Do You Dream In Movie Mode?

This post is about dreams. No, not "I dream of being a successful writer" but the actual REM sleep cycle type dreams. Everybody dreams, even though I know lots of people who say they don't. You have to dream to survive. It's actually a highly active brain time and dreams are a part of that.

I'm a lucid dreamer, meaning that many times I know when I'm dreaming and can control the outcome of the dream. I've done this ever since I was a kid and thought that everyone was like that until I got older and found out that it's actually uncommon. And most of my dreams (whether lucid or not) are "movie" dreams or story dreams, if you will. That means the dream has a beginning, a middle and an end and follows a story line, even if the story is kind of convoluted sometimes. But most of the time my dreams are really like little mini-movies in my head that star me.

Take last nights dream. I dreamed I was helping a friend (one I haven't seen or spoken to in several years) move to a very little house in a very rural setting (think cornfield in Mayberry). For a small town, the townspeople weren't overly friendly and one of them, "Hank" (who lived in the small farmhouse on the adjoining property) was downright hostile to me. This former friend (whom I shall call "Lizzy" to protect her true identity) had met up with a group of unsavory people and brought them back to the house to party. I just wanted to be left alone to sleep and was mad because they were making such a racket and they had used all of the bottled water I brought and I was thirsty. This house was really tiny, just one bedroom really and there were about thirty people in the house and surrounding yard. I really wanted a drink of water and as I poured the very last of the bottle into my glass, some random girl topped the glass of with what appeared to be Scotch. I was angry but so thirsty that I drank it anyway (Don't ask why I didn't just drink tap water, it was a dream and sometimes things just don't make sense.) I started to feel sick and there was so much loud noise and commotion that I just wanted to go in the bathroom and throw up and go back to bed but the bathroom was occupied and my bedroom had been taken over. I was feeling terrible, really dizzy and nauseous and I wanted away from all the loud, scary people so I walked to the nearest farmhouse, which was where "Hank" lived.

Now I have to say that "Hank", for all his open hostility towards me and "Lizzy", was really good looking. I mean really, really good looking. Think tanned from working outdoors, muscled from all that farm work, think no shirt because it's hot outside, all the typical farm boy stereotypes. We had only met a few times in town at the store or diner and as I said, he wasn't very friendly. He seemed to resent the 'city girls' who were invading his precious territory. Now trust me when I say that neither "Lizzy" nor I are exactly Paris Hilton and while I will admit that I know nothing about milking cows or tilling fields, I'm not completely clueless. I was pretty resentful of "Hank's" know-it-all superiority yet got the feeling that there was something else there. I suspected that "Hank" was more than he seemed and even thought he might be interested in me (here is where we know it's a dream, people. Even in the remote unlikelihood that some guy is interested in me, I NEVER have a clue when that's the case. I'm oblivious until someone points it out to me later, which really makes me mad because by then it's too late to do anything about it.)

Okay, so I stumble through the cornfields (yes, I know that's a bad idea, I saw "Children of the Corn") to "Hank's" house where he is awake (who wouldn't be with the biker gang party going on in the cornfield next door, I think at this point a death metal band had shown up and was playing). "Hank" was actually nice to me (which was good because I was really sick at this point) and concerned when I explained that I had gotten ill really quickly after drinking the Scotch/water. He made me throw up (always attractive, don't cha think?) and then put me to bed (no, don't go there yet) in a small bedroom on the first floor. I went to sleep right away and only woke up when my cell phone rang. It was "Lizzy", calling to say that she had driven with someone to buy some more alcohol and her car had caught fire and could I please come get her. I was still woozy at this point and was trying to figure out exactly where she was when some man came on the line and told me 'never mind' and hung up. I fell back into a deep sleep and woke up the next morning with sunlight streaming in the window.

When I woke up, "Hank" was nowhere to be found. I looked around the first floor and then went upstairs to check out the second floor. The bedrooms there faced towards the other farmhouses in the area. It was a good view actually and I was surprised that none of the bedrooms seemed to be in use, except for one room that was locked. A peek through the keyhole (hey, old farmhouse, of course there was a giant keyhole) revealed what appeared to be surveillance equipment. Why would a farmer need expensive surveillance equipment and why would he sleep in a tiny room on the first floor when there were several large bedrooms upstairs? I went back downstairs. "Hank" returned just a few minutes later with fresh made doughnuts and hot coffee from the diner in town. (in my dreams apparently I'm not allergic to caffeine). I confronted "Hank" with what I had discovered. He was angry with me for snooping and asked me why I was still there if I thought he was doing something wrong. I told him that even though there was some suspicious stuff going on that I didn't quite understand yet, deep down I felt like I could trust him and that I knew he wouldn't hurt me. He was a bit incredulous at my trust in him when he had been so hostile to me before and I told him it was because when he was being mean to me he always shifted his eyes to the left (a known lying signal) and when he was nice to me he looked me right in the eyes. He was shocked and then (okay guys, sorry, here is when the romance writer in me takes over the dream for a minute) grabs me in his arms and lays down a magnificent kiss. Which I return just as passionately (hey, I ain't dumb, if I can get some, I'll take it). This wild make out session leads to us heading to the little bedroom where I tell him he has to tell me his real name before we make love. (okay, I'm blushing just a bit as I write this, so forgive me, alright?) Again, he's shocked. Why don't I think "Hank" is his real name? Because, I tell him, he is obviously undercover - my guess is DEA or FBI or even possibly ATF - and that he wouldn't use his real name during the investigation. And I refuse to have sex with someone if I don't know their real name. (Apparently I have standards, even in dream land. Not high standards since I don't ask his LAST name, but standards none the less.) He tells me his name is Marcus and we...well, cut to a picture of a fireplace like in the 1960's movies. I can't write the details in my blog, after all this was a, er, um, personal experience, even if it was just a dream.

Okay, after, well, you know, we have breakfast (although it's now afternoon) where I show off my cooking skills by making a huge country style meal. I learn that he is DEA and he has been investigating a huge crystal meth operation in the area. The house "Lizzy" bought was one that had been used to cook meth and some of the 'gang' at the party were part of it too. This made me uneasy and I relayed the weird phone call I had gotten during the night. Marcus said he would check it out and I insisted on going with him (plus I needed fresh clothes although he loaned me a clean t-shirt.) We went to the house, which was trashed, including my car which had the tires slashed and windows broken. I quickly changed clothes and grabbed some stuff to take with me to Marcus' house. There was no sign of "Lizzy" and no answer on her cell when I tried. We asked around town but no one seems to have seen her. We even check out the disreputable bar where she had supposedly gone to buy more booze the night before. Our reception there is chilly and we don't stay long. We do snoop around there a bit and find "Lizzy's" car, hidden under a tarp in a junk heap out back. It had been burned.

Now it's getting dark and we head back to Marcus' farmhouse, where he lets his superiors know that something is going down and "Lizzy" is missing. They tell him they will send support tomorrow and use the information he has already gathered to make arrests. As night begins we hear noises at "Lizzy's" house. We go to the second floor to get a better look and see that there is a lot of activity. Marcus calls for backup as some of the 'gang' heads towards us. Marcus asks me if I know how to use a gun. I tell him that I may be a city girl but my dad taught me to shoot practically before I could walk (this is true, my father was a gun collector and enthusiast. We spent most weekends of my teenage years in the mountains around Las Vegas at black powder shoots where men dress like Grizzly Adams and shoot Civil War and Old West era guns. Yeah, that was fun for a teenage girl, I mean, who wants to hang out at the mall with her friends when she can watch men shoot guns in an area where there are no toilets.) He hands me a gun and an extra clip of ammunition and settles me in a crouch in the corner of the little bedroom and tells me to shoot anyone who comes in who isn't him. He heads to the front of the house and I can hear all kinds of chaos and gunfire. A huge man enters and I shoot him square in the chest. (it wasn't bloody, more like cartoonish) Another man enters and I try to shoot but the gun jams. He is laughing at me and about to shoot me when I cock the gun again and shoot him. I realize the action in the gun is what's jamming so I have to cock it twice to fire (I don't know that this would happen in real life, I'd have to ask my brother who is my resident expert in all things gun related).

Okay, this is where I woke up. Sorry if it was just getting exciting. I can't control everything. My mom says I need to write and ending so we know where "Lizzy" is and how we escape. I might just do that. But back to my original question...do you dream like that? Or am I a psychopath? Not only to I dream like this pretty much every night but I can remember the majority of them as well. I can still recall dreams I had ten or twenty years ago. I admit to a pretty vivid imagination (I could tell you some of the stories my Barbie dolls had to endure, they were soap opera like in their scope and story line.) So I just wondered if anyone else out there has dreams like mine. When you dream, what do you dream about?

Have a nice weekend...and Sweet Dreams!

I Didn't Make The List

So, once again, I didn't make the Forbes 400 list of the richest people in America.

Okay, the price of admission to the list was $1.3 billion dollars and I have like twenty-two dollars and eighty-six cents.

All the usual suspects made the list - Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, everyone in the world related to Sam Walton. Most of the list is old white guys. (Surprise, surprise.) Ten percent of the list is women. Oprah is on it. (Again, surprise, surprise.)

The guy who founded Facebook, Mark Zuckerberg, is on the list, he's worth $1.5 billion. Oh, and he's twenty four. Yeah. Twenty-four. When I was twenty-four the sum total of my assets was a crappy Ford Tempo and whatever change I could find on the floor and in the seats of the said Ford Tempo. This guy can buy a small country and I had trouble finding enough cash to buy two tacos at Jack In The Box.

Sheldon Adelson lost almost half of his fortune this year and that would make me sad if he didn't still have a net worth of $15 billion dollars. So forgive me, Shelly, if I don't cry too much for you.

I guess what upsets me the most about this list (besides not being on it) is that it represents a kind of wealth that we normal people can't understand. Or at least I can't, maybe you're different. I wouldn't know what it's like to not think about the cost of things. I buy marked down produce and shop the clearance racks at Ross. My mom works at a day-old bread store. That's the reality of my life and it's okay, I'm used to it. But these guys have more money than most people could ever even dream about. I can't fathom money in the billions. A million is still a whole lot of dough to me, and these people have thousands of millions.

Sure, I can imagine of what it might be like to be one of the mega-rich. But I'd still be looking at the prices on the menu and thinking that two tacos are only ninety-nine cents and that 'poulet a la valee d'auge' is really just roast chicken anyway and how can they charge so much for it? Why would I spend six figures on an Hermes Birkin Bag when that's more money than I spent on college? The twenty dollar purse from Target holds my wallet and cell phone just fine. And private jets are not exactly eco-friendly.

Who wouldn't want to be rich? Nobody I know. It would be lovely to give generously to charity and eat and shop wherever you want. To go on vacations that don't require coupons and online discount hotels. But my life is grounded in reality and I'll never be a part of that world. Foe me, I'd settle for not worrying about where car repair money is going to come from. Think that Facebook guy would give it to me?

It's Brick Morgan!

The much anticipated trailer for Brick Morgan is finally here! And the Smidgits are the only ones to bring it to you!




This movie was a long time in the making, and has been a journey from concept to completion. So we hope you enjoy!

Wild Weekend and The Walking Woman

Okay, it was a long (but nice) weekend. Above is a picture of the birthday girl (aka Mom) on the left with The Graminator, my Aunt Leslie and my Uncle Stuart. She was surprised and touched that they came in to see her.

After her surprise on Wednesday, her siblings took her to Mt. Charleston for lunch on her actual birthday, then everyone came over for a huge Chinese banquet (we are gonna be eating leftovers for a week!) and banana cupcakes.

Friday, we went to Buca de Beppo for a family dinner (thanks again to Kelly for gramma-sitting, my mom was so touched by his generosity that she cried). Buca is a chain restaurant that serves Italian food, family style, and we got the 'kitchen table' where we proceeded to consume far too much food and some delicious red wine courtesy of my Uncle. If you ever go to dinner with my Uncle Stuart and he orders red wine, drink it, even if you aren't a red wine fan. He picks GREAT wine. Too much food, wine and fun led to some loud and raucous discussions, including politics, and arguing politics with my uncle is a lot like being on The McLaughlin Group. Seriously, I've been in debate tournaments that didn't need as much planning as a discussion with Stuart...but it was still fun and "I lub you" too, Uncle Stuart.

Unfortunately, my uncle's girlfriend, Roberta, had a really bad pinched nerve and they had to go home to California earlier than planned and they left on Saturday. So they dropped my Aunt Leslie off at our house and we just sat around all day talking and eating leftovers (which now included Italian food in addition to the grilled pork from Wednesday and the Chinese from Thursday) and watched the movie "21". I do not recommend this movie, not that it was bad, just that it was so unrealistic (which is strange because it was very loosely based on a true story) plus it committed the unforgivable sin of making a bunch of Vegas inaccuracies. (If you get a suite at the Hard Rock hotel and look out the window, there is NO WAY to see the fountains at Bellagio from that view. Even if the hotel wasn't more than a mile away and not even on the Strip, it faces the OPPOSITE direction!!!!!!! Augh!)

Sunday Will came over (Val had to grade papers) and we all went to lunch (yes, all, even the Graminator) to Salt Lick BBQ at Red Rock Station. It was delicious and fun (thanks for lunch Aunt Leslie!) and way too much food (so add BBQ to the leftovers in my fridge.) We also played with the new Wii Fit I bought. It's much harder than I thought, but it seems like it will make working out fun so we will see how it goes. My aunt bought me a sweater (thanks for the present Aunt Leslie!) and we had a nice visit. She's flying back to Florida this morning.

Now for the Wild One. The Graminator is walking. She got a new walker on Friday and the physical therapist had her walk around the kitchen. She needed very little guidance walking, mostly someone to stand behind her just in case she has balance issues. But once she started walking, the floodgates opened. She needs some kind of support to stand up, but once she's up, she's off and running. On Saturday she got herself out of bed and stripped herself naked and made it to the bathroom before we heard her. Unfortunately she's just not ready for that yet (hence the commode chair) but we learned to put her walker across the room. This morning she was up and heading to her room before I caught her (again, my fault for leaving the walker within reach.) I went from having a big baby that I had to do everything for to having a toddler that I have to watch every second of the day. Fortunately she still tires easily so I just make her walk laps around the kitchen to wear her out. She has a doctor's appointment today so I'll be asking questions about helping her appetite and getting her bed sore finally healed. But I think it is safe to say that The Graminator is on the way to a full (and speedier than we anticipated) recovery. The hard part now will be keeping her from pushing too much. Her mental state is just not quite enough to leave her alone yet so I'll still be home bound for a while yet.

Okay, I have to go now. Novel to write, Gramma to watch, leftovers to eat. So much to do, so little time!

Happy Birthday to My Hero, My Mom

Yes, her birthday really is 9/11. But even more important than the anniversary of the attacks is the birth of my mother and a special anniversary in her life.

My mother is truly my best friend. She is my mother by choice, a long road that I have written about before. She has always been there for me and supported me and tried to raise me right. She has taught me so much in life, things practical and things abstract and she never asks for anything in return. She even let me move home to pursue my dream and she was a major contributor to my first film (hence her Executive Producer status on IMDB!) Sorry I don't have a picture of her, but I'll try to get a good one this weekend.

Today is her 60th birthday (which she'd rather everyone not know but since she looks like a little kid, no one's going to believe it anyway) and it is the 5th anniversary of her remission from cancer. There was a time five years ago when I was scared that I might lose her. I don't know the actual date of when we got the official word 'remission' is, I think it's actually sometime in January but I mark it on her birthday because that was the date of her last horrible round of chemo. I made a banana cake to take to both celebrate her birthday and to thank the incredible nurses who saved my mother's life. My mother has an oncogene called Her2/neu that basically replicates cancer cells like a Xerox machine and they treated it as aggressively as they possibly could. And she had every possible side effect you could ever get. Honestly, getting her through the chemotherapy without killing her seemed an impossible task at the time. But she did it, and then radiation and now she's cancer free (yes, I knocked on wood, I'm not taking any chances!)

Yesterday my Aunt Leslie flew in from Florida and my Uncle Stuart and his girlfriend Roberta drove in from California to surprise her for her birthday. Boy was she surprised. I was afraid she might be mad at me for planning this but since I can't give her all that she deserves, I at least wanted her to know how much she is loved. So today they are taking her to lunch and tonight we'll have Chinese takeout (and I think some banana cupcakes) with everyone including Will and Val and tomorrow I have a 'grandma-sitter' (my friend Kelly, who ROCKS for helping us out, what a guy, thanks Kelly) and we are all going out to dinner. I arranged with her boss for her to have the weekend off so I don't know what they will do but I'm sure her siblings will take her to do fun stuff. She deserves to be treated like the queen she is.

My father made the greatest decision of his, and my, life when he married my mother. She is the most incredible person I know and I'm lucky to be her daughter.

Happy Birthday Mommy! I love you.

Just Smart Enough To Know I'm Not Smart Enough

I'm not dumb, I know that. But I'm not as smart as I'd like to be. I realize that on days like today, when scientists are pushing the boundaries of knowledge, to understand the creation of all that is.

They built this huge circular thingamajig that smashes particles to bits like a fifteen car pileup on the 95. From this, they hope to discover what started the universe, namely The Big Bang, by recreating a little bang. That's about as much of the story as I can really grasp. There are a lot of big words involved like Hadron Collider, smuans, quarks and Higgs Boson. I have no idea what any of those mean. I wish I did.

I'd love to understand more about particle physics and quantum mechanics and string theory. But I don't. I need someone to explain it to me like I was a short bus riding third grader. I can tell you who got kicked off Big Brother last night but that isn't exactly going to explain the origin of man. (The de-evolution of man, maybe.)

So in Europe, a whole bunch of scientists are high-fiving each other because they got a proton, which I can't even see, to race around this tube with all these magnets and gizmos and whatchamacallits recording every bit of data they can think of so they can explain what made everything everything. And I feel stupid. I got A's in all my science classes in high school and college - okay, except sophomore Biology, I got a B, but I was being harassed by imbecilic teenage boys who kept putting dissected frog parts in my purse.

I want to understand what all the fuss is about. Maybe I can get a book... d'ya think they make "Particle Physics for Dummies"?

Talk Show Rules

Okay, I learned a lot from watching the premiere of The Bonnie Hunt Show yesterday. It looks like it has the potential to be a great show and really a lot of fun. She's definitely paying homage to some of the great shows of old like The Dean Martin Show, The Mike Douglas Show and others. It may take her a while to segue into a better host than guest but I think she's on the right path as long as she focuses on entertainment. But she has to follow some rules...

Rule #1
If you have Robin Williams on as a guest, don't do anything but wind him up and let him go. He was like an ADHD kid on pixie sticks. Hysterically funny. ("What's the French version of "Anne Frank"? She's upstairs!") But Bonnie kept trying to throw in a zinger of her own now and then and he totally stomped on her lines, talked over her and was pretty Robin Williams like. As the host, you need to know when to talk to draw your guests out more, but if they don't need drawing out then just lay back and let them do their thing.

Rule #2
See rule #1. Joe Mantegna "surprised" her by showing up with a heart shaped pizza. (Okay, does anyone really buy that she's surprised. The guy had enough sandwiches for a studio audience and had to get past security for cryin' out loud, no body thinks he 'just dropped by'. Pu-leez). Now Joe might have been an interesting interview but we'll never know because Robin was still in a manic phase and walked all over whatever Joe might have been saying. Wait until Robin is gone, preferably escorted off set by several large security guards, before you let the next guest come out. (Side note, I think it would be weird to be married to Robin. Aside from being only slightly less hairy than Sasquatch, he has to just go catatonic at some point after all that manic energy.)

Rule #3
If you are going to do the "kids say the funniest things" bit, please keep them to less than three minutes. After that, it wears a bit thin. Same rule applies to all family members and pets.

I think this show is going to be awesome, as soon as Bonnie hits her stride. Anyone who liked "Life with Bonnie" will like this show, as it's just a version of the 'show within a show'. Holly Wortell is even on, I'm not sure what character she's playing but I expect to see her evolve too. Check your local listing for channel and show times.

Happy Birthday Will!

Today is my brother's birthday. I just want to acknowledge what an amazing brother and incredible person he is. He is younger than I am, but I have graciously decided to let him get to the age of forty before me.

Will was, of course, my arch rival for the front seat growing up, and a pesky little brother the rest of the time. I also remember this awful smell coming from his room, which got way worse when his friends joined him. I used to hold my nose as I ran past his room. He wore a KISS t-shirt for what seems like forever when he was a kid and only stopped wearing it when they had to cut it off him when he dislocated his shoulder. He got a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and a brown belt in White Tiger when he was younger, at which point I stopped beating up on him because I knew he could kick my ass.

After my father died, Will became my second best friend (my mom is my BF). We have gone through a lot together, some really tough times and a few happy ones. He has become a truly wonderful man, compassionate, caring, and he really puts his family first in his life. I am so happy he met Val, and happier still that he was smart enough to ask her to marry him so that she becomes a part of our family too. I'm even more ecstatic that Val doesn't mind spending time with us or letting Will spend time with us. She's a great sister and a welcome addition to the family.

Will is truly a product of my parents. He's as smart and interesting as my father, with a bit of his temper to boot. He's as kind and caring as my mother. I'd like to think some of my influence is in there too, as he has influenced my life. He's been incredibly supportive of my sabbatical and my film making and he is always there for me, whatever I need. He also helps me save thousands of dollars at the mechanic because he knows way more about cars than I do. ("No Shae, tell the mechanic you don't need a new picture tube for the car. Yes, I'm sure. Cars don't have picture tubes. Yes, I'm sure.")

Some of my favorite memories in this world involve my brother. Us, walking down the streets of New York City, me periodically jumping up and down, clutching his arm, screaming "I won $64,000!", him patiently smiling at me, saying "I know". Him, pulling himself out of bed because I wanted to see the midnight buffet on the cruise ship, even though he was tired and not at all hungry. Him and I, eating Dole Whip at Disneyland. Him, holding my hand, when our mother went into surgery.



I wish I could give my family all of their dreams and desires. Instead, I gave my brother a couple of books and made him a batch of Key West Cupcakes. (Vanilla cake, key lime curd filling, this delicious creamy frosting and a sprinkle of graham cracker crumbs. Plus I made a gum paste sand dollar for decoration.) But if I could give him the moon and the stars, I would.

Happy Birthday Will. You are a great brother and friend, and I love you.

The Writing

I once had a French teacher who told me that once you start dreaming in French, you'll know that you are mastering the language. I never dreamed in French (unless you count the occasional dream starring Gerard Depardieu) or any language other than English but I do dream my writing.

Last night I had dreams about Vegas Shmegas, which begins principal photography November first so there is still a lot of pre-production stuff to be accomplished. I also dreamed about my novel, which is as yet untitled so I'm calling it "Shelby 1" (and hoping that someday there is a "Shelby 2"). Obviously both projects are heavily in my mind, which is a nice distraction from all the other stuff going on.

The writing on this is going well, much better than I had expected. It's written in first person (like the Stephanie Plum novels) and I've heard that's typical in 'chick lit' - so you were right Dyann! (Hmmm, do they call novels written about and by guys "dick lit"?) The thing is, because it's written from Shelby's perspective, I'm hearing her voice in my head constantly.

For my fellow writers, a question please. Do your characters speak to you? I mean literally. Mine do. Oh, I know, it's just my brain, working out the logistics and story, but my characters actually say and do things I didn't expect. Shelby speaks Chinese, did you know that? I didn't, at least not until she told me. She speaks several languages actually and it's in a unique way that she learned each of them. Of course, this may present a problem as I don't speak a foreign language so there's more research I need to do. Thanks a lot, Shel.

There is a character in "Arnie Johnson's Big Break" who has a twist at the end that I didn't see coming. Shocked me. But it was perfect and got me out of a writing corner, so to speak. I had been fussing and worrying about how to resolve the situation when the character stepped forward and revealed the situation. It was a relief and a surprise.

So the writing goes on. If you see me mumbling to myself while I walk through the grocery store, I'm not crazy, just talking to Shelby. Oh, and ladies, Evan is way hotter than I ever imagined. Whew. You're gonna love their love story! I'm blushing just thinking about it. Shelby isn't some stick thin supermodel (few couch potatoes are) and Evan likes curvy girls. (Of course, it doesn't hurt that Shelby's curves are in the right places whereas mine seem to be more like an abstract painting.) Evan is the perfect guy, so of course he's fiction. I'M KIDDING, I know there are great guys out there, it's just that they're already taken. But if you know one that isn't, send him my way. I could use the 'practice' for my love scenes!

I've Created A Monster

In the continuing saga of The Graminator, we are following the whirlwind "Jeckyll and Hyde" effect.

Last Thursday and Friday she was doing pretty well, eating and exercising as directed. Then Saturday, no food. "I just have no appetite" was her constant refrain, along with begging to go back to bed. Sunday was a little better, then Monday, more whining, no eating. Same on Tuesday. She was complaining of a lot of pain and the Tylenol wasn't cutting it so we decided to giver he some Percocet on Wednesday. We just gave her a half a pill in the morning (so she wouldn't be in pain during physical therapy) and another half in the late afternoon so she would feel well enough to sit up a while. She still wouldn't eat, although she swore to me that she had eaten plenty. (One bite of toast, one bite of sausage link for breakfast, one bite of meat and one prune for lunch, she's consuming less calories than my chihuahua). So I went to GNC to buy some weight gainer formula. We've been giving her Ensure to give her some calories but we needed to get even more calories and protein in her.

Okay, the look on the guy's face when I told him I wanted to buy weight gainer was priceless. But he was really helpful (and good looking but honestly, not the brightest bulb on the string). This stuff has like seven hundred calories and fifty grams of protein if you mix it with water but I'm mixing it with Ensure, ice cream and half and half so it has like a zillion now. Of course I'm not giving her a full serving at every meal but breaking it up over three meals but at least now I think she's getting enough calories to survive and enough protein to start healing her bed sore.

She was not so awake during physical therapy but her therapist said she was doing a lot better and her balance is improving and she is pulling more of her own weight (which my back can attest to, thank goodness). She still didn't want to eat dinner but I made her drink a 'super shake' and she stayed up a little later than she had been.

But as we know, the night time brings out Mr. Hyde. So when my mom woke me up at four in the morning I knew it couldn't be good news. (What news is ever good at four a.m.? No one ever calls to tell you that you won a million dollars at that time, only bad stuff.) Grandma had somehow managed to get herself out of bed, walk down the hallway to the living room and ended up lying on the floor. She even pulled pillows and a blanket off the couch. My mom slept through the whole thing and wouldn't have even found her if she hadn't had to make a late night bathroom run and noticed Grandma wasn't in bed. Grandma didn't appear hurt, just confused as to why she was on the floor. So we got her back in bed. (When we told her it was four in the morning she asked "Well why was I out of bed?" Good question.) Of course I couldn't go back to sleep which makes the second night this week I have gotten very little beauty sleep (and trust me, I need my beauty sleep!)

We put a bed rail up on the side of The Graminator's bed, but she shimmied out the end of the bed, which we had blocked off with her wheelchair and walker. We also thought the pain would remind her to stay in bed. Apparently the pain pills worked a little too well and so I put another rail on the end of the bed. The next move, I think, will be a series of bungee cords, so that if she wants to get out of bed she's gonna have to have the moves of Catherine Zeta-Jones in Entrapment. I don't want to use actual restraints but we can't have her getting out of bed and falling again and re-injuring herself. Percocet may have helped the pain but it's interfering with her memory and safety. But we don't want her back to the whining, constantly in pain woman either. It's such a tough line to walk, especially when someone doesn't have the mental capacity to understand the danger. So today we'll cut it back to a quarter of a tablet and see how that goes.

Oh, to have all of this resolved, so I can rest easy knowing she's resting easy. I feel like such a nag, constantly harping on her to eat, trying to get her well, then scared that when she's well she's gonna turn into Gramma Knievel. Every day is a new adventure.

Trying New Things

The "Year of Writing Dangerously" is supposed to be about more than just writing. This sabbatical is also supposed to be about learning new things, pursuing some entrepreneurial ideas, social networking, etc. So in that vein, I have decided to try to learn to play the guitar.

My brother bought an electric guitar a few years ago to try to learn. Mostly it's just been gathering dust in his old room. So I asked him if I could borrow it for a while, to mess around and see if I could learn enough to fake a couple of songs. He said sure and loaned me the guitar, amp, books and all the accessories. (Including headphones so I don't have to torture anyone but myself.)

You have to understand that I believe somewhere inside of me is a prodigy. A prodigy doing what, we may never know, hence the constant exploration. (You can still be a prodigy in your thirties, can't you?) I love art but can't draw a stick figure to save my life. Painting watercolors is a secret desire but the lack of artistic talent keeps holding me back, drat it. Music is the same way. I would love, love, LOVE to play an instrument but lack a fundamental, oh, say, musical ability.

Oh, I've tried to be a musician. I loved playing the Flute-a-Phone in elementary school. I wasn't good at it, possibly because it required hand-eye coordination. (Hence the reason I'm also not a good athlete.) And the ability to read music is almost completely beyond me, much like trigonometry - which I passed with a B, thank you, and then promptly pushed out of my brain so that I would have room to remember things like "What was the name of the family Charles worked for on the first season of Charles in Charge?" (Answer: Pembroke, the Powell's came later when the show moved to syndication.) Reading music is like a foreign language that you must learn by the age of two to fully understand, I think. I once dated a bass player who tried to explain the 'circle of fifths' or something like that and I thought he had been taken over by pod people. He was speaking gibberish, and I secretly think he made it all up.

I tried the keyboard a couple of times. We never had a piano but my parents bought one of those little Casio keyboards for us kids in the 80's and I fooled around with it a bunch. I bought a larger keyboard later thinking I would teach myself to play piano and learned to play two Christmas carols then promptly set the keyboard in a corner and then forgot about it completely. I have a sneaking suspicion that the only instruments I can really "play" are peripheral percussion instruments like the shaker, the cowbell and the triangle. I'd add the tambourine but that may be too technically advanced for me.

So now I embark on a journey of guitar. Who knows where it will lead. I have never even played "Guitar Hero" so I maybe brilliant at it, a genius talent waiting to break free. Soon I may be touring with a rock bank, with roadies doing all the heavy lifting for me and groupies just waiting for their chance to spend time in my presence. It'll be cool to retire and just play Vegas. Or, perhaps, this guitar will just sit in my room, waiting to be covered in new dust, as I become frustrated once again with my complete and utter lack of talent. Only time will tell.

I Am So Not A Blonde

Okay, so the saying goes, Blonde's have more fun. But I'm a pale girl of Irish descent with pink skin undertones. So I color my naturally dark brown hair to auburn. And it looks good on me, it's the color I should have been born with. My paternal Grandmother used to use a henna rinse on her hair to bring out the red and The Graminator was a natural redhead (think Katherine Helmond) so it runs in my family.

Yesterday I went to get my hair done because I was tired of pulling it back in a ponytail every day. So I got a cute new cut and the stylist suggested highlights just in the front. I said okay and she told me she was going blonde but the area was just right in front and with the cut it would frame my face nicely. Now I had highlights that were too blonde before and ended up making it look like frosted hair, which I hate (sorry to those of you with frosted hair but it's not a good look on me.) But since these weren't all over highlights I wasn't too worried.


Did you ever see the X-Men Movies? Do you know the character Rogue, played by Anna Paquin? Where the evil guy tries to harness her power and she gets these two white steaks in her hair? Now picture that on a redhead only the streaks are yellow gold. Yup, that's what I look like, like someone tried to harness my power. No, I did not cry, because I have to dye my hair this week anyway to get rid of my roots and I'll just put color over the blond to give me coppery highlights and I think It will be really cute. But blonde? No way. I just can't pull it off, even in a small amount. But the highlights are going to be cool when they are red and even the blonde is growing on me a little (I like the drama of it, just not the color.)

Women are constantly obsessing over and changing their hair. I hate my too thick hair, my mother hates her way too thin baby fine hair, my sister-in-law-to-be changes her color every few months, The Graminator wants hers cut off to boy short length, if it's straight we want curly, if it's curly we will spend hours straightening it. We are rarely happy with our and when we are, that style goes completely out of fashion. It's a never ending struggle. But the good thing about hair? It'll always grow out to almost exactly what we started with in the first place!

Happy Labor Day

I hope you all are enjoying a safe and happy Labor Day.

When I was a kid, Labor Day to me meant no school and I spent the weekend with my Grandma Wilhite and we watched the Jerry Lewis MDA Labor Day Telethon. She let me make a small donation every year and once (since the telethon was broadcast from Las Vegas until the mid-1990's) we even got to go and see the Telethon live. I loved my Grandma Wilhite (who passed on in 1995 at the age of 91) and I loved staying at her house. Of course, it didn't hurt that she spoiled me rotten. But I loved that Labor Day tradition and though I rarely watch the telethon any more, I still associate my best Labor Day memories with her.

As an adult I came to appreciate Labor Day for what it is supposed to represent, the celebration of the working man and the various labor organizations that began it. My father was a union steelworker for most of my life and I was worked as a union grocery clerk to put myself through school. You can say whatever you like about labor unions but we as Americans owe most of the industrial revolution in this country to unions and their members. And I owe my very survival to unions because without them my father wouldn't have been able to support us (and let my mother stay home with us kids.) Unions today may not have the same power, prestige and impact but I thank the men and women who fought and sacrificed for fair wages, benefits and working conditions. I, and this country, owe you a debt of gratitude.

Labor Day to you may mean parades or picnics or just the end of summer. (Which, frankly, growing up in Las Vegas I never understood since it will still be in the 100 degree range for another four weeks or more.) But whatever Labor Day means to you and your family, I hope yours is filled with love, peace and prosperity.

He May Be An Old Guy, But He's a Smart Old Guy

Okay, the suspense is over and John McCain is going to pick Alaska Governor Sarah Palin as his running mate. Brilliant I say, just brilliant.

I'll say it now, as I've said before, if Barack Obama had chosen Hillary Clinton as his running mate, I think he would have won the election, no contest. Their competition for the Democratic nomination really split the part into two factions. By uniting those factions I think they would have had an unstoppable force. But he picked a really boring white guy who has run unsuccessfully for president himself, twice. I think it was a poor choice. I know, I know, balance the ticket, shore up Barack's weaknesses, blah blah. Poor choice, that's all I'm saying.

On the other hand, McCain picking a woman, is really smart. Not just because the Republicans are so behind the times (which they are, sorry) but because all of those disenfranchised Democrats can now justify voting for McCain. Many Hillary supporters can feel better voting for McCain and I think they will jump ship.


Sarah Palin is an interesting choice. Mother of five, including one baby with special needs, reformer and renegade to her own party, former Mayor in and now Governor of Alaska, a state that most of us don't even think of as a real state. I know, beautiful, full of wonderful natural resources and most importantly, in my opinion, way more guys than girls (hmm, maybe I should move to Alaska...nope, too cold.) But it's really more like Canada than the rest of the U.S. Still, I think Sarah is a good choice since she has experience actually running a government (granted again, it's Alaska). Plus she has that 'hot librarian' thing going for her. You know what I mean. She has the bun and glasses but looks like she could whip them off at any moment and start dancing to Van Halen's "I'm Hot For Teacher".

I honestly don't know who I'm voting for this election. As most of you know, I was a John Edwards supporter and still would be if he wasn't an ass@%# who slept around on his cancer stricken wife. Ugh. Sometimes men disgust me. Seriously, gentlemen, why would you risk your career, your family, your reputation and possibly the presidency of the United States just on getting some? I mean it, explain it to me, because I just don't get it.

Anyway, I have a lot of thinking to do because I can see great strengths and major weaknesses in both candidates. I want this country to be better off in four years than it is now. It's up to me (and you) to help that happen. Let's have a clean fight, no hitting below the belt and how about some real answers to some serious problems.

DMV

Okay, I had to go to the DMV this morning since my car registration is due in a few days and my drivers license was set to expire on my birthday next month. So I decided to get all the yucky stuff over at once.

So why does Las Vegas, with a population of over two million people, only have three DMV locations? There was one not too far from my house and they closed it to open a new one about ten miles further away. Why not have BOTH locations? Seriously, why not? Yes, I know, I could have renewed my car via the Internet but after last year's debacle (I had a valid, legal registration but the sticker hadn't come in the mail yet and I got a ticket for it PARKED IN FRONT OF MY OWN HOUSE!!!! It cost me twenty-five bucks. Augh! Since I needed to do an address change (yes, I moved a year ago, oops) and I had already renewed my license by mail four years ago so I had to go in in person this time. Not only was the new DMV location further away, but the MapQuest directions were wrong. But I found it, finally.

Why are drivers license pictures so awful? They are digital pictures so I think they should have to show them to you and you get at least one do-over. They charge you $2.25 for the 'digitized photo' (hmmm, they never charged extra for the 'real' photo before) so I think you should have a say in the matter. I had a relatively cute picture on my last license (hence why I renewed by mail last time) and this time I look like a mentally challenged homeless person. I'm not joking. I'm usually okay photogenically but every now and then I take a picture that totally makes me look like a short bus rider. In this picture I look like I may have Down Syndrome. I'm not making any judgments, I'm just saying that those with Down Syndrome have distinctive features and I look like I may have that particular chromosomal anomaly on my license photograph.

The new DMV is huge but still very industrial. Most government buildings are nice, some are really nice, but DVM offices often feel more like correctional facilities. Why, if you are going to order a bunch of new chairs for a building where people are going to wait, sometimes for hours, do you choose the ugliest, most uncomfortable chairs ever? Is there some government employee who personally tests the chairs to make sure they aren't the slightest bit comfortable? Does that guy get fired if someone actually can sit in a DMV chair for more than two minutes without needing a chiropractic adjustment? It's amazing to me that they can find chairs that no one can feel good sitting in, whether they are tall, short, skinny, fat, whatever, everyone is uncomfortable. Yes, I can definitely see how keeping people waiting a really long time in very uncomfortable chairs for a task that no one wanted to do in the first place is a good strategy. The only thing that could make it worse would be some surly, unhelpful employees. Oh, wait, they covered that too.

To be fair, not every DMV employee is unpleasant. The man at the information desk was nice. The system in Las Vegas is that you have to wait in a really long line to get to the information counter where you explain to the employee why you are there, then he or she gives you a number and you go wait in an uncomfortable chair trying to decipher if G060 comes before or after L089 (because the normal letter/number order does not seem to apply) and then you explain it to another employee all over again. The lady next to me at the information counter actually asked the counter man if he remembered her. Sure, out of the one or two thousand people per day he sees, he's gonna remember you. (Just a note, she looked like a normal, average person. If she had gigantic boobs or some glaringly hideous feature, maybe, just maybe, he might think you look vaguely familiar. But a regular Joe or Jane? Forget it.)

The best part of the DMV? When you drive away. knowing you won't have to go back for at least four years, maybe eight if I'm lucky. Of course, that's if no one steals my license plates again.

You've Been Waiting...And Here It Is!

Okay, you've all been waiting (with baited breath, I'm sure!) for the 'back of the book' synopsis of my current work in progress. So here it is. Would reading this on the back cover make you want to buy the novel?

" Shelby Truitt's life was pretty dull. Running the Book Nook at the mall during the day and watching television with her dog at night, the most excitement Shelby got in her life was when the latest Netflix movie arrived. But ever since hunky author Evan Fielding came to sign copies of his bestselling spy novel at her bookstore, Shelby's seen a murder, a bomb and not one, but two dead guys! Now Evan's in trouble and Russian secret agents are more than mall security can handle. So it's up to Shelby, armed with nothing more than MacGyver reruns and the complete James Bond boxed set, to save the day."

Okay, now you've gotten a glimpse of my latest baby. Critique away. And thanks for being so patient!

My Friend Bonnie

In my never ending quest to promote the things and people I love, today we are going to talk about my 'friend' Bonnie Hunt.

Yes, I used the showbiz term friend. I've actually never met Bonnie but I feel like we have known each other for years. You know her, too. Sure you do. If you've seen a movie in the last fifteen years, you've seen Bonnie. She plays a lot of supporting rolls and she does it well. She played Tom Hanks' wife in The Green Mile, Renee Zellweger's sister in Jerry Macguire, the mom in the Cheaper by the Dozen movies with Steve Martin (which bear no resemblance to the beloved novel of the same name but that's a different story.)

I love Bonnie because she is fresh and funny. But she isn't some over the top caricature. She's warm and real and you feel like she's that funny older sister you could tell all of your secrets to. I first saw her in the very funny but very short lived television series "Grand". Since then I've followed her through a variety of television series' (including the Emmy nominated but also short lived "Life With Bonnie", where the 'Smellgaway' leather couch will be forever one of my favorite bits of all time) and movies. She's on of the few actors around that I'd follow anywhere. Talented and smart and she surrounds herself with other talented and smart people. Wait, why haven't I met her yet?

Bonnie co-wrote, directed and starred in my favorite romantic comedy of all time, Return to Me. If you are a romantic comedy fan and you haven't seen this film, you need to run, RUN, to your video store and rent it. It is a fantastic film, sweet, funny, romantic and beautiful. It tugs at your heartstrings but in a natural, easy way. David Duchovny and Minnie Driver are awesome, and Carol O'Connor made me wish he was my Grandpa. Great supporting cast, including the beautiful city of Chicago and one of the coolest soundtracks around, featuring Joey Gian (former Star Search winner and frequent Las Vegas performer.)

Okay, I feel an affinity for Bonnie because we share the same birthday (but Bonnie is older, sorry Bonnie) and because she has done so many things that I'm envious of. But I support her in all her endeavors because she strikes me as a person who works very hard for what she has accomplished. She also used to be an oncology nurse and I figure that makes her just short of 'angel' in my book.

Bonnie has a new talk show premiering September 8th (my brother Will's birthday). It looks like it's going to be fabulous (after all this is the woman who has been called the "best talk show guest" so she knows how to give good interview.) Plus she's so real and honest that I'm sure she'll bring out the best in whomever she's interviewing. Check out this promo for her show.



The Bonnie Hunt Show will run in syndication so check here for your local station and showtime. I'm so glad that there is going to be something on besides Judge shows and Dr. Phil. Thank God for Bonnie, it'll get the bad taste of Rachel Ray out of my mouth.

Okay, end of shameless shilling for one of my favorite talents. Give the show a chance to shine and rent Return to Me. I think I'll watch it again this afternoon!

I've Been Adopted

It seems as though I have been adopted...or at least my garden has. In addition to the praying mantis' that inhabit my mint patch, I now have a garden cat. She has been living under my basil plant for a week or so. She mews like crazy, loves to be petted, is incredibly friendly and tolerates my dog. I have nicknamed her Lavender since that is the plant she is laying on. We have decided that she likes my garden because it is shady and cool. I am allergic to cats but as long as she stays outside it doesn't seem to bother me and I wash my hands after I pet her. If anyone is looking for a very nice cat, I'd be happy to get her a better home. Otherwise I'll let her live in my garden. Hey, some people have garden gnomes, I have a garden cat.

Thanks and Thanks

Thanks to all who have expressed such compassion and support to me an my family. Just a quick update after The Graminator's first day home. After listening to the naysayers who told us how hard it was and how much care she was going to need, I was really (and pleasantly) surprised at how well she did. Yes, she complained about the pain and she wanted to stay in bed but I got her up three times (which is two times more than she ever did at the rehab facility) for an hour or more each time and she ate and used the new commode chair. In all, it as a great day and I have every reason to believe it will get easier the more time she is at home.

Thanks again for your support, it means so much to me right now!

She's Back

Well, for better or worse, The Graminator is home.

After Monday's nightmare in the ER and a really confused day on Tuesday, we were told we could take her home on Wednesday. We got to the hospital a little before ten in the morning. We got home at nine thirty at night. Yes, another long hellish day.

The physical therapist and the occupational therapist came to evaluate her. After several days of pneumonia and complete bed rest, she was naturally quite weak. But she was alert most of the day, ate really well and (forgive the gross) had several BM's so I was pretty confident that she should come home. The physical therapist (a hippie type George Carlin wannabe) was adamant that she should go to rehabilitation for a week. I was so mad. Two and a half weeks in a rehabilitation facility and she was back in the hospital, worse than before. So I went to the doctor and laid out my argument that we could (with home health care) take care of her at home better than the rehab hospital could. Fortunately the doctor agreed that home is a better place for someone with Alzheimer's and told the therapist where to stick it. (Okay, he was nicer than that, but I was really glad the doctor backed me instead of the PT). So after that (and six more hours of waiting for discharge) we got her home.

It's not ideal, I'll give you that. I've never had children because diaper duty never appealed to me, but now I have to deal with the diapers of a full grown woman. Uck. I'm not sure how I'll get through it, but I will. She is weak and complaining a bit but I'm going to be Nurse Ratchet and make her do what she needs to do, not what she wants to do. The home health agency is going to come by this morning and evaluate what assistance we need. I'll get some supplies at the medical supply store. And we will do the best we can. I want to have a big breakdown but now is not the time. I feel like I'm the one making all the decisions and then everyone is unhappy with me for making them (anyone who knows my 'people-pleasing' complex will understand how incredibly difficult that situation is for me). Honestly, last night I felt like running away from home, but where would I go? With my current unemployed writer status my finances are too tight to run away.

So, I'll get through it. I left a lot of this stuff to my mom when my paternal grandmother was in this situation and now it's time for me to pay it back. I may start drinking more. A lot more. Anyone with an extra supply of Valium, call me.

Rating the Hospitals

Thanks for all the love and support during this trying time with The Graminator. Honestly, if you had asked me on Monday I would have said the situation was very grim indeed but I am far more optimistic now. She was awake and alert and aware yesterday and is getting excellent care. Her blood pressure was really low and so they are giving her some IV fluids and tons of antibiotics for her pneumonia. She was confused (even without the Alzheimer's, four hospitals in three weeks can do that) but handled it pretty well except when she got sad when we left last night. She is even eating (although not very much, probably only a few hundred calories) but she's keeping it down so I have my fingers crossed that we are over that particular hurdle.

The hospital she is in now, Desert Springs, is very nice. She's in a private room (shh, don't tell her insurance company) on the third floor and she has a view of the Strip that any Vegas hotel would charge a whole lot extra for. They have a really nice gift shop where we found a lounge outfit for her that is so her style and they have See's candy. See's (for those of you on the East Coast) is a wonderful candy maker and my Gran has been known to eat a one pound box in two days. She wasn't very interested yesterday so I know she still isn't feeling well but I'll keep it close hoping to stimulate her appetite.

The cafeteria at the hospital looked slightly better than at Valley (that's definitely damning it with faint praise) but we didn't eat there because it is run by an apparent cousin of the Soup Nazi. We got there at 1:59 and they stop serving at 2:00. The food was still there, in warming trays, but the man behind the counter said "No more food" and started pulling the full trays of food out. That left our choices with a sad looking salad bar and some hot dogs on a rotating grill that had been rotating quite a while apparently. Fortunately this hospital is close to many restaurants so we went to a nearby Olive Garden for a soup, salad and bread stick lunch. It was nice to get away from the hospital and have a decent meal for a change.

We will head back to the hospital this afternoon when my mom gets off work (so I can drive her... yes, it's Driving Miss Stacie) and hope that the good news from yesterday still holds.

Thanks again for your patience and support, it is greatly appreciated. Synopsis soon!

Delays Are My Middle Name

Okay, I know I said I would post the "Back of the Book" synopsis for my new novel on Monday but The Graminator took a turn for the worse Sunday night so I was at the Rehab Hospital all day and night yesterday (and they don't have Wi-Fi).

Grams has gotten pneumonia and they feared that she had a pulmonary embolism so they had an ambulance take her to a nearby hospital. The ER ruled out the embolism but did confirm my suspicion that she had pneumonia. We are hoping that they can resolve the pneumonia and get her eating again so that we can bring her home. She had me really scared yesterday and I don't like being scared!

I will post the synopsis soon, honest, but today is another day at the hospital (is it wrong to hope that this one has a better cafeteria than the last one?) Thanks to everyone who posted comments about the first paragraph. I have taken it all under advisement but not changed anything yet because I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. And welcome to "Jonathon Bryant", and all the new Loyal Readers. My blogosphere grows ever larger it seems (no pun intended "Hue"). Thanks to everyone who is getting the Amused and Abused word out there!

Your patience will be rewarded my friends!

Does It Grab You?

Okay, so writers get ideas all the time. I probably get three or four a week. But sometimes one idea sticks out more, or the characters keep talking in your head and they won't shut up and you have to get them out of your head before you can work on anything else. Just such an idea ganged up on me the other day and I have decided to put my other writing aside temporarily while I tell this story.

Everyone says it's important to catch a reader's attention right away, to make them want to read your book. This is especially true when you are sending books to editors and agents and Hollywood script readers since they see many submissions every day. You want them to like your book/movie from the first few pages so they will keep reading. (Many say from the first paragraph.)

Here is the first paragraph of my new novel. This is exactly how the story started in my head and I wanted to know more, so I kept exploring. Tell me, if from reading it, would you like to read more of the book? Be honest, I won't be offended.

"I don't lead an exciting life. I mean, I work at the mall, how exciting could it be? The only time my heart gets racing is when Mint Milanos are buy one, get one free. I am way more 'couch potato' than I am 'counter-espionage'. So how did I end up here, tied to a gorgeous (but unconscious) man, three feet away from a bomb with a counter that reads 00:05:23?"

Okay, critique away. Would you want to know more? Monday I'll have the 'back of the book' synopsis for you to rate as well. Mucho thanks in advance!

I Should Have Been A Disco Queen

I always feel like I was born too late. I just know I should have been born early enough that I could have been around in the seventies.

I have been watching episodes of Swingtown, the CBS show about suburban life in the seventies. No, I don't wish I had been around to swing, but for all the other stuff in the seventies. Fondue and Farrah-hair and The Hustle. It looks like fun. I'll admit it, I have a secret passion for disco music. I like ABBA and the Bee Gees and Donna Summer. I just know that, had I been the right age, I would have been a dancing queen.

It's not just the seventies I would have enjoyed, I think. I would have liked to check out the forties and fifties too. I know, there was a huge war on, but people pulled together for a common cause, supported one another, worked together and eventually won and brought an era of prosperity that we will never see again. I so would have looked cute in a USO uniform too.

My interest in the past doesn't extend very far. Yes, I love Regency novels but I wouldn't want to live there in reality. No aspirin or penicillin, no running water, no electricity and let's face it, if you weren't in the rich elite, life probably wasn't too wonderful. I always think it's funny when people all think that in some past life they were Cleopatra or King Arthur or some other great figure. I'm pretty sure if I had ever had a past life, I was a serf or some other lowly type with a crappy life, serving someone with a better one. No thanks.

I don't think anyone will be pining to relive the years of my youth in the eighties. My mother loved the eighties because, as she says, nothing happened. She means nothing bad happened really, that it was just kind of an even keel time. But I think NOTHING happened. It was the yuppie time, when we watched The Cosby Show and did pretty much nothing else. Boring. No major social change, no uniting for a common cause, no blip on the radar. Dull, just a little wang chung-ing and some John Hughes films. (Okay, do you know how old I feel watching the JC Penney commercials that imitate the Breakfast Club?)

I'm sure the reality of the seventies probably wasn't as cool as it looked but I sure would have liked to see for myself. I would have had some cool clothes, feathered hair and danced the night away!

Some Days It's Too Hard

Anyone who knows me knows how emotional a person I am. I know this and I can't (and won't) change. But it can take a toll.

We re-arranged The Graminator's room yesterday in the hopes that she is coming home sometime this week. So we got to the hospital in the afternoon, after Gram had called. She was a bit agitated (Alzheimer's can make you that way). But she was sitting up in a chair when we got there. She had apparently pulled her PIC line (an IV line that goes into a vein directly to the heart) out in the middle of the night, bringing the number of IV's she has pulled out to three. She was playing with her current IV line and I told her that it was her medicine line and not to play with it and she yelled at me that she knew what it was and I should stop telling her what it was. Okay, even if she did know what it was (doubtful), she has ripped three of them out of her arm and that is dangerous. I would tell anyone that. But I was exhausted, it was a long week, I have been at the hospital with her all week, often the only one, and I lost it. I had to leave the room and cry.

I'll admit it, I'm tired. I'm tired of being at a hospital and worrying about my Grams bowel movements, pain management, how we are going to take are of her when she gets home, her Alzheimer's, what happens when I'm not at the hospital, getting my mom to the hospital, making sure everyone is eating, cleaning the house, getting whatever needs to be there when she gets home. I'm being a big baby and I know on a rational level that I have to be the adult but right now I feel tired and alone and scared.

Okay, enough of my over-emotional, self-indulgent moment. I need to get off my butt and shower, do laundry, mop the floor, go to the grocery store and get back here in time to take my mom to the hospital. We are supposed to meet with the physical therapy people this afternoon so they can show us some things we need to know when she is home. When I say us, since my mom weighs far less than my grandmother, I mean me. Okay, maybe the pity party wasn't quite over yet. Needless to say than my writing has been non-existent for the last two weeks and I hate to be selfish but I need to get writing. Ugh. Where is Prince Charming coming to take me away from all this when I really need him? Calgon, take me away.

I hope your week is much better than mine. Bless you all for listening to me!

Vampires and Tigers and Werewolves, Oh My

In the interest of my writing, I read a lot. Okay, well I'd read a lot even if I weren't a writer because I love to read. I have ever since I learned to read (with the book "Ann Likes Red", a truly classic tale about a young girl named Ann who, well, loves the color red. Hey, I was three, okay? And I can still recite the book more than thirty years later.) Even though I moved on to books with more challenging plot lines, I still love to read and even re-read my favorite books.

I like to keep on the current trends in fiction as I want to be a fiction writer. One of these current trends is the 'supernatural' romance. Like books where the heroine falls for a vampire or a werewolf. You know, the spooky take on the 'Beauty and the Beast" myth. One of the most popular examples of this genre right now is the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer. This is a huge bestseller, one of those young adult novels that crossed over into mainstream (like Harry Potter). Mrs. Meyers' books are about Bella, a sweet girl in love with a bad boy. Vampires are the ultimate bad boy. Most of them are the love you and leave you kind (and you are lucky if they leave you alive!) She also has a Native American friend who is a werewolf. No boring life for Bella. Ad she thought moving to the tiny town of Forks was gonna be dull.

I enjoyed the Twilight series but there was a bit too much teen angst for me to love it. I did think it was interesting to read how Mrs. Meyers interpreted and changed around vampire lore to suit her story. Her vampire family, the Cullens, live in the Pacific Northwest because her vampires can come out in the day, just not out in the sun. (And too much light makes them all sparkly, a dead giveaway that something just ain't right.) And the tying in of the werewolves to Native American legend was cool. But frankly I had enough of Bella's whining about wanting to be a vampire so she could be with her beloved Edward forever and Edward's noble self-sacrifice to have Bella grow up first. I'll read the last book, but I also wish Bella would grow up some.

Then I was watching HBO when a teaser came on, a faux advertisement for a product called TruBlood. I checked out the website and it's an ad for their new show "True Blood" which premieres next month. It's created by the same guy who did "Six Feet Under", Alan Ball. And it said it was based on the Southern Vampire series by Charlaine Harris. So of course I had to run to the library to check one of these books out. (And have I mentioned lately how much I love the library? I have saved so much money there, which is a good thing for an unemployed writer.)

The Southern Vampire series is really the Sookie Stackhouse series, and she's not a vampire at all. She's a regular human girl, almost. She can read minds. It takes place in the alternate now when the Japanese have invented a synthetic blood substitute which would be a boon for the medical community but it also allowed the vampire community to 'come out of the coffin' so to speak. Sookie was like the rest of us, ignorant of vampire existence, until a tall dark vampire named Bill walked into the bar where our Miss Sookie works. And her life hasn't been the same since. One could also argue that, at least in Sookie's case, ignorance really was bliss. Oh sure, she's had some great vampire nookie, but now her Grandma's dead, her brother is a were-panther, her boss is a shape shifter, her best friend's a witch and Sookie has been beaten, bruised, bitten, bashed and nearly burned to death on more than one occasion. If I were Sookie, I'd leave the little town of Bon Temps, Louisiana and never look back, but our heroine is like a weeble, she wobbles but she won't fall down.

I expected not to like these books because I haven't been a huge fan of the supernatural genre. I have no interest in having sex with a dead guy and sleeping with a werewolf is yucky. I tried to read a Kresley Cole book but after a rape scene in the first chapter, I put the book back in my bag and returned it to the library. (Hey, maybe it is possible to fall in love with your rapist, it worked for Luke and Laura, but I'm in the 'no way in hell' camp.) But I liked Mrs. Harris' twists on the supernatural (who knew that fairies hate lemon?) and I've been sucking them down like a vamp with a pint of O negative. There are eight books in the series so far and I'm on number seven and I've only been reading them for two weeks. (Of course, I've had a lot of time at the hospital to read.) I think I like them because they remind me of a supernatural Stephanie Plum series (I love the Janet Evonovich novels, thank you Jamie!). Sookie is the "sort of" normal one in a world full of recurring colorful - if not quite real - characters.

Now I'll be interested in seeing the True Blood series, to see how close it comes to the novels. (I already have a quibble with Anna Paquin as Sookie, she is not nearly how I pictured the character) The notes from the previews at ComiCon suggest that the series is more lusty and violent that the books, which I find heard to believe since the books are plenty lusty and violent. At least in the books I don't see the blood. But if you want to sink your teeth into a good vampire series (yes, bad pun intended) check out my friend Sookie. Like a big ole glass of southern sweet tea, you'll enjoy it and want to come back for more.

Motivation and Inspiration

As most of my loyal readers know, I took a year long sabbatical to pursue my writing. Financially I've done okay so I'm hoping it'll be like eighteen months or so. It still isn't a lot of time. And the writing is slower than I'd like - somehow I thought I'd become a writing machine, dashing off a novel a week. And when that doesn't happen, it's easy to get discouraged. Coupled with The Graminator's fall and all of the time I have spent at the hospital (good news, she will probably come home next week but she will need full time care - guess it's a good thing I'm working from home, huh?) plus the myriad of other stumbling blocks this summer (being sick for a month when I've never been that sick in my whole life, what's up with that?) have gotten me a little down. It was supposed to be so easy.

But that which does not kill you makes you stronger, or so the saying goes. This week I felt in dire need of a little motivation and inspiration. The motivation came on Monday night, when I went to the Clark County Library to meet a couple of authors of romance novels, Suzanne Enoch and Teresa Medeiros. Both have written several styles of romance, including my favorite genre, Regency. In fact the event was titled "Highlands, Highwaymen and Being a Bestselling Author". But after just a few brief remarks by the authors, it was really just a great Q&A. You could ask any question you wanted and I gleaned a lot of information from that evening. For instance, the vampire romance genre is cooling right now and the concept on the rise is cougar romance (older woman/younger man.) I found out how they each got their agents. I found out that now selling a book is a lot like selling a film concept - reduce it to a pitch. Which is great for me since I'm also trying to pitch scripts.

They were very nice ladies and it was great to hear their ideas and stories. I went with my writing friend, Dyann, and my mom, who got dragged along because we had been at the hospital and the library was just down the street and I didn't have time to run her home and drive back but she's a great sport and didn't mind. There was a book signing and refreshments after the event. After I bought the books to sign and we were waiting, I noticed that the brownies were getting low and the two authors hadn't gotten any yet (which they mentioned they were really looking forward to early on in the lecture) so I got one for Suzanne and had Dyann get one for Teresa. (Hey, I may not be very good at the schmooze but I am the queen of ass kissing.) Suzanne was actually really happy about the brownie and even signed my book with a personalized "Shae, thanks for the brownie" which I will twist in my future mind to mean she actually had one of my homemade brownies and loved them - c'mon, who said real life couldn't use a little re-writing? It was nice to speak to them for a minute one-on-one and it was also great to hang with Dyann. A lovely diversion from the hospital grind and a great motivator.

The inspiration comes from my friend Maura Prenty who finished her book yesterday. CONGRATULATIONS MAURA!!!!! Maura and I met via an online writers group and she has quickly become a true friend. She is a loyal reader and commentator on this blog and has been a source of encouragement for me both personally and professionally. I hope that I have done some of the same for her. Please check out her blog and if you can, leave her a congratulatory note on her achievement. I am so impressed and happy for her. I cried last night when I read that she had finished because I know what a huge accomplishment it is. I hope she is as proud of what she has done as I am for her. She truly is an inspiration because I know if she can do it, while working and being married, then I have no excuse but to get off my sorry butt and get a writing!

If you read a lot (and I read A LOT) you notice things in inscriptions and dedications and one of the things I have noticed is that a lot of authors have dedications to other authors. At the author lecture the other night I asked the question as to why this is. Both Teresa and Suzanne said that some of their best friends are fellow writers who they met at conventions and writers groups and such. I guess it's because only a fellow writer can understand the birthing, er, I mean writing, process and all that it entails. It is my hope that one day someone will ask me why I credit Maura and Dyann in my writing. (Yes, my family is already a given, and anyone who has seen the credits of "Supermodels" knows I like to thank all of the people that support me.) And I will answer that it is because these fellow writers have helped me through the elation, frustration, doubt, insecurity, delight and all of the other manic-depression that comes with writing a book.

Great work Maura. I am so happy for you and grateful for your friendship. I can't wait to read you novel. And thank you for the inspiration you have given me. Thanks Teresa and Suzanne for the motivation you have provided. And thanks to all my loyal readers and all of my friends who believe in me. I truly don't know what I'd do without you all!

Sour Cream Pie

I will write a long post soon but I've got a lot to do today so here is a simple recipe to keep you going until I can write longer.

This recipe is based on one I read on my friend Pat's blog. Pat is a foodie like me so I trust her recipes and when she said this one is simple, she wasn't kidding. A pie crust, some fruit and some sour cream and you are almost there. Pat's recipe calls for strawberries and that's the first way I made it. Delicious. But you know me, I can't leave well enough alone (plus my family wanted me to try other fruit.) So I have been tweaking it. I'll be honest, my pie doesn't look anything like the one posted on Pat's blog. I think she is using a deeper dish pie than I am. So I have changed the recipe just a bit to accommodate the pan I am using.

Peaches were on sale at Vons and they were so delicious, really peachy and fresh. They were also HUGE so it only took three peaches for the pie. Here is my version of Peach Sour Cream Pie. Feel free to use any fruit that you like. Strawberries were great and really, any berry or stone fruit would be lovely. You can also vary what, if any, spices you use (Strawberries need no spice, the peaches benefited from a teeny bit of cinnamon and clove.)

The recipe on Pat's blog called for a "half baked pie crust". I wasn't sure how long to blind bake the crust for. Don't skip this step or your crust will end up soggy. I used a frozen Marie Calendars pie crust and pre-baked it for 10 minutes. This worked perfectly. Then just dump in your fruit, smooth over the sour cream topping and bake. So simple, yet so good. Easy and really shows off the fruit.

Sour Cream Fruit Pie

1 half-baked pie crust
4 cups fruit chunks
1 cup sour cream
1 -1/4 cup sugar
3/4 c. flour
2 Tbsp. liqueur of choice (this isn't in Pat's recipe, it's my own addition because I found the sour cream mixture way too thick)

Preheat oven to 450. Mix sour cream, sugar and flour. Mix in liqueur of choice to thin the mixture down if necessary (I used Grand Marnier with strawberries and Amaretto with the peaches). Pour fruit into par-baked pie crust (toss with spices if you are using any) Spoon sour cream mixture over top, spreading evenly with your spatula. Sprinkle top of pie with an additional two tablespoons of sugar. Bake at 450 for 10 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 and continue baking for 30 minutes.

Yup, that's it. Simple, huh? You'll be amazed. Try this pie this weekend while the summer fruit is at it's peak. You can thank me on Monday.

Graminator Update

Okay, I promise that tomorrow I will post on something other that The Graminator, but here is a status update on her.

We finally got her transferred to a facility in Las Vegas. The drive to Henderson was awful and the facility there was sub par. Each room had a window air conditioner instead of central air and Gram's room was around 90 degrees most of the time. Some of the staff was really nice but most seemed just to do the barest minimum. And the food was pretty bad. So we worked and worked to get her transferred.

Finally she was set to go on Friday night to the Vegas Valley facility. Her transport was arranged, everything was all set to go. I left at six after being there with her all day and Will and Val stayed until almost seven (she was scheduled to be picked up at eight.) On Saturday I got up and went to the new facility and when I got there...she wasn't there.

I was furious. No one bothered to call us and let us know that she hadn't been transferred. Apparently they ordered some medical tests (no one can tell me what time these tests were ordered but they couldn't be doen before seven at night?) and they wouldn't transfer her while they were waiting for results. Now keep in mind that I was there all day and had spoken to the nurse practitioner at eleven a.m. and she never mentioned these tests. Augh!

Even if these tests were medically necessary and could not be done any other time or at any other facility, why didn't anyone bother to call us and tell us she wasn't being transferred? When I spoke to the weekend case manager he said he did call at eleven a.m. - great, dude, that was when I was at the VV facility frantically searching for my grandmother and it was only fifteen hours after she was scheduled to be transferred. Surely somewhere between eight p.m. on Friday and oh, say nine a.m. on Saturday someone could have wedged a phone call in!

So after a lengthy and somewhat heated discussion with the weekend case manager (who, in my opinion, treated us very badly and if I were a violent person I would have punched him in the nose, but Will and I were doing 'good cop, bad cop' and I was good cop) we got it all arranged again for her to be transferred on Saturday night. I stayed with her all day and Will and Val came after dinner and stayed with her through the transfer. Honestly, if they hadn't been there I'm not sure she would have been moved as scheduled (apparently some paperwork was missing even though we checked with the charge nurse three times to make sure everything was good to go). But Will handled everything and they got her settled in.

The new facility is nice, it has central air and her nurses and CNA's are really nice. We saw the PA on Sunday, her care is well coordinated and the food is better, she even gets choices. The downside is that all of this commotion has really affected her mentally. Her Alzheimer's is very manageable when she is at home in a routine. But when her routine is shaken up she gets very confused very easily and boy, has she been shaken up. She needs constant reminding that she is in the hospital and she isn't supposed to get out of bed. The hardest time for her is when she wakes up, like from a nap. She just can't tell dreams from reality upon first waking. She called me at eleven at night on Sunday. She was convinced that she was at the mechanics to pick up her car and they wouldn't let her pay for her car repairs and leave. It took me a while to calm her down and convince her she was at the hospital and that she needed to stay there. It took some doing though - at one point she was so mad at me for not understanding that she was at the mechanic's that she put the nurse on the phone to explain to me where she was...and she was sure not happy when the nurse agreed with me. Now she hasn't driven a car in more than five years and I'm not sure why she thought that the mechanic's place had beds and nurses (although after having seen my car repair bill at times, perhaps a bed and some medication wouldn't be a bad idea.) We have to constantly reassure her that she's in the hospital and she needs to stay in the hospital to get better. She wants to be home and I don't blame her. I know that the hospital is where she needs to be for her physical well being but mentally she'd do better at home. It's such a struggle. God Bless the staff who are looking out for her and the other patients.

Okay, I'll post something different tomorrow. But thanks to everyone for your thoughts an prayers, they mean the world to me!

Small World

Okay, so I went back again yesterday to make a pest of myself and try to get The Graminator moved closer to home. After a bit of run around (the lovely person I talked to the day before turns out not to be the person I need to help me, of course) I finally found my Gran's case manager (the person from her HMO). And it turns out we went to high school together. She had already faxed Gran's paperwork to the facility we want to go to and they are hoping to have a bed available today. I'm not jumping for joy until I see them loading her onto the medical transport but I am extremely hopeful. Keep your fingers crossed!

They already had Gran up yesterday for a few minutes and today they intend on getting her down to the physical therapy room. No rest around there. I would have thought with a broken bone the would have her in bed for longer but they really want to get her up, walking and out of there. Which is fine by me!

My mom is sick. She had a bit of a cold before all of this happened and all of the stress has weakened her immune system so she isn't feeling well at all. I was worried this would happen, I guess I'm glad that it's a cold and not something worse.

The title of this post is small world, partly because of the coincidence of my having been to high school with Gran's case manager (which goes to show you that as big as Las Vegas has gotten, it's still a small town in some ways.) But the other reason is because of a lovely lady named Maura. She has left me very supportive comments on my blog and I want to let her know how much they have helped. Maura and Dyann, two fellow writers, have been just wonderful about reading my blog and leaving me comments, which does such great things for me, I just can't say enough. (Check out Maura and Dyann's blogs too!) I have never met Maura in person, she lives back east, but we met through a writer's group and she has become a loyal reader and supportive friend very quickly. I really appreciate all of your comments Maura, they mean a lot. One of the problems I have is that my family is who I turn to in times of crisis and when that crisis is family related I have no one to turn to because I know they are going through stuff too. So it's nice to have someone that's in my corner, so to speak. You Rock!

Okay, it's time for me to get ready to trek to Henderson, I have to pack a bag. Hopefully when I get there someone will have good news about her transfer. Keep her in your thoughts loyal readers, they are far more appreciated than I can ever express!