I’m a Little League family now. Well, I’m aunt to a new Leaguer. Now I’ll have to help sell hot dogs and sit in bleachers and do that organized sports stuff. I already bought a glove so I can help my nephew practice. Playing catch is a lot more strenuous than I remember it being.

I’ve never done organized sports. When I was a kid, my sisters and my mom were in Indian Maidens (an offshoot of Indian Guides). I was Little Branch. Mom was Big Tree, and the sisters were Little Twig and Little Leaf. Dad helped out with a lot of the stuff, so we gave him the honorary name of Big Root. These days I realize why some of the other dads – and moms – thought that name was so funny.

Oh, and I was in the Academic Decathlon when I was in high school. And I was the editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. That’s pretty much it as far as organized groups go, unless you count being a member of the David Cassidy fan club, and then later the Star Wars fan club (okay, and the Star Trek fan club). Dear heavens, I was a nerd way back then. Today, of course, I belong to the Romance Writers of America, but that’s like a work group. Kind of.

Did you do organized sports? Are they fond memories? What other groups were/are you “officially” a part of?

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Maybe it is the crummy economy or the endless to-do list on my desk. It could be the winter weather. Whatever the catalyst, I find that I have these moments of extreme impatience with the world lately. I turn into a curmudgeon in my head.

Various things set it off. Like yesterday, I went to buy makeup.  “We don’t have your shade. We are discontinuing that line,” the lovely complexion at the counter informed me.

Easy for you to say, honey. You don’t need the only foundation in the world that really helps with oily break-through. And what is it with these clinical coats you cosmetic saleswomen wear, anyway? And furthermore—-

You get the idea. An ongoing, barely rational rant ran through my head while I smiled and thanked her and headed off.

Then I went grocery shopping.

I had a recipe I wanted to make and, wouldn’t you know, one ingredient had just fallen victim to the “we’ll just make it smaller and they won’t notice it costs more” marketing strategy. Yeah, well, we do notice, bub. And now I have to buy two for my recipe and have waste that I did not have before, so THANK YOU, Mr. Brilliant Beancounter, MBA.

I already posted last week how all the pants in the stores are too  long if you don’t wear 3 inch high heels. I am still grousing about that during my curmudgeon moments. When they strike it is common for me to drag up old insults to fatten the complaint file.

The curmudgeon moments usually start with situations that make me feel like a victim of nickle and dime oppression, or irrational, arbitrary corporate fiats. Speaking of both, want to join me in a rant about banks and airlines?

The moments pass quickly. I don’t want to live my life as a curmudgeon, after all. But during those moments I am a crusty old broad right out of Central Casting in my curmudgeony head.

Is it just me? Do you find yourself having curmudgeon moments too?

What sets it off for you? Rant away. We’ll have a one day Curmudgeon Fest and Support Session. Fill in the blank: “It drives me crazy when____________________”

P.S. I was just told that in order to be a curmudgeon, you have to be a MAN. Yeah, says who? Don’t get me started.  . . .

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I don’t really think about my age much. I like who I am and where I’m in life. I got here by all the experiences I’ve had, and I have no regrets. Oh, if I could go back, I might alter the amount of time I spent in previous relationships, but I wouldn’t change anything.

A few weeks ago, a friend from out of town came to see me and we met for lunch at a local restaurant. The first order of business was conquering the huge cocktail list. The waiter asked us what we’d like to drink, but he looked about fifteen and I blurted, “Are you old enough to take our drink order?” He got rather offended and assured me that he was over 21. I felt so bad that I’d offended him, I left him a big fat tip. But, after that day, I’ve started to notice something strange. I’ve started to notice age.

When did cops all become younger than me? I see them in their patrol cars, and they look like kids. Have you been to an emergency room lately? When did all the doctors start looking like they’re just out of high school? Fireman too. Didn’t they all used to remind me of my dad? And to add the final insult to injury, I’ve had to wear heels the past few days and my feet are killing me. I used to wear stilettos all the time. Heck, I’ve run in stilettos. Now suddenly I’m limping after a few hours in two inch heels.

Did the world suddenly get younger and I didn’t notice? Or is there some age threshold, and once you pass it, you’re suddenly older?

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You may not realize this, but we’ve updated the Know Your Goddesses section of the site to reflect the addition of our two new goddesses. So I thought it might be fun to see how our reader (and other writer) goddesses would answer some of these questions:

Where do you read or write?

1. Home Office
2. Waiting for your kids at soccer practice
3. Coffee Shop
4. Patio
5. In bed

What do you wear while reading or writing?

1. Jeans or shorts and a t-shirt
2. Casual slacks and shirt
3. Sweats
4. Nothing
5. PJs
6. Taffeta and tiara

What is your favorite beverage to sip whilst reading or writing?

1. Coffee
2. Tea
3. Soft Drink
4. Water
5. Tab
6. Other

What would you do for chocolate?

1. Walk over really hot sand
2. Walk in hot water
3. Walk through fire (if the chocolate didn’t melt, of course)
4. Blech

What would you do for a kiss from Hugh Jackman?

1. Jump through hoop of fire
2. Throw myself from the top of a burning building onto the top of his limo and hope he would notice before the ambulance scraped me off and hauled me away
3. Wrestle his huge hulking body guards to the ground using my high-falutin’ kung fu techniques, regardless of the choke holds and flying meaty elbows I might encounter
4. Anything he wanted
5. Hugh who?

What are your favorite gifts to receive (you can list more than one)?

1. Food
2. Jewelry
3. Clothes
4. Books, DVDs, or CDs 
5. Knick-knacks
6. Practical stuff (like an appliance or a manicure set)
7. Bath goodies
8. All of the above
9. None of the above

Now you can go compare your answers to ours!

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I admit I’ve been suffering a severe case of cabin fever lately. Piles of snow and frequent winter storms will do that to a person. So will being housebound for weeks hobbled by crutches. So will having your dh in Europe out of phone contact and with only limited e-mail contact. But it’s pretty sad when you start telling your life story to the furnace repair guy. (Actually, it was only a tale about my wedding anniversary, but still….)

According to all the personalty tests, I’m really an extrovert at heart, but I don’t usually spill my personal stuff to perfect strangers. My sis-in-law, on the other hand, never met a stranger in her life. Within ten minutes of meeting someone, she’s become bosom buds/BFF’s. Her dh, however, you have to pry info out of with a crowbar. Which probably means they’re well matched.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been cooped up too long with only my characters to talk to. Maybe it’s a buried craving to make people understand and like me. But more and more these days, I find myself initiating intimate conversations with the grocery store clerk and hygienist at the dentist’s office.

And then there are my characters themselves. For my latest heroine, I used “lively” as a major personality trait, while her hero has a bunch of personal secrets he won’t spill without them being forced out of him (by our intrepid heroine, who else?)  Which probably makes them well-matched, too.

Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Do you frequently tell people more they need to know, or do you keep your lips buttoned up? And when it comes to fictional characters, do you prefer lively or quiet heroines? Extroverted or strong silent-type heroes?

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I only saw one of the Oscar nominated flicks, which is one more than usual.  I saw Dark Knight,  a) because my kids wanted to go, and b) it was entertaining.   So I really don’t have any opinion about the movies nominated this year, or which ones won.  I never guess right on the “Best” vs. “Worst” gowns (because I have no style), so I’ll leave that for the goddesses who do!

Still, I love the movies.  For me, the success of a film is in the memory I carry away, not necessarily in the awards it received.  For example, the first “grown up” film I ever saw in the theater was Kramer vs. Kramer, which won Best Picture in 1979.  I was 13.  I went with a neighbor friend and had to be led blindly from the theater when it was over – I’d cried my eyes shut.

Indiana Jones – the first one – was the first movie I saw with Mr. R in the theater.  I was 17.  He didn’t realize I was afraid of snakes.  I nearly broke his hand during the snake pit scene and then he knew not to take me to any other movies with snakes, LOL.   Much later, after we were married, Mr. R and I played hooky from work when we’d been hit with a death in the family and, needing escape, saw Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.  It helped.  The first movie we took Oldest Daughter to see was Baby’s Day Out, and I still remember her giggles.

After I’d written this blog, I told Mr. R about it.  He chuckled at the snake pit memory, then sobered, sadly, at the Bill and Ted memory.  “We needed it that day,” he said quietly.  Then when I said “Baby’s Day Out” he smiled, real big.  “The best part was her laugh,” he said, remembering our baby, who’s now 18.  Memories are such powerful things.  Shared memories more so, I think.

A special movie memory for me as an author is connected to The English Patient – a film I totally despised.  (And which, incidentally, won the Oscar for Best Picture in 1996.  Don’t get me started.)  But it’s special because, while standing in line to buy tickets, I asked Mr. R – quite out of the blue, “If you wanted to escape your husband and fake your own death, how long before you’d be declared dead?”  I’ll never forget the stunned look on his face as he turned and stared at me.  “Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.  LOL.  It was the plot of my first novel, DON’T TELL, which I sold in 2001.  Because Mr. R and I mutually despised the movie, we spent our dinner afterward discussing my book idea.  It’s a memory I’ll always keep.

What movies hold a special memory for you?  Were any of them Oscar contenders?   What makes a movie memorable for you?

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Karen Hawkins let me do FROS today, no doubt thinking I would give you some more photos of my inspiration for Bram Johns, my May hero. She should have known better.

I am a science fiction fan. I love the brainy guys who can do hero stuff. Nerds with brawn. And so here is my gallery of my favorite sci-fi geeks.

1) Spock (Star Trek) – love the conflict of logic versus emotion, and how he still manages to be heroic and human
2) John Crichton (Farscape) – an engineer and pilot who manages to get himself shot through a wormhole into a distant galaxy, gets embroiled with fugitives and war, and manages to save both Earth and said distant galaxy while finding love.
3) Doctor Who – The 900-year-old Time Lord who could destroy the galaxy if he wanted to, but instead keeps trying to save everyone

4) Captain Jean-Luc Picard (Star Trek) – Clever, brave, and wise, and the sexiest bald man I know
5) Dr. Daniel Jackson (Stargate) – can decipher ancient languages, fire a weapon, be possessed by evil aliens, and still can’t wear contact lenses

Enjoy the nerd FROS! Do you love the nerds?

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