Review from the Boss

About twenty years ago (geez has it been that long!!!?) the director of adult education in my New York upstate county hired me as her executive secretary. At the time, I was dressed in muddy sweat pants and a tee-shirt with a little rip in the shoulder seam.

I had been unemployed for nearly a year and was attending job training through a government program. The thing about government programs is that they don't pay unemployment benefits if you don't show up for class.

I spent the morning with the house hunk under our double wide mobile home trying to repair a broken pipe. Suddenly I realized it was getting late, checked the time and knew if I was going to reach school in time to be counted for that day there was simply no time to change clothes. In this case, the money was far more important than my appearance. The hunk was on disability, I was on unemployment, and we had six people to support (teenagers and adults).

So off I went to school after a quick brush down. When I arrived my instructor told me about the job available downstairs in the adult education office. I ran down, picked up an application, went back upstairs to class and filled it out. Then at my instructor's urging, I took it back downstairs and turned it in, after asking about an appointment for an interview.

The gal that took my application, carried it into the director's office as though she might catch something contagious. She came back in a couple of minutes and said, "She'll see you now."

"I'm not dressed for an interview," I protested.

"She knows." I swear the woman was pretty sure I was a washout.

Anyway, there I sat in the director's office, fielding questions and discussing my qualifications. No one was more shocked than I was when she hired me. Later--much later--I asked her why she hired me. She smiled and said, "I knew anyone who could handle an interview under those conditions could handle whatever might come along in this office."

I held that position thirteen years until the house hunk was transferred to a different state. I've kept in touch over the years and when my first book, Dancer's Delight was contracted, she was one of the people that wished me well.

That was over two years ago. Imagine my surprise when I received a note from her this last week. "Dancer's Delight! I just finished your book and found it delightful. Such a creative storyline! A delightful read."

The next day, I received another message..."I’m just mad at myself for taking so long to buy one of your books. I seldom go to the bookstore except in an airport, when we are going on a trip. My mother and I exchange books frequently so she keeps me stocked! Then I was afraid of ordering on line as I didn’t want to get hit with lots of junk e-mail…. Anyway, I loved it and will read another of yours soon, I am sure.

I’m so proud to know I personally know an author!"

I love receiving fan mail from all my readers, but this one was special. This was from a former boss whose opinion I strongly respect. So yeah... this was EXCELLENT!

How about you? What's you're favorite review or fan letter story?

anny

Yay...Caterday!

I'm ready for a weekend. Laundry, shopping, writing.... time to rest. Y'all have a wonderful weekend!

anny

The Great Centipede Hunt

Last night as my granddaughters were preparing for bed, they discovered a centipede on the wall in their bedroom. T, the older girl tried to kill it with her shoe. But the centipede (we'll call him Speedy) zipped away, shooting down the wall behind the hide-a-beds.

At once the girls declared they couldn't/wouldn't sleep in the room with the possibility that Speedy could crawl in bed with them. T demanded a flashlight, both girls put on their shoes, and they started moving everything from one side of the room to the other. Using the flashlight, they eventually discovered Speedy lurking behind the couch.

When they tried to terminate him, he shot out from under the couch across the room, scooting right in front of D. T shrieked, "Kill it, kill it!" but D was absolutely paralyzed by Speedy's near encounter with her toes.

T leaped off the couch in pursuit. Speedy ran under their piled luggage, and D started screaming while T was yelling, "You let it get away!"

T lunged for the luggage, tossing their bags wildly aside lest Speedy take refuge inside one. Suddenly Speedy was revealed in the harsh glare of the flashlight. T jumped on him with both feet squishing him under one of her belts.

With heaving chests both girls stared down at poor Speedy with great satisfaction. Then they gathered the remains in a tissue, tossed it in the toilet and flushed it twice... just to make sure.

D looked at me with her lower lip a-tremble and announced, "Nanna, I'm traumatized."

With perfect truth, I solemnly replied, "Me, too."

Eventually, after the room was put to rights, they went to bed. But I'm not sure exactly when they went to sleep--even if they did vanquish the intrepid Speedy.

anny

Movie Time

My granddaughter and I have been watching "old" movies (=movies from the 80's). And in our conversations about the movies we've discussed such things as how movies used to be distributed when I was a girl.

When I was her age, I was allowed to enter a movie theater to view one movie--Bambi. The next time I attended a show, I was dating the househunk.

The theaters back then regularly ran double features. And when we were dating, it was the heyday of the Clint Eastwood spaghetti westerns. So one of those features was always one of the Eastwood westerns. To this day, I can quote line after line of the dialogue for those movies. For some reason, no matter what time we arrived at the show, the Clint Eastwood movie was playing. We had to sit through that movie to view the new movie.

It was also during that period that Disney released several of their non-animated comedies. I remember laughing hysterically while watching With Six You Get Eggroll, Parent Trap, and several others. In addition, there was Yours, Mine, and Ours with Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda, and a very odd Peter Sellers movie titled The Party. For years I've tried to locate a copy of The Party to no avail.


There was also a strange French farce type of movie. I have no idea what the title was, who the actors were, or any pertinent facts from the movie except it took place in a Victorian mansion and mostly consisted of various members of the cast of thousands sneaking in and out of bedrooms. Weird that after all these years I'm still curious about that movie.

Since you couldn't buy or rent a copy of a movie back then for personal viewing, if you missed it at the show, you had to wait until it was played on television. And of course, the movie was chopped up to fit the time frame for television so bits and pieces were left out... usually the "good" pieces.

There were such classics as Cool Hand Luke, Camelot, and The Exorcist (which I refused to watch!) We watched Guess Who's Coming to Dinner in a downtown theater in Chicago. For it's time it was quite a shocking movie, even if it DID have Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy in it. But that was also the height of the Civil Rights Movement. There was In the Heat of the Night, too.

Unlike many of my friends, I've always been perfectly content to go off to the movies by myself. In my turbulent life, a bit of peace and quiet was welcome. That's how I ended up viewing Dances with Wolves all alone in a theater I had completely to myself. When I went back two weeks later with my kids, the place was packed.

I think there's a certain something lost when viewing films on the television at home. Oh, I know it's very expensive now to go to the show--ridiculously so. But some films are truly made for the big screen and viewing them on a small screen doesn't quite have the same impact.

Watching Independence Day or Schindler's List on a small screen drastically limits the scope of those films. I think the same holds true for films about space or with wide panoramas in them such as Star Wars or Willow.

I confess that I seldom go to the movies now days. Too expensive. Waaaay too expensive. But I miss sneaking into a nearly empty auditorium to watch the magical wizardry from Hollywood. Yes, I do.

How about you?

anny

Disappointment

There are things in life we all have to deal with. Hurt, disappointment, betrayal, unfairness. Probably disappointment is the most difficult because usually there's no possible control over the factors that disappoint us. If we're hurt, we can hurt back or heal. If we're betrayed we can seek revenge or move on. If we're treated unfairly we can seek legal redress... or not.

But disappointment frequently rests on the actions of others or acts of God or events that are beyond our control. How we react to disappointment says a lot about us.

Last week, my grandchildren, a friend and I had a special "girls day out" planned. And then my friend woke up with a vicious stomach bug. As much as she wanted to go, it was clearly impossible. Well, what's so extraordinary about that, you say? I'll tell you: it was the very grown up way my granddaughters reacted to the postponement of their day out.

Both of them immediately talked to my friend on the phone, assuring her that her health was far more important than our proposed plans. And then they found something to keep themselves quietly occupied the rest of the afternoon. Not a word was said about the plans. I thought they demonstrated extraordinary grace for a five-year-old and an eleven-year-old. I was incredibly proud of them.

Too often I've watched adults have temper tantrums when disappointments come their way. No, I'm not talking about genuinely unfair or illegal treatment. I'm talking about things like someone showing up late for an event. Or having plans not quite work out. Or realizing that the store doesn't have the dress or coat in your size.

Disappointment is temporary. If we faced life's disappointments with grace and a willingness to seek an alternative, life would be much easier both for us and those around us. That doesn't mean we have to turn into a doormat. But it does mean we can act with dignity.

Sometimes, it isn't only adults who teach the lessons.

anny

Another dental visit...

My daughter and son-in-law were up and off by eleven o'clock with the grandchildren cheerfully waving to their parents as they drove out of the parking lot. Next we raced through the morning straightening up and then the house hunk and I prepared for our dental visits.

While we were gone, the girls went down to stay with neighbor extraordinaire Jane, who allowed them to demonstrate their dancing and hip-hop skills for her while the dentist tortured us. I had yet more scaling today. When she decided I probably couldn't take any more, she announced that I would need to come back again.

Sigh.

So I felt very much like the fellow in the picture. But at least I have a breather between this visit and the next during which I will brush, floss, rinse with salt water, rinse with mouth wash, and even take my calcium pills religiously.

I'm sure I'll feel better tomorrow.

anny

The check is in the mail...

I'm thinking of changing my mail service. I've reached the inescapable conclusion that the only way I'll receive my royalty check within a reasonable time period is if I go with a private mail carrier. My publisher assures me that they mail the check out in a timely manner so the fault must lie with the United States Post Office. I believe they may have returned to the old Pony Express service.

Otherwise, it wouldn't take eleven days for my check to travel across a distance that I could cover in seven hours in a car. So USPS, you're out. Tomorrow I'll take out a contract with the Hogwarts Post Office, because goodness knows, I worry that the future postal services will only deteriorate. I figure at the current rate, it will soon take more than a month for the check to make the same distance.

Hogwarts, here I come.

anny

Have a great weekend!

I'll be back on Monday!

anny

I'm bored!

When I was a girl, I don't ever remember uttering the the modern child's battlecry, "I'm bored!" Actually, it would never have occurred to me to complain of boredom. There was an infinite world to explore, both outside and in. How could I be bored?

We didn't own a television. TV was a new concept when I was a girl. The TV's had huge cabinets with tiny little screens. The pictures were black and white. And since we didn't have a TV, I didn't grow up glued to the set.

What did I do?

Played with my dolls. I was in the unusual position of owning many dolls, several of which were foreign in origin. My father was a minister in charge of the missionary board so missionaries on home furlough frequently stayed with us. Every single one seemed to bring me a doll. My mother, an accomplished seamstress made clothes for my army of dolls.

Read books. I believe I had an enormous advantage over today's child because I grew up without television. My parents spent precious money buying me books. Back then, paperbacks for children were scarce so they bought me hardbacked books. I still have them. My children read them and now my grandchildren are reading them. I was never bored because I had an infinite number of worlds and characters to keep me company.

Play outside. I took my fired up imagination outside where I dragooned my brothers into taking part in my fantastic adventures. Imagination is a wonderful thing. I suspect that my own stories have their seeds in the rich treasure trove of stories I had at my disposal. I was always a daydreamer, happily carrying out my ideas in the great outdoors.

Craft work. I was most fortunate to have a mother who was extremely crafty. And every new craft she she tried, I was also allowed to try, even when I was small. Embroidery, painting, sewing, weaving... everything she tried, I did too.

No electronic games, no television, no iPod, no Wii. Surprisingly, I thrived. And I didn't suffer from boredom.

anny

Showering with the Neighbor...

Back in my younger days, I had an adventure or two. One night after all the kids were in bed, my friend J and I went down to the local drugstore where the school supplies were on sale. It was early September, a nice warm night. We planned to be gone only about an hour.

When we finished our shopping and returned to her car, we discovered the battery was dead. The store closed right after we checked out so we found ourselves in an empty parking lot. Across the road was a Seven-Eleven so we walked over there to use the phone and buy a soda.

My husband was at work, so she called hers. We had a bet riding on what her husband's reaction would be--and I won so she bought the soda. This was back in the day when we practically lived on Tab. So we took our sodas and went back to the car, sat up on the hood and waited for C (her husband) to arrive.

In a little while he showed up in faded jeans and moccasins. After a brief discussion, he hooked up the battery cables and went to start his truck. Just as the engine turned over, I backed away from the car and that was a life-saving move. The battery exploded, spewing battery acid all over me. But because I'd backed away--and because I wore thick coke bottle glasses--it wasn't nearly bad as it could have been.

C leaped out of his truck and grabbed my Tab, pouring it all over me. Then he grabbed my friend's Tab and poured that all over me.

And then he ripped my shirt off.

In the parking lot.

Good job I was wearing a bra because he didn't have on a shirt to offer me.

We all piled in the truck and went home. All the way, J is still shaking because of the close call, and C is telling me all the stuff I need to do as soon as I get home so I can wash the battery acid off. We parked in his driveway, relieved to be home and shakily climbed out of the truck.

Evidently, he decided that I might not follow his instructions closely enough because he marched me inside his house, wrestled me into the shower with him and proceeded to scrub me down. In the midst of it all D, his sixteen year old son wandered in.

"Whatcha doin' Daddy?"

"Takin' a shower with Anny!"

"Doesn't she have a shower at her house?"

"What would be the fun of that?"

When C determined I was clean enough, J provided a heavy bathrobe and some hot tea. And sometime around midnight, I finally made it home. Later inspection proved that my jeans were full of holes. Ditto the bra and my glass lenses were pitted. There were tiny burns all over my face. But overall, I survived it all pretty well.

And that's how I ended up taking a shower with my neighbor...

anny

PS! Happy Birthday to my baby, who turns 31 today! I love ya BABY!

Looking for Lunch

About ninety percent of a digital author's promotion is done online. We spend a lot of time writing blogs, keeping up our websites, facebook, myspace, and twittering. In our interactions we meet all sorts of people--including the not so nice--the stalkers.

The unpalatable truth is we are all at risk. There are hunters out there looking for lunch.

Yet there are writers who are oblivious to the threat. They post pictures of their homes, post their addresses and phone numbers, list their vacation itineraries, discuss personal business on their blogs, and even post pictures of their cars (complete with license plates visible). I've come to the conclusion that they simply do not understand how far reaching the Internet influence is.

I'm continually amazed at what I find when I do research queries. When I google myself, I find comments I posted on other blogs over two years ago. Once that "enter" button is pressed, the information is floating around out there forever.

There is a fine line between the public persona and the private one. And when that line is crossed, the danger immediately increases exponentially. Crossing that line puts that writer on the lunch menu.

Don't become the tiger's lunch.

anny

Go to bed!

Heh. In the years since I had small children, I've forgotten all the reasons kids can come up with for avoiding bedtime. There's the old standby, "I need to go to the bathroom." And the follow-up corollary, "I need a drink."

But there my grandchildren have such fertile minds. They come up with a host of thing my own children never thought of.

"I'm too hot."
"I'm too cold."
"I forgot to kiss Poppy goodnight."
"I want to talk to Mommy (or Daddy)."
"My feet itch."
"I'm hungry."
"I can't find my dolly."
"I want a story."
"I need to go to the bathroom--again."

Eventually, they fall asleep in between thinking up new reasons to get out of bed. And Nanna fosters that notion by dragging their butts out of bed early in the morning.

Monday night they were bouncing off the walls, impossible to corral, so they didn't fall asleep until midnight. Tuesday morning, I dragged them out of bed at 9:30 AM and kept them running until 9:30 PM. I noticed they ran out of reasons to pop out of bed pretty quickly.

Today we'll go swimming and have a bit more healthy exercise. I've also noticed that I haven't had trouble sleeping since they came to visit. I'm too darned tired to move. I believe I've discovered the cure for insomnia.

anny