Books, boobs and bones

A while ago I went to an imagining clinic to have a bone density test and my annual mammogram. I had my nose in a Susan Mallery book when the technician whose job it was to smash my breasts between two cold plates came to get me. She asked what I was reading and as I showed her the cover I half braced for that slight curl of the upper lip that is too often present when romance is mentioned.

Oh, me of little faith. It turns out she’d crossed over to the Light Side a long time ago. We talked books and although she's more a fan of historical than contemporary romance she insisted that I write down my name and backlist. She also didn't seem to feel it was necessary to completely flatten my boobs in order to get a good image. A coincidence between that relatively pain free procedure and romance, you ask?

I think not.

Next I went down the hall for my bone density test. The tech there was a Samoan guy somewhere between forty and forty-five. Married, the father of five. He was more into self-help books than fiction. Yet when he found out I was a writer he, too, insisted that I give him a list of my titles and said he was stopping by the bookstore on his way home. Oh, boy. If he actually tries one, I might have myself a convert. That’s even better than selling to a True Believer. Okay, maybe not,. But it feels like a coup all the same.

So this post is a two-fer. One part is to remind everyone (well, except for you, Louis, and you can remind your wife) to do your monthly breast exam and to think about getting a mammogram. Granted, the latter's not a lot of fun, but as someone with a shipload of breast cancer in her family I'm here to tell you: it's better to endure a few seconds of discomfort than to oh, say. . .die.

And of course this is about books. Reading makes the world go 'round as far as I'm concerned and in this case it took two appointments I wasn't exactly panting with anticipation to keep and turned them into opportunities for stimulating conversation.

So, I’m wondering, have the rest of you ever found yourselves in unexpected places, talking books with strangers?

Chocolate: It's Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

I've never enjoyed eating breakfast.

Okay, to be perfectly honest: I hate breakfast. Maybe because I had to choke down a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice in the morning when I was a kid. (To this day I can't make myself eat oatmeal and I rarely drink oj unless it's in the form of a Mimosa.:-)

Or maybe I hate breakfast because I'm not a morning person and breakfast is usually eaten at the crack of dawn. (I'd be happy to spearhead a campaign to move breakfast to later in the day . . . say four in the afternoon. Or eliminate it altogether.)

But we all have to eat, so here's a typical day in my life, the life of a busy woman writer.

A typical breakfast: two cups of coffee and two slices of Muenster cheese.

An ideal breakfast: Chocolate. I'm talking about the kind that melts on your tongue and tastes . . . well, let's start with the word heavenly and go from there. (My husband once sent me a sampler from La Maison du Chocolat. A French chocolate maker, of course. They now have a shop in New York and they'll ship anywhere in the US. Bless them!)

A typical lunch: A left-over chicken breast from last night's dinner. Or an apple. Or, if I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel, two slices of fat-free cheese wedged between two thin pieces of low carb bread. (The best description for my lunch is "gastronomical delight." Not!)

An ideal lunch: A French baguette, a chunk of some delicious cheese and a glass of wine. Preferably eaten outside . . . in a park . . . on a beautiful summer day . . . far, far, far from home. (Sigh.)

A typical afternoon snack: a glass of low salt V8 juice with a celery stick.

An ideal afternoon snack: Refer back to the chocolate mentioned above.

A typical dinner: A chicken breast before it becomes a leftover. Steamed broccoli. A small salad.

An ideal dinner: Well, I can tell you one thing: it would start with escargot drowning in garlic and butter! There would be wine, of course. Preferably a cabernet sauvignon or a really wonderful Burgundy. Fish prepared by some amazing chef who knows the secret of sauces. Grilled asparagus. Then perhaps a sliced pear beautifully arranged on an antique plate with a small wedge of Stilton. (Stop! Stop! I'm making myself hungry and it's not even noon yet.)

A typical evening treat: Nothing. Nada. Zip. (Okay, sometimes I do have one of those low-carb Slimfast bars.)

An ideal evening treat: Chocolate, what else? Wouldn't it be heavenly to start AND finish each day with a piece of fabulous chocolate?

So, Inquiring Minds want to know: What's your ideal breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack or treat?

Bon Appetit!
EG

Jayne reads: A COLD DAY IN HELL

I figure the one thing we all have in common here at RWQ is that we like to read fiction. (Maybe you don't realize how special that makes us. Do you have any idea how few people have read a book in the past six months? Arrrgh. But we won't go there). Anyhow, in the spirit of sharing thoughts on books I'm running a little mini-series of blogs featuring books written by my sister Quills.

No, these aren't reviews. There are enough of those floating around on the Internet. And, no, I'm not going to give you an extensive summary of the story. You can find that elsewhere, too. (Like at the author's web site).

Instead, this series is about telling you why I read the book and what I got out of it. Because no two people bring the same thing to a book and no two people take the same thing away from it.Then I'm going to tell you what the author had to say about her own book. Because no two authors have the same take on any given theme, conflict, archetype or plot. Give ten authors the same plot outline and you will get ten very different stories. That's how fiction works.

A COLD DAY IN HELL, by Stella Cameron

THE STORY: Another volume in Stella's Bayou Books series set in -- where else? Louisiana. This is romantic-suspense featuring a heroine who is trying to raise her teenage son alone and a hero who is trying to manage a nineteen-year old everyone believes is his nephew but who is, in reality, the orphaned son of a notorious mob boss -- a protected witness. You've got murder, strange goings-on in the swamp, an evil ex-husband, a very weird dog and, yes, Christmas is coming.

WHY I READ THE BOOK: I know I can count on Stella to deliver a high-octane read featuring exotic, unpredictable characters, a sexy relationship and major suspense -- all set against a deeply atmospheric landscape.

WHAT I GOT FROM THE BOOK: Chilling murders, a mysterious mystic who lives out in the swamps, hot romance, an ex-CIA hero who gets premonitions and, yes, that weird dog. (I do love animals in a story). Exciting and fast stuff.

ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S UNIQUE TALENTS: A marvelous gift for invoking a sense of eerie dread.

WHAT THE AUTHOR HAD TO SAY ABOUT HER BOOK: "Two elements draw me to write stories like A COLD DAY IN HELL. I don't suppose I'll ever understand the first; my addiction to Louisiana. For a woman who doesn't like to be hot, even close to the sun, and with a healthy respect for all things wild and crawly, the state shouldn't be a first choice. I've decided the closest I'll get to an explanation is an attraction to a place that I find beautiful, exotic, foreign and vaguely dangerous.

The second magnet in these stories is how we find heroes in all shapes and sizes, and in the most unexpected situations. In this story there are characters who wouldn't jump out of a crowd and yell, "I'll kill the dragon!" But they are tigers when the pressure is on. Sometimes heroes (heroines) are spectacular specimens and I love writing about them--Angel and Eileen in CDIH are "smashing." But it's hard not to love a little old lady who takes on a villain, or a man a whole town has branded as weird who proves how wrong first impressions can be."

LAST WORD: Intense

Until next time,

Jayne

On to Christmas!

WARNING: Lots of Christmas graphics in use. Sorry - I couldn't resist!

Last night, it snowed! Okay, not a lot, but it put a very pretty sprinkling of frosty white on everything. I love it. Not the cold, but the feeling that the holidays are truly here.

While my daughter-in-law was here visiting for Thanksgiving, we got the inside of the house decorated for Christmas. She's great that way - being as much into the holidays as I am. My boys... Yeah, they'll help if I ask them to, or if they see me doing it alone. But I can tell it's not something they really enjoy.
Bev and I enjoy it! A lot.

Besides, the boys were pretty busy.
My oldest son is buying a franchise restaurant, so he's swamped with paperwork and deals. My middle son is in his last year of college and spent much of his visit on the computer, doing classwork.
My youngest son chased after his 2 year old son, who has a double ear infection and went from excitedly playing with all my noisy Christmas plushes, to cranky at the drop of a hat. Poor little guy.

Thanksgiving Day was my husband's birthday, so I tried to insist that he sit still and relax. Unfortunately, our cable went out. And the cable company, which infuriates me, can't come to fix it for a WEEK.
So anyway... I decorated.

The week before, while our ever-changing Ohio weather was mild and almost springlike, I'd gotten all my outside lights up.

My shopping is done, wrapped, and under the tree!
With as crazy as it gets after Thanksgiving, I always try to get my shopping done in advance. See, I like to wrap everything fancy. Lots of bows and ribbons... and it takes time. The trick here is that I'm also writing up a storm, having just finished a new Winston novella, and now working on my next Servant novel. I have to pick days to shop when I know I won't get as much writing done.

I juggle to fit everything in! But it works for me.

Some time this week I'll do my Christmas cards, which is very time consuming. My email loop - LoriFosterBookjunkies - is doing a card exchange, and as much as I LOVE all the wonderful readers and authors on my list, I just can't take part. As it is, I send out a couple hundred cards each year.

Know what I do with the ones I receive? Well, after displaying them around the entry door for folks to admire, I save the prettiest ones and frame them for special holiday pictures during the season. Each year I trade out those from the year before with new ones. They look gorgeous in white, silver or gold embossed frames in special places around the house, replacing the more traditional decorations I use the rest of the year.

Back when my husband and I married 30 years ago, we started having Christmas Eve at our house, and we still love it. These days, we end up with anywhere from 35 to 50 people, depending on how many of the late teens bring dates, and how many babies have been born, and how many kids bring a friend. Everyone is welcome, so some of the family members have brought a lonely neighbor, a friend, an extended relative by marriage... I love it.

It's something that's very, very special to me, and I try to make enough cookies that everyone can take a plate home.

What do you have done so far?

Are you an early bird, or a rush-last-minute person?

Do you shop for lots and lots of people, or only a few?

Do you decorate your house inside and out, like me, or with only a small tree?
Or not at all?
Whatever you choose to do, however you celebrate the holidays, I hope it's a wonderful time for you - the weeks before, the time after. I wish you lots of smiles, warmth from friends and family, and peace in your heart.

ELIZABETH HAS TIME TO READ

One of the delights of not working so hard is that I have more time to read. I haven’t got the book report format down to Jayne’s nifty version, but here goes:

HOUSE OF RAIN by Craig Childs is a fascinating, beautifully written personal and historical tour of the Anasazi civilization.

What makes this book different from all the other books I’ve read about the Anasazi?

First and foremost is the fact that the author walked the land he described. He didn’t just fly into remote archaeological sites, watch people dig with toothbrushes and dental picks, and then speak as though he had done the work himself.

Craig Childs hiked the Anasazi roads and wilderness with only a small backpack, experienced the changing seasons by camping out in all of the Southwest’s wild weather swings, knew hunger and thirst and the sweet scent of water in a dry land. He talked with academics, native Americans, and some rather amazing people whose paths he crossed in the empty land.

The result is HOUSE OF RAIN, a must-read for anyone who is interested in the people who came before us, in the dry yet nourishing land, and the unclouded vistas of the Anasazi civilization.

This is a passionate, intelligent, and oddly compelling read, even if you're so unfamiliar with the subject that you have to look up the word ANASAZI in the dictionary!

UNDULATE YOUR WAY TO SATISFYING SEX

Stella brings you a change of pace:) Anita Boser is a Hellerworker. She is both licensed and gifted! I met her on my quest to find pain free peace for the structural stresses writers, and most people who use their bodies a lot, are forever fighting.

Now Anita has a new book out, which I recommend to each of you, and, just for us, she has written the following blog article.

Undulate Your Way to Exciting, Satisfying Sex

By Anita Boser

Your uncontrolled pleasure is the aim of any mature lover. He wants to take you to the place where you can really let go, lose all pretense and structure, and totally enjoy what he can give you. Some days he can figure out how to do all this on his own; other times he needs help. If you’re like me, having to spell it out is the opposite of letting go—so how do we maintain intimacy and show our lovers what we want without giving instructions like a teacher?

Let me show you a technique that has multiple applications for adding excitement and satisfaction to your lovemaking. It’s called undulation, a movement that flows from one part of the body to another. This sophisticated, sensual movement will make your body more open to intimacy and pleasure—and you can also use it to improve your partner’s ability to follow your non-verbal cues.

First, try a simple undulation on your own. In a seated position, move your upper body, sway to the left and right. Notice what parts of your spine move easily and which are stiff. Breathe. Bring movement to the stiff places so they will awaken and become more alive. Keep everything soft and easy. Try to use your whole spine down to your tailbone. Add motion forward and back and some small twists, too. Notice how sensual you become when you’re aware of and use more of your body.

Now you get to teach this—physically—to your lover. Sit back to back and ask him to notice your body, your breath, and where your bodies touch. Direct him to maintain contact and follow your movements as you playfully lead through slow sways, twists, turns, and waves being mindful of his abilities to move.

Turn around so that your back is cradled by his front. Again lead him, but this time initiate as much movement as possible from your pelvis and let it flow up your spine and back down to what will become a focal point of sensation for you both. Keep your movements gentle and avoid the temptation to get amped up to quickly.

Suggest that he lead. If he’s uncomfortable, assure him that it doesn't have to be choreographed or suave, but that you’d like it to remain soothing. More than likely, you've helped him get in touch with his sensuality and loosened his spine enough that his body can continue the flow you started.

Take this from sitting to lying down, then changing to different positions, and trading off who directs and who follows. Notice how few verbal cues are necessary to stay connected with this technique. You’ll also find that by increasing your sensuality and ability to move—and his—he’ll be better able to reach those special places inside you so you can totally let go.

Anita Boser is author of Relieve Stiffness and Feel Young Again with Undulation a book that includes 52 gentle exercises to improve flexibility and strength around the spine. www.undulationexercise.com.

Sheila's got a take on Christmas that husbands don't wantcha to know

Hey, you all--I have a guest blogger this week. Please welcome Sheila Roberts--who many of you may know as Dr. Shiela from her fun articles in Romance Writers of America's RWR industry magazine. Sheila and I met oh, a hundred years or so ago at our local chapter and has she got a holiday book for you!

ON STRIKE FOR CHRISTMAS
Christmas is fast approaching and many of the women in the town of Holly are bracing for stress, overwork, and very little understanding or appreciation from the men in their lives. But then Joy Robertson, Laura Fredericks, and their knitting buddies decide to “go on strike” and give the men an opportunity to see firsthand what it takes to make the holidays merry and bright. Soon other women are joining in and husbands all over town are getting a crash course in decorating, shopping, and what to wear to see Santa, and are searching frantically for an interpreter to translate the mysteries of holiday recipes. The men may just come to appreciate the holidays after walking a mall in their wives’ high heels. But maybe the women will learn something, too.

And take it away, Sheila!!


AN OUNCE OF PROTECTION . . .
Is worth a pound of cure, so they say. That's why I thought I should go into this holiday season with A PLAN. And I'm happy to say you heard it here first. Thanks so much, Quills, for having me.

By the way, I want a hot promo pic like you ladies all have. Of course, it helps to be hot to begin with. I'm seriously considering photo-shopping my head onto Susan's body. No one would ever know until they met me in person. Then they would wonder when I put on all that weight.

Which brings me to my holiday eating plan. I thought I should eat right this year. Lots of greens. I could serve broccoli, snow peas, and green peppers to my party guests. Except that stuff is no good without dip, and I suppose an ounce of veggies to a pound of dip rather defeats the purpose of serving those veggies in the first place. And honestly, when I think of eating something green at the holidays the first thing that comes to mind is not broccoli. It's those cute little green tree-shaped spritz cookies. Or sugar cookies with green frosting. And then there's the green frosting on my holiday brownies - chocolate and mint, how can a girl resist that combination? Obviously, this is not the plan for me. I enjoy baking too much.

I could e-mail Santa and beg him to please Fe Ex me an Acme Holiday Mouth Protector ASAP. Oh, you haven't heard of this? It's basically a giant stapler. Apply to the corners and center of your lips and your eating problem is solved. No fattening holiday goody will be able to enter your mouth and make its way on down to your hips. This handy gadget has a double advantage for people like me who make a habit of putting their feet in their mouth. It's hard to do that when you can't open your beak. But I hate pain. I barely survived getting my ears pierced.

I could do some mall walking with my girlfriends. That way we could scope out the sales while burning calories and still be able to enjoy those holiday goodies. But when you're mall walking you don't want to walk too fast. You might spill your eggnog latte. You might not see that great bargain. And who wants to be all sweaty when she finds the perfect Christmas red dress? You can't try on clothes when you're sweaty. Obviously, that plan won't work.

So, realistically, here's the plan. You might like to try it, too. I'm going to have a merry Christmas and eat according to the charge card principle: enjoy it now, pay later. And yes, I will pay, but while I'm jogging my way through January I'll have my memories of holiday eating bliss to keep me warm. Now, that's a plan.
For those of you opting for Sheila's merry Christmas to my stomach plan, here's a fun recipe from my new book that you and your girlfriends are bound to enjoy.

DAVE'S PEPPERMINT FIZZ

2 generous scoops peppermint candy ice cream
1 shot peppermint schnapps
1/2 cup club soda
Combine all ingredients in blender and blend just until smooth. Serve in a champagne flute or margarita glass and garnish with a peppermint stick. Pour in just a dab more club soda to add decorative fizz. Makes one drink.

Elizabeth G. thinks the UNMISTAKABLE

The other day I was thinking about what we human beings have in common. (Okay, okay, I admit it was more like woolgathering. Or daydreaming. Or even a brain hiccup since I was supposed to be writing a very frightening and intense scene for the end of NIGHT HUNGER, my next vampire romance novel.)

But I digress. (Sigh. As I so often do.)

Anyway, I was mulling over the idea that certain sights and sounds and smells are common experiences for many of us, maybe for most of us. You know the ones that have been deeply embedded in our memory since childhood, the ones that are unmistakable.

Here are a few that popped into my head, some sad, some happy; some I’d rather forget, some priceless memories.

Hearing the distinctive wail of an ambulance siren.

Hearing the early-morning call of our resident cardinals singing to each other before I’ve even opened my eyes.

The smell of a skunk. (Hence, the eye-catching photo above.)

The smell of fresh-baked Snickerdoodle cookies.

The sight of a young man in uniform (young enough to be my own son) saying goodbye to his family at the airport.

The sight of a family reuniting at that same airport, happy and unselfconscious tears flowing.

The sound of “Taps” being played by a single bugle.

The sound of the national anthem being sung by an all-male choir.

(Actually, both of these make me teary.)


The malodorous scent of lilies. (For one thing, I’m highly allergic to lilies. For another, they always make me think of funerals.)

The wondrous scent of lilacs. (Long story short: very, very happy childhood memories.)

And now for a few of my personal favorites, all priceless:

The scent of my dad’s aftershave. (Happy and sad because he's no longer with us.)

The sound of my son’s laughter.

The magical sight of Christmas lights.

Now it’s your turn to share with the rest of us here at RWQ. What are some of your favorite (or not-so-favorite) unmistakable sights and sounds and smells?

Thoughtfully yours,
EG

Jayne Reads: INNOCENT AS SIN

Some come to this blog because they write and some because they read but we all have one thing in common: We read! So, in that spirit I've decided to do a series of blogs on books. What a concept, huh? And, because we just happen to have some actual writers here at RWQ, I'm going to start with my sister Quills' books.

These won't be reviews. There are enough of those floating around on the Internet. And, no, I'm not going to give you an extensive summary of the story. You can find that elsewhere, too. (Like at the author's web site).

Instead, I'm going to tell you why I read the book and what I got out of it. Because no two people bring the same thing to a book and no two people take the same thing away from it.

Then I'm going to tell you what the author had to say about her own book. Because no two authors have the same take on any given theme, conflict, archetype or plot. Give ten authors the same plot outline and you will get ten very different stories. That's how fiction works.


INNOCENT AS SIN by Elizabeth Lowell

THE STORY: An exciting, intelligent romantic-thriller. The heroine, Kayla Shay, a private banker in Arizona, is set up to take the fall in a dangerous money-laundering scheme. Her goal is to survive the trap in which she finds herself. People are out to kill her. The hero, Rand McCree, is the mysterious man who is supposed to protect her. His real goal, however, is revenge. They're attracted to each other but deeply suspicious of the other's motives. With good reason.

WHY I READ THE BOOK: I love romantic thrillers and I know from experience that no one does them better than Elizabeth Lowell. I trust her "voice". She's an automatic "buy" for me. I also trust her research. I expect to get a ripped-from-the-headlines look at some mysterious and dangerous aspect of the real world in her books. I am never disappointed.

WHAT I GOT FROM THE BOOK: A compelling love story and an exhilarating thrill ride that gave me a disturbing glimpse behind the curtain that conceals the dark world of international arms sales. (I still shudder when I think about it. I mean, who knew?). I now know more about the arms trade than I will ever learn in the papers.

ONE OF THE AUTHOR'S UNIQUE TALENTS: An uncanny ability to weave the research and the romance seamlessly together.

WHAT THE AUTHOR HAD TO SAY ABOUT HER BOOK: "I find it fascinating that international politics and all the global pushing and shoving that we see in the news can actually intersect in a very personal way with an ordinary character's life."

LAST WORD: Fascinating.

Until next time,
Jayne

FAVORITE CHRISTMAS BOOKS

Hello, Quills!

I’m so excited to be here. Lori invited me to come over to play today and I have to take a moment to gush. I’m such a fan of the authors here. You gals rock the romance industry. :) Thank you for giving us such fabulous stories. :)

I began reading Lori’s books back when she first published for Harlequin Temptation. I searched high and low and found this early pic of us together at my first RWA National Conference in D.C. Horrible photo of me, but I was star-struck so who cares?




Luckily, the pics of us together have gotten a little better over the years. Here’s one of us last June at Lori Foster and Dianne Castell’s June Get Together. This is such a great event and if you haven’t attended yet, it’s an absolute MUST.

Over the years I’ve read every story Lori has released and can’t tell you how much I look forward to her books, but some of my all-time favorites have been her Christmas novellas. I love Christmas. Toss in a romance and I’m all yours. There’s just something about the season of love and hope and forgiveness that draws me in.

That’s why I’m so excited about my very first Christmas release, A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER (Harlequin Superromance), which hit the shelves November 6.

A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER is the last of a trio of character-related stories set in southern Ohio and northern Kentucky, and features one of my favorite themes—amnesia. Can you imagine? It’s Christmas and you don’t know who you are?

After writing the first book in the series I received a lot of emails asking what happened to Jack, Joe’s little brother. When Jack roared out of town after graduation, where did he go? Why didn’t he contact his father again? How could he not believe in Joe’s innocence?


Unfortunately, I didn’t have the answers. Jack was mentioned twice in the book, no more. And then two things happened at once. The song Photograph by Nickelback received a lot of air-play and in the headlines was a tragic story I simply couldn’t get out of my mind. Time passed. And then my brain did what every writer’s brain does–what if Jack...

And so Jack’s story was born.

I hope you’ll look for A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER and play along with the contest running on my website. Also posted at www.kaystockham.com is an excerpt, a book trailer and probably more information than you want to know about me.

And for those brave souls who post and tell us their *favorite* Christmas book/author, I’ll give away a copy of A CHRISTMAS TO REMEMBER in the hopes that, maybe, it'll become one of yours.

Thanks again!

Kay – off to get paper and pen so I’ll have more Christmas books!

Kay Stockham ~ 2007 RITA FinalistA Christmas To Remember, Harlequin Superromance, Nov 07Another Man's Baby (Garret), Harlequin Superromance, Mar 08Untitled (Nick), Harlequin Superromance, Jul 08Want to win fabulous prizes? Check out www.kaystockham.com &www.PinkLadiesBlog.com

ELIZABETH SALUTES THE ART OF THE INSULT

I hadn't thought much about it, but a friend (thanks Margaret!) pointed out to me one of the most common evolutions in our daily speech.

Back in the old days -- shortly after the dinos poofed into the unexpected sunrise--people crafted their insults with exquisite care.

Butthead didn't cut it.

Neither did dogbreath.

Neither did any of the single syllable words so beloved of The Sopranos. Does that mean people were nicer way back when?

*laughs hysterically*

Um, not only no, but hell no. Here's a sampling of my favorite insults from the days when obscenities didn't see print.

Churchill and Lady Astor: She said, "If you were my husband I'd give you poison," and he said, "If you were my wife, I'd drink it."

A member of Parliament to Disraeli: "Sir, you will either die on the gallows or of some unspeakable disease." "That depends, Sir," said Disraeli, "on whether I embrace your policies or your mistress."

"I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it." Mark Twain
"I am enclosing two tickets to the first night of my new play; bring a friend.... if you have one." George Bernard Shaw to Winston Churchill.
"Cannot possibly attend first night, will attend second... if there is one." Winston Churchill, to Shaw.

"I've just learned about his illness. Let's hope it's nothing trivial." - Irvin S. Cobb

"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork." - Mae West

"Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go." Oscar Wilde

"He has Van Gogh's ear for music." Billy Wilder

"I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it." Groucho Marx

"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." William Faulkner about Ernest Hemingway.
"Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?" Ernest Hemingway about William Faulkner.


And, finally, the real crusher:

"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it." Moses Hadas


Have any favorites you'd like to add?

Puny, Very Puny, says Stella

HUMOR FOR LEXOPHILES (LOVERS OF WORDS):

I wondered why the baseball was getting bigger. Then it hit me.


Police were called to a day care where a three-year-old was resisting a rest.


Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off? He's all right now.


The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference.


The butcher backed up into the meat grinder and got a little behind in his work.


To write with a broken pencil is pointless.


When fish are in schools they sometimes take debate.


The short fortune teller who escaped from prison was described as a small medium at large.


A thief who stole a calendar got twelve months.


A thief fell and broke his leg in wet cement. He became a hardened criminal.


Thieves who steal corn from a cornfield could be charged with stalking.


We'll never run out of math teachers because they always multiply.


When the smog lifts in Los Angeles, U.C.L.A.


The math professor went crazy with the blackboard. He did a number on it.


The professor discovered that her theory of earthquakes was on shaky ground.


The dead batteries were given out free of charge.


If you take a laptop computer for a run you could jog your memory.


A dentist and a manicurist fought tooth and nail.


A backward poet writes inverse.


If you don't pay your exorcist you can get repossessed.


With her marriage she got a new name and a dress.


When a clock is hungry it goes back four seconds.


A grenade fell onto a kitchen floor in France, resulted in Linoleum Blownapart.


You are stuck with your debt if you can't budge it.


He broke into song because he couldn't find the key.


A calendar's days are numbered.


A lot of money is tainted: 'Taint yours, and 'taint mine.


A plateau is a high form of flattery.


Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.


If you jump off a Paris bridge, you are in Seine.


When she saw her first strands of gray hair, she thought she'd dye.

*~*


Last night I woke up (this morning, really) at 2 and panicked. My head ached, my back ached, my stomach ached . . . At first I was terrified. What could be wrong with me? Then I remembered what I always remember when I'm within a few days of finishing a book:



"I'm mad. I can't write a book. This whole story sucks. Now everyone will find out what a dolt I am. What shall I do? I'll go to a hotel and register under a phony name so no one can find me. No, won't work, they'd still dig me out. I'll leave the country. If they find me then I can say I went to avoid prosecution. If they ask me what I'm being prosecuted for, I'll wing it, again . . ."



Where else but with all of you could I share this deep, very dark secret?


Puns, by the way, always cheer me up so I decided to share my recent collection.


If you have any advice to help me, or any puns to share--have at it!



I think I see my yellow sumbarine--gotta go,

Stella:)

Where a dancing fool intersects with Dancing With The Stars

A while back Elizabeth G wrote a post about not being a dancer. I didn't reply because 1) it was a crazy busy week for me so I was late in seeing it and 2) no one else seemed to get off on dancing either and Oh. Man. I love to dance.

I grew up in a family of dancing fools. We may not be all that adept at it, but my mom's side of the family in particular sure did like to get down. One of my earliest memories is of family picnics at Shadow Lake with my parents and Grandpa and brothers and a boatload of aunts, uncles and cousins. We'd swim and eat and play (kids) or visit (adults) all day long. Then when the sun began to go down, we'd move to the dance hall. Lots of western Washington lakes in those days hosted one. They were a bare-bones affair, just a one-story structure with a wooden floor and a juke-box. But we'd shake a little sand on the floor, shove quarters into that box and dance until we dropped.

My folks also belonged to a dance club called the Midnighters that met once a month in local community centers. I used to love it when it was their turn to be on the set-up committee, because I'd get to help hang streamers and decorate the tables. And my dad would lead me in a fox trot around the floor at least once before we left to go home so they could get ready for the evening's festivities.

When the soulmate and I were in our twenties we went out dancing every weekend and often midweek as well. It's probably one of the reasons I've got a hearing loss today, but that's another story. Still, we actually began scaling back, then stopped going entirely when the venues started playing their music so loud you had to yell just to be heard across a tiny table.

So these days I only get to dance occasionally. But I get my kicks vicariously watching Dancing With the Stars. I've never been a fan of reality TV and I don't watch the Tuesday night episodes in which a couple is eliminated. But I love watching the actual dancing. The improvement throughout the season can be amazing and it's just plain fun to tune in to view. And some of the talent is phenomenal from day one. In fact I was stunned to learn that (Cheeta Girl) Sabrina Bryan was eliminated Tuesday, which I just now discovered as I went searching for a picture. In all honesty, I'd never heard of her before this show, but her natural ability blew me away. I sure never saw her elimination coming.

Guess maybe I oughtta be voting instead of just watching, huh?

So what kind of activities do you remember fondly from childhood? Or do you have a passion that perhaps started young that lingers to this day?

And, hey? Anybody else out there watching Dancing?

Stella introduces www.writersarereaders.com

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