Sunday, February 27, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday 2-27-11

 Happy Anniversary to Six Sentence Sunday! What a fun site!

This week, we'll take six sentences from my first paranormal romance 'Passing Whispers'. It's been a year since Kate lost her husband during a robbery. Not only has he come back from the grave to say goodbye, he's trying to help her find a new love. He encourages Kate to go on a date with a co-worker, and promises that he'll stay home and watch a movie on TV.

"Which movie? Let me guess…Ghost, Sixth Sense or Beetlejuice?”
No, he said, putting his hands on his hips defiantly. City Of Angels, actually.
“Why? Does that movie portray the world of spirits in a way that’s closer to the truth than the others?”
No, because Meg Ryan looks really hot in scrubs.
She laughed and threw a towel at him. Then she went into her closet and slipped on a pair of high heels.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

An Apology To My Stuff

Dear Stuff:
I don't know how to break this to you... but we're moving again. I know. I know. How many times can one person move? You're right. How many times have I promised that it was the last time? All I can say is that I'm sorry.

Some of you have been with me since I was a teenager. Let's not try to calculate exactly how long that is. Some of you have stuck with me through 28 years of marriage, the birth of three children and three grand-children. I will reward your senority with extra bubble-wrap. I know you're old. And tired. I am, too.

I know some of you carry the scars of sharing a life with me. Cracks, chips, wrinkles, fading and yellowing. I share your pain. Children have written on you with crayons and magic marker. Dropped you and used you for lowly tasks un-befitting of your value to me. I swear, I swooped you up every time I saw the kids using you as a kitty dish or ashtray. 

And I haven't forgotten the brave stuff that didn't make it through the moves. I shudder when I recall the roughness of the past moving men. The poor items left behind in the old places or the moving vans. My heart still aches for the stuff I lost to my ex-husband in the divorce. If I ever start dating a burglar, I assure you, I'll have him rob the ex's place and get you all back where you really belong.

Please try to have positive thoughts. Every time we move, you all get a good cleaning. I find new places to show you off. I reminisce of the day I got you. What could be better than that? And, as with every move, there will be new stuff. They may be shinier and brighter, but they will never replace you.

Please... forgive me. I will watch over the young bucks helping me tomorrow, and scream at each and every one of them to be careful, every five minutes. I already have extra tubes of glue in case of emergencies.

Stick with me, guys. We're a team. I can't promise this will be the last move... but at least I'm not old enough to be in a nursing home. Yet.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday 2-20-11

Hello again! I'm so excited to be part of Six Sentence Sunday! It's been a lot of fun so far! This excerpt is from 'LeeAnn Vaughn: A Way With Murder' again. 

Last week, we met Arnold Longfield, a despicable, callous husband who's planning to murder his wife. This week, he's just injected her with succinylcholine. He already called 911 and carried her to the bathroom while waiting for them to respond. He plans to tell them she's suffering from an asthma attack.

He knelt down beside Lenore and looked directly into her eyes. “What’s that, dear? You can’t breathe?” He chuckled as he placed his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up towards his. “Don’t worry. An ambulance is on the way. You hang in there a little longer, okay?”

Six Sentence Sunday is the lovely idea of Sara Brookes, and it’s a chance for novelists to post on their blogs six sentences from a current work-in-progress, finished novel making the agent-editor rounds, or published masterpiece. A central website, appropriately entitled Six Sentence Sunday, then hosts a set of links, enabling anyone interested to check ‘em out.
Interested writers are encouraged to join the fun. Read the instructions here.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Little Frustrations

Maybe it's because I'm getting old and crotchety, but it doesn't take a lot to set me off now adays (including the fact that my spell checker firmly believes that 'now adays' is NOT a word. It IS! Isn't it?). However, there must be a certain amount of satisfaction derived from complaining. I work as a nursing supervisor and everyone complains to me. I can only assume it's because it makes them feel better. So, today I want to rant about 'Word Verification'.

I enjoy reading many Blogs, and sometimes I leave a comment. Or, I TRY to leave a comment. I get it just right (one that will make everyone think I'm funny, clever and oh, so entertaining) and then that 'Word Verification' box comes up. Your comment will not be posted unless you type in the word that is written in the box. They claim it's to protect the Blog Writer from Spam generated by computers. That only a human is able to read the 'Word Verification'.

This rubs me in all the wrong places (and usually causes me to suffer additional hot flashes I might not have had) for several reasons.
1) I write  a Blog. I would gladly erase spam comments from my Blog if it made it easier for Readers to comment. I want my Readers to enjoy themselves while they're here, not suffer even one teensy speck of extra frustration. I personally know many of my Readers and believe me when I say they don't need any more frustration in their lives.
2) Does someone actually think that HUMANS don't write spam messages?
3) I'm middle-aged with LOTS of company. We Baby Boomers will soon be in the majority. (Yea Us!) Most of the time I can't READ the 'Word Verification'. They write what they think is a cleverly disguised word for us to re-type. The word is usually twisted. Sometimes the letters are typed so close together, it's hard to distinguish one from another. Often, I'm not sure if the letter is a lower case 'L' or an upper case 'I'. 

I never get it on the first attempt. Occasionally, my initial frustration is exasperated by the entire comment being erased. The one that I so cleverly wrote, but can't remember now. 

WHY DO THEY DO THIS? Why can't we just write a damn comment, and then let the Blog writer decide whether to post it or not? Why does every little thing have to be so hard? 

Where's my Xanax?

Leave me a comment. If you can!

Monday, February 14, 2011

Happy Valentine's Day

Well, here I was, all ready to post a blog about the sickeningly sweet displays of Valentine's Day that will abound today. I was going to grumble about all the money wasted on greetings cards, chocolate, flowers and expensive dinners couples would be buying for each other to 'prove their love'.

I was planning to accuse Hallmark of deliberately inventing such a day, just to increase their profits. I envisioned myself smirking at all the weddings and marriage proposals taking place today. I even thought about recalling my elementary school days, where a shy and lonely little girl may have perceived her entire worth as a person from the amount of Valentine's Day cards she did or didn't get from her classmates.

Being divorced myself, and not having a date for the past two years made me kind of jaded, I guess. Not to mention the menopausal witch who lives inside of me, ever waiting to jump out and rear her ugly head. 

Yep, I was gonna do it up big time. Just about ruin the day for all the happy couples I could find. 

But then, just like in the story 'The Grinch Who Stole Christmas' my teeny little heart warmed and grew. I met a guy on-line and met him for dinner on Saturday night. He was very nice and we talked for three and a half hours. Better yet, we've planned a second date. And although it's very new and may not even go anywhere, I've been reminded what it's like to be a "we". The pleasure of an intimate conversation with a person who wants to know you, not because he's related to you, or works with you, but because he wants to. The warm glow and distant flicker of excitement to think that maybe, just maybe, he may even desire me as a woman. For so long now I have thought of myself only as a mom, a grandmom and a nursing supervisor. The role of woman was rapidly becoming a faded memory.

And even if it doesn't work out, I felt honored to be considered, relieved I still had it in me to get out there and try and blessed to be reminded of what romance is all about.

Relationships are hard. Should we have a day set aside to celebrate love, however much we're lucky to have? You betcha!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Six Sentence Sunday 2-13-11

I'm almost finished my next novel 'LeeAnn Vaughn: A Way With Murder'.  LeeAnn's a middle-aged nursing supervisor at a small hospital in South Jersey. With a divorce behind her, an exasperatingly unfocused daughter with a young son to worry about, a philandering, unemployed boyfriend, a father with Alzheimer's in a nursing home to care for and the daily struggle of fighting menopause, she leads a pretty normal life.

But when a woman is brought into the emergency room and dies after an asthma attack, LeeAnn suspects... murder. No one takes her suspicions seriously, so she sets out to prove it on her own. Using only the skills she learned watching forensic television shows, a wild imagination and a caring heart of a nurse, she puts herself and her family in danger. Here's an excerpt:

Lenore was snoring and a bit of drool oozed out the corner of her mouth. She had taken off her shoes during the flight and he now imagined that he could smell her feet. Any other time, Longfield would be disgusted, but this time, he smiled. He knew the years of suffering with his wife’s numerous personality flaws were almost over.  In three more days… she‘ll be dead.
“We’re getting ready to land, sweetheart,” he whispered into Lenore’s ear. “See? I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Six Sentence Sunday is the lovely idea of Sara Brookes, and it’s a chance for novelists to post on their blogs six sentences from a current work-in-progress, finished novel making the agent-editor rounds, or published masterpiece. A central website, appropriately entitled Six Sentence Sunday, then hosts a set of links, enabling anyone interested to check ‘em out.
Interested writers are encouraged to join the fun. Read the instructions here.