I’ve had my laptop for five years. I love my laptop. My guess is that it weighs 23 pounds, is about the size of the Austin telephone book, and has a full-sized keyboard. It’s been dropped twice—both times on the little wireless thingie that sticks out, no less—and survived.

But all good things must come to an end. It started acting weird two months ago. It’s gotten progressively worse, and Saturday, in the middle of a marathon writing session (why do I always save this stuff for Saturday??), it died, DOA.

So Sunday, I got up and said “I’ve had that laptop for five years. I am a writer! I deserve a good laptop!” And I marched down to the Apple Store – first one in, practically – and bought a souped-up Macbook.  Souped-up Macbooks are not cheap.

I couldn’t help it! This puppy could launch one of my dogs to the moon! It’s got all these cool goo-gaws and really neat little icons. I sure couldn’t take pictures of myself with my old laptop.

It’s a sweet machine…but there is only one little teeny-tiny problem: I’ve never used an Apple machine, so now I am floundering around like it’s my first day in school.

This is what happens to me every time I impulse shop. I get in over my head. I spend way more money that I might have done had I thought about it carefully and researched it.  If I had done so this time, I probably would have found a pc laptop with all the same gizmos at half what I ended up paying.   Now, I have a laptop with an apple on the back that I am having to learn in the middle of a deadline.

But I am going to love it.  I am. I swear I am!

Have any memorable impulse buys you want to share? Which are you, Mac or PC? And do you have any tips for an Apple Virgin?

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I’m sure by now you’ve all seen those “Life’s Lesson” ads on TLC . I love the one about the cat lady. So I’ve decided to share a few of my life lessons with you.

1. Don’t forget the boiling eggs. The water evaporates and the eggs explode like little grenades all over the kitchen.

2. Don’t forget to turn off the bath water before running to the store. You’ll come home to a flooded basement.

3. Never tell your kids you’re going somewhere fun until you’re in the car. If something happens and you have to cancel, they’ll never forget the time you lied about Disneyland. Not even when they are twenty-five.

4. Never talk crap about your friends or relatives in front of your kids or the next time your mother-in-law walks in the door, the three foot mimic behind you will say, “Grandma, mommy says your deviled eggs suck hairy donkey—.”

5. It’s perfectly okay to tell the person who cuts in front of you that the back of the line starts behind you.

6. It’s perfectly okay to have lust in your heart. Matthew M. . . . call me.

What are your life’s lessons?

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I love games. I love crosswords and sudokus and Rook and Connect Four and Monopoly and oh, anything where one person can BEAT another. I figure some of you might like to play games, too.

So I came up with a game just for us goddesses here at thegoddessblogs.com.

THE RULES: Look at your lovely author goddesses above. Below are some fun facts I’ve collected from them. All YOU have to do is match the Fun Facts with the Author Goddesses.

THE ANSWERS: The correct answers (and the winner) will be announced at ten p.m!

THE PRIZE: The goddess who FIRST posts ALL of the right answers will be lauded as The Goddess Guesser Extraordinaire AND will receive an ADVANCED READING COPY of my August 21st release, TO SCOTLAND WITH LOVE.

Some of these are tricky! And just to make it REALLY hard, I tossed in two extra. I WILL tell you this … there is at least one fun fact per goddess. After that, it’s up to you to figure out who did what or was what or wants what or — oh, you get it.

THE FUN FACTS:

1. In college I worked for a corporate law firm — hence my affection for lawyer jokes in my stories.

2. I once had a camel named after me by a Bedouin tribe in Oman.

3. I spent my seventeenth birthday in a Guatemalan prison.

4. I waitressed at Shoney’s for two whole years while in college. Did you know the strawberry pie leaves permanent stains? To this day, the palm of my right hand is red.

5. I once had a Top Secret security clearance. (Or was it Just Secret? I don’t remember, but it was one or the other!)

6. In the sixth grade I once jumped into a pool of Jello for the chance to win a diamond ring. No, I didn’t win.

7. My Pampers production lines made the first elasticized diapers in the world.

8. I’m walking the streets of London right now. Yup. That’s me — a London Street Walker.

9. At the age of eleven, I had to take the entire series of rabies shots–sixteen in the belly (including two boosters) and two in the butt.

10. I skipped my college graduation to attend a Star Trek convention and bid on Spock’s right ear.

Now put on your thinking caps, look at your goddess pictures above, and get to guessing!

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My eyes may glaze over when my fellow goddesses rhapsodize about boots and cute purses and cigarette pants (I heard about those for the first time when Julia mentioned them on Rachel’s blog), but if you start talking about jewelry, I perk up. And I don’t just mean gemstones with gold or silver. I mean, cheap paste, glass beads, glitter encased in acrylic (I actually own and wear two of the rings in the picture). The more sparkly or outrageous it is, the more likely I am to have it in my extensive collection (except for diamonds, which are far too boring; the only diamond I own is the one in my engagement ring).

You know the character you always see in the movies who’s supposed to personify tacky? The woman with the big rock and the bangles, chewing gum as she teases her hair into a living memorial for fleas? That would be me, minus the big hair (hey, I’d have it if I could, but my hair won’t do that). I LOVED “The Nanny.” I still watch the reruns. I even covet her clothes, shoes, and bags, and as I said, I’m not so much about the clothes, shoes, and bags.

But mostly I adore tacky jewelry (those of us in the know call it “funky” or “eclectic”). I’ve been in ecstasies ever since sparkly cheap jewelry came back into fashion. Not only do I own a pin that spells “Bimbo” in red rhinestones, but I actually wear it. At romance writer contests. Around editors and other Important People of the Industry. For amusement.

I honestly don’t know how I got this way. I’ve considered the possibility that there’s something my parents aren’t telling me, like maybe I’m an illegitimate member of the Drescher family. It would explain my love of all books steamy. And the jewelry, too, since my Mom wears “classy” jewelry, preferably made of genuine precious metals and expensive gemstones (yawn).

So how about you? Are you into classy, real jewelry, or do you like the outrageous stuff, like me? Have you ever worn earrings so heavy that they hurt your ears (I have) or so big that they snagged on your shirt (yep)? Or do you (gasp!) not wear jewelry at all? And does anybody happen to know where I can find a necklace that spells “Romance Writer” in colored rhinestones and delica beads?

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Today we welcome newly pubbed author Deb Marlowe to be Goddess of the Day here on Mount Olympus.  Deb’s debut SCANDALOUS LORD, REBELLIOUS MISS will hit UK shelves November, 2007 and bookstores in the good old USA in early 2008!  So here’s Deb!

Have you ever noticed how pregnant women are like magnets? Other women love to ask them questions, touch their bellies and regale them with their own birthing tales. Well, I’m here to tell ya that writers are the same way.

In publishing there is nothing so magical as The Call—the first time an actual editor in an actual publishing house tells you over the phone: “We’ve read your book, we love it, we want to buy it!” Well, maybe The Call telling you that you’ve hit the New York Times Bestseller List, but that’s another story!  J

As an aspiring writer I loved to hear the story of how others got published. It inspired me and gave me hope. I anticipate that years from now, when I’m a multi-pubbed author—hey, I’m a positive thinker!—I’ll still love to hear those stories and they will reignite the fire and passion for what I’m doing. In that spirit of generosity and camaraderie, the Goddesses have invited me to share my story with all of you!

It was a dark and stormy night—Just kidding! Actually it was just another day filled with diapers and rice cereal that I decided to try what I’d always wanted to: write a book. And not just any book, but a romance—the sort of book that had given me so much pleasure and provided the perfect escape through the years. So I started writing—a sweeping historical romance á la Kathleen Woodiwiss. I shudder to think of it.

I discovered the Romance Writers of America and I met my critique partner, the fabulous Liz Carlyle, at one of my first meetings. We were both starting out, and happy to explore mysterious subjects like POV, and could a hero have relations with another woman after he’s met the heroine?

She wrote like mad and I wrote like . . . mud. S L O W L Y—in between my first child’s eight, count ‘em, eight surgeries and the birth of another child. Liz—amazingly gorgeous writer that she is—got published and I became her #1 fan and cheerleader and the lucky dog who got to read those delicious books before anyone else! 

I stayed in RWA and went to a few conferences and met other writers—amazing women like Sabrina Jeffries and Claudia Dain and Caren Crane. Here’s a picture of me, Claudia and Caren at RWA in Reno.  Sabrina took the pic!)

And finally when the second child went to school, I got serious. I wrote a whole book. Actually finished it. I started submitting and I started writing another. I got a ton of rejections, from both editors and agents. I had that almost moment, when an editor wanted to buy my book, but someone up the ladder nixed it. I finished another book. I entered it in the Golden Heart contest, RWA’s premiere contest for unpublished manuscripts.

And then I got The Call! A lovely pair of women with even more lovely English accents called from Harlequin Mills and Boon in London. They had a slot open in 2007, and could I do revisions over the weekend? You betcha! Deb Marlowe was born! I was obnoxiously happy (Claudia and Sabrina will testify).

Just when doubt began to set in (Was it a fluke?) and nerves (What if my editor hates the second book?) I found out that my second manuscript was a finalist in the Golden Heart! I was thrilled. I think my editor was too. She bought the second manuscript in a three book deal! So here I am, a newly birthed published author, obnoxiously happy.

Thanks to all the Goddesses for asking me to share my story—and for sharing so many of their own romantic tales through the years! I can’t wait to join them on the bookshelves!

So tell me, what are the dreams that you hope to pursue one day? Have you got a cool birth story to share? Who do you share life’s glorious moments with and what is it that makes you obnoxiously happy?

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One of my books, HER MASTER AND COMMANDER, is up for a cover award. Here’s the contest link in case you, uhm, you know, want to vote or something.

No pressure, of course. And you may see a cover or so from your other goddesses, too . . . I can’t remember if there were any more in there . . . ok, maybe one. But I’m not saying which; you’ll have to see for yourself!

My favorite category (besides the Two-Cover Category) was Worst Covers. I laughed SO HARD but I also winced a good bit, thinking of the poor authors who got stuck with some of these. Which made me think of today’s topic — COVERS.

It’s an age old romance question — what constitutes a good cover? Some of you may not realize that authors have only a nominal part in the cover design process. We can ask for certain things, but the decision is made at a Cover Conference meeting and no, authors are not invited.

No author wants a horrid cover. Fortunately, your lovely goddesses have all been blessed by the cover gods this season! They are all works of art.

What sort of covers do you like? Do you like a cover that depicts the characters? Those with a hunky guy draped over the cover? Or do you like a concept type of cover with flowers or castles and such? Do you pay more attention to the picture or the overall colors? And did you vote for HER MASTER AND COMMANDER (or one of the other goddesses, if there are any more) in the cover contest?

P.S. If you want a sneak peak at the fabu cover for my August 21st release, TO SCOTLAND WITH LOVE, then this Saturday, from 2-4, stop by the grand opening of the brand new Books-A-Million in the Westfield Mall in Brandon, FL, just east of Tampa. I’ll be there and you can see the magic that is TO SCOTLAND WITH LOVE! Bring a large purse, too, as Ghirardelli Chocolate is doing a giveaway at that same time. Yummm! Chocolate AND romance! What more can you ask for?

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I just spent my first little vacation in two years in Las Vegas watching the Equestrian World Cup, which featured international, world-class riders competing in dressage and show jumping. The athletes and horses were incredible, exhibiting skills honed over many, many years.

I know those riders toiled and sacrificed to get where they are. But to be that good – to reach Olympic heights – they also need to have an innate talent that most of us can only dream of.

How I envy their talent, to be physically capable of competing at that level. I have a few hard-won talents myself, but none that can match even a fraction of theirs. And I have so many frustrating limitations. For example, as a kid during cheerleader tryouts, I couldn’t do the splits to save my life, so of course I didn’t make the squad. (I’m sure that experience warped me for years.)

If I could pick one mortal talent I would love to have, it would be to ride like those competitors in Vegas.

What about you? What talent would you love to have?  Have you ever suffered because you didn’t have the talent or skills you needed to participate or to achieve your goals?

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Deb Marlowe will be our Guest Goddess for the Day on Friday, 4/27.  Deb’s a newly published author and one of our own frequent goddessblog posters.

Deb Marlowe writes historical romance for Harlequin Mills and Boon.  She sold her first novel, was named a Golden Heart finalist for her second, then sold that second manuscript in a 3 book contract–all in the last few months.  Her debut, Scandalous Lord, Rebellious Miss, is a November 07 UK release and will hit the North American shelves in early 2008.

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I have a book due on June 1st. With writing both historicals and contemporaries, my writing schedule has been…hectic over the past two years. Now my point isn’t the relative mushiness of my brain, though as I wipe drool from my chin I do know that’s probably a valid concern.

Today I’m writing about one of the hazards of writing. Something dark and serious, something that people never really talk about. Not in public. It’s not carpal tunnel syndrome – I know writers who suffer through this, but so far I’ve been lucky. No, this is much more sinister.

I’m a victim of TBS – Tired Butt Syndrome. Basically, I’ve been sitting, in a chair, on the couch, on a bench, in another chair, on the floor, for the past ten months straight while working on four different books. I sit forward, I sit back, I switch from one haunch to the other. But I must sit. I can’t think of a way I can write, either by hand or on a keyboard, while walking. And between you and me, I’m not going to recite a love scene into any kind of recording device while hoofing it on a treadmill. If I didn’t fall off, somebody around me probably would.

And so I sit. And my bottom get numb. I think it’s s p r e a d i n g, too. I’ve tried writing while lying on my stomach, but then my arms fall asleep. Once I tried draping myself over the ottoman so I wouldn’t have to rest on my arms, but then all the blood rushed to my mushy head. After I regained consciousness, I figured that wasn’t a very good idea. Before this, I never would have thought that sitting could be…tiring. But indeed it can be.

Are any of you sufferers of TBS? Do you have another weird work-related ache or pain? Does anybody have a solution for chronic TBS?

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This comes, of course, from the classic “A Christmas Story” with Ralphie and his Red Ryder BB Gun.  We’ll have fun with this topic closer to the holidays, I imagine.  But Raphie is not the subject of my blog.  Flick is.  He was the one who licked the icy pole and had to have his tongue wrapped in adhesive tape.  Chuckle, chuckle…

I thought of my favorite personal tale of the TRIPLE DOG DARE this weekend when I was remembering my years of travel.  I experienced many wonderful foreign cultures.  But some of the traditions … well, you be the judge:

I love Japan.  It is beautiful country filled with very friendly people.  One person of which did the equivalent of the dreaded TRIPLE DOG DARE.  On one of my trips, I was invited by my host and his colleagues to a lovely little restaurant with a relaxing pond with pretty fish …

The American I was traveling with - I’ll call her “T” - did not like fish or “anything raw” and announced this loudly as we entered the place.  Our host looked crestfallen.  That eliminated about 95% of the menu.  I felt terrible for him and resolved to pick up the slack - I’d be game for any food.

I was the perfect patsy for the TRIPLE DOG DARE.  So we sat down on the floor and proceeded to order.  My host - whose English was impeccable - said with a twinkle in his eye, ”Would you accept …” and named everything on the menu.  He didn’t ask “Would you like?“  He asked “Would you accept?“  The nuance is quite different.  Of course I said, “Yes, yes, yes” to everything - even to foods I didn’t recognize, because “T” had pursed her lips tighter than a prune.

The waitress began to bring the food which was getting rawer and fishier with each course.  (Note - I don’t like fish or raw stuff either - but I was trying to be nice!)  Finally, the main part of the meal arrived.  It was a big fish, served on a platter, its head and tail poked up on sticks so that it was arched up on the ends.  And on its belly, on a bed of lettuce, was the meal, squares of raw fish fanned out like a deck of cards.  An interesting serving prop, I thought, thinking the arched fish was fake, like a lot of the food I’d seen in Japanese restaurant windows.  Ha!  P-A-T-S-Y.

I was psyching myself up to take one of the raw fish squares when ”T” gasped beside me.  “Karen, it’s … BREATHING.”  And she was RIGHT.  The fish we were about to eat had been taken from one of those pretty swimming fishes in the pond!  Like, only minutes before!  The fish’s tail was flipping, its mouth was gasping, its eyes were blinking and its gills were …doing whatever the verb is for what gills do. 

I was stunned.  And revolted.  And my host started to laugh.  It was a DARE.  It was obvious neither he nor any of his colleagues believed I’d eat it.

But, like Flick, I was not to be undone by the dreaded TRIPLE DOG DARE.  So I ate it.  It was nasty.  But I swallowed every bite.   And thus earned the respect of my host and his colleagues.   It turned out, that fish dish was a very expensive delicacy to be enjoyed with friends. 

However, to this day, whenever I go to a Japanese restaurant, I just order the tempura.

So what have you done on a TRIPLE DOG DARE?  Come on, come clean.  You know you want to.  In fact, I triple-dog-dare-you to.

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