We had erroneously reported that Ava was rejoining Amylynn back at Bank of No Forks after the layoffs, but it never came to fruition. It was a dark, dark day. Amylynn cried. Ava cried. There was crying. However, when better things happen you have to run with them.

So Amylynn toiled — alone — in a new position at Bank of No Forks for three torturous months. Ava also toiled alone, but somewhere else. We texted A LOT and met for lunch as often as possible. It was never enough. Remember when you were in fourth grade and, when the fifth grade class assignments came out, you and your best friend were split up? Remember how devastated you were? It was awful, and this was back in the days when every single kid didn’t have a cell phone to attach to each other like umbilical cords.

Well, things went back to normal in sixth grade. The planets realigned and everything was bliss again. Except that the teacher kept putting Robbie at our table and he was icky.

Well, the Sister’s are back in sixth grade again tomorrow. As of Monday, Amylynn is at the same company, on the same team, as Ava. No one at this company knows what they have wrought, and we’re not going to tell them. We try to keep things on the down low until we’re firmly ensconced and nearly indispensable. We’ll do what we always do in situations like this. We let the relationship unfold naturally. Pretty soon people will figure out that we’re Sisters, best friends, writing companions, and members of a very small gang.

Bwahahahahaahaha.

Today is Amylynn’s last day at Bank of No Forks. There is jubilation. Everyone go eat an éclair in honor of this milestone. She’ll be joining Ava at a different company. This is the source of much rejoicing. Ava is nearly beside herself with glee that Amylynn will be there to lessen her work load. Their new boss is super excited because that means Ava can stop yelling at him, what with her being all distracted with a bright shiny Amylynn and all. The internet as a whole should be excited as the blogs are much better when Amylynn and Ava are together all the time. As of now, we’re only together for lunch two or three times a week. Not nearly as much great stuff happens over three hours a week. So, World, be forewarned. The shenanigans will now recommence! This was a great week for goofy things in the news. Prepare yourself. Here we go.

1. Who exactly was the problem? A woman was removed from a Southwest Airlines flight to New Hampshire for “causing a disturbance” after “poking” a snoring passenger with a pen. Alright, let’s think about this for a minute. We’re betting if this person was snoring anything like Amylynn’s husband snores, he was the one “causing a disturbance.” So imagine you’re flying in a cramped tube with a kid staring at you from over the seat in front of you for three hours. You’ve been jostled, glared at, and insulted ever since you arrived at the airport. The beverage cart has rammed you in the elbow twice. You spent a fortune on a seat that’s too small and doesn’t have enough room for your knees. Now, to top off all these indignities, the jackass next to you is snoring. Loudly. You cleared your throat with as much intent as possible. You nudged him with your elbow. You whacked him with your knee. Now you’ve had it, and you jab the crap out of him with your pen. The Sisters can see how this went sideways real quick.

2. There’s a punchline here somewhere. A woman in Pennsylvania (we find the best automobile stories from PA!) blamed her car wreck  on her pet parrot. She said the bird distracted her just before she crashed into the guard rail by trying to break into her coffee cup. As I read this story, I fully expected there to be no actual “bird”, but lo and behold, there was. The police found bird seed in the adjacent cup holder and feathers in the seat. Apparently, the bird loves coffee. So what the heck? Give him a nice latte. The woman broke her arm and had lacerations on her face from the airbag. Don’t worry, the bird was “safely removed from the vehicle.” Do you suppose they stopped off at the Starbucks on the way to the ER?

3. Yes, please! Get a load of this. Can you believe how gorgeous this stone is? This, our friends, is a “perfect” 100-carat-diamond. It’s an internally flawless, D colored stone. It just sold for $22 million dollars at Sotheby’s. Ava wants to know if it looks fake in real life. It looks fake in this picture, so probably. Amylynn once put on a $250k diamond at Tiffany in The Bellagio in Las Vegas and that one looked fake. You know what, though? We’re totally cool with owning a ring that looks fake. We’ll know it’s not. When we run away with Tom Hardy and Jared Leto, we’re going to get this ring and trade off wearing it. We’re Sisters. We can share.

4. Don is a lousy name for a dog. Don the Sheepdog is causing a ruckus in Scotland after he drove his master’s car down a hill and onto a highway. Apparently, his owner, a farmer, left Don sitting in his SUV when he got out to inspect some lambs. He swears on all that’s holy that he left the parking brake on. Whatever, Farmer Tom. It seems that Don the Sheepdog has recently developed thumbs and was able to steer the vehicle through a fence, down a steep hill and across the M74 motorway, missing other vehicles and hitting a security barrier. Can you

Remember, safety first!

imagine when you go to yell at the crazy driver who almost killed you and there’s a goofy dog in the seat? There’s a joke here about Ava and her driving skills, but we’re too classy to make it. (Ava here – working on making an offer to purchase “Don the Driving Dog”. Don’s a fine name for a dog if he drives you around.)

4. Maybe he thinks he’s a cat? A sea-lion pup has been safely returned to the beach after sheriff deputies found him trudging along the highway more than a quarter-mile onshore. (How is it possible that the Sisters never find a sea-lion pup or a red panda anywhere? How is that possible??) He wasn’t afraid of people when the officers approached him, probably because he was recently rehabilitated at the Marine Mammal Center in the San Francisco Bay area. He kept rubbing their legs like a pet dog and, we assume, grinning. He’s seems like a happy little dude. He joyfully jumped in the back of the patrol car. And, we assume, stuck his head out the window and barked with glee when they drove him home to the ocean. No news on whether they named him, but we’re also stating unequivocally that Don is also a lousy name for a sea-lion.

Remember, I had to show up for jury duty today or risk a bench warrant for my arrest. I mean, jeeez! So, fine, I showed up. I had to be there at 7:30 in the morning. That meant not only was I sleepy but I’d had no coffee and no breakfast. This was not an auspicious start.

Don’t you know that I was immediately selected for a panel. We had to trudge three blocks like little ducks to another court and then, because the universe hates me, I was selected to move to the jury box.

I was juror number ten. They were only choosing six, so I figured I had a pretty good chance that I would be eliminated.

We began the interview process wherein the judge — who was named Paul Simon (totally not kidding) — and all the attorneys asked us a million questions. I told them all kinds of stuff about me I hoped would persuade them to hate me. I told them I work in finance, that I’m a comedy blogger, that I’m a published author. I told them I read all the newspapers (The Times, Wall Street Journal, local papers, the ENTIRE internet). As a regular human I would have found that incredibly annoying. I told them I walked in on a home burglary. They informed us the defendant was charged with DUI. I informed the court I have a relative with a DUI. I told them I was only available for one day (more on that reason next week!).

I was pretty sure I was golden.

The universe had other ideas. I was selected. Seriously. Of all the people they had to choose from, ALL of the attorneys asked for me. WTF? Ava said that it was my own damn fault for acting smart.

I was given a notepad and a pen. I took extensive notes. People looked at me weird while I scribbled furiously, but honestly, you put a writer in a jury box, notes are going to happen. I wrote down e v e r y t h i n g.

We were instructed a gazillion times that the state had to provide PROOF BEYOND A REASONABLE DOUBT to find the defendant guilty.

This is what I know beyond a reasonable doubt –

• I’m entirely too fidgety for a jury. Everyone else on the jury was able to sit still like an adult. Not me. Fidget fidget fidget.
• The judge didn’t wear a robe. Isn’t that the best part of the judge job? The wardrobe? I’d have insisted on the robe.
• The defense attorney thought he was a comedienne. I swear to god during his opening statements he invoked the movie My Cousin Vinny using the line, “The two yutes”. I assure you he is not a comedienne. He was not funny. He irritated the hell out of me. He got the blank death stare when he directed a funny to the comedy blogger.
• I told the court I was freaked out about missing Friday at work if the trial ran over. It’s true, I was, but what I was really freaked out about was missing my hair appointment. Those things are hard to get.
• I discovered somewhere about the 37 minute mark of the trial that I had an enormous zit brewing on my chin. I then became obsessed with that.
• The defendant had a very foreign name – one of those with way too many consonants and not enough vowels from the general area of Eastern Europe. I became very interested in learning the correct pronunciation, but I never learned it.
• The judge instructed us that the jury members could write notes to the judge to ask questions. I really, really, REALLY wanted to do that, but I couldn’t for the life of me come up with a question that wouldn’t get me yelled at.
• I found it absolutely fascinating that the oath given to the witnesses did not include swearing to God.
• Whenever the lawyers had a side bar with the judge, he turned on a white noise machine. It sounded like static and it totally cracked me up every time.
• There was extensive time taken over the prospect of field sobriety tests. I have very deep concerns that I could not pass a FST even on my soberest day. Walking heel to toe and a one-legged stand? Nope. I’ll bet Ava couldn’t do it either.
• When the criminologist took the stand they actually made her do math during her testimony. She had to pull out a note-book and a calculator and figure out blood alcohol levels in front of an audience. My stomach got woozy on her behalf.
• Every time one of the lawyers finished with statements or a witness ended their testimony I had to sit on my hands to keep from applauding. It just felt like the polite thing to do.
• During the testimony, we learned that the judge was deaf in his left ear. Really. I guess there’s nothing wrong with that, but it seemed interesting, and I pondered it for quite a while when I should have been listening about chemical tests that no one was disputing the validity of.

When we were sent to lunch I made a point of jaywalking. I was hoping for an arrest because it would get me out of the rest of the trial. I don’t think they can yell at you for that, can they? I mean, jeez, you’re in jail.

Finally, the lawyers rested their cases and the six of us were sent to deliberate.

Guess who was the jury foreman? That’s right. Me. Because I have shit to do. It took less than five minutes.

That, my friends, is how you do jury duty.

I was notified of jury service several months ago. My scheduled date was for my second day at my new job. I called the jury office and the lovely lady moved my date to the beginning of this month.

The day before I was scheduled to appear, I checked the website to see if I actually had to show and my group wasn’t listed. YAY!!! Instead I went to lunch with Ava and the World’s Greatest Unemployed Receptionist. It was a hell of a lot better than languishing downtown in the jury room all day.

About a week later, I received a very firmly worded POSTCARD in the mail that I failed to show up for my jury duty. Wait, what? Yes, a post card. That’s what the Supreme Court people send out when they’re threatening you with the ultimate punishment for missing jury duty – a POSTCARD. If it wasn’t so damn funny, I’d have felt much more intimidated.

The CARD stated that if I failed to show they would issue a bench warrant.

Because that’s exactly how I expect to go to jail — failure to show up for jury duty. Can you imagine? Not for stealing an animal from the zoo. Not for stalking the Jared Leto with Ava. Not for smuggling exotic animals across the border.

It would be a hell of a blog, though, eh?

I called down there and this time the woman on the phone wasn’t nice. She was condescending. God, I hate that. Anyway, she rescheduled me AGAIN and was very firm that I actually show. Also, I should try not to be an idiot when I check the website for my number. She reiterated what I should wear because it was obvious that I had trouble reading. I felt properly belittled by a civil service employee.

I’m going to complain with a nasty postcard of my own+. I think one with a rabid squirrel on it will properly convey my feelings.

We wouldn’t put it past Jojo Kitty to sext other cats if he had access to a phone. We won’t even allow him to have a Facebook account.

The other morning, Ed and I decided to run some errands together. And by run errands together, I mean have Ed drive me around to do my five errands to his one because I lied and said I had two. I just add-on the others by saying, “Hey, would you mind stopping at one more place?” 3X. Ed and Amy fall for this ploy all the time, and I love them for it. But that’s not what this story is about. This story is about murder.

Our first stop was the pool store which caused me to immediately regret my decision to let Ed drive me around. I hate the pool store and, had I known his errand was the pool store, I would have driven my own damn self around.

To avoid the pool store, I decided I would visit the 24/7 fitness center right next door. Now, before you call me a liar

I wanna be her when I grow up

(Amy) I assure you this is true. Believe it or not, and those of you who have seen me might not believe it, I actually exercise. Being a peri-menopausal woman negates all of your efforts, but I still try. I purchased a rowing machine months ago which has not lived up to its hype on House of Cards. I regret to report I look no closer to being Robin Wright’s twin than I did on the day the machine arrived.

So, instead of buying yet another piece of expensive exercise equipment, I thought I might join a gym and use all of their exercise equipment to no avail for less money. After I entered, a twenty year old boy asked me if I was lost. I assured him I was there to look the place over. He assured me I was in a GYM and not a SHOP. I convinced him to show me around or I would call his mother.

Imagine my excitement when I saw a long row of TVs over the cardio equipment! I will only run if there is a TV in front of me. I asked how to change the channels and was told I could NOT change the channels at all. I asked if this was a communist gym. I’m not certain he’d ever heard of communists. He’d certainly never heard of Ronald Reagan. I suggested he stop hanging around a gym and go to school, but I digress. The boy/man told me to just use the treadmill in front of the show I wanted to watch. The problem with this is that there are only so many treadmills in front of each screen. If you want to watch a certain show but there aren’t any spaces left you have to behave yourself and not push people to the ground. I couldn’t promise this wouldn’t happen, but I did promise to try.

At the end of the tour, I saw Ed approaching the door. Here’s what you need to know about Ed – he is in amazing shape for a fifty-year-old guy. In fact, he’s in amazing shape for a thirty-year-old guy. He comes in and the tour boy is clearly eager to ditch me and help Ed because here’s a guy who belongs in the place. Ed walks over and I say, “Hi, honey, do you want to take the tour?”

And I swear this part is true – the fitness boy looks Ed over and then looks me over and the expression on his face says, “There is no way on earth you are married to this fine specimen of a man and, if you are, he’s going to leave you.” There’s pity in that expression. Ed has no idea this has occurred because he launches into a speech about how I’m the only one in the family who still works out and he wants to get started again. I love Ed.

Amylynn made a tactical error today. She wore jeans to work. It’s Friday after all and that means jeans. Anyway, she got the most adorable pink nail polish yesterday, and her toes need polishing. If this blog entry is never finished, it’s because she passed out trying to fold herself in half while wearing jeans. Have you ever tried to fold your foot up to your face when you’re wearing denim? First you feel a bit woogy from the polish fumes, and then you start to cough which is damn near impossible to do with your diaphragm constricted. Then the dizziness begins and, before you know it, there are stars dancing in front of your eyes. DO NOT fall off the chair when you pass out. That’s a rookie mistake. You’ll probably hit your head, but more devastating than that would be screwing up your polish because then you have to start all over again. Anyway, here’s some funny stuff while we practice breathing.

1. All the best people go. Some of them are dragged, kicking and screaming, but they go. We’re talking about Chipotle of course. We’re sure you’ve heard that Hillary Clinton was in Chipotle this past week. She and the vice-chairwoman of her campaign ordered just over $20 worth of food. The big scuttle butt is that Hillary didn’t speak to anyone there. The Sisters wonder if SHE WAS HUNGRY. Why doesn’t it ever occur to anyone that perhaps famous people get hungry and just want to shove some brown rice and genetically unaltered chicken in their mouths. Also, some people are also aghast that she didn’t tip–despite the fact that she didn’t pay. The other woman treated. We took an informal poll of people who eat at Chipotle and we learned that no one tips. We didn’t even know that was a thing. What have we learned from this story? That it’s going to be a very long political season.

2. Team Daenerys. We’ve been very forthright with you that, when it come to Game of Thrones, the Sisters are firmly intrenched in Team Daenerys. She has dragons. Enough said. Also, Khol Drogo. Seriously. Take a moment if you need one. There was a time when we could have been persuaded to go team Stark, but that was only because of the direwolves. When it comes right down to it, our favorite Stark has always been Arya regardless of her ownership of a direwolf (which she doesn’t have anymore now anyway). We have one thing to say to Daenerys. We’re really disappointed that you locked up your babies in a dungeon. No wonder they’re mad at you. Jeez, when

This is her current family

we are 3 minutes late with Jojo Kitty’s food he’s mad, and he gets free run of the house. We suspect you’re going to need those dragons very soon, honey, and you had better head down there with some kibble and make amends.

3. Where are her people? Have you heard about the crazy German woman who is having quadruplets. That sentence alone is enough to wonder about a person’s sanity, but there’s more. She’s 65-years-old. She already has 13 children ranging in age from 9 to 44 with five different fathers. She decided to get pregnant again because her 9-year-old daughter wanted a younger sibling. We’ll wait here while you roll your eyes.

Not your regular Starbucks machine

There is so much here to boggle the mind that we don’t even know where to start. She should have just gotten a dog, some therapy, and maybe a nice bottle of wine.

4. There is never an excuse for instant coffee. Cape Canaveral is getting ready to send SpaceX, a supply ship, to the International Space Station with an authentic espresso machine straight from Italy along with a bunch of food and stuff. The ISSpresso (get it? International Space Station = ISS) machine was made by Lavazza who worked with an engineer from Argotec and the Italian Space Agency to make a machine that works in space, and is intended for astronaut Samantha

Our Ipsy bag for April

Cristoforetti of Italy. Unbelievably she’s been up there since January drinking instant coffee. Egads! That’s appalling. Someone needs to answer for this.

5. Makeup samples are gifts from the gods. We defy you to find a woman who doesn’t love makeup samples. You won’t. She doesn’t exist. We located Ipsy and our prayers were answered. Each month they send you a bunch of samples, some things are even full size, of stuff you’d never have found on your own. We’ve amassed eye shadows, crazy-expensive moisturizer, nail polish, lip gloss, perfume, eye liner, mascara – you name it. And each month it comes in a different adorable little zippered clutch bag. See that pink polish – that’s the one on Amylynn’s toes right now. Yay! The Ipsy bag is here!

I’m so excited about this book because it’s a real departure from the regular Regency historical.

I wanted to try something different – and since Anna’s story has been requested so many times by my readers – I wanted to make sure she had something special.

For some reason, the minute I wrote him in the 2nd book, I had Captain Johnson pegged as the man for Anna. She’s a spunky, mouthy, opinionated lady and she needed someone who was going to take her out of her comfort zone.

I figured plopping her in the middle of the American West would do all that.

I’ll tell you it was a bitch to research. Getting someone UP the Mississippi river in 1815 was HARD.

Anyway, you’ve seen the cover,  but it’s so gorgeous, I’ll show you again.

Miss Sinclair’s Secret

Anna Sinclair is an English lady who refuses to settle—not if all her friends have love matches. When she receives notification that her father, General Sinclair, is missing and presumed dead in America shortly after the War of 1812, she knows she has nothing to lose by going to find him. In an untamed country, she’ll need to navigate the Mississippi River, miles of wilderness, earthquakes, Indians, and one absurdly attractive American sea captain.

Nathaniel Johnson is an American patriot whose only goal is to return to the country he loves with his recently located brother, a sailor impressed by the British. The money offered to escort a young English woman to the United States is too much to pass up when he’s desperately trying to save his family’s shipping empire. The beautiful lady spins a ridiculous tale about looking for her father, but Nate has powerful reasons to believe she’s a spy for the Crown. He’ll help her on her quest, at least until he can prove her villainous intent.

Will Anna’s secret destroy his country and be his undoing?

Buy it here!

As promised, we managed to get my radio interview during the Greenburg Financial program onto a manageable format.

You know what pleases me the most about this recording? My voice does NOT sound like a little kid’s. Nor does it sound like a chipmunk. Honestly, that was one of my biggest fears.

It runs for just over 25 minutes. Let me know what you think.

Thank you very much, Mr. Bright, for muscling this into something I can use.