Wednesday, March 6, 2013

They Surprise You


     My children are very lazy.  I blame myself.  In my desire to live in a manner different from which I lived in as a child, I want everything to look nice.  Neat.  Problems don’t exist in tidy houses.  Of course I realize this is usually the opposite, but it makes me feel in control.  As I am outnumbered, I really need to feel in control of our chaos.  I like things done right, which means my way, so I have a problem delegating my household chores to those I live with, who are shorter than me.

     As my writing commitments become greater (yay!) this has become a problem.  A good problem, but a problem.   I simply have less time.  I need help.  I expect certain little people to start doing their part:  clear the table, pick up their clothes, put away their toys and make their beds.  This has been met with great resistance.   I’ve been shocked by the reactions of my four lazy, entitled little people.  Aside from the irritation I feel for their unwillingness to do what I say to help me, I fear that I’m going to be sending them out into the world lacking some very valuable skills.  So I soldier (nag) on.

     I told them that they had to clean out the car, because quite frankly, the inside of the car is disgusting.  I’d like to emphasize that they and all their stuff transform our vehicle into something I really can’t let people see (or smell).  Imagine my surprise when I walked outside to check on them and saw this:
 

 
 

      Maybe there’s hope for them after all.  That, or they just like to play with the hose!

Monday, February 25, 2013

This Makes Me Sad




My youngest, my baby (who’s five), fell on the stairs yesterday.  It was awful.  When I saw all the blood on him, his pjs and the toy cars he was holding (which didn’t let go of before, during or after), I screamed.  Not cool.  Rookie mistake.  I scared the bejesus out of him.  I wasn’t the only one who was scared.  Daddy actually made the trip to urgent care with me, because it did not look good.

CHOA, at 9 a.m. on a Sunday morning in February, was packed.  We had to wait, as I held a blood soaked towel to my baby’s lip.  In triage I heard:  “Is there a hole?”  “Can you see through?”  “Maybe he needs to go downtown.”  Dang.

Fortunately, after cleaning the lip and chin, they opted for stiches.  He received numbing cream, a pharmaceutical “cocktail” and a tetanus shot (which had me on the edge), producing some whimpering from both mother and son, that I hope to never hear again.  After two stitches on the outside and two on the inside, we went home with one chillaxed boy, who I was hoping wouldn’t remember a thing.

Two hours later, the rascal had chewed though his inside stiches, so back to urgent care I went.  Momma was not happy.  Fortunately, they had mercy on me and swept me right to the back, all the while the hordes in the waiting room stared daggers into my back.  Poor Cam had to get two more stiches, this time with just the numbing cream, but my boy is brave.  Braver than me.  I couldn’t even watch, I just cried into his back as they performed the procedure.

It was a rough day.  Although it wasn’t my first emergency trip or my first experience with stiches and my children, it’s always an excruciating experience.  My heart can barely take it.  I have three boys, so I’m often told it’s a rite of passage.  It’s one I could do without.  Me and blood have never been a good mix.  I’m better with vomit, mucus and diapers (don’t ask me why). 

What about you?  Any trips to the ER?  What can you NOT handle when it comes to your children?

And the Oscar Goes To...

     I love the Oscars and I’ve watched every year since 1980, which was the year that celebrated Kramer vs. Kramer, a movie I loved (I was a weird kid) and the beginning of my Meryl Streep adulation.  The incomparable Johnny Carson hosted – I miss you Johnny!  I was also excited that the girl from Smokey and the Bandit (my point of reference, since I’d not seen Norma Rae) won Best Actress.  The next year I sang along with Irene Cara as she performed Fame.  Coal Miners Daughter was one of my favorite movies, so it was very exciting for me when Sissy Spacek won Best Actress.  At the time, I had no clue who Robert Di Nero was, but he’d gained and lost a lot of weight so I thought he was the bomb.  Apparently that was a great strategy, because over the years many actors have emulated him in their quests for the golden statue.

     I have many memories of the Oscars over the years.   I was fascinated by Cher’s audacity to show up at the ceremony in a headdress, but later concluded she was totally disrespectful.  I always love it when Jack Nicholson wins, because I know there will be a kick-ass speech.  Ditto for Meryl Streep.  I cried like a baby when Jane Fonda accepted her dad’s Oscar.  My favorite year was 1998 when Titanic, Good Will Hunting and LA Confidential ruled the nominations.  I was crushed when Annette Benning lost for the second time to Hillary Swank.  I take it all way too personal, often yelling at the T.V.

     Then there were the WTF memories.  Rob Lowe singing with Snow White?  Why?  Madonna on a date with Michael Jackson?  Yuck.  Angelia and her brother?  Double Yuck.  Marissa Tomei (who I love, btw) beats Judy Davis, Vanessa Redgrave and Miranda Richardson?  Recount!  Bjork and that swan dress?  Really?  James Cameron’s “King of the World” speech?  Puhleeezzz! 

     Okay, so my awards show love may have begun with the Oscars, but I am far from monogamous.  I also fawn over the Golden Globes (my favorite), the SAGs (bless them for being only two hours!), the Emmys (love my Primetime), the Grammys (which I prefer to record so I can fast forward though less favored songs).  I love it all - the red carpet, the dresses, the jewelry, the suspense, the reading of the names, the reactions of both the winners and losers, and the speeches!  Extra bonus points for the Golden Globes.  All the schmoozing and back slapping that goes on just before and after commercial breaks are fascinating to watch.  God bless you NBC for having the cameras on till the last second.

     I have awards show rituals.  I love the pre-game shows and prefer E! to the primetime network shows.  I can’t stand Joan and Melissa because I think they’re rude, clueless of the actor’s resumes and I have no clue who designated them fashion experts.  I always drink champagne.  I always keep score.  I always make my husband watch the opening monologue and the first two awards, after which he either runs from the room, or I kick him out for making annoying comments about narcissism and nepotism.  I always call, or text, or email my girlfriends about all the goings on.  During the Globes this year, I exchanged 157 emails with one of my peeps. 

Okay, one more little ritual – and it’s kind of embarrassing.  When I was a little girl, I wanted to be an actress.  Watching the awards shows, I’d dream of attending one day and of course, winning.  I’d daydream about and practice my acceptance speech in the bathroom mirror.  My dreams of fame and glory have long since dissipated, but I still run my acceptance speech through my head.  Depending on the champagne consumption, my acceptance speech may even be practiced out loud – aaaahhhh!  I know, I know.   Times have changed though; nowadays I’m accepting the Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay.  In my dream world, I thank Oprah for discovering and championing my book, producing the movie and asking my girl Jennifer Aniston to star.   I get excited just typing these words!

     Tonight, I anticipate good things for my Boston boy, Ben Affleck.  When he wins Best Picture, he’ll probably be joined on the podium with his producer, George Clooney, so I’ll be a happy girl.  I just have to stay up till the bitter end, which gets harder and harder every year. Damn you Pacific Cost Time! 

     I’ll sign off with a “…And I’d like to thank the Academy…”

 

Post Script:  Benny Boy did win!  And out of twelve top categories, I was I picked eleven winners.   My best year yet.

 

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Jane Porter


Jane Porter


My first interaction with Jane Porter occurred during the summer of 2008.  I’d just finished FOUR of her books (Odd Mom Out, Mrs. Perfect, The Frog Prince, and Flirty With Forty) and was enamored with her storytelling.  Author stalker that I am, I checked out her website, where I discovered three things - they were making Flirty With Forty into a movie starring Heather Locklear;  Flirting was loosely based on her life;  and she had a blog (I love author blogs). 

The first blog I read was also a contest, which I promptly entered.  Low and behold – I WON!  Yay me!  I received a gorgeous beach bag and a thick, hot pink beach towel…both of which I still own and use.  The beach bag was filled with candy, a Starbucks card and three beach books (not hers, either).  How generous is that?  Honestly, I’m unaware of any other authors who regularly give away so many serious prizes (and if you know of any….let me know, so I can stalk and win).

Then, after I read Easy on the Eyes, I sent a fan letter (I do this with any author whose book I love, so settle down with any concerns about my stalking).  She responded back and we exchanged a couple of e-mails.  A few months later she posted a blog about the promotion of She’s Gone Country and how she’d be visiting the south.  I suggested that she contact the Margaret Mitchel House, as they often host book and author events with southern themes.  Who wouldn’t want to celebrate their book at the home of the woman who wrote Gone With the Wind?  Jane thanked me, but wrote that she preferred more intimate settings, like bookstores or book clubs.  Well I had a book club – did she want to come to mine?  She said yes.  Just like that.  Can believe it?

Jane kept her word!  She came to Atlanta (from Seattle!) and took my whole book club out to dinner and gave us gift bags to boot.  How incredibly cool is that?  We were fans for life.  As she was leaving, Jane told me she’d had a great time and would love to come back.  Any time, momma!

Jane did come back.  Last week she was in town to speak at a Georgia Romance Writers meeting and host a reader event.   She offered to visit my new book club.  I insisted that it was my turn to host, because I wanted the chance to reciprocate her generosity.  Jane came for dinner, girl talk and book talk, and she brought a friend – another author, Wendy Wax.  Lucky girls, we got two for the price of one.

Jane discussed both The Good Woman and The Good Daughter but absolutely refused to spill about The Good Wife(!), which is the third book in the Brennan sisters trilogy (out in September).  She discussed story development and shared her bible of notes and pictures about the stories, characters and settings, some of which you can check out on Pinterest.   Jane and Wendy both talked to us about the publishing world and their writing processes, which are very different.  I was on the edge of my seat, fascinated.  I learned so much and had a great time. 

The first time Jane came, I was a nervous wreck.  Scared to death, actually, as authors are almost like rock stars to me.  It’s so hard to get published and even harder to stay getting published.  Jane has written and published forty-four books, which is mind boggling!  This time was chill.  She walked right into the house calling my name, asking for a glass of wine, like we’d known each other for years.  I’m so grateful for her visit, her insight, her writing, her sharing and her friendship.

Now go read her books – you’ll love them!
 
Book Club 2010

 
Book Club 2013

Chick Lit Central Book Review

 
 Strawberry Wine by Lee Adams



Please check out my latest guest review on
Chick Lit Central: The Blog
 
 

Friday, February 22, 2013