It had to happen. Here I am, the lone girl on an eight man crew, training every day with another eight man crew. What did you expect? That I wouldn’t date one of them? I basically had the pick of the litter, right? Is a girl not supposed to take advantage of a situation like that? Hey, I’m a goddess. I know what to do with a guy in shorts.

I dated the Stroke of my boat, the rower who sets the pace for the rest of the rowers. The Stroke is the only rower a coxswain can see face to face, the rower I communicate the most with. Plus, he was a six foot tall, turquoise-eyed, platinum blonde. I’m not blind.

Then there was the Stroke of the other boat. Light red hair, light green eyes, and six feet three inches of pure muscle. Player? He was a total player. A complete rake. Being a rake, he couldn’t resist stealing the other Strokes girl. It wasn’t me, it was the situation. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.) It was Alpha Male against Alpha Male. Stroke versus Stroke.

I resisted him for as long as I could, I swear. At least 5 months. He was relentless, and obvious. I finally asked Stroke #1 what he thought about the situation and he told me I should go out with Stroke #2. Yeah, he was that confident. Idiot.

So I did. Rakes get to be rakes for a reason. Did I mention that Stroke #2 was relentless?

It got ugly. It got tense. The coach was not happy that his team was churning with Alpha Male snarls and bites. The other males watched from an interested distance, the way wolves do when Alpha status is being challenged. That fascinates me about male behavior; how they stand back and watch to see who’s going come out on top. Exactly like a pack of wolves.

That’s how I think back on it, an anthropological study into what happens when there are sixteen males and only one female. Being the Lone Female in a pack of Males is a lot to handle. I managed it. I’m a goddess, after all, but it was intense for awhile.

Being a writer, I use this experience as fodder for my writing. How men act. With each other. Around women. With each other about women. It went in as experience and comes out as character arc and scene development. In my Courtesan series, I’ve used this dynamic often. Funny how those scenes nearly write themselves. Ahem.

In the end, I stayed with Stroke #1. He and I left crew since the situation with Stroke #2 made it impossible to stay. But Stroke #2 prowled the edges of my life, even after Stroke #1 was gone. In fact, Stroke #2 hunted me down a month before my wedding and sniffed around. How often have you read a scene like that in a romance novel?

Do you enjoy reading scenes where the heroine is caught between two powerful men? Do you like scenes where men struggle for the right to claim one woman? Do you like it when you experience it in real life?

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If you’ve ever watched Stargate: SG1, you know that the characters spend their days stepping through a stable worm-hole type thing and stepping out the other side onto another planet. Different colors, different temperatures, really weird creatures, Dom DeLuise – they’ve seen it all.

So this got me to thinking. If I could design a planet, what would I include? What would I exclude?

I’d definitely want oceans and mountains, because who wants to look at just flat everywhere? No deserts, because they’re too hot and dry. No marshes or bogs, because they’re too soggy. Lots of trees and meadows, and winged cute furry things with pretty singing voices. Some cute, furry, non-dangerous land animals would be nice, but I could do without bugs and bitey things.

Oh, and I’d want the ground to be purple, because I look good in purple. And maybe the oceans could be iridescent, and the fish would be white and black. That would look cool.

And I wouldn’t name my planet anything like Earth. Come on. Who thought that up? I would name my planet…Suzannicus. Or Enochopia. Or Avalon, maybe, if I was feeling more high-brow.

What particular thing would you like to see on your very own planet? What would you call your planet? And what would the weather be like?

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In honor of Susan K’s wedding (it IS today, right?), I figured we could talk about fun weddings. I don’t know about you, but one of my favorite wedding scenes ever in a movie is the one in Love Actually, where the groom’s best friend Mark plants musicians throughout the audience to play “All You Need Is Love” as a surprise. I loved it! It was so original.

About the only original thing I did for MY wedding was to have poetry read instead of music. It was very lovely, but hardly as creative as in the movies.

We had a fun reception, too, although I do wish we’d had a wedding dance like the one below (yes, I had to have an excuse to embed this video–it cracks me up every time!!!):

How’s that for the coolest wedding dance ever?? Thanks, Caren Helms Crane, for sending it to me!

So what about you? Was your wedding a masterpiece of creativity or did you go with the traditional as we did (mostly, anyway)? What’s the most original thing you’ve ever seen in a wedding, either an actual wedding or a TV/movie wedding? What’s just one thing you’d LOVE to see in a book’s wedding scene?

And many happy returns to Susan K and her soon-to-be husband!!

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I’m STILL not done with the manuscript!!! AUGH! Part of the reason is that life keeps handing me these little tasks that seem to take up so much time. But I cannot go past Thursday, so this, too, shall pass.

One of those silly little tasks is that recently, I had to fill out this questionnaire that has to do with my little ward. It asked all the usual stuff: Name, occupation, how much money do you make, are you sure that’s all don’t you own another house or something the government could come after if they wanted, etc. But then, at the end, the questionnaire asked me to name three things I liked about myself and three things about myself I thought could use improvement.

I said to myself, are you freaking KIDDING me? You (you being the questionnaire) honestly expect me to sit here and think of things I like about myself like some touchy-feely earth mother? Okay, here’s one: I like my hair. HA!  And I like my taste in flip-flops! And I like that I don’t have drink coffee anymore!

But then I calmed down and started thinking about it. It is hard to sit there and think of things you like about yourself or to admit things you think need improvement. A lot of stuff I thought of fit the flying monkey category. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t bad, it was somewhere in the middle, sort of grotesquely fun.

Anyway, I thought today we should all take a moment to remind ourselves why we are goddesses. I’ll go first:

Three things I like about me:

1. I’m honest.

2. I take care of myself so no one else has to

3. I think I’m fun to be with. I mean, I like being with me, so I figure everyone must, right?

Three things that could stand improvement:

1. I am too vain for my own good.

2. I can be pretty impatient/short/okay, surly/ at times.

3. I could be a better wife if I wanted to be, and what needs improvement is that I really don’t want to be. hahahaha.

Three flying monkey things about me:

1. I love dogs more than a lot of people in my husband’s family.

2. I have more men friends than women.

3. I’ve reached an age where fiber is suddenly the most important thing in my life.

Your turn, Goddesses! Name 1) three things you like about you, 2) three things about you that could stand a little improvement, and 3) three flying monkey things about you

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I have a horrible memory. I can’t remember people’s names, birthdays, or where I first met them. I’ve lost every game of trivial pursuit I’ve ever played and I miss more appointments than I keep. If I don’t write down all of my bills and when they’re due, they don’t get paid. And if I need something at the grocery store, if it’s not on the list, it won’t be in the basket.

But the worst part of having a weak memory muscle is that I can’t sing ANY songs all the way through using the correct words.

Ok, ok, there are TWO songs I know all of the words to — “Happy Birthday” and “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” But then I’ve had 40 entire years to learn them and there was that short period of time when I thought part of “Rudolph” was “And if you ever saw it, you would even say it snows!”

My daughter still enjoys reminding me of that.

Still, despite my poor memory, I loooooove to sing and refuse to stop. When I get to the parts I don’t know, I just make up words. Some make sense. Some, not so much. Apparently, this bothers various members of my family because, over the last week, no fewer than seven of them have sent me the following clip from Bulgarian Music Idol. (Give it a moment, it may take a second or two to load.)

So . . . when you’re in the middle of belting out a song in the shower or the car, and you realize you don’t know all of the lyrics, do you:
A) keep going anyway, mumbling nonsense words until you come back to the parts you know?
B) politely quit singing until you can do a quick lyrics check on wikipedia?
or C) never worry about this because you’re one of those rare, wonderful, magical people who remember all of the words for every song you hear? (Darn you!)

And have any of you, like me, sung “Ken Lee” all by yourself?

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About 10 years ago, I was driving down I-75 to my job in Cincinnati, listening to Jim and Bubba Bo on B105 (my dial never left that station).  Anyway, they announced they were changing their format from my beloved country to my more beloved “All Garth, All Day and All Night.”  Well!  Garth Brooks was all The Rage at the time, and my favorite.  The radio stations played him nearly non-stop.  That they’d have an All Garth station wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility.

There were howls of protest from listeners. “Hey, Bubba, this time y’all have gone too far!” Of course it was an April Fool’s joke.  I guess I was fooled for five minutes or so, mostly because I wanted to be, LOL.  Of course, this was in the privacy of my car and I never let on until this moment that I’d been so gullible.  Now, y’all keep that quiet, okay?

I love the idea of April Fool’s.  Here are a few famous April Fool pranks that made me chuckle:

* In 1996 the Taco Bell Corporation announced that it had bought the Liberty Bell and was renaming it the Taco Liberty Bell. Hundreds of outraged citizens called to express their anger. Their nerves were only calmed when Taco Bell revealed that it was all a practical joke. The best line of the day came when White House press secretary Mike McCurry was asked about the sale. Thinking on his feet, he responded that the Lincoln Memorial had also been sold. It would now be known as the Ford Lincoln Mercury Memorial.

* In 1976 a British astronomer announced on BBC Radio that at 9:47 AM a once-in-a-lifetime astronomical event was going to occur that listeners could experience in their very own homes. Pluto would pass behind Jupiter, temporarily causing a gravitational alignment that would counteract and lessen the Earth’s own gravity. He told his listeners that if they jumped in the air at the exact moment that this planetary alignment occurred, they would experience a strange floating sensation. When 9:47 AM arrived, BBC2 began to receive hundreds of phone calls from listeners claiming to have felt the sensation.

Have you ever been fooled by an April Fool’s Day prank?  Have you ever done the foolin’?  How did you feel - amused, annoyed? Did you admit to being taken in?

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I’ve done lots of cool things in my life and have seen lots of cool places.  But every now and then I think, I wish I could drive a race car really fast or ride a horse through a meadow with the wind in my face.   I’ve always wanted to stand at the top of one of those rocks out West that only crazy people climb, and see forever.   I’ve always wanted to swim with dolphins.

Some things I want to do require special skills I was not born with, like - I’ve always wanted to be able to sing Ave Maria - it’s a hard song, you know?  I’ve always wanted to be able to learn a language snap, like that.  Or play the piano or violin.  Or paint.  Not sure any of those things will ever happen, at least not well!  Or in any form that I’ll let you all see.  Ha!

DH has always wanted to parasail or hang glide.  If he ever does those things, he’ll do them alone - I get motion sick watching the IMAX, LOL.  He also wanted to swim with the fishes and recently got SCUBA certified, so he’s achieved that dream.  (But he has not “swum with the fishes” in a mafiosa context, so have no fear.)

Some of the things I’ve wanted to do, I’ve achieved.  But I still have a lot of dreams, things “I’ve always wanted to do.”  A lot of times, I’ll let a character in one of my books do the thing I’ve always wanted to do - and that’s almost as good.  It’s nice to have fantasies sometimes.

So what are some of the things you’ve always wanted to do?  Are they something you can do now?  Something you need to train for?  Do you think you’ll ever do them, or is it okay to just keep them a dream?  If you’re a writer, do you let your characters fulfill your dreams?

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I have a key ring. It has my house key, my car key, and my Borders reward card on it. I believe in travelling light.

My key ring is kept in a wooden bowl next to the door. I walk into the house, the key ring lands in the bowl. I walk out of the house and the last thing I pick up is my key ring.

But in a drawer in the kitchen, I have a tiny pewter bowl that is full of keys. Overflowing with keys. Keys tumbling out. I don’t know what these keys are for.

Apparently I have a key collection and I don’t know how it got started. I never set out to collect keys. I don’t want these keys, but I’m afraid to throw them away. What if they are Important Keys? What if they unlock the vault? Not that I have a vault, but they must unlock something.

I’ve convinced myself that these keys must do something essential to my life, which is why I have them in the first place, and why I kept them in the second place, so I can’t throw them out now. The very fact of their existence in my kitchen drawer means that they are essential to my life. Even though I’ve never used them and I can’t think what they can be for.

You can see the vicious circle of my reasoning, can’t you? The keys Exist, therefore, they must have Meaning.

I should have paid more attention in my college philosophy class. I am clearly facing one of those If A equals B and B equals C, then A equals C scenarios. I got a D in that class.

I think that means I’m stuck with my keys.

What are you stuck with? Do you have keys without meaning? Do you keep them or do you toss them? Will you come and toss mine? I lack the intestinal fortitude to kill a useless key.

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My microwave broke.

Panic ensued. Immediately.

Now, I’m of an age (ahem) where I can remember without any trouble at all getting my first microwave. I was married with children. I was not a kid. I learned how to do all the cooking stuff without a microwave. But then I got a microwave and it…owns me.

Boil water for a hot drink? Is anything worth that amount of time and effort? The answer is obviously NO.

Eating leftovers. Without a microwave. Two choices: you can either eat them cold or you can heat them in the oven on a low temperature. I’m eating them cold. Hey, cold string beans aren’t that bad.

Naturally, the second the microwave broke, I shattered every speed limit getting to the closest store that could provide me with a new one. I found one I wanted, in the color I wanted, at the price I wanted, and smiled in giddy delight at the salesman, transaction complete.

It wasn’t in stock. It would be ready for pick-up in five days.

I almost beat him to death with my bare hands. If it doesn’t come in five days from now, I still might.

Do you remember your first microwave? Is it your favorite kitchen appliance, after the refrigerator? Would your cooking routine stumble without one?

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Last April, I agreed to write a tie-in to a soap opera. The publication was aggressive and I had to write it very quickly—in 45 days. I know there are authors who do that, but I am not one of them. But it was a good deal, so I cleared the decks and did nothing but write that book…for about 40 days.

On May 15, with only days left before I had to turn in that book, life came at me fast and walloped me with a two-by-four: an eight-month old baby was deposited on my doorstep—that would be the doorstep of a woman in her 40s who had never had children of her own. To say I was freaked out was an understatement.

He is my stepson’s son, and I won’t burden you with the ugly details because you’re smart women and can probably guess why a baby would end up living with his grandparents. And I do love my stepson and am hopeful things will turn around for him, so I guess I am protective.

Anyway, I was stunned—my husband works for Fed Ex freight at night, so it was just me and the baby. He wasn’t on any sort of schedule, so he didn’t sleep at nights, which meant I didn’t sleep at night. I obviously didn’t have day care, didn’t know how to get daycare, and I didn’t know what to do with him from hour to hour. And he would watch me, like he was waiting for me to do something, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do. 

I cried buckets in those first two weeks. How would I ever do this? How long would it last? I didn’t tell anyone–least of all, my editor or my agent, because that book was on such a short time line and I didn’t need them freaking out, too. I told a few very close friends because I needed help. I was so stupid, I didn’t know he might be crying because he had a dirty diaper. He and I learned through trial and error, and I  got him on a routine, and I got some day help. After a couple of months, I still hadn’t told anyone because by then I was afraid if I did, someone would come and get him, and I would have to share my devastation with the world.

Ohmigod, I fell so hard for this little boy! I went from thinking my life was over to wondering how I could ever live without him. I finally told the goddesses because I couldn’t live up to my end of the blog bargain—weekends were out of the question. They were all very cool about it, because they’re just cool, and they even indulged me by telling me he really is the Cutest Baby Ever.

A few more months went by, and my speech was peppered with his name. I began to cite facts about the importance of baby schedules like I was a pro. People eyed me suspiciously, and with good reason.  But by then it had become apparent to us and to the state that this would not be a short term gig.  Now, he’s been with us 10 months, and I have a different perspective. I know he will be with us many more months. I also know that whatever happens, this child and I have bonded and he will always be a part of my life.

Life came at me fast. But it added missing dimensions to my life and plumped up my soul. Granted, this isn’t the best way to go about having a baby, and it certainly hasn’t been without heartache—I suspect there is more to come—but it has been one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. I am glad life came at me–I wouldn’t have missed him for the world.  And oh yeah–I don’t know how I did it, but I got the book in on time and it performed better than anyone had hoped. Funny how those things work out.

Have you had a life-altering experience? How did it impact your life?  And seriously, is he not the Cutest Baby Ever? :-).

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