A pain in my neck . . .

Have you ever taken your car to a mechanic for a tire change and ended up getting a new fuel pump, new brake shoes and new windshield wipers and then got home before you realized you have the same tires you went in with? Well, that’s how I felt after a recent visit to my doctor’s.

I’ve been having trouble with my neck and assumed, since I do spend way too much time at my computer, that it might be a pinched nerve or maybe something to do with the fact that I have three disintegrating disks in my neck. Since seeing a neurologist is out of the question without a referral from a GP, I went to my GP.

He immediately scheduled a battery of tests on everything from my throat to my large colon, including an MRI and a dozen or so x-rays of my neck.

Now, I’m not an anatomy specialist, but I have trouble figuring out what my large colon has to do with a pain in my neck. But who am I to argue with a medical degree? Close to $3000 later, I returned to my GP’s office for the verdict.

He sat down on that ridiculously small stool that all doctors have in their examination rooms, poured over my test results and declared me physicality fit, which seemed to be a disappointment to him. As he got up to leave, I asked about my neck. After all, that’s what had prompted me to shell out $200 for the office call to begin with. I felt it only fair that I get some kind of feedback on my original complaint for my bucks.

He looked at me as if I’d just asked him to surrender his first born to my custody and said "Oh, that’s arthritis," and promptly left. Stunned, I stared at the closed door, realizing as I did so that I had not only gotten a new fuel pump, new brake shoes and new windshield wipers, but I’d also had my system flushed and my check book cleaned out.

My question is this . . . do mechanics and doctors go to the same school for fleecing their customers?

Belssings,
Elziabeth, who still has a pain in her neck

Spring Has Sprung....

I am so glad spring has finally arrived. It's been a lousy winter. I came home with a killer head cold in December after enjoying a wonderful birthday cruise to the Caribbean with my husband and some friends. No sooner had I gotten rid of the cold than I got an upper repsiratory infection. The topper was what followed -- back-to-back bouts with a very nasty flu. All this while I was trying to meet a March 1st deadline for a book. Needlessto say, that didn't happen. The book was three weeks late. My first missed deadline in 18 years. Thank goodness for an understanding editor.

Okay. I'm done whining. My windows are wide open, and there's a balmy Florida breeze filling my office. Nothing their to whine about.

Although spring isn't the dramatic happening in Florida that it is in my home state of New York where the crocuses peek through the snow to announce Spring, it's till my favorite season. I just love seeing the earth come alive with mist of green blossoms on the trees and the grass taking on that rich, dark green hue. I love riding down the road and watching the new born calves frolicking in a field.

Maybe it's my age, but seeing the renewal of nature adds a feeling of continuity to my life that nothing else can. Even though the world looks dried up and dead, as if it will never again sustain life, it comes back full blast.

We need to adopt the ways of nature. When life looks as though it's never going to get better, we need to look toward the time of renewal when we can laugh again and revel in the joy of just being alive.

Happy Spring, my friends.
Blessings,
Elizabeth

Into The Mist release delay

Dear Readers,

Happy Easter to all! Happy Spring to those who don't observe Easter! Now that the Mother Nature has stowed winter for another year, I hope you all are enjoying warmer temperatures. After suffering through two go-rounds with the flu bug, I'm more than ready for spring and summer.

In themeantime, I'm frantically trying to finish ANGEL UNAWARE for Medallion Press which was due March 1st. Needless to say, thanks to ill health and other unforeseen problems, it's late. The good news is that I'm closing in on the end.

PLEASE NOTE:

For those of you who have ordered INTO THE MIST or are waiting for it to be released, there is going to be a delay.

The printer who prints Medallion's book had a fire in the plant last week. As such, it has delayed the printing of the March books. INTO THE MIST has been rescheduled as an April release and will be available not later than April 15th.

Both Medallion Press and I are very sorry for this delay and any inconvenience this my cause you. Thank you for your patience and your continued support.

Happy reading!

Elizabeth

CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?

Please understand, I love my husband dearly. He’s a good, kind, understanding, supportive, loving man and has been for all the forty six years of our married life together. He loves our children, is kind to our dogs, and good to his fellow man.

He does however, have one fault that drives me up the wall.

Unfortunately, he only hears what he’s interested in hearing. He has an astounding ability to concentrate on one thing to the point of not hearing or acknowledging the world around him. He claims he developed it during his growing up years when he chose to block out his mother. I believe him because no one could have developed this talent to this degree of perfection without years of practice.

He’s been known to start thinking about a project he’s working on and miss his exit off the Interstate. Not by one exit or two or three, but by almost one-hundred miles. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been talking to him, conveying something of importance, only to have him tell me a few days later that I never told him that. Infuriating, to say the very least.

Just such an incident happened last week. While watching one of our favorite TV shows, I waited patiently for a commercial, as is my normal practice because talking to him during a show is a lot like having a conversation with a stuffed bear. When the commercial finally came on, a very in-depth reenactment of how one tiny pink bunny was able to light up an entire city when the generators failed, he stared at the TV as though they were imparting the secret to world peace. Stupidly, I ignored his fixed expression and told him that I’d sold another book.

He grunted in response, said “Way to go, honey.” I therefore assumed that my words had penetrated the attention of a grown man mesmerized by this tiny, pastel rodent beating a drum. My mistake.

Lat night, I made the same announcement to my daughter on the phone. When I hung up, he glared at me and asked why I hadn’t told him first. I, in turn, told him I did tell him the same day I made the sale. That’s when the blank looks came over him and I got the old mantra “No you didn’t.”

One would think after forty six years I would have found the secret to communicating with the man I married. Not so. I spend most of my life feeling like that strange little man who travels around the globe saying “Can you hear me now?”

Until next time…

Blessings,
Elizabeth

Why NOT to get a wedding cake from Walmart . . .

Permit me to have a small rant here:

To the left is a photo of the wedding cake Walmart delivered to my grandson's August wedding reception. The projected cost of this "leaning tower of cake and icing" was $150.00.

Some background: When my husband and I were asked to pick up the wedding cake on Friday night at 5 PM (The wedding was Saturday at 1.), we went to my daughter's local Walmart and asked for the cake. We were told, after a 30 minute search, that the cake was nowhere to be found.

When we told my stressed-out daughter, she saw red and called the store, who assured her, amid profuse apologies, that they would have a cake for her by 9 am Saturday morning. Come Saturday morning, my daughter and her hubby went to pick up the cake and found the ASSISTANT STORE MANAGER (not the baker) frantically mixing icing and making an attempt to decorate the cake. Again, she was assured that the cake would be at the reception on time. The picture to the right was what was delivered.

Note the robin's egg blue coloring. The cake was supposed to be all white on the two bottom layers with a BABY BLUE (note the color of the blue in the tablecloth) bride's cake. As to the leaning part, a friend told me, amid gales of laughter, that she had never seen a cake lean in so many directions and not fall over. The not falling over part was in question all day as the top piece continued to slide and teeter on the edge until it was finally removed for the bride and groom to cut the cake. I think that because the top leans left and the bottom leans right it may have equalized things and defied gravity.

Let me add here that while it was happening, there were a lot of very angry people.

Looking back on it now, it was a minor flaw and the only flaw in what was otherwise a beauitful wedding. In years to come, it will be the one thing we'll all look back on and get a good laugh from. Oh, by the way, when asked, the store manager told her "I can't give you any satisfactory answer as to why the assistant store manager decorated the cake." But he told her the cake was free.

However, that does not change my initial warning -- DO NOT ORDER A WEDDING CAKE AT WALMART!

Blessings to all,

Elizabeth

Writers and writing.....

Hi Everyone!

I just got back from doing a week-long writing seminar on St Simons Island, GA for the Southeastern Writers Association. It should have been work, but I have to admit, it was more like a wonderful, relaxing vacation. The conference was held at Epworth By The Sea, a Methodist camp, which was more like a small city than a camp. The entire grounds were festooned with ancient live oaks dripping in silvery Spanish moss, there was a small lagoon where dolphins came to put on a show for us daily, and I got to share it with my best friend, Vicki Hinze.

Even more attractive than the setting were the people attending the conference. What a diverse group with amazing talents and so very eager to learn. As a teacher of writing, it is very gratifying to see that kind of dedication to their craft and their overwhelming need to absorb everything they could, then put it to use. I was blown away.

Part of the layout of out-buildings is a place called "Miss Ellie's," which is a quaint, small building used for social events -- receptions, book signings, etc. Miss Ellie's has a big front porch, just like the ones that graced many old southern antebellum mansions. But, to our delight, it also has rocking chairs. I love rocking chairs, as does Vicki, so we spent many hours sitting there, rocking and talking. Eventually, people began to look for us there to talk writing. What a refreshing time for me, and Vicki. We could go on and on about our favorite subject and weren't met with that deer-in-the-headlights look our hubbies and non-writing friends adopts after a few minutes. But best of all, we got to share our knowledge with all these writers.

Beyond the setting and the camaraderie was the intense curriculum of study set up for the attendees. There were expert speakers on all aspects of writing: screenwriting, non-fiction, poetry, fiction, humor, and even limericks. Classes went from 8:30 to 4:30 every day. On Wednesday, they had "open mike night." The students voluntarily read what they'd created during the week. All I can say is it was amazing. The talent and creativity the students exhibited could only be described as purely inspirational. On Thursday, they held awards night. The students who had entered their work for evaluation by the speakers in their genre were rewarded by being chosen best in their category. What a delight to see the people we had come to know and admire all week receive recognition for their talent.

When it came time to leave on Friday, we both, though eager to get home, hated to leave. If you're looking for a conference that will send you home champing at the bit to write and a warm feeling about yourself and your fellow writers, I highly recommend you try this one. It's held every year in June. Check out their website at http://www.southeasternwriters.com/ Believe me you won't be sorry and Vicki and I may be there to chat with you on Miss Ellie's front porch.

Happy reading!
Elizabeth

Everybody into the pool!

Well, I'm out of here in a few minutes. My dear friend Vicki Hinze and I are doing a week-long seminar on the nuts and bolts of fiction writing for the Southeastern Writers. We get to spend a whole week on beautiful St Simons Island, GA. The best part is (other than not having to cook for five days) our workshops are first thing in the morning, and we get the rest of the day to kick back, relax and do what we want. That would include visiting the lagoon where the dolphins put on quite a show or just walking beneath the huge, ancient oaks dripping in Spanish moss. Chances are, however, that you'll find us sitting in the rocking chairs on Miss Ellie's front porch and talking writing to people who don't look at us with that deer-caught-in-the-headlights stare that we get from non-writers.

Before I go, I promised Mary Stella, another good friend, that I'd tell you about what Lily has been doing recently. Lily had a visit from her BIG sister (and I do mean big), Lulu, a few weeks back and shocked me when she immediately recognized her sibling. Watching their antics for the rest of the day was like watching my kids at play when they were little. They raced around, fought over toys, wrestled in the dirt and then . . . they discovered our hot tub.

For the remainder of the day, they were in and out of the hot tub and dripping water all over everyone. But they had a blast. So much so that my husband decided Lily needed her own pool. So we went to Walmart and got her a hard-sided kiddie pool.

Since we got the pool, after Lily goes out in the morning to do her . . . business, she doesn't want to leave it long enough to come in and eat. I've had to start serving her breakfast on the back deck. So now Lily gets up each morning, has her dip in the pool and dines alfresco. Seems a dog's life isn't that tough after all.

I don't know if it's all that water or not, but she's growing by leaps and bounds. I sometimes have to remind myself that she's only 6 months old. However, as fast as she's growing, she still hasn't grown into her enormous feet. I'm hoping to have some pictures to share with you soon.

Ripley, our other furry child, has really taken to her new sister, but sometimes we have to separate them to give Ripley a break. After all, you can stand those "young whipper snappers" chewing on your ears for just so long before it gets old.

Happy reading!
Blessings,
Elizabeth