Monday, May 22, 2017

Scenes From Hoboken

Banana Girl and I spent Sunday afternoon in Hoboken as part of her Mother’s Day gift to me. She took me to lunch at Honeygrow. OMG, it was amazing!
She first went there on a trip to DC and came home raving about it. She’s my foodie. When she gave me a certificate for lunch with her, I suggested we find a local one and go together. Our options were Hoboken or New Brunswick. We chose Hoboken.
We made our own stir fry and then split a honeybar. I cannot wait to go back.
While we were there, I took some photos of Hoboken. My upcoming book takes place there and I thought the photos would come in handy.
Hoboken is a small city across the Hudson River from New York City. Lots of young urban professionals live there because it’s easy to commute across the river to jobs in New York. It has lots of great restaurants and bars. I remember hanging out there after I graduated college.
I took a few of the town to give readers a feel for the location.
I took some of high-rise apartments, since both of my characters live in them—the other option are smaller brownstones.
And I took a photo of the riverfront, where my hero goes to contemplate next steps.
Of course, while I was there, I had to take a photo or two of the view.
If you’re ever in the area, definitely take a look (and stop at Honeygrow!).

Addicted to Love…coming July 21, 2017.
Preorder now

Monday, May 8, 2017

Brakes and Helicopters

I’m sitting in the car place because there’s something wrong with my daughter’s brakes. I’m sure there are things just as scary or even more so, but I’ve been awake for two nights terrified of a car with messed up brakes, and she hasn’t even driven it!

For some reason, car places are closed on Sundays. I know, no one should be required to work seven days a week, but when my daughter tells me her brakes are making a weird noise, when my other daughter uses her typical exaggeration and tells me it’s the worst noise ever, and even my husband, who never hears any car noises, can hear it, I want a car place to check out the car ASAP.

Unfortunately, snapping my fingers did not encourage my car guy to open just for me. So I called at seven thirty this morning, when his website said he opened. No one answered. I called at seven forty-five with the same result. Finally at eight he answered the phone and told me to bring the car in, which I did.

I heard the noise. I reminded myself all the ways to stop a car when the brakes fail. I cursed a lot at turns and near large buses and trucks and highways. But I made it, without incident (and my nerves were due probably more to my own mishegas than to anything actually happening).

Unlike most other times, my car guy didn’t laugh at me when I described the problem. Maybe because they’re brakes and I’m not the only one who thinks they’re scary. I use him because he’s good and reasonably priced, not because of his sparkling personality.

As I sit here waiting, he’s talking to other customers, one of whom is a dad of a college student in California whose tire blew out and now the dad is nervous about the other three tires. He’s asking my car guy if the tires should be replaced. The only thing preventing my car guy from responding, “How the hell should I know, the car is 3,000 miles away!” is that the dad asking is a guy. Remember that sparkling personality? Well, it’s a sexist one. But he really knows cars, as long as they’re NOT 3,000 miles away. So he uses restraint, which I can visibly see, and suggests his son take his car to someone out there. The dad isn’t sure his son will do that. My car guy says short of flying out there to take his car himself, there’s only so much the dad can do. The dad reluctantly agrees. So my car guys says he’ll call a repair guy he knows out in California, who can probably help the college student, and the dad leaves happy.

This mom will be leaving happy, too, with two brand new rear brakes, knowing her daughter will be safe. And hopefully, I’ll get some sleep, but probably not today, since my car guy also makes really strong coffee!

Monday, May 1, 2017

Hurry Up And Wait

Those who know me know I have a few good qualities, but patience is not one of them. So it’s driving me crazy knowing that I’ll be getting a release date for Addicted to Love, and a cover for In the Moment any day now.

I keep checking my email, pacing, checking it again and pacing some more. It’s great for my FitBit steps, but not much else.

I’m not contacting my editor to find out when they’ll arrive. I don’t want to nag (even though I’m really, REALLY good at that), and in the original guidelines I was given by my publisher, it stated very clearly that there’s a process and a timeline and my editor will find out about these specific things about the same time I will. So bothering her is useless, will give me a bad reputation, and won’t hurry things along. And I’m not frustrated with her, or even my publisher. They have lots of other authors to get to, there’s a line, and I’m somewhere on it.

I just really want to know my release date and I really want to see my new cover. I have a to-do list that’s waiting for me and I can’t do anything else on it until I have my release date. I have postcards ready to mail as soon as I have a release date. And I have a lot of shouting from the rooftops to do.

Same with my cover. I loved the one for Addicted to Love so much, I can’t wait to see the one for In the Moment. And show it to everyone else. And then create a to-list for that book.

It’s a great problem to have, I know. Doesn’t make the time pass any quicker, though!

Monday, April 17, 2017

Me, Myself & I

My favorite day of the week is Monday. The kids go back to school, the husband goes back to work, and I get the house to myself.

It’s not that I don’t love them to pieces. I do. And I love having them home and doing things with them and spending time with them. But I need my alone time, and after a weekend where my routine changes significantly, I need Monday to regroup.

Today is the first time I’ve had the house to myself in 13 days. Thirteen! First, the Princess was home recovering from having her wisdom teeth removed. Then we were all preparing for and participating in Passover seders. Then Banana Girl and I went college shopping.

And now everyone has gone back to their regularly scheduled activities, leaving me home alone in silence.

It’s not that I don’t like people, but if I don’t get a certain amount of alone time, I start to go a little crazy (or crazier than usual). So I will take advantage of the next six hours to do whatever I need to get done. I’ll clean, getting everything just right until everyone comes home and messes it all back up again. I’ll do the piles of laundry that have been sitting waiting for me (my husband did all of the other laundry, so I’m not complaining at all). I’ll edit, since I’m on deadline again. I’ll probably talk to myself (I tend to do that a lot), but no one will be around to hear me, wonder if I’m talking to them, wonder why I’m talking to myself when they’re around, or complain. And all the while I’ll get my head into gear so that when everyone comes home six hours from now I can be the sane, rational person they’re hoping I’ll be.

Monday, April 10, 2017

Happy Passover!

I might have taught my kids my fear of bugs. I’ve tried hard not to, but even I’m starting to believe in my lack of success.

While at dinner with friends Friday night, I texted my girls to find out why they were still home—they were supposed to be going out to dinner with my parents, but my stalker app said they were at our house. The Princess texted that they had a “bit of an issue in regard to a very large spider.”

I started to laugh.

She told me it was dead and flushed.

I told her I was proud of her.

She then informed me my dad came over and killed it.

He came over to my house, killed the spider, went back to his own house and waited for my girls to follow him so they could go to dinner.

I will be the first to admit I’ve called my father over to my house to kill a bug. As an adult. In fact, about three years ago. Usually because my husband refuses to leave work to do it, and my dad is retired. So the fact he came over to do this doesn’t surprise me nearly as much as it should. Even he admits it was big.

The part that does surprise me is the killing part.

When I called him to come over, it was to kill a cicada. It was on the window on the INSIDE of my house. As in, sharing space with me. I cried. He came over.

But he didn’t kill it. He placed it back outside and let it go back on its merry way, meaning if it managed to find its way inside the first time, it was now free to do so again.

He let it live.

A cicada is also known as a locust, as in one of the ten plagues of Egypt THAT CONVINCED THE PHAROAH TO LET THE HEBREWS LEAVE EGYPT!!!! Their presence was enough to get rid of an entire labor force.

But he let it live. It can now breed other locusts able to make their way into my house.

So as you’re sitting around your Passover seder this year, think about that.

And if you need bugs killed, call my dad. Unless it’s a cicada.