Birthdays

by Joan

I’m not here. No, really, this post is a hologram sent to the Romance Bandits by way of Doolin, Co. Clare, Ireland. Even as you read this I’ve just finished a full Irish breakfast and am tooling along the Burren looking for dolmens, castles and the stray black haired Irish lad..and trying not to run off the road. You see today is my birthday. Yup, it's April 13th and NO I was not born on a Friday. I don't mind birthdays as a general rule though with being out of the country this year I avoid my brother's incessant teasing. I like birthday cake and cards and presents.

I like that my birthday falls in the spring. The whole renewal thing has an increased appeal this year. You see it's not just any birthday, it’s a Landmark birthday. (Which one, you ask? If you guessed 21 you are my new best friend).

Frankly I can ONLY refer to it as a Landmark birthday because to say the actual number out loud makes my eyes roll back into my head. Suffice to say that I decided that I would spend this momentous occasion in the most beautiful place God ever created—Ireland. Visiting the land of my heritage will ease the sting, soften the blow, help with the mind altering “I’m HOW *&$%# old?” (faint).

What? Huh? Oh, sorry. (Whew...no broken hip).

You see here’s a secret. I do not feel like I should be at this landmark yet. 50 is the new 30, right? I took a Real Age test online and it says I’m physiologically 6 years younger. I buy lotions and creams and serums to stay ahead of any outward indications of age progression. I regret with every free radical in my body that I was late coming into the wonders of olive oil. I thank my lucky stars I never smoked and with my fair Irish skin was never a sun worshipper. I exercise and eat better. I’m not particularly vain, but I want to look like I feel. I want to be all that I can be. (I do not, however feel the urge to join the Army.)

And what can I be? Well, a strong, confident, passionate woman who still believes dreams come true. One who believes she will be published, who knows she will find Prince Charming. An independent lady who uses her wisdom, her wit and her Aleve to feed the vibrancy that is her life.

And yeah….I LOVE the idea of being a Cougar! I am woman, hear me roar!!!!!

So Happy Birthday to me!

Meow.

What special thing did you do to celebrate your last “landmark” birthday? Note: We’ll only go back to age 13 :-)

PS to my brother: If there are a certain number of BLACK CROWS in my yard when I get home....grrrrr.

It's All A Game

by Joan Kayse

I have a critique group. Four ladies who I have bonded with not only as writers but as friends. We each write in different sub-genres—historical, romantic suspense, category and YA. Yet we all get each others writing and are there to help shape the stories, offer plot solutions, force the historical writer to get rid of the goat….

Ahem.

Anyway, we met this past weekend and spent a good thirty minutes reading the pages each had brought. But halfway through I looked across the table to find the category and YA girls playing football. No, not the kind with an actual ball but the kind played for decades by bored students in study hall. They didn’t have folded paper triangles but tightly wadded foil from every critique groups essential tool…Hershey Dark Chocolate kisses.

They became completely engrossed in the game and to be frank they amazed me with their skill. The category gal was especially adept at flicking the ball through an obstacle course of purple foil to score. The more they played, the more they laughed and the more I decided I needed to bring more pages to keep them occupied.

But their playing of this adolescent game got us to talking about other games we played as kids. Now you have to understand that we artfully dodged SOME discussion lest it date us as to our age.

While jacks and marbles were mentioned, I remembered more clearly those summer time plastic wonders. You know from Whammo or Hasbro. A favorite was a plastic heel you strapped onto your foot. Attached was a long string with a ball and you swung that around and jumped over the string as you would a jumping rope. It took skill, coordination and stamina. Sigh. Those were the days.

Remember Super balls? Man, you could not only put your eye out with those but if hit JUST RIGHT bean that annoying Mike L. in his backyard three houses down :-)


And Jarts. My cousin Bobby had those and we spent hours playing it. I can just hear child safety experts of today saying "It's all well and good until somebody pierces an aorta.". Spoil sports.

Hula Hoops, skates, Frisbees, rocks (Ever play rock school?), chalk for hopscotch, bubbles the "old fashioned way"...blowing.

What were some of your favorite toys as a kid? Tell us about them and especially any unusual stories. The person with the most memorable one will win a $10 Barnes and Noble gift card.

Turning on a Dime

by Joan Kayse

I had a crappy day at work.I know, I know. Most of you envision the life of a nurse as noble and self sacrificing. Well, I don't know about noble but I've done a fair bit of self-sacrificing for my patients over the years. Always willingly. Well, except for the time a lady insisted she needed me to squeeze between the wall and the chair she was in to scratch her....back and in raising up bonked my head on the thermostat and burst into tears. She spared me a "Are you ok?" and then pointed out the spot she needed scratched .But the reality and my years in the trenches (and I REALLY hope it's not the "years" part of it) have changed my perspective and my profession quite a bit. Nursing is getting harder. And today was no exception. I thought I'd scream if I listened to one more nurse whine, one more doctor complain, one more pass of the (*&^^ floor waxing machine!

Today was no exception. You know it's bad when everybody you pass in the hall says "Boy, YOU look tired." I had loads to do, complaints to listen to, a very ill man to transfer to the ICU and never got dinner.

Then I checked my voicemail. I had a message from the contest coordinator for The Suzannah, an outstanding writing contest sponsored by the NOLA chapter of RWA. My ms. THE PATRICIAN'S FORTUNE had won the competition. Just like that the fatigue, the stress everything just flew out the window! My Roman hero Damon had done it.

It's validation to have my Romans achieve such recognition. You see when I began writing in 2001....well, the very thought of a "different" time period was unimaginable to well...everyone I met. Your Romans do not have a place in publishing you foolish girl. No one would want to read them. Stay safe, write only to the market.

I listened and I learned and I shook my head politely. But I had three Roman heroes (eek..don't call Bran a Roman...he doesn't like it) who were demanding their stories be told. And so I could do nothing else. And now they are shining in wonderful contests like The Suzannah.

It's true Roman wasn't built in a day. Just one story at a time.

Can you think of a day when you thought nothing was going right and then something special happened to turn it around? If you had another chance what "different" job would you pick?