July 13, 2007

Have you missed me?

I’ve certainly missed all of you and everything to do with the elecronic world.

Several weeks back my computer acted weird, especially Outlook Express. As you all know, these things don’t cure themselves no matter how hard we hope. It got to the point that I had to call in the Geek Squad.

The voice who answers their phone, 1-800-GeekSquad, sounds just like Sgt. Joe Friday from the old Dragnet series. Immediately, I was in a better mood. The best part is you talk to a HUMAN. How’s that for customer service?

Agent David pulled up in his VW bug a few days later. With clipboard in hand, he introduced himself while straightening his narrow black tie over his pure white short sleeved shirt. After almost two hours of frantic typing and mouse clicking, the poor guy shook his head, but that tie never moved an inch from its original location, and told me he’d have to return in a few days. I wasn’t happy but I could understand he had other commitmenmts. Probably at the local bar because he seemed pretty frustrated at all the viruses that had attacked my poor old Dell.

Dave returned five days later and worked for hours. I’d already backed up everything but a few files, so it didn’t take long for him to dump my system, clean it, and reload, only another four plus hours. Now I’m in computer heaven. My internet runs like the wind and my old baby is like brand new.

Here’s my computer problem advice for today - don’t screw around with cousin Bill who thinks he knows what he’s doing and is dirt cheap. You’re only going to end up more frustrated. Call the Geek Squad. They’re fun and sure know what the heck they’re doing.

Be sure to join me along with Barbara Clark, Ann Cory, Kate Hill, Tuesday Morrigan, for Guest Author Day over at Sherrill Quinn’s Follow Your Passion Yahoo Group;

Saturday July 14, 2007
9:00 am - 9:00 pm CST

We’ll all have some neat prizes along with tantalizing excerpts. Until then…

Happy Writing!
Sloane

June 23, 2007

Sadly, I must report…

Triskelion Publishing has decided to file Chapter 7 bankruptcy through the Arizona courts on July 2, 2007. The authors were notified by a general email from owner Kristi Studts the afternoon of June 20.

What does this mean to all of us authors? Quite simply that our books, contracts and royalties are frozen until the court makes its decisions. Unfortunately, this could take years. So for any of us to move to a new publisher means we have to produce fresh stories.

Triskelion Publishing is still selling books off their web site, but none of the authors will see an income from these sales. I ask that you please be aware, should you decide to purchase any of these fine books from Triskelion, that we authors will not receive an accounting and therefore no money.

I also want to thank all of you for your support and for helping me achieve my goals. Our newsletter and this ol’ gal will still be around for a long time.

Now I’m off to write new stories then submit them to the wonderful publishers who have already requested my work.

Have a great weekend.

Happy Writing!
Sloane

May 2, 2007

Who slapped that cheeseburger on my ass?

Studs oldest daughter is getting married June 2 and everyone is getting into wedding mode. About two weeks back the time had come for his tuxedo fitting and my search for a dress. We don’t like to jump into things and usually wait to the last minute if you haven’t guessed.

Off we went to the bridal shop/tuxedo store and the ruination of my life.

While Studs is standing spread-eagle and a dozen young hands slide across his body, I wander over to the racks of gowns in every conceivable color you could imagine. Dress upon dress and rack after rack, no matter what the size (trust me, I am not fessing up here to my number) they all looked like I should have a lily in one hand and the other on a casket lid, ready to slam it shut.

Finally, I found one under $600.00 (gasp), a pale aqua with the least amount of plastic rhinestones and requested a dressing room.

The room the perky clerk escorted me to had a dozen mirrors and a platform. I figured it had to be the one for the bridal dress fittings. She left with a promise to return and I stripped down to my usual Saturday housecleaning undies. And the real trauma began.

No matter where I looked, cellulite bulged and dared me to fit my big butt into the only dress in the entire shop that might not make me look like a corpse. The entire episode was horrible. After much sucking in and wiggling, I handed the dress to the clerk then we left with me in a mood to chew nails.

On the drive home I decided no more soft drinks, beer, wine, vodka, breads, or anything above a calorie count of two would pass my lips. Studs was very sympathetic and had enough sense not to ask what happened. The man has a true survivor instinct. I had also vowed to finally exercise before my ass took over our entire town and ran for mayor. Again, Studs reacted like a champ and didn’t utter one word. In fact, he kept his eyes glued to the road. Now you know why I love this guy. He’s got brains.

I was good. I swear I was. For almost four days. I exercised, which I hate, and gave up all the good things in life, except Studs. I behaved with determination until one day when my writing and the telephone had driven me insane. And the whole damned program fell like Rome. I have no self-control and admit it.

Now it’s four weeks until the wedding and I am dressless with a stomach big enough that it should start paying taxes in the next county. CRAP! And I dread my next excursion into the land of clothes shops.

Do you think anyone would notice if I wore a paper sack?

Sloane

February 13, 2007

Brrrrr

Winter has truly arrived in Northwest Indiana. It’s hard to tell if the snow is falling or just blowing as I look out my writing room window. All I want to do is pull my robe tighter around my legs to keep out the draft.

Unfortunately, there’s no excuse for me not to write.

Well, it’s off to Francie and Heicke to see what kind of trouble they can land themselves into today.

You all keep warm and safe.

Sloane

February 8, 2007

And so she returns

a wiser but sadder woman after more then a week on jury duty. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

Our defendant was charged with One Count of Murder and One Count of Murder in the Perpetration of a Robbery. The judge would not tell us the punishment for each crime as it should have had no bearing on the evidence and verdict.

We listened to the Prosecutor and Defense Attorney bring in their truths and red herrings. The Prosecutor lost a lot of ground by his antics. In fact, all the jurors were insulted at how he talked down to us, as if we could not walk and chew gum at the same time. The guy was a real piece of work. A pompous ass as one juror decided.

The defense attorney was a true professional. He questioned each witness with a calm, polite manner as he worked through the crimes. Unfortunately, it was one thing he said in passing that finally cinched the verdict for us all.

It took many hours of debate and frustration as we each fought with our consciences, but eventually we all agreed on the verdicts. Not guilty on the Count of Murder, but guilty on the second charge.

Back at home, curiosity got the better of me and I researched the Indiana criminal sentences to discover Indiana still imposes the death penalty for murder. On the second count, the minimum sentence is 65 years.

There is a sadness that swallows me every day as I think of this young man and how he ruined his life for a few hundred dollars. It saddens me further to realize our world has resorted to this condition.

Sloane

January 28, 2007

There’s Trouble in River City

Our federal court system has decided to summon me for jury duty. Yup! Me who can’t decide a thing on her own and always believes the last thing she heard. With any luck I won’t get selected for a case unless it’s one where a cat bit a dog. Even then I’d have a hard time voting on the verdict.

So I’m off with pen and notebook in hand, hoping to get info for a future book. See you all in a week. In the mean time…

Happy Writing!
Sloane

January 10, 2007

You’re on the wrong site!

Hi Everyone, today is my turn to blog at Triskelion Authors. Head on over to http://triskelionauthors.blogspot.com/ to read what an author has to put with during her career.

I’ll be back later this week with a hot blog, so stay tuned!

Sloane

December 5, 2006

You’re at the wrong blog!

Hey! You should be over at the Triskelion Authors blog http://triskelionauthors.blogspot.com/ not here.

Head on over, I’ve got a contest running and would love to have you win.

Sloane

November 21, 2006

I Have Been Possessed and Lived to Tell

It all started this past Sunday when I snapped a dishcloth in Rex Grossman’s face. He had done yet another stupid play and I’d finally had enough.

Studs and I, loyal Bears fans that we are, were glued to the TV. Now I’m not the world’s most brilliant person, but I know dumb when I see it and Grossman was once again playing brainless. I was so aggravated that I retreated into the kitchen to complete the finishing touches for our little tailgate party.

Halftime came, the food was ready, and I was still pissed at Mr. Football. Studs moved to the couch for easier access to the coffee table and his plate while I grabbed a wing chair with the remote stuffed in the cushion. Earlier Studs had been flipping channels between the Bears and the Patriots games. I adore Bill Belachek and his coaching. No one can fault the guy’s leadership or record. After grumbling about the remote’s location, jammed into my hip was not pleasant, I took over the job as head clicker. And I fell in love!

It all became clear why men were drawn to and driven by the power of such a small device. If Grossman pissed me off again one easy finger action, not that one people, and click it was Tom Brady doing some spectacular play. What a rush!

When the afternoon games were finished, we sped through cleaning the cottage and headed back to the city for the Sunday Night games with the best announcers around, John Madden and Al Michaels.

We make it home in time for the kickoff of the Chargers and Broncos. Within minutes, Studs was in dreamland stretched out on the recliner and I was nestled into the couch under a thirty pound afghan with the remote, because now it’s mine, lying on my chest.

The power. God, I loved the power. Click, it’s the game, another click, it’s Without a Trace. Back and forth, back in forth, all night long. I was in Utopia.

Monday night football arrived and I skulked around until I located my new best friend, the remote. Back under the afghan and another re-entry to Eden. That awesome power was back.

Somewhere in the back of my mind a niggling fear took hold. Had aliens come down and changed me into a man? Was my next gesture a public scratch? Shudders ran threw me at the vile thought. I lifted my thin narrow friend and eyed it suspiciously. Was it some foreign device erasing my femininity?

Reason took hold. With a shriek I tossed the evil devil across the room onto Studs lap, vowing never to cohabitate with the devil again.

The world is again on its axis and I am at peace. Life is once again normal as I consider which lingerie to wear and plan dinner. The horror has ended and I am grateful.

Sloane

November 14, 2006

You put that little thingy where?

Have you ever jumped into the shower and had ice chunks rain down on your naked body? I did last week and it was horrible.

We have this problem with our hot water heater and its venting system. The amount of wind has absolutely no effect on it. It’s the wind direction that matters. Unfortunately, we’ve never been able to figure out what that direction is. So all you can do is flip the faucet and hope for the best.

And that’s just what I did last Friday without success. Freezing and swearing I grabbed a robe then stomped to the heater with my blow torch in hand, vowing this time I’d buy the new On Demand Water Heater no matter how much the damned thing cost.

Once at the water heater I saw our pilot was located about a half inch off the floor in the smallest laundry room any builder could plan. There’s not a lot of room for my 5′ 8″ to sprawl out, but I made it. Time after time I followed the re-start directions. Time after time the damned thing refused to light.

What’s a frustrated woman to do? Call Studs. I hate to bother him at work, but I was pissed by now and wanted a damned hot shower. We discussed the problem, one of us civilly while the other was cussing a blue streak. I’m sure you’ve guessed who was doing what. We agreed I’d go to the parts store and buy a new thermocouple and Studs would change it when he got home.

So on the way to the store I’m thinking, what would my heroine do? Francine is a feisty gal even if she is only 5′ 4″. Dammit! Francie would get down on the floor and fix the thing herself. Well, if Francie could do it, why couldn’t Sloane? I made up my mind right then and there I would.

The man at the store was a doll, not with his assistance - just with his gorgeous blue eyes with thick black lashes. Why is it guys always have long eyelashes? Anyhow, I digress. All this man kept saying was, “Follow the directions” and “Don’t force it”. Not much help in my humble opinion because I have a problem reading and deciphering the written word on stuff.

Back home, I ripped open the plastic packet and read the directions. I may as well have been reading Greek for all the sense it made to me. With the parts dumped on the floor and me flat on my back, I used my handy-dandy flashlight to figure out the removal of the old and installation of the new.

Hot Damn! I could do this and did in a matter of about 20 minutes. So for $7.93 I fixed the hot water heater, eased Studs burden on the home front, and got a great back rub for all my efforts. Did I forget to mention how extremely proud I felt at doing something out of my realm? Oh yeah, I was dancing on air.

Maybe this week I attempt the vacuum cleaner and figure out why the thing barely sucks!

Have a great week,
Sloane