Wednesday, April 27, 2005

It's Still Cold At The Beach

My husband loves to go to the beach, and I do, too. However, hubby always assumes that whenever it is sunny and mild several miles inland, the same weather will prevail at the beach. I know better because I grew up by the water. It is invariably at least ten degrees cooler at the beach plus there is a stiff breeze blowing as well. Hubby grew up in Greenpoint.

We went to the beach today. Though there had been showers in the morning, the sun came out in the afternoon. I brought my jacket. Hubby did not want to bring his, but decided to toss it in the car at the last moment. It was a good thing he did. Only a few people had left their footprints in the sand today. The water was choppy and the air was misty. To me, it was a great day for a walk along the water's edge. Hubby wanted to know how long it will be before it's a good day for the beach. I told him that might be in July.

But I like it better now, when there's nobody there except the sea gulls. Today I listened to the lulling sound of the surf. In July, somebody's CD player will be blasting out music.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

A Day of Romance

I had a very nice time at the library today. I was given flowers, balloons, and even lunch. Six other romance writers and I were part of a Day of Romance celebration. People strolled through the library and talked with us. Some of them bought books. Some just picked up our bookmarks.

What I enjoyed most was talking with the other writers. We discussed covers and plots--a little bit about our real lives, but a lot about the book business. The librarians never told us to be quiet. :^) In fact, one of them seemed to be an interested listener.

I hope we get invited back!

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Some Creep Stole My Car Radio

There are mean people in this world--nasty, rotten low-life thieves who have no qualms about taking what they want. One of those creeps ran off with my car radio and CD player. Inside the CD player was my favorite Dixie Chicks CD. None of my other CDs were taken. I guess the creep does not have the same musical interests as I do.

The day started out so well. I had no idea some miscreant would have a hankering for my car radio. At 7:45 a.m. this morning, I pulled into the parking lot of a very nice hotel. I was excited about attending a writers' workshop. I parked my car as close to the front of the hotel as possible--which was not all that close but in a direct line of sight to the entrance.

I spent the day happily drinking in tips on writing. The presentation was terrific and sparked a lot of good ideas that will help me in editing my own book.

At 4 p.m. when the workshop ended, I went back to my car. I opened the door to find the car radio gone. Where the radio used to be was a big empty space with wires hanging out. The plastic trim around the radio had been tossed on the passenger seat. The glove compartment had been opened, but the hoodlum did not snitch the two maxipads. This was a rather upsetting experience. I never had anyone steal my car radio until today. I suddenly did not feel very safe in the middle of the parking lot.

I went back into the hotel. They wrote up a report and called the police for me. A young, but good-looking policeman arrived and looked at my car. He said whoever took the radio, popped the lock on the door to open my car. He seemed surprised that the radio had been stolen in broad daylight. He got back into his car, tapped my phone number into his laptop, and asked a few more questions. He handed me a Post-It note with the phone number of the police department and the number and my case number. In two business days, I can get a copy of the report, which I can then give to my insurance agent.

I got back into my car while the police officer was still there. I worried whether the engine would start, but it did.

So now I'm wondering what good is locking the door of the car if thieves can easily pop the lock? Why bother?

I'm Catholic and I know I have to forgive the thug. I have prayed for him--so he better watch out, his conscience will be bothering him soon. Hopefully, he'll reconsider before he breaks into someone else's car.

Still, one good thing came out of the incident. If I need to put a young, but good-looking policeman into one of my novels it won't be a problem to dream him up.

Thursday, April 14, 2005

Is Anyone Reading Anymore?

Today my husband and I drove out to Long Island with daughter #3. She has been getting treated for a back problem and today she had an epidural. (Not fun.) I brought along my Rocket to read the latest e-book I had loaded in there while I sat in the waiting room. My husband brought along his model railroad magazine. There was a man sitting across from us in the waiting room reading a novel and another man a few chairs away who was also reading a novel.

The television was blaring away, but nobody was watching it. Two women were sleeping. Another man was whistling--I could not recognize the tune, I don't think he had any particular melody in mind. There were magazines scattered on a table, but few people picked them up.

We were there for a l-o-n-g time. My husband went outside after a while to walk around the area. He found a Subway sandwich shop where we later grabbed something to eat.

It amazed me to see so many people who were not reading. With a loved one going through a medical procedure, a book is the perfect distraction.

Our daughter got through the epidural just fine, though it will be a few days before we know if it was effective.

Perhaps novels and other books should be available in all waiting rooms. Certainly, the televisions should be turned off. Nobody is watching the box and it is wasting electricity.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

I finished it!

I ended my sixth novel, A Rush Of Light, this morning. I spent my spring break this week dedicated to the task of getting to the end. I still have to edit the book once more, and there are a few plot points that need ironing out. But it is essentially done--on time. :^)

Today, I'll celebrate by going to an art show with Mom and Dad.