Julia London's Blog, page 93

Chi! Chi! Chi! Le! Le! Le!

I have been completely absorbed in the Chilean miners catastrophe and rescue.  I was on tenterhooks waiting for the first rescue, then balled like a toddler when they brought the first guy up, and then again when the last one came up.  At first, I didn't understand why I was so absorbed in it, but now I think I do:  I needed to be reminded of the indomitable human spirit.

Has there been anything more joyous and more life-affirming than these thirty-three guys and their rescue in recent memory?  Has there been anything more awe-inspiring then they way they pulled together to survive?  Has any other global event inspired quite as much as this?

I think of myself in that situation, and I think I would have lost it.  I imagine myself as that shift supervisor, who started assigning tasks, giving them something to do, and I think I would have been void of any ideas.  I don't know, I just know that I am humbled by what happened to them and the way they survived, and that small nation's ability to bring them up, safe and sound.

It also made me realize that no matter what I have been through, I have not been trapped a mile down in the middle of a mountain for two months.  I have not had to live my days wondering if I would ever seen my family or the sun again.  And if they could endure that with such a great spirit, then I can endure with a great spirit, too.  I am very serious when I say it turned my thinking around.  I am no longer thinking about the doomed economy, or the horrible political scene in this country, or worrying about what will happen while Hubot is away, or if my books will sell.  I am thinking about how grateful I am to be alive and to have what I have, and hope for the best.  And for that, I have to thank Chile.

Chi! Chi! Chi! Le! Le! Le!

FUNNY THEN, NOT FUNNY NOW

My son posted this Facebook status yesterday: If I could write a letter to myself and have had it delivered two minutes ago, it would read "don't use your windshield sprayer with your windows down, dummy."

I had to laugh because I once did something similar—not to myself, but to my husband (who unfortunately for him is usually the victim of the goofball things I do).   When we lived on Long Island and our son was a baby, I would drive my husband to the train station every morning and stop in front of the little commuter coffee shop so DH could go inside and buy us each a coffee before heading to the platform.  On this one particular day, there he was, walking back to the car, holding two cups of coffee, wearing his spiffy suit and tie, and for reasons I'll never understand I decided that was the perfect time to wash away the dead bug on the windshield.  I hit the sprayer, and OMG.  Wiper fluid sprayed all over him.  He stood there, frozen with disbelief, this shocked look on his face.  I was horrified and clapped my hands on my face like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone.  It's funny now—but not funny then.

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This is exactly what I looked like.

My other big Funny Now, Not Funny Then tale once again involves my poor DH.  We were having company over for dinner and I'd been cooking all day.  Hubby was dressed in his spiffy sweater and dress pants, ready to receive guests who were due in about an hour.  In my haste to clean up the sink, I shoved too many potato and onion peels down the disposal—and clogged it.  Hubby was leaning over the sink, peering deep into the disposal hole when I—again for reasons I'll never understand—hit the switch.  That sucker erupted like Mount Vesuvius, plastering him with a veritable crapload of peelings.  Oh. My. God.  I did my Macaulay Culkin imitation again and apologized profusely–all while trying not to laugh. Luckily my DH is a VERY patient man.  He calmly wiped his face, fixed the disposal, took another shower, and for reasons that escape me, still loves me.  One good bonus from the Disposal Escapade—it became a scene in a book.

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Mount Vesuvius, aka My Sink Disposal

Do you have any Funny Now, Not Funny Then moments?  If not, how about something that made you laugh?  Leave a comment this week (Monday thru Friday) and you're eligible for this week's prize donated by Whine Sister Kathleen O'Reilly—a $25 Amazon gift certificate!  Winner will be announced on Saturday!

Books, patios–they go together like…something togethery…

Here it is almost Halloween and I'm so tan it's insane. And, no, I haven't been patronizing our local tanning salon. I've been doing full-day stints in the sun for four solid days (Thank you, Christopher Columbus for this lovely long weekend!)

What was I doing, you ask? Playing with the kids? Relaxing with a book? Alas, no. I was schlepping rocks.

Yes, you heard that right. I. Was. Schlepping. Rocks. Three cubic yards of fill sand, five cubic yards of decomposed granite, and 3 tons of Arizona flagstone.

I'm not only tan, I'm sore.

Why, you ask (other than insanity, which is a good guess). Because I decided I wanted a flagstone path and a flagstone patio. And the husband decided he wanted a Boules court (we watched the fabulous A Year in Provence miniseries years ago, and ever since he's wanted one. Now he has one. Stay tuned for reports as my husband surely develops into the number one Boules player in…well, in our culdesac…)

Here's what the nice landscape supply people delivered first (I can't believe I only got a picture of the granite!) The picture at the top of the blog is what (that chunk) of the yard looked like. Thankfully we had the foresight not to have them sod the area. But still, we had to dig down 3-4 inches for the patio and the path in order to set the flagstones. Ideally, we would have done that for the boules court, too…but the ground is clay! Yes, clay! and it was hard as, well, a rock. And we couldn't manage. Thus, my husband's brilliant idea to use edging. And voila!

The patio still isn't done yet (it WILL be by tomorrow night. It will, it will!!), but the path looks great, I think. Went from dirt to this:

It's hard work (as my falling asleep before midnight–shock!–and my muscles will attest), but there's something satisfying about creating something through hard, physical labor. It's like the rush of finishing a book, only different. I'm glad we're doing it. It's been a long time since I've built something like this, and I have to admit I'm feeling a little self-satisfied. (Hopefully my smugness isn't premature. Still must finish the patio, after all!)

How about you? Built anything? Landscaped? Gotten down and dirty with the manual labor? How did it make you feel?

FUNNY THEN, NOT FUNNY NOW

My son posted this Facebook status yesterday:  If I could write a letter to myself and have had it delivered two minutes ago, it would read "don't use your windshield sprayer with your windows down, dummy."

  I had to laugh because I once did something similar—not to myself, but to my husband (who unfortunately for him is usually the victim of the goofball things I do).   When we lived on Long Island and our son was a baby, I would drive my husband to the train station every morning and stop in front of the little commuter coffee shop so DH could go inside and buy us each a coffee before heading to the platform.  On this one particular day, there he was, walking back to the car, holding two cups of coffee, wearing his spiffy suit and tie, and for reasons I'll never understand I decided that was the perfect time to wash away the dead bug on the windshield.  I hit the sprayer, and OMG.  Wiper fluid sprayed all over him.  He stood there, frozen with disbelief, this shocked look on his face.  I was horrified and clapped my hands on my face like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone.  It's funny now—but not funny then.

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This is exactly what I looked like.

  My other big Funny Now, Not Funny Then tale once again involves my poor DH.  We were having company over for dinner and I'd been cooking all day.  Hubby was dressed in his spiffy sweater and dress pants, ready to receive guests who were due in about an hour.  In my haste to clean up the sink, I shoved too many potato and onion peels down the disposal—and clogged it.  Hubby was leaning over the sink, peering deep into the disposal hole when I—again for reasons I'll never understand—hit the switch.  That sucker erupted like Mount Vesuvius, plastering him with a veritable crapload of peelings.  Oh. My. God.  I did my Macaulay Culkin imitation again and apologized profusely–all while trying not to laugh. Luckily my DH is a VERY patient man.  He calmly wiped his face, fixed the disposal, took another shower, and for reasons that escape me, still loves me.  One good bonus from the Disposal Escapade—it became a scene in a book.

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Mount Vesuvius, aka My Sink Disposal

  Do you have any Funny Now, Not Funny Then moments?  If not, how about something that made you laugh?  Leave a comment this week (Monday thru Friday) and you're eligible for this week's prize donated by Whine Sister Kathleen O'Reilly—a $25 Amazon gift certificate!  Winner will be announced on Saturday!

Finally, Designers Get It Right!

Celebrity looking to hide the pregnancy, or average suburban soccer mom looking to hide those extra pounds? Designers have the look for you, from Fashion Week in Paris:

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Bumps in all the right places.

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Strategically placed folds: Not just for envelopes anymore.

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Distract the eye!

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You can't touch this!

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Delightfully drapey, but just transparent enough to keep em' guessing!

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Skeletal yet poufy in all the right places.

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Jackets as hats, the latest in style.

Aren't you glad haute couture is becoming more accessible? I think I have that hat, er, jacket. I love jacket weather, sweaters, and boots. How about you? What are you looking forward to wearing this winter?

Monday's Miscellanea

On Monday, it is a traditional PR sort of day, but I have no book to PR (book 2 is OFF to editor, YAY!), so I had to reach into my recesses and find something else to talk about. So far this AM, I have already discarded about five blog ideas. (the stock market, Carl Paladino, is the left brain killing the right brain, John Lennon's birthday, and a topic that I'll call, "What's up with the Cowboys?").

Eventually, I decided that all were boring, and thus, I'm defaulting back to my general Kathleen's Miscellanea, an amalgamation of odd topics and things that really aren't worth an entire blog post, but you might link.

And yes, since it's Monday, it's the beginning of our next contest! I'm giving away a $25 Amazon gift certificate to one lucky commenter. Comment during the week, and we pick the winner on Saturday.

So, without further ado, here's today's stuff:

Yesterday was 10/10/10, which is supposed to be a lucky day (if you believe in lucky or unlucky days). I felt no tectonic shift in my LQ (luck quotient) one way or another, so I am skeptical. Anyway have a lucky day yesterday?

Jezebel has a link to a video of two bunnies in a cup. I will say that I think the bunnies were drugged because I kept waiting for them to hop out or tump (how do you spell tump?) over, but they did not.

I missed Jane Lynch hosting Saturday Night Live on Saturday. I love Jane Lynch, I think she is so funny, but it speaks to my current Saturday Night Live apathy that I cruelly deleted it from my DVR with a care. Did anyone see? Should I regret my delete decision?
My DH and son saw The Social Network. DH was fascinated, son called it "boring." I guess the appeal of whip-fast Aaron Sorkin dialog is beyond an eleven year old boy. Perhaps if he had thrown in potty jokes?
The 33 trapped miners in Chile are nearing rescue. They've been below ground since August 5th (over two months) and I wonder what that does to your mind? Anyway, I hope they get them all out, because there are too many miners that don't get their happy endings.

And I think that's all. Happy Columbus Day and don't forget to comment!

Long Summer Nights

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And the Winner is…

First off I want to say that I love all my books.  They're like my children.  And usually the one I love the most is the one I'm writing.  But some of them do actually fall a little higher on the love them list .  And Just Breathe is one of those books.   Partly I think becasue I love the Muses.  Partly because many of the incidents that happen to Chole in the book happened to me in one form or another.   In the opening of the book, Chloe falls off of a train onto a dead man.  The idea came from a very real fear of mine.  When my daughter was a baby, we moved to Vienna (where the book is set).  And for the next three years I always worried about the steps down from the trains we traveled on and the gap between the platform and the train.   I just knew I was going to fall while carrying my precious cargo.  And while, thankfully, I never did, I did spend quite a bit of time working out exactly how to avoid it, and what I'd do if the worst were to happen to protect my child.   And from that….came Chloe's fall and Just Breathe.  Which for most of its prepublished life was untitled because we just couldn't find the right words.  And then one night I'm writing and listening to the TV behind me, and I hearFaith Hill singing "Just Breathe".   Perfect I think… and immediately fire an email off to my editor.   Who coincidentally was watching Drew Barrymore on television uttering the very same words.  "Just Breathe".   Our emails actually crossed.  True serendipity.  And the title was decided.  

Anyway, here's the back cover copy:

Former CIA agent Matthew Broussard came to Vienna to catch a killer. But when his only lead is shot dead, he is left without answers and with an injured witness in his arms. The enticing young woman may be his last chance to resolve the tragedy that still haunts his past. He cannot let her out of his sight, even if it means getting close to someone again.

For aspiring travel writer Chloe Nichols, escorting a tour group of wealthy old ladies through Europe was supposed to be anything but thrilling. Then she is rescued from an assassin's bullet by a stranger on the train–a perfectly handsome, charming stranger who saves her life with a kiss and asks her to pose as his fiancée. Chloe believes Matthew is trying to protect her, until the seductive charade becomes part of a lethal international

conspiracy in which no one is what they seem–including her captivating hero. . . .

And finally…..drum roll please… the winner!   Juli Temple!!!!

Congratulations, Juli.  I'll be emailing you shortly!

Kathleen's Most Depressing Day

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So, today (actually yesterday, I have high hopes for today) was an utterly depressing day. First of all, a letter from the IRS. A day with a letter from the IRS is never a good day. They do not write to wish you Happy Birthday. They do not write to say, "Hey, thanks for being a valued customer!" They do not even send me form letters about their privacy policy. No, they only write to tell me I owe them money.

It isn't fair. I feel like the IRS has haunted me for all my life. I am honest, hard-working, and I do my taxes with an attention to detail that would make the Treasury Secretary proud (and might I say, probably MORE attention to detail than him). Seriously, I hold back spare receipts from deductions that I leave UNCLAIMED, just in case something gets called into question. I have YEARS of tax returns downstairs in filing cabinets. Documents from houses I owned three houses ago – just in case.

My first audit was when I was twenty one. I was a waitress when I was eighteen, and the restaurant burned down, and apparently the entire restaurant got audited, and I ended up owing about $300. For a student in college, an IRS audit is a life-changing experience (and yes, someday this will probably show up in a character in a book, because it is truly a life-changing experience).

My second letter came a few years ago, when I actually overstated my income. The IRS noted the discrepancy, and decided that I was up to nefarious purpose, and said I owed them money. Eventually, I did provide all the paperwork, and got a check in return, which almost paid for the stamps and headache medicines.

So, yes, now I owe money. It's not a huge amount, but it depresses me because I do my taxes (with the help of Turbo Tax and sometimes an accountant) with pride in my work. So, an oversight? An oversight? Ha.

And then, I have been sneezing all day for no apparent reason, which means I must take allergy meds, which gives me frou-frou brain, which is never good.

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And then, tonight is, back to school night, along with about eighty gazillion pre-back-to-school-night meetings, because apparently this is the only night when everybody can meet.

I hope today (Friday) is better. I feel like today (yesterday), I earned my whine sisters crown, and will probably top it off with wine.

What is everybody's day like today? Good, bad, exciting plans for the weekend? And don't forget to comment so that you can win a copy of the fabulous Dee Davis book JUST BREATH!

The Season for Catalogues

For some reason, recently I have been getting a slew of completely unsolicited catalogues.  I can't figure out how I am on their mailing list — I can't think of what I have bought or signed up for that would get me these things.

Among the usual LL Bean (I must have bough something from them somewhere in time, because I get boxes of mailers from them every year), and Wine Enthusiast, I got one for Cambria Cove.  Loved it.  Ordered a couple of things from it.  Maybe that is what spawned the onslaught, but I promise, the items hadn't even arrived and I was getting these really strange catalogues.  This is what came last week alone:

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The first one, Chasing Fireflies is a fashion catalogue for little girls.  I have not shopped for a little girl since I was a little girl.  The next one, Restoration Hardware, is home decor.  I have not improved my home decor in YEARS (but a glance through the catalogue reminds me that I need to).  Title Nine is an outdoor clothing catalogue, which is definitely up my alley, but a brand I have never heard of, and the Muscle and Performance magazine, addressed to me, is just that.  How to max out your mass, and the amazing aminos that go with that.  I can assure you that I have never in my life wanted to take anything to help any part of my body get bigger, so I have no clue where this came from.

The bad thing about these catalogues is that I am compelled to look.  I just spent an hour flipping through them (I really liked the Title Nine stuff).  But that's not an hour I have to spare!  (Well, okay, this week I do, but usually I don't).  And I really don't have the money to be buying blindly out of catalogues these days, what with Little Hubot away at school (that great sucking sound you hear is tuition).

That brings me to magazines.  I get four that I actually subscribe to:  Time (to know what's up in the world), Entertainment Weekly (because it is cheaper than People, but I prefer People), Health (hope springs eternal), and Publisher's Weekly.  Probably the only one of those that gives me useful information for my daily existence is Publisher's Weekly, and even that is something I could probably live without.  Because three of them are weeklies, they tend to pile up over the month, and if you add the catalogues to the pile, it seems as if I am constantly throwing out stacks of magazines, mostly unread.   But who has that kind of time, I ask you??

What magazines do you take?  And you have been inundated with a strange stream of catalogues recently?  Any good ones you'd recommend?  Remember, one lucky commenter wins Dee's book this week!