my mind...the sieve
You would think that for as much as I do and keep track of, I'd have a better memory. You really would. This, however, is not the case. As a matter of fact, I have a notoriously bad short term memory. Honestly, I can remember things that happened when I was three, but not what I decided I should do an entry on last night.
Case in point: I walked down to the coffee shop i frequent yesterday afternoon. I packed up my bag with my alphasmart and a couple of books, intent on enjoying the sun and getting some work done. Keep in mind please, that I live at the top of a hill that is quite the pain to walk up. But I figured it was a beautiful day and even though my bag was heavy, it would be worth it. Plus, isn't hill walking good for me? So, I sat down for a few highly enjoyable hours. I had my tea, I had a good book, I had my writing. What more could I ask for? Apprently plenty. I decided before I left that I should make a quick stop at the grocery store (conveniently located attached to the coffee shop) for milk and butter (both of which i was out of). Upon entering the store, I thought to myself, "Hmmm...I could also use some turkey. Better grab a basket and see if there is anything else I need." Now, keep in mind this is all while still carrying around my very heavy bag. In the end I bought (among other things) half a watermelon, a half gallon of milk, butter, egg whites and bread. I paid, I left, and then I stood in front of the store wondering where I had parked my car. D'oh! Damn! *mental forehead slap* I walked. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I am a bit of a dork sometimes. So me and my bag and my two very heavy bags of groceries started the trek up the hill in 90 degree heat. This was not my finest moment. Was this a blond moment?
The day the music died...
I rarely come home from a night of dancing saying, "My, that was boring". As a matter of fact, usually, I come back from dancing still high on the energy of the music. Sadly, you cannot have a night of dancing when the music (and the bar said music is in) will not cooperate. And you know it's bad music when the hot bartender is not bartending but instead waving you down to say how happy he is he got off work early. Now he can go somewhere where the music has not died to try not to embarrass himself too badly by dancing like the white man that he is. Now, I feel the need point out here that the usual band, The Kennedy Bros., pack this particular bar most Saturday nights. Simply put, they rock! Sadly, the sorry soul who actually invited this particular DJ to come spin tonight should quite possibly be forcefully removed from his position. I wonder, how much money will the bar lose tonight due to bad music?
I should also point out that we did attempt to go to a couple of other places around town. Unfortunately, the music just wasn't all that appealing at many of them, and the particular patrons they were attracting even less so.
Of course, the night wasn't a total loss. The bouncers (who have gotten to know me and Ms. K from our many nights out to this particular pub) didn't charge us the normal cover, and of course, we got to chat with my favorite bartender. But, I am still left with the desperate urge to get out and dance, with no where to go..
Reading lists...
So, as a writer, I'm often asked by my friends to share the titles and authors of books that I have read recently and have enjoyed. My friend Shannon has done this, as have several other bloggers I know, and I can't help but think it is a fabulous idea. In saying that, please continue to check back for more book suggestions in the future.
Today's Selection is:
Urban Shaman by C.E. Murphy
Amazon.com has this to say:
Joanne Walker has three days to learn to use her shamanic powers and save the world from the unleashed Wild Hunt.
No worries. No pressure. Nevermind the lack of sleep, the perplexing new talent for healing from fatal wounds, or the cryptic, talking coyote who appears in her dreams.
And if all that's not bad enough, in the three years Joanne's been a cop, she's never seen a dead body -- but she's just come across her second in three days.
It's been a bitch of a week. And it isn't over yet.
For anyone looking for a new book to check out, this one is definitely worth the money. Happy Reading!
Random sights...
I went biking with Mom again today (thankfully, no falling involved), while my fellow writers are at the 2005 RWA National Conference, having lots of fun without me. But it's all good as they have called me several times since arriving in Reno to share their joy with me.
So, back to riding. Mom and I were riding along, all is calm. We're laughing, chatting, you know the usual. Suddenly, a tiny man (seriously, maybe 5'3"?) comes running toward the trail full-tilt. I think he's going to start running on the trail, so I slow down and start to swerve out of his way. But no. Apparently all he wanted to do was give us a laugh. The tiny man (who by the way is only wearing shorts and running shoes, no shirt) runs up to the trail, stops, hikes his shorts up to just under his armpits, turns around and runs off.
*Snort* What was that about?
Objects in rearview mirror may be smaller than they appear...
Or, in the case of the airplane window, stranger than they appear.
On a recent flight back to Sunny Seattle (yes, it was actually sunny), Ms. K noticed something highly entertaining when looking out her window. And no, it had nothing to do with the child in the seat in front of us who seemed highly amused by Ms. K. No, one second everything is fine, the next second Ms. K is laughing her head off. I looked at her quizzically (because really, is there any other way to look at Ms. K?), to which she responded, "No people in the engine!!" followed by giggle, giggle and a couple of snorts. Huh? No people allowed in the engine? What is she talking about? What is she on? I leaned over the two seats separating us to peer out the window in a sorry attempt to figure out the mind of my dear friend. Apparently we are in the row directly in front of the wing, where you can see the little engine part. Upon this cylindrical piece of metal is the universal sign for people surrounded by a big red circle and a line through it. Yes, ladies and gentleman. Apparently people need to be warned that the big giant metal pieces could chop them up into little bits and spit them back out. People must be warned how dangerous an engine can be. It's like those instructions on a hair dryer: Do Not Use While Sleeping.
So okay, don't go in the engine. People are not allowed in the engine. I can accept this, because really, i never had the desire to go in to the engine in the first place. However, I would like to know who the not so intelligent person was that DID go into the engine and got spit back out in little pieces.
What can I say, I'm talented...
I went biking with Mom again today. Really, you would not think this was cause for any large amount of concern. That is, unless you realize that I am about as graceful as a Mac Truck.
I'm the first to admit that I am slightly accident prone. I have a tendency to hit my head on things quiet often, and have been known to regularly trip over my own two feet. One friend will only walk on my left hand side as she feels i tend to "drift" when walking, and she doesn't apprecited my keys slamming into her hip.
So, we're riding along. The trail is flat and the sun isn't really out. Everything is going along fine until Mom decides she needs a drink of water. Only Mom can't get the bottle open one handed, so we need to stop. Again, not something you would think would be difficult. I've been stopping my bike for years. I've been on two-wheels since I was 7, and using handbrakes since I was 10 or so. With the exception of a run in between me and the rear end of a car (and before that a run in between me and a pole in the parking garage), I have not had any serious incidents on my bike. I'm fairly capable (though not very quick, but we've discussed this before). Mom manages to stop without incident and starts to open her water. While she is doing this, I have a sudden realization. I'm stuck. Yes, I'm stuck. My shoelace is caught in my cage and I cannot pull my left foot out. Now, You wouldn't think this would be so difficult. I have two feet, I should just be able to pull my right foot out and stop the bike. However, my left foot (at least when riding) is my lead foot. this is the foot I push off with, and the foot I release first when stopping. Apparently, if the left foot is trapped, my right foot does not know what to do and stays where it is, in the cage. So, now both my feet are stuck in their respective cages and I have braked. Want to guess at what came next?
Yes, in my infinite grace and agility, I went down like a felled tree, landing directly on my knee and now have a fancy war wound to show for it. I'm proud. Yes, I am proud because not everyone can pull off such a move.
Repeat after me...
I will only wear clothes that FLATTER my figure.
Sigh. I was recently at Starbucks, writing away (as I am supposed to be doing right now), when a woman came in and just made me cringe. now, keep in mind, she was pretty attractive, however she obviously has no idea what looked good on her based on what she was wearing. See, I have this rule. If your skirt is short enough that others can see your hooha when you bend over, it's too short. Also, you better have the legs to carry off this short skirt, or again, don't wear it.
Sadly, this did not listen to my rules. These are rules for the good of humanity. seriously people. A skirt that short does not flatter you when your thighs start to strain the fabric. I realize this all makes me sound a tad judgmental, but let's be honest. It's just not attractive.
What the...?
So, there's a show on MTV called Date My Mom. Apparently the premise is that the guy goes out with the moms of three different girls, in order to choose who to date. He goes on a date with each mom, and then gets to ask the mom questions about her daughter in order to make a decision about who to choose.
Okay. What mom is going to bad mouth her daughter on television to get her a date? hm? It just seems wrong. Very, very wrong. The mom's all ask their daughters what they should NOT talk about, then end up bringing it up in conversation anyway. Again, this airs on national television, so the daughter will eventually find out what the mom said about her, not to mention what the guy thought about the daughter based on what the mom said. How is this show a good thing? All I see coming out of it are years of family therapy.
On the road again...
It's a very good thing that Mom and me get along well. Also that we are able to laugh at ourselves. Especially considering our excursion yesterday. It was frought with opportunities for one or both of us to lose our cool.
it started out great. for all of you who don't know it, we always try to leave early, which really means leaving late. We actually left on time yesterday. We were cruising along, having a blast. We get through the border crossing with no problem (though there was a huge back up of people trying to get back into the US). Of course, once we get through and look at the map, we realize we're going to have to find our way west somehow, because we're on the wrong highway. The way we were going, we'd actually by-pass Vancouver, which was not the plan.
So, we stop and get directions, and make our way down 10 toward 99. I (as navigator) see signs for 99 North, and tell mom to go to the right, but then we rethink it and say go straight (cuz darn it, the sign was confusing). Needless to say, we get on 99, and drive and drive and drive. Eventually Mom starts to wonder if we're on the right road, which according to the part of the map i'm looking at, we should be. But if we look at the street signs, it does not appear we are going the right way. One more stop to ask for directions later we find out we're on 99A, not 99. I'm sorry. That is just confusing!! at least put another number on there and make sure your signs show the A!!
4 hours of driving later we finally make it to Vancouver. Normally this is about a three hour drive. Good thing we were laughing about it.
We got to Stanley Park starved, and tracked down the Shuttle Trolley to hitch a ride up to Prospect Point for lunch. The trolley driver was a hoot. :D Sadly, i think i'm the only one who got her jokes. One lunch later we started walking down along the seawall. Of course, during lunch we realized that we really didn't know where the car was parked, or how to find it again. Sigh. More laughing.
But before anyone worries, we did find the car eventually. of course, it required another ride around the park on the trolley. And we eventually made it home.
You've got Marilyn Monroe hair!
Yes, someone actually said this to me last night. Several times in fact. I'm still not sure where the connection came from, but I'll take the complement in a heartbeat.
I went dancing with a couple of friends last night when our plans for a game night fell through. So off we went to my favorite bar to dance the night away. Did I mention this was Seafair weekend? That of course means the ships are in town. And when the ships come to town, they bring the Navy men with them. All the more reason for us to go out, if you ask me.
My accomplishments for the night include catching the attention of the Hot Bartender I've lusted after for the last two years (hey, I got a kiss on the hand. I'm doing good!). Danced most of the night with Hot Navy Guy (yes he was a fabulous dancer) and managed to get a kiss on the hand, the cheek as well as multiple comments about how my hair looks like Marilyn Monroe's. I also got a kiss on the hand hello from the drummer of one of my favorite live bands, along with compliments to my hair. Hmmm...must have done something right to it last night if everyone feels the need to compliment it. Don't know for sure what it was, but I'll be sure to do my best to repeat it.
Things I learned from last night? Apparently the hand is the body part du jour for kissing.
Oh, and I'm short. This of course was pointed out to me while standing at the bar next to a man who had to be at least 6'7". At least. He turned to me, looked down and said, "Either you are really short, or I am really tall. Or you are standing in a hole." For the record, I stand at 5'1" so the first two statements were very true. Sadly, this was apparently the extent of his flirting abilities, because when I turned back from paying for my drink, he had wandered off.
I love my family...
One of the core relationships in anyone's life is that between themselves and their family. I've used this as the basis for my current manuscript. The idea came to me when I was watching my mom and my nana talk about something (couldn't tell you exactly what at this point). I watched the interaction, and remembered countless conversations I've had with Mom and Nana (both together and separately) and recognized a universal truth: we cannot escape our families :D Not that I want to escape my family. Well, at least not most of the time.
I was reminded further about what prompted me to write my WIP, during a recent conversation with Mom. It went a bit like this:
Me: Hey, just wanted to let you know about last night...
Mom: How did it go?
Me: He didn't show, but there were some other people there. (insert details of the other male-type people at said event that I was able to flirt with).
Mom: How old is he?
Me: Probably about my age or a couple of years older.
Mom: Will you see him again? Did you give him your number?
Me: Yes we'll probably see each other again. I have my ways. He didn't ask, so no I did not give him my number. There really wasn't a good time to do that.
H (my stepdad, who can only hear one side of the conversation, in the background yelling to me): Give him your card! Don't wait! Give him your card!
*sigh* it's good to know I'm loved and that my family cares. really it is.
Guest Blog - Alesia Holliday Visits!!
So one day I was thinking about today’s woman, as I often do, considering that I write funny books about the everyday (and not so everyday!) things we all go through, and I was wondering about that perpetual dilemma – the Myth of the Nice Girl.
Somehow, through a peculiar evolution of the professional environment, women today are finally recognized (mostly) as equally competent, ambitious, and dedicated as men in the workforce. (We’ll leave the “we have to work smarter and harder” argument aside for now.) But yet, we have an added burden: we have to be NICE.
Now, this isn’t really tough for most women, most of the time. We were raised to be nice. That’s what little girls do, right? “Play nice!” “Be nice!” Except, well, there are times when you can’t be all that nice . . . Boyfriend cheating? Kick him to the curb! Um, in a nice way? Opposing counsel trying underhanded tactics? Notify the judge and get him sanctioned! Er, nicely?
The idea of a character who is very ambitious and a great person, but a little bit of a tough chick on the surface, really intrigued me. And I had the perfect character in Kirby Green, newly-hired exec at the Whips and Lace Co. She’d pretty much stolen every scene she was in in AMERICAN IDLE (Double RITA finalist, how cool is that??). Then I wanted to compare and contrast Kirby with a character who was so nice that she was in danger of becoming a doormat. Brianna sprang to life. My good friend who is an opera singer (no, really!) provided some great background for her. Then I set the two of them loose to play on the pages – each helping the other learn something about life, and about herself. That’s how NICE GIRLS FINISH FIRST was born.
Can we be successful as women today and still retain some of that niceness that was so valued in earlier years? I think so. But nice doesn’t mean dumb, and today’s nice girls DO finish first. They might just have to kick a little ass along the way.
Nicely.
Thanks for helping me celebrate the release of my second novel!! – Alesia Holliday (p.s. This nice girl is frantically polishing some pages due to Hollywood interest – you can see the details at http://www.alesiaholliday.com/blog/)
Check out Alesia's new book! Nice Girls Finish First
