Ellen B.

My Writing Process

Today is blog tour day and I’m talking about my writing process. I’d like to thank Sharon Struth, at http://sharonstruth.wordpress.com/2014/01/27/my-writing-process-blog-tour/ for inviting me to become a stop on the tour.

1) What am I working on?

I’m currently writing the second book in a romance trilogy titled Planning for Love. In addition, I’m preparing for the release of my first Women’s fiction novel, Poplar Place; due out March 27. That also means I’m in the process of editing, promotion, and street team prep. I’m also researching and writing a WWII spy novel tentatively titled, Nazis, Spies & American GIs. I’m having a blast researching and conducting interviews with vets and even a German who survived the Berlin bombings.

2) How does my work differ from others of its genre?

For my romances I tend to cross genres by adding a bit of mystery and suspense. My readers feel it makes my stories more enjoyable however it can be a tough sell to publishers. Additionally, I always like to add humor to my stories. I love a book that can make me laugh, so I always try to provide some levity for my readers.

3) Why do I write what I do?

I would love to provide some deep illuminating thoughts about how I started writing in this genre–but the reality is; I write what I do because I can. I don’t write non-fiction because it doesn’t interest me. I don’t have the stomach or inclination to write bloody thrillers and murder mysteries. I wish I could come up with a fabulous Young Adult novel, because the genre is a hot comodity, but inspiration has yet to strike. I’m a sucker for happy endings. Therefore, I write about women and romance.

4) How does your writing process work?

Ha! My process is all over the place. Ideas for books come at me from all directions-books I read, movies and television shows I watch, general world observations, the newspapers, but most of all-dreams. Many times climaxes of a story have come to me in dreams. If the dream is vivid enough it’ll stick with me and throughout the day and I’ll ruminate on it, maybe jotting down some ideas. Then I’ll toss story lines around in my head. I work a lot in my head, once in a while I’ll produce a written outline, but mostly the outline sits on the back burner of my brain.

Once I figure out a beginning and ending, I’ll start writing. Sometimes I’ll research along the way, or if it’s out of my realm of knowledge I’ll research it first before putting finger to keyboard. Like what I’m doing for my WWII spy novel.

Sometimes I suffer from writer’s block. I know where I want the story to go, but don’t know how to get there. I’ll lie on the couch, and run scenarios through my head until the right scene gels. Then I type like mad before it leaves. I’ve also been known to have full scenes come to me even though it’s ten chapters away. So, I’ll write down that chunk of scene and pull it out after I’ve written to it. I don’t recommend this way of working. I always have to deal with fixing inconsistencies. On the other hand, I’ve written some really moving scenes that I’m proud of.

Up next for the tour on February 10

Angel Nicholas writes dark romantic suspense. When she’s not whipping up writerly concoctions, she can be found in the nearest shoe store, Starbucks, tormenting her darling children, or traveling to wild and exotic destination-otherwise known as daydreaming. Here in cyber-land, you may find her playing on Facebook, tweeting on Twitter or randomly blogging. To follow any important news, be sure to check out her website. http://authorangelnicholas.blogspot.com

Beth Rhodes writes about her favorite things: family and love. When she isn’t writing about it, she’s living it with her Army husband and their five kids. She lives in the beautiful state of Colorado, where she gets her fill of cool weather, running, camping, and coffee drinking. http://bethwritesromance.blogspot.com/2014/01/my-writing-process-blog-tour.html

Tracey Livesay is the author of contemporary interracial romance. Her debut novel, The Tycoon’s Socialite Bride, Book #1 in the “In Love With A Tycoon” Series will be released on February 10, 2014 from Entangled Publishing. http://traceylivesay.com/mimosas-at-midnight/

Second Chance Christmas – Excerpt

Looking for something to read during the holidays? Like a quick, fun read with a little spice? Look no further – Second Chance Christmas is now available at Amazon.

Second Chance Christmas

“Nice ride.” He spoke in a neutral tone.

“Thanks.” I shifted into gear and pulled away. The heated seats quickly warmed the chilly car. I wove my way through the city streets, heading toward I-395. With the hour so late, the highway would be free of heavy traffic and the fastest way to get to Colton’s condo in Shirlington, Virginia.

He broke the silence. “I’m not staying at my apartment.”

“Why not?”

“It’s been rented.”

I pulled into a street parking space and came to a stop, my hands rested on the steering wheel. “Where have you been staying?” If he gave me an address in Maryland, I would reach across the console and strangle him. It was now a quarter past one in the morning. I had zero interest in schlepping him to some friend’s house in Rockville or Bethesda.

“Up until this morning? Walter Reed.”

I exhaled with a rush. Clearly, my assumption that his limp had something to do with the bar fight that caused his head injury was way off base. Walter Reed Medical Center, a prominent hospital located in Bethesda, Maryland, served the DC area’s population of wounded soldiers and veterans. I shifted my back against the door and faced his profile. “How long were you at Walter Reed?”

His jaw muscles contracted as he continued to gaze out the front window. “They flew me in from Ramstein Air Base about two weeks ago.”

I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “What happened?”

“Caught some shrapnel from an IED.”

Wind whistled through my teeth. “Did you-that is, your leg-is it-?”

For the first time since we’d gotten in the car, he turned, and his sepia brown eyes met my gaze. “Did I lose it?”

I bit my lip and nodded.

“No, it’s still there.” He tapped his thigh. “They dug most of the shrapnel out in Germany before flying me to the States, but they missed a piece and had to cut me open again at Walter Reed. Some specialist worked on it. Caused muscle damage. I may never be able to walk right.”

“I see-I’m sorry to hear that.” I was sorry he’d been injured. “I’m glad you’re still alive.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, of course!” His sarcasm cut me to the quick. Our relationship might have ended on an acrimonious note, but I certainly didn’t wish him pain. The tension in the car was so thick you could slice it with an X-Acto. Hurt, anger, and guilt that I thought I’d come to terms with two years ago welled up to form a choking lump in my throat.

Colton clamped his teeth and his jaw muscles flexed, whether from pain or hostility, I didn’t know. His ability to hide his emotions had been one of the strike points in our relationship. That’s what came from dating an Army intelligence officer. They were trained to suppress their true feelings. This wasn’t the first time I had no idea what he was thinking. However, considering our last parting shots at each other, I could surmise his thoughts weren’t pleasant.

I ceded the staring contest. My eyes shifted to gaze blankly out of the windshield at the white Camry in front of us. My chestnut curls fell forward to shield my face and emotions from him.

“So,” I croaked, and then cleared my throat to try again. “If you hate me so much, do you mind explaining why I’m still listed as in your phone as an emergency contact?”

“Why? Did I drag you away from a hot date?” he bit out.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” I shot back. “I was at the French Embassy enjoying a holiday concert. Thus, the fancy dress and accoutrements.”

“Please tell me you’re not dating a Frog.”

“He’s not a Frog. He’s French. He’s a security specialist at the Embassy,” I squawked defensively.

“Cripes! You’re dating a French spook.” He snorted with disdain. “A Frog in spook clothing.”

“Philippe is not a spook. And stop calling him a Frog.”

He mumbled something that sounded like, “worthless, cheese-eating Frenchies.”

I flipped off the engine. The heat vents went silent and the dashboard turned dark. “What?”

“How old is he?”

“I don’t know. Mid to late thirties, I suppose. What does it matter?”

“He’s a spook.”

His attack on my dating life churned in my gut and sparked off long, suppressed anger. My temper flared and I fired back. “What does it matter who I date? You no longer have a say in my life. You made that clear two years ago when you called me a selfish bitch, along with some other choice words, and accused me of putting my career ahead of yours.”

“Eight hundred and eighty-four days.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s been eight hundred and eighty-four days, since we split. Two years, one hundred fifty-four days.”

Political Correctness Sucks Out The Fun

Fall is quite possibly my favorite time of year. I live on the East Coast and am privy to some of the most beautiful foliage variations our country provides. Right now my back yard is delivering a show of yellow, burnt orange, crimson and green leaves. The weather is breezy and cool, and except when it rains, the summer humidity has left, which means good hair days. Best of all, autumn is host to the most wonderful holiday ever. Nope, not that one with the Turkey – the one with the witches, ghosts, and goblins – Halloween!

This weekend I spent about four hours decorating my home with Halloween dÃ©cor. I have skulls, pumpkins, eyeballs, and decorative candle holders littering table tops and mantles. A motion sensing, insult comic, skeleton greets my guests by the front door with comments such as, “Nice Halloween mask. Oh! That’s your face.” Upon entering the kitchen a sound sensing spider drops down onto unsuspecting visitors – the children have named him Boris. A bubbling cauldron on the piano sits next to various potions and ingredients, such as Eye of Newt, and Elixir of Life. A hairy spider with a leg span as large as my kitchen table is crawling up the dining room ceiling. These are just a few of the decorations scattered through my house. Come Halloween, the yard will be turned into a spooky grave yard complete with creeping fog and eerie sound effects.

My children love October as much as I do, and as soon as school begins they start asking when the Halloween dÃ©cor will make its appearance, and making plans for their costumes, which invariably changes three or four times before the actual day.

Unfortunately, where I live, political correctness, has allowed the schools to suck the fun out of Halloween. Children, even elementary school age kids, are not allowed to wear costumes to school. Yup. That’s right, no costumes. Remember when we were kids and you excitedly woke up the morning of Halloween. You’d climb into your Princess Leia, or Tweedle Dee costume, race down stairs to scarf your breakfast, and after impatiently posing for photos, you’d hot foot it to the bus stop so you could compare what everyone was wearing. I remember it was a tradition to have the younger grades parade through the classrooms, showing off their plastic Strawberry Shortcake outfits.

This is just one of the many creatively “fun things” the schools have discarded over the years. I’ve heard a number of excuses as to why this is. Distraction, inappropriate costume choices, religious offensiveness, blah, blah, blah the litany of excuses goes on and on. Sadly, administrators have taken the joy right out of a day that used to be filled with excitement and fun. I mean, really, if you have to go to school on a holiday, such as Halloween, the least they could do is allow you to dress up as your favorite super hero. Right? After the first three years of banging my head against the brick wall of the school system administration, I gave up and have simply found as many outlets as I could for my kids to wear their costumes outside of school.

What happens where you live? Do schools still allow this little bit of childhood fun to continue?

Back to School

Hooray, it’s September and all the kiddies are back in school. Whew! What a long summer it seemed to be. Trips to the pool, a family beach vacation, visits to and with friends, movies, skating, bounce housing, so many activities to be organized while the kids were at home. I felt like a cruise director. Then Labor Day weekend arrived. The end was in sight. New backpacks hung on hooks by the door, overloaded grocery bags stuffed full of school supplies slumped in the front hall ready for the first day of school. My youngest was excited to ride the bus, my oldest – more jaded – walked around the house in a funk complaining that summer wasn’t long enough. Friends moaned about missing the lackadaisical summer days and whined about the busy school year full of extracurricular activities and homework ahead.

Not me. I counted down the days, hours-minutes until Tuesday morning. Up early, bright-eyed and bushy tailed I welcomed school day. I packed lunches for both the kids, fed them a delicious and nutritious breakfast, double checked the back packs and drilled the youngest on his bus number. I walked around house singing the Andy William’s Christmas song; It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. I was excited to have a whole day to myself. The first day I’d have to get my work done without juggling whiny, hungry, bored kids. I had all sorts of plans (only half of which were accomplished). Then the bus came, I waved my kids goodbye, got in my car and followed the bus to school so I could get photos of the kids getting off the bus and walk them to class. I said my final goodbyes and wandered to the cafeteria where the school’s PTO hosted a “Boohoo-Woohoo Tea.” A place where parents could meet other parents, grab a cup of coffee, and commiserate or celebrate over the start of school. I chatted with friends, had a bite to eat, then it was over and I returned to my silent home.

Shockingly, I actually missed my kids. Yes, I started working on edits for an upcoming publication, and began writing my next manuscript in blessed silence. I didn’t have to stop to feed them in the middle of the day, or organize an outing, or break up a fight. But, still I found myself a little teary-eyed over the loss of my rowdy, bickering kids. I’d been one of those moms dancing around, anxious for the new school year to start, yet when it actually came to pass, my feelings could only be described as…bereft.

Luckily, that only lasted for a few days. Now we’re starting week two and we’ve gotten into our routine. So far, the kids are cooperative in the morning. I’m getting to the gym on a regular basis, and work is moving along at a good clip, although not as quickly as I’d originally expected. (Isn’t that always the way?)

So what about you? Do you have kids heading back to school? What were your feelings about the return to a routine? Did you start something new in your life? Perhaps you’re heading back to school yourself? Are you a Boohoo or Woohoo parent when it comes to the new school year?

Left Behind

The next few days will be sad, teary-eyed ones for me. Why? Because it’s summer time and I live in a transient area filled with military and state department families who are constantly on the move. I’ve been living in Washington, D.C. suburbs since seventh grade. You would have thought by now I’d be used to the moving, and in a way I am. I’ve gotten used to every year a friend here or there will move away. However, this year is hitting me hard, due to the fact I’m experiencing the biggest loss of friends, as are my children. Four families we are close to are moving away. Two are heading to the “left coast” i.e. California, one is going as far flung as Japan, and the fourth is heading south about three hours away. My oldest and youngest are each losing two friends. In addition to losing good friends that I call upon for last minute favors, to pick up my kid, or grab a coffee with, my husband and I are also losing two favored baby sitters. For those of you with kids, you know how difficult it can be to find a new sitter. All the families are in different services, and two own homes here and feel they may return in three to four years. So, there is hope we will see them again and pick up where we left off.

Due to the location I live, this cycle will continue. My child’s elementary school announced last year that it had the most military families of any school in the county. Making it difficult for the administration to plan from year to year since it usually isn’t until September, when school begins, that they know how many children will be in each classroom; sometimes leading to overcrowded or too few students in classrooms. On my street of about a dozen houses three are rental units owned by military and generally rented to military. One family a few doors down is retiring from the military this year and, to my relief, plan to stay in their home.

As stressful and difficult as it is to move, (trust me I understand, I’d rather gnaw off my left arm than move) sometimes I think it’s worse being left behind. Military and State Department folks get the adventure of learning a new place, making new friends, and experiencing new cultures. Military wives living on base tend to form support networks, so it can be easier to fit in to a new situation. Whereas, those of us left behind have no new adventures, we just search to fill the void. Those voids are often never fully filled if the friends that have left were close ones. My sadness is compounded as I watch my children realize their good buddies will not be here over the summer to play at the pool, or join at the local bounce house, or have a simple play date. They too search to fill the void, although I know, come fall, there will be new classmates and friendships will blossom. As I’m not in school, new chums will not be as easy to come by.

A girlfriend of mine, let’s call her Kay, lived a few doors up the street. She once told me about an abrupt conversation she had at a cocktail party. Kay was introduced to the woman who lived directly – I mean DIRECTLY – across the street. Once the across the street neighbor found out her husband was military she told Kay they couldn’t be friends because she’d be moving away soon. Kay and I laughed over the slight a number of times. Indeed the neighbor simply ignored Kay, no courteous waves from the car or acknowledgments from the yard. The short-sighted neighbor missed out on five years of good times with Kay, who has moved away but still returns to the area almost quarterly. On the other hand, I understand where the abrupt neighbor was coming from. My heart sinks a little every time I fall into a friendship with a military wife, knowing, down the road, I will be feeling as I do today – sad and a bit weepy having to say good-bye to another good family as they load up the minivan and trundle on to their next adventure.

Mmmmm…Doughnuts…

Today I am in hog heaven because it is National Doughnut Day. Where else but America would we create a day for the exalted Doughnut? According to Wikipedia – “National Doughnut Day is on the first Friday of June each year, succeeding the Doughnut Day event created by The Salvation Army in 1938 to honor the women who served doughnuts to soldiers during World War I.” According to doughnut history, in 1920 Adoph Levitt, a refugee from czarist Russia, invented the first doughnut machine. And by 1934, at the World’s Fair in Chicago, doughnuts were billed as “the hit food of the Century of Progress.” Legend says that dunking doughnuts first became a trend when actress Mae Murray accidentally dropped a doughnut in her coffee one day at Lindy’s Deli on Broadway. In the 1934 film It Happened One Night newspaperman Clark Gable teaches young runaway heiress Claudette Colbert how to dunk. In 1937 a popular song proclaimed that you can live on coffee and doughnuts if “you’re in love.”

What’s even better than celebrating the lard-fried, finger-licking, mouth-melting, doughy goodness? The fact that major franchises began giving out their calorie-laden, morning breakfast confections to the general public back in 2009. Today they are doing it again! Yes, you heard right. Stop by Krispy Kreme to receive a free doughnut, no purchase necessary. (I’ve provided the link so you can locate the store closest to you and drive there now!) No Krispy Kreme? No worries, you can swing into your local Dunkin’ Donuts and get a free doughnut with purchase of a drink. If you don’t have either one of these two shops in your area, check your neighborhood doughnut peddlers to see if they are participating in the madness. Aren’t you excited? I am.

My love affair with the doughnut goes back to the time of childhood, when every so often my father would make a doughnut run on Sunday morning to the local Winchell’s, and come home with a dozen assorted kinds – crÃ¨me filled, jelly filled, bear claws, chocolate sprinkled with coconut, pink frosted sprinkled, powder-sugar, the list goes on and on. (Pardon me, while I wipe the drool off my keyboard.) It didn’t matter what kind, I wasn’t picky. I’d stand in my pajamas, at the front door, hopping from foot to foot as I waited impatiently for the yumminess to arrive. Attacking my father as he came through the front door, I’d snatch the bag and race into the kitchen to place the marvelous O’s on the table. My adoration for doughnuts could be comparable to the level of Homer Simpson’s.

The affair continues today and my love of doughnuts has been passed along to my children. Our donut of choice comes from Shopper’s Food. A local grocery store? That’s right. Not the doughnut shop. Our local grocery store supplies us with a treat they label the COLOSSAL DONUT. It is a drool-worthy lump of fat of epic proportions, and they are my family’s favorite brand. Homer Simpson would be in ecstasy and bypass his precious Lard Lad Donuts for the Colossal Donut. If you have a Shopper’s Food in your area I recommend you try one. (Not today. They aren’t free today. Go next weekend.)

Well, I could write more but-.it’s getting late… I must dash to my own Dunkin’ Donuts to get my free one before they run out! Happy Doughnut hunting.

Make Him an Offer He Can’t Refuse

According to my husband, in the past two weeks, my education has become complete. You see, unbeknownst to me, two weeks ago my “movie education” was sadly lacking. Now I am complete. Why? I have just finished watching The Godfather – the entire three part saga, based on Mario Puzo’s mafia novel. Yes, I admit, in my forty years I’d never watched The Godfather trilogy. After completing the Corleone narrative, I can see why it is lauded as one of the best cinematic stories in movie history. And, why it has become a mainstream in our pop culture.

If not for The Godfather would we have had The Sopranos? Or Fat Tony on the Simpsons? Analyze This or That? Countless spoofs and references have been made on television and in movies. From such high ranking shows like Law & Order and NCIS to Saturday Night Live. If you type in “Godfather spoofs” on You Tube, you receive over 51,000 results. I finally understand the full humor of Billy Crystal’s dream sequence in Analyze This. He dreams he is Vito Corleone getting shot in the middle of the street, and Robert De Niro plays the impotent Fredo. Even as recently as this year, The Godfather was referenced in the popular comedy Modern Family, when an enemy of Luke’s wakes up next to a stuffed zebra head. You’ll also find Godfather references on the stage. There’s a one man play called The Godfadda Workout, where a guy acts all the parts, both men and women.

Since I don’t live in a hole, prior to viewing the complete saga, I knew many of the famous Godfather lines and references. Like many who haven’t seen the movies, I may not have known which character to have attributed them to, but I’ve been known to throw some of them out on occasion. One of my favorites is Pacino’s, “Just when I think I’m out-they pull me back in.” Other favorites include:

“I’m gonna make him an offer he can’t refuse.”
“It’s not personal, it’s business.”
“Luca Brazzi sleeps with the fishes.”
“Leave the gun, take the cannoli.”
“Go to the mattresses.”

What surprised me most, was the incredible diversity of the cast, a bunch of young whipper snappers barely known, playing against Hollywood icons. I knew Brando played the Don, and that Pacino and De Niro were in the films, but that was about it. I didn’t realize the cast was as far reaching to include the likes of Duvall, Keaton, Caan, Kirby, Vagoda, and other movie legends, too many to list. In the opening party scene of the first film, I leaned over to my husband and naively asked, “Who’s playing Michael?” He looked at me like I’d grown a second head. “That’s Pacino, honey.” “Seriously?” “Seriously.” In the first film, Pacino’s voice was young and untried. It deepened to a man’s voice by the second, and changed again to a gravelly smoker’s voice by the third. It’s the reason I didn’t recognize it initially. The gravelly smoker’s voice and craggy face I knew from today, was unrecognizable to me in handsome young Michael’s face.

The Godfather is widely recognized as the quintessential MOB movie that changed the history of how modern audiences view organized crime, and how mafia movies are formulated. The compelling story has tentacled its way into modern culture. Did Coppola realize, in 1972, the impact his movie would have on generations of movie goers and TV watchers? Perhaps he got a hint when it won three Oscars for the first, and six for the second movie. The third film was nominated for seven Academy Awards, but won none of them. And though many people poo-poo the third film, I found it an exceptional wrap up of the life of Michael Corleone. A man initially estranged from the “family business,” who becomes one of the most despicably ruthless MOB bosses ever. A man who struggles to keep his family, and those he loves, in his sphere of influence, and in the end alienates all of them and dies alone. Neither murdered by his enemies, nor surrounded by what’s left of his family. A fitting end for a fascinating but merciless character?

I’m glad my cinematic education is complete. Now, I can fully appreciate Godfather references and be a part of those in the know. Tell me, what’s your favorite Godfather line? Is there a scene that sticks in your mind? Even if you haven’t seen the movie, do you understand the references? Do you think it’s one of the best sagas ever made?

The Return of Color

Spring is in the air. Flowers are blooming, petite emerald leaves are filling the trees, and the grass is turning from brown to green. Color has arrived, not only in nature, but in the stores as well. That’s right, this year color is in. Bright colors that we haven’t seen since the 80’s are back. Fuchsias, electric blues, turquoise, and sunny yellows line the shelves and racks of department stores. Polka dots and stripes are in and olive drab is O-U-T. We’re seeing these beautiful colors everywhere, from shoes to nail polish to throw pillows. I for one am thrilled with all the color. Hello amethyst, good bye beige.

Are you afraid of color? Don’t be. Welcome it, and identify the shades that can be worked into your wardrobe. Pair a bright green silk top with an electric blue pencil skirt, or a white blouse with red capris. Beware that not every shade will work for you. There are a number of hues along the color spectrum. It’s simply a matter of identifying what enhances your hair, eye and skin coloring. The easiest way to identify colors that look good or bad, is to hold them just under your chin while looking in the mirror, and see how your coloring reacts. For instance lime green and most yellows don’t work for me. They turn my complexion sallow. However, electric blue brings out my eyes and make my complexion seem brighter by comparison. Take the time to test this out under both florescent changing room lights, as well as natural light.

Washingtonians, I beg you, put down the conservative black you determinedly wear to work. Put away the greys, which fade into the stone buildings lining the DC streets, and embrace the return of color. Washington is a town slow to embrace new fashion trends. In DC worker bees trudge around in brown suits and taupe shoes – running the country and playing politics. Don’t be the town fashion forgot. Step outside your comfort zone and purchase those melon pumps you’ve been eyeing since March. Pair them with some chunky jewelry and a new periwinkle handbag. You’ll feel perkier and look fresher if you bring a bit of spring into the florescent lights of your neutral beige office.

Bring color into your life, and you will soon find your life full of cheer. You’ll walk with a spring in your step and compliments will abound. Just as warm days pull us outdoors, color can enhance our mood, which increases endorphins. Color = Happy. Start the day right. Put down the tan dress and pull out the cobalt one – and while you’re at it, slip on some sassy red sandals! Step out with pride. Step out with style. Celebrate spring and rejoice with color.

Ahhh…The Joys of Ageing

This past year I turned 40. Yup, that’s right I admit to the “F” word. There are some definite plusses to ageing. Such as, wisdom, confidence and the ability to get exactly what you want from the United ticketing agent to your cell phone provider. However, I’ve recently become aware of some unexpected joys I didn’t notice in my thirties, and decided to compile a Top 20 List. Some of these delights apply to me, others were provided by my generous Facebook buddies, and are probably pleasures I have to look forward too.

For those of you within a couple years of 40, you might be able to identify with a few. Those over 40, you’ve probably traveled through these thrills and are onto other fun life changing activities. As a Facebook friend said – “Want to know what happens in your 50s? Nah, I’ll let it be a surprise.” For those of you significantly younger than 40, take note – because you, too, will someday turn 40.

You know you’re in your 40’s when…..

You spend half an hour at the drug store comparing wrinkle creams.
You realize the consistent pain in your thumb/hip/knee isn’t just sore muscles. It’s the beginning of arthritis. Now you understand the Aleve commercials. “All day long. All day strong.”
The kid at the grocery store calls you ma’am, and no longer asks to see your ID.
You get up after a movie and your stiff knees crack and creak like Orville Reddenbacher’s popcorn.
Things that used to be perky now sag, and you look for bras that “provide lift and support.”
Your hands no longer look like they did when you were 20, they look your age.
The last time you shopped for glasses it wasn’t for the sun, but those half-moon specs.
You have researched Botox on the internet, and given it serious consideration.
You’ve increased your computer fonts and icons to LARGE.
Your diet no longer consists of a single multivitamin. It has increased to include things like D, B12, Gingko, or Fish Oil.
Your kids ask you what a cassette player is, and you can recall what your first cassette was.
You enter a store and can’t remember what you’re there for.
Grey hairs no longer come in one or two at a time, they’ve exponentially exploded all over your head.
Your favorite movies as a kid are now being remade, only now they call it “rebooted.” E.g. Footloose, Batman, Total Recall
As you walk through Macy’s the sample ladies hone in on you and press packets of anti-ageing/wrinkle creams into your hand.
If you have to enter your birthdate online it takes a looooong time to scroll down to find it.
You attended an 80’s cover band concert and could sing along with every song.
Unless you’re perfectly toned, you’ve developed “batwings.”
Your kids can’t believe that you lived in a time period when households didn’t have computers, much less cell phones, tablets, and iPods.
Sporadically, you wake up sweating in the middle night, or rooms suddenly get steamy. You ask those around you, “is it hot in here?” and they shake their heads. Welcome to perimenopause.

Valentine’s Day – Romantic Fantasy for Couples or Torturous Day for Singletons?

It’s February 14 and today I’m writing about, what else…Valentine’s Day. Is this a day you look forward to as soon as New Year’s passes? Do you decorate your home with red hearts and pink cupids? Do you buy diaphanous lingerie, and look forward to exchanging flowers, cards & chocolates with your sweetheart? Or, do you dread its arrival like a root canal? Do you ignore the pre-Valentine hype, and wear stark black in revolt against the card makers and florists, and go out with your singleton friends to mock coupledom? Do you feel this holiday was created to personally torture you? According to Wikipedia “the day was first associated with romantic love in the High Middle Ages. By the 15th century, it had evolved into an occasion in which lovers expressed their love for each other by presenting flowers, offering confectionery, and sending greeting cards (known as “valentines“).”

My feelings about Valentine’s Day could best be described as mixed. It goes back to junior high, at a time when it was no longer mandatory to pass out cheap 2X3 inch cards to an entire classroom full of red, heart–decorated, tissue boxes. A time when hormones raged rampantly and your self-esteem fluctuated by the hour. When Valentine’s Day arrived in junior high, if you didn’t have a sweetheart you tortuously watched other girls carry around red flowers, cuddly stuffed animals, or heart shaped balloons. Your eyes followed those balloons as they floated down the hall behind the lucky teenager. Needless to say there were a number of Valentine Day’s when I was relegated to “envious girl, pretending not to care.”

During high school, if you planned ahead, you and some of your other singleton girlfriends would buy each other white “friend” flowers or balloons just so you, too, could receive a delivery during fifth period. There were years I had a sweetheart in the pocket. Oh, the joy of joys, for then I was the girl to envy. I remember one high school boyfriend gave me a small heart with a teeny tiny ruby in it. A very generous gift and one, I’m sure, I brazenly flaunted. I still have that petite heart, and occasionally I wear it with three differing sized hearts that I have since received over the Valentine years.

Valentine’s Day in college came and went, similar to high school, sometimes single, sometimes coupled. College seemed to be a little less stressful as a singleton. You didn’t have a delivery boys interrupting English 101, or biology lab, and at my university if you tried walking across campus with a surfeit of balloons in February, you’d blow away like Mary Poppins. One year, as a college singleton, I was so tuned out to the Valentine hype that a girlfriend and I went to a movie, (aptly named Boys on the Side) and stopped at an overflowing restaurant for dinner. “It’s a Wednesday night, why is it so full?” We asked each other. As we bellied up to the bar the hanging hearts and pink balloons clued us in. “Doh! It’s Valentine’s Day!”

One memory remains constant through those tumultuous, romantically challenged years; every February 14^th I would come down for breakfast to find a card and small heart-shaped box full of gooey chocolates. My wonderful parents always made my sister and I feel special and loved on the day. During college I looked forward to receiving a Valentine care package from Mom and Dad. Even today I still receive a Valentine card from my parents letting me know they love me.

I’ll be celebrating my fourteenth wedding anniversary this year, so I’ve been part of a couple over fifteen Valentine’s Days. My mother’s tradition carries on in my household; every February 14^th I provide heart covered cards with silly sayings, and boxes of chocolates for my children, and my husband. However, even though I’m coupled up, and my husband always provides beautiful flowers, chocolates and occasionally jewelry, my emotions about the holiday can still be described as mixed.

I kvetch over the fact that it’s such a hassle to have one more holiday for which I have to buy stuff! I think to myself – it’s just scheme, between Hallmark and Flowers.com, to jack up their prices so they can laugh all the way to the bank at the poor schmucks who buy into this glorified cherub’s holiday. Chocolates flood the stores at a time while I’m invariably still dieting, to remove the weight I gained during the Christmas Holidays. There have been years I’ve gloomily told my husband, “Don’t buy me chocolate.” Attaining a table at a restaurant on V. Day can be akin to getting into a Walmart on Black Friday at two in the morning. Moreover, once you have children, finding a teen reliable enough to commit to babysitting, and one who won’t back out if she gets a better offer from her own boyfriend, can be a challenge unto itself.

On the other hand, every year my heart lights up when my husband arrives home, bearing an aromatic bouquet of flowers and a big, sappy card. In the morning my kids excitedly produce homemade cards written in an unsteady hand and still tacky with glue, to my delight. And, though my youngest can’t read yet, he is delighted with the cheap little Spider Man and Barbie valentines given to him by his preschool friends. He carries them around for weeks. So, as much as I complain about the stress and commercialism of Valentine’s Day, I don’t think I’m quite willing to give up on cupid’s holiday.

Take heart singleton’s, your day will come. If you’re unconnected this Valentine’s Day get your girlfriends together, crack open a bottle of your favorite wine, and watch movies that glorify strength of single women, such as The First Wives Club, Beaches, or even Boys on the Side. Leave the romance to the couples, and enjoy the freedom of being single.