Ten years ago, I was living in Jacksonville, FL. My husband was still in the Navy, stationed on the U.S.S. John F. Kennedy aircraft carrier and deploying frequently, leaving me home alone with a full-time job, a 4-year-old, a 1-year-old and two dogs. Like everyone, the many people affiliated with my company were anxiously awaiting the opening minutes of Jan. 1, 2000 to see what, if anything would happen to the world's computers on that auspicious date. By then we were all sick of hearing about Y2K concerns, which in hindsight, turned out to be the very least of our problems in this last tumultuous decade.
In the last ten years, I've gone from having a baby and a toddler to a high school freshman and an 11-year-old who I can no longer wrestle with unless I want to get hurt. We've suffered through the unimaginable losses of three of our four parents, numerous aunts and uncles, and the parents of dear friends. We've lost our two precious dogs, who'd been with us since the early days of our married life, and we moved from Florida to Rhode Island where we've now been for seven years—the longest we've lived anywhere in our 17 years of marriage.
While the world around us dealt with terrorists and wars and hanging chads and economic turmoil, we have been working, raising our kids, and pursing a few dreams on the side. Becoming a published author this decade was a definite highlight. But what's much more important to me is the continued good health of my family and friends. The most enduring lesson of the last ten years for me is the importance of good health. In the end, it's all that really matters and it makes everything else possible.
Ten years from now, I should have one college graduate on my hands and one more working his way through (no doubt kicking and screaming all the way). We will no doubt lose more of the people who guided and shaped us, which I've decided is the part of adulthood I hate the most. How are we supposed to survive without these critical people? If I figure it out, I'll let you know.
In the meantime, as this year and decade come to an end, thank you to my faithful readers. Thank you to everyone who made my entrance into the world of publishing so much fun. Thank you for checking back here for my irregular updates. I look forward to chatting with you in the "teen" years! Happy holidays and a happy happy New Year!
Friday, December 18, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Gravity Always Wins
Remember that John Mellencamp (or was he Cougar then?) tune, The Authority Song? I fight authority, authority always wins? Well in my case, if you substitute the word gravity for authority then you've got my theme song. I fall down—a lot. Not sure why, but me vs gravity is an ongoing battle, and gravity is certainly winning the war.
It all began when I was 9. I skidded out on some sand on my bike and took a major wipeout that led to an ER visit. The doctors and my parents were understandably concerned about the injury to my nose that occurred when the crossbar landed on my face. However, I kept trying to draw their attention to the more painful knee vs pedal injury, which has plagued me in various ways ever since. Later, when my brother and I were allowed to ride our bikes on a busier street, I got run off the road by a flower delivery truck and crashed into a chain link fence. Ouch! I have a scar on my elbow from that incident. I still remember my mortified brother continuing on without me! After that, I more or less scratched bikes off my list of can-do activities. (I'm not counting the incident on a lonely road in Indiana with my now-husband running along side me when a large dog came bolting after us and took a chunk out of my tush. Somehow I managed to stay on the bike that time—score one for me vs. gravity!) I ended up married to a guy who lives to ride bikes and owns seven or eight of them at last count. He goes bike riding by himself. It's better that way.
Skiing was another disaster of epic proportions. There was the incident with the tow rope when I tried to avoid a kid who had fallen in front of me and took the metal bar to the fanny (are you sensing a theme here?) leaving a HUGE bruise. Another time I had to be tied to the instructor to get down off the bunny slope. In an ironic twist, we returned to that mountain years later and my daughter took a lesson from the same instructor. I swear he remembered me...
Ice skating? No. Just no. Rollerblading? An even bigger NO. NO. NO.
Lately, however, I haven't even needed extreme sports such as bike riding, skiing or ice skating to bring me down. In October, I fell out of my car into the driveway and T-boned myself on my own laptop, breaking a rib. Yes, you read that right. Do you know anyone else who has ever uttered that particular sentence? I didn't think so. I blame my husband for this accident. He parked his truck at a weird angle in the driveway, which forced me to do the same, putting our downhill-facing driveway further down than it normally is when I step out of my car. The weird thing is, I don't really remember falling. I remember shifting my laptop bag to my left shoulder and then I was in the driveway with the computer wedged in my rib. What happened in between is a mystery. When I told him about what happened, my father suggested I lead with my feet. Ha. Ha. Ha. That's really funny, dad. Thanks. My husband blames the driveway, which rushed up to meet me. By the way, the computer was just fine. Thanks for asking. And, yes, I did check its condition before I took a look at the swiftly swelling rib area.
I recently stepped into my daughter's landfill of a room, encountered beads under my feet and went sprawling, face down onto her floor. "Watch out for the beads," she was saying as I hit the floor. Gee, thanks for the warning!
Just this week, I stayed in a hotel for my aunt's funeral. It was just me and a king-sized bed, which I somehow managed to miss when returning from a middle-of-the-night potty run. One minute standing up heading for bed, next minute laying on the floor. As my cousin so astutely put it, isn't the king-sized bed the focal point of the hotel room? Yes, it is, but somehow I managed to miss it. As we trudged through sleet and snow to get to my aunt's grave site, my cousins propped up their elderly parents—and me. They weren't sure who was the bigger liability.
Gravity always wins.
It all began when I was 9. I skidded out on some sand on my bike and took a major wipeout that led to an ER visit. The doctors and my parents were understandably concerned about the injury to my nose that occurred when the crossbar landed on my face. However, I kept trying to draw their attention to the more painful knee vs pedal injury, which has plagued me in various ways ever since. Later, when my brother and I were allowed to ride our bikes on a busier street, I got run off the road by a flower delivery truck and crashed into a chain link fence. Ouch! I have a scar on my elbow from that incident. I still remember my mortified brother continuing on without me! After that, I more or less scratched bikes off my list of can-do activities. (I'm not counting the incident on a lonely road in Indiana with my now-husband running along side me when a large dog came bolting after us and took a chunk out of my tush. Somehow I managed to stay on the bike that time—score one for me vs. gravity!) I ended up married to a guy who lives to ride bikes and owns seven or eight of them at last count. He goes bike riding by himself. It's better that way.
Skiing was another disaster of epic proportions. There was the incident with the tow rope when I tried to avoid a kid who had fallen in front of me and took the metal bar to the fanny (are you sensing a theme here?) leaving a HUGE bruise. Another time I had to be tied to the instructor to get down off the bunny slope. In an ironic twist, we returned to that mountain years later and my daughter took a lesson from the same instructor. I swear he remembered me...
Ice skating? No. Just no. Rollerblading? An even bigger NO. NO. NO.
Lately, however, I haven't even needed extreme sports such as bike riding, skiing or ice skating to bring me down. In October, I fell out of my car into the driveway and T-boned myself on my own laptop, breaking a rib. Yes, you read that right. Do you know anyone else who has ever uttered that particular sentence? I didn't think so. I blame my husband for this accident. He parked his truck at a weird angle in the driveway, which forced me to do the same, putting our downhill-facing driveway further down than it normally is when I step out of my car. The weird thing is, I don't really remember falling. I remember shifting my laptop bag to my left shoulder and then I was in the driveway with the computer wedged in my rib. What happened in between is a mystery. When I told him about what happened, my father suggested I lead with my feet. Ha. Ha. Ha. That's really funny, dad. Thanks. My husband blames the driveway, which rushed up to meet me. By the way, the computer was just fine. Thanks for asking. And, yes, I did check its condition before I took a look at the swiftly swelling rib area.
I recently stepped into my daughter's landfill of a room, encountered beads under my feet and went sprawling, face down onto her floor. "Watch out for the beads," she was saying as I hit the floor. Gee, thanks for the warning!
Just this week, I stayed in a hotel for my aunt's funeral. It was just me and a king-sized bed, which I somehow managed to miss when returning from a middle-of-the-night potty run. One minute standing up heading for bed, next minute laying on the floor. As my cousin so astutely put it, isn't the king-sized bed the focal point of the hotel room? Yes, it is, but somehow I managed to miss it. As we trudged through sleet and snow to get to my aunt's grave site, my cousins propped up their elderly parents—and me. They weren't sure who was the bigger liability.
Gravity always wins.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Time Flies
How is it possible we have just 30 days left in the decade of the 00s? Remember 1999 when we were breathlessly waiting to see what would happen to the world's computers when the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2000? Does that really seem like 10 years ago?? To me if feels as if this decade has flown by. On Jan. 1, 2000 I had a 4 year old and a 1 year old who are now 14 and 11. My daughter, who hadn't yet started school, is now in high school. My "baby" boy is a fifth grader. My husband, who was a chief in the Navy in 2000, has now been retired almost eight years. We moved to Rhode Island in August of 2002. This month we marked our seventh year in this house, the longest we've lived anywhere in 17 years of marriage.
In an article well worth reading, Time Magazine is referring to this as the Decade from Hell, thanks to the contested presidential election of 2000, 9-11, Hurricane Katrina, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the economic meltdown and other things you may have forgotten about but which left a lasting mark.
For our family, in some ways this has been the decade from hell. My husband and I lost three of our four parents as well as numerous aunts and uncles. We began the decade with two dogs, Roscoe and Consuela, both of whom have since passed away. These have been difficult, life changing losses. But our glass remains much more than half full. Our children are healthy and thriving (and FRESH), we have a wonderful family and delightful friends who make for a tremendous "village" in which to raise our children, I've realized my lifelong dream of becoming a published author, and thanks to my books, I've made so many lovely new friends.
Speaking of friends, I'm expanding my Marie Force Facebook account, so if you haven't already, please send me a friend request! I look forward to seeing you there. In 2010, I plan to start the new decade off right by greatly expanding the action on my blog. I want to talk books! I read like a crazy woman so next year I want to keep track of all the books I read. I'll be reporting in here and keeping a list to see what the grand total for the year turns out to be. I'd love to talk books with you, so tune in often to find out what I'm reading. I also want to talk more about what I'm working on so readers will know what to expect from me down the road. You might be surprised to learn that I'm working on my first-ever historical romance! I'm having an absolute ball with it! What do you think? Can a tried and true contemporary girl go historical? Hmmm.... Finally, in 2010 I plan to offer up one of my unpublished books to my blog readers as part of the promotion leading up to the book currently named "See You Next Time." More to come on that soon!
Now tell me, have you already decorated for Christmas or are you like me and put it off as long as you can? And did this decade go by as quickly for you as it did for me? Do tell!
In an article well worth reading, Time Magazine is referring to this as the Decade from Hell, thanks to the contested presidential election of 2000, 9-11, Hurricane Katrina, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the economic meltdown and other things you may have forgotten about but which left a lasting mark.
For our family, in some ways this has been the decade from hell. My husband and I lost three of our four parents as well as numerous aunts and uncles. We began the decade with two dogs, Roscoe and Consuela, both of whom have since passed away. These have been difficult, life changing losses. But our glass remains much more than half full. Our children are healthy and thriving (and FRESH), we have a wonderful family and delightful friends who make for a tremendous "village" in which to raise our children, I've realized my lifelong dream of becoming a published author, and thanks to my books, I've made so many lovely new friends.
Speaking of friends, I'm expanding my Marie Force Facebook account, so if you haven't already, please send me a friend request! I look forward to seeing you there. In 2010, I plan to start the new decade off right by greatly expanding the action on my blog. I want to talk books! I read like a crazy woman so next year I want to keep track of all the books I read. I'll be reporting in here and keeping a list to see what the grand total for the year turns out to be. I'd love to talk books with you, so tune in often to find out what I'm reading. I also want to talk more about what I'm working on so readers will know what to expect from me down the road. You might be surprised to learn that I'm working on my first-ever historical romance! I'm having an absolute ball with it! What do you think? Can a tried and true contemporary girl go historical? Hmmm.... Finally, in 2010 I plan to offer up one of my unpublished books to my blog readers as part of the promotion leading up to the book currently named "See You Next Time." More to come on that soon!
Now tell me, have you already decorated for Christmas or are you like me and put it off as long as you can? And did this decade go by as quickly for you as it did for me? Do tell!
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
We Gather Together...
Happy Thanksgiving everyone! November has been quite a month around here. We had some rather major renovations done to the front of our house that include a new front porch, sidewalk and stairs down to our driveway along with the rebuilding of two portions of our stone wall, which were previously falling into the driveway. What a major improvement! I'd post some pics here but I've lost the charger cord for my digital camera and it's DOA. Imagine gray-ish cobblestones. However, in a stroke of modern trickery, it's actually stamped concrete. Have you HEARD of all the stuff you can do with cement these days? Well, I'll be honest. I had no idea! My dad said he's never seen it before. I said, yes, you have, you just didn't realize it was cement and not stone. It's quite cool and it's taken our front yard from hideous to fabulous! In the midst, there was jackhammering, digging, big machines, oh, and construction workers. Lots and lots of construction workers. One of them reminded me of a lesser version of Alec Baldwin and then he bent over and showed me his vertical smile. Okay. Yuck.
While my house was being jackhammered to within an inch of its life, I who never leave the house, somehow managed to get the flu. My family and I got the seasonal flu mist on a Friday and I was sick by Sunday. Coincidence? I say not! Of course I was the only one who actually got sick—no surprise there—and was I ever sick! Seven straight days of 101 fevers, a hideous cough, and an appetite that wouldn't quit. Can you stand it? Most people get the flu and can't eat a thing. I get the flu and I'm ravenously hungry. Where's the JUSTICE? It's not fair, I tell you. Not one bit fair!
In other news, today is my lovely nephew Jesse's 14th birthday. Jesse is a great kid, a wonderful student, and a talented film-maker and skateboarder. Happy, happy birthday to Jesse!
Now, I took the day off today so I could work in the kitchen all day. On the docket are two pumpkin breads, stuffing, green bean casserole, peeling and prepping 15 lbs of potatoes, and hitting the grocery store one last time for the final items. My dad is coming at 6 to help me prep the 26 lb turkey because I can't bear to touch the thing when it's not cooked. ICK! Since my dad loves turkey more than life itself, I bribed him into doing the dirty work for me this year with promises of dinner tonight. Now I have to think of something to make! Maybe chili...
On a final note, I'm grateful to all my blog readers who come by even when I'm on an extended hiatus, who email me just to say hello, and to all of you who've bought my books and taken the time to tell me you loved them, you'll never know how much you mean to me! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!
While my house was being jackhammered to within an inch of its life, I who never leave the house, somehow managed to get the flu. My family and I got the seasonal flu mist on a Friday and I was sick by Sunday. Coincidence? I say not! Of course I was the only one who actually got sick—no surprise there—and was I ever sick! Seven straight days of 101 fevers, a hideous cough, and an appetite that wouldn't quit. Can you stand it? Most people get the flu and can't eat a thing. I get the flu and I'm ravenously hungry. Where's the JUSTICE? It's not fair, I tell you. Not one bit fair!
In other news, today is my lovely nephew Jesse's 14th birthday. Jesse is a great kid, a wonderful student, and a talented film-maker and skateboarder. Happy, happy birthday to Jesse!
Now, I took the day off today so I could work in the kitchen all day. On the docket are two pumpkin breads, stuffing, green bean casserole, peeling and prepping 15 lbs of potatoes, and hitting the grocery store one last time for the final items. My dad is coming at 6 to help me prep the 26 lb turkey because I can't bear to touch the thing when it's not cooked. ICK! Since my dad loves turkey more than life itself, I bribed him into doing the dirty work for me this year with promises of dinner tonight. Now I have to think of something to make! Maybe chili...
On a final note, I'm grateful to all my blog readers who come by even when I'm on an extended hiatus, who email me just to say hello, and to all of you who've bought my books and taken the time to tell me you loved them, you'll never know how much you mean to me! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
SOLD!
Hi everyone,
Sorry it's been so long since I posted. I know I say that a lot, but you guys keep checking back and I appreciate that! Big news yesterday from my agent: we sold my book See You Next Time with an option for two more, again to Deb Werksman at Sourcebooks. Here's some info about the book:
See You Next Time
Everybody loves a hero. That's the problem.
Hero pilot Cole Langston is learning to live with—and enjoy—his newfound fame and the rabid female attention that comes with it until a lucky punch knocks some sense into him and opens his eyes to true love.
When his copilot suffers a heart attack in flight, Cole lands the jetliner in a blizzard and revives the stricken captain. Catapulted to national hero status, Cole has more women vying for his attention than he knows what to do with. They all have one thing in common: they try without success to bring this happy-go-lucky pilot down to earth. Then comes an airport altercation, a punch to the face, and the lovely Olivia—a shy, timid artist who does what no other woman has ever managed to do: steal Cole's well-protected heart. With women coming on to him everywhere they go, Olivia struggles to believe that Cole is ready for a committed relationship. His biggest problem is getting rid of all his extra ladies before the only one he wants figures out that she's one of many.
My editor is saying Spring 2011 release, but we're hoping for something sooner so there won't be two years between books. I'll definitely keep you posted!
Sorry it's been so long since I posted. I know I say that a lot, but you guys keep checking back and I appreciate that! Big news yesterday from my agent: we sold my book See You Next Time with an option for two more, again to Deb Werksman at Sourcebooks. Here's some info about the book:
See You Next Time
Everybody loves a hero. That's the problem.
Hero pilot Cole Langston is learning to live with—and enjoy—his newfound fame and the rabid female attention that comes with it until a lucky punch knocks some sense into him and opens his eyes to true love.
When his copilot suffers a heart attack in flight, Cole lands the jetliner in a blizzard and revives the stricken captain. Catapulted to national hero status, Cole has more women vying for his attention than he knows what to do with. They all have one thing in common: they try without success to bring this happy-go-lucky pilot down to earth. Then comes an airport altercation, a punch to the face, and the lovely Olivia—a shy, timid artist who does what no other woman has ever managed to do: steal Cole's well-protected heart. With women coming on to him everywhere they go, Olivia struggles to believe that Cole is ready for a committed relationship. His biggest problem is getting rid of all his extra ladies before the only one he wants figures out that she's one of many.
My editor is saying Spring 2011 release, but we're hoping for something sooner so there won't be two years between books. I'll definitely keep you posted!
Saturday, October 17, 2009
What's Up With Squeamish Men?
As my cousin David would say, I "took" a surgery this week. After years of horrible monthly events that led to at least two days on the sofa and more Advil than any human should ingest on a regular basis, I finally let the doctor do something about it in an effort to prevent more drastic hysterectomy-like measures. The surgery itself was no big deal, but all the drugs made me really sick for a couple of days. Three days later, I'm still tired but on the mend.
What I've found amusing since the surgery is the reaction of men who hear you had surgery to deal with "the girl parts." They'll start off by politely asking, what did you have done? To which I reply, girl stuff. The hands immediately go up, the international sign of SAY NO MORE. I find this so funny! I mean, for one thing, do they remember they all once LIVED inside the uterine vessel? Not to mention they've spent much of their adult lives trying to get a certain part of themselves as CLOSE to said vessel as humanly possible. So why all the squeamishness? I've decided the girl parts are only appealing to them when they are functioning properly. Any indication of malfunction is a signal to them to RUN as far and as fast from the trouble as they can.
My husband is definitely the exception to this rule. As always, he wanted every detail. This is the guy who begged to be allowed to watch two C-sections. If possible, he'd have been in the gallery with a box of Junior Mints watching this week's proceedings if they would've let him. My friend Debby puts it best: He ain't right.
What I've found amusing since the surgery is the reaction of men who hear you had surgery to deal with "the girl parts." They'll start off by politely asking, what did you have done? To which I reply, girl stuff. The hands immediately go up, the international sign of SAY NO MORE. I find this so funny! I mean, for one thing, do they remember they all once LIVED inside the uterine vessel? Not to mention they've spent much of their adult lives trying to get a certain part of themselves as CLOSE to said vessel as humanly possible. So why all the squeamishness? I've decided the girl parts are only appealing to them when they are functioning properly. Any indication of malfunction is a signal to them to RUN as far and as fast from the trouble as they can.
My husband is definitely the exception to this rule. As always, he wanted every detail. This is the guy who begged to be allowed to watch two C-sections. If possible, he'd have been in the gallery with a box of Junior Mints watching this week's proceedings if they would've let him. My friend Debby puts it best: He ain't right.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Living La Vida Mediocre
My husband Dan and I have a running joke with my friend Dawn. She is one of my oldest and best friends, and during the time I dated Dan, she was my roommate. The two of them have always been buddies. A few years ago, in a moment of supreme misguidedness on her part Dawn told me—IN FRONT OF DAN—that I got one of the good ones. I'm sure some of you are saying, awwww, isn't that nice? Well, if that's your reaction, you aren't married to one of the good ones! If you are, you know what I know: he'll never let me FORGET that I'm married to one of the good ones once he's been TOLD by a WOMAN who is not his WIFE that he is one of the good ones. You with me?
Okay, ladies, think about this for a minute. One of your best friends, who has had some experience with a few of the bad ones, gives your husband that kind of compliment right to his face. Say it with me now: Noooooooo! It's a violation of the supreme girlfriend code of conduct, and I've never let her live it down. Sadly for me, HE has never let EITHER of us forget it!
On a recent Saturday morning—before coffee—I was talking to him (he would call it badgering) about something or other, and he reminded me that I'd gotten one of the good ones. It was 9:15 on a Saturday morning! I emailed her to let her know her special brand of magic was once again at work in my life! I teasingly tell her all the time that she's lucky I still talk to her. Dan takes issue with the word "lucky" in that statement. On a recent night out with my high school friends, of which Dawn is one, I discovered an envelope in my purse with $20 and a note to buy the girls a drink from "one of the good ones." Do you see what I'm dealing with?
Last week, I changed plans to accommodate something he wanted to do. When I pointed out to him that I been amazingly thoughtful on his behalf, I reminded him that HE got one of the good ones. Oh no, he says, you are not allowed to give that title and neither am I. Only Dawn has that power. So he appealed to her and was granted her approval to refer to me as one of the good ones. But then it hit me: a lot of responsibility and expectations come with that title. Did I really want to take that on? In the end, I declined the promotion to one of the good ones and decided to continue my nearly 17-year run as one of the mediocre ones.
There is, after all, only so much room in the house the GOOD one and HIS ego! What about you? Are you one of the good ones or one of the mediocre ones?
Okay, ladies, think about this for a minute. One of your best friends, who has had some experience with a few of the bad ones, gives your husband that kind of compliment right to his face. Say it with me now: Noooooooo! It's a violation of the supreme girlfriend code of conduct, and I've never let her live it down. Sadly for me, HE has never let EITHER of us forget it!
On a recent Saturday morning—before coffee—I was talking to him (he would call it badgering) about something or other, and he reminded me that I'd gotten one of the good ones. It was 9:15 on a Saturday morning! I emailed her to let her know her special brand of magic was once again at work in my life! I teasingly tell her all the time that she's lucky I still talk to her. Dan takes issue with the word "lucky" in that statement. On a recent night out with my high school friends, of which Dawn is one, I discovered an envelope in my purse with $20 and a note to buy the girls a drink from "one of the good ones." Do you see what I'm dealing with?
Last week, I changed plans to accommodate something he wanted to do. When I pointed out to him that I been amazingly thoughtful on his behalf, I reminded him that HE got one of the good ones. Oh no, he says, you are not allowed to give that title and neither am I. Only Dawn has that power. So he appealed to her and was granted her approval to refer to me as one of the good ones. But then it hit me: a lot of responsibility and expectations come with that title. Did I really want to take that on? In the end, I declined the promotion to one of the good ones and decided to continue my nearly 17-year run as one of the mediocre ones.
There is, after all, only so much room in the house the GOOD one and HIS ego! What about you? Are you one of the good ones or one of the mediocre ones?
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