Thirty-five years ago today, I met David S. Jones, III for the first time. He didn’t have much of a personality, but was cuter than the dickens. Of course, he was only a few hours old, so I didn’t expect him to grow on me immediately. But it was love at first sight. David was my first nephew and it didn’t take long for him to learn how to con his Aunt Jackie.

As our acquaintanceship grew, I discovered he was funny, mischievous, stubborn, and loving. He and my older son, Frank, loved to get together. What trouble one didn’t think of, the other would. Usually, they played well together and when my second son, David, was born, they had no problem adding him to their games…as long as he acknowledged their superior position in the pecking order. And when David’s brother, Aaron, joined the family, it was like having a pack of maniacs during family holiday gatherings. What joy they added to everything!

As an adult, David kept that sweetness of character. He didn’t always make the wisest life choices, but he never forgot his family and our love for him. And when he died at the age of thirty, it was as if the heart of the family was gone. He used to live near my home and every time I pass where he lived, I think of him. I ponder what he would be doing with his life if he were still alive. I wonder if he knew how much I loved him. And if he knew how precious he was to me…even the times when I was ready to smack the side of his head. One great anticipation I have is when I will someday reach the Pearly Gates and see his wide grin on the other side.

Little man, now so far from us, we still love and miss you.

I’m on the hunt for a new hunk.

“What!!??” you say. “What the heck are you talking about, girl?”

I’ll tell you what I’m talking about. From the time I was about 12 years old, I’ve had a hunk in my life that all my fantasies revolved around. I’m not talking about the dorky boys in my school. I’m talking about the suave, handsome movie stars that made my pre-teen heart pitter-patter. No rock stars for me. No Elvis Presley or Frankie Avalon. No Monkees or Beach Boys or Beatles. (Okay, Ringo for a very brief, insane moment.)
The first one was James Mason. Most of you are probably too young to remember him, but he was the British dude in Journey to the Center of the Earth. The rest of my friends might have swooned over Pat Boone, but I gave my heart to that sophisticated Englishman and hunted down all his films to watch.

Then came Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, the TV show. Did I fall for the tall, dark, and handsome David Hedison? Noooo. I fell for middle-aged, red-haired Richard Basehart. Then came David McCallum, the Russian heart-throb in Man From Uncle. (Have to admit I’ve fallen in love again with David now that he’s in NCIS on Tuesdays.)

Nowadays, my hunks are no longer picked on their ability to share my fantasy adventures. No, eroticism has more to do with my choices. Intelligence (Mr. Spock), kissable lips (Sean Connery), sense of humor (Harrison Ford), six-pack abs (Brad Pitt)… Well, you get the idea. Every time my life started getting me down, I would always say “(Fill in the blank), come and rescue me.”

Today, as I was folding laundry (a prime time for my brain to throw out trivia), it dawned on me, that my latest hunk was the father of six and showing some wear. Time for me to find a new hunk. Problem is, I have no idea who! Despite thinking Orlando Bloom is cute as a bug, picking him as my new hunk seems a little like incest. He’s sooo young! Any ideas, anyone?

This is going to be a change for me. Up to now, I’ve blogged as someone who has to be entertaining. Since no one can be “on stage” all the time, that meant I too often go for days without blogging at all. Friends have told me that the secret to good blogging is like writing in a daily journal or talking to your best friend on the phone every day.

Now personally, I think my life is pretty humdrum. I mean, that’s why I became a writer. So that I can put some adventure into my days. My life divides into going to work at the hospital and not going to work. When I work, I drag myself out of bed at 5:00AM. I know! Who knew there was life before 9:00AM? Because I’m a woman who likes to savor her coffee with her paper, I don’t have coffee on the days I work. Instead I have ice tea. Go figure, but it works for me.

By six, I’m dressed in my uniform, loaded down with my nursing bag, lunch box, and bottle of ice tea to get me through to lunch, and out the door for the thirty-five minute drive to The Children’s Hospital at St. Francis here in Tulsa. Now as much as I hate going to work at this ungodly hour, once I’m there, through report, and actually on my first set of rounds, it’s interacting with “my” kids and their families that makes my day really take off.

Oh, the work is hard and can be heart-breaking at times. But it’s the small successes that make it worthwhile. When I can start an IV and get the lab in one stick. When I can relieve a mom’s worry that children are much tougher than people give them credit. When I can convince a grandmother that letting her baby eat the bubbles in her bath DIDN’T give her the menegitis. And when I can send a baby home, well and happy, I love the way their little arms curl around my neck as I get my good-bye hug. Yep, those are the things that send me home singing.

So maybe I’ll never be a prolific, well-known author whose books will last through the centuries. I have to admit, knowing that I had some small part in helping thousands of children over the past 28 years gives me some pride. And it keeps me dragging my butt out of bed at 5:00AM when it’s time to do it again.

Do you realize that ever American now plays the lottery? I’m not talking about the Powerball or Lotto; I’m speaking about the Great American Gas Lottery.
Here is how it works. Every day I drive, I’m constantly checking out gas prices. Should I top my tank today? Or should I wait another day and hope the prices will drop? And once I’ve actually filled my car, I watch the prices. I curse if they drop after I fill up and rejoice if they go up.
I’m one of those who can actually remember gas wars. Back in the ‘50s and early ‘60s, gas companies would battle for customers. That was in the days of full service. You would pull up to the pump and some young hunk would trot out, start the gas filling in your tank, and wash your windows, front and back, before taking your money. Sometimes, they would even check your water and oil levels as well as your tire pressure.
Okay, maybe the guy wouldn’t be a hunk (usually he would be a grease monkey, complete with black-rimmed fingernails. Ewwww!) The point is, you could sit in your car like a queen and be waited on. Even when the companies went to self-serve (to pay for the gas wars, no doubt), paying 60 cents a gallon was worth hauling your tush out of the car and pumping the gas yourself.
But now, with gas prices varying from $3.35/gallon (what we’re paying in Tulsa right now) to over four dollars (OMG!), most of us are gambling from day to day on “When should I get gas?”. Sometimes, I’ve seen drivers only buy $5 worth of gas, gambling that prices will be lower before the two pints of fuel they bought will need to be replaced.
Now, if only I could win the Powerball…just so I can continue to play the Great American Gas Lottery!

One of the reasons I didn’t blog for four months is that I lost both my computers. The third week of November, my desktop crashed and couldn’t be repaired for less than a new one would cost. It been having some problems before then, so I wasn’t surprised it died. The main concern for me is that I didn’t want to buy a new one that close to Christmas. And since I had my laptop, I could still work.
A week later, my laptop crashed and it, too, couldn’t be repaired. Under better circumstances, I would have danced with joy because, to be honest, I hated that laptop with a passion. But since losing it meant I had NO computers, I just about freaked out. After all, a writer NEEDS a computer. So, I bit the bullet and ordered a Dell desktop, complete with the newest MS Office and Quicken software. Luckily, you can get Dell computers with the XP platform because I still have my ancient Rocketbook eReaders and I’m not sure the new Vista would let me use them.
In no time flat, I had my new computer. Nice big flat screen…no sluggish action…and the CPU is now where I can reach it instead of on the floor. But I still wasn’t happy. Why? Because I had all new software to learn and none of my old Quicken files would open in the new software. Ack! So, for the past few weeks, I’ve been slowly learning how to use the new software.
Now, about my laptop… Ah, a match made in heaven. First, you must understand that the last two laptops I bought, I spent $1200-1500, but only used them occasionally, mostly so I’d have email when away from home. Here at the house, I only had dial-up and nowadays, most hotels use wi-fi. I’d already switched from dial-up to cable for a faster speed on the ‘Net and I love it. A couple of weeks ago, I heard about a website called Property Room.com where you could buy stuff from police property rooms. Actually, it’s an auction site and they carry more than just property room goods; they also had used laptops from companies that upgrade.
And they had the LAPTOP! Yes, my friends, I’m in love again! I bid on and won a used Dell laptop, complete with XP, a nine pin serial port (Does anyone even remember what those are???) which will let me use my Rocket Reader AND it had wi-fi. For the price of the laptop plus the cost of a new power cord and upgrading the RAM to 2 gigs, I have the laptop of my dreams at half the cost! I even kicked in for a wi-fi router so I could get wi-fi at my “out-in-the-boonies” home.
So, that’s my tale of two computers. I have my big “hoss”, the desktop for my official writing and when I’m ready to lay back and email, I have the laptop which allows me to sit in my recliner and email to my heart’s content. I tell you, friends, life doesn’t get any better.

Remember last time when I told you about my tax man retiring? (Oh, and by the way, I was able to do my own taxes…no sweat! Thanks to Turbo Tax, I zipped through my return with only a couple of stumbles. I then e-filed that puppy and with the magic of direct deposit, got my refund almost immediately. Now, I’ve been obeying my commander-in-chief and “stimulating” the sluggish economy big time.) Anyway, I had another occasion where I realized that there is an aspect of aging that no one ever talks about…the loss of service people.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a leaking toilet. When I called the plumber I’ve used for over 20 years, his phone had been disconnected. Eldon had been hinting for a couple of years that he was thinking about retiring and I guess he finally did it. I wept a tear, then called another local plumber. After waiting most of the day for him to come AND not hearing from him or being able to reach him, I finally called another local company. Of course, by then, it was after hours (translation: time and a half). When they got there, the fix took ten seconds, but the guy didn’t charge me at all. Needless to say, I have a new plumber.
But all this turmoil brought to mind something that no one told me about getting old. There’s lots of talk about aches and pains, not making the goals you had as a young adult, and a decreased libido. (What!!!??) But no one mentioned that as you age, so do the people around you who have made your life easier. Like Walt the optometrist who knew I was a single mother and would let me pay off my kids’ glasses when money was tight. And there’s Eldon who always came, day or night, when I had plumbing emergencies, but still charged me reasonable fees. And Lou the tax guy who wouldn’t let me take my writer’s deductions, but believed in my eventual sale and when I got it, filed amended returns that got me back all that money.
Yes, these are the people who have been in my life, through the bad times and good, loyal, hard-working, and true. I still have long-time service-friends; my doctor and dentist are still with me, mainly because they are my age and with luck, won’t retire until I’m too old to care. Meanwhile, I lift a glass in a toast to Lou, Eldon, and Walt. Thanks, guys, for being there all those years when I needed you. And may you enjoy your retirement…while I continue to slave on. Boo-Hoo!

No, this isn’t an April Fool’s Day prank. I’m back! The past four months have been filled with some of the trials and tribulations that humans are wont to suffer. I’m not going to tell you all of them, but I will share some of the more fascinating things that occurred.
For now, I’m going to share a personal April Fool’s Day thing that happened to me today. Some of you may not know, but writers are able to deduct portions of their household costs from their taxes as business expenses. Because I don’t make a living with my writing, I have two incomes to juggle. Since I’m one of the few people who has NEVER done my own tax papers, for the past 20 years, I’ve been using the services of a lovely CPA, Lou Barnett.
For those of you who wonder what the big deal is, writers can claim special deductions. A percentage of the mortgage payments, utilities, and office supplies can be deducted as is common in most home business. As well, I can deduct professional dues and conference expenses. But the coolest things I can deduct are the tons of books, new and used, and magazines I buy. It’s called “market research material”. How neat is that?! But this calls for “itemizing” and that’s where Lou comes in.
Lou is smart, savvy, and most of all, honest. Anytime I wanted to claim something that might be in the “gray” area, Lou would take me by the hand, look me in the eye, and gently, but firmly tell me “No”. This year, Lou has had some health issues (not unexpected since he is now 73 years old), but felt he could still do my taxes for me. Unfortunately, two days ago, he had to change his mind.
So, two weeks before deadline, I found myself in the position that I must make other arrangements to get my taxes filed. My first option was to go to a nationally known tax preparing service (which I won’t name, but it’s NOT H&R!) and throw myself on their mercy. Imagine my surprise when they stated that the cost would start at more than twice what Lou charged…and probably would be more than that. Ack! What an April Fool’s joke!
First, you must understand that I have NEVER done my own taxes. Shameful, but true. When I was younger, my mom did them for me and when I got married, my husband did them. After my divorce, my mom tried to teach me how to do them, but when it comes to financial stuff, I’m a total dummy. She’s the one who found Lou for me…a match made in heaven.
However, after hearing what it may cost me, I’ve decided to take my destiny into my own hands with the aid of Turbo Tax. I do have a friend standing by if I need help (Thanks, Marilyn!) and my copies of past tax filings. So, wish me luck! I’ll keep you posted on how I do. Hopefully, my next posting won’t come from a federal prison somewhere…serving time for tax evasion!

I have to be honest. I’ve never gone THIS long without blogging. I won’t go into all the things going on in my life because who wants to listen to someone else’s whining?  Right now, my life is a little overwhelming and it’s kept me from blogging like I’d hoped. However, I would like to say that one thing that kept me off the ‘Net was a conference by my local romance writers’ group, Romance Writers Ink.

Wow! What a good time I had. To be honest, I think part of the reason I enjoyed it so much was because I didn’t have anything to try and sell. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But those of you who aren’t writers, probably the hardest part of being a writer isn’t the writing. It’s selling yourself as a writer. What?! Yep, it’s not your book you have to sell to an editor or agent; it’s yourself as a selling author. That means networking, promoting, all the things that I’m soooo bad at doing. So, since I didn’t have anything to pitch (since I STILL haven’t finished my book), it was easier to enjoy the conference as just an attendee.

Also, during the conference, I had to leave to attend a celebration for the hospital I work at, The Children’s Hospital at St. Francis. I’ve now been working there for ten years. In fact, as of this month, I’ve been a pediatric nurse for 27 years. If there is anything I love more than writing, it’s children. Snotty noses, whining, bite marks and all…I love them. Of course, there are also hugs, kisses, and laughter like sunshine in the heart. You never really see the world until you see it through the eyes of a child. And no matter what I do to them, children find it easy to forgive. So, I have to say, I’ll never regret all the years I’ve committed to children. I only wish I could do it forever.

Enough rambling. Soon, I’m going to do a website upgrade. I’m out of town next week (no phones, no work except writing, and all the chocolate chip cookies I can eat!), so watch for a change in the wind. And I haven’t forgotten that I promised to share my vampire research. With luck, I’ll get that blogged in this week or before I leave next week. Meanwhile, Happy Halloween to all!

Guest of Honor (GoH) at Conestoga 11 was Laurell K. Hamilton who writes that fantastic Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter series, so, of course, vampires were theme for the day. Conestoga has always had a great mix of panels on writing, media, SF/horror authors, and, this year, they added a music track by spotlighting filk, or SF folk singing, for you Mundanes who know nothing about the world of SF or conventions. For the first time in years, I served on two panels and I have to admit I was pretty nervous about looking like an idiot. What we do in our younger days can be daunting in our senior years.

But when the time came to be on my first panel, VAMPS: FROM FOLKLORE TO BRAM STOKER TO PRESENT DAY SEXY HEROES, it was like riding a bicycle. I slid right into the rhythm. Of course, it helped that my good friend, Bev Hale was the moderator. I had been worried because I don’t WRITE vampires (though in reading, they’re my number one urban fantasy hero), but it turned out, that a couple of other members didn’t write vamps, either. And one was having her very first book, with a half-vampire heroine, come out next October. Luckily, we also had Lee Killough, another old friend whose vampire series (BLOOD HUNT, BLOODLINKS, and BLOOD GAMES) is still considered one of the most innovative vampire series in science fiction today.

The panel went great. I had such fun on it and had done a bunch of research. Did you know that vampires can be slowed down on their attack if you throw down a handful of grain or rice? Seems that vampires are fascinated with counting things. Is that how Sesame Street got their Count? And did you know that Cornell University actually did a study where the law of physics and math debunked Vampires and other spectral beings? My fellow panel members asked that I post some of my research on my blog, so watch for further upcoming information. I’ll try to condense my facts into a simple history of vampire folklore.

Last weekend, I attended Conestoga 11, a local Science Fiction convention. In some ways, it was like going home. For close to twenty years, I had been involved with cons (as SF fans call their gatherings), whether it was as a member, guest speaker, or part of the con committee. The latter are the saints who spend the greater part of the year organizing a convention and Conestoga 11’s con committee did a wonderful job. Any place where I can come home with over $150 of books and CDs is a booming success with me.

Only one bad thing happened to me at the con. I have a denim jacket that I used to wear to every con I attended. It was covered with ST and NASA patches. I even had a ST “Medical Corps” patch which I bought because I’m a nurse in my “mundane” life. I also had several small pewter fantasy creatures pinned to my collar. I’ve had people tell me it was the most singular thing they remember about me at past cons. The jacket doesn’t really fit any more, but I wore it for old times sake. When I got home, I discovered that I had lost my tiny dragon. We’re talking about having had him for longer than I had my ex-husband! All night, I kept having these dreams about my little dragon wandering through the halls of the hotel, crying because he wasn’t with the rest of his friends on my jacket.

When I was going to cons in the past, I had a group of friends that usually went with me. We met at OKon, a SF convention held by Starbase Tulsa, a SF/ST club I co-founded. This group of friends eventually became known as The Great Broads of the Galaxy, a play on Gene Roddenberry’s ST nickname. (In case you didn’t know, Gene Roddenbery, or the Great Bird of the Galaxy, was the original producer of the STAR TREK phenomenon.) And over the years, we shared a lot. We wrote together, put out fanzines (amateur magazines devoted to fan interests), released an audio tape of our own filk (science fiction folk songs), and attended cons all over the country. We would rent one room, no matter how many of us went, and swarm the con as a group. It was part of the glue that made us the friends we are today.

But at Conestoga 11, I was alone. Oh, I meet with old friends that I’ve known for years. You can’t go to any SF convention without meeting basically the same people. And I loved seeing all those people. But the Broads weren’t there. I would see a painting at the art show, turn, and Raynett wouldn’t be there to share her opinion. I went to the filk, but Jeanne and Cheryl weren’t there to sing with me. Rhea, I needed you with me when I prowled the dealers’ room. And where was Joyce and her camera to record the event for prosperity…and one of her fantastic slide shows?

They were ghosts in the halls. And I missed you, guys.