About a week ago the unthinkable happened. Something that changed the lives of those left behind forever. Two days ago, it happened again. Today, I asked my deployed friend what I could do for him and the platoon. He jokingly said he could use a hug, which of course, half a world away I couldn’t provide. Then he said, “Vienna Sausages. That’s what the guy sitting next to me wants.” I said okay. Anything else? “I’d love a jar of sliced jalepenos. Oh, and maybe some of that Chef Boyardee Ravioli. And chips.”

I guess it’s the simple things in life, the familiar, that we cling to at the most trying times like this. At first you simply go through the motions and try to remember to keep breathing. Exhaustion takes over and your body eventually remembers how to sleep again. And then one day, food becomes more than just a necessity and you find yourself actually hungry again, and craving the things that remind you of better times.

So tomorrow I will go to the grocery store and I will buy vienna sausage, and sliced jalepenos, and canned ravioli and chips, and I will shove as many as I can into a flat rate Priority Mail box because I can’t send a hug through the mail, but perhaps I can send a little comfort, even if it’s only comfort food.

I’ve gone through life very happily with my eyes closed, simply selecting something off the grocery store shelf that promised tasty goodness on my tongue without much thought past the pretty picture on the package. I am of the Red Dye #2 generation, where we children saw the complete disappearance of red M&Ms for years because someone, somewhere had decided they would give us cancer. I didn’t much care–the green ones were my favorite anyway.

Yet there I was this morning, whipping up a bowl of 1% milk with the powdered contents of a package of sugar free, instant, artificially-flavored pistachio pudding and as the powder hit the milk, and my whisk hit the powder, it all turned into what looked like an unappetizing bowl full of leprechaun semen. I immediately looked to the packaging and, ridiculously so I know, was shocked to see right on the front the words “artificially flavored”. No kidding! How about “artificially colored”?

I’ve made this name brand dessert many times over the years and I’ve never thought twice about it, but as I’ve said, I’ve been ruined by my friend who is on a new health kick and has forced us all to re-examine our eating habits. Some changes I’ve found easy. Things like using my stainless steel water bottle instead of plastic bottles, or microwaving leftovers only in glass rather than in used, plastic, chinese take-out containers. Other changes I am finding incredibly difficult. I haven’t enjoyed a cup of coffee since she convinced me to give up my artificial sweetener and powdered creamer. I’ve tried half and half, heated and frothed milk, soy milk, sugar, agave, and all combinations in between and I’m still not happy. The worst part is, when I gave up and tried to go back to my old ways, that now tastes funny to me too. Maybe I need to switch to tea…

Anyway, I have no answers for you, only whining. Sorry, my only excuse is that it is early in the morning, my coffee tastes like crap and I have leprechaun sperm in my fridge. Maybe it’s time to get back to the past. The days when my father would harvest his homegrown vegetables (fertilized only with manure and compost) and my mother would preserve them in Ball jars for the winter. When we had our own chickens who roamed the yard eating bugs and laying fresh eggs. I’m not talking Colonial times (I’m only 43 years old after all). This was a decade or two ago. How have things changed so quickly? Maybe it’s time we considered changing back.

Cat

His issue as a chef was this… famous food critics who write restaurant reviews for publications such as the NY Times are, well, famous. Given that, every one of his 5 restaurants had the photo of the reviewer taped behind the hostess desk so if this critic came in, (s)he would get the highest quality of service from both the waitstaff as well as the kitchen, thereby kind of defeating the purpose. Reviews are supposed to tell the rest of us everyday folks what to expect from our visit, but alas, we are not famous and won’t get treated as such.

Then there’s Zagats, that famed restaurant review book people shell out good money to purchase to make an informed decision about choosing a restaurant. Did you know that anyone in the world can submit a Zagat’s review, regardless of qualification or personal agenda? I didn’t until he told me.

Apparently reviews were a hot enough topic for him to want to devote his space in that magazine to it. At the time I wasn’t writing full time, so it wasn’t until recently that I realized the irony of this subject he chose. Reviews, you see, are also the bane of every author’s existence.

It is a double edges sword. You want reviews, you NEED reviews, to get your name out there in the public. However, as the title of this post indicates, people’s opinions differ greatly. Watch any movie review team on TV and you will see one critic describe how he loved a film while his partner tells why (s)he hated the exact same movie.  How is that useful to the consumer? I’m not exactly sure except that the movie is being brought to their attention.

Then there are the reader reviewers in this crazy book biz I’m in. Reader reviews are kind of the equivalent of Zagat’s reviews. You don’t know who the reviewer is, or what the qualifications are, or what particular ax they may have to grind that day. In any case, just like the professional reviewers, readers will have their own opinions and view a book with eyes colored by their very personal experiences and feelings.

Knowing that, you would think we authors would take reviews with a grain of salt. The reality is I can get 100 good reviews but it is that 1 bad one that sticks with me. That is my own problem. What is not within my control to fix however, is how often review systems are flawed. Case in point, Amazon.com’s reader reviews. Here you can rate a book with stars (1 for bad, 5 for excellent) and also write a commentary review. Recently there has been a big controversy going on with books vs. eBooks regarding availability and pricing. Readers and authors are the ones most affected by this mess, but it is the publisher and the reseller in control of the situation. However, disgruntled readers have turned to giving books bad reviews to express their displeasure with the pub/reseller decisions. They could love the book, but will give it a 1 star because they are mad it is priced too high, or not available in kindle format. Unfair to the author but readers say they have no other forum to express their displeasure.In the old days, they would have likely put pen to paper and written a letter of complaint (you remember pen and paper, from grandma’s days?) But now Amazon puts that handy dandy star rating right there for you and you can complain with just one click of a mouse and then move on with your busy day… You see the issue.

Then there is the anonymity of the internet which leads people to believe that common courtesy is no longer necessary.  The internet is not a filter. It is also not one of those interrogation rooms where the reader is behind the one-way glass in a soundproof room where the author can’t see or hear them. Comments made are public and yes, authors see them.

So, what? Where does this leave us? I don’t have the answers. Chefs, actors, writers, artists… we all need the reviews for word of mouth, which as we know is the best form of advertising, and we all wear the scars from those reviews. Perhaps we need thicker skin. Maybe I need to tattoo the title of this post on my arm for when I stumble upon a negative opinion. Or I have to simply remember that reviews, good or bad, mean someone took precious time to not only read but also to write about little old me and my book, and for that I am most grateful.

Until next time.

Cat

This is kind of my philosophy too, for better or worse. Nothing inspires me more to do something than being told I can not, or should not, do it. Immature? Perhaps. Human nature? I think for quite a few of us it is.

I’ve seen this effect in others besides myself. For instance, the pro bull riders just had their World Cup last weekend. Each country has one captain, and he chooses 5 of his country’s best riders to compete in what amounts to the Olympics of bull riding. Country against country, the highest combined score wins. The Brazilian team captain chose 4 out of his 5 riders, but seemed to be dragging his feet on the last rider. The choice of who that 5th man should be was obvious, but yet the captain refused to name him. When he was questioned regarding the delay he’d respond with things like, although the rider was good he wasn’t a team player, he didn’t listen to instruction, there were other men who could be chosen instead.

Meanwhile, what did the rider in question do? I don’t want to misquote statistics, but last competition I saw he had completed his 5th consecutive 90-point ride, which if you don’t know the sport, is pretty damn amazing. He was breaking records, proving himself to the man who said he couldn’t do it. Yes, he finally got named for the team at the last possible minute. And guess what? It was his ride that clinched the world title for his country.

Being told “no” is a powerful motivator and I make no apology that it is one of my strongest. Just say I won’t and watch me go…

Cat

Why am I babbling? Perhaps because I’ve spent the last week in computer hell, battling mysterious symptoms that come and go on my MAC while I watch helplessly as my PC is repeatedly crippled by the dreaded Blue Screen of Death.

What does all of this have to do with what’s sexy? Only this… I’m an Alpha male kinda girl. I usually write the typical uber-tough heroes.  Manly men who are not just tough guys for their professions of soldiers and firemen and cowboys, but also for their personalities. However today, after my journey to computer hell, the computer geek is my fantasy man. I dream of him charging into my life and saving the day by wrestling the evils affecting my precious laptops.

Call me fickle, or practical or maybe just a damsel in distress. Either way, as independent as I am, I’m not so much so that I don’t love a man to ride in and save me once in a while, no matter what I’m being saved from.

Until next time I bid you adieu from computer hell.

Cat

I suppose I’ve always known this to some limited extent. I’ve actually watered down some true life stories for my books because the truth was too hard to believe. Just the other night I took one look at the name of a new bull rider on the pro circuit, Stormy Wing, and said to my husband, “If I named a character that I’d get killed with criticism, but it’s this kid’s real name”.

You see the dilemma when life is so strange no one would believe it if I were to write it in a book. However, I can write it here and perhaps have someone believe me that it is the absolute, God’s honest truth.

So what was the strangeness that assaulted me last night? It was the current state of the online dating scene. My friend has decided to make online dating a second job, or at least that’s what it seems like because it takes as much time and effort as a job, and some of the men she’s encountered are real pieces of work. For instance the one with the foot fetish. To his credit he did ask her during live date one (the one and only date) if a man with a foot fetish would disturb her. She asked the same question I did when she told me… what exactly does having a foot fetish entail? I was picturing toe sucking and cringing at the fact that it’s been far too long since I’ve had a pedicure, but apparently this man enjoys his (time for some purple prose here to keep the censors at bay) ‘nether region pleasured’ by feet. I kid you not.

In another area of the net, for people who don’t want to shell out the cash for the more well known and well advertised dating sites like the foot man above did, there is Craig’s List. Apparently you can find not only used furnishings on there but also men, women, and transvestites in the Personals section. I learned some new terminology. Apparently on Craig’s List in the Casual Encounters section, “car dates” are a perfectly common thing. (I believe they are using the term ‘date’ quite loosely there.) Fair warning, keep the kids far away from that site, my eyes are still burning from some of the images I saw.

Truth truly is stranger than fiction and in the internet age, dating is, sadly, stranger still.

Cat

What does this all mean? In my eyes it means we are becoming more distant from each other, separated by modern conveniences that isolate us in a technology bubble. It appears we have more communication, but in reality the distance between people has grown.

Here is what I propose… This Valentines Day instead of going online and ordering an overpriced dozen roses, sit down and write a letter… and I mean with a real pen and piece of paper. Cook your lover a meal and eat it together, at home where it’s quiet and there are no waiters and other patrons to disturb your conversation and whatever else may follow the meal. Turn off the technology and simply be together. Love is free, and sometimes it needs to be free from modern conveniences as well.

Happy Valentines Day!

Cat

Some of the most successful movies, both recently and historically, by no means had happy ever after (HEA) endings. Maybe I’ve been trained to see things differently. Working with independent romance publishers, an HEA, or at least an HFN (happy for now) is a requirement for many small press romance publishers and for many readers. In fact, it’s a deal breaker for many pubs.

So why does Hollywood and the movie-going public flock to movies that leave the characters and the viewers without a happy ending? I wish I knew. What I do know is that while watching “I am Legend” with Will Smith, I kept waiting for his HEA. I even IMd my friend mid-movie and said “Please tell me this has a happy ending.” Of course, he couldn’t. Recently I watched “Knowing” with Nicolas Cage. They set us up for a romance between him and the female lead. Spoiler alert for those who haven’t seen it… things do not end well, for anyone.

My coworker and I joked last night that we have to write a book where our characters are miserable, or even better dead at the end, then we can sell it to Hollywood and maybe even win an Oscar. Honestly, if we look at the stories that defy time (Romeo and Juliet, King Arthur and Marian) things again, don’t end well. So why do they touch us so? Why do we seek out and share the characters’ pain?

Perhaps because real life happy ever afters are few and far between. Maybe misery simply wants company.

Recently my one friend has begun seriously looking. The whole routine with the online dating sites, followed by day after day of basically blind dates, followed by her complaining that looking for love was a lot of work. Having been married for nearly 20 years myself, I hate to break the news to her that finding him is just the beginning of the work. But throughout this process of hers, I see a pattern. She gave me a whole list of things she didn’t like about the guy de jour before she even met him. After the date, the list grew. Things such as “He’s a former cop, which I don’t like” before the meet up. Folowed by “I didn’t like his teeth and he’s possibly a Nazi” after the meet.

That was when my original suspicions were confirmed. She isn’t open to finding love. If such ridiculous minutia is going to prevent her from getting to really know a guy, she will never get close enough to any man to fall for him. No one is perfect. There are imperfections with everyone, but when you are truly in love, you don’t see them.

I’m not picking on my friend. I think this phenomenon is common. In fact just yesterday it was a segment on Oprah. A very attractive 40-something year old woman couldn’t find love. They brought in a professional matchmaker to help her. The woman’s must have list for her perfect mate was a mile long and included things like “never been married, no kids, younger than her, and he can’t ever drink out of a straw.” What? Good luck with that (and that was exactly what the matchmaker told her).

So I guess my question is this… are some of us open while other are simply closed to love?

Cat

What is most interesting is I think it is the opposite for my friend the chef. I know when he is stressed, he goes outside and works in the yard, or cleans the house, or replaces all the nails in the sheetrock with woodscrews instead…you get the idea. I guess for him, anything besides what he does for a living is his escape.

Anyway, that was my epiphany this new year. I’ve also begun an attempt to be more healthy. My friend’s family had quite a few cancer scares last year and since she has become a healthy living guru. Consequently I have gotten numerous lectures about how the artificial sweetener and creamer I prefer in my morning coffee is going to kill me. I’m not promising that I’ll reform totally but I have taken a step. I purchases a Keurig milk frother. The thing was insanely expensive but since I had a coupon and it was the week before Christmas, I treated myself to a gift. It heats and froths non-fat milk into beautiful, creamy peaks that turns coffee into a latte worthy of Starbucks, and for way cheaper. I’ve also made Chai Tea Latte at home with it. Considering the crazy prices at coffee shops nowadays, I probably paid for it already and I have to say, it feels truly decadent to have such a beautifully indulgent cup of coffee while still in my pajamas.

Yes, coffee can be sexy!

So that is my ’state of the author’ address for this new year. I’m resolving to write every day, but also to give myself a mental break when I need it; treat myself to the good things in life (IE $80 frothers and tasty lattes); and yes, until my stress level lowers there will be lots of cooking.

Until next time,

Cat