You guessed canned tomatoes, cabbage, or grapefruit (Canned Love)
No one suggested beans, which can make you toot
You supposed soups, sprouts, oranges or sauerkraut
I’m tickled by the guess of pickles, have no doubt.
As I placed my head on the pillow to sleep, I suddenly thought about Artie. My heart choked up as if something was squeezing it, hard.
The pain pushed the blood, salt, and tears out of my soul.
I rose out of bed, realizing that sleep was impossible, and walked quietly, almost hypnotically, over to the master bath. What I needed was a good long soak in the tub . . . Continue reading
In my world, skin shouldn’t have to be thick. I slather it with lotions to make it soft, sunburn-free, and smooth. I’ve never encountered a lotion claiming to:
“THICKEN YOUR SKIN! Lavender or Rose Scent. Never again let a mean word seep in.”
No, I rub lavender body lotion day and night to keep skin from drying out in the NE weather.
At least, that’s my first guess when I go on the Amazon page for my book The Right Wrong Man and read – gasp – a bad review.
My stomach turns into a turnip, my eyes moisten, and my soul shrivels into a sniveling snail.
How could this reader be so…so… mean? Continue reading
This past weekend my guy and I watched the movie Back to the Future in honor of its 30th anniversary. I haven’t seen that movie since it came out in 1985. The movie, and Marty and the professor, have aged well.
The first time I watched the entire series (Back to the Future, I, II, and III), I didn’t catch the back story of Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox) and his “chicken” button. That is, he’s a pretty level-headed kid unless someone calls him chicken, as in wimp, fraidy cat, coward.
Once someone pushes that button, Marty stops seeing sense and instead pushes through his fear and goes after whatever he’s afraid of. (And several times, gets into trouble because of his hot button-pushed head.)
But I can’t relate to that emotion, I hum to myself righteously. I don’t have any hot buttons like Marty does. Continue reading
Just like God, and book reading, and carb-eating.
But we all know they never went away.
So I laugh when people squirm after they learn I write romantic suspense.
“Inconsequential!” are the comments I hear (or the sneers I detect).
I am unfazed.
But still, I’m encouraged when I read articles like a recent Time Q&A piece on Nancy Myers, the writer/director of the new movie The Intern (starring Robert DeNiro and Ann Hathaway), in which Myers addresses the state of romance.* Continue reading