August 5, 2008 | Filed under: Stuff

You know what I love most about Mountain Barbie? Her eternal optimism. She honestly believes that one of these days as she leaps with wild enthusiasm onto our bed at five in the morning, EVERY morning, that she will be greeted with equal unabashed joy instead of a “GET OFF MY FACE!” She believes that one of these days as she (warning! ew alert!) licks the kitten’s butt, said kitten won’t slap her across the face — with claws.

She believes that one of these days if she wolves her food down in two seconds flat, we’ll give her more, especially if she gives us the huge hound dog eyes and adds a soulful whine. And most of all, she believes that one of these days, as she attempts to run into the house with a five foot branch sticking out either side of her mouth, that she won’t be thwarted by the three foot wide opening of said door.

Eternal optimism.

But then again, she also believes that humans enjoy her nose in their crotch and that it’s okay to drink out of the toilet.

Thank God she’s pretty.

August 4, 2008 | Filed under: Stuff

Coming home from San Francisco, I got stuck on the runway behind a long line of planes. The pilot came on and said we were number twenty seven and it should move quickly.

He lied.

For a full hour, I was stuck with no air on a plane that was a million degrees between a man who was six foot four and a former linebacker, and a older woman wearing a very itchy wool sweater. I tried to shrink in on myself but I’d eaten like a PIG for five days (thank you my lovely editors) and there was no shrinking to be had. My left arm was getting itchy from the wool and my right arm was twisted in front of me because frankly, Mr. Linebacker was scary. He didn’t speak, just sort of grunted and shot everyone dirty looks, and more intimidating, he was the window seat and yet he was leaning forward, blocking the view. Feeling claustrophobic, I leaned back.

Then so did he.

I swear he was just messing with me and you know what? It was working. I pulled out my phone to text Alpha Man the following: IF I DON’T MAKE IT HOME IT’S BECAUSE I’VE BEEN TAKEN TO THE LOONEY BIN FOR LOSING IT COMPLETELY ON THIS PLANE.

But before I could send it, the stewardess flew of her seat and pointed accusingly at my phone. “Ma’am, you can’t text on a plane!”

I looked out the window. Alcatraz was actually looking welcoming . . .

The point was, WE WERE STILL ON THE GROUND. I looked at the VERY cute guy on the other side of the aisle, working his iPhone like his thumbs were on fire. He was texting. He didn’t have anyone on either side of him either. Some people have all the luck. “We’re not off the ground yet,” I protested.

“You can’t text on the runway.” She said this in the tone of You Are A Pain In My Ass.

Again, I looked at VERY cute guy, who was now simultaneously checking his email and surfing the internet. Dammit, he was on TMZ, one of my favorite procrastination sites. I wanted to be on TMZ!

“Ma’am!”

Jeez. I turned off my phone. Pouted for a little bit, which got me no peanuts, I can tell you that. And I was so squished. And itchy. And afraid of Linebacker dude, who was now snoring in my ear, and possibly drooling on my shoulder. I looked over the aisle. VERY cute guy was now sprawled across all three seats, still on his damn phone. You know what? VERY cute guy? You suck. I sent him that message telepathically, and I swear he looked over at me and smirked.

SMIRKED.

And then it happened. The kid behind him leapt upright, said “uh oh” while his face turned a fascinating shade of green. And then he blew. That’s right, he blew chunks EVERYWHERE, but mostly on VERY cute guy.

The moral of this story? If you’re VERY cute and you have a brand new iPhone and you smirk at the less fortunate, like people squished into their seats close to meltdowns . . . watch out. Some little kid is just waiting to even up the score.

August 2, 2008 | Filed under: Stuff

So I’m missing my bunny slippers and sweats like I’d miss a limb but I am very happy I came to the RWA writer’s conference. After working alone all year, I got to spend time with lifelong, dear dear friends . . . (Hi Maureen Child!!!)

Got to catch up with my agent and my WONDERFUL editors. And dare I say it? Best of all, I went here:

Oh. My. God. I wanted to go swimming in a vat of chocolate. I’m not kidding.

I nearly climbed the barrier and dove in. My lovely cousin Cathy stopped me. She said I might get fat. That didn’t stop me. She said chocolate was hard to get out of hair. That stopped me. I have enough hair problems. (Hi Cathy, thanks for taking me to Pier 39 where we got to eat and see the crazy silver guy)

Crazy Silver Guy between the piers, who wanted me to come closer. Um, no thank you:

Oh, and the sea lions! You would have thought it was spring, there was so much romance going on. Check out the nookie going on in the back row . . .

And . . .

Honestly, guys, get a room. This is a family pier!

P.S. A HUGE thank you to Diane who came by my signing today with PRESENTS (cookies!!!!). JUST what I needed, especially since I hadn’t jumped into the vat of chocolate (which I think shows remarkable restraint on my part, don’t you?) In the meantime, I’m taking my bleary-eyed self to bed, and not in the good way. Unlike these two:

August 1, 2008 | Filed under: Stuff

Hey there. I’m off my mountain and in the big lovely city of San Francisco at a writer’s conference. And let me tell you, my city roots are showing. Leaving behind my sweats and bunny slippers, I packed dresses and jackets and HEELS and mascara.

Only so I forgot the mascara. And a slip, but that’s another story all together.

It’s a quiet world being a writer, except for once a year at national conference. I tend to forget now noisy and crazy and wonderful it is to be in a hotel with 2,000 other people just like me. But I’m betting that very few of those people forgot their mascara and then promptly locked herself out of her room . . .

Ugh. Alpha Man often says “It must be hard to be you” and yeah. It is. But today I did a Harlequin Blaze signing. There were 150 of my books there, and in less than an hour, they were gone. I had fun catching up with some familiar faces. Here I am with Donna M, a frequent visitor here on this blog (excuse the drugged out look on my face, I’d just consumed ten chocolate kisses):

And here are Shannon and Erin, also visitors on this blog. Hi Shannon! Hi Erin! Lovely to see you!

Signing right next to me was Leslie Kelly (I’m without my jacket now because it was oh, about a million degrees in that room and I was sweating off my cookie weight)

And here is Terri Shaeffer. Notice, I’m nearly having a Janet Jackson nipplegate situation going on, sheesh!

I will be going to dinner with many of the Harlequin Blaze authors later, where I hope to avoid sweating, losing my top, and/or saying anything stupid. But I’m on day two with no cookies, so I can’t be held accountable.

July 31, 2008 | Filed under: Stuff

I forgot how much I loved San Francisco. It’s gloriously cool, sharp blue skies, and people asking for money on every corner . . .

So different from where I live now. This morning before I got on a plane, I went for a quick walk. This was my view:

When I got into San Francisco, sans ANY MAKE UP BECAUSE I’M AN IDIOT, I had to take a little walk about to Walgreens. Here was my new and quite different view:

This morning to get to the airport, my driver had a bit of an attitude:

And then, in San Francisco, my cabbie didn’t have an attitude. He just DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE. My God. My heart is still pounding.

Here was the view out of town this morning:

And here’s the view from my hotel. Just a little different, each with their own merits:

This view doesn’t come with the voices my house does, the ones that say things like “Mom, where’s my key?” or “Mom, she’s looking at me!” or “Honey, have you seen my wallet?”

But I sure do miss those voices . . .

July 29, 2008 | Filed under: Stuff

I’m trying to read a set of galleys, go over a set of copy edits, put the finishing touches on a proposal for my editor, get the laundry done, get my car fixed, all while trying not to talk myself out of going to a writer’s conference in San Francisco tomorrow . . . my head feels like it just might explode, and here is Ashes with her one simple need. To be with me.

Or correction, to have me throw the ball.

I couldn’t resist, of course, and ended up on the grass with her for a half an hour that I shouldn’t have spared. But I’m so glad I did. So here’s my words of wisdom today: remember to slow down and smell the flowers! (And throw the ball . . .)