I don’t do sick well…

So the reason I’ve been gone for a few days is I’ve been sick. It was a nasty cold; although I thought for awhile it might have been the bubonic plague, tuberculosis, rabies, bronchitis, typhoid fever, malaria, and the flu all mixed together in some awful cocktail of sickness, I was wrong. That didn’t change the fact that I was out of it for a few days. Most colds don’t knock me over as bad as this one did, but boy, this one did. I will admit I’ve never been the best at being sick. I’m whiney. I hate taking medication. I wouldn’t go to the doctor unless I have too. This time I did call the doctor, I was grateful that they didn’t want to see me. I ate chicken soup… I hate chicken soup. I didn’t take a shower… I take a shower at least once a day. I napped… I NEVER nap. I didn’t do dishes, clean up, or help with anything. My husband actually missed work to stay home with me. That was the first time he’s ever stayed home for me being sick. He has come home a few times early so I didn’t have to get the kids from school when I’ve been sick before, but the missing work thing was new. He also felt bad, he brought this one home. This was just a nasty cold. For about 4 days straight (5 for Richard) we ran fevers of 99 – 99.8. No medication was strong enough to knock it down. Thank goodness it never went high. Richard had a headache with his, I didn’t. I even used being sick to stop drinking caffeine. I always get a headache when I don’t drink it, but I was too busy napping and coughing to feel it. I had some of the running nose, Richard never did. The kids are still sick. My oldest (asthmatic) seems to be holding on to it, but the fever is gone. I think hers lasted 5 days. We got sick the same day so Richard helped take care of her. My little one still has a light fever, but no headache. I could keep going on, but I was bored being sick, so I’m sure others don’t want to be bored hearing about my cold. I did nothing for those few days really. I jumped on Twitter once or twice and that’s about it. I’m hoping that I didn’t say anything too foolish. Typing under the influence of sickness could be very bad.
I hope everyone out there stays healthy, gets rest, and stays home if their sick.

I wrote that right after I got sick with the cold over a week ago, and then there was a tummy something that happened. I’m still not feeling perfect but I think I can get back to work. I was just doing the bare minimum over the last few days. Like whining, taking the kids to school, trying to eat, trying to keep it down, and doing the laundry that had to be done. I really shouldn’t complain too much. One year Richard was sick on January 1st and he was off and on with something new until his b-day in March. It didn’t seem like there was a full break.
I’m going to duck and cover whenever someone coughs or sneezes now. But I think (and hope) that I’m back in the loop. Now I’m catching up on everything… laundry, housework, laundry, dishes, laundry, reading blogs, laundry, posting blogs, laundry, and writing.

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Loves first kiss or loves first crush…

Everyone keeps asking me what it feels like to have a book out.  The best answer I can give is in a metaphor.

 It’s your senior year.  You’ve been dating a very handsome and wonderful guy for almost 6 months.  Neither you nor he has said, “I love you” yet.
Your heart skips a beat when you pass him in the halls.  You smile when you hear his voice on the other end of the phone.  You know you’re falling in love with him.  But why hasn’t he said that he loves you?  This feeling is making you worried and uncomfortable.
He calls after school on a Friday and asks if tomorrow you would like to go out to your favorite restaurant with him … just the two of you … no friends.  You feel the butterflies in your stomach and try not to sound too eager when you say “yes.”
You and he have been on many dates before, but usually friends are there too.  And he’s come over to watch movies at your house.  You’ve been over to his a few times as well.  You always see him, at least once, over the weekend.  But this date was going to be special; you’re going to tell him how you feel.
That night you can’t sleep.  You don’t even feel like calling and talking to your best friend because if she finds out it might get to him before you tell him.  She’s a great best friend, but you can hold your breath longer than she can hold a secret.  You lay there most of the night thinking of all the things he might say.  You’re hoping your brave enough tomorrow.  You’re scared, but you still love him.  You think about not going tomorrow out of fear, but you need to.  If you don’t tell him tomorrow, you know you never will.  You finally pass out into dreamland.
The next morning, when you wake up, you have a new zit in the dead center of your forehead.  You take longer than you ever have getting ready.  Thank goodness you started at noon and he isn’t going to pick you up until 6pm.  When you get ready you cover up your pimple with your bangs and some foundation.  You wear your hair down and in curls; because that is the way he likes it.  You take your time with each curl to make sure it is faultless.  You wear a dress that is most flattering to your curves.  You shaved your legs more careful then you ever have before; out of fear of having to wear a bandage under you tights.  You do your make-up just a little different, but it turns out great.  As you put on your new shoes you see you have a run in your tights.  With a heavy sigh you change them, now you are ready.  You look in the mirror.  Everything is done.  You look at your hands, you forgot your fingernails.  Tonight you need everything perfect, you don’t want one single detail to go unnoticed.  You sit down and do your nails.  The doorbell rings right as you are putting on your lip gloss and perfume.  You are ready.  You walk down the stairs, more nervous than you’ve ever been before.  He’s there waiting for you.  Your mom tells you look cute, she smiles, and leaves after you’ve descended the stair case.  He helps you with your coat.  You wished he would say something.
On the way there he mentions that you smell nice.  You smile and say thank you, so happy to receive a complement.  At your destination he turns, looks at you, and smiles but says nothing.  He gets out of the car.  You feel very panicky right now.  You’re out here, no friends to joke with, no car of your own to leave in, what if he dumps you and you’re all alone.  The car door opens, it’s him.  You step out.  Both of you walk into the restaurant.  You can’t find words.  The two of you always talk, but there are no words now.  You feel a lump in your throat.  You look around nervously.  When you are both seated he makes a joke about how maybe the two of you should have come with a few friends.  That didn’t help you any, now you’re thinking about not saying anything and never leaving your house again.
As you are sitting across the table from him you look at him.  He is so handsome.  He is everything you love and want in a boyfriend.  You think of your first date for a minute and smile at him.  Then, without much more thinking, you say it … you say, “I love you.”  He looks at you for what feels like eternity with a blank stare.  You just wish you could crawl under a rock and hide.  But you said it, it’s out there.  He knows and you are awaiting his response…

 Yeah, that is where I am right now.  He’s staring at me.  I know that he is going to give me many different answers.  Some will be bad, some good, but I hope that the good out weighs that bad.

For all authors out there who have been here before me, I just want to let you know; I think you are all very brave people.  For all of you that are getting here … I hope he says that he loves you very much.  Good luck to you all!

I just don’t want to be that lady…

I’m worried about signings. I one time watched a lady at her book signing, who must not have advertized, sit there alone right next to the cash register with no one buying her book. This image is a little haunting to me. She was a children’s author (with a book for ages 9-12) and her book cover was… well, to put it bluntly, bad. This was at our local indie book store. My husband, children, and I hang out there almost every Friday for about an hour or two looking for a new book for each of the kids and Richard (my husband) looks for himself and his school library, sometimes we bring our daughter’s friends and buy them a book as well. I love watching and helping children want to read! Anyway, this was one of the times I had about 3 other kids with me so we were there a little longer and each kid looked over at the author and her books as we walked in. But not one of them wanted it. They were not rude, thank goodness, but they were not interested. I could see anxiousness in the poor authors eyes, she was screaming, “Please, lady with 5 kids, please, please just buy one book.” My husband wasn’t even interested. I should have bought one, but I’m not one to ever force a book on my kids as long as they’re reading something.
When we finally left Richard said, out of earshot, “With a cover like that, not one of the kids in my school would even look at it.”
The poor lady, she had a massive stack of books. I read the back, I don’t remember what it said, but it reminded me a lot of Frindle by Andrew Clements. My oldest didn’t even like that one and it was popular. I felt a little guilty about judging a book by its cover some, but I did read the title and the back. I mainly felt bad for her. The whole time we were there I was the only one who looked at her book. The author perked up when she saw us enter, and we let her down. She didn’t speak up, she just sat still, and it took me talking to her before she talked to me. I think if she would have sparked a conversation with the kids she would have at least made a sale with my oldest daughter’s best friend. Her best friend grabs book and looks at the back first! She’s awesome that way (with this whole cover thing I forgot that there are people like her). But the author said nothing, she did nothing, it was sad. This is where my fear of signings stems from, the image of this lady. I know I can sale a book, heck I have sold more copies of Monster by Walter Dean Myers than I could even count while I was working at Barnes & Noble. And it is a book I never read (I did read some reviews), but I told moms that couldn’t get their high school sons to read about it. I was truthful, I told them I’ve read the reviews, that I hadn’t read the book, but that almost all teen boys enjoy it. If I can sale a book I don’t know, I’m not too worried about one I know everything about. I just do not want to be that lady… alone with my books… no one there… and somehow wind whistles in the background while a tumble weed passes by. I know I’m just overly nervous. I know when the times comes, I will not just sit there too scared to speak, I will advertize as best I can. I saw her flaws and I will not repeat them. I’m not even at that step in my book, but my fear keeps going back to that poor lady. I guess I’m used to the sales floor and cash-wrap or the library stacks and check-out; I’ve never been the lady behind that desk.

This was something I wrote in an e-mail (I changed some of it) and then thought about it more and more and realized I should post it in a blog…