Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Books or uber-cards

Crazy Train (of thought)

If the self-check is intended for shoppers with 15 items or less, why do the clerks just stand there and allow someone with 50+ items clog up the line?

I love Fox and Friends!

We are having a party this weekend to celebrate Valentine’s Day. About 34 of our neighbors are coming over, and I am making all the desserts, buying the wine and champagne, picking up the flowers, and making sure the house is clean. And Jill wants me to find time to buy Princess a new dress for the occasion. Dear God, help me. Give me understanding.

Marital Bliss

Jill and I were sitting on barstools on the 24th floor, sipping great wine, chatting about the events of the day and looking down at the activity in Times Square. We spent part of our honeymoon in NYC, and have plans to live here a while after the girls leave the nest. It is a place we like to visit when we need a getaway weekend; it represents romance to us. I watched her as she gazed at the street below. She looked beautiful; her hair pulled back, her face lit by the lights outside, her long elegant fingers delicately clutching her goblet, a bit of red lipstick on its rim. I was looking forward to our evening, when it would be just the two of us, the kids asleep in a room across the hall. I reached out and placed my hand on her leg. “What are you thinking about?” I asked.
“I was just wondering what Princess might be doing right now.”
Dear God, help me. Give me strength.


The girls are not with us this week. We share joint custody of them with their other parents. It should be that way; kids need to be with both mom and dad, even if the marriage is dissolved. This morning is the first morning when I am not taking them to school. Yes, the morning is less frenetic, it’s nice not to fight traffic or be a short-order cook, I even get to sleep an extra few minutes, but my heart aches. I miss them.

Today’s Rant

Aren’t those people complaining about the terrorism surveillance program the same ones who bashed Bush for not knowing in advance about and then attempting to stop the terrorist’s 9/11 plans?

Book Report

I heard from my Editor last night. She has read the draft of my next book and seems happy with it. Big relief! Sure, I’ll need to make some changes, but not a total rewrite. Funny thing about my books. They are relatively short, never more than 10,000 words, but they take time. Every line needs to resonate, have the potential to tug at the reader’s heart, and be reason enough for a tear or a smile. Some critics protest that my books are not “books,” calling them greeting cards instead. All because of word count. I would ask them, is Mark Rothko less of a painter because he uses only two or three colors?

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