Interlude
Kate sipped at her latte, staring out the window. The sun reflected off the building across the street, blinding her. She enjoyed the brilliance for eleven seconds (she counted) before turning and looking in the other direction.
That young woman was at the café, like usual. She came every day—she and the café owner were involved in a romance. Or so it seemed to Kate. Their body language gave them away. This afternoon, she had her cute little boy with her.
Kate smiled at the little boy, who made faces at her as he ate a croissant and swung his feet, and then returned her attention to her computer. She had a blog to hatch.
She began to type, but then deleted the words. She tapped out some more words. Pausing, she looked at them, lips pursed. After a moment, she shook her head and deleted them too.
The man across from her leaned into her field of vision. "Are you okay?"
She blinked at him. "Don't I look okay?"
"You look like you're in pain."
She thought about that for four seconds (she counted that too) before nodding. "That's a fair assessment."
"Are you doing homework?"
"I didn't do homework when I was in school. Why would I do it now?"
"I don't know. You look studious."
Kate pointed at his laptop. "Are you doing homework?"
"I'm on Facebook. Is that what you're doing?"
"No, I'm working."
"What are you working on?"
"Why all these questions?" she countered suspiciously.
"I'm doing a survey of what people do in cafés."
"Liar."
"It could be true." He shrugged. "Are you going to tell me what you do?"
"I'm a romance author."
"Liar." His brow furrowed. "Wait. Are you lying?"
"It could be true." She shot him a Mona Lisa smile and returned to her blog. She knew exactly what she was going to write about now.
Pendleton, Oregon
The Magic Man and I made a trip up north to Pendleton, Orgeon. My man had business up there, and I tagged along to keep him in line. I make an excellent chaperon.
My summation of Pendleton: it's weird.
The town is famous for its Pendleton wool shirts and blankets as well as whiskey. Mostly it revolves around a rodeo, called the Round Up, that happens every year. They live for those four days at the end of summer. Aside from the Round Up, not much happens in town except drinking, as far as I could tell. And why not, when beer is only $2.50 a pint?
The migratory habits of the average Pendletonian bar hopper is fascinating. They travel in packs, running en masse from one bar to the next. One second a bar is completely filled with people, the next they're all stampeding out the door and down the street to the next one. My Magic Man and I tried to run with the pack but they saw through our disguises and culled us.
Freezing.
It was icy and cold in Pendleton. I'm a tropical bird, not a penguin. Ice and Kate do not mix. End of story.
Writing.
I went to the only coffee shop in town to write for a couple hours and landed smack in the middle of the regulars. Coffee shop regulars are always awesome AND they provide good fodder for characters. One day when one of my heroines says "I should have stayed with him, because then we could have grown old and resentful together" you'll know it was from my brief trip to this Oregonian cow town.
Dear Kate.
The Magic Man and I were taking a post-dinner, freezing stroll down Main Street when suddenly a young woman called out to us, asking us to keep her company. One thing led to another, and suddenly she was crying on my shoulder, lamenting about her cheating ex-fiancé and how she was never going to find anyone who appreciated her for who she was and how she hated the town. She wailed, "I don't want to be here anymore!"
So I said, "Then leave."
She stopped sobbing and blinked. "What?"
"Leave." I shrugged. "Go someplace else for a while. You can always come back."
"That's the best advice anyone's ever given me!" She threw her arms around me and clutched me tight. When she let go (finally), she said, "You remind me of Cameron Diaz in The Holiday."
Needless to say, I'm thinking of starting an advice column. My working title: Buck Up and Deal, Plus Other Words of Wisdom.
Your turn.
Tell me where your dream destination is and why. Go.
They Say It's Your Birthday
Not mine, but my sister's, and to help her celebrate I flew my ass to New York for an epic week of celebration that involved drinking, eating, and playing skee-ball. There was also much dancing—on top of bars, tables, and various other surfaces.
I don't have pictures of any of that. Trust me—it's better that way.
But I do have a few from her actual birthday that you may enjoy viewing. Where better to start than with my sister and me?
Aren't we cute?
Like I said, it was her birthday. This is what 28 looks like, apparently:
Frankly, I don't remember my 28th birthday, but I'm pretty sure it didn't look this aggressive.
For her birthday, I really wanted to have a Crif Dog. Being a good sport and loving sister, she acquiesced to my desire. I ordered a hot dog wrapped in bacon, with cream cheese, green onions, and hot sauce. I was VERY excited about it.
The hot dog was frickin' amazing. I would have gotten another one, but my sister pointed out that we didn't have time in our schedule for a triple bypass. Next time.
After hot dogs, I took my sister for a trip to the moon.
She rocks the space suit. You should see her hop along the lunar landscape.
The week also included other fun, non-birthday related events. Dinner with my Magic Man's family and lunch with friends, most notably JB Lynn. Usually when I have lunch with JB, there's at least one sighting of a murdered body (suspense authors see corpses everywhere). This time, not so. It was strange. I did, however, almost get arrested while I waited for her, so that's something.
If you were going to celebrate your birthday for a week (and I highly recommend that you do), what sort of activities would you include?
Leaving on a Jet Plane
I'm on the airplane, headed to New York.
The in-flight movie is Dolphin Tales. I haven't been watching, but I just tuned in for one scene. What's the world coming to when Morgan Freeman makes prosthetics for sea mammals?
The woman across the aisle from me plays solitaire on her iPad. She's tall and blond and Spanish, dressed in head-to-toe black. Stunning, really. I wonder who she is, what she does, and where she's going. She looks like a Bond heroine. She's making notes on a napkin with a blue ballpoint pen.
There's an empty seat separating me from the woman sharing my row. Good thing—she just had a sneezing fit. She's also on her iPad. Her nails are painted a gunmetal blue and she's wearing a black and gray striped sweater that matches the socks I have on. I want to offer them to her to complete her outfit but she doesn't look like she'd appreciate the thought.
A child screams, pulling me out of my train of thought. I turn my music up, and Marvin Gaye urges me to get it on. In my mind's eye, I picture my Magic Man serenading me, his gyrating hips giving Elvis a run for his money.
My companion for this trip is Whistler, the new Kindle Santa brought me. He's loaded with over a hundred books. It's a giddy thing, having so many books available at a whim.
I have to admit, though, it's not like holding pages in your hands. Whistler doesn't curl up with me the same way a ratty paperback does. He's not as warm or soft, and he doesn't smell pulpy or like mildew. Still, it's the wave of the future, and I'm hopping on. I've started releasing new digital books for you to enjoy, hopefully one every few weeks.
The latest: Perfect for You.
It's fitting that Perfect for You is out this week. It's my sister's birthday week, and it's her favorite story of everything I've ever written. She's been pestering me to publish it for years.
So here it is. Read an excerpt. Buy the book for your Kindle or Nook.
I'm going back to the Lee Childs book I'm reading on Whistler. Happy trails.
Auld Lang Syne
Have you ever heard anyone sing Auld Lang Syne? I don't mean in a movie or on the radio, but in real life. Like you were at a party, and at the stroke of midnight on New Years the crowd broke out in the song.
I never have, and I've heard a lot of things in my lifetime. Not saying that it doesn't happen. Maybe I'm not hanging out in the right places. Maybe it's not a California thing but is totally sung in Kansas. I don't know.
Why do I care? Shrug. I was just wondering. My Magic Man's insane curiosity is probably rubbing off on me.
Anyway...
It's the Year of of the Dragon, yo! Energy and spirit rule this year.
Do I really believe in the Chinese zodiac? I shrug again and say, "Meh." But that doesn't mean we can't decide take the fire of the dragon and apply it to life. I'm making that my main goal this year: I will approach things with passion. Instead of coasting casually, I'm going to attack what I do with enthusiasm and intensity. My writing, my workouts—heck, even hanging out with friends.
But I have other, more succinct goals as well. Five, to be exact.
1. Write a letter.
A real letter—by hand. When I was a kid I wrote letters with a ferocity that would have intimidated a Victorian. Then email came along... I don't remember the last time I actually penned a letter to someone. But I have cute cupcake stationary, and I'm going to physically handwrite a few letters this year.
2. Take more pictures.
I begged my sister to borrow her digital SLR, but it's been collecting dust on the floor next to my work chair for months. It's time to break it out and start taking photos. You get a different perspective on things from behind the lens.
Yes, I'll probably subject you guys to more picto-blogs. Be forewarned.
3. Sing more often in French.
It just makes me happy.
4. Wear my tutu more often.
I can't remember the last time I wore my tutu. What's that about? Clearly I need to reorganize my priorities and get in touch with what's important once again.
5. Take an art class, even one online.
I can't remember the last time I painted either. I have incentive too—my Magic Man gave me the most awesome art kit for Christmas. I'm going to learn a new technique or two, try my new oil pastels, maybe even sketch a thing or two.
What sort of new things are you going to try this year? What do you want to do more of? What are you going to attack with fire and passion?