Kathleen asks: How dumb do they think we are?

I'm late posting today, and I have to confess, I've been dithering. Dog days of summer, State Fair bloat, Labor Day lull, and a major political party is about to descend on the Twin Cities. Dare I post my real thoughts for the day?

Do I dare ask this question?

Think. Think again. Okay, the answer is yes, I dare. The question is: How dumb do they think we are?

By we, I mean women. And here's why I ask.

Yes, I watched the final night of the convention last night. Okay, I tuned in every night. I'm a political junkie of late--what can I say? After the last of the confetti falls and the last streamer sails, I turn to the Daily Show (second go-round) and I'm sort of half in, half out, and along comes a commercial that is so ridiculous, I'm thinking it's a spoof. It's a woman selling a product called ExtenZe. "For that very special part of the male anatomy." You can be larger, she says. And I'm chuckling at the rest of the pitch. When Jon Stewart comes back on, I realize that it was no spoof. It was a real commercial.

I know what you're thinking, especially those who know me pretty well. (Seriously, Kathleen?) But, yes, I've seen a couple of "male enhancement" ads. The guy with the big smile and the cheery whistle who's "livin' large"--yeah, I thought that was a joke at first, too--but this one seemed so silly that I expected Rob Riggle to pop up somewhere (pun not intended but noted after the fact) with a big gun punch line. He didn't. They were serious.

So this morning I sit down to blog about what I did this summer. But frankly, I didn't do much. And then I hear the announcement coming from the TeeVee. A woman has been chosen. For all the disaffected Hillary supporters out there, this one's for you. Not the top prize, but the second slot. Just a heartbeat away.

Huh? Sarah who?

Okay, yeah, I've heard of her. Barely. Here's what offends me. Do the powers-that-be in the political back rooms actually think that the women who supported Hillary for president did so just because she was a woman? And do they think that those supporters will flock to the other ticket simply because it now boasts a woman, and that any woman will do?

How dumb do they think we are?

What, you might ask, does that have to do with the aforementioned commercial? I thought it was a joke. I was pretty dumb, wasn't I? I actually had to Google ExtenZe before composing this post. Not only is it really for sale, but it's listed on a bunch of scam sites. Apparently I'm not quite as dumb as some. It is a joke, but I guess somebody's buying it. And I doubt too many of those somebodies are female.

Maybe I'm way off the mark here, but I get the feeling that the powers who put the packages together intending to sell to women are due for a wake-up call. We're a whole lot more than the sum of our body parts. Don't holler "Fetch girl" and throw us a bone. They want a woman, give them a woman. First, do no harm. So how about...Sarah Who?

We finally got the vote 88 years ago. Hey, we were ready the day the Constitution was ratified. We have differing opinions on any issue you can name, but the presence, size, or lack of a penis on a candidate isn't going to be the deciding factor for most--dare I say any?--female voters these days. The pundits keep talking about "the Obama brand" and "the McCain brand." And how can the packagers make that brand appeal to "the Hillary supporter" and "impact the women's vote"?

Good grief, Charlie Brown. Get a clue. Look to the part of the anatomy that decides. That would be the brain.

So I ask you: Just how dumb do they think we are?

(With apologies to Sarah Who? She's not the one I'm talking about when I say they.)

What Did You Do This Summer?

Labor Day is Monday…school has already started in my neck of the woods. Summer’s over!

How did that happen? It went by in a blink for me, because I’m on deadline and have been writing writing writing. What did I miss?

In my family, Surfer Guy and Son 2 had an adventure vacation in Belize and Guatemala. The one that required shots and malaria pills…though the only bites Surfer Guy said he got this summer was when he came home from Central America and stepped into our backyard!

Son 1 has spent approximately 70 percent of his time at the beach playing volleyball. Another 10 percent has been at the municipal gym playing indoor volleyball. He sleeps the rest of the time, I think.

I did squeeze in the giving of a huuuge birthday party for Surfer Guy at the end of June. I think that was supposed to qualify as my summer “fun.” He did have a great time though and there’s no man more deserving for a super celebration. I also went to San Francisco for the Romance Writers Conference. Great experience, but I still haven’t managed to find the minutes to download my pictures off my camera. I spent one night sleeping in my old canopy bed at my childhood home, between the conference and getting back to my real life. That one night could almost qualify as a vacation in itself.

My last summer hurrah is a day at the horse races, where “the surf meets the turf” in Del Mar. I never bet more than $2 a pop, and I rarely win, but we’re going to watch the pretty horses and enjoy the ocean breezes and I’ll try to pretend that I’ve been summering for three months instead of one too-short day!

What was your best summer moment? Or do you have late summer fun planned?

Guest: Megan Hart

I'm a little late this morning. So sorry! My computer hasn't been cooperating.
Anyway, it's a great pleasure to have our guest cruising with us today. If you're looking for sensual, emotional stories (with some great, sexy heroes) you MUST read Megan Hart. Be sure to visit her at meganhart.com and danehart.com. Now here she is, fresh out of the RV...


I am not “outdoorsy.”
I live in the woods of rural Pennsylvania, in a neighborhood where you can’t see the houses next door in the summer because of all the trees. I love it there. I have no lawn and my landscaping is whatever will grow when I throw it down and will come back year after year.
Despite this, I’m still not the hike-up-a-mountain sort of woman, probably due to the childhood traumas inflicted upon me by my dad, who often insisted on taking me on hikes up “the mountain” when I would rather have been reading a book.
And yet, who suggested my family take a two-week, cross-country trip to Yellowstone National Park this summer? Yeah. Me. In a motorhome, no less, which meant camping! Okay, so I know that while camping in a motorhome isn’t even close to hiking into the back country with a tent on my back and sleeping on the ground (I have hard camped, and I do know the difference) it sure isn’t the same as staying in a luxury suite someplace in the Bahamas with houseboys fanning me while I sip a fruity drink, either.

Two weeks in an RV with my kids and that man I live with, a.k.a. Superman. I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to survive it. See, I’m the sort who really, really, REALLY needs time alone. I could deal with not showering every day, I could deal with the hikes and the wildlife and the hours of driving even though I can’t read or write in the car without getting sick. But not being alone? I was pretty sure that was going to outright kill me, or at least drive me a little bit crazier. As I write this now we are on the way to Colorado on our last leg toward home. We’re going to be staying in the Stanley Hotel (Stephen King fans will know it) before heading back East.
And I’m still alive.
If you’re reading this blog entry (and many thanks to the women of RWTTD for having me!) I made it home.
And let me just say, what an amazing trip this has been. I have seen countryside that took my breath away; I have passed through towns that boast a population of 10. I’ve bathed in water from the world’s largest hot mineral spring, been to the country’s largest mall, seen the world’s largest bull’s head, sat upon the world’s largest Jackalope, fed prairie dogs, nearly been attacked by an angry, in-rut buffalo, seen the country’s oldest recreational vehicle, and worn cheese on my head. I’ve seen a giant gas grill, guitar, prairie dog, horse, cowboy boot, dinosaurs, fish and fishing rod, cowboy and a buffalo all made of plaster. I’ve watched geysers go off, been inside the world’s only corn palace, shopped at the Wall Drug store, seen National Monuments, toured the country’s second largest cave, survived the Cosmos Mystery Area, escaped alien abduction at Devil’s Tower, crossed the Continental Divide (four times!) and held a 150-million year old dinosaur bone. I’ve been through ten states, not including Pennsylvania, and in less than 24 hours I traveled five states and crossed two time zones in order to get home.

Boy, am I tired.
And what have I gained from this trip? An appreciation for the vast and wild beauty of the United States of America, for one thing. A renewed confirmation of my own very small place in the world, for another. It’s hard to feel impressive standing next to a steaming fountain of magma-heated water or looking at the stone faces of four men who shaped this country more than I can ever hope to. I appreciate a hot shower and cold water more than ever (not to mention flush toilets I don’t have to “dump.”) And I came away inspired to tell a hundred new stories, books that will take what I’ve seen and done and weave those experiences into the stories of someone else’s lives.
Writing is by necessity a solitary experience, and while I’m mostly glad to be at my computer type-typing away for hours on end, listening to my music and losing myself in a fantasy world where I pull all the strings, I also believe experience is what helps a writer tell great stories. In the past two weeks I’ve not only researched books I already wrote or am in the process of writing, I’ve seen and learned things that have already begun percolating into new stories I can’t wait to tell.
Everything I do leads back to writing. I can’t help it. It’s the way I’m made. Everyone I meet, every song I hear, every food I taste gets stored away to be used somehow, somewhere, at a later date. I love what I do and I’m so blessed to be able to do it.
And I’m so glad we took this trip.
Thanks again to all the ladies of Riding With The Top Down for having me here today. I know many of you have taken some amazing trips and seen amazing things, and so have this blog’s readers.
What kinds of stories have they inspired you to tell?

---M

PS – Want to win a copy of your choice of any of my available titles from Amazon.com? Send me an email to: readinbed@gmail.com with RWTTD CONTEST in the subject line and I’ll enter you in a drawing. I’ll pick one winner by Sept. 29! Thanks for reading, everyone.

To Blog or not to Blog – that is the question.

Good morning. And for my taste, it’s too early in the morning here in the heartland because I had BIG, big plans to sleep in today.

I’ve been on the move a lot lately and had promised myself one lazy indulgent morning of basking in bed until, oh, eight or so, but whoops. I woke up at 5:34. Why? Because it hit me that I had forgotten to write my blog post for this morning. Soooo. I’m up!

But I’m not feeling very bloggie. (Is that a word?) Or very clever or very bright and it also feels like the old creativity meter has dipped way down into the low voltage zone.

As I sit here thinking (tough trick today, believe me) I THINK I realized what my problem is. Here at the Topdown, the Crew has been discussing the finer points of the blog lately. Wondering what makes people visit, what makes them come back, what’s in it for YOU, what’s in it for US, (other than the fact that we LUVS YA), what value can we lend to the blogging community, etc. So I figure that maybe I’m in blog ‘flux’, so to speak, because of all this thinking and not knowing what you might like to read about.

The off shoot is, I’m going to throw some questions at you today and let you all join in on the discussion.

What DOES make you come back to a blog? What DO you like to read about? What questions do YOU have that you’re just waiting for one of us to answer? And for the statistically inclined, how MANY blogs do you visit per day on average? Do you like guest appearances? And if so, what guests would you like to hear from other than other authors? What have I missed? Let me know, okay? We love being a part of the blogging community but since we’re here, we want to make the experience the best we can for everyone.

Okay – let the questions begin. This is YOUR opportunity to weigh in and I can’t wait to hear what you all have to say.

$$$

Lois Greiman


I’m not sure when ‘they’ started telling us that the economy was in the toilet, but for the longest time I would have been totally unaware of the fact if they would have simply quit talking about it.

Now, however, more than any time in my life, I can really feel the crunch. As an author, of course, I’m accustomed to making no money, so nothing has changed there. :) But my husband has always made a decent income. Six months or so ago, however, his business began slowing down, and now we feel the need to cut back. Which is kind of scary, because I’ll be the first to tell you, I’m spoiled. And I like being spoiled. But things are going to have to change.

I’ve always shopped at consignment stores. Partly because it’s environmentally friendly and partly because I can get unique garments there. (Which you probably wouldn’t consider to be a good thing if you saw my wardrobe…although Daughter looks cute in her all-used show ensemble, aye? I think we got that whole outfit, fedora included, for less than five bucks at Savers.)

Last Christmas I made a rule that no one could buy new gifts. Everyone would have to buy used or hand make something. It was very amusing. I've rarely enjoyed the holidays more.

But I never use coupons, I rarely cook, and I’m extremely attached to my horses which, I readily admit, are the biggest waste of money in the universe.

So I’m looking for advice: Have any of you come up with a painless way to save cash? Maybe you’ve discovered a fantastic means to make more money. Or perhaps nothing has changed for you financially. What say you?

www.loisgreiman.com

ZZZZzzzzz . . . .

So I'm tired. Really tired.

Because I keep staying up to watch the Olympics. All the really good stuff happens after my bedtime. (As my mother would tell you, I used to be good at sleeping it. Gold-medal class, you might say. But somewhere, along with the last twenty-some years of getting up every morning to get the kiddos off, I've lost the gift.)

I keep swearing to turn it off. By 10:30, but then there's just a BIT more that I want to see. And then 11, and so on, and I'm feeling the drag.

But I love it. Not entirely sure why . . . it's the ultimate reality tv, I suppose, the one that the producers really can't manipulate. People have the competition of their lives, do way better than anybody predicts. Or they drop batons, or get disqualified. And there's no way of telling which it's going to be.

Do you have a favorite? Mine is, and forever has been, since I was a kid and Olga Korbut flipped over the top of an uneven bar in a way nobody had ever done before, gymnastics. I just can't believe anybody can do that stuff.

Tonight, however, I'm going to bed. I swear.

Have you all been watching?

Susie

Debra - Pitch this...

I've just discovered that I'll be doing a little "lunch mentor" session for my local chapter. A group of us will have lunch. I'll offer some tidbits about how to pitch your book.

I'll offer standard advice that newer writers need. Like...

WHY WOULDN'T AN EDITOR ASK TO SEE YOUR BOOK?

1. They don't publish or represent it.
Examples:
Pitching a contemporary horror novel to a literary press.
Pitching an agent who doesn't also handle SF/Fantasy.

2. They just bought fourteen secret baby books.

3. Civil War romances or football players or rock stars aren't selling right now.
Something is always out of fashion.

4. Elements that are too category or too mainstream.

5. You are rude.

And then they'll pitch to me. Which is why I need you.

I thought you guys might throw me some pitches and give me some practice with feedback! Tell us about your book in 25 words or less. (Or as few words as you can!) Even published authors are always pitching something to an editor. It's a necessary skill.

So...tell me about your book. I'll give you feedback!
Tell me what you think is important in a pitch or what worked for you.

If you don't write, what hooks you in a back cover blurb? How do you know it's a story for you?

I'll be out in the morning but I'll get right on the blog when I get back. That'll give you time to compose your pitch. )

UPDATE AT 4:00 P.M. CENTRAL TIME: Pitch Practice is closed for today. Thank you to everyone who was brave enough to step up and take a swing. And if you didn't post a pitch, read 'em. Tell the folks if you like theirs! And I'm still working on all the pitches that have been posted so far! I will comment. :)

Favorite Email Jokes

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Do you like/dislike getting all these email jokes? Do you have a favorite?

Predictions! Who needs 'em?

Betina here. Running a little late this morning.

Blame the weather folk.

We're suposed to be in a category one or two hurricane right now. Lots of blow. Lots of rain whipping sideways. Lots of debris flying by at 90 mph. sigh. Right now, there's hardly a palm frond moving on the deck or in the yard beyond. The storm that shoulda been apparently has fizzled. Didn't stay out in the Gulf long enough to get good and hot-and-wet. So they've closed schools (on the SECOND day of classes, no less! The teachers I know are happy for the day off and dreading having to do "day one" all over again!) And they've sent beach brides and hordes of tourists home in mandatory evacuations. And all for a rainy day. With a little breeze. Maybe.

Now, I'm a big fan of preparedness. I applaud the state and local officials for looking out for us and trying to keep everyone safe in a state vulnerable to the PMS days of Nature. But really-- we need to improve on the whole "predictions" thing. The Spaghetti Plot Model (see a GOOD example above) doesn't seem to be working.

While waiting for the "big blow" to begin, I surfed around the TV dial and found myself watching a program on "decoding the past". . . which was basically a look at ancient prophecies that declare the world will end on December 21st, 2012. Granted, most of it is fairly mystical and takes a lot of interpretation. But there are a lot of otherwise intelligent people getting ready to

sell all their stocks and bonds on December 20th, 2012.

All of which made me think about the whole process of predicting the future. I read recently that scientists (some smart guys somewhere) had determined that virtually all human being have the ability to "see" THREE SECONDS into the future. Which sounds about right. "I think that baseball is coming straight at m-- wham! " "That stupid guy is running a red li-- wham!" "The chair that guy is tipping back in is going to-- wham!"

You get the picture. Three seconds is probably useful in survival. The science types have determined that some people (those with better survival genes!) can extend that time to five, seven, or ten seconds. And a few select people can extend it further than that. . . maybe for days, weeks, months. So theoretically, it's possible to predict the future. But for all our collective smarts, we're still not able to do much with the stock market, the long-term weather, or political campaigns.

Remember the Y2K debacle? Planes would fall from the sky. The stock market would crash. The government would be thrown into turmoil-- no social security checks would be issued-- when computers all failed. December 31st, 1999, we held our breaths and. . . nothing happened. To our relief. And chagrin. Or maybe we scared outselves into correcting the problem before it became a reality. Personally I kinda like that one.

I always thought I'd love to have a glimpse of the future. I'd love to be a mystic, a seer, a sage with a glimpse of Forever. I just tried to think of what I might have predicted accuratel in my life. Not much, it seems. Not even the birth of my own kids. One was 2 1/2 weeks late and practically had to be pulled out kicking and screaming, and the other was induced and was still a whole day late!! One of the longest inducements on record! I can't even seem to predict when the milk in the fridge will run out. "Nah, we've got plenty" I tell myself. The next morning, there's no coffee cream.

On the other hand, I've done pretty well with predicting the staying power of some couples. I knew at the wedding that two of my friends wouldn't be with their spouses long-term. But that was based on abundant clues that things wouldn't go well: the bride was so late the organist gave up and went home, and the mom and dad were sitting in the last pew and hanging onto each other for dear life. . . little hints that things might not go well.

Oh, and I did predict that #1 child would be a boy. But my pride in the accuracy was diluted serioiusly when #2 child came out a boy instead of the girl I'd been predicting. I'd carried him for nine friggin' months-- and had no clue! fortunately, I hadn't invested in anything pink. . .

What about you? Anything you've predicted successfully? Do you read your horoscope? Do you believe some people get a peek at the future? What would you like to know in advance?

It's State Fair Time. Already!

They call it the Great Minnesota Get Together and it starts on Thursday. The state fair's a big deal in these parts with over one and a half million people attending the twelve day event held on 340 acres in St. Paul. I can go and spend an entire day moseying around, something I never do. My dh hates the fair, but I love it. All of it.

Rides and games in the midway. Music in the grandstand. Vehicle exhibits, cars, RVs, boats, tractors. Shopping, beer gardens, home improvements. Various competitions, from gardening to quilting, talent contests to horse shows. My personal favorite, the animal barns. Every year I gotta go see the state’s largest hog.

And then there’s the food. Standard fare like mini-donuts, pronto pups and cotton candy. Midwest favorites like cheese curds and corn on the cob and all you can drink milk. Are Sweet Martha’s chocolate chip cookies a Minnesota thang?

Every year they come up with some new “on-a-stick” treats. I love the pork chops and jerky, but I think they’ve been reaching these past few years. Alligator? Deep fried candy bars? I don’t care if they’re on a stick or not, I’m not interested. Get this one. Ole and Lena’s hot dish on-a-stick? Can’t wait to see that one. Apparently, it comes with a gravy dipping sauce. Eww.

I looked up a food list on the fair’s website and here are some other interesting ones: asparagus and celery (huh?), bug juice (ick), chocolate potato chips (you’ve got to be kidding me), Minnekabobs (cute), and Wilbur beans (what the heck?). Anyone for a Gizmo sandwich?

I have a friend who plans her route around the fair grounds based on where her favorite foods are located. That’s dedication. I just go and meander around, eat way too much, get hot and sticky and leave feeling sick. What a great time.

Are state/county fairs a big deal where you live? Are you a fair goer or is it the kind of thing you have to be dragged to kicking and screaming? What’s your favorite thing to do or eat?

PS And what about that Bigfoot?

Kathleen On Freeing the Butterflies and Other Changes

I've had all kind of butterflies this summer. Some were raised in the kitchen, others in my stomach. It's all about changes.

We gave the grandchildren a butterfly house this summer. Sent for the larvae and, much to everyone's delight, raised them through their stages and had four painted butterflies. (One chrysalis didn't make it, so we had that lesson, too.) We fed them in the butterfly house for a couple of weeks while we explained that they were looking forward to freedom. Then we had a release party. The kids professed love and good wishes to each critter as it took flight.

Lately we Riders have talked a lot about emptying the nest, letting go, dealing with life's changes. The big guy in the pictures is my firstborn, father of the two girls. My baby is Daddy to my grandson. Our male Eagles have come back to the nest once or twice, which is typical of the bird as well. But that's another story. (Did you know that the only way to tell male from female eagles is by weight. Guess which is heavier.)

So, changes. I'm back to caring for little ones a lot, which is a joy and a challenge. Back to buying school supplies and clothes, which I missed in recent years. And I'm back to writing the shorter series books, which is an adjustment after writing one big book a year for several years. I'm remembering the line from one of my favorite movies, Dirty Dancing. "Lots of changes, old Max. Lots of changes."

So let's talk again about making changes. Adapting. Surviving. I don't want to be the critter that couldn't break free of the chrysalis. I want to stretch my wings. How about you?

Another Winner!

Jane has won Cindy's contest for a book of her choice from Thursday's August
14 blog.
Congratulations, Jane!! Please e-mail Cindy from her website at
www.cindygerard.com after you've browsed her book list and decided what book
you want.

WINNERS !! (courtesy of Marilee Brothers)

Marilee tells me that she has determined the winners...

Winners

Castle Ladyslipper -
Dina

Moonstone -
Traveler

If these folks could email me their snail mail addresses at: BelleBooks@BelleBooks.com

We'll get your books right out to you.

Hi tech look for a low tech girl

First things first. Everyone's been posting their photos from San Francisco and RWA so I have to share one.

Here I am with Jennita Low, Kylie Brant and Susan Connell, right after we fell down the rabbit hole and landed in wonderland.

Okay. Got that off my chest.

Now to the purpose of this post. It’s no secret on the blog that I’m computer challenged. Oh sure, I can get my blog post up and running (usually) add photos (most of the time) and make it look pretty (some of the time). But I figure if God wanted me to be a computer expert, I’d have been born with a mouse in my hand – instead, I believe I came barreling out holding a slice of pizza.

Any-hoo, many of the Top Down crew are super fabo at creating their my space pages, and keeping the convertible’s dash board running smoothly. Some of them even create and maintain their own websites. Me – I HAVE to hire most of my stuff done ‘cause, like I said, I’m challenged.

Which brings me to ….. (drum roll) I have an entire new website look! I loved my old site but the new one is really rockin’. And yes, of course, I want you to all go check it out, okay? Check out the new book trailer too for Show No Mercy. It's pretty cool - at least I think so. www.cindygerard.com

After you've looked around, would you please come back and let me know what you think? BUT, first, while you’re there, make sure you leave me a comment or make a post on my message boards (‘cause I NEED someone to talk to me) and if you’re of a mind to, sign up for my newsletter (which ONLY goes out when I have a new release or, as was the case this month, when I have a new website design).

And yes, there’s something in it for you. If you sign up for my contest, you’re eligible for some cool prizes. Also just by posting here today and letting me know what you think of the new website look, some lucky winner will get to select a book of their choice. Win-win all around, right?

So, what do you think? Good? Better? Miss the old one? Anything you'd like to see on the site that isn't there? And I'm up for ideas for my special features section. What would you like to see there? Puzzles? breaking news? upcoming projects? I'm all ears.

Guest - Marilee Brothers LATE BLOOMERS STAY FRESH LONGER

NEWS FLASH!  --  Bell Bridge Books is giving away a free copy of MOONSTONE to one lucky commenter.  And Marilee is giving away a free copy of her medieval romance CASTLE LADYSLIPPER !

Hi, I’m Marilee Brothers…I think. I’m feeling a bit schizoid after writing three books in three different genres with two different names. My first, Castle Ladyslipper is a medieval romance written under the pseudonym Lee Grantier, my long departed grandmother’s name. My second—but actually my third—is a humorous mystery with romantic elements. The Rock and Roll Queen of Bedlam will be published in October, 2009. My third, Moonstone, a YA fantasy, is available RIGHT NOW from the the lovely ladies of Bell Bridge Books and my second book published under my real name. Confused yet?

Happily, I believe I’ve found my niche in the YA genre and I owe it all to the miserable creature I was at age fourteen. Taller than every boy in my class (they caught up in high school), I was painfully shy and convinced I was unlovely and unlovable. Allie Emerson, the teenage girl in Moonstone has the character traits I longed for at that age. Despite her difficult home situation, she’s strong minded, rarely at a loss for words, stands up to bullies and, best of all, has telekinetic power and a magic moonstone pendant!

I could have used a little magic back then. The memory is still vivid. A group of us playing a kissing game, probably spin the bottle. I found myself in a closet with a freckle-faced, earnest young man a head shorter than me. I dropped into a half-crouch. He stood on his tiptoes. Our knees banged together. Somehow, against all odds, we exchanged an chaste peck on the lips, our faces hot with embarrassment.

As adults, we speak of “teenage angst” as if we’ve forgotten how painful those years can be. But, deep down, we don’t forget. It becomes part of our personal journeys. Writing about Allie helped me look back at myself—that gangly, vulnerable girl of fourteen—put my arms around her and murmur, “It’s okay to be a late bloomer. I wish I could tell you…the best is yet to come.”

Allie’s journey is just beginning. As a result of writing her story, I now look into my rear-view mirror and smile. Did I just hear the sound of a young girl giggling? Swear to God, Alfrieda Carlotta Emerson! You helped me grow up!

What about you? Do you consider your teen years “the best time of your life?” Any embarrassing moments you’d like to share?

Stay in Bed...and Watch TV!

I admit it. I haven’t been reading romance for the last couple of days. Instead I’ve been glued to Olympic coverage which I find oddly postage stamped all over my cable channels. I think I’ve finally figured out where and when I can find the broadcasts, so I’ve been able to indulge in my five-ring obsession.

I’ve watched some interesting sports. Handball. We used to play that in elementary school against a wall. In the Olympics, it looks more like soccer, with defended goals and a team of players on both sides. Why do they bounce the ball sometimes and not others? Watched and enjoyed, could not comprehend.

There has been the obligatory soccer and basketball as well as some hockey. No, it’s not called field hockey, the NBC sports dude told me. Just plain hockey. ‘Kay. But I did pick up on the fact that he was sportscasting the event from 30 Rock (that’s Rockefeller Plaza in NYC). Hey, he’s watching it on teevee the same as me!

People are complaining (in my own household, no less) that some sports don’t deserve to be Olympic sports. Surfer Guy, who went to college on a high-jumping scholarship, says that track & field events are the purest of the pure. But synchronized diving? I would have shaken my head at BMX cycling events, until Surfer Guy and Son 2 watched the Olympic Trials in person and came home thrilled by the sport.

Then there’s the ignorant who say volleyball has no place at the Olympics, in either its indoor or beach form. Hey! Volleyball’s the Ridgway passion. And, actually, the sportscaster told me Friday that indoor volleyball is the #2 sport in the world after soccer! In Poland, the fans go crazy about it, while here in the U.S., spectators behave as if they’re watching tennis (this is kinda true, and actually a plus in my book). As for beach volleyball…well, it’s a very taxing sport. Look at the kind of bodies it develops (the guys in the pix are pro v-ball players).

Go ahead, look again.

So volleyball is my sacred cow. What’s yours? Or is there a sport new to you that you’re enjoying by watching the Olympic coverage?

Changing Roles

Lois Greiman

Michele’s nostalgic post made me remember the good old days. The days when the kids were small, when we used to pack them into their car seats and take them anywhere we wanted. To the grocery store, to the doctor, on vacation. Or even further back when they were just abbreviated people, tiny infants, completely reliant on me. I loved those days…those fragile fleeting moments when they didn’t yet belong to the world, when they were all mine. This is my daughter when she was just a wee one.

Well, times, they are a changin’. I was aware of those changes, of course, but the immensity of those transformations recently became clear to me.

A few years ago, my eldest adventurer began talking about Mt. Whitney. He’d get a dreamy look in his eye and tell me how it’s the tallest mountain in the lower 48 states and how he was going to climb it someday. I would respond as I used to when they would say things like, “When I grow up I want to fly to the moon.”

“Sure honey, you can do anything you want if you put your mind to it.”

But he’s not three anymore, so instead of becoming distracted by toads or shiny rocks, or spider webs, he started planning a trip. Eventually, he asked if I’d like to climb mountains with him, his sister, and her boyfriend Bob. Now, I’m not entirely stupid. I paused, I thought, then I said, “Sounds great. What a challenge. Hooya!"

Okay, I saw the potential problems, (oxygen deprivation being right up there with maternal death) but really, when your 24 year old son and your 19 year old daughter want to spend time with you you can hardly say, “ask me again in 10 years.” It’s now or never. Do or die.

So three weeks ago we packed up Bob’s van (the Green Demon) and headed west on our grand adventure. To make a long-winded story a little less breezy, the first two mountains we tackled were fine. Harney Peak in South Dakota was, quite literally, a walk in the park. Mt. Elbert in Colorado was more challenging, but I won’t soon forget singing Rocky Mountain High with my daughter as we hiked along above the world. It was grand.

Except for the projectile vomiting which started a few hours after returning to our vehicle. I began feeling sick at about 10 pm but I didn’t want to wake the kids. I mean….you know, they’re my kids and I'd spent five years of my life trying to get them to sleep. But eventually, the pain was out of control and I woke Travis with something like, “I’m sorry to bother you, dearling, but my body seems to be trying to launch of my internal organs through my esophogus." (Or it might sounded more like "aaggghhhhck!")

Still I didn’t have any plans to go to the hospital. I assumed I had something innocuous like the flu (or the bubonic plague) plus I didn’t know where we were…much less where there was a hospital, but the kids took control. They insisted that I get into the van and hang on. A half hour of teeth grinding agony later I was in the emergency room in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, sporting a kidney stone.

Word to the wise…if you have a choice, do not…I repeat NOT develop a kidney stone unless you're seriously bored. As it turned out, though, the experience wasn’t all bad. I got to lie down on a bed, which I hadn’t had for a week…I got drugs…and holy cow, had I known what a kick that was, I would have had a lot more fun in the 70’s. Annnnd I got some rest. Two days later, however, the doctors kicked me out and told me to go climb the rest of my mountains. So that’s what I did. I stumbled back into the Green Demon and headed for California. Turns out 14,500 feet is a lot of altitude, but we summited in about ten hours and descended in about half that time. (I was trekking longer than I usually stay awake.) After I reached the van that night, I literally crawled inside, covered my head and refused to emerge. The boys cooked supper and shoved a plate under the blanket to me. I ate lying down, pushed the plate back out like a convict, and promptly slept for ten hours.

But the thread of this story is this: I am no longer the caregiver in this family. And although it’s nice in some ways…kind of a weight off my shoulders…it scares me. In the years since my children were born I’ve become a caregiving addict. I need to be needed. And what now? The kids are already taller, brighter and better educated than I. What happens next? In two years will I be tottering around combing my ear hairs and mumbling about mutton chops and hairspray while the kids spoon feed me strained carrots?

Changes are scary. At least for me. Do they frighten you too? Which parts are the most terrifying and what do you plan to do about it?

Beginnings and Endings

He's leaving me in one week.

The realization struck last night as I poured the hard sticks of spaghetti into a pot of boiling water. Then I turned the handle away from the edge of the stove. That's when it struck me. I don't have to do this anymore. Turn the handles in to protect little fingers from burns.  Tears mixed in the boiling water.  He cannot conceive of the heartache I feel.  

My heart is being torn out. You see, my son, Jesse, having graduated from high school a few months ago, is moving out next week to go to college. To begin that wondrous journey all kids look forward to: freedom. Making a life of their own. It was a very sudden thing. He's been vacillating on two career options this summer, and I had thought he would take a year off and start school next year. Within two weeks he has been accepted to a school, and put down a deposit on an apartment in a town an hour away from where we live.

I can be happy that he's independent and eager to go to school and move forward in a life that I know will be filled with as much success and happiness as it is trial and hard work. He's a smart kid. I taught him well.

But I'm mourning the loss of something that is literally a piece of me. That sweet little boy I used to call 'Puppy toes' and 'Bob'. I still call him Bob. Don't know why. Don't even like that name, but he's always been Bob.

So no more turning in pot handles. No more neatly folding boxer shorts (knowing they'll only get shoved in a drawer).   No more looking out the patio window to find Bob following with his plastic lawn mower, while Dad mows the lawn. No more emergency computer fixes (Bob's taking Computer Networking in college; he knows computers). No more experiments with sports as each school year arrives (he's not much of an athlete, but he does like to try new things, much to the shrieking agony of our checkbook).

No longer need I worry about rushing from errands to meet him before he gets home from school (I've worked at home since he was little; no babysitters). I won't have to wonder about what to make for supper that he'll at least eat and not sneer at (but hey, the kid loves his broccoli). I won't be able to laugh at his fascination with yard sprinklers, and watch him take them apart, only to realize he can't put them back together. I won't have anyone to listen to the latest Metallica or Flogging Molly song with me. He won't be there to debate which cat was the one to leave that little present on the step. Nor will I get to eat those freshly baked chocolate chip cookies he likes to make in the evenings (yeah, he can bake a mean cookie). As well, I won't be able to sit out on the back step and ask my favorite "So, what do you think about yourself?" and get those great honest answers that sometimes include "Good", "Cool", or even "Eh".

They say sons are different than daughters. My daughter moved out five years ago. I helped her pack, got her apartment set up, then waved her off. She would be fine. My heart fluttered then.

My heart sobs now. Bob is different. There is a connection between us that is unlike with my daughter. It is passionate, and deep. And so I cannot watch him pack. I can barely write this post without crying. And I won't be able to wave when he turns to start his new life. He won't look back. He doesn't need to. School and freedom and girls and cars and all that good stuff waits. He's ready for the world. But I'm not ready for the world to have him.

What about you? Have you had to send a child off into the world recently? Was it easy, hard, like ripping out your heart? Does it get easier after a while?

I celebrate my son's step out into the world! But that doesn't mean I won't be shedding a lot of tears over the months. Sigh...
Michele

Those Left Behind Contest update

Well, the contest was a bust! I posted a pic of four authors (Betina being one of them) and asked you all to name the mystery author. There were some great guesses. But no one got it right, and maybe that's because she wasn't a big-name author. The mystery chick was Sharon Stone, Betina's sister! (page down and take a look; yep, sisters).

Debra - Open mouth. Insert foot.

I know. You're all aghast and uncertain what I could mean because I have always been the soul of discretion. (see Monday's post on boobs, which I thought was a hoot.)

I also belong to a group that may be popular with many of you-- Assumptions-R-Us.

Here's what happened this time.

Deborah Smith is revamping her website. Going for a new design. So, she sends me the new banner design to ask my opinion. Well, she's a business partner. She knows me. She knew she would be getting a real opinion.

I didn't like the banner. In fact I was a little concerned that the design company was giving her such a "stock" look without customization. Deb asked what I meant by custom. I just did a new banner and said, "Here. This is what I think 'you' look like."

So, she sent it immediately to her web designer. How gratifying!

Here's one with a little more detail since I can't really get a whole banner across here:

Yeah. Gratifying. Right until the web designer very graciously thanks me for offering to let her use this and how very much she wished she'd known that she could deviate from the art that Deb Smith sent her originally.

See, I had just assumed the web designer was pawning off a substandard, no-effort design on her unsuspecting client when she was just trying to do what she thought the client wanted.

And since the various email programs were keeping a record of correspondence, the email that had been forwarded to her with the banner from me had a fairly snarky comment. Something like, "I can't believe she thought you'd accept this half-assed job."

Deb thinks this is funny. Friends are like that.

The moral of this story? Don't assume. And never ask when someone is "due." Ever. I never even mention baby unless they say the words, "I'm pregnant." At least, not anymore.

Been chewing on any of your feet lately or are you generally very well disciplined? And do you like Deb's new banner?

Winners of Samantha Hunter's book!

flchen1 and amy&skf are the winners of Samantha Hunter's book. Please email Michele at toastfaery@gmail.com with your snailmail addresses and I'll forward those to Samantha. Congrats!

Guest: Samantha Hunter

Please welcome Samantha Hunter to the convertible today!  Indulge in her summer travels and comment to win a copy of her latest release!



What Are You Doing on Your Summer Vacation?

Here we are in the dog days of summer, and folks are recovering from a week in San Francisco or planning August trips. I didn’t go to RWA. This year, with the economy as it is, gas prices, and a possible job change on the horizon for dh, we are enjoying summer on the home front. I admit that is not ideal for me. I love just taking a weekend and driving to Boston or NYC, but even that can add up between dog sitters, gas, hotel, etc. So we’ve resisted the urge. Not always easy.

Originally this year we’d planned for a week in Cape Cod (our favorite vacation destination, and the setting of my story in my Blaze anthology, What I Did on My Summer Vacation), but ultimately stuck to our financial guns and stayed home. Still, considering the title of my book I thought I’d share some vacation pictures from past trips – the view from Boston’s Bunker Hill Monument (for which we climbed 294 very narrow steps) and a view from the Empire State Building (see far left; which has an elevator, of course). There’s the view from our beachside room on St. Petersburg Beach, in Florida (the bar was about twenty feet away), a view of the famous reflective sculpture in downtown Chicago, and a the view standing

in a desert canyon in southern California. Then, there is our most frequent destination, our back yard, or a sliver of it, anyway. ☺

Staying home hasn’t been bad. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done, and the weather really has been perfect here in Syracuse. We’ve had some rainy days, but largely it’s been very close to the summers of my youth. Hot during the days, thunderstorms in the afternoons and evening. It’s been humid in stretches, but most days I can sit and write with the windows open, look at my birdfeeders, and it’s been very relaxing. Often, vacations are not relaxing. They can be fun, exciting, but often we need time when we get home to recover from a vacation.

Some of my favorite vacations in the past have been to the Grand Cayman, San Diego, Key West, and the lower end of the Chesapeake Bay on the Eastern Shore. Places I hope to go in the future are Japan, Bermuda, Texas, Seattle/Vancouver, and I’d like to see more of California and the west.

Still, being home has had its advantages. I feel relaxed, the house is clean, the yard is groomed, and we bought a little firepit and have been having a lot of fun just having campfires and making s’mores in the back yard. We have a beautiful yard, and sitting outside with ribs on the grill and a fire, it’s a lot of fun.

We also have beautiful wood touring kayaks that we didn’t take out at all last year because we were remodeling, and so we’ve gone out weekly this year. I forgot how nice it is to paddle around local lakes and rivers, to get out in the sun and amid nature. We’ve had time and energy to see friends, ride bikes, take walks, host some cookouts and read. It’s been nice.

So what are you doing for your summer vacation? Do you like to travel or stay home? Share and I’ll choose two winners from the comments to get a signed copy of our anthology about the adventures of three heroines on very different summer vacations!

Sam

The heels. The cuteness. The pain.

I didn't think I'd ever get to this point.

sigh.

I'm giving up heels. . . at least the three inch variety. And I guess it's mostly my fault. I just don't wear them enough to keep the old muscles in trim and after a few (okay, four straight) hours on my feet in heels, Saturday night, I was in pain. Real stomp-on-my-toes-and-listen-to-me-scream-pain. On the way home from the Harlequin party I actually considered taking off my shoes and walking barefoot back to the hotel. In the street! I swear, if Kat and Larry Martin hadn't been with us I would have.

And these are the babies that were responsible:

They don't look particularly evil, do they? Not even particularly high. The three inches is as the back of the heel; the heel bed slants, so they don't seem so tall at first. And those little lucite bows draw your eye and make you think "cute" and make you forget all about the height factor. Until, of course, you've been standing in them for too long and that certain spot on your toes or the ball of your foot begins to hurt and by then it's already too late!

And you know what's worse? I can't get rid of them. I won't. I just LOVE them. A touch of whimsy and some cute. . . I'm such a sucker for cute. . . and the price was perfect. . . how could I ever get rid of such a loveable bargain?

You know. . . it's three/four days later and my toes are feeling much better and they're sitting on the floor of my closet, once again looking so adorable. And I'm putting them back on the shelf and telling myself I'll only wear them to events where I get to sit most of the time. Dinners. Indie films. Church. The library. I'll just be more prudent in HOW I wear them and HOW LONG. We can still be friends.

Okay, so I just had a momentary flash of insight. This is exactly how women get suckered into all kinds of bad relationships. We're the custodians of hope in our society. We can see possibilities in the most wretched and difficult situations and people. So we live in hope and persevere. . . wanting, expecting things to work out and change for the better. Sometimes they do. Sometimes they don't. When they don't, we're surprised and bewildered. How could our hopes betray us and not fulfill our expectations?

Time for some reality here. Hope is fine for people and relationships. People and relationships can change and get better. Sometimes they don't, but they can. Which is why we sometimes continue to hope for good things from them and for them even after logic and other people have declared them a lost cause. Many a troubled kid, many a troubled marriage, many a failing friendship has been rescued by a woman who believed in the power of the human heart to change and grow. . . to bloom into something good and loving and productive. That is worthy hope. That is useful hope. The kind of hope we should never give up on.

But shoes? Shoes don't change. (Except to wear out over time and use.) They can't say I'm sorry and make it up to you with a night out or a candleit dinner. They just sit there looking cute and accepting your adoration without the slightest twinge of conscience. No need to reciprocate. No desire to please you or make you comfortable. To hope that they'll be better next time is kind of deluded. The next time I wear these cute things for four straight hours of standing, they'll do the same darned thing to me, and I'll be in Band-Aids for two days afterward. Again. And what are the odds that I'll be able to resist and not wear them to places and for durations that exceed what I know is sensible?

They tickle my fancy and make me smile. I adore looking at them. I'm not so crazy about wearing them. So I think I should do the sensible thing with them: glue them to a board and call them "Art." Because that's what they are to me.

Or I could stuff them under my desk and stick my feet into them from time to time when I'm feeling frisky and need to write something snappy and fun.

Hey, yeah.

Make them my writing shoes!

What about you? Have any beloved shoes that need to become sculptures? How did you and your footwear manage during the RWA Conference? Are you wearing Band-Aids? Have any shoes or clothes in your closet that are prisoners of hope? You know, if you give them away, somebody else might actually be able to wear them. . .

RWA Conference Cleavage

Helen here, and, yes, I’m talking about Friday night’s Harlequin party. Where the wine flows like water, the dance floor shakes, rattles, and rolls and palm trees are felled by crazy romance writers swinging from the limbs like tipsy monkeys.

Okay, okay. So the seven foot tall by four foot wide plastic palm tree actually fell over all by itself some time during the night, bonking some poor soul in the head, but it sounded good, right?

Still it was a wild night. To give you an idea of how wild, here’s Deb Dixon at the beginning of the party.






And here she is at the end of the night!

Whoa, Deb!!





Truly, I had a great time and everyone looked gorgeous. Sexy too. And what follows are the photos to prove it.

Somewhere in here we’ve got Yours Truly, Connie Brockway, Michelle Buonfiglio, Wendy Etherington, Susan Kay Law, Lisa Gardner, Heather Graham, Trish Milburn, Christie Ridgway, Mary Strand, Anne Stuart and Nancy Warren. Yes, Cindy, you're supposed to be in here too, but I deleted your photo - too revealing. I do have SOME discretion. Sheesh!

Let’s have some fun guessing who’s who.














And I have to give away one little clue. Nancy Warren got her 25 BOOK pin Friday night from Harlequin, and she's wearing that special little bauble dead center, as she should. Congrats, NANCY!! That's amazing.

Unfortunately, I took so many shots of lovely women, I forgot what names went with a few of the pics. Not that everyone wasn't wonderfully memorable. I'm just a ditz. Or was it the wine? In any case, claim your cleavage ladies!! Are you in here?


















There is a cute story that goes with these pics.

Saturday morning, the morning after the party, I got up early for breakfast with my editor. My dh and son were still sound asleep when I left. A while later, I returned to the room to find my husband flicking through the pics on the camera. He turned to me with a grin and said, "I'm so glad you didn't make me go to the Harlequin party last night. All the highlights are right here!"

Here's to beautiful boobs!!