It’s summer here.  That means it’s hot.  This morning, on my way to work, it’s 88 degrees.  It’s getting quite muggy, too, because of the monsoon rains that are brewing.  Every afternoon, we all look up, and watch the clouds gather, coming in from the south.  They get darker and more ominous, hanging heavily over the city.  And we wait.  We wait for that smell that means the rain is mere seconds from falling and drenching your hot skin and cooling the parched desert.  Unfortunately, there is much teasing from the weather gods before rain actually comes.  The clouds build up for days, every afternoon filling us with false hope.  There are wild, unsubstantiated rumors flying around.  “We got a few drops yesterday,” someone will say and you feel unwarranted jealously welling up in your chest.  A few drops may be worse than nothing.  Just the taste of a dream is most likely more soul crushing than someone else obtaining what you long for.

Sometimes the clouds are just cruel.  Off in the distance, long vertical streaks line the sky – a tell tale sign that it’s raining somewhere.  The desire to jump in your car and drive as fast as the wind to find that water, to feel it on your face – it’s unbearable and irrational.

But still, the heat pushes down on us and we have to welcome it, suffer it, because without the heat the clouds won’t come. 

What brings on this love letter to rain?  World Cup Soccer.

Huh?

All over the world the critics on the TV and the blogosphere are railing against the vuvuzuelas – the obnoxious horns the South Africans blow endlessly through out the games.  Life long fans of soccer are being turning away from the games because they can’t tolerate the horns.

I’ve been keeping an eye on the games and I couldn’t understand what about the vuvuzuelas was so annoying.  In fact, the first game I turned on, I didn’t even hear them. 

Actually, truth be told, they unsettle me, but not the way they do the rest of the planet.  It finally occurred to me why this is.

They sound just like cicadas.  The desert is rife with the humming bugs during the summer.  You can’t walk outside without hearing them.  They, along with the crack of lightning and roll of thunder, are the song of summer.

The vuvuzuelas sound like a summer-rain lullaby to me.

It’s finally happened.  I’ve gone crazy from the heat.

All day long I’ve been a mess – dreading the appointment I had for an interview on TELEVISION! Gasp.  Wheeze.

The day didn’t start well.  I didn’t wake up until 7:40.  Sassy had to be at camp by 8:00 for a field trip.  They were roller skating and I’d have never heard the end of it if she’d missed it. 

I came flying out of bed, “Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“I tried to wake you up, Mommy,” Sassy told me, “But you wouldn’t get up!”

I know she did.  I dimly remember her trying to get me up but I just couldn’t seem to rise.  Shining was out of the question.  And poor Bandit, he was having none of this running around nonsense.  The boy is not a morning person.  It’s how I know he’s mine.

So the one day I have to dress nice, do my hair, wear makeup.  Unbelievable.  I called Ava – she’s my boss (hahaahahahaha – that’s so amusing!) and told her I’d be late.

I threw on jeans and a tshirt and got the kids off, came home and groomed myself.  I was only an hour late.  It all worked out since I didn’t take lunch. 

So all day, every time I thought about the interview, I wanted to be sick.  I’d given myself a headache over it.  Ava was beyond excited.  She kept giggling from her office at me.  Kelli kept telling me I was crazy.  My mother told me not to worry as I would be more attractive than Eleanor Roosevelt.

uuuh....yeah....thanks Mom

Deep beleagured sigh.

So my entourage met for dinner after work and then headed to the studio to be there by 7pm.  Ava, Kelli and her daughter, our friend Leigh, and I trooped down there like I was going to the gallows.  Actually, Ava kept giving me little hints like:  “Don’t giggle.  Don’t gesture too much.  Don’t look at me during cause I’ll be laughing.”  Isn’t she helpful.

Anyway, we got down there and there was a sign on the door: Closed until further notice.

They’d run out of funding!  Praise to Allah, Glory to God, Thank the Saints, who ever is up there, out there, where ever that saved me from that horrible experience.

The sign asked for donations so they can reopen.  I’m sure that Cable Access is a very worthy cause and that there are many good things that go on there.  I know our friend that does Meeting the Writers LIVE really enjoys what he does.  But I’m begging you not to send in money. 

I can’t go through this again.

It is with dawning horror and a great sense of nausea that I tell you I will be on television tomorrow – Wednesday, July 7.  The good news is that it’s only cable access.  If it was Oprah you can be absolutely sure I’d be emaciated from all the vomiting.  I’m sure you find it hard to believe, even those of you that know me, but I’m really quite shy.  I disguise it by being a stand up comedienne.  But you should know that the entire time you’re laughing at my antics and hysterical stories, I’m screaming in my head to shut up.  I would be thrilled to disappear into the wall paper, but the Leo in me won’t allow it. 

Anyway, Channel 73 or 98 depending on your cable provider.  The show is called Meeting the Writers LIVE and the host is from my local Romance Writers of America chapter. 

He promised to play nice and I promised to arrive sober.

Tuesday July 6th is the release date for book 2 in Jennifer Ashley’s MacKenzie series.  You may recall how much I LOVED book one, The Madness of Lord Ian MacKenzie.  This one tells the tale of his younger brother, Mac, the artist.

I wrote about it on Examiner.com.  Go check it out.

As you may also recall, Jennifer Ashley appeared at the 2010 Tucson Festival of Books and she will be there again in 2011.

Pick up her book.  I promise you’ll love it.  The early reviews have been outstanding.

Several of my favorite blogs had the same idea today, but this is such excellent writing, I couldn’t resist posting it also.  I thought about it all day, but ultimately decided I’m going to run the risk of seeming a copycat.

This is written in Thomas Jefferson’s handwriting and the corrections are by Benjamin Franklin.  Doesn’t that make you a little tingley?  Giddy?  It does me.

It was Mark Twain that said, “The difference between the right word and the almost-right word is the difference between the lightning and the lightning-bug” and, wow, did Mr. Jefferson use excellent, powerful words.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights…..”

Powerful words indeed.

Ta-Da! Here’s another version of my favorite commercial.

Unfortunately, my man, and the rest of the family too for that matter, smell like this:

In fact, this is what we have planned for the entire weekend.  It is supposed to be hotter than the sun for the 4th of July.  By all means, let’s set some stuff on fire.

I was delighted to see that the powers that be are updating Wonder Woman.  Some of you may know of my fascination with superheroes.  I have a pet project about a super hero that I think I’m going to pick up again now that OTHER one  is off to the agent.

But I digress.  I don’t know about you but I think it’s about time they updated Wonder Woman.  If you don’t recall, this is what she’s looked like since 1941.

I think, that while Linda Carter is hot, and she served her character well during her tenure, she is a little embarrassing.  How could she possibly fight crime without her lady bits flying out of that bustier?

I also suspect that poor Linda had some difficulty breathing.  And another fine point has been brought up.  Where did she keep her stuff like the keys for her invisible jet?

So this is the new Wonder Woman.  Her new costume has a studded denim jacket, black leggings and spurs on her boots, and gloves.  Behold.

DC Comics is quoted as saying about her new incarnation, “We will be making her stronger, favoring her smarts and her resolve and her resourcefulness, and making the remains of the world she once knew special by incorporating them into a more vital, unpredictable world. We take her very seriously.”

And how did Linda Carter respond?  “I think Wonder Woman has a mind of her own. And I think she was just kind of ready for something new. She’s got an attitude and if this is the new thing that she wants to wear, well, by God, she’s going to wear it. And I like that. And I hope that in the story someone mentions, where’s the old one? And she says, get over it!”

Well spoken, Ms. Carter.  I wholeheartedly agree.  For crying out loud, Wonder Woman was an Amazon not a strumpet. 

Ha! Strumpet!  When’s the last time you saw that word in print?

The winners have been announced for one of my favorite contests, The Bulwer-Lytton Writing Contest.  San Jose State University has been sponsoring the contest since 1982.  The point of  the contest is to write the worst possible 1st sentence for a novel as is inspired by the contest’s namesake, Edward George Earl Bulwer-Lytton, who’s 1830 novel, Paul Clifford, famously begins:

This year’s winner:

For the first month of Ricardo and Felicity’s affair, they greeted one another at every stolen rendezvous with a kiss–a lengthy, ravenous kiss, Ricardo lapping and sucking at Felicity’s mouth as if she were a giant cage-mounted water bottle and he were the world’s thirstiest gerbil – Molly Ringle

Geniusly bad.  I love it. 

Some other notable entries:

Winner of the Detective Category:

She walked into my office wearing a body that would make a man write bad checks, but in this paperless age you would first have to obtain her ABA Routing Transit Number and Account Number and then disable your own Overdraft Protection in order to do so.  – Steve Lynch

Winner Historical Fiction:

The band of pre-humans departed the cave in search of solace from the omnipresent dangers found there knowing that it meant survival of their kind, though they probably didn’t understand it intellectually since their brains were so small and undeveloped but fundamentally they understood that they didn’t like big animals that ate them.  – Mike Mayfield

Winner Romance:

“Trent, I love you,” Fiona murmured, and her nostrils flared at the faint trace of her lover’s masculine scent, sending her heart racing and her mind dreaming of the life they would live together, alternating sumptuous world cruises with long, romantic interludes in the mansion on his private island, alone together except for the maids, the cook, the butler, and Dirk and Rafael, the hard-bodied pool boys.  – Paul Chafe

Winner Western:

He walked into the bar and bristled when all eyes fell upon him — perhaps because his build was so short and so wide, or maybe it was the odor that lingered about him from so many days and nights spent in the wilds, but it may just have been because no one had ever seen a porcupine in a bar before. – Linda Boatright

Winner Purple Prose:

The dark, drafty old house was lopsided and decrepit, leaning in on itself, the way an aging possum carrying a very heavy, overcooked drumstick in his mouth might list to one side if he were also favoring a torn Achilles tendon, assuming possums have them. – Scott Davis Jones

Miscellaneous

As the under-appreciated autumn evening faded into yet another soft black velvet fall night, all creatures large and small had settled in except for one, Loupy, the Schipperke, whose job was to keep Anatoly, the night watchman, informed of all things pertaining to the property with her signature uninterrupted warning barks which at this very moment would not subside until her master explained, “We don’t know anyone named Timmy and we don’t have a well.” – Karen Arutunoff

I sent my complete manuscript for Seeing Love Clearly off to the agent who requested it.  Cross your crossables!

This has been an absolutely crazy month since she requested the “full”.   She asked on May 31st and I sent it today – just shy of a month.  If you will recall, I easily had to rewrite the last 1/2 of the book since the Sisters and I tore it apart.  I naively thought most of the original would easily be cut and pasted into the new incarnation.  Silly, silly writer.  There was no such luck.  But now it’s much better than it was: funnier, better conflict, etc.

I was so excited about sending Thomas and Francesca off today.  It was with real glee that I shoved them in the bulk mail drop at the Post Office.  I have really grown to hate those people.

Remind me the next time I write a full length novel to pick easier names to type.  Names like Sam and Lou.  Francesca’s brother’s name is Christian and I can’t tell you how many times I wrote Christina.  I had to to a Find/Replace of the complete manuscript to make sure I got all of the typos.

Even though I talk a tough game, Ava and Kelli will tell you I’ve been a basket case.  The pressure of writing FAST and then sending off my baby in a box to far away places to people who may or may not love them as much as I do…it’s nerve wracking.  It’s like I sent Thomas and Francesca off to sleep away camp.  I hope the other campers aren’t mean to them.  I hope they make friends. 

And then the minute you think of teenagers in sleep away camp the next horrifying thought leads to right to slasher movies.  Jason Voorhees, you stay away from my babies! 

And now that I’ve got that terrifying metaphor in my head, I’m going to roll up in the fetal position under my desk and pray the agent doesn’t take a

Is this too dramatic? Sometimes my drama-meter is off.

 butcher knife to Francesca and Thomas.

If you two hear a strange noise outside, I strictly forbid you to split up and look for the source of the noise.  And, Francesca, no taking your shirt off.  It’s always the sluts that go first.