true ages for the photo. Ha ha.
View from the ninth floor. Now, does this look like cold weather to you? Right. It wasn't. All those sweaters, jackets, boots and gloves? Totally unnecessary. Sigh. That's California for ya.
We had LATE lunch at this cute place in Seaport Village before heading off to yet another venue, this time for alcoholic libations cuz, y'know, we hadn't had
enough the prior evening.
And last but not least, for your viewing pleasure, an obscure shot of the guy I drooled over during cocktail hour.
Don't worry. I didn't make it too obvious--I cropped Kath out of the picture.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Merry Christmas
As I traipse off to the annual Christmas luncheon to partake in traditional fare like tacos and enchiladas (not to mention margaritas), I urge you to consider one thing:
'Tis the season to SPEND, SPEND, SPEND...so get out there and do your patriotic duty.
Oh, and have a happy holiday.
'Tis the season to SPEND, SPEND, SPEND...so get out there and do your patriotic duty.Oh, and have a happy holiday.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
A Progress Report
I'm sure a few of you are wondering how I'm doing on the smoking thing. Mostly, I'm amused by the vast spectrum of reactions from my friends and relatives.
To some, even one cigarette means I've totally failed.
To others, 12 cigarettes in a week's time is nothing short of miraculous.
Let's just say there's a special place in my heart for 'the others.'
The positive:
I went two entire days (yes, 48 hours) before my first cheat. You may think that sucks, but hear me out: The last time I went even 24 hours without a cigarette was 1982.
So I'm getting better at it.
After the first cheat, I didn't have a cigarette on the following day. Yes, I had to stay home on a Friday night, avoid the computer, and go to bed early to achieve that milestone, but I figure if that's what it takes...
I would have done better on Saturday if I hadn't discovered two leftover cigarettes in a pack I'd thought empty. Turns out I'm not gonna be one of those people who can leave cigarettes lying around just to prove I'm above temptation. Still...I only smoked one of them right then and there.
I haven't smoked a cigarette at work in over a week.
I haven't smoked a cigarette while getting ready for work in over a week.
I haven't smoked a cigarette while driving to or from work in over a week.
By the way, did I mention I'm taking the drug "Chantix?" (Yeah, that's the one airline pilots are prohibited from using because suicidal thoughts are a possible side effect, although the whole process of trying to quit smoking is so stressful, I'm wondering how you can tell the difference.) Anyway, it's supposed to block the receptors in your brain from experiencing the God-given pleasure that nicotine brings. Now, logic makes me note that you have to SMOKE for this to work, don't you? Guess that's why they say it's okay to cheat during the first month. Plus, I'd swear that sometimes I THINK about smoking and those little nicotine receptors perk up (I picture them as puppies pawing at the air for treats) but because of the Chantix, nothing happens. They're left bereft--like at the airport when you see people waiting at the gate for a dearly-loved relative who doesn't show up.
So sad, it makes you wanna weep. (Yeah, for the airport people, too.)
To some, even one cigarette means I've totally failed.
To others, 12 cigarettes in a week's time is nothing short of miraculous.
Let's just say there's a special place in my heart for 'the others.'
The positive:
I went two entire days (yes, 48 hours) before my first cheat. You may think that sucks, but hear me out: The last time I went even 24 hours without a cigarette was 1982.
So I'm getting better at it.
After the first cheat, I didn't have a cigarette on the following day. Yes, I had to stay home on a Friday night, avoid the computer, and go to bed early to achieve that milestone, but I figure if that's what it takes...
I would have done better on Saturday if I hadn't discovered two leftover cigarettes in a pack I'd thought empty. Turns out I'm not gonna be one of those people who can leave cigarettes lying around just to prove I'm above temptation. Still...I only smoked one of them right then and there.
I haven't smoked a cigarette at work in over a week.
I haven't smoked a cigarette while getting ready for work in over a week.
I haven't smoked a cigarette while driving to or from work in over a week.
By the way, did I mention I'm taking the drug "Chantix?" (Yeah, that's the one airline pilots are prohibited from using because suicidal thoughts are a possible side effect, although the whole process of trying to quit smoking is so stressful, I'm wondering how you can tell the difference.) Anyway, it's supposed to block the receptors in your brain from experiencing the God-given pleasure that nicotine brings. Now, logic makes me note that you have to SMOKE for this to work, don't you? Guess that's why they say it's okay to cheat during the first month. Plus, I'd swear that sometimes I THINK about smoking and those little nicotine receptors perk up (I picture them as puppies pawing at the air for treats) but because of the Chantix, nothing happens. They're left bereft--like at the airport when you see people waiting at the gate for a dearly-loved relative who doesn't show up.
So sad, it makes you wanna weep. (Yeah, for the airport people, too.)
Monday, December 22, 2008
Is It January Yet??
Geez...it was one festive event after another this past weekend. I'm exhausted, and I think I've already done the 7-lb. holiday upload.
I only took pics at one event, and here they are (well, some of them...the good ones--i.e., none of the photos taken of ME--ugh, wince, gag.) We begin with the traditional "first photo with the Mariachis," so that's 10-month old Evan with mom Tanya (Blogreader Joe's niece). Evan looks fascinated, doesn't he?
Old hands Travis (l) and Trevor (r) are future-Mariachis-in-training.
Aw...cousins...give little Evan a couple more years, and this trio will no doubt instill terror in the heart of Mom/Aunt Renee.
Finally, for your listening pleasure, something from violinist Miguel.
I only took pics at one event, and here they are (well, some of them...the good ones--i.e., none of the photos taken of ME--ugh, wince, gag.) We begin with the traditional "first photo with the Mariachis," so that's 10-month old Evan with mom Tanya (Blogreader Joe's niece). Evan looks fascinated, doesn't he?
Old hands Travis (l) and Trevor (r) are future-Mariachis-in-training.
Aw...cousins...give little Evan a couple more years, and this trio will no doubt instill terror in the heart of Mom/Aunt Renee.
Finally, for your listening pleasure, something from violinist Miguel.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Just A Regular Thursday--Not
It was early, it was freezing, and I hadn't had a cigarette in over 24 hours.
These are my excuses for what you're about to read.
I was running late, and as I tore out of the bedroom, I spied a bottle of water and tossed it into my purse. Okay, now flash forward to a vision of me driving along Highway 23, enjoying the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Instead of having a cigarette, I decided to pop open the water.
Only, I couldn't get the cap off. Even when I pressed in the two little indented thingies.
Struggle, struggle...ah! Finally.
I went to take a swig...
One of those weird, split second thoughts flashed through my mind--how did I manage to get nail polish remover around the rim of the bottle?--before I filled my mouth with this:
Instead of this:
Not good, folks. Trust me. But what could I do? I was driving! Couldn't just spit it out all over myself. Couldn't swallow it. To tell you the truth, the next few minutes are a little hazy. I think I found a breath mint to add to the lacquer-like taste. Then I grabbed some old receipts out of the glove box and performed a swabbing maneuver.
Ugh. Yuck.
Fortunately, I then (miracle of miracles) happened to notice a REAL water bottle in the passenger seat--hm, no safety cap, shoulda been a clue--and downed it in three seconds (no doubt spreading poison throughout my system).
Anyway, it's been a couple hours, and I haven't gone into anaphylactic (sp?) shock or anything, so I think we're cool.
But, remember: Indented side thingies on water bottle are probably a BAD SIGN.
These are my excuses for what you're about to read.
I was running late, and as I tore out of the bedroom, I spied a bottle of water and tossed it into my purse. Okay, now flash forward to a vision of me driving along Highway 23, enjoying the snow-capped mountains in the distance. Instead of having a cigarette, I decided to pop open the water.
Only, I couldn't get the cap off. Even when I pressed in the two little indented thingies.
Struggle, struggle...ah! Finally.
I went to take a swig...
One of those weird, split second thoughts flashed through my mind--how did I manage to get nail polish remover around the rim of the bottle?--before I filled my mouth with this:
Instead of this:
Not good, folks. Trust me. But what could I do? I was driving! Couldn't just spit it out all over myself. Couldn't swallow it. To tell you the truth, the next few minutes are a little hazy. I think I found a breath mint to add to the lacquer-like taste. Then I grabbed some old receipts out of the glove box and performed a swabbing maneuver.
Ugh. Yuck.
Fortunately, I then (miracle of miracles) happened to notice a REAL water bottle in the passenger seat--hm, no safety cap, shoulda been a clue--and downed it in three seconds (no doubt spreading poison throughout my system).
Anyway, it's been a couple hours, and I haven't gone into anaphylactic (sp?) shock or anything, so I think we're cool.
But, remember: Indented side thingies on water bottle are probably a BAD SIGN.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Where There's A Will There's A Won't
I remember the day I discovered that some of the jobs I thought of as belonging to men were, in fact, things I could do. (Actually, I owe this epiphany to former roommate and lifelong friend, Kathleen. She was a whiz around the house.) As I recall, picture hanging was the task in question. I thought you needed men for measuring and hammering and such. Turned out, no. You didn't.
I was so proud.
But as the years went on, I learned there were limits to my handiness. BIG limits. Like not knowing anything about wiring and electricity. Like not being physically strong enough. Add to those limits an innate laziness, and well...you get a picture of how much stuff there is around my house that needs doing.
Sometimes, though, corners can be cut. If you're creative enough, you can sidestep actual skill and come up with alternatives.
Sometimes, though, the best efforts fail.
So, ya might have heard about the arctic blast currently hitting southern California. B-r-r-r-r. Time to crank up the old heater, right? 'Scuze me. That would be the NEW heater that accompanied the new air conditioner I purchased over the summer.
Only, guess what?
No heat.
Lots of nice, cool air streaming from the vents, but no heat.
Oh, I could have called 'the man,' but that would be too easy, doncha think? Instead, on Sunday, I hauled out a space heater and lugged it into my 'office.' Then, I consulted my 'go-to' guys at work. The consensus is that my gas valve is turned off. "Follow the gas line to the little valve and give it a twist," my brother says. "But if the heat doesn't go on, be sure to turn it back off."
See, it's that kinda talk that scares me away from giving that little valve a twist.
Nonetheless, tonight when I got home, I dutifully opened the door to the closet in which the furnace resides. I didn't see any little valve. I DID see, however, lots of warning signs and cautions.
These made me feel a touch queasy.
I concluded that the little valve thing might be inside the the front panel, but knowing I didn't have the courage to give it a twist, I didn't bother popping said panel off. Besides, my sister-in-law loaned me a SECOND space heater--one guaranteed to 'heat up the whole room', so truly, this whole electric heater deal wasn't sounding so important.
Satisfied, I decided to get some exercise, so I turned on the TV and hopped on the treadmill. I'd only gotten through one replay of the Bush shoe ducking debacle, when
Pffft.
Silence.
I also came to an abrupt halt.
Hm. No TV. No treadmill...sure enough, also no computer and no space heater in the office.
Blown circuit breaker.
I trudged outside, held my cigarette lighter up to the electrical panel and threw all the switches. Eureka. (Okay, I lied. The truth is, I had to do this twice because the first time I BELIEVED the labeling and only flipped the one marked 'lights and outlets'. On the second trip, I flipped them all. Voila. TV is back on and--obviously--so is the computer.)
Hey, at least I knew the location of the box and what to do with it. So what if it's 48 degrees inside? That's what sweats are for, right? And planning vacations to Puerto Vallarta?
P.S. to Blogreader Mindy--if you're still at a loss as to a Christmas gift, you may wanna consider buying me a flashlight. Preferably one with batteries that work.
I was so proud.
But as the years went on, I learned there were limits to my handiness. BIG limits. Like not knowing anything about wiring and electricity. Like not being physically strong enough. Add to those limits an innate laziness, and well...you get a picture of how much stuff there is around my house that needs doing.
Sometimes, though, corners can be cut. If you're creative enough, you can sidestep actual skill and come up with alternatives.
Sometimes, though, the best efforts fail.
So, ya might have heard about the arctic blast currently hitting southern California. B-r-r-r-r. Time to crank up the old heater, right? 'Scuze me. That would be the NEW heater that accompanied the new air conditioner I purchased over the summer.
Only, guess what?
No heat.
Lots of nice, cool air streaming from the vents, but no heat.
Oh, I could have called 'the man,' but that would be too easy, doncha think? Instead, on Sunday, I hauled out a space heater and lugged it into my 'office.' Then, I consulted my 'go-to' guys at work. The consensus is that my gas valve is turned off. "Follow the gas line to the little valve and give it a twist," my brother says. "But if the heat doesn't go on, be sure to turn it back off."
See, it's that kinda talk that scares me away from giving that little valve a twist.
Nonetheless, tonight when I got home, I dutifully opened the door to the closet in which the furnace resides. I didn't see any little valve. I DID see, however, lots of warning signs and cautions.
These made me feel a touch queasy.
I concluded that the little valve thing might be inside the the front panel, but knowing I didn't have the courage to give it a twist, I didn't bother popping said panel off. Besides, my sister-in-law loaned me a SECOND space heater--one guaranteed to 'heat up the whole room', so truly, this whole electric heater deal wasn't sounding so important.
Satisfied, I decided to get some exercise, so I turned on the TV and hopped on the treadmill. I'd only gotten through one replay of the Bush shoe ducking debacle, when
Pffft.
Silence.
I also came to an abrupt halt.
Hm. No TV. No treadmill...sure enough, also no computer and no space heater in the office.
Blown circuit breaker.
I trudged outside, held my cigarette lighter up to the electrical panel and threw all the switches. Eureka. (Okay, I lied. The truth is, I had to do this twice because the first time I BELIEVED the labeling and only flipped the one marked 'lights and outlets'. On the second trip, I flipped them all. Voila. TV is back on and--obviously--so is the computer.)
Hey, at least I knew the location of the box and what to do with it. So what if it's 48 degrees inside? That's what sweats are for, right? And planning vacations to Puerto Vallarta?
P.S. to Blogreader Mindy--if you're still at a loss as to a Christmas gift, you may wanna consider buying me a flashlight. Preferably one with batteries that work.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Blackjack!
Ha. Funny how I always think in gambling terms, huh? This time, I'm referring to the number TWENTY-ONE...as in, I received CONTRACT NUMBER TWENTY-ONE from True Romance Magazine yesterday. Woo hoo! So far, I'm in the first three issues of 2009. Think I can go 12 for 12 next year?
It's more work than you'd suspect. And getting harder to come up with ideas. Usually I start with what brings the hero and heroine together. A singles bowling league...shared custody of a dog...a party (wow, thinking back, parties have figured prominently in several sales). Then I look for a conflict between them. Opposites sides of the track...competition for a goal. Whatever. Sometimes I start with nothing but a scene heavy on dialogue and hope for the best. Usually, about halfway through, I start looking for a twist--a surprise--that will carry the story through to the end. Oh, yeah...and I start figuring out what makes the two characters fall in love. This is, after all, a romance. Anyway, it's that halfway point where I stall--where my fingers start typing so slowly, I fear I'll never reach the end. One of these days, I swear I'm gonna find a way to know the story from A to Z before I even start, so I can whip that sucker out so fast, my head'll spin.
Yeah, and pigs will fly, too.
It's more work than you'd suspect. And getting harder to come up with ideas. Usually I start with what brings the hero and heroine together. A singles bowling league...shared custody of a dog...a party (wow, thinking back, parties have figured prominently in several sales). Then I look for a conflict between them. Opposites sides of the track...competition for a goal. Whatever. Sometimes I start with nothing but a scene heavy on dialogue and hope for the best. Usually, about halfway through, I start looking for a twist--a surprise--that will carry the story through to the end. Oh, yeah...and I start figuring out what makes the two characters fall in love. This is, after all, a romance. Anyway, it's that halfway point where I stall--where my fingers start typing so slowly, I fear I'll never reach the end. One of these days, I swear I'm gonna find a way to know the story from A to Z before I even start, so I can whip that sucker out so fast, my head'll spin.
Yeah, and pigs will fly, too.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Fun and Frivolity for the Holidays
Not sure WHAT'S got into the writer world this past week.
First, there's Karen Tabke's First Line Contest which I blogged about here. And yes, I entered my first line. Would you like to know what it was? Here goes:
Looking back, my mid-life crisis began on a Tuesday in March, right there on aisle twelve of the local supermarket between the laxatives and the condoms.
I had to go look it up on the blog because I think I already revised it for:
Second, there's agent Nathan Bransford's crazy (possibly suicidal) 1st paragraph contest. Crazy because, last time I checked, there were over 1000 submissions. Happy reading, Mr. Bransford!
For that one, I submitted:
Looking back, my mid-life crisis began on a Tuesday in March at the local grocery store, right there on aisle twelve between the laxatives and the condoms. That’s the day I stood before an assortment of tampons, wondering whether my diminished egg production warranted the forty-eight count economy size. See, I worried about leftovers—about a future when the half-empty box still sat under the sink, mocking me every time I reached for a hair dryer.
Ha. And when I got home last night, I rewrote THAT version, which may make it into:
Third, Firebrand Literary Agency's Query Holiday. For this spot of Christmas madness, agents at Firebrand have opened the submission process to ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTERS for the period of one month, commencing December 16. So if you write a crappy query letter, this one's for you.
First, there's Karen Tabke's First Line Contest which I blogged about here. And yes, I entered my first line. Would you like to know what it was? Here goes:
Looking back, my mid-life crisis began on a Tuesday in March, right there on aisle twelve of the local supermarket between the laxatives and the condoms.
I had to go look it up on the blog because I think I already revised it for:
Second, there's agent Nathan Bransford's crazy (possibly suicidal) 1st paragraph contest. Crazy because, last time I checked, there were over 1000 submissions. Happy reading, Mr. Bransford!
For that one, I submitted:
Looking back, my mid-life crisis began on a Tuesday in March at the local grocery store, right there on aisle twelve between the laxatives and the condoms. That’s the day I stood before an assortment of tampons, wondering whether my diminished egg production warranted the forty-eight count economy size. See, I worried about leftovers—about a future when the half-empty box still sat under the sink, mocking me every time I reached for a hair dryer.
Ha. And when I got home last night, I rewrote THAT version, which may make it into:
Third, Firebrand Literary Agency's Query Holiday. For this spot of Christmas madness, agents at Firebrand have opened the submission process to ENTIRE FIRST CHAPTERS for the period of one month, commencing December 16. So if you write a crappy query letter, this one's for you.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
How Fun Was Palm Springs Last Weekend?
Short Answer: A blast!!
Although, I have to say, it's not my favorite drive. I swear, the older I get, the more I detest L.A. traffic. Maybe it's all the big rigs...maybe it's that everyone's in such a friggin' hurry...or, maybe I'm best suited to a rocking chair these days. I dunno.
But the truth is, if Palm Springs were closer, I'd be there more often. First, the weather. Perfect. Balmy. In November! Second, the architecture. The design aesthetic I regarded as kitschy and hokey in the 50's now fills me with fond nostalgia.
So, we checked into the Hilton (so conveniently located!) and were given a lovely poolside room with shuttered sliders to a patio complete with table, chairs and chaise. As much as we loved our little room, we had more on our agenda than lazing about--namely, casino visiting!
Yes, just steps across the street (so conveniently located!), we found ourselves at the Spa Casino, where we spent a couple hours MAKING MONEY until we met up with Randi's friend, Jim. Then, it was off to more lofty pursuits--dinner on the patio of a Mexican restaurant, followed by the annual Palm Springs Christmas parade (which is, ostensibly, what drew us there for the weekend--oh, no it wasn't the casino, don't think that it was). With coffee-to-go from the restaurant (enhanced by a bottle of Bailey's in my purse), we cheered on the home crowd of marching bands, decorated fire trucks, and mini-celebrities. Talk about getting in the Christmas spirit!
Later, we re-visited the gambling spirit...
How.Much.Fun.
I took some slot winnings to a 3-card poker table and spent...oh...maybe four hours there? You kinda lose track when you have such a fun table--not to mention a handsome guy (YOUR AGE) sitting next to you. (Okay, warning about Palm Springs: make sure your gaydar's in calibration before visiting or else you'll wonder all night whether that guy your flirting with is even on your team. P.S. I never DID find out.)
Anyway, I teetered back to the hotel around 2 a.m. to find it empty. (No big surprise--getting Randi out of a casino is harder than getting Blogreader Joe INTO one.) Suffice to say, she showed up around 5.
In the morning, we walked to our favorite deli (did I mention the Hilton is conveniently located??) for breakfast, did a bit more gambling, than beat the pending storm back to L.A.
Here now, for your viewing pleasure, is some video I took of the parade. I know. It sucks. You really had to be there.
Although, I have to say, it's not my favorite drive. I swear, the older I get, the more I detest L.A. traffic. Maybe it's all the big rigs...maybe it's that everyone's in such a friggin' hurry...or, maybe I'm best suited to a rocking chair these days. I dunno.
But the truth is, if Palm Springs were closer, I'd be there more often. First, the weather. Perfect. Balmy. In November! Second, the architecture. The design aesthetic I regarded as kitschy and hokey in the 50's now fills me with fond nostalgia.
So, we checked into the Hilton (so conveniently located!) and were given a lovely poolside room with shuttered sliders to a patio complete with table, chairs and chaise. As much as we loved our little room, we had more on our agenda than lazing about--namely, casino visiting!
Yes, just steps across the street (so conveniently located!), we found ourselves at the Spa Casino, where we spent a couple hours MAKING MONEY until we met up with Randi's friend, Jim. Then, it was off to more lofty pursuits--dinner on the patio of a Mexican restaurant, followed by the annual Palm Springs Christmas parade (which is, ostensibly, what drew us there for the weekend--oh, no it wasn't the casino, don't think that it was). With coffee-to-go from the restaurant (enhanced by a bottle of Bailey's in my purse), we cheered on the home crowd of marching bands, decorated fire trucks, and mini-celebrities. Talk about getting in the Christmas spirit!
Later, we re-visited the gambling spirit...
How.Much.Fun.
I took some slot winnings to a 3-card poker table and spent...oh...maybe four hours there? You kinda lose track when you have such a fun table--not to mention a handsome guy (YOUR AGE) sitting next to you. (Okay, warning about Palm Springs: make sure your gaydar's in calibration before visiting or else you'll wonder all night whether that guy your flirting with is even on your team. P.S. I never DID find out.)
Anyway, I teetered back to the hotel around 2 a.m. to find it empty. (No big surprise--getting Randi out of a casino is harder than getting Blogreader Joe INTO one.) Suffice to say, she showed up around 5.
In the morning, we walked to our favorite deli (did I mention the Hilton is conveniently located??) for breakfast, did a bit more gambling, than beat the pending storm back to L.A.
Here now, for your viewing pleasure, is some video I took of the parade. I know. It sucks. You really had to be there.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
'Tis the Season...for Writer's Cramp
Time to do Christmas cards.
Is there a more annoying or boring task known to womanhood? Each year, I try to streamline the process--y'know...print out labels...write a generic letter I can "tailor" to each recipient. Unfortunately, this year I've managed to complicate things to the nth degree because...yes, I'm sending a slew of lucky friends and relatives a copy of the Christmas Anthology in which my story appears. Cool though, huh? Christmas card AND a present! But I have to keep track of who gets the bonus and who doesn't. And I have to pray that the nonrecipients don't read my blog and wonder why they didn't rate. Oh, and I have to make sure I don't send a copy to someone I've already given one to.
Meanwhile, do they make Christmas-themed bookmarks? How expensive are they? (It's already costing a whopping $2.98 just to send the damn book. Bah, humbug.)
Plus, I can't just stick the thing in the mail without some sort of explanation; hence, the obligatory Christmas letter...which I have yet to write. (Do I have to put it on Christmas-y paper?) Conveniently, when it comes to recapping the year, I have my trusty blog for reference. But I just perused it, and guess what? I didn't do much of note over the past 12 months (hey, there's a surprise). A couple weekend getaways here and there. Several sales to True Romance. I don't think anyone cares to hear about my epic switch from Earthlink to Time Warner, though. Nor the rejections for my latest manuscript.
Maybe I'll make up something fabulous (I AM a writer, after all). A three-book deal, perhaps. Or a movie option.
If you get such a letter from me, pretend it's all true, 'kay?
Is there a more annoying or boring task known to womanhood? Each year, I try to streamline the process--y'know...print out labels...write a generic letter I can "tailor" to each recipient. Unfortunately, this year I've managed to complicate things to the nth degree because...yes, I'm sending a slew of lucky friends and relatives a copy of the Christmas Anthology in which my story appears. Cool though, huh? Christmas card AND a present! But I have to keep track of who gets the bonus and who doesn't. And I have to pray that the nonrecipients don't read my blog and wonder why they didn't rate. Oh, and I have to make sure I don't send a copy to someone I've already given one to.
Meanwhile, do they make Christmas-themed bookmarks? How expensive are they? (It's already costing a whopping $2.98 just to send the damn book. Bah, humbug.)
Plus, I can't just stick the thing in the mail without some sort of explanation; hence, the obligatory Christmas letter...which I have yet to write. (Do I have to put it on Christmas-y paper?) Conveniently, when it comes to recapping the year, I have my trusty blog for reference. But I just perused it, and guess what? I didn't do much of note over the past 12 months (hey, there's a surprise). A couple weekend getaways here and there. Several sales to True Romance. I don't think anyone cares to hear about my epic switch from Earthlink to Time Warner, though. Nor the rejections for my latest manuscript.
Maybe I'll make up something fabulous (I AM a writer, after all). A three-book deal, perhaps. Or a movie option.
If you get such a letter from me, pretend it's all true, 'kay?
Monday, December 08, 2008
Friday, December 05, 2008
Just Call Me MacGyver
Doncha hate it when you've gotten off the freeway, you're halfway home from work, and something's RATTLING around in your engine? Yep, me too.
Oh, and doncha hate it when you've left your cell phone at home on the charger THE ONE TIME you really need it? Yep, me too.
So......I pull into a grocery store parking lot, making sure to choose a well-lit spot. My first instinct is to head for a public phone, but I'm wondering if maybe they've gone the way of the 39 cent stamp, so I re-think, and go back to the car.
Could be some strange foreign object's taken up residence in the engine. Could be it just needs a well-placed nudge to dislodge it.
I start up the engine, pop the hood, and peer inside.
Part of the fan belt is flapping round and round. Well, that can't be good, I think to myself.
I shut the engine back off, peer under the hood again, and lift up the strip of rubber for proper examination. It's about 1/8" wide and two feet long, and I try tearing it off.
The strip lengthens by about a foot.
At this point, I sense a male presence passing by, and I probably shoot some helpless female pheramones in his direction, because he stops and asks if there's a problem. I explain and ask his opinion of my plan to buy scissors to cut off the strip. He apologizes for not knowing anything about cars, but says he has a tool we can use. (Sidenote: how sweet is that? The guy offers assistance with something he knows nothing about? Is this is pick-up, then?) Anyway, he even has a tiny flashlight and performs the surgery on my behalf.
He then wishes me luck and we part. (So, no. I guess not a pick-up.)
I crawl home with one eye on the temperature gauge and one on the road.
Tomorrow, when I coax the poor thing to the office, at least I'll have my cell phone to call AAA should disaster strike.
Oh, and doncha hate it when you've left your cell phone at home on the charger THE ONE TIME you really need it? Yep, me too.
So......I pull into a grocery store parking lot, making sure to choose a well-lit spot. My first instinct is to head for a public phone, but I'm wondering if maybe they've gone the way of the 39 cent stamp, so I re-think, and go back to the car.
Could be some strange foreign object's taken up residence in the engine. Could be it just needs a well-placed nudge to dislodge it.
I start up the engine, pop the hood, and peer inside.
Part of the fan belt is flapping round and round. Well, that can't be good, I think to myself.
I shut the engine back off, peer under the hood again, and lift up the strip of rubber for proper examination. It's about 1/8" wide and two feet long, and I try tearing it off.
The strip lengthens by about a foot.
At this point, I sense a male presence passing by, and I probably shoot some helpless female pheramones in his direction, because he stops and asks if there's a problem. I explain and ask his opinion of my plan to buy scissors to cut off the strip. He apologizes for not knowing anything about cars, but says he has a tool we can use. (Sidenote: how sweet is that? The guy offers assistance with something he knows nothing about? Is this is pick-up, then?) Anyway, he even has a tiny flashlight and performs the surgery on my behalf.
He then wishes me luck and we part. (So, no. I guess not a pick-up.)
I crawl home with one eye on the temperature gauge and one on the road.
Tomorrow, when I coax the poor thing to the office, at least I'll have my cell phone to call AAA should disaster strike.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Did I Miss A Memo?
I've been under the impression that ratings for awards show are at basement levels. Mostly because there's too many of them. I mean, come on. Oscars, Emmys, Golden Globes, People's Choice, AMA, CMA, SAG, Director's Guild, Independent Spirit awards...just to name a few off the top of my head.
So now there's a show just to announce nominations? That's right. Last night the Grammy Awards devoted an entire hour of TV time to read off the finalists in categories from best pop duo to best newcomer. Sure, they threw in live performances by people like Mariah Carey and Christina Aguilera. Even dusted off the Foo Fighters.
But, man. Talk about anticlimax. It was like: "And the nominees are" (insert five acts I've never heard of here) "and tune in on February 15th" (or some such date) "to see who wins." Huh? Delayed gratification to the nth degree.
But speaking of acts I've never heard of...who the hell is L'il Wayne? Eight nominations? Seriously?
I need to get out more.
Or quit listening to talk radio.
Maybe lose about forty years off my age.
Probably all of the above.
So now there's a show just to announce nominations? That's right. Last night the Grammy Awards devoted an entire hour of TV time to read off the finalists in categories from best pop duo to best newcomer. Sure, they threw in live performances by people like Mariah Carey and Christina Aguilera. Even dusted off the Foo Fighters.
But, man. Talk about anticlimax. It was like: "And the nominees are" (insert five acts I've never heard of here) "and tune in on February 15th" (or some such date) "to see who wins." Huh? Delayed gratification to the nth degree.
But speaking of acts I've never heard of...who the hell is L'il Wayne? Eight nominations? Seriously?
I need to get out more.
Or quit listening to talk radio.
Maybe lose about forty years off my age.
Probably all of the above.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Babysitting!
Look who I'm babysitting at the moment! It's niece Mindy's sweet little dog, Kipper. No, he's not a Bichon like Kody, but a relative of some sort--Havanese. And yes, I've already called him Kody several times--just like the doddering old fool that I am.
As I write this, Kipper's sitting on my lap, weeping a little 'cuz his grandma and grandpa went to lunch. Sadly, I'm a poor substitute for REAL relatives.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Opening Lines
No, I'm not talkin' pick-up lines, although I DID catch the finale of some reality show called "The Pick-up Artist." Man, is there NOTHING I won't watch on TV? Has anyone seen that Chain of Love show? How about Sharon Osborne's charm school for the Rock of Love skanks? I'm tellin' ya, if these shows are broadcast throughout the world, it's no wonder we're hated far and wide.
Anyway, the title of this blog post refers to author Karen Tabke's annual "First Line" contest. Best to go to the site to get instructions, rules and regs if you wanna enter, but in a nutshell, you post your opening line next week. One sentence. One (hopefully) HOOK-Y sentence, that makes the cut to the next round. If so, the following week, you add a second sentence. And so on and so forth. Strikes me that if you wrote an entire novel with that much concentration on each sentence...well, can you imagine?? (Yeah, you'd probably slit your wrists.)
But it's a fun contest to watch...and I'm thinking of entering with my WIP. The prize? Five lucky finalists get to send their first 20 pages to Amy Pierpont, a Senior Editor with Grand Central Publishing.
As Jeff Probst would say on Survivor, "Worth playing for?"
Uh, yeah. DUH.
Anyway, the title of this blog post refers to author Karen Tabke's annual "First Line" contest. Best to go to the site to get instructions, rules and regs if you wanna enter, but in a nutshell, you post your opening line next week. One sentence. One (hopefully) HOOK-Y sentence, that makes the cut to the next round. If so, the following week, you add a second sentence. And so on and so forth. Strikes me that if you wrote an entire novel with that much concentration on each sentence...well, can you imagine?? (Yeah, you'd probably slit your wrists.)
But it's a fun contest to watch...and I'm thinking of entering with my WIP. The prize? Five lucky finalists get to send their first 20 pages to Amy Pierpont, a Senior Editor with Grand Central Publishing.
As Jeff Probst would say on Survivor, "Worth playing for?"
Uh, yeah. DUH.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
NaNoWriMo--The Final Frontier!
Well, as you can see, I failed miserably this month, even though my goal was a paltry 25,000 words instead of 50,000. As I write this, Beverely has soared across the finish line, and I'm sure Jax will cross it by midnight.
You ladies ROCK!
In my defense, that bout with bronchitis set me back. Also, I'd like to point out that I wrote an additional 4,000 words on a story for True Romance that I didn't include in the total. Sadly, though, I don't ROCK, I stutter-step. HA, kinda the way I dance (blogreader Joe is nodding is head right now).
Meanwhile, I read through my WIP last night--approximately 50 pages. I wasn't as thrilled as I'd thought I'd be.
(We interrupt this blog to report the shuttle just went over!!! BAM!! BAM!!!)
Anyway, sometimes novels take on a life of their own. Or maybe, I'm in the wrong mood to be writing, cuz...geesh...this one's so friggin' serious. Too dramatic for my taste. I need to go back and find a way to inject the yucks. The...I dunno...insouciance...is that the right word?
You ladies ROCK!
In my defense, that bout with bronchitis set me back. Also, I'd like to point out that I wrote an additional 4,000 words on a story for True Romance that I didn't include in the total. Sadly, though, I don't ROCK, I stutter-step. HA, kinda the way I dance (blogreader Joe is nodding is head right now).
Meanwhile, I read through my WIP last night--approximately 50 pages. I wasn't as thrilled as I'd thought I'd be.
(We interrupt this blog to report the shuttle just went over!!! BAM!! BAM!!!)
Anyway, sometimes novels take on a life of their own. Or maybe, I'm in the wrong mood to be writing, cuz...geesh...this one's so friggin' serious. Too dramatic for my taste. I need to go back and find a way to inject the yucks. The...I dunno...insouciance...is that the right word?
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Black Friday
Okay, I admit I did NOT do my part to resurrect the economy yesterday. I only hope that the rest of you made up for my absence. Instead, niece Jamie roped me into joining the family for a 
portrait, complete with an honest-to-goodness photographer. I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures myself, so here they are. That's the "grandparents photo" with Barry and Polly in the center, flanked by Ashley on the left and Jake and Zac on the right. And that's the Perlstein family below, complete with Mom and Dad (Jamie and Jon).
New parents Brian and Juli-Ann with baby Paige wallowed in the wet grass for this pose.
Finally, last but not least, niece Mindy (and fellow spinstress) to me, but Aunt Mindy to Paige.
Let's hope the professional guy did a better job than I, huh? (P.S. I think you'll agree that Paige is the only consistently photogenic one of the group.)
Nice setting though, huh?
portrait, complete with an honest-to-goodness photographer. I took the opportunity to snap a few pictures myself, so here they are. That's the "grandparents photo" with Barry and Polly in the center, flanked by Ashley on the left and Jake and Zac on the right. And that's the Perlstein family below, complete with Mom and Dad (Jamie and Jon).
New parents Brian and Juli-Ann with baby Paige wallowed in the wet grass for this pose.
Finally, last but not least, niece Mindy (and fellow spinstress) to me, but Aunt Mindy to Paige.
Let's hope the professional guy did a better job than I, huh? (P.S. I think you'll agree that Paige is the only consistently photogenic one of the group.)
Nice setting though, huh?
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving!
I know I've been lax on the old blog lately. Guess I've been busy at work and with my NaNo Project. Just thought I'd drop by and wish all my readers a very happy holiday and to remind everyone that it's just important to be thankful for what you DON'T have.
Borrowing from an email sent to me by friends Debi and Skip, permit me to plagiarize!
Be thankful that you don't have everything you desire.
If you did, what would there be to look forward to.
Be thankful when you don't know something,
for it gives you the opportunity to learn.
Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
Be thankful for your limitations,
because they give you opportunities for improvement.
Be thankful for each new challenge,
because it will build your strength and character.
Be thankful for your mistakes.
they will teach you valuable lessons.
Be thankful when you're tired and weary,
because it means you've made a difference.
It's easy to be thankful for the good things.
However fulfillment also comes to those who
are thankful for some of the setbacks in life.
May the good things in life be yours in abundance, not only on Thanksgiving but through
the coming year.
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Gory Details
Please note I spared y'all the day-to-day saga of the switch to high speed until that last post. Actually, after the first couple weeks of on-site visits, calls to Earthlink and Time Warner, live chats via the Internet, yada yada, I pretty much gave up. Figured I'd wait until the BILL was due, then politely explain why I was choosing not to PAY IT.
Sure enough, when I contacted the billing department at Time Warner on Friday, they instantly set up yet ANOTHER tech visit for first thing Saturday morning. Yuck. My favorite thing in the world. An appointment (at my home, no less) at 8 in the morning.
Whatever.
Decided to give it the old college try.
Promptly at 8, my phone rang. "I'm parked in your driveway," the TW tech informed me.
"Give me a minute to throw on some clothes," was my answer.
Yes, sans makeup, I opened the door and let him in. I think his name was Brian. Or Ryan. Something like that. Anyway, he went to work, performing the same old diagnostics his forerunners tried. Then he decided he needed his "earthlink book"--except he didn't have one, so he called in reinforcements. Two more guys showed up within minutes.
Now I had three tech guys standing in front of my computer, scratching their heads. (I was dying to take a photo for the blog, but didn't wanna embarrass them--I'm so nice!!) Eventually, the whole thing was taking so long, guys 2 and 3 left to handle Brian/Ryan's next appointment.
Meanwhile, Brian/Ryan resorted to desperate measures: he ran a new cable directly from the street up through my 2nd story window. Nada.
Next he called "Tier 3" support. Apparently, these are Time Warner's really big guns on the tech front. After listening to Brian/Ryan claim he'd exhausted every option imaginable, they all agreed it must be Earthlink's fault.
Where have we heard this before??
My memory of what followed is a bit hazy. I believe there was another call to Earthlink involved, but I can't quite remember the outcome. All I DO know, is that in the end, we were back with Tier 3, who I'm pretty sure is capable of beaming wireless death rays to targets of their choice. Anyway, all of a sudden, I saw Yahoo Messenger pop up on the monitor. "I'm connected," I told Brian, all excited.
He grabbed his phone and asked Tier 3 guy what he'd just done.
From my end, I heard garble garble, then Brian/Ryan turned to me. "They took off the Earthlink code."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, you're connected through Road Runner."
Uh-oh. This did NOT sound promising. "What about my Earthlink email account?"
More garble garble, both on the phone end and in person. "Let's try it," Brian/Ryan suggested.
Tried it. Worked like a charm. Still, I KNEW IN MY HEART, this was probably the last I'd see of earthlink.
Sure enough. Brian/Ryan scurried out of there like a guy on a bad date. Three hours later, I went to check email and earthlink didn't know me from Adam. Not on Outlook Express. Not on the webserver. Not even one last email saying our five year relationship had been fun, but now it was time for him to move on.
See, the ONE criteria I had for upgrading was....I wanted to keep my email address. Not just for convenience, but because I have emailed submissions to agents and editors out there, some of whom use only email for their responses. Okay. I realize that on the OFF-CHANCE one of them can't live without my book, they'll find me via snail mail. But what of the partials? The maybe's? Well, here's hoping they use that SASE. And for the electronic submissions where there WAS no SASE, I guess I can send another email...but experience tells me those follow-ups get lost in the ozone.
But, I digress. On with the story.
So there I was without an email address to my name (except for one I use on Yahoo). I went to Roadrunner's site to set one up only to learn that I should have been given one when I "signed up for the service." Hello! Never signed up! Searched all over for a phone number. Tried "live chat" but...duh...needed an EMAIL ADDRESS to use the feature. Finally got ahold of a human who was able to give me the address, but not the password (how convenient!). She transferred me to another human who, after several fasle starts, finally figured out how to reset it.
Fortunately, I was savvy enough to successfully add the new address to Outlook, then I spent the next hour updating all my Yahoo groups, sending a blanket email to my address book, trying to remember all the places (iTunes, Yahoo webhosting, Blogger, etc.) that are anchored by my sad former email address.
I'm sure I missed a few.
Probably even a lot.
I guess we'll never know what the problem with Earthlink was, but I'm thinking their ad campaign to entice dial-up customers to switch to high speed cable is ...um...gonna be a major bust if they all turn out like me--former customers.
Oh, the icing on the cake?? Got an email from earthlink today addressed to my company's account, but referencing my phone contact this past Saturday. (Guess maybe they had the company account as an alternate contact address.) Anyway, they asked me to take an on-line survey regarding my satisfaction with how they handled my problem...
You can imagine how much FUN I had with THAT!!
P.S. I suppose this post was about as fascinating as someone's childbirthing story. Sorry.
Sure enough, when I contacted the billing department at Time Warner on Friday, they instantly set up yet ANOTHER tech visit for first thing Saturday morning. Yuck. My favorite thing in the world. An appointment (at my home, no less) at 8 in the morning.
Whatever.
Decided to give it the old college try.
Promptly at 8, my phone rang. "I'm parked in your driveway," the TW tech informed me.
"Give me a minute to throw on some clothes," was my answer.
Yes, sans makeup, I opened the door and let him in. I think his name was Brian. Or Ryan. Something like that. Anyway, he went to work, performing the same old diagnostics his forerunners tried. Then he decided he needed his "earthlink book"--except he didn't have one, so he called in reinforcements. Two more guys showed up within minutes.
Now I had three tech guys standing in front of my computer, scratching their heads. (I was dying to take a photo for the blog, but didn't wanna embarrass them--I'm so nice!!) Eventually, the whole thing was taking so long, guys 2 and 3 left to handle Brian/Ryan's next appointment.
Meanwhile, Brian/Ryan resorted to desperate measures: he ran a new cable directly from the street up through my 2nd story window. Nada.
Next he called "Tier 3" support. Apparently, these are Time Warner's really big guns on the tech front. After listening to Brian/Ryan claim he'd exhausted every option imaginable, they all agreed it must be Earthlink's fault.
Where have we heard this before??
My memory of what followed is a bit hazy. I believe there was another call to Earthlink involved, but I can't quite remember the outcome. All I DO know, is that in the end, we were back with Tier 3, who I'm pretty sure is capable of beaming wireless death rays to targets of their choice. Anyway, all of a sudden, I saw Yahoo Messenger pop up on the monitor. "I'm connected," I told Brian, all excited.
He grabbed his phone and asked Tier 3 guy what he'd just done.
From my end, I heard garble garble, then Brian/Ryan turned to me. "They took off the Earthlink code."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning, you're connected through Road Runner."
Uh-oh. This did NOT sound promising. "What about my Earthlink email account?"
More garble garble, both on the phone end and in person. "Let's try it," Brian/Ryan suggested.
Tried it. Worked like a charm. Still, I KNEW IN MY HEART, this was probably the last I'd see of earthlink.
Sure enough. Brian/Ryan scurried out of there like a guy on a bad date. Three hours later, I went to check email and earthlink didn't know me from Adam. Not on Outlook Express. Not on the webserver. Not even one last email saying our five year relationship had been fun, but now it was time for him to move on.
See, the ONE criteria I had for upgrading was....I wanted to keep my email address. Not just for convenience, but because I have emailed submissions to agents and editors out there, some of whom use only email for their responses. Okay. I realize that on the OFF-CHANCE one of them can't live without my book, they'll find me via snail mail. But what of the partials? The maybe's? Well, here's hoping they use that SASE. And for the electronic submissions where there WAS no SASE, I guess I can send another email...but experience tells me those follow-ups get lost in the ozone.
But, I digress. On with the story.
So there I was without an email address to my name (except for one I use on Yahoo). I went to Roadrunner's site to set one up only to learn that I should have been given one when I "signed up for the service." Hello! Never signed up! Searched all over for a phone number. Tried "live chat" but...duh...needed an EMAIL ADDRESS to use the feature. Finally got ahold of a human who was able to give me the address, but not the password (how convenient!). She transferred me to another human who, after several fasle starts, finally figured out how to reset it.
Fortunately, I was savvy enough to successfully add the new address to Outlook, then I spent the next hour updating all my Yahoo groups, sending a blanket email to my address book, trying to remember all the places (iTunes, Yahoo webhosting, Blogger, etc.) that are anchored by my sad former email address.
I'm sure I missed a few.
Probably even a lot.
I guess we'll never know what the problem with Earthlink was, but I'm thinking their ad campaign to entice dial-up customers to switch to high speed cable is ...um...gonna be a major bust if they all turn out like me--former customers.
Oh, the icing on the cake?? Got an email from earthlink today addressed to my company's account, but referencing my phone contact this past Saturday. (Guess maybe they had the company account as an alternate contact address.) Anyway, they asked me to take an on-line survey regarding my satisfaction with how they handled my problem...
You can imagine how much FUN I had with THAT!!
P.S. I suppose this post was about as fascinating as someone's childbirthing story. Sorry.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Am I Still Here???
More elaborate stories later, but the migration from dial-up to high speed cable took a new turn today, with the end result being that I no longer have my original email address. Surprise!
I'm a tad concerned cuz this blog is tied to that account. Which may mean nothing...or everything. Anyway, if I disappear, or am unable to post at some point...you'll know why.
The evil techies are at work.
I'm a tad concerned cuz this blog is tied to that account. Which may mean nothing...or everything. Anyway, if I disappear, or am unable to post at some point...you'll know why.
The evil techies are at work.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Number 20!
In addition to making s-l-o-w (but relatively steady!) progress with my NaNo project, I can report another True Romance sale! Yippee! For the first time, I actually wrote a themed story--this is for the February issue. Valentine's Day sounded to yawn-y (y'know, cuz it's not exactly my all-time favorite event), Presidents Day...Groundhog Day...nothing inspired me.
Until I came up with Mardi Gras. I mean, what could be better than a romance centered around a masquerade party?
Along with the contract came a lovely note from Nicole, the associate editor. Let me just mention that flattery has a way of increasing my productivity so that Nicole is one smart girl. Ha.
Anyway, so that makes 20 contracted stories since receiving my first in February of 2007. I guess that first one wasn't the fluke I originally thought, huh?
Until I came up with Mardi Gras. I mean, what could be better than a romance centered around a masquerade party?
Along with the contract came a lovely note from Nicole, the associate editor. Let me just mention that flattery has a way of increasing my productivity so that Nicole is one smart girl. Ha.
Anyway, so that makes 20 contracted stories since receiving my first in February of 2007. I guess that first one wasn't the fluke I originally thought, huh?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The 88 -- Coming Home
Swoon...what's not to love about boyishly cute guys and feel-good music? They remind me of the Beatles before they went whacko.
P.S. Go, Keith!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Cough, Wheeze, Snort--And A Milestone Is Shattered
As my hairdresser said today, "I hope you didn't get that bronchial thing that's going around."
BINGO.
And so, yes...my long-standing record fell. In the 26 years I've worked here, I've called in sick only once and technically, I wasn't even sick that time--it was more of a jet-lag thing circa 1988 which I insist does NOT count.
I even got up, showered, and dressed yesterday morning, then thought...what the hell am I doing? Just because I felt immeasurably better than on the day prior, didn't mean I was firing on all pistons. (Okay, and to be honest, I went home early on Friday. Like at 10 a.m.)
So instead, I dragged myself into what the health care system calls "extended care" and sat with all the rest of the germ-laden sickees. Bottom line: bronchitis (but, yay! no pneumonia!). And with a couple scripts in hand, I am now well on my way back to Randyworld. (I have to admit it occurs to me that were I still a spring chicken, I probably would have toughed this all out, but oh well...at some point, I guess I clearly must give in to middle age.)
Anyway, I spent the time sleeping and watching a WHOLE LOT of TV which, thank God, kept me well entertained. And at odd moments, I began to compile the following list, so here now...
THE ADVANTAGES TO BEING SINGLE WHEN YOU'RE SICK
BINGO.
And so, yes...my long-standing record fell. In the 26 years I've worked here, I've called in sick only once and technically, I wasn't even sick that time--it was more of a jet-lag thing circa 1988 which I insist does NOT count.
I even got up, showered, and dressed yesterday morning, then thought...what the hell am I doing? Just because I felt immeasurably better than on the day prior, didn't mean I was firing on all pistons. (Okay, and to be honest, I went home early on Friday. Like at 10 a.m.)
So instead, I dragged myself into what the health care system calls "extended care" and sat with all the rest of the germ-laden sickees. Bottom line: bronchitis (but, yay! no pneumonia!). And with a couple scripts in hand, I am now well on my way back to Randyworld. (I have to admit it occurs to me that were I still a spring chicken, I probably would have toughed this all out, but oh well...at some point, I guess I clearly must give in to middle age.)
Anyway, I spent the time sleeping and watching a WHOLE LOT of TV which, thank God, kept me well entertained. And at odd moments, I began to compile the following list, so here now...
THE ADVANTAGES TO BEING SINGLE WHEN YOU'RE SICK
- You can moan and groan all you like without feeling like a pathetic loser
- You can toss used tissue wherever you like, including into the growing mound on the opposite side of the bed
- In fact, the opposite side of the bed is useful for holding many essential items, e.g. reading glasses, thermometer, washcloth, remote
- You needn't put the caps back on pill bottles (this saves a lot of energy, trust me)
- You don't have to eat boring stuff like chicken soup and jello
- Instead you can eat whatever you crave, like ice cream cones and pizza
- You can look even more decrepit than you normally look when you wake up
- You can watch TV all night long
- You can take as many hot baths as you like without hearing someone say, "another one?"
- You can drink Nyquill right out of the bottle, saving you from having to clean that little plastic cup
- You can talk yourself into believing any medication you happen to have around the house is certainly within its expiration date
- You can throw stuff on the floor when your nightstand gets too cluttered with other medicinal debris
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Perplexed
So I'm driving through American suburbia this morning on my way to work. I stop at a signal and while I'm waiting for the light to turn green, I notice a woman pushing a double stroller containing infant-type children down the sidewalk.
This strikes me as odd, but I can't figure out why, so I begin to analyze.
First, I note that the woman is probably not the kids' mom. Why? Because she's wearing a uniform. (It helps to point out that she's also Hispanic, and even from my car I can tell the babies are blonde.)
Okay, so she's the Nanny. No biggie.
But let's examine further. If I were a mom (yeah, I know--huge stretch, but bear with me), I would think that taking the young'uns out in a stroller would satisfy one of two purposes: either, a) to get myself some exercise, or b) afford the little tykes some fresh air. Obviously, a is out because the mom's nowhere in sight, and I'm having a problem with b because morning drive time on a busy street translates to nothing but noxious car emissions. Besides, this just strikes me as an afternoon-type activity.
Anyway, so here's my conclusion.
Mom has obviously mistaken her children for DOGS.
This strikes me as odd, but I can't figure out why, so I begin to analyze.
First, I note that the woman is probably not the kids' mom. Why? Because she's wearing a uniform. (It helps to point out that she's also Hispanic, and even from my car I can tell the babies are blonde.)
Okay, so she's the Nanny. No biggie.
But let's examine further. If I were a mom (yeah, I know--huge stretch, but bear with me), I would think that taking the young'uns out in a stroller would satisfy one of two purposes: either, a) to get myself some exercise, or b) afford the little tykes some fresh air. Obviously, a is out because the mom's nowhere in sight, and I'm having a problem with b because morning drive time on a busy street translates to nothing but noxious car emissions. Besides, this just strikes me as an afternoon-type activity.
Anyway, so here's my conclusion.
Mom has obviously mistaken her children for DOGS.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Road Trip
Randy and Randi in front of Cold Springs Tavern, a popular biker stop in the San Marcos Pass. Built as a stagecoach stop in 1886, it's been a restaurant and bar since 1941. One of those places you mean to stop and see sometime but are always in too much of a hurry for--but not this past
Saturday. Yep, I can cross it off my to-do list.
Crap.
Why can't I ever figure out how to put pictures on Blogger? Or maybe it's them, not me.Anyway, two photos (God know where they'll end up amongst the text I'm writing) are of that bridge I love so much. The one you can't see at all as you drive over it. I always knew there had to be an awesome vantage point from which to take pictures...not that this it IT exactly, but since I'd just wolfed down a humongous cheeseburger, I barely had enough energy to leap from the car and scramble around to find a spot at all, so give me a break.
So, you know where this all leads to, right? What can I say...the hotel made Randi an offer we couldn't refuse. Not that we did any gambling while we were there. Oh, no.
Friday, November 07, 2008
This is precisely the way you feel when you've foolishly committed to participating in NaNoWriMo.
Ha. Kidding. It's going pretty well, actually. Last night I wrote a scene in which my heroine, confronted with the biggest decision of her life, seeks counsel from a dog named Alfie. Yeah, I loved it too, although (thus far) I've resisted letting her say, "What's it all about, Alfie?" Tempting, let me tell ya.
Anyway, if you can believe the widget on the right, I'm at 4,444 words--or for you non-writer folks--about 18 pages. Hey, only about 360 to go! I'm practically finished! Let's whip out the synopsis and query letters now, huh? Kidding again.
Can you believe I actually dragged myself out of bed thirty minutes early this morning? Yeah, me either. Managed to squeeze in another page. During NaNo, you take every opportunity because falling behind usually means falling off the map entirely. Or the chart. Whatever.
I may not make 50,000 (in fact, that's a given), but I'll be happy as pie to get half of that.
Stay tuned....
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Halloween 2008
Gold cocktail dress, gold gloves, gold hair, gold purse overflowing with gold wrapped chocolate coins...and a gold shovel. What's it add up to?? A GOLD-DIGGER, of course!
Ah, the lovely Ann and Marty. Can you see the delightful black hair sprouting from Ann's nose and chin? Nice touch!
Those bastards Rex and Sandy. Well, Sandy has cat ears on, but it's hard to tell, isn't it? I'll forgive her since she's the one who had the camera and preserved this memorable evening for posterity.
By the way, I'm thinking of donning sunglasses for all future occasions. The eyes aren't just the windows to the soul--they give away your age, as evidenced by the stranger sitting next to me who thought I was about 42. (Crap...when did I stop being 42??)
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Fidgety Widgets
More accurately, malfunctioning html.
'Cuz that monthly thingy purportedly charting my NaNo progress is NOT right, folks. I mean, come on. What's that big red blob for Tuesday? When, in truth, I ROCKED it last night. (In my humble opinion, of course.)
Did I mention that I'm not doing the out-and-out NaNo goal? Nuh-uh. Not me. Writing 1600 words a day is pure torture and, speaking for myself, not conducive to quality writing. At least not when I'm working on a novel I truly believe has potential.
So I'm slogging along at 3 pages a day to reach 25,000 words by the end of November. Oops. Just did the math. Three pages a day puts me short of 25,000. Oh, well. I'll make it up along the way. Somewhere.
Bottom line, by the end of the month, I should have almost 1/3 of the book done. And if I continue at that rate on into December and January, well...as writing friend Brooke says, I'll have something new to pitch by National next July. Oh, let's be even more optimistic, shall we? I'll have a SALE to celebrate by next July.
By the way, got a rejection in the mail this week, but did I let that sucker deter my NaNo progress? Hell, no.
'Cuz that monthly thingy purportedly charting my NaNo progress is NOT right, folks. I mean, come on. What's that big red blob for Tuesday? When, in truth, I ROCKED it last night. (In my humble opinion, of course.)
Did I mention that I'm not doing the out-and-out NaNo goal? Nuh-uh. Not me. Writing 1600 words a day is pure torture and, speaking for myself, not conducive to quality writing. At least not when I'm working on a novel I truly believe has potential.
So I'm slogging along at 3 pages a day to reach 25,000 words by the end of November. Oops. Just did the math. Three pages a day puts me short of 25,000. Oh, well. I'll make it up along the way. Somewhere.
Bottom line, by the end of the month, I should have almost 1/3 of the book done. And if I continue at that rate on into December and January, well...as writing friend Brooke says, I'll have something new to pitch by National next July. Oh, let's be even more optimistic, shall we? I'll have a SALE to celebrate by next July.
By the way, got a rejection in the mail this week, but did I let that sucker deter my NaNo progress? Hell, no.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Terry Spear, Superstar!
I'm so proud of writing friend Terry, I could burst!Apparently, each year, Publishers Weekly takes the opportunity "near year's end to review the year in books, highlighting the very best of what American publishing had to offer in fiction, poetry, nonfiction, comics, religion, lifestyle and children's."
Well, guess what?!?!?!?! Terry's book, Heart of the Wolf, was named (among only five titles total) to the best in "Mass Market."
Yay, Terry!
Truly amazing, although well-deserved. To read the list, click here. To visit Terry's website to see how to purchase Heart of the Wolf, click here. Again, CONGRATS, Terry. You're an inspiration!
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Ready, Set, Splat!
NaNoWriMo commenced yesterday at 12:01 a.m.
Uh, I didn't do so hot. Well, to be fair, I had a Halloween hangover (pictures to come--of the costumes, that is, not the hangover). Still...I managed to write, um, two (count 'em, TWO) pages. With a third added this morning (at 8 a.m. no less!).
It's been awhile since I typed the words "Chapter One." Pretty daunting, let me tell ya. Plus, since I've been mulling this book over for MONTHS now, I truly wanna do it justice, and so far, the pages I've written are missing something. Can't quite find the voice, I guess. Or maybe I've written these scenes in my mind so many times, they just look funny on the screen.
Whatever.
I shall persevere...if only to make those bars and charts in my sidebar look a bit more respectable.
Go Jax! (Currently in first place, the byotch.)
Uh, I didn't do so hot. Well, to be fair, I had a Halloween hangover (pictures to come--of the costumes, that is, not the hangover). Still...I managed to write, um, two (count 'em, TWO) pages. With a third added this morning (at 8 a.m. no less!).
It's been awhile since I typed the words "Chapter One." Pretty daunting, let me tell ya. Plus, since I've been mulling this book over for MONTHS now, I truly wanna do it justice, and so far, the pages I've written are missing something. Can't quite find the voice, I guess. Or maybe I've written these scenes in my mind so many times, they just look funny on the screen.
Whatever.
I shall persevere...if only to make those bars and charts in my sidebar look a bit more respectable.
Go Jax! (Currently in first place, the byotch.)
Friday, October 31, 2008
The 88
Trust me, you oughta be checking this band out. But, hey. Don't take my word for it--go sample the new CD at their MySpace page by clicking here. Oh, and read this nice write-up in the Los Angeles Times today. The 88 is definitely a band to have on your radar!I'm no reviewer, so I'll let the music speak for itself.
Okay, in the spirit of full disclosure, I'll admit...I couldn't be more proud of my old friend Keith Slettedahl (88 frontman), seen below in his new role as proud father to Violet on the left and my nephew Brian with his new daughter Paige on the right.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
It's That Time Of Year....
...and I'm not talkin' Halloween, folks.
Nope. TWO days from now (cue scary music), I'll descend into what's fondly called NaNoWriMo FRENZY. Days and nights filled with thoughts of word count. Mad dashes to the computer for adding to THE GOAL.
(Oh, speaking of goals...I, er, shortened mine this year. To 30,000 words. So sue me, and yes--I guess that means that no matter what, I won't be a NaNo "winner." Trust me, I can't BEAR to go back and clean up the crap I write when I aim for 1666 words a day--or whatever 50,000 divided by 31 is. So this is better.)
Anyway, that's what those new doohinkeys in my sidebar are about. Widgets they're called. And the first one is supposed to track my progress, the second to put guilt trips on my friends who are stupid (oops, I mean, crazy--no, inspired?) enough to do this.
Ha.
Stay tuned.
Cross your fingers.
A little praying might not hurt either--y'know, if you're so inclined.
Nope. TWO days from now (cue scary music), I'll descend into what's fondly called NaNoWriMo FRENZY. Days and nights filled with thoughts of word count. Mad dashes to the computer for adding to THE GOAL.
(Oh, speaking of goals...I, er, shortened mine this year. To 30,000 words. So sue me, and yes--I guess that means that no matter what, I won't be a NaNo "winner." Trust me, I can't BEAR to go back and clean up the crap I write when I aim for 1666 words a day--or whatever 50,000 divided by 31 is. So this is better.)
Anyway, that's what those new doohinkeys in my sidebar are about. Widgets they're called. And the first one is supposed to track my progress, the second to put guilt trips on my friends who are stupid (oops, I mean, crazy--no, inspired?) enough to do this.
Ha.
Stay tuned.
Cross your fingers.
A little praying might not hurt either--y'know, if you're so inclined.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Interview With Debut Author Jeff Rivera
Okay, I have to be honest from the get-go. I haven't read Jeff's book (have you SEEN my To-Be-Read Pile?? It's that tower of pulp threatening to bury my bedroom in paperbacks.) But I admit I'm intrigued. First, because Jeff's a man writing romance and second, because Forever My Lady takes place in a unique setting with characters not always seen in traditional contemporary romance. So when Jeff contacted me about including Randy Writes Romance on his blog tour, I readily said, "Yes!"
And now, the interview:
Randy: Why do you think my readers would be interested in Forever My Lady, Jeff?
Jeff: Well, your motto is Romance with an Attitude. Haha! And this story certainly has lots of that. I think Forever My Lady is a new twist on a love story. It deals with not only the whimsical experience of love but also the hard issues we really deal with in life. It covers teen pregnancy, racism, rape yet that doesn't bog down the love part of the story. I'm very much a romantic at heart and corny as it sounds, I believe in true love. I believe in finding "the one".
Randy: I see your publisher is Warner/Grand Central (Randy pauses to drool). Tell us about the process. Was it frustrating?
Jeff: Most of my frustrations were learning to adjust with self-publishing to being published by a major publisher. There was so much red tape I had to get used to. At first I didn't like the feeling of being reeled in but I've grown to appreciate it and know where the corporate world is coming from. I think I also come at the publishing industry from a new fresh perspective that more innovative people in the industry definitely appreciate.
Randy: (Still drooling) Tell me more about getting the news from Warner/Grand Central.
Jeff: I remember that day so clearly and not so clearly because I felt like I was in a fog and it took several months for me to realize that this thing I had been dreaming of for so long had finally come true, that it wasn't just some dream. I had to actually have my friend shake my hand in order to realize it wasn't just a dream or visualization I was doing. It was actually happening.
Randy: I hear you have experienced homelessness in the past. How has that shaped your writing?Jeff: I remember that day so clearly and not so clearly because I felt like I was in a fog and it took several months for me to realize that this thing I had been dreaming of for so long had finally come true, that it wasn't just some dream. I had to actually have my friend shake my hand in order to realize it wasn't just a dream or visualization I was doing. It was actually happening.
Jeff: I think it shaped my writing in knowing that anything could happen to me. That helped me step inside the shoes and mentality of my characters so I could write from their perspective easier.
Randy: How can my readers find out more about you and Forever My Lady?
Jeff: My website is www.jeffrivera.com and Forever My Lady is available at any bookstore, Amazon.com or my website.
Randy: Thanks for being here, Jeff...and BEST of luck with your debut novel! ! !
Randy: How can my readers find out more about you and Forever My Lady?
Jeff: My website is www.jeffrivera.com and Forever My Lady is available at any bookstore, Amazon.com or my website.
Randy: Thanks for being here, Jeff...and BEST of luck with your debut novel! ! !
Monday, October 27, 2008
The Continuing Saga....
You'll be thrilled to hear that after I emailed Time Warner questionning whether their support staff actually have pulses (and, y'know, heartbeats, brains--the whole shebang), they responded with these immensely helpful instructions.
1. Check my TV reception. (Um, thanks. We tried this on the day of installation. TV reception's fine.)
2. Check all the connections for your cable modem. (Hey, there's an idea. Like the three technicians who've been out might have missed a loose connection when they installed the thing. Crap, now that I think about it, why should I have trusted their expertise? Not that I haven't had all the cables in and out several times, so I think we got that one covered.)
3. Reboot the cable modem. (What am, I a rookie? That's, like, number one on the troubleshooting hit parade.)
4. If the above doesn't work, contact Time Warner's Broadband technical support line at ....
blah, blah, blah. You just KNOW that's my favorite one, right? The one where they hang up on you after you go through two minutes of punching in answers to recorded questions?
SIGH.
My response to their latest communication was to, once again, point out that if a human being is reading the entire email, her or she should be coming up with a different response. I ended it with an invitation to just admit they don't have a solution and that perhaps I should physically remove the equipment, dutifully return it to Time Warner, and go back to being a dial-up customer of Earthlink.
1. Check my TV reception. (Um, thanks. We tried this on the day of installation. TV reception's fine.)
2. Check all the connections for your cable modem. (Hey, there's an idea. Like the three technicians who've been out might have missed a loose connection when they installed the thing. Crap, now that I think about it, why should I have trusted their expertise? Not that I haven't had all the cables in and out several times, so I think we got that one covered.)
3. Reboot the cable modem. (What am, I a rookie? That's, like, number one on the troubleshooting hit parade.)
4. If the above doesn't work, contact Time Warner's Broadband technical support line at ....
blah, blah, blah. You just KNOW that's my favorite one, right? The one where they hang up on you after you go through two minutes of punching in answers to recorded questions?
SIGH.
My response to their latest communication was to, once again, point out that if a human being is reading the entire email, her or she should be coming up with a different response. I ended it with an invitation to just admit they don't have a solution and that perhaps I should physically remove the equipment, dutifully return it to Time Warner, and go back to being a dial-up customer of Earthlink.
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