Julia London's Blog, page 76

American Idol

[image error]Okay so I've been watching Idol since the very end  of Carrie Underwood's season. And some years the show is decidedly more interesting than others.  Both the talent and the judges waxing and waning as the seasons roll along.  But this year… well, I've already talked about how much I love the new judges.  Particularly Steven Tyler.  And Ryan Seacrest is like a new man.  He's so much more relaxed this year (which makes one wonder if he and Simon truly didn't get along).  In general, everyone seems to be having more fun.

But even if all of that weren't calling me to the show, the talent this year would be.  There are just so many interesting people this year.   And with the exception of two weeks ago (people what were you thinking? ) the voting has been spot on.   And the people that needed to go have gone.  So I thought I'd do a quick run-down on my favs.  And then you guys can chime in with yours!

In no particular order (because I haven't committed whole-heartedly to anyone yet) here are my favorites.[image error]

James  Durbin.  We've established by now that I love my rockers.  And James is right up there with Adam for me.   Maybe even more so because he just seems so at home on stage.  Last week's fiery piano version of Saturday Night's All Right for Fighting was great fun. Enough so that I even went back and watched it again.  Over all he's talented and so much fun to watch.

[image error]Scotty McCreery.   Dude can sing.  And every time he hits those low low notes I forget he's just a kid.  What a voice.  I'll be shocked to the tips of my toenails if he doesn't show up in Nashville's who's who regardless of what happens on Idol.   WOW.  When he sang Garth Brooks I actually sighed.  Me.  An old lady.  SIGHED.

Casey Abrams.  How can you not love this guy.  I was so moved by his reaction to the save last week.  And I was already impressed with his musical talent.   Not sure if his voice is as strong as some of the others, but he does keep me entertained.  Good song selection is going to be key for him, I think.[image error]

[image error]Haley Reinhart.  Not sure what it is about her, but I like her.  Loved the piano crawling (what was it with the piano last week) version of Benny and the Jets.  And her voice is so much fun when she goes all bluesy.  Definitely an interesting contestant.

Lauren Alaina.  She's a country rocker at heart.  And I really love listening to her sing.  Her stage presence is amazing for someone so young.  And her smile is infectious.  I'll admit I'm leaning more[image error] toward the guys at the moment, but I think with the right song choices she could really shine.

The rest of the group is equally talented—and could easily win.  Jacob has a fabulous voice.  Paul has crazy charisma.  Stephano is sort of a throwback to the Rat Pack.  And Pia has a heck of a set of pipes.   But none of them call to me in the same way as the five I've mentioned above.

So what about you?  Are you watching?  Do you have favorites yet?  Spill.

P.S.  Did any of you see Steven Tyler on the Country Music Awards on Sunday?  He sang with Carrie Underwood. It totally rocked (literally and figuratively).

Turning Points

I was in Dallas last week speaking at the Dallas Area Romance Writer's Conference (which is a great, small, conference by the way).  I talked about the stuff I do to keep myself sane in this batshit crazy business, and let me tell you, it's an ongoing process.  Things are changing so quickly that you really have to have a center or you can get all twisted up.  But you know, with every turn in the road, there is a new path, a new door, and something new to be discovered and experienced.

I speak from experience.  I was thinking back to some significant turning points in my life, and was kind of surprised that I've had a few really good ones.  All of them have led to another phase of my life that may I recall with fondness.  That doesn't mean they were easy.  It just means that hindsight is very rosy .

Here are my top five turning points in chronological order:

1.  Leaving home and moving away.  I only went to Lubbock at first, but I left the nest and I never returned.  I have been living my own life, my own way, since I was eighteen.

2.  Moving to Washington, DC:  Perhaps I should have said graduating from college, or getting my first professional job in Dallas, but that move set the course of my first career, and I have to say, it was not only successful, it taught me more than anything I ever could have learned in a classroom.   Not all good, but mostly

3.  Marriage.  Oh, vey.  I don't need to explain to anyone here how marriage changes you for better and for worse, right?  For me, it uncovered a whole other side of me.

4.  Selling my first book.  It was the Devil's Love, and I honestly walked into my second career knowing absolutely nothing about it.  I wanted to write a book.  I tried to write one, and then I sent it off.  That was a blind turning point.  I had no idea where it would lead me.

5.  I would like to say getting an 8 month old baby was the greatest turning point of my life, and it was.  I was giving temporary custody of a child for three and a half years, and that event had the most profound impact on me as a person.  It was, in a word, phenomenal.

What are your top five turning points?  Or three?  Or the Big One?

Today's Nook Goes to….

Nissie's Nook!

NISSIE!!!!

Congratulations! I have an email to go out to you shortly with all the details on the Nook and the $50 B&N gift card, and we, the sisters of whine, hope you enjoy it!

For all of those who were not winners, this time…. there's always a next time.

Do Not Mess with My Disorganization

Author's note: While you are reading this, I am speaking at the DARA conference in Dallas. Please forgive my absence

I have been doing this little exercise where I keep track of my time each day. It turns out that I spend more time writing blogs and posting on Facebook and Twitter, and answering mail than I actually do writing. Now, some of that is because I am writing a first draft, and that's the hardest. When I start editing (hopefully next week), that ratio will change.

I spend about two hours "working out." That's about an hour of actual physical activity surrounded by stretching, and looking for my iPod, and getting Moose ready to go out, then icing my (still-injured) calf and entering what I've done in my little exercise journal, and so forth. It does not include the shower. That's another thirty minutes. Oh, and I take an hour and a half for lunch. But I try and read something every day. I mean, something other than People Magazine (which can take a good thirty minutes, depending on who is on the cover).

I have discovered that contrary to my view of myself, I am not very organized. I kind of ping around from one thing to another. As a result, I have started scheduling my day like I used to do when I was working. I am doing this to make sure I get in enough writing time. Things were going pretty good until zap, Daylight Savings time started.

Why, why, why, did they move it back?? Now the sun doesn't come up until 7:30 or so, and I am sleeping later, and it is not working for me! Recently I have been in places where they don't have daylights savings time, and I LIKE having the sun come up early. I am more productive in the morning. I need more of that. I am mad at the universe for messing with my disorganization. I am mad that I don't have an alarm clock. If I could vote, I would say, get rid of daylight savings time and give me back my mornings. I need them!

How do you feel about daylight savings time? Take it or leave it? How organized are you? Do you know how much time you spend doing what your really MUST do as opposed to what you want to do?

CELEBRITY SIGHTINGS

Last week I promised I'd spill the details of my coat closet encounter with Cary Grant, so here it is:  During the summer between my junior and senior years of college, I got a part-time job with TWA in passenger relations at JFK airport.  I worked in the domestic terminal assisting arriving and departing passengers and was basically a walking information counter.  Our uniforms were tres spiffy–designed by Ralph Lauren, no less!–and the job was an absolute blast.  Part of our job (which was really a perk, if you ask me) was escorting VIP's. And that's where I met Cary Grant.

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The legendary Cary Grant

He and his wife Barbara were catching the afternoon flight to LA and my assignment (along with a senior passenger relations rep) was to escort the couple from the fancy schmancy Ambassador Club to their first class seats onboard the 747 (a tough job, but hey, someone had to do it!).  Now, company policy was that we weren't supposed to ask celebs for their autographs, and I'd managed to refrain up to that point, not asking Cher, Ryan O'Neal, Farrah Fawcett, Muhammad Ali, Raquel Welsh or Peter Falk to name a few, but really–Cary Freakin' Grant??  How many chances does one get to meet him?  What am I, made of stone?

So there I am, in the fancy schmancy Ambassador Club, and OMG, there's Cary Grant.  Wearing those trademark black glasses, his silver hair perfect, wearing a white dress shirt and light gray trousers, looking utterly perfect and oozing class and debonair charm.  His wife is stunning and wearing some gorgeous dark blue ensemble that undoubtedly cost more than my car (this was back when people actually dressed up to travel, especially in first class), but really who cares about what she's wearing when Cary Freakin' Grant is standing there?!

The other passenger relations rep chats up Mrs. Grant, leaving me to chat up the legend himself.  And naturally, I'm completely professional.  I nearly faint and breathlessly gush, "Ohmygosh, Mr. Grant, I am your hugest fan.  Arsenic and Old Lace is one of my favorite movies of ALL TIME.  Do you think I could possibly have your autograph?"  Smooth–I'm telling you, I was reaaaalllly smooth.

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Cary Grant in Arsenic and Old Lace

He leans closer to me and says IN THAT VOICE WITH THAT ACCENT!, "Well all right, but I don't want to give it to everyone.  Let's go in the coat closet."

Since there isn't a person on the planet who would argue with that logic, into the coat closet we went.  Now you must understand that this being the fancy schmancy Ambassador Club, the coat closet is a walk-in and a pretty good size–kind of long and skinny, probably about 8'X12' so it's not like we're crammed into something the size of a Porta Potty (darn!).  Being the walking info counter I am, I carry a clipboard with a printout of the day's flight information.  I quickly turn the paper over and present it to him with my pen, all while gawking at him in my most professional manner.  The conversation goes like this:

Carey Freakin' Grant–What's your name?

Most Professional Me: Jacquie

(He writes To Jackie then signs his name and hands me the clipboard).

MPM–Thank you so much, Mr. Grant.  But, um, you spelled my name wrong. (well, I had to say SOMETHING to keep the conversation going!)

CFG (looking startled)–Really? (takes clipboard back and says IN THAT VOICE WITH THAT ACCENT!)–How do you spell your name?

I spell it for him, slowly as to drag out our closet time together (why didn't I think to say my name was Jacqueline??)  As I do, he crosses out Jackie and spells it correctly, then for emphasis adds a couple exclamation points.

CFG–(IN THAT VOICE WITH THAT ACCENT!) Why do you spell your name like that?

MPM–there was an actress my mom liked who spelled it that way**.

** (note–I'm 99% sure this is what I said, certainly it's what I wanted to say, but I may have forgotten how to speak English, so there's a chance I merely blubbered and drooled on his shoe—which was a perfectly shined black leather Oxford, btw).

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Me and Cary in the coat closet. Yup, that's us. Uh huh. Definitely us.

While we were in the coat closet, we collected his garment bag.  Then with CFG's garment filled with CFG's clothes folded over my arm, I escorted him from the fancy schmancy Ambassador club to his first class seat (his wife followed with the other rep).  We made small talk, he was incredibly charming, and I could have listened to him talk for hours.  I still have that autograph, along with the others I collected during my time at TWA–Brooke Shields, Timothy Hutton, Dustin Hoffman to name a few.  All of whom were delightful and charming.

But none of them were Cary Freakin' Grant.

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Cary and his wife Barbara. Photo taken around the time I met him.

So–have you ever met a celebrity?  Were you calm, cool, and professional like me (cough, cough), or did you blubber, drool and gawk?  Is there a celeb you'd love to meet?  If you met him/her what would say?

Off to the Faire!

I haven't been to a Renaissance Faire since college, so I'm really looking forward to Saturday, when I'm going to the Sherwood Forest Faire with my writing partner Aaron, his wife, and our kids. We studied the Renaissance not too long ago, so I know Catherine will get a kick out of it, and the littlest one will be enamored of those giant turkey legs (yes, giant turkey legs are my primary memory of my last faire — that and the jousting).

So, I was poking around on the website and found this: "Authenticity

While mixing medieval with renaissance, history with fantasy, and when absolutely necessary, providing a concealed modern convenience (i.e., flushing toilets) we seek to be the real thing and to provide as authentic an aesthetic as possible." Then I followed the picture links and found a green fairy and a puck-like fairy. Not that I'm complaining, but I'm thinking the lack of authenticity goes beyond flushing toilets. Or maybe I'm just daft about that whole are-fairies-real-thing?

But seriously, though, I'm really looking forward to some escapism. The entertainment line-up sounds amazing, as does the shopping (will NOT buy, will NOT buy, okay, I'll probably buy….). There's theater and jousting and a special kids section. And for the last two days it's been cool around Austin, so it's possible we won't melt into piles of goo by the time the day's over. Always a plus!

So how about y'all? Any RenFaire fans out there? Any advice for a novice? What do we want to be sure not to miss? And great stories to share?

On the Hunt!

House-hunting, that is. I think all of the Whine Sisters have had a major move or remodel in the past year or two, and I guess it's my turn. In 2002-3, we took a chance and moved from our little Massachusetts college town to Michigan for the husband's job. After a year in the greater Detroit area (Canton), we knew it wasn't quite for us, husband got a great new offer, and we moved back. We chose a new town based on proximity to family, school system, and "only" a forty minute drive to my husband's work. Lucky for me, I can write anywhere. [image error]

Cut seven years and three dozen or so major snowstorms (and gas price hikes) down the road, and that forty minute drive has become the bane of someone's existence around the Erwin house. Our youngest (the violinist) is about to graduate from high school, so no need for that fancy school system with the award-winning orchestra. Proximity to family is nice, but we still see them once in awhile, and the husband drives to work five (occasionally six) days a week. Better to be forty minutes from family (some might argue, much better) than forty minutes from work. We've decided to buy a new (to us) house![image error]

I'm loving the search. I'm obsessed with finding the perfect house, and hitting all the open houses, and discussing floor plans, layouts, decor, new furniture. I haven't gotten around to the harsh reality of packing yet, so it's all fun and poking around other people's houses. My must-haves? A lovely new kitchen, multiple bathrooms, and at least one with a big tub I can soak in. My husband doesn't care much about the tub. He wants an open floor plan, space for entertaining, and maybe a cool area to set up a man-cave. Pool table, bar, big screen TV. Oh, and maybe a private spacious backyard surrounded by trees. Yep. We both know what we want– in our dreams. Finding the reality, in our price range, not as easy. But we'll do it![image error]

My Realtor friend thinks we should just build our own. I'm not sure. We don't want the wait, the hassle, and it's hard to find new development in our preferred CT town. I'm pretty sure we can find something that's ready for us to move right into and make our own. Something with character, history, and maybe some recently completed renovations.

What's your moving experience? What do you love most about your house? What did you think you needed, but find you could do without? What don't you love? Any tips for house-hunting?

Messy Monday Miscellanea

To start off this week, news from around Kathleen's globe…..

Starting like, yesterday Lindsay Lohan is dropping the Lohan moniker in a desperate effort to be like all the other cool folks, unfortunately this also turns Lilo into very simply "Li,", yes, the name that all felons wants to be known as is "Li."

From boingboing, a hilarious review of a new much-hyped iphone app Color. 

The NY Daily News has an expose on male celebs losing their locks.  I've always loved the less hirstute version of Bruce Willis.  And I think Hugh Laurie recedes very nicely. 

Other than that, I spent the weekend doing taxes (THEY'RE DONE!!), and cleaned up the yard (NOT DONE! TOO COLD!). 

All you sisters get your nook on because this is the last week in the contest!  Comment to win.  Tell me who's balding nicely, what Lilo's nickname should be, and if you could design a silly iphone app, what would it be?  Alternatively, feel free to just complain about Monday, taxes, or the weather.

 

 

 

 

Once Upon A Time In Austin

Okay so once upon a time, there were three writers who lived in Austin, Texas.   Two of those writers were already good friends and critique partners.   The third writer was new to the whole thing.  She'd only just finished her first novel, joined RWA and was beginning Agent Quest.  And while the whole journey was exciting, it was also extremely terrifying.  And she decided she needed wiser heads on her side.

So she watched and listened, and soon decided that the two friends were definitely the kinds of people she wanted to hang out with.  Women who were decidedly in the know when it came to writing.   So in a rather boldfaced move, she approached the two women and quite literally begged them to have mercy upon her and let her join the group.

Thankfully, being such lovely people—they acquiesced.  And the rest as they say is history.  The three were all published within the next year or so.  And many many many great stories both on the page and in their lives were born as a result of the union.

But none were so wonderful as the two books that bear all three of the authors' names.   You see, it was a crazy dream they had to write an anthology together.  And a wild night at RWA national that conceived the idea.   Bad Boys from Hell—literally.

And from that original alliance and that wine-fueled evening at RWA came Hell With the Ladies and Hell on Heels.   Anthologies with stories by Kathleen O'Reilly, Julie Kenner and me.  Almost thirteen years ago I asked them if I could be in their group. And we're still going strong.  And I am so amazingly lucky for the opportunity!   (Oh and… there was another amazing woman in that Austin RWA group at the same time—her name was Julia London).

Maybe next up we should try for an anthology with all the Whine Sisters.  Wouldn't that be fun????

Six Cellos, a Bass, NPR, and Alec Baldwin

I want to thank everyone for all their good wishes last week on the trip to Kansas City. Leslie, I want to tell you that even as I was reading your comment reading the Kansas City St. Patrick's Day parade, we were stalled on Broadway, waiting for all the pedestrians in the funny green hats to pass. I have pictures to prove it.

St. Patrick's Day in Kansas City

However, to start in Kansas City would be wrong, and so for posterity, I'm going to recount our trip, not all 40 hours in the car, because well, someday you will all see the movie version – a sort of romantic dramedy wherein blood was spilled.

To set the scene, we ended up driving a burnt orange Dodge Caravan. All of my fellow University of Texas Whine Bitches Sisters, will start snickering now, because I did not go to UT. I went to A&M, their arch rival, which does not have ugly burnt orange colors, but very classy maroon and white instead. But did Budget (who was donating the van) have a classy maroon? Oh, no, because you know, everybody wants to drive a classy maroon van and NOBODY WANTS TO DRIVE AN UGLY BURNT ORANGE VAN.

So, here's the pics:

the UT-Mobile

On the first day, me and the Hubster left at 4am. In the morning. It was very dark. I packed a pillow and a blanket in the UGLY BURNT ORANGE DODGE CARAVAN and I dozed for most of the first three hours. The Hubster is not a fan of my driving (all females whose hubsters are a fan of their driving, please raise their hand. Not any? I rest my case.)

Somewhere in Pennsylvania, I awoke to the sounds of NPR. My family likes to tease the Hubster about his NPR addiction. The boring stories, the hushed voices, the Saturday Night Live skits. And it goes on, because frankly, if you can't make a joke out of NPR, then you have no sense of humor at all.

Eventually I talked the Hubster into switching to Classical Vinyl and also Classical Rewind on the Satellite radio. It was as we were in Hour Six, driving into West Virigina, that we began to argue about who was a better guitarist, Frampton or Clapton. I very patiently explained that while Peter Frampton was a very talented guitarist, he had no soul, whereas Clapton was all soul. It was somewhere past the Chesapeake watershed (Hour Seven) that we devolved into a Harry Met Sally montage of all the reasons that our marriage was a bad idea.

After food and a bathroom break, our marriage was miraculously saved (we both agreed that Van Halen was better with David Lee Roth than Sammy Haggar) and also agreed that we both never really got into the Stones nor the Beatles like the rest of America. Also, the Hubster loves Flock of Seagulls. How can you not fall in love with someone who loves a band that is that cheesy?

By the time we got into Ohio (hour fourteen), the marriage was back on solid foundation. We made two reservations for that first night. One in St. Louis (Gateway to the West), and also in Kansas City (Heart of America). The plan was that if we were about to pass out from exhaustion or death, then we would stay the night in St. Louis. However, by the time late afternoon was approaching, we were back laughing at NPR (it begins to repeat, so the second time we heard Wait, Wait, Don't Tell me it was funnier than the first) and decided to drive onward to Kansas City. I wrested the steering wheel from the Hubster's hands (the darker side of chivalry) and insisted on driving until we stopped for dinner. Instead of sleeping, which any smart person would do, the Hubster took a conference call from work. Yes, because you know, after driving for sixteen hours on four hours of sleep, the smart thing to do is to talk business.

Somewhere during Hour Eighteen, my eyelids began to hurt. I saw fuzzy lights in the dark, and was fading in and out of consciousness. The Hubster (on his fifth Starbucks cappuccino) was having a one-sided argument with Click and Clack from Car Talk.

Finally we arrived. It was nearly midnight when we pulled into the Kansas City hotel and began to unload the instruments. Now, the mother of the one bass (not the actual birth mother of the bass, but she was the mother of the bass player who owned the bass instrument) had suggested that we book a room on the first floor. We forgot and ended up on floor seven. Some of you will think, so what? Well, we were at the Hampton Inn, so there was no bellman, no bellwoman, nor bellchildren, so once again, it was only me, the Hubster, six cellos, one bass, and one violin. So, me and the Hubster carried six cellos (two that were on wheels and four that had to be hefted), one bass (no wheels), one violin (wheels not necessary), and one tux (long story) to floor seven — all after driving for twenty hours straight, on four hours of sleep (I had dozed, but the Hubster was running on fumes at this point).

During this unloading, we 'debated' the proper instrument handling techniques, and the most efficient way to roll a baggage cart. It is moments such as this that really prove the solidness of a marriage. After the instruments were all packed away safely in the room, we fell into the sweet arms of Morpheus where all arguments are forgotten, where NPR is only a distant droning hum, and where all female drivers are the greatest in the world.

The next morning, life was SO much better. We found a great breakfast place. Classic Cup in Country Club Plaza, Leslie, if you haven't checked it out, try the buttermilk pancakes. YUM! After breakfast, we got coffee and shuffled the instruments back in the car and to the Marriot near the Convention Center. It was on this particular juncture that we got stuck behind the St. Patrick's Day Parade traffic.

The rest of Thursday was an easy day. We walked around the Plaza and watched the news and ate and rested and laughed, and it was awesome. Friday was performance day, so we had to get up at the CRACK OF DAWN (not really, but Jeez, it felt like it), and watch the kids play. We thought they did awesome. I cried (as mothers are wont to do), and then we listened to the next orchestra play, and they weren't nearly as good, and we left with light hearts and spirits soaring. After that, we listened to the afternoon orchestras and our hearts no longer soared. Gotta say, there are a LOT of really talented musicians in this country – not just my daughter, which prior to this experience, I would have told you could never be true. However, we went into the awards ceremony, still with light hearts, but now spirits were sitting somewhere around 'Oh, God, PLEASE!'

In the end, the kids scored fifth of seventh. Now, some of you will think, FIFTH? Seriously? However, these kids are awesome, and I'm uploading a video to prove it.

Hoe-Down

After the awards ceremony, the kids were not in that much of a mood to party, and instead sat in the lobby and discussed the judges comments. The word 'discussed' is a respectful word since not all the terms to the judges were complimentary. Actually, it was only one judge that caused problems, much like every Russian judge in Olympic ice skating history. However, it was a lot of good feedback, and when the kids return in a couple of years, they will be better prepared, they will be stronger, they will be better. It is losing that defines our biggest moments, not winning.

On Saturday, we loaded the instruments back in the UGLY BURNT ORANGE Dodge Caravan, and hit the road once again. This time, we did the trip over two ten hour days and it was a lot of fun. On Sunday morning, I called the house and talked to my daughter to see how they were holding up, and she talked about the Alec Baldwin fundraiser at the high school the night before (you were wondering about the Alec Baldwin part, weren't you?). He had generously agreed to do a talk, interview, Q&A at the high school, with all the proceeds going to the arts programs there. Near the end of the program, the bus with the orchestra kids had pulled in, and they got to watch, and afterwards my daughter and one of her friends had gone to the music room where he had been stowed after the show (our High School has no green room). The man didn't blink at the two girls. He answered their questions, congratulated them on their achievement, and in general, acted very graciously. I was impressed.

So, that is my story. The Hubster and I celebrate twenty years of marriage in May, and after this trip, I feel very confident that we can celebrate another twenty years, and I'm very proud of my daughter.

I appreciate all the good wishes and hey, we'll be driving back to Kansas City in two years, and this time, we're going to kick some orchestra ASS!!!

So, any other good road trip stories? Are you a fan of them or not? Do you listen to NPR, or (like me), do you secretly mock them? And remember, we are in the home stretch for the Nook contest! Comment to win!!