More History Lite - and a Very Good Read

"The White Houses" by Amy Bloom  218 pages, $27

Bloom has done a thorough research job on the relationship between Eleanor Roosevelt during the White House years with Lorena Hickok, a newspaper reporter.  Publicly, they were good friends; "Hick" as she was nicknamed, was on the WH payroll as an assistant to "the man behind FDR" Louis Howe who lived in the White House as did Missy LeHand FDR's private secretary (and so much more, ahem.)  "Hick had the connecting bedroom with Eleanor.

The White House was a seething hotbed of people misbehaving sexually and who'd a thunk it in the late '30s and early '40s there!  The press knew all about all of it, but kept their mouths shut.  Shades of Kennedy to come … 

I must admit to a certain prurient curiosity about FDR's sexual abilities in as much as he had to be helped into and out of bed.  Er, might prove a bit awkward, don't you think, too?  I mean if you can't get onto the playground without help...and rather limiting for athleticism in the sack.  Reverse missionary?  

For years Eleanor and Hick were believed to be "just friends" in that peculiar way that the world in those years rarely recognized "lesbians" but merely assumed that they were what they said they were:  good friends.  

And for years Franklin knew all about Eleanor and Hick; just as they knew about Missy and Lucy Mercer.  (And so did the White House staff."  Omerta ruled. 

This story is largely Hick talking about this relationship (again based we are assured by her letters)  which included their favorite places (weeks on end at Val-Kil, Eleanor's cabin) and their trip to report back to FDR on the state of the poor people which was something of a honeymoon for the pair as Eleanor refused  Secret Servicemen on it.

Hick clearly was a toughie and reading of her childhood - horrible - father molested her, mother died badly of cancer when Hick was 13; she'd already been caring for her two younger sisters since their births.  She was sent out to work at 16, instead escaped with a traveling circus where she was the secretary,  then when it got close enough to Chicago, decamped and looked up a sympathetic  cousin and got through high school.  Instead of college, she became a reporter.         

These words may not actively portray how fascinating it is to read actual quotes - leaving Missy Le Hand's burial, Hick remarked, "He (FDR) ate her.  (gesture at the descending coffin) Those are just bones."  Eleanor said, "Really, Hick."  

Missy Le hand was his private secretary for 21 years.  Stress-induced strokes laid her low and #3 killed her when she was only 48 years old.

Lucy Mercer ran with FDR, then married, and then went back to a limited relationship with him.  She died age 57 of leukemia.  

Travel Dept. - New Views and Opinions

You might think as I did that there's really nothing much more to say about "travel" than the fact that we do it; that when things go south on us while traveling, we write about it in various newspaper Travel sections or blog the horror stories (guilty) and throw in some word of mouth to warn others off of dangers in (fill in location.)  Certainly useful information in most cases.

But to my surprise, here comes a new one and to my even greater surprise, it's actually quite interesting!  It is:  blog.the discoverer.com  

To give you some examples.  Glamping has given birth to Poshtels which is to hostels as glamping is to camping out (hardly with bathrooms, servants, etc. )  What a poshtel has retained from a hostel -think backpacking youths on a limited budget and a remarkable ability to bunk with total strangers who also share a communal bathroom.  Not glamorous in any way shape or form.  Not here at any rate.   In rather Spartan quarters at that.  Pictures of bunk beds float through my mind.

But now comes poshtels which began originally in Europe and today have search sites like Generator which lists temporary abodes available in Amsterdam, Barcelona, Berlin, London, Madrid - and getting an edge in - Miami.  Poshtels have private rooms with a bath, sometimes even a penthouse or a terrace with a wonderful view along with free wi-fi, a palatable free breakfast for up to $200 a night which would be considered "budget" in such burgs as Manhattan.

Another article was titled Totally Under-Rated U.S. Cities.  Such as Camden, Maine, north of Kennebunkport.  Beaufort, SC, looked so appealing that I would like to go back and actually stay there.  We have been there - for lunch on our way from Savanah to Charleston - but based on the article merits a second, closer look.  Another redheaded orphan listed was Hilo, Hawaii.

Everybody loves a bargain or something better than the heavily-advertised darling.  Such was the feature on comparison attractions.  The London Eye (expensive, long waits, shortish ride) vs.  the Sky Garden which is the world's highest public garden.  It, too, is located in London and has free admittance, a restaurant and several pubs.  And sensational views, presumably surrounded by attractive vegetation.

The Leaning Tower of Pisa vs. the Towers of Bologna - there are two and the taller is 318 ft. tall.

The Eiffel Tower vs. what looks like an office building, the Maine-Montparnasse Tower.  It has a terrace which is flooded during the winter so that visitors can get in a little ice skating - with a sensational view.

The Cliffs of Moher, 700 ft. vs. Slieve Cliffs, 1,900 ft. near Donegal.

All in all, I found this sort of travel magazine entertaining, and informative.  In short, Armchair Traveler - here's your seat!

Oscar's Outlandish Outfits

Richie and I have not seen any of the movies presented; heard any of the songs or have heard of more than such as Glenn Close, Lady Gaga or Bradley Cooper (of whom I know only that he's considered quite handsome by such as People magazine.)  Name familiarity extends to Spike Lee, but none of his films either.

Speaking of the Spikester, I thought he was wearing a French train conductors' outfit, complete to pill box hat.   Train conductors all over France may be looking for their work clothes...

Melissa McCarthy's gown with a 40 ft. train, littered with what looked like casually tossed stuffed animals across it's breadth, and the handheld bunny puppet that tried to steal the show were amusing for a second, but no more than that.  It was the kind of sight gag that doesn't have any shelf life at all.
Several presenters treated us to long, long trains.  If this is a fashion trend, God help the ladies.  But wait!  Men have entered this doomed train effort.  How did you like Billy Porter in a wasp-waisted tuxedo with a skirted train?!  Was that something?  First glimpse I didn't know whether it was a man of a woman.  In a later interview, he said that he thought The Oscars deserved "a minute."

Jason Momoa's pink tuxedo looked as if he'd bought it off the rack  in the Boys Department with no time for alterations.

Kacey Musgroves at first sight - "What's that pile of pink cotton candy doing dumped in the aisle?"

All in all it was a beautiful display of full tilt boogie bad taste.  And hard work - Fasten an old sheet around your waist for a train and kick your way around the house for awhile.  You could add weights to the train to emulate Glenn Close, whose beaded dress was said to weigh 42 lbs.  

Something different for the mailman if you take your coutume out for a spin.  Just explain that you'll be doing the Oscars next year.

ADD:  The Vanity Fair Oscar Party dinner started with Black Truffle Lasagna and ended with carts of Inn 'n Out Burgers wending their way through the venue.   Lunch at Inn 'n Out and feel like a star?

vf.com is the Vanity Fair Website where they have photos of the stars and which designer they're wearing.  Go, Label Hounds!

A New Deviled Egg Recipe!

Admittedly, this is a crowded field - off-hand I can think of three people who all have their fans and followers.  Spicy vs. sweet (pickle relish) baby shrimp, yolks rendered goopy by too generous use of mayonnaise …

This caught my eye while perusing Bon Appetit yesterday afternoon.  Untasted, I imagine it would taste basically of salt and heat.  See what you think -

SOY-MARINATED EGGS

Hard boil 6 large eggs, for 7 minutes, then put them in an ice bath and set aside.

2 cups of water
5 peeled garlic cloves
3 dried chiles de arbol OR 1 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
3/4 cup soy sauce
3 T mirin
2 T unseasoned rice vinegar.

Mix together in a sauce pan and boil and simmer for 5 minutes.
Peel the eggs and put them in the "broth" and let marinate for a minimum of 1 hour.  Quarter and serve.

The Overcrowded Urn

The recent thoroughly-covered (and then some) death of French designer (but you knew that; how could you not in the past couple of days) of Karl Lagerfeld, 85, of pancreatic cancer has left me with conflicting information.  At first, I read that he would be cremated and his ashes joined with his previous love interest.  In the fullness of time, Choupette the cat would join them.  All well and good.

And then I read that his mother and lover's ashes have already been mingled and that Karl and the cat would be joining them!  And I started thinking, "That's going to have to be a mighty big urn …"

Other disquieting news filtered in.  Both mother and lover's ashes had been dispersed in the garden of the Crematorium du Mont Valerien where the cremations took place.

And the media ran shots of his fashion friends "at the funeral in the crematorium" despite his frequent admonitions that he did not want a funeral as such.  Apparently his feelings were not considered as these noteworthies would tell him "Au voir" whether he liked it or not!  Consequently there was a shot of the plain black coffin being carried up a shallow flight of stairs to a room specifically set aside for remembering the deceased.  Choice of videos - three featuring the countryside, the mountains or the sea.   Ditto music.

So typically French … the prices (and my estimated cost accounting.)

 (The French use a comma rather than a decimal point but it's confusing so am going with what you see.)

Adult - 528.12  (includes one barrel of fuel; small blowtorch rental and fuel for it.)
Infant - age 1 to 12 years - 264.04 Euros  (check for braces to avoid shrapnel.)
Baby less than one year old - 132.01 Euros.  (one pint fuel; one book of matches

To rent the Goodbye Room - 132.01
To rent urn space for a year, 155.97
For dispersal in their designated garden, 49.72 Euros

For those of you that enjoy math, today's conversion rate is:  $1.13 buys one Euro.   Since we're used to seeing U S dollars, the above all looks tremendously cheap.  Hollow laugh.  The Euro is a deceptive booger.  When you get home and your credit card bills appear?  You may get a shock that will kill you!  Better to die in America.  I believe the Neptune Society is something like - or used to be - $900 good old American dollars.

\\

My Goodness! Things Are Tougher Than I Thought in California!

I read in today's Sacramento Bee that a new bill is pending on the floor of the California Senate.  Known rather informally as "You kill, you grill" this new statute would allow drivers who accidentally hit and kill a deer on our vast wandering highways and byways can keep the carcass and dine on it.  So, too,  may people walking along the road who come across a dead, edible animal.  Elk was mentioned but I can't remember any reports of vehicle vs. elk.  Be that as it may.

One Sen. Bob J. Archileta, Dem.-Montebello is the proud sponsor of Senate Bill 395.  He said in an interview that an estimated 20,000 deer alone are slain annually.  That's a lot of potential deerskin jackets or moccasins.  Post banquet, that is.

If we're driving down to Palm Springs, say, and we see groups of raggedy ass people combing through the roadside brush, we will know what they're doing -  if SB395 passes.

Only in California, right?

O You Punsters!

I have been reliably informed that the following is an old John Lemon play list.  With no further ado about provenance or anything else -

#1 - Here comes the sunkist

#2 - I sour standing there

#3 - Strawberry lemonade fields forever

#4 - Lemon twist and shout!

#5 - I wanna hold your rind

Squeeze on, mates! (my modest addition)

Petsitting Can Bring In the Big Bucks!

Yesterday's announcement of the death of Chanel designer Karl Lagerfeld, 85,of  pancreatic cancer, came as a surprise, especially the amount of coverage his cat Choupette (Cupcake) received in the ensuing headlines.

Lagerfeld had stated that he wanted his ashes mingled with Choupette's for disposal.  Whichever - man or cat - died first the ashes were to be set aside, waiting for the other. When Lagerfeld, Choupette have all gone to their maker, their ashes will be mixed with those of Lagerfeld's previous most adored lover.  (Aside:  he much preferred hired services, remarking that affection was more important and averred that he and the dead (of AIDs) lover never engaged in sex.)

It is expected that she will inherit some of Lagerfeld's estimated fortune of $150 million.  She already has two personal maids and routinely went everywhere that Karl did.  But she wasn't a dead beat (as most cats are) as she "earned" (used dubiously) $3.3 million doing commercials for Vauxhall (cars) and Shu Uemura, a Japanese line of beauty products.

What is it with fashion designers and their pets?  Alexander McQueen, British fashion genius, left $82,000 to his three English bull terriers plus an additional $164,000 to a pair of animal shelters.

Leona Helmsley, the owner of the soubriquet "The Queen of Mean" clearly felt that animals understood her better than people and left her Maltese "Trouble" $12 million.  Who promptly got so many death threats that part of this inheritance had to go for round the clock security.

Oprah Winfrey has earmarked $30 million to her five dogs.

Reportedly, beloved Betty White, 96, set aside $5 million mostly for her pet golden Lab.

Miles Blackwell, a publisher, left $15 million to his pet chicken hen Gigoo but only because his wife to whom he had previously  left the $15 mil died before he did.  It is not true that in return and respect, Gigoo now turns out solid gold eggs.

When Gene Roddenberry, of Star Trek's widow died,  she left $4 million for their pets and $1 million for their caretaker to stay on in the mansion.

In fact, most of the insanely rich people also specified that the caretaker at the time of their demise should move into the mansion(s) to take care of the pets as they are accustomed to being there.

For our part, in a much more modest fashion, we have it in our wills that if we have cats at the time of our death, the Hermosa Animal Hospital - clients for 30 years now - will receive $1,000 to be used as they wish if they will make every effort to find a new good owner.  If none is found, that they live on as blood donors at the hospital.  (Of note, HAH always have a couple of blood donor cats roaming around and they are spoiled by everyone on staff.)  If they're older cats with the beginnings of the disease(s) that will kill them, euthanize them now.

This is an easy enough thing to do and I recommend it.  Especially if every one of your heirs cannot (or will not) take them. And at our ages, (late '70s) with previous cats that lived an average 15.6 years we have no business getting any replacement cats.  Streak is 16 and Fred is five so, Fred, you're it!

The Back Story Behind a Famous Photograph

The photo?  A sailor has grabbed a woman in a nurse's garb and planted a big kiss on her lips.  The occasion shot on August 14, 1945, was the day that Japan surrendered to the U.S.  Alfred Eisenstaedt, the photog who got one of the best grab shots in photo history went on to a glorious career.  The couple went on to lead their lives unidentified for many years, until the '60s.

After the photo became famous, he was asked if he'd ever followed up with Greta - asked for her phone number or anything?  "No," he replied,  "I had a date with me."

Today's paper ran a very small obit on George Mendonsa, the sailor.  Two days before his 96th birthday, he fell and quickly died of his injuries.  He and his wife of 70 years dwelt in an assisted-living facility, their daughter disclosed.

His prey (thinking about today's rage at this sexual assault!) died in 2016, aged 92.   Greta Zimmer Friedman was not a nurse, but a dental assistant.

Born in Austria to Jewish parents,  at age 15, she and her sisters immigrated to the United States.  Their parents, unfortunately could not escape and died in a concentration camp.  Greta continued her interest in fashion by attending fashion schools using the dental tech salary to pay her way.

She married, they had two children.  Due to his work as a scientist, he was buried in Arlington National Cemetery where she lies with him today.

I know for a fact that she occasionally dabbled in posing for art classes because I sketched her in one.  My drawing teacher the late George Gardiner and she were friends and a couple of times, when an expected model had cancelled, she posed for our class wearing the complete nurse's uniform of the day - opaque white stockings, low-heeled white shoes, the uniform and the cap.  She and George talked during the breaks so she didn't mingle with us, the students.  My sketches of her were included in a very small showing of student's works.  It was a big deal at the time my class had her for a model, but these many years later I'd never thought about it until I read this morning's notice of his death. My sketches are "somewhere in this house" but I'm not tempted to dig around and find them.  Done is done.  They both had apparently good lives, certainly lived on into ripe old ages and God bless them both.

A Presidential Quiz

Because I am not a history major, but instead should be considered History Lite, the human side of people interests me more than "What date/year did such-and-such happen?"  After all, people do have a human side - born, did this and that, died.  The statistical stuff.  So - here we go!

How many former presidents were Generals in the U.S. Army? (This is redundant as I don't think generals in the Red Army ever happened …)  Four.

Who was the only president to never marry?  (Leading to all kinds of juicy speculation about his private life … loved and spurned?  Gay?  Married woman?)  James Buchanan.   Conversely Grover Cleveland was the only president (so far) to get married in the White House.  I understand quite a few divorces have been considered there though …

How many States have produced presidents?  32.  Virginia gave eight of them a shot.  Ohio provided seven more.  Move to either if you're thinking about a run.

The Republicans have had the most presidents to be elected - 19of them to date.  Millard Fillmore, a Whig,  was the last president who was not  either a Democrat or a Republican - in 1850.

Getting more personal … who was our shortest president?  James Madison, a not-so-lofty 5 ft. 4 in.  The tallest?  A tie between Abraham Lincoln and Lyndon Johnson at 6 ft. 4 in.  (Which I personally don't believe because men lie about their height as women do their age.)

My own contribution:  something I think they all learn right after being sworn in if they  haven't already been secretly practicing in the shower or while shaving which is:  "Muh fellow Amurricans…"

President's Day

Tomorrow we'll chew on some of the interesting (and downright strange) events surrounding our current and past Presidents.

Here's something to mull over in the meantime.  Current President Donald Trump is labeled #45, but in reality, he is #44 (and Obama was #43.)  How come?  Grover Cleveland was a sworn President twice -  # 22 and when re-elected, became #24!  Double shot.

Short quiz tomorrow!

Update

The update refers back to the great Santa Barbara Search for Mickey D recently.  He wasn't in town, but I got my heart's (to say nothing of stomach - and you really can't say "nothing" about my stomach ... vision alone gives you an idea) - where was I?  Oh.

Yesterday I had a doctor's appointment at 10:30 a.m. which limped along until 12 noon when we got out of there.  I was starving (a half a cup of cereal and a couple of chopped strawberries doesn't go far,)  I said to Himself - "Let's go to MacDonald's - my treat."

Accordingly, off we went.  Only to find that Artesia, a main route, had been rendered useless by a sinkhole sometime in the night?  Time enough anyhow to get a max force of road workers with equipment out anyhow.  Great long detour around this mess.  Shades of SB flickered through my mind.

Finally I was looking tenderly at a Quarter Pounder with fries.  That didn't last long.  I tore into it like Grant took Richmond.

Moral?  If you wait long enough you can usually get what you want.  Never give up the dream!  Chew on!

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY

May your hearts always be entwined.

Reader's Digest:: I Do So You Don't Have To!

Nothing says, "I mean business" than using a shopping cart at the liquor store."  Next time you're in Bev Mo, look around you...

Punster Alert - Anagrams

Dormitory = Dirty Room

The Morse Code = Here come dots

Slot machines = cash lost in them

Snooze alarms = Alas!  No more z's

Eleven plus two = Twelve plus one

Huh!  The joke is on you kids who put shaving cream all over my car:  I was gonna shave it this afternoon anyhow.

Moses was technically the first person to download files to his tablet from the cloud.

And this is at least possibly helpful:  Stop cookies:  Go to networkadvertising.org  Click on "Consumer Opt-Out button and follow the prompts given.

A wife accidentally took her husband's prostate medicine.  So he called the pharmacist and asked if there was any cause for alarm?  And the pharmacist said, "Only if she starts hanging out at hardware stores and buys a lot of power tools."

And I ask the question:  Does that sum up men in a nutshell?

                 

Bar Hopping... Electronics...Santa Barbara!

We saw something new at our hotel, the Quality Inn (a pleasant little place.)  There is clearly a sensor between the main room and the dressing/bathroom area.  Walk through the doorway and the lights turn on in them.  Somewhat disconcerting in the middle of the night.

Bottoms Up!  We went to a nearby bar called the Uptown Lounge at 3126 State Street.  They serve a limited menu of hot dogs, hamburgers and made-there pizza.   Which is why we came here rather than the late-afternoon bar up the street - the Tiburon Tavern at 3116 State Street which is very much a home bar to locals.  We were hungry.  And the only food was items from a snack machine.
  

While we sat at the Uptown Lounge bar, waiting for our food we noticed something very new (to us anyhow.)  It was a row of about eight draft beer dispensers.  "Big deal" you say.  The glasses were filled from the bottom of the glass up!

How could this be?  There was no visible opening in the bottom of the glass to let the beer in!  The bartender explained to us that the glass had a round, flat magnet inside the bottom of it.  When the glass was set on a slightly-raised ring below it, the magnet inside it moved aside or lifted - no idea) and the beer came roaring in.  

She went on to explain that the Uptown had the only one in all of Santa Barbara.  The brand name is Bottoms Up beer dispenser, made in Indiana.  It can pour 44 pints a minute or, if really pushed, 56 pints a minute.  At those speeds would be tempted to not sit at the bar, but at some distance to avoid flying foam.  

My only quibbles with Santa Barbara - all of the street names are designated by Mexican names.  No numbered streets - 11th, 21st Street - to help you get oriented. 

I mentioned the No Parking on the main drag yesterday.  But I haven't forgotten it. 

A Funeral In Santa Barbara

Last Friday, we drove up to Santa Barbara to attend a family funeral.  We weren't even out of town when the adventures began.  To get on the 405, we took the Century Boulevard on-ramp to it.  And what should appear to my wandering eye but a homeless camp that stretched all the way underneath the freeway itself.  The camp was not visible as it was hidden behind drapes of a blue and white striped fabric stuck into the chain link fence separating camp from street.  It was cold and dark there,  But when the rains came later in the day, they at least had a shot at staying dry.

The media has provided us with frequent photos of these encampments, but this was my first personal view.  And this is America...

We lasted until Oxnard before thinking that a Quarter Pounder, small fries would be welcome.  There were no MacDonald's anywhere.  We were amazed.  On we drove, fruitlessly examining the  future scenery.

When we exited on Los Posas IN Santa Barbara we thought, "Well, surely they'll have a MacDonald's.  They didn't.  So we checked in to the hotel and asked.  "Oh, take State to the end and up the hill, you'll see the sign. You can't miss it"  Famous last phrase.  There it wasn't.

By now, ravenous, we turned around and trolled State Street where there is no street parking for a restaurant.  Plenty of those!  Little tables and chairs in front of each establishment.  When we spotted Carlitos with it's own parking lot out front, we whipped smartly in.

As you would guess by the name, it is a Mexican restaurant, all very white stucco and red tiled roof with an outdoor patio paved in red tile and an inside restaurant.  We opted for "inside" because the sun was moving away from a lovely front patio.

We opened the bidding with two Pacificos ($6 each) and an order of guacamole ($12) which came beautifully plated with a roasted red chili and chunked tomatoes with something new - a sort of wooden paddle to put a serving on your bread plate.

It's an extensive menu and we took our time going through it.  We settled on shrimp for me; chicken for Richie empanadas. ($14 each) It was our first ever empanada.  Wonderful crust - corn flour which gave a hint of texture and full flavor.
Carlito's, 1324 State Street, Santa Barbara.  carlitos.com 

I later asked a bartender about MacDonald's and he explained that Santa Barbara really frowns on chain restaurants.  They want to maintain a quaint, old Mexico with real restaurants and none of this trashy American stuff.  "SO not Santa Barbara, dahling."  To which I might reply, "Well, lah di dah."

More tomorrow.

Road Trip! Santa Barbara, CA!

My cousin's ex-husband has died after a long illness in the Santa Barbara, Summerland part of Southern California.  The memorial is tomorrow at 11 a.m. but we're going up today to see family and to visit the Santa Barbara Z00 which boasts 500 animals!  30 acres!

After riding in a car for 2 1/2 hours to travel 103 miles, I was relieved to learn that there is a Zoo Train which gives you an overview of everything on display. And usually a knowledgeable guide driving it.  We'll work out the kinks by the walk from the car to the train station.   The schedule for feeding a giraffe is quite complicated and we will probably have to miss it.

I found an appealing-sounding place for breakfast tomorrow, Cajun Kitchen, but now have to find an agreeable place for  tonight for dinner.  Suggestions welcomed, table of five.

The reception for the people honoring the deceased takes place at 1 p.m. following the full-tilt boogie Catholic funeral mass.

We come home directly after it.  Both times we will be taking the freeway, not the scenic route.  We want to get there not gape out the windows going "Oooh" and "Ahh"  And equally to come home.

Details to come.

AOL Has a Communicable Disease...

I cannot get to my email account.  Not just the cell phone which was first to blow out, but the PC hurried to get in line.  The laptop (ancient anyhow) then got it …

I am going to need a truck to get it all down to the fixer.

And we leave tomorrow morning to go to a memorial in Santa Barbara.  This is not starting out as a really good morning.  Onward anyhow!

Writers at Play

From the annual Christmas lunch

Writers at Work

The view  from the workshop 

Selling the fruits of our labors...

So Then ...

A brief overview of the Meet the Authors - pictures to follow when the four downstairs doors are changed out and Himself can download the pictures he shot.  He likes to busy himself "helping" the workers.

Traditionally (and it's a bad one) these events are poorly attended unless the author is John Grisham or a movie star and his/her autobiography.  We didn't have any of those so we had to make-do with what we had.

Our audience (again with the tradition) was about 14 people and most of them were the rest of us South Bay Writers Workshop  not in the show and spouses.  We did have a number of them.  There was one big surprise for me.  I'd had a routine doctor's appointment Friday and,  of course, mentioned it.  She said she would like to come!  And she did!  I was so flabbergasted that I forced one of my books on her and then she surprised me further by asking me to autograph it!

This is a doctor, people!  Doctors are gods!  They can fix whatever went wrong with you!  You think a poor old writer, slogging away at a computer can do that?  Nun-huh.

And all of this despite roaring in and out again rain cells.  The library's underground garage really saved our bacon.  Thank you taxpayers!

 

Too Tired to Type

I picked up a cough that would not quit throughout the night.  Midnight, 2, 3, 4 a.m.  Certainly breaks up any sleep pattern.

But there's a bright side to most everything and tomorrow (having finally read the Rx on the anti-coughing med) I should be able to download Richie's photos of the great "Meet the Authors" event.
Not to keep you in suspense - it went off very well.  And surprisingly enough, we all enjoyed ourselves.  We're writers, not actors!  But even with that handicap … we did good!

Hello, sofa - it's me.  

Not Exactly the Best Weather for an Event

Today from noon to 1 p.m. is the much-awaited "Meet the Authors" show featuring eight of the SouthBayWritersWorkshop.com members with published books.   The idea is that each writer will be asked to tell a little bit about their book and then the audience is invited to ask questions of us.

How do we get ideas?  Do we have regular "office hours" - a part of the day set aside for writing.  And whatever else they come up with to ask.  I've got money on "How do I get published?

As for the weather - it's cold, very windy with occasional bursts of intense rain.  As I type this, the avocado tree branches are lashing the window, leaves dripping with rain.   Not auspicious to say the least.

But:  parking at the Redondo Beach Main Library is underground!  No puddle jumping across a parking lot!  If you can get from your house to your car without getting drenched or beaten to death by a flapping umbrella,  you'll be safe and dry!  Hop on the elevator and up you'll go to us on the second floor.   Look forward to seeing you - wet or not!  Bring $$$!