I randomly recalled a childhood memory the other day. A seemingly ordinary event, I suppose.

It was my mother making everyone cups of hot chocolate while a thunder storm raged outside.

Nothing unusual about that, right?

You know what I don't understand though?

Why did my mother feel it necessary to wake me up, who was perfectly happy to be sleeping through the storm until that point, just so I could sit with everyone else at the kitchen table and not drink the beverage? I've NEVER liked hot chocolate.

And it hit me the other day when I had this random recollection - why did I never think to ASK her why the hell she felt it necessary to wake me out of a dead sleep?

Hmm . . . think I owe my mom a phone call.

              

Did you know June 3rd was National Donut Day? NO? People, people - try to keep current. If we don't remember  sacred national events like National Donut Day, what's next? Oops, forgot Nov 4th - National Chicken Lady Day? Hello! Standards, kids, we must maintain standards.

So, I remind the Capt. of this fact the day before and he, of course, is anxious to show his support. He's very patriotic. He did serve as a Marine, you know. And he is a Coast Guard Captain, after all.

Now, I'm not a big sweets eater. Never have been a chocoholic. I don't pour maple syrup on my pancakes (just butter - lots and lots of butter). I don't spread jam on my peanut butter sandwich or toast (again , butter should be enough for you). I eat ice cream (vanilla, of course) maybe once a year. I will eat plain NY cheesecake or creme brulee if really well done now and then but usually pass it up as most often I am disappointed (spoiled by my friend Beverly who is a killer cook and makes creme brulee to DIE for).

But, it's National Donut Day.

National Donut Day.

I have a patriotic responsibility, folks.

So, the Capt. asks me - plain old fashioned or a couple maple bars? 

Oooo - tough choice. I do admit my other sweet guilty pleasure is a maple bar. I like to have most of one (feeding a chunk to each of four dogs) followed by a plain old fashioned (feeding a chunk to each of four dogs). And then it's nice to have the last maple bar that night as a dessert (feeding a chunk to each of four dogs).

So, I say, "since I had all old fashioned last time, lets go back to a maple bar, please!"

It's now the dawn of National Donut Day!! Hurrah! There is cheering in the streets! Parades are surely planned!

While my delicate self slumbers, the Capt. showers and makes his was to the store.

He selects his donut delights carefully. But, wait! Did the woman before his just purchase the last two maple bars??? How can he possible return home to his eagerly awaiting love with no maple bars? That's all his loving partner asked of him! How can he fail her?

With a heavy heart, he takes his purchases toward the front of the store.

Aha- what is that before him?

Why, it's a display rack. It's celebrating National Donut Day.  And  . . .

OMG! Can it really be?

There is ONE maple bar left on the rack. Just one!
 
Relieved, the Capt. grabs it and adds it to his shopping cart.

Victorious, he brings his trophies home.

Gently (okay, actually he calls the dogs in to jump on me and bruise various tender places) he awakens me to the glorious dawning of National Donut Day. I swear I heard a chorus (or was that puppy growls?) as I opened my eyes.

"I could only trap and kill you one maple bar, my angel."


 




I forgave him.

(Note: those are real, normal sized donuts behind the mammoth maple bar which was, yes was, the size of a sheet cake.)

Here's proof I really met the amazing Ann Rule!

(I'm the one with the long hair - and why do I look older than her when I'm at least 20 years younger?)



And yes, that's the wine garden directly behind us. I was going to crop this but then wanted to also prove how close they stick authors to the booze. Guess where I was shortly soon after this picture was taken? Good guess!

After about a decade, I decided to once again check out the Northwest Womens' Show in Seattle and talked some friends into joining me for the day. It wasn't hard to convince them - especially when I mentioned the fabulous Jimmy's On 1st restaurant literally across the street from QWest Field and we'd be able to take advantage of their great Happy Hour.

My main motivation to going was one of my fave True Crime authors, Ann Rule , was going to be there. I discovered Ann when I first became enthralled with the study of the serial killer Ted Bundy. He was local as is Ann, who actually was a friend and co-worker of his for years. Her attention to detail and the extensive research she does is amazing enough but when you add in her ability to really get you inside the emotional state of these people, well, she's my hero.

As usual, I was late getting going but thankfully my friends all have incidents that made them even later so for once I was sort of on time. Go me!

I get there, wander around a bit (the celebrity impersonators from Julia's were pretty good - especially the MJ) and then hunted out the area called the "Author's Corner". Good thing I did 'cause the minute I walked up to the speaker area, some guy announces that if you get in line, you'll get a copy of Ann's latest book FOR FREE and she'll then sign it!!! OMG!!!

I immediately got in line.

So did the two young "ladies" behind me who kept trying to get in front of me until they figured out it wasn't happening.

And then my nightmare began.

First, it should be no surprise the wine bar was located in the space immediately adjacent to the Author Corner. You're not surprised, right? Hello! Heard of Hemingway?

Okay, so I get in line at 12:45. Ann Rule (and her daughter Leslie Rule, also an author) are due to arrive at 1:00 and will be there until 3:00.

Within seconds, the twats behind me start yammering to each other.

"I'm so drunk!"

"Me too!"

"What are we in line for?"

"Um, I think it's some free books. I love free crap."

"Me too!"

"OMG, I'm so drunk."

At just a few minutes after 1:00, Ann and Leslie arrive. Yay!! They get settled in. They begin to address the crowd seated before them (we are standing in a line off to the side, behind the backdrop of their table and back about a hundred people long at this point).

"I've so gotta pee."

"Me too!"

"I'm still really drunk."

"Me too."

"You know, I'm so glad Bridgette didn't come with us. I mean, she's so all about the drama and I told Jim Bob I really just wanted to spend some time with you for a change!"

"Oh, that's so sweet! Look at all this bronzer crap I bought. I'll be bronze for months."

"Bridgette tweets all the time about stupid stuff. She's such a gossip. Wish her boyfriend had a brother cause I would so do him. He's hot."

Now, Ann Rule is talking and sharing some wonderful insights into writing and researching her crime books  - I assume. I can't hear a word since the drunk idiot girls have diarrhea of the mouth. It's now 1:30 so I've been standing in line in low heeled boots for 45 minutes in one place. My feet hurt.

"You know, I hate it when guys wanna do it when you're on the rag. That's so gross!"

"I know! Ew. Some girls like that and Jim Bob wants to sometimes but I'm all, like, dude - no way. Yuck."

The woman in front of me, a lovely person with killer red pumps who was a vendor promoting  the Newport, Oregon Seafood Festival happened to generously mention that Ann just said that the hardest book for her to write was one of both our faves, "Small Sacrifices". And then the blathering behind me continued.

"I'm still really drunk - and now I really gotta pee!"

" I know. Did you get that free stuff from that bread place?"

"Yeah. Love free stuff."

"Yeah, free crap is great. You know what else is great? Older guys for your first time! They totally know what they're doing."

I'm straining forward to aim my ear toward the closest speaker emitting  Ann' s voice and willing myself to hear her words of wisdom. My feet are aching and my head is ready to explode at this point. I cannot make out a single word.

Nothing is going my way.

I momentarily think to tell the twats to take turns using the restroom and thereby keeping their place in line but then I'm all like - what the hell are you thinking?!?!? Do you really want to encourage them to stay?!?!?!?

I so do not and keep my big mouth shut for a change.

Finally, about 2:30, they start handing out the books and the first people get to have them signed by Ann (we also got one from her daughter, Leslie Rule, about ghosts in mirrors which sounds pretty interesting). Gradually, the line begins to move.

We inch up, closer and closer.

"It hurts I gotta pee so bad!"

"Me too!"

We inch a little closer.

Suddenly, drunk girls start whispering, loudly mind you - they are still drunk.

"You know, if we count to three and walk away, maybe they won't notice."

"Okay. I'll do it if you do it."

"One, two, three." This in unison followed by giggling and the twats wobble off to presumably find more free stuff, after finding the bathroom, of course.

Why they needed to count is beyond me. Why they waited two hours to only give up when we were so close, I have no clue.

I don't think they did either. Thankfully, one of them stated earlier she doesn't plan to procreate.


PS: I did get both Ann and Leslie's lovely books signed to me personally so it was worth the suffering!

OMG - after a whopping 4 hours sleep, off went the auto-wake up call. I snarled and moaned but then a thought flashed into my mind - AGENT APPOINTMENTS! Zing! A huge boost of adrenaline surged through me and got my fat butt moving. While I still looked like the living dead, at least I was an awake corpse.


When I finally left my room an hour later (yes, in another pair of shoes), I was still only slightly caffeinated and had my "war paint" on. Wasn't much I could do about the bloodshot, puffy eyes. Even though I was almost an hour early, I rushed down to the waiting area outside the rooms they were holding the agent/editor pitches. (The spaces for all the workshops, meals, registration desk, hospitality desk, meeting rooms, etc. were spread over three levels of the hotel.)

So, I ran into some of my peeps right away who were waiting for pitches shortly.  All the agent/editor appts this year were groups sessions with about six to eight per group.


Gaah! I would have to have missed that! Plus, I don't have a book out. Great timing. Crap.

That aside, I did have a wonderful time connecting with friends. And I did get to meet Barbara, who is sweeter than cheesecake.

Back to the pitching . . .

I got lucky and a friend gave me her appt. with my previous agent whom I hadn't seen during my 5 year hiatus from writing. It went well, thanks to a gnat.

Let me explain since I can hear you scratching your heads in confusion. I hurried to her table in the room and grabbed the seat next to her. I decided I'd go last in pitching and let the others begin. About half way through the wonderful Terrel Hoffman's great pitch, a gnat suddenly buzzed around between me and the agent. My natural instinct was to brush it away.

Agent: "Did you just swat at me?"
Me: "No! It was a gnat."
Agent: "Did the rest of you see that? She swatted at me!"
Me, completely red faced: "No. Honestly there was a gnat, a bug."
Agent, laughing hysterically: "I've never been swatted at during a pitch before! This has to be the funniest pitch group I've ever had!"
Terrel: "She's The Swatter!"
Agent: "Lori, you have to mention that in your submission!"
Me: "Um, okay."

Of course, I did. I'm not stupid, just embarrassed.

So, that agent and another one requested submissions. Go me!

Then it was time for the Award Luncheon, the wonderful speaker Brenda Novack , and I got to be a Raffle Vanna and help hand out baskets of donated bliss from dozens of authors and groups. Fun, fun, fun!

After chatting with more people, a brief stop into the crowded Book Fair, and a drink in the bar with yet more friends, I decided it was time to go change for dinner. I was hosting a group in the hotel restaurant as a volunteer Dinner Diva.

We had a great group, great food and lots of laughs! Afterward, we moved our group to the lounge where others joined us.

Some of us made our way to the karaoke party for a while, cheering on those braver than us.

Finally, our little group decided to once again go up to my room for yet more drinks and to unwind a bit from the busy (and early!) day. Some sensibly decided to call it a night a while later, since Sunday would be the final day and it was once again crammed full of great events. Others of us (you're not shocked that I was one, right?) just needed a couple more hours of chatter before we could unwind enough to think of sleep, no matter how badly needed.

I think the shoe count reached an even half dozen so far.

After my hostess and I stayed up very late solving world problems over glasses of chilled wine and cheese and crackers, the poor dear had to get up early to attend a bonus workshop she'd registered for. I'd known better. I slept in, thank you.

when I'd found out the wonderful Barbara Vey had agreed to be the keynote speaker, I'd played stalker-fan and had promised her an ice cold diet Coke upon her arrival so, I had to run around Bellevue to try to find a regular grocery store, which involved much cursing. (I really don't like driving in Bellevue, just so you know.) I purchased a Styrofoam cooler, a couple bags of ice, a couple of six-packs of soda and lots and lots of bottles of wine. This was a writer's conference,after all.

Then I had to shift rooms and unload the rest of my stuff. I filled one cart to capacity and trundled to the new digs. Upon entering the room, I found a man standing on my balcony! Don't get excited on any account - he was one of the workers cleaning the exterior of the building. Moments later he jumped into a cherry picker bucket thingy and went to scare the crap out of some other unsuspecting woman. Now, if he'd been a stud-muffin . . .

After unloading, setting up my own cooler (I'd checked, hotel had no fridge) with soda, wine and snacks, I loaded up Barbara's cooler with the other six-pack and took it to the front desk to have them deliver it to her room. My first stalking task was a success!

My friends finished with the workshop and registration officially opened.

After officially registering, it was time for me to play volunteer once again (with hat #2, the white & cream one - forgot to mention the hats before) and be one of the Hospitality Hostess' at the First Timers Reception. What a blast I had! I talked to so many great people. I even got to spend a little time with one of the Australian writers who came. A really fun and interesting woman. Wish I'd more time with her, like with so many other people. The Hosp Chair and her committee did a fab job having wine and chocolates aplenty!

The hour went by fast and then it was time to catch my breath and change before the Friday night Welcome dinner. I changed (yes, my shoes too - pair three so far for the weekend), and then went off to find my peeps.

We took up the better part of a table and were pleasantly surprised that a few unknown brave souls filled the rest of the seats (one is new friend Jude Bown). Since it took a while to get food service going, I decided we needed drinks but was informed I'd have to go upstairs to the bar to get them. Ha! They obviously didn't know who they were dealing with. That wasn't going to stop me. Off I went to the bar. I must have given off the air of not being one to trifle with. I had the manager himself help me. Did I want both bottles of wine opened? Of course. Did I want them on ice? Of course. How many glasses would I need? Five. Would I like him to follow me to my table? Of course! (Hello - I was so not going to try navigating the stairs in my four-inch heels while carry breakable things!)

It was a grand entrance I made back into the ballroom, my tall man-servant following me, holding the tray with gleaming bucket and glasses held high. We arrive at the table - and my peeps aren't there! Damn their bladders. At least I got to surprise them when they returned, even if they missed being impressed with my show.

While the food wasn't worth mentioning, Alyssa Day 's welcome speech was fun with her borrowing the credo of "Never give up, never surrender!" from the "Galaxy Quest" movie to inspire us. After that, Cherry Adair presented awards to all those who won her "Finish the DAMN Book" Challenge, like my pals Stephanie Meehan, Chassily Wakefield , and Josie Malone which involved much loud cheering from our group as well as all the attendees. And then we applauded like mad for  Diana Ballew who was a finalist in the Emerald City Opener Contest. And then more cheering for my buddies who made PRO this year - Stephanie, Diana & Joan . Next was a recognition of the First Sale Awards and that included our pal Josie Malone (a/k/a Shannon Kennedy ). Finally, there was the Editor/Agent Panel next followed by a Pitchfest!. Whew!!

Our group opted out of the larger pitch session and headed up to my room for more wine (of course) and candy (I don't know why) so we could focus on helping each other with our pitches. This is also when we gave our friend, the newly published Josie Malone , a custom frame to use at her first book signing that next evening.

Yes, it was another very, very late evening but it was a wonderfully productive one. But getting up for that first pitch to an agent would come all too soon when you stumble off to bed at 4:30 am.

So, it's been like five years since I attended the Emerald City Writers' Conference in Bellevue, Washington (sponsored by the Greater Seattle RWA chapter). Thankfully, a shift of weekends worked in my favor this time so I could attend. And, even more thankfully, one of my writer pals offered to let me come an extra evening as her roomy couldn't make it for their Thursday night reservation. Thank you, Miz D !

Now, this was only the second ECWC that I had attended where I wasn't "working it". The first 5-6 years, I was "on" constantly but now, just as a volunteer, I had freedom. But I still packed like I needed to prepare for every calamity. I even brought a spare lint brush. Seriously.

I loaded up the car (you'd think I was going to be gone at least a week , the number of bags I had - I took a bag of JUST SHOES! like a dozen pair! FOR A WEEKEND! I'm insane) and drove to the eastside. Since my freebie night was one night only, I left most of my crap in the car. I'd be spending Friday and Saturday nights in my own room so could pile said crap in that room.

Yay! Finally settled in (temporarily). I had a bunch of pals to hang with and planned to meet many more. We got together, those who'd arrived a day early, and had a late lunch. It was much fun and made new friends, too!

Most of our group had volunteered to help adding/stuffing promotional items in the free gift bags each attendee of the conference will receive so after we finished eating, we went in search of the stuffing room. The room quickly filled up with helpers - and boxes and boxes of stuff! After planning delay, we got our assembly line going. It was a lot of fun and we all got to see the gorgeous covers and freebies first! Everyone got three books and there were pens, bookmarks, teaser booklets, postcards, candy, a button, chapstick, post-its and on. It's a fun way to get promotional ideas.

It took about three hours to get all 250+ bags stuffed with the huge pile of goodies! After that, we welcomed the pizzas the Conference Committee bought.

We then converged on the bar, meeting up with new and old friends. Several hours later, it was time to stumble off to our rooms.

It was a great way to start the long weekend!!

Saturday, October 9th was a special day for me. It was a day I'd looked forward to and hadn't missed for five years previously.

But this year, I got a fright worse than anything I'd ever had.

I went to Port Angeles Crab Fest and COULDN'T FINISH MY CRAB!

I can't explain why I changed my strategy this year. My only guess is hunger was driving me. And year-long fantasies about bacon-wrapped scallops in peta bread with pesto sauce and shredded cabbage, a/k/a the Scallorito, had been haunting me. Gaaahhhh . . . (And I'm sorry I ate mine before taking a picture of the stunning work of art. My bad. But I was f*#@ing hungry!)

See, normally, on one of our only-for-the-day visits to the annual fete (we prefer the weekend long event so that we have several days to sample and waddle around) I would have had a plain cake doughnut before heading out. and consuming much diet soda caffeine on the nearly two hour trip over. Then, upon arrival, I would have eased into a cup of chowder or perhaps some steamed clam & mussels. A few hours later, after much walking around the pier and possibly part of the town, I'd be ready to chow down on a nice fresh hot dungeness crab. All of this is accompanied by glasses of fabulous Olympic Peninsula wineries beverages. (The Capt. often imbibes in the local beers.) And while The Capt. dove into some killer slices of pie later, I'd probably be going back for more steamers or oysters - and of course more wine.

But this year - well, this year didn't work at so well. I should clarify - it worked out well on the financial side but was a disappointment on the consumption side.

I got full too early.

Because it was a rainy day and 11:30 am when we got into town, the crowds under the tent where most of the food booths were was jam packed. The Capt. and I were both ravenous so thought we'd see if our new love of the previous year had their bbq stall going out on the Pier. The Alaskan scallop people were there! We jumped into line and immediately each ordered a Scallorito.

While I did eat all four jumbo Alaska Scallops wrapped in bacon, I only scarfed about two-thirds of the pita bread and condiments. Then we toddled about, looking at wares and visiting a few of the downtown shops. I so love the bookstore, The Port Book & News.

An hour or two later, we ambled back to the food tent, Capt. hungry again and me thinking so, I was so seduced by the tantalizing sights and smells of the seafood. The Capt. convinced me to have a dungeness dinner (whole crab, coleslaw, and a half an ear of corn) and he ordered the same. Halfway through mine, I realized I'd started too heavy and it would be tough to finish. When The Capt. suddenly tossed half his crab on my plate, I knew I was in serious trouble.

I've never gone to Crab Fest before and not eaten at least one whole crab. This year - only about two-thirds, and that was after not eating any coleslaw and only half of the half ear of corn! And might I also add, that was the ONLY corn I've had this year that was fresh and sweet and perfect!

After consuming most of a bottle of wine while trying to gain victory over the crab, and hour later I had to call it quits. With a heavy heart (and even more heavy gut), I allowed the Capt. to toss away the remains.

I was not hungry again for the next 22 hours.

The writing world is filled with sadomasochistic freaks - and I am one of them.

We writers spend days, months, sometimes years writing our book. We research and pour over dictionaries and thesauruses, painstaking selecting each word. We tear parts of it up and build it over again. We sweat and bleed and cry over it until we think it's close to perfect. We birth tales of humor and love and pain and discovery that are about 100,000 words long.

And some asswipe in New York many moons ago decided you had to cut it down to three pages for the synopsis.

WHAT?!?!?!

But it gets even better.

I recently registered for a fabulous conference and part of the perk to registry early was to get the chance to send in a pitch to an editor who was attending but  not taking normal pitch appointments. Bonus! She's from a very good publishing house and is well respected. You got to actually submit two pitches and she would select the top ten of all of them to have a personal one-on-one meet with her at the conference.

Yes, of course there's a catch. Your three page synopsis, approximately 700 words? TOO LONG! Hone it to a maximum of 100 WORDS!

ARGH!!!!! I think they're just trying to make my head explode.

(Don't ask me how - I actually did it.)

I apologize to all of Facebook. Really.

Okay, maybe just those who know me/friend me/whatever me on there. Sorry, y'all. (And side note: why do I often type "y'all"? I'm not from the South. I've only been to New Orleans and Orlando once each for short vacations. Hmm - odd.)

Jumping back in - I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I haven't accepted your spare bushels of corn or adopted your extra goat or agreed to buy your surplus of methane 'cause you've got really gassy pigs (I've got really gassy dogs when I feed them pigs and that's more than enough for me). I'm sorry I haven't returned your bedazzled hearts, shamrock charms, or kitten love points back. My bad that I haven't clicked that I love unicorn rainbows too. Apologies I don't want your angels' love protection or glitter halos or what the hell else I get sent.

I'm sorry but I really don't have the time to deal with this. And: News break - I'm not a touchy-feely kinda person. I don't get into online games. I've managed to find enough crap to distract myself, thank you very much.  I can waste more than enough time playing Solitaire or howling with laughter over old posts by the bloggess or allie brosh or channel surfing on hundreds of cable stations - not all speaking the same language I do.  Hours have been spent doing research on Wikipedia or Google or university websites. (Okay, fine - I also might happen to spend a little time on TMZ or something like that. I do like to read, too, you know  oh, and I write!)

Then there are all the groups I'm a member of. And, unless I'm really that clever(hint: I'm not), anyone who knows me knows that if I have even an infinitesimal  knowledge of a subject a questions was just asked on or know someone who does, I have to answer. I have to.

And then there's the huge vacuum of time that seems to surround me whenever I'm trying to actually answer e-mails. I compose, then re-write, then often have to research, then spell-check, then re-write again and spell-check again - after which I will either tell myself I'm a blow-hard and don't know crap so will delete or will send and then worry for the next couple hours everyone on the loop will read it and see it as proof I'm a know-it-all idiot.

So, I ask you - do I really need to deal with fantasy farms and mythical angels? Don't you think I'm "challenged" enough already?!?

I do.

But thanks for thinking me friendly/smart/interesting enough to enjoy your invites. Hugs!