Romance Around the Clock

Today at Romance Novel TV, I'll be participating in a "Romance Around the Clock" special promotion with 13 other Kensington Debut authors. The fun all starts at 9:00AM eastern, and my spot is at 1:30PM (right when I go get the kids from school). But I'll be back as soon as I can to chat with commenters, and to show off my new, gorgeous, can't-stop-looking-at-it cover for SCOUNDREL'S KISS.

Here's the complete schedule:

9:00 Kimberly Killion
9:45 Delilah Marvelle
10:30 Diana Cosby
11:15 Sarah Parr
12 Kit Donner
12:45 Kris Kennedy
1:30 Carrie Lofty
2:15 Anthea Laswon
3:00 Alix Rickloff
3:45 Elaine Levine
4:30 Allegra Gray
5:15 Christie Kelley
6:00 Vanessa Kelly
6:45 Pearl Wolf

Hope you all can stop by! I'm assuming there will be prizes to be had...!

Holy Crap! Cover Flats!

They just arrived in the mail about three minutes ago. I hadn't seen a jpeg of it yet, so they were a complete surprise. But how gorgeous is that??

Monday, Monday

I know that I "posted" more while I was out of the country than since I'm been home. I know! Magic! But I've been working on getting copyedits for SCOUNDREL'S KISS done by the Thursday due date.

Isn't perspective a bitch? I read SK back in October, just for kicks. I was down about some proposals and basically wanted to reassure myself that a) I could finish a story and b) I'm good at my job. Mission accomplished, because it was far better than I remembered it being. In fact a month later, when I received author copies of WaSw and reread that as well, I felt that SK thoroughly kicked ass by comparison.

However, since the release of WaSW and reading the reviews that went with it, I hear other people's voices in my head as I plow through the edits. Hmmm, I wonder if this opening will keep readers' attention. I wonder if they'll find my heroine too unlikable. Basically, I'm wondering if SK will placate those people left unsatisfied by WaSW.

As I tried to explain to Liz yesterday, I know--KNOW--in my logical mind that the words themselves haven't changed since I read them in October. I know that. It's my perspective and my memory of those other reviews that has changed my opinion. And because I know that, I'm forcing all the little niggling doubts into a box and locking the lid. The book is great. I adore these characters. They put me through hell to get them out of my head, but now they are precious to me. That's what I need to remember and hold onto.

So there you go. Proof that ten days in Italy didn't make me any less neurotic!

Now if only I had my cover. Damn you, tardy cover fairies!

Little Hello

I'm back. I'm also swamped. Keven and the girls went back to their lives yesterday, while I'm running to put the home back in order. We have no food in the house, but at least I've unpacked and the laundry is done. AND! I got the copy edits on SCOUNDREL'S KISS in the mail yesterday. They're due back to John on July 3. It's lucky timing, actually, because the girls will be in school through July 3. But then it's about eight long weeks till they go back.

Run! Run! Run!

I've caught up on SYTYCD, with a full recap coming up. I have only one comment to offer right now about last night: If nothing else exciting, hot, amazing, fun, or WOW happens for the rest of the season, we'll at least have Evan and Randi's slow back bend in their Mia Michaels' butt dance. Holy smokes. I love them. Absolutely love them. I have no idea how Evan will fair with taller partners when the couples are broken up, but he's definitely the guy I want to see each week.

Oh! And we've finally relented: We're getting cable! With DVR! On Saturday!

More soon, with pictures. Promise!

Flying Home

Today we fly home. We're on Air Canada from Rome to Montreal, and then from Montreal to Chicago. I had a lovely time on Air Canada when I first flew to England back in 1996, but then we stopped using them. Why?

In March of 2003, Juliette was five months old. It was our first trip to England with her. We boarded the plane at Heathrow to come home...and sat there for five hours. Luckily Juliette was so young. I know it sounds counter-intuitive to want an infant at that time, but the alternative could've been what we had on our next trip to England: Juliette as a feisty 26-month-old and Ilsa at 11 months. A toddler would've been waaaaaaaay worse in that situation. They're mobile, for one thing. And they require more food than breastmilk. Seeing as how the staff of Air Canada never gave us anything, not even water, that would've been disastrous.

But oh, were we pissed. From noon to 5pm, we sat in a plane. Not going anywhere. It was a travel evilness that I never want to repeat. Then there was the snooty-ass French guy at the rebooking counter who I know my dad would've hit, had he been there. We wound up going back to my in-laws' house for another night, then getting up early, early, ass-early to do it all again the next day. You're not supposed to see familiar faces when you're in line at a check-in desk, but there they all were--the people we'd endured five hours with on the previous day. All of them looked as un-enthused with life as we did.

The next week, Air Canada filed for bankruptcy. I'm hoping this time is better.

Critique Group Profile: Chicago North

I belong to three separate critique groups, all of which offer support and varying shades of purpose in my writing life. I wanted to take this time to profile the lovely ladies who keep me sane and make me a better storyteller. Both roles are equally important and appreciated!

This time around, I'm talking about Chicago North, my RWA homebase. I joined with Liz back in August of 2007. Sitting in the audience at Nationals in 2007, I watched absolute sweetheart Marilyn Brant win the Golden Heart for best romantic elements. The noise that her Chicago North cheering section made was unbelievable. I remember thinking, "I want to be with those girls!" So when I returned home, I looked up their site and roped Liz into coming with me.

(By the way, Marilyn went on to sell ACCORDING TO JANE as a trade paperback release with Kensington.)

At our first meeting, Liz and I knew that Chicago North was something special. They're a critique chapter, known throughout the RWA ranks as having the ability to dish is out, suck it up, and produce some amazing published authors. Seriously, I started making a list but then decided it would take too long: A-Ma and Mc-Z.

I joined on that first day, and I've only missed a handful of meetings in the last two years. They cheered like mad when I announced my sale, and they've ripped up works-in-progress on two different occasions, both times making them better in ways I couldn't have done on my own. Reading for the group is like taking a survey of the very best minds in romance and asking: Does this work?

And on a twice-monthly basis, I get to put on my thinking hat and offer my opinion regarding other peoples' stories, which invests me personally in their success and gets me thinking about what works and what doesn't. Active critiquing makes me a better writer. It's that simple.

Since joining, I've become involved in helping the chapter function, twice serving as the historical coordinator for our annual spring contest, Fire & Ice. In December, I was elected Manuscript Chair, which means I get to run the critique sessions that I so admire and appreciate. I'll also be head of the workshops committee for the 2010 Spring Fling conference. Very exciting!

So that's my chapter, and that's the third of my three very influential, very essential critique groups.

It's no wonder I'm writing an article on crit groups for the December issue of Romance Writers Report. Granted, the topic is "when to leave your critique group and how to do it," but I certainly have a solid perspective on what makes for a good group! And yay for more articles and free ad space!

Emo Poetry Slam: "Stranger Ride"

Our crowded knees pressed together on a bus to the downtown.
The steady, solid weight of his leg against mine.
He has to notice
That tension.

He would move if he wanted--
With just enough space to shift to the right--
To pull away
And replace the wall that is
Not touching.

I cannot turn to see his face.
I glimpse what I can, as my eyes strain
And my face remains forward.
To look would acknowledge him
And me
And break the spell.

He seems shy, and that makes it better.
He doesn't do this everyday.
His hair is mussed
And his smell is plain and clean.
His shoulders are hunched over a monograph.

But he has to notice and like it--
The furling, coiling heat of
Prolonged
Intentional
Physical contact
With an unknown human body.
My imagination flies around the confines of the bus
And rouses every nerve.

This will not happen again--
Not the steady, warm awareness of a stranger
Over several miles.

Our intimacy renders subways cold
Where stops and starts create
Erotic accidents that we ignore.
Shoulders press at high speed.
A hand brushes a thigh, struggling for balance--
Then apologies and embarrassment follow
Like guilty trespassers--
Like the fumbling plainness that scars a day.

But he and I will trespass without regret:
Our crowded knees pressed together on a bus to the downtown.

June 3, 2001

Critique Group Profile: Word Divas

I belong to three separate critique groups, all of which offer support and varying shades of purpose in my writing life. I wanted to take this time to profile the lovely ladies who keep me sane and make me a better storyteller. Both roles are equally important and appreciated!

This time around, I'm talking about my home base. My rock solid gals. My place of refuge. They are the Word Divas. Back in 2006 when I'd finished SERENADE and it was a steamy pile of crap with lots of potential, I was invited to join an internet critique group called the Online Romance Writers Circle. Throughout the next six months, they helped me refine who I wanted to be as a writer. WHAT A SCOUNDREL WANTS would not have been published without them.

Then, at Nationals in 2008, I met three of these dear ladies in person. We formed an offshoot group for the four of us, dubbed the Word Divas.

Kelly McCrady Schaub is very busy. Click "McCrady" for her author site, where she writes cute contemporaries and has ambitions for much bigger fantasy romances, and click "Schaub" for her Associated Contest writing. She's also an editor for The Wild Rose Press and made Predators & Editors' Top 20 list of best e-publishing editors for 2008. Kelly is enthusiastic, sensitive, self-deprecating, funny, and generous with her praise and encouragement. For example, while I insist that ORWC and the Divas saved me from obscurity, she insists that I brought new life and ambition to a stagnating group. It's that kind of perspective that helps keep ME in perspective!

Lorelie Long is an army veteran, an army wife, and the mother of three boys, which already makes her about 18 times harder than I am. She's sarcastic and tough, but she has an intensely personal side that comes out in the nuances of her writing, particularly with interpersonal relationships. The first person I bitch at when I'm pissed, she takes it all in, bitches along with me, or tells me to can it--depending on what's required for the situation. And she doesn't mind when I obsess, because she's generally right there obsessing along with me. Lorelie writes sexy, sexy historicals, such as TARNISHED ANGEL, which she serialized for Dionne Galace back in 2008.

Patti Ann Colt is our den mama, and that's not just because she's the oldest of us four. She's a mother by nature, the first one to sacrifice her time when one of us has an emergency. A former army wife and mother of three grown children, she helps raise her grandson, Zach, while attempting to break into the elusive Harlequin echelons. She has two books published with The Wild Rose Press, both of which are sexy hometown contemporaries: THE DADDY SPELL and THE SWEETHEART DANCE. But her imagination and ambitions extend well beyond what most people would assume; at present she has a futuristic military thriller cooking. Patti is the woman who makes sure my romances contain, well, romance--all the heart and emotion that I tend to lose in my quest for a good turn of phrase and a cohesive plot.

I'll be back soon, ladies. You're the absolute best!!

Scoundrel's Kiss Excerpt

Seeing as how the other Kensington author who has a release in January 2010, Beverly Kendall, now has her gorgeous cover, I'll probably have the cover for Scoundrel's Kiss when I return from Italy. I'm excited. This new style Kensington has adopted is just lovely.

In the meantime, here's an excerpt in which Ada, Meg's troubled sister, is being transported across the Spanish countryside. Her guardian is Gavriel, an aspirant monk who was once a mercenary warrior. Traveling with them are Pacheco, the headmaster of Gavriel's order, and another aspirant named Fernán--who is well cheeky. They've just survived a raid, and Gavriel and Ada have just survived their first serious encounter with each other.

***

Help. This was his idea of help?

She glared at the back of Gavriel's head. He rode high on his steed, keeping company with his morals, while she walked behind the horses, tethered like a criminal. The harder she fought against the ropes binding her wrists, the tighter the knots became. A second, shorter piece of rope laced the back of her gown shut. She would have sworn his hands shook as he had worked in quiet diligence to make her decent.

The caravan merchants had crawled from beneath their wagon hiding places to assess the damage. Two of the guards still lived, as did Pacheco and Fernán. The latter appeared an unbecoming shade of green. Streaks of vomit littered his white robes.

Down from his horse, Gavriel stalked from wagon to wagon and appraised the scene with a quick, intense gaze. She watched as he checked each corpse. He moved as if he had often patrolled the aftermath of a battle, wary of continued threats.

"This one yet lives," he said to a guard.

"For but a moment longer." The guard performed his duty with an unsteady hand.

"What happened to the others?" Gavriel asked, his face grim but composed. "There are only seven dead here."

The guard pointed to the south. "They fled."

Their conversation faded for Ada as she suffered another bout of trembling. Limbs and bone became a quivering mass. The ground did not feel as hard as it should when she melted into the thorny grass. Cold. Thirst. Violent dizziness. She shivered, the sky moving in sickening circles.

"What ails her?" asked the guard.

"She's unwell. Nothing more."

Pacheco hovered nearby. "What happened? Why is she bound?"

Gavriel hesitated. She watched with detached amusement as he grappled for a response. But the mocking laughter in her head found no voice.

"For her own good, master." Gavriel knelt beside her and pushed the hair from her face. With a quick move, he untied the knots at her wrists. "Get her a blanket, Fernán."

"I don't want your blanket," she said past chattering teeth.

He exhaled, looking more than a little lost. "Will you walk to Yepes?"

"I cannot."

"You will, if you do not relent. And you'll say 'please'."

"I'll not beg."

"Then you have a long road ahead of you." He accepted the blanket from Fernán and held it out to her. "What say you, inglesa?"

She slumped back and dug her fingers into the dirt and grass. "Fiend."

He stood, his face carved of stone. She closed her eyes and remembered lying on the pallet she had once shared with Meg, at home in England. Ada had dried wildflowers in colorful bunches and hung them from the ceiling beams. As night fell, she would watch the shadows they cast in the flickering firelight. When daylight returned, their muted, subtle colors offered places of brightness in the forest and in the life she had resented.

But what she would give to have that life returned to her. And rain. She missed the rain.

She had not been home for more than a year, having burned bridges with terrible and bitter efficiency. And now Jacob was gone too. She had no one and nothing, plagued by a bizarre novice and his strange determination to see her cured.

Part of her wanted to relent. He would help her through the worst of the withdrawal. Despite his temper, he was motivated by an unknown need to win their battle of wills, not by an impulse to do her harm.

But the part of her that wanted help was not as noisy or brutal as her craving. If Gavriel stood between her and the opium she needed, he was her enemy. He was her captor. The monastery at Uclés could be like heaven on earth and she would still regard it as a prison.

"Gavriel, help her." Pacheco was not so tall, and despite his age and position of authority, he seemed to be asking the novice to comply.

Tell him. Make him help me.

Gavriel seemed to have heard her silent demand. He forced her uncooperative limbs to work, to stand. Strong arms offered support, banding her lower back and pulling her close. Heat from his body soothed her chills. She ached to push closer, hold tighter--any relief from the gathering storm inside her.

"Come now." The deep, quiet timbre of his voice, so near to kindness, threatened to start her crying. "Stand for me. Good. Now keep your feet." He forced a scant distance between their bodies and met her unfocused gaze. "You'll need to be strong. Yepes is quite a distance to walk."

She stumbled. "You're a monster!"

"I'm helping you, whether you see that or not."

"How? By making a sick woman walk?"

"By curing the sickness you've brought on yourself." His wide and muscular chest blocked the sun, blocked thought. "I told you, in this I will not be deterred."

Reflexively, she touched the petite sheath at her hip. She needed to feel the reassurance of its cold metal. Safety. But it was empty.

"Where's my dagger?"

"I have it."

Panic etched her skin with goose bumps. "You cannot keep it!"

"I won't let you cut me again." He lifted his forearm and pinned her with an excruciating glare.

Ada blanched at the damage she had done. A clean slice scored half the length of his forearm, crusted with drying blood. She touched it with wobbling fingers, gently. He hissed but did not flinch. Tendons flexed on the inside of his wrist.

He deserved what she had done, or so she tried to believe. But all hard flesh and power--doing him harm seemed an affront to nature.

"I've yet to hear an apology."

Ada swallowed. "You never will."

"We must continue," said Pacheco. "Nightfall approaches."

Gavriel nodded. "Master, has anyone retrieved the cart?"

"It was burned and the donkey taken." He handed Gavriel a canvas sack and Ada's satchel. "But we've protected most of our belongings."

Fernán, pale except for the dark circles below his eyes, raised his brows. "And where will she ride? Perhaps I could make room on my saddle."

"She'll walk. Seems the lady prefers it that way." Gavriel stalked to his horse and climbed up. He stared at her, unrelenting and cold. "And if you refuse, I'll not hesitate to bind your wrists again."

Pacheco shook his head. "Gavriel, you--"

"Master, please. If this is my obligation, allow me to proceed as I see fit--as long as I act within the bounds of the Order. Trust that I can do this."

He waited. They waited. Even the merchants and the remaining guards watched the contest.

"Do I have your permission to proceed, master?"

"Yes, Gavriel. Do as you see fit."

He turned to Ada, his face without emotion. "Will you come to Yepes or stay here with the caravan?"

The beast had the nerve to abduct her under the guise of a clergyman's goodwill, wrenching her from of the pleasures she had enjoyed. So be it. He would offer diversion until she was free to return to Toledo. Then she would wring Jacob's idealistic neck.

"Yepes it is," she said, smiling sweetly. The flicker of panic on his face assuaged her ragged pride. "Lead the way, novice."

Yes, she would enjoy pulling him down to the ground. He was not who he longed to be, and she would prove it. She would make Gavriel de Marqueda break each of his precious vows.

Movies I Still Want to See in 2009

The movies I still want to see in 2009 are...








You'll notice I put The Time Traveler's Wife on there despite my Bana issues. I loved the book that much!! And I'll see Gerry Butler's new flick, Gamer, if it doesn't get terrible reviews. Same with Surrogates. And then here are the additional movies I might end up seeing because of the kids...




So what do you still want to see this year?

Emo Poetry Slam: "Fall"

He, an open enigma of fine demeanor,
filled tires times with luminescence.
He righted a crooked moon,
and threw stars skyward in my name.

Make me a woman, I pleaded.
Take me as your own and smile at my side.
He did smile, as innocence amuses the jaded,
and he kissed with great influence.

Together we were brief and inconsequential.
Apart, my life was ruled by his absence for a time.
Resolve crumbled as stale bread for birds,
and tears flowed as wedding day champagne.

Today I remain as an incomplete puzzle
that misses a long-absent corner piece.
Still, most of the picture can yet be seen,
and now I too kiss with great influence.

October 23, 1995

Critique Group Profile: Broken Writers

I belong to three separate critique groups, all of which offer support and varying shades of purpose in my writing life. I wanted to take this time to profile the lovely ladies who keep me sane and make me a better storyteller. Both roles are equally important and appreciated!

Today I'm talking about the Broken Writers. All of us are relatively local, and we meet monthly in Chicago for in-person gab sessions, goal-setting, and general therapy. We'll called Broken Writers because, well, part of our gab therapy is bitching about what ails us physically. We're not old...we're just faulty.

Deb Gross doesn't have a homepage, but you can read about her on Brenda Novak's list of folks who contributed time to her recent auction. A former corporate warrior, Deb is snarky, quick, and incredibly driven. I rely on her when I need a tiger who's got my back, or when I need someone to find me tasty adult beverages. She's been on a hot streak lately with several contest placements for PRIOR SINS, her dark, nasty-ass thriller.

Joelle Charbonneau-Blanco doesn't have a homepage yet either, the silly girl. She's a mother, model, actress, singer, and writer of fun, funky mysteries. Just having landed her dream agent, she's set to take the world of mystery publishing head-on. She and Deb are very tight, having bonded over the excruciating trial of putting on Chicago North's Spring Fling conference in 2008. She's the most consistently optimistic person I know, and no one can stay in a bad mood around her. Well, at least I can't!

Nancy J. Parra is a jack-of-all-romances, having published nine titles with Avalon. She keeps her options and her creative mind open, while staying very market savvy. I lose track of how many submissions she has out there at any given time. Nancy is wry and quiet, especially compared to the rest of us talkative bitches, but her comments are always spot-on, regarding both the publishing business and particular manuscripts.

Liz Powell, now going by Mari, is my very dear friend. Back before we knew each other, she was one of the judges who helped WHAT A SCOUNDREL WANTS final in the Wisconsin RWA's Fab Five. Later, when I joined WisRWA's loop and mentioned that I'd moved to Kenosha, she contacted me and asked if I wanted to meet up. We hit it off straight away and have been close ever since. She was one of the first people I called when I sold. Oh, and did I mention that she was RITA nominated?? She is, quite simply, an incredible writer.

Love you gals! See you in July!

Up (2009)

Ed Asner (Mr. Fredricksen), Christopher Plummer (Charles Muntz), Jordan Nagai (Russell), Bob Peterson (Dug)

Directed by Pete Docter (Monsters, Inc.) and Bob Peterson

IMDB: By tying thousands of balloon to his home, 78-year-old Carl Fredricksen sets out to fulfill his lifelong dream to see the wilds of South America. Right after lifting off, however, he learns he isn't alone on his journey, since Russell, a wilderness explorer 70 years his junior, has inadvertently become a stowaway on the trip.

We saw this on May 30th, but I've been saving the review for when we're in Italy. Seeing Up marked our fourth big-screen movie release in as many weeks, following X-Men Origins: Wolverine (which I whinged about but didn't officially review), Star Trek, and Terminator: Salvation.

So, yeah. Yay for babysitters and other local couples who like to go to the movies even more than we do! It means we're staying current this year, having already matched 2008's sum total of five theater films.

Anyway...back to Up.

I'll admit that the concept was far from intriguing. I had no real interest in seeing a dude floating around in a house held aloft by balloons. But I decided to go along and make it a family affair--a rather no-fuss one. Plus, I had the goal of getting Ilsa through a theater movie without her bursting into tears. Happy Feet--tears. Madagascar 2--tears. WALL-E--tears.

Up? No tears! This movie wasn't entirely scare-your-pants-off, plus Ilsa has gained a little maturity. Seeing as how she's taken on Jurassic Park, this was no sweat.

At least, it was no sweat for the girls. Me? I was a mess. Parts of it are almost unbearably sad. I mean damn. I don't want to give away anything, but the little human tragedies of loss, grieving, dreams deferred, and disappointed hopes are tackled with a forthright power that left me profoundly moved.

Now you may be asking, Is this a cartoon? Completely. It's a beautifully colorful film that features improbable adventure scenes and awesome, hilarious talking dogs. But the overarching metaphor couldn't be ignored, no matter how many times I laughed and snickered--which was often.

Keven and I put this straight up there with what we consider to be the two Pixar classics against which all others should be judged: Finding Nemo and Toy Story. It's absolutely magical, complete with heart and humor and so much angst that there are parts I won't dwell on for too long. They're just too real. All of this from a movie about a house that floats away on hundreds of helium balloons.

The Big Day!

Today is the day that my husband's younger brother, Steve, and his lovely betrothed, Silvia, are getting married. For their wedding, they have asked me to do a reading. I'm honored that they've chosen to include me in their special day. (Keven's just an usher, but a swanky one with his sweet Morrissey tie!)

Here's what I'll be reading today, from Solomon's "Canticle of Canticles":

The voice of my beloved,
behold he cometh
leaping upon the mountains,
skipping over the hills.

My beloved is like a roe, or a young hart.
Behold he standeth behind our wall,
looking through the windows,
looking through the lattices.

Behold my beloved speaketh to me:
"Arise, make haste, my love, my dove,
my beautiful one, and come.

My dove in the clefts of the rock,
in the hollow places of the wall,
shew me thy face,
let they voice sound in my ears:
for they voice is sweet,
and they face comely."

My beloved to me, and I to him.

"Put me as a seal upon thy heart,
as a seal upon they arm,
for love is strong as death,
jealousy as hard as hell,
the lamps thereof are fire and flames.

Many waters cannot quench charity,
neither can the floods drown it."

This is the Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.

Happy, happy day! Congratulations to the new Mr. and Mrs. Lofty!

Here's Where We Are

Curious about where we're staying in Italy? Want some stock photos to tide you over until our return? We're here at Borgo Lanciano tonight and tomorrow night, which is a resort hotel and spa where the entire wedding party is staying. Then on Sunday, we transfer to Casa Rastia, this little bed and breakfast, where the entire place will be filled up with we Anglo pig dogs. And then next Friday, we're taking the train to Rome where we'll spend two nights at this bed and breakfast, called Queen.

Books for the Trip

After about as much deliberation as I required to pack, I finally selected the following books for my trip to Italy. Some are fairly new, while others have been lingering in my TBR pile for ages! I hope to have devoured them all by the time I return, because I'll be back to work on "Flawless" as soon as we're home. I never like to read historicals while I'm writing them, lest my brain go all explode-y.

Off We Go!

I know I've been remiss at posting. I know. But we're leaving for Italy today! Do you know how much crap I've been doing since Friday?? Tons!

And not all of it travel related.

Yes, I have numbers back from the sale of WHAT A SCOUNDREL WANTS, and they're not particularly good. Neither are my prospects for FLAWLESS, the South African-set book I was working on. Basically, it's time to regroup and decide what the next goal for my career should be. "Sell tons and prance around" is off the table. I'm going to use this trip to Italy to let my brain marinate in wine and alfredo sauce, then get back to work when I come back.

Keven and I aren't taking our laptops or typing gear or internet-y things of any kind, so it will be a genuine vacation. No work! No kids! What the hell? So bizarre. On Monday I dropped Juliette and Ilsa off at my parents' new farm, which is awesome for two condo-raised girls and perfect for their summer break, but we're still not into a "the kids really aren't here" groove yet. Yesterday, when I spent most of the day cleaning and getting things organized, I kept checking the clock to see when I'd have to go get them from school. Nope.

Considering that our honeymoon at the ages of 21 and 23 was a two-day trip to Six Flags Great America (nearly 12 years ago), and our last vacation without the kids was to Cancun for five days (about 4 1/2 years ago), I'm going to exhale a big sigh of "OMG awesome" relief. We need this. And with everything pretty much set to go--except for the packing, which is always the easiest part--we're both pretty stoked.

I've set up a few random posts to fire off without me, but nothing too major. It'll probably be more regular than I've been while here at home!

SYTYCD Vegas Week #2

I am greatly annoyed producers right now. Who are half these people? How can it be in the best interest of the show for half of the contestants to come into the main competition with a significant fan base, while other qualified dancers get barely a mention, even when they get into the Top 20? I already miss the Australian version, which produced a much more competent narrative.

Janette, salsa from Miami: enjoyable
Kayla, blonde with the crying grandad: She hasn't connected with me.
Paris, former Miss Washington: Please don't get paired with a guy I like!
Jeanine...big blank.
Karla...I got nothing.
Caitlin, angsty blonde former gymnast: Happy!
Melissa...nope.
Ashley, who's apparently auditioned four times now: That's all I know.
Randi, who like unitards: Still more zip.
Asuka, sex on a stick ballroom: yay!

Talk about a lack of diversity. I'd judge them on their dancing, but that isn't possible with the way the show's been presented! Although I knew just as little about the guys who made it through, they at least show a little variety.

Vitolio, from Haiti: Why did we wait till today to learn about him?
Kuponoh: They made him cut his hair! NO! Loved the list-making, though.
Ade...who?
Jonathan...that could be anybody!
Brandon: He's this year's ready-made controversy, like Danny or Will. Annoying.
Tony, hiphop guy who got so many chances: Coz they need regular white dudes?
Maxim, the Russian ballroom guy: OK. He's probably why Ricky didn't make it in.
Jason, who is not the umbrella dancer (named Kellan): No idea.
Phillip, who is funny and awesome: Yay!
Evan, who is also funny and awesome: Yay!!

So I won't get to know a thing about any of their pairings or performances through the first and second weeks. Argh!! I'll spend the Tuesday we get home just watching all of them back-to-back. What are your thoughts?

SYTYCD Vegas Week #1

I mentioned Alex Wong in a previous recap because it's about time we had a fantastic male Asian dancer on the show, especially one who's classically trained. But I didn't know he was absolutely fantastic! That solo of his was terribly impressive. That first cut after the solos had to have been hard, to be sent home after performing what got you there in the first place.

Every time I seen Tabitha and Napoleon, I smile. Every time I see Jean-Marc and France, I wonder how she's put up with him for so many years. And then, because I watched SYTYCD Canada, I wonder when he'll start to cry--which is what he did all the time as a judge. And speaking of crying, Cat worked absolute magic with getting that guy Tony to smile before his second run at Mia's routine.

Gabi, the arthritic circus performer, which is probably not how she would like to be described, is very typical of Vegas week. She was an absolute standout among the additions, and yet the pressure and demands of learning other people's chorey is too much. But I could watch her perform own work all day.

What happened to poor Natalie? When she danced with Brandon, she was absolutely stellar. And then boom! Flat! What the hell what wrong? Was her confidence so low without Brandon? It certainly affected him after she left.

All of this goes back to my formative theory as to why the US shows far less of Vegas week then either the Canadian or Australian versions. I was seriously underwhelmed by the producers' very cursory recap of the group routines, both in their personal footage overnight and in showing the routines themselves. Perhaps American viewers don't want to get attached to people who won't make it into the Top 20? Dancers are such sensitive people--it's hard to get through five minutes without tears from either the dancers or the judges--so maybe seeing them hurt and disappointed is not good for ratings.

If that's the case, why haven't we been seeing some of the new front-runners? They mentioned some guy named Jason as having potential for the Top 20. Was he the one who auditioned with the umbrella? If they want me to like him, they have to show me who he is! After all the camera time Tony received, he'd better make it in. The judges are trying awfully hard to keep them around, which means they are seeing some star quality in him that we haven't been shown.

Of my original picks from the girls' auditions, only Asuka and Caitlin remain--and the editing hasn't revealed who else we have to root for. I find this annoying, just as I find it annoying that the beauty pageant girl with the huge chin is still in. She reminds me of a girl I knew in junior high. Jessica. But what was her last name?

Of the boys, it looks like Peter was cut, as was Sammy. Haven't seen hide nor hair of Igor and Kuponoh, so I guess that leaves Ricky for our ballroom guy, Phillip as our quirky guy, and Brandon as our "guy who needs to learn how good he is and get with the *&%!^% program."

And ah, the Kasprzak Brothers. They're like magical dancing leprechaun comedians. The Nerdography group probably benefited from Ryan's chorey, and I very much liked his serious face after performing Mia's routine--but then, I always prefer angst to whoopee cushions. Unfortunately, I can't imagine them both making it into the Top 20. They're so similar in style and built. But wouldn't the human interest component of the show just make them superstars? Folks would eat them up, in that Benji, Heidi and Lacey sort of way.

Snort line from Mia: "I'm a cutter." TMI! And Tyce is going to annoy the shit out of me all season, isn't he?

So what remains for tonight's episode? Ninety minutes of drawn-out suspense and more crying? Dude, it's a dance show!

Ow, My Head

I just spent the last three hours making sure that Unusual Historicals will be able to run without me for the two weeks I'm in Italy. This whole "not gonna have internet" thing is starting to freak me out! But I'll have books. Glorious books. What am I taking? I have no idea!! It's intimidating and awesome at the same time, the ability to just randomly take fun reads with me. Wine, food, beautiful scenery, cozy medieval towns, a big to-do wedding, books, sleep, Keven--and no kids! For two weeks!

OK, now I'm getting psyched.

But never fear, dear readers. Aside from a complete lack of current events, my blog will feature random bits of stuff for the two weeks I'm gone. As to what that entails...no clue! Stay tuned!

The Cat Did It?

Ilsa seemed surprised and awed when I cleverly deduced that Walter, our cat, did not, in fact, "accidentally rip" the library book. I'm wicked smart like that.