It's Not Nice to Fool with Mother Nature ...

As I write this, the sky is gray and overcast. Rain is bucketing down from the heavens in a great, soaking deluge. Trees are bent in the wind--even the usually stoic trees that do little more than sway in a storm. Palms (the notorious Drama Queens of the tree world) are whipping to and fro, dropping fronds all over the neighborhood.

It's not a bad storm as storms go, but it is the remnants of a hurricane that downgraded to a tropical storm, and like much of the country, we're feeling some of the fallout. A few people are without power and flood warnings are popping up all over the Internet and TV. Luckily no one I know has suffered any damage to their homes, but we'll have a bit of a mess to clean up wen the storm moves past us.

It's hard to imagine living in an area hit by a storm of a larger magnitude. I've lived through killer hailstorms in Montana, storms that delivered hailstones the size of golf balls. I've lived through Rocky Mountain snowstorms that have snapped tree limbs and taken out electric lines, leaving us without electricity and heat for days. As a kid, I learned to judge the look of the sky, and I knew to run home without stopping when the clouds turned a certain color.

Somehow, the idea of a hurricane is different to me. Worse, somehow.

Maybe it's the wind. Maybe it's the thought of seeing everything covered with water. The idea of digging out from under the mud. The stink of the mold. I'm fascinated by water, but I'm also a little frightened by it. I never lose sight of the fact that if Mother Nature gets a bug up her nose, I could be snapped like a twig.

The truth is, I'm a little frightened by Mother Nature in general. I was raised to appreciate nature, but to never underestimate it. Wild animals are not predictable. The weather is much stronger than I am. And there are very few arguments with nature that I can hope to win.

But that doesn't seem to be the prevalent opinion. Ever since I was a kid, I've been shocked by the number of people who visit someplace like Yellowstone National Park and act as if they're inside a Disney theme park.

How does someone grow up in this world and be so supremely unaware that man is nothing but a speck on the planet? We might have brain power on our side, but in a battle of strength, we're never going to win. I've watched idiots approaching herds of wild bison, thinking, I guess, that the bison are tame and trained. Disneyfied.

I've seen parents posing small children in front of wild moose, thinking they're going to get a terrific picture. I've seen people wander off the trails onto the thin crust of earth surrounding the geysers, so supremely certain that they matter, in some way, to the grand scheme of the universe they can't conceive of anything bad happening to them.

Every year or two, we hear reports of someone being attacked by some animal or falling through that crust of earth and being severely burned--and that's if they're lucky, or unlucky, enough to survive. And while there's a human part of me that grieves for their families, I'm also irritated by the idiot who put their kid in harm's way, who left food lying out to attract the animals, or who stepped off the clearly marked path and ignored the warning signs.

I feel the same thing for those people in the mandatory evacuation areas, who chose to ignore the warnings to evacuate. They wouldn't bother me if they didn't and then put the Coast Guard and other volunteers in danger when they cried for help. It's not about being "brave," it's about being smart. I have to wonder what part of "certain death" they found so difficult to understand. Did they all die? No, but that's not the point. The point is that if you survive a face-to-face battle with Mother Nature, it's because she spared you, not because you won.

Two Things

What are the two things everybody needs to know about your job? Interesting question. I'll play along.

The two things everybody needs to know about my job are:

1. It's much harder than it looks. In fact, this is the hardest work I've ever done. It's also the most rewarding, but that leans dangerously close to being the second thing, and I'm not sure I want to go there.

2. Authors don't get paid from the sale of used books, or from the downloading of bootlegged copies of books on the internet, or from sales of books on eBay (which, you know, are mostly used), or for the sale of stripped books (selling these is illegal anyway, but they show up with alarming regularity, so I thought I'd mention them.)

 Authors, in fact, don't get paid for much of anything, with the notable exception of a few cents on the original sale of each copy of their books. Any advances they may have received are exactly that -- advances. Not bonuses, not additional money, but an advance against payment the publisher expects to be coming. Some authors agree to contracts that don't incude advances. Assuming the author has received an advance, the author now has to sell X number of books to loyal readers before the author gets any additional money from the publisher. So while I think most of us understand all about the lack of money and either not being able to or not wanting to spend $7.99 for something you're just going to read and then toss, we hope that all of you understand that while picking up a used book is a whole lot easier on your wallet, it's not so kind to ours.

There is an argument to be made, however, that the circulation of used books builds readership, and that's our ultimate goal, right? Word of mouth is always a good thing. So if you've read one of my books and want to pass it along to a friend, I say go for it! Just please keep in mind that authors don't get paid every time somebody opens a book they've written.

Most importantly, please remember that if you find a free download of someone's book on the internet (other than respected book stores where the author may have opted to give the book away for a certain amount of time) chances are the book has been uploaded there illegally. Please don't encourage people to do this. Don't download from pirate sites!

photo credit: A book is a book via photopin (license)

Discovering Parks & Recreation

Let me begin by saying that I've never been a fan of Amy Poehler, so when my daughter encouraged me to give Poehler's new series, Parks and Recreation, a try, I was hesitant. I think I have a pretty good sense of humor, but I prefer intelligent humor to slapstick or physical comedy. Not that I don't find the occasional pratfall humorous. I'm not a comedy snob. But the universal appeal of fart jokes is lost on me.

Still, my kid's a pretty smart cookie, so if she liked it, I figured maybe I should give it a try. I don't like voicing my opinion about something when I know absolutely nothing about it. You'll never catch me marching on the library in an effort to ban a book just because somebody's mom got offended by it. So if I'm gonna tell my kid that I don't like her show, I have to watch it first.

The other day, while sitting with a couple of sick grand-kids, I queued up Season One on Daughter's Netflix account and dove in.

Have to admit, I was pleasantly surprised. Poehler's character is actually pretty endearing, and the ensemble cast is great. I'll even admit to some laugh-out-loud moments in almost every episode. Having wound my way through the six episodes in season one, I queued up season two the next time I watched the kids.

Too many comedy series start off with a bang and then fizzle out. Some of my favorites have lost me after half a dozen episodes. I'll admit that I'm a little surprised that Parks and Recreation is getting better with age. The character development is extremely well done, changing my opinion of this character or that with something as subtle as a look. The humor is intelligent --most of the time -- but there are plenty of just plain silly moments, too.

I've seen about half of the second season, so if you're a fan of the show, please don't post any spoilers, but do share if there's a show you like that you thought you wouldn't!

Everything is Amazing, Nobody is Happy

I've been the world's worst blogger lately, and I promise to catch up soon with a real entry -- but I had to share this video a friend sent to me this morning.

I Hate Windows Vista

** Note: I originally wrote this post on Thursday, but then my computer shut down mid-post, and I thought I'd lost it. I just found it buried deep in a weird folder while preparing to restore my computer to its factory settings in the hope that I can finally resolve this problem I'm having.

--- --- --- --- --- --- ---

I don't often lose my temper, but I lost it today and I lost it big. A year or so ago, I bought a new laptop computer after my old one crashed and burned. My new computer came loaded with Windows Vista, and my life took a downward turn the minute I turned the stupid thing on.

My day started out normally enough -- until the computer crashed and shut down four times in a row while I was in the middle of a document that I had to have finished early this morning. This would have been frustrating enough, but since the day I bought my computer, Windows Vista has systematically been destroying all of the other programs on my computer.

The first casualty was Internet Explorer. Microsoft Tech Support was spectacularly unhelpful, blaming everyone and everything from George W. Bush to my granddaughter for their faulty program. I limped along without IE for a while, contenting myself with Mozilla Firefox instead.

Then Microsoft Outlook started acting up. I uninstalled and reinstalled several times, to no avail. Outlook soon went the way of Internet Explorer. What I find most interesting is that Windows Vista can't even work with other Microsoft programs.

Then Firefox began to act up, and MSN explorer soon followed. Like I said, one by one, Windows Vista is exploding all of my other software, and I'm quickly losing my temper.

Today, on my fifth (no exaggeration) Tech Support call of since morning (I logged more than 8 hours talking with folks from India today) I finally lost it. The "helpful" tech support rep from Microsoft's Windows XP division decided all on his own that I was an idiot and began speaking to me in much the same tone one might use with a particularly dim-witted dog.

He started telling me that I didn't understand Microsoft's licensing procedure. Well, buddy, I do understand Microsoft's licensing procedure. I understand all about OEM licensing and all that. But would he let me tell him he could skip that part of his canned speech? No, he would not. In fact, he didn't let me get more than two words out before he cut me off and told me I didn't understand.

I would have asked how he knew I didn't understand since he wasn't listening to a d**n thing I was saying, but I couldn't get the question out before he cut me off. In the end, I did what he was probably trying to get me to do all along. I hung up in frustration. Of course, I managed to use my best raunchy sailor language right before signing off, but I doubt the tech support guy stopped talking long enough to fully appreciate my talents.

I tell you, it's almost enough to drive a person to ... well ... murder!

The Future of Publishing

I read a blog post by Mark Tavani, Senior Editor at Random House today, and I was interested in his take on the current state of the industry, and also on the comments offered by other blog readers who got there before me.

Tavani suggests that the current shake-up has been caused by the build-up of past events, not necessarily by the current state of the economy. I agree with him completely, but then I don't even think the current economic was caused during the past 8 years alone. Events this big don't happen overnight, or even over the course of a decade. It takes a lot of screwing up over a very long period of time to create a mess this big, and we're being very short-sighted to try laying the blame for it at the door of any one administration.

I'm not saying the previous administration made it any better, I'm just saying they don't hold exclusive rights to the blame. But I digress ... Publishing.

Tavani also suggests that the current state of publishing might actually, eventually, in the long-run, produce positive results. I agree with this, too. Our society hasn't yet learned the art of hitting a happy medium and staying there. That's okay. Other societies have been exactly the same way, so it's just human nature. Society functions with huge pendulum swings, from one extreme to the other, passing through that happy, workable medium area for about five minutes once every century or so. Industry functions the way society does. We continually say, "if a little bit is good, a lot will be even better," and off we race to produce millions of the thing that was good, or new, or fresh, or innovative, or unique because God forbid we should allow anything to remain good, new, fresh, innovative and unique. If somebody is making money off it, we all have to chase after a piece of the pie -- present company excluded, of course. I would never suggest that anyone with the good sense to read my blog would be so crass.

So what do you think? Will the publishing industry survive today's economy combined with choices made years ago? Will books as we know them today cease to exist and be replaced by something else? I don't know about that one. I hope books as we know them never disappear. I love the feel of a book in my hands. It pleases me in a way no computer screen ever has.

I love the sound of pages turning, and I don't believe anyone could produce a satisfying electronic sound to take its place. I love bookmarks with beautiful pictures or thought-provoking quotes on them. Electronic bookmarks don't even come close. I love the smell of a book. I don't know about yours, but my computer does not have a pleasant smell. For as long as I've had a career as an author -- more than 15 years now -- people have been predicting the demise of the paper and leather book and the rise of the electronic one. I have yet to see anything that leads me to believe in either extreme.

Sure, electronic book sales are on the rise, but we're heading into our second decade of the soon-to-hit electronic book tsunami prediction, with little more than a few waves lapping on the shore. Some of my own books are produced in electronic format these days, and I think it's great. Frankly, I don't care what medium a person chooses for the stories s/he reads, as long as s/he's reading. I'd like to see us stop quibbling about the unimportant things that will have relatively little important impact on society and start focusing on the things that will actually make a difference -- like teaching our kids to love stories in whatever format they find most pleasant. Educated kids with broad vocabularies and vivid imaginations are our best hope for a bright future.

Ready, Set, Go!

Well, I finally finished the revisions on SUCKER PUNCH, and the book has gone into production, so now it's time to ask myself what's next. My other professional obligations are finally a thing of the past, which means I'll have a lot more time to write than I've had in the past two years. This is a really good thing, and I feel almost giddy with excitement when I contemplate all the time I'll have to devote to writing and research. My term officially ends at midnight tonight, and I feel like a runner standing on the starting block, waiting for the starter's pistol to go off. Endless possibilities and (finally!) enough energy to pursue them have me feeling like a kid before Christmas. Turning in SUCKER PUNCH completes my current contract with my publisher, so I'm crossing fingers that we'll go to contract on another book or two in the series. These are the first books I've ever written for which I've needed to know the title before I can write. I've heard of authors who work this way, but I've never been one of them -- until now. Both CANDY APPLE DEAD and GOODY GOODY GUNSHOTS popped into my head without much effort at all. CHOCOLATE DIPPED DEATH and PEPPERMINT TWISTED were both suggested by my publisher, and it took me for-flippin'-ever to come up with SUCKER PUNCH. So far, I've had no bursts of creative genius on a title for the prospective #6, but I guess that should be my first step. I've also been mulling over a few ideas for a possible second mystery series, but I don't have anything concrete yet. That's okay. Now that I know the phone won't ring and interrupt me mid-thought with some crisis that needs to be solved, and now that I have no valid reason to check my e-mail 100 times a day, I should be able to concentrate. At least, that's what I'm telling myself! I'll ... uh ... keep you posted.

What Harlan Ellison said ...

Give a Busy Person a Job ...

Maybe one of you can explain something to me. Why is it that the busier I am, the more I get done? Doesn't it seem like the opposite would be true? Shouldn't the opposite be true?

I have a deadline in less than two weeks, and no, I'm not ready to send the book to my editor yet. I have every intention of getting there, though. I just may run a bit short in the sleep department before I'm through.

A year ago, I agreed to teach an online class this month, which requires that I post two "lectures" every week and answer questions as they arise. There have been lots of questions this month, and I'm not the kind of teacher who answers briefly. I want to make sure I've explained myself clearly, so I tend .... I won't say I tend to ramble, but I do try to be thorough.

I've had some family issues to deal with. Nothing, thank God, having to do with my kids or the Incredible Miss Abigail, but still troublesome, and they've led to more phone calls in a day than I'm used to taking while I'm supposed to be working.

Two weeks ago, the galley proofs for PEPPERMINT TWISTED arrived on my doorstep with instructions to read the proofs carefully, check for typesetting errors, and return the package to my editor in NYC by last Friday.

I'm heavily involved in the administration of a non-profit organization, and the president is out of town this week, which means that in my spare time I've been drafting statements and approving things I generally don't get involved with on a daily basis.

So why is my writing humming along so well? Why can I write two chapters a day without really breaking a sweat (now that the cooler in my house is fixed and the temperature no longer hovers near 100 inside.) Why do I get so much more done when I have a lot to do?

This isn't the first time I've noticed this phenomenon at work. Years ago, while working at the Evil Day Job 50-60 hours a week, I consistently wrote 3-4 books every year. I was one of the most prolific authors I knew. I wrote through everything that came my way -- family issues, surgeries, moving, kid troubles -- and I never seem to have any real trouble getting a book done. That's not to say that my manuscripts always arrived sharp and crisp on the morning of my deadline, but I wasn't ever far off.

Then (joy of joys) I quit the Evil Day Job to write full time, and what happened? I suddenly developed "issues" that had never plagued me before. With all the time in the world to write, I suddenly found myself spending less and less time at it. A thousand excuses presented themselves every day and, unlike the excuses that came my way when I worked the EDJ, these suddenly seemed Too Important to Ignore.

Don't get me wrong ... I haven't been a complete slug since I quit the EDJ and became a fulltime writer. Every so often, a month like this one comes along and nudges me back on track. But what I don't understand is why it's so damn easy to slide off track again, and why I never feel myself sliding until I'm avoiding my work in progress to catalog my DVDs -- again.

During the past few weeks, I've been almost completely focused on finishing the fourth book in the candy shop series, so I haven't really lifted my head for much, except to moan about yet another day where the temperature soars over 100 degrees. One thing that has caught my attention, though, is the story of the trapped coal miners who are buried in the Crandall Canyon mine about 150 miles from my house. Six men have been missing since a mine cave-in for the past eleven days, and rescue efforts have met with one setback after another since the beginning. Tonight, they met with the biggest setback yet. Apparently, the mine experienced what's called a "bump" -- an explosion inside the mine where pressure relieves itself. Nine rescue workers were injured. One of those nine has now been reported dead. News crews cut into regular programming at about 7:30 tonight as ambulances and medical helicopters began arriving. As I write this, injured rescue workers are still being transported to hospitals in the area. My heart aches for the families and friends of the miners, for the whole close-knit community that has been affected by this mining disaster, and I watch the news, and I'm torn between natural human curiosity and the revulsion I feel when I listen to the news people and watch the footage on the TV. I was with my kids, standing on the lawn of my ex-husband's house while the paramedics tried to save his life. I know what an intensely private thing these kinds of things can be, and I am furious at the cameramen who are aiming their cameras through the windows of the ambulances so they can get the most exciting shot possible. I listen to news reporters speculating wildly about things they don't know, creating issues out of things that might mean absolutely nothing, and I want to knock some sense into them. Yeah, I know, the public's right to know and all that. But the public doesn't need to watch someone's loved one being given CPR as the ambulance flashes past. Isn't it enough to be told? Can't we allow those injured people some privacy? A hint of dignity? A little respect? And what does wild speculation have to do with the public's right to know? Do we really have to waste fifteen minutes or more of airtime wondering if that was a Colorado license plate and making up stories about what it might mean if it was? So, okay, it's not really about the public's right to know. I get that. I also get that it's about ratings, and scooping the other guy, and getting the biggest chunk of the advertising dollar. And I'm sure I'm just being a prude about it all. After all, I've now just learned that the Mayor of Price, Utah, was eating macaroni and cheese when tonight's disaster occurred, and that's something, I think we all needed to know.

Summertime

It's hot where I live. No, I'm not expecting sympathy. I've looked at the maps on the weather channel, and I realize that it's hot pretty much everywhere -- at least here in the States. It's just that I'm not a hot weather sort of gal. I don't do hot, at least not willingly, because I don't do it well. The first thing that goes is sleep. I'm a cool weather sleeper and I'm happiest when the room I'm sleeping in is almost uncomfortably cool for everyone else. Then I can burrow down under the covers, leaving my face exposed to the cool air, and boy! can I sleep then. When it's hot, and I've thrown myself across the bed without any covers (and don't you dare try to put that sheet over me if you value your life!) I don't sleep well. Lack of sleep inevitably makes me cranky. Add that to other cranky makers like the sudden death of my laptop, and I'm really not all that pleasant to be around. Not that I'm thoroughly unpleasant. I wouldn't want to leave you with the wrong impression. The dogs don't run and hide when I walk through the door or anything like that! It's just that I'm much happier as a creature of artificial comfort, and I'm always amazed when I meet someone who loves summer's heat. One of my closest friends lives on the other side of the state from me -- the southern end of the state, to be exact, where the temperatures routinely soar about 15 degrees warmer than they do here at my house. In January and February, I envy her, but by April, when she's already hitting 100 degree temps, I start to wonder why she doesn't just do the sensible thing and move to someplace cooler. That's my game plan, anyway. It's been 100, give or take a degree or two, since some time in June (feels like forever!) I want to move someplace where it never gets about 85. Maybe 80. And where cool breezes, either from the ocean or from a nearby canyon, keep the temperatures moderate. Someplace a little off the beaten path so I never have to deal with traffic snarls, but where the FedEx man still comes and I'm mere minutes away from whatever I might want from the city. Not that I'm picky or anything :)

Computer woes

Two days ago, I sent off the revised manuscript for PEPPERMINT TWISTED to my editor, and then I crashed. I'd spent the previous week in NYC, had a rough day of travel getting home, and got very little sleep while I was working on the revisions since I didn't get nearly as much work done on the manuscript while I was traveling as I'd hoped.

It looks like we're still on for a December 2007 release, but I'll let you all know if that changes. I'm delighted to report that we've also agreed to go to contract for at least two more in the candy shop series!

In the middle of doing revisions, I suddenly realized that my wireless network was doing weird things. Before I left home for NYC, the network was humming along just fine. I think it was working when I got home, but I can't remember for sure. I could access the internet from my laptop, but I'm accessing it now and the network is kaput. Or MIA, I'm not sure which.

I don't even know what happened. One day I booted up, and my computer told me it had discovered a new piece of equipment. I clicked on the pop-up bubble and discovered that my computer had found a new router. The one I've been using has disappeared from my laptop. I had the brilliant idea to delete the router and reboot to see what my computer could find, but the router won't allow me to delete it. I even carried my laptop up to my office and sat it on the desk a few inches from my router, but I still can't access my own network, and I'm so frustrated I could scream!

While in NYC, I hooked up to the hotel's wireless network for 24 hours, and now I'm wondering if that network overwrote something on my computer. Anybody out there know enough about wireless networks to offer any suggestions?

What's Up With David Caruso?

I watch plenty of television, but I have different tastes than a lot of people, I guess. Back in the 70s, everybody watched Dallas. I preferred Knots Landing. People raved about ER. I was busy watching Chicago Hope. Every woman of a certain age I've ever met was in love with Paul McCartney when she was a girl. I was gaga over George Harrison. The list goes on and on . . . and on.

Anyway. While CSI in its various forms has taken over the airwaves, as of yesterday afternoon, I still hadn't watched a single episode. But last night my daughter and son-in-law introduced me to CSI: Miami, and I have to say, I think they chose the wrong version of CSI to start me out with.

With apologies in advance to all you CSI: Miami fans out there, I'm still trying to figure out why people watch it. The plot wasn't bad. I was interested enough in the storyline to keep watching. Well, and I was holding my sleeping granddaughter, so that probably contributed to my reluctance to announce that "this is [beat, beat] the worst acting I've ever seen in my life," right before flinging myself out of the room. Okay, it's not really the worst acting I've ever seen. I could name a few other shows with much worse . . . but I'd be embarrassed to admit that I watch them.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. The first thing I noticed is that everyone -- and I mean everyone on the law enforcement side of the episode spoke in a hushed voice throughout the episode. It was so odd and unnatural and noticeable, I'm seriously wondering if there's a rule on set that no one can speak louder than David Caruso.

I spent the next few scenes wondering why Caruso wore that pinched gnome-like (strangely reminiscent of Jim Carrey as the Grinch) expression. Was he trying to be a Columbo-esque character? I still don't know if the expression is natural (in which case I apologize profusely) or acting.

But all of that paled after I saw Caruso deliver his first big one-liner. I don't remember what it was, and what he said isn't important. What is important is that he stood perpendicular to the camera, only the right side of his face exposed. The person he was supposed to be talking to supposedly stood where te camera was, while Caruso stared straight ahead. (If you're having trouble following, that means that Caruso is not even looking at the person he's talking to.)

The conversation went on for a couple of lines, and then Caruso delivered a zinging one-liner of some sort before throwing himself backwards out of the shot.

What made this particular episode weird is that he did that not once, not twice, not even three times -- but at least four times in the same episode, and it's possible he did it even more times than that. I don't remember. I think I began blocking them out part way through the show.

I mean, who does that? In real life, that is? Have you ever actually known someone who not only spent multiple conversations not looking at you, but who also repeatedly threw himself backwards to get out of the room? Since I've never watched Caruso in anything before, I'm not famliar with his acting style, so I'm not really pointing the finger at him for being a bad actor. Maybe he's being directed by a really bad director. I don't know. I just know that it was distracting enough to put me off CSI: Miami for good.

In honor of last night's experience, I share with you this video clip I found on YouTube this morning. Enjoy!

Senseless Musings on a Thursday Afternon

With 200 pages left to go, I gave up on reading The Chronicles of Narnia -- at least I gave up on reading it straight through to the end. 700-plus pages of children's adventures in a magical land might be fun, but not all at once.

To tell the truth, I was ready to put the book aside after the second book in the Chronicles. Trouble is, I'm reading it for my book club. We meet in another two weeks, and I'd kind of like to have the book finished before then. It makes the discussion more interesting if you've actually read the book. Not to mention the fact that having read the book makes it easier to voice an intelligent opinion. I spent quite a bit of time today trying to decide why I'm so ready to put the book aside and start on something else.

The writing is great. I enjoy C.S. Lewis's voice a lot, actually. It's easy to read and filled with humor. And it's not as if I never fantasized about castles and enchanted forests and the like when I was a girl. My childhood fantasy adventures weren't filled with wars and giants and swordplay, but they weren't Knight In Shining Armor Rescues Fair Maiden either. I guess they were somewhere in between.

But the point is, it's not the subject matter that has me setting the book aside, either. The truth is, I think I'm bored. Not that the books are boring. . . It's just that I think I'd like the books better if I didn't try to read all seven of them at once. I'm not one of those readers who can pick up an entire mystery series and read from first book to last without a break.

That shouldn't surprise me. I'm not one of those writers who can write the same type of book twice in a row, either. I need variety. Lots of it. Back in the olden days when I worked at another career, I needed variety in my work, too. Nothing made me crazier than to go to work and find the same old thing day after day. Luckily, that didn't happen very often, so I managed to hang around my last career for 15 years or so.

But if you want to make me absolutely nuts, just stick me in a room filing for 8 hours a day, or put me on an assembly line. Either of those jobs would do the trick, no questions asked. I'm just glad there are people who can do those jobs without losing their marbles; otherwise, the world would be a very sorry place, indeed. I'm just not sure what these things say about me.

Does it make me creative? Or do I just have the attention span of a gnat? I prefer the first explanation. I'd bet money my kids would vote for the second. But this is my blog, not theirs, and they don't get a vote here, so you know what that means. My choice it is! Of course, I'm not sure that really fits the current situation. Can I say that I'm too creative to finish reading The Chronicles of Narnia and keep a straight face? Or would it, perhaps, be more accurate to say that I've stopped reading for now because I have the attention span of a gnat?

 Hmmmm.... Yep. Too creative. Absolutely!

In Search of Excellence

So I watched the Emmy Awards last night -- not because I'm particularly fascinated by celebreties and their award shows, but because I was taping an episode of Big Brother 7 for my daughter and nothing else was on that I hadn't seen before. Plus, I was completely unmotivated to get up and look for the remote.

The fashions at award shows don't really interest me, either. First of all, you have a lot of unnaturally thin women walking around in clothes nobody would ever really wear anywhere. Second, even if the real women in the world had the money to buy those clothes, they're only made to look good on people with a body fat index in the negative numbers. And, of course, there's the price. Even the knock-offs that go on sale the next day are more money than I like to spend on clothes. I don't see the point, you know? Even if you have $67 Million moldering away in your bank account, why would anyone spend a hideously stupid amount of it on clothes? I don't know . . . maybe it's just me.

But anyway, the Emmys.

Yeah, I agree that the plane crash bit was in seriously bad taste, considering. Maybe somebody should have thought it through before airing it. Then again, if there hadn't been an opening, half the people blogging about the plane crash bit today would have complained that the Emmys were boring. It was a no-win situation if you ask me.

Conan could have explained that the opening had been ditched because of the crash in Kentucky, but that would only have started the mad search for copies of the ditched sequence. You know how we are out here in TV watching land. Tell us something exists that we're not allowed to see, and we'll make damn sure we see it anyway.

I was torn when it came to the Best Actor in a Comedy award, but it's the only award I really cared even a little bit about. I think Tony Shaloub is brilliant as Monk. I love the subtleties he puts into his performance, but I also think that Steve Carell is brilliant in "The Office." If Shaloub hadn't walked away with his third Emmy this year, I'd have been okay with Carell getting it.

Yeah, I liked the acceptance speech by the guy who listed the people he did not want to thank. Not thanking his former teacher was hilarious. I'm sure we all had a few teachers in the past who discouraged us from doing something. Not all of us get the chance to throw that discouragement back in the teacher’s face on national TV.

Okay, and I experienced a momentary disappointment when Keifer Sutherland walked away with the award I thought should have gone to Chris Meloni, but it was gone in a flash. I just don't get worked up over these things. Besides, I've had a soft spot for Keifer ever since my oldest daughter developed a raging crush on him back in the early days of his career. And I guess I did think that Jamie Presley should have won as best supporting actress in a comedy, but I can’t even remember this morning who actually did win.

I watched, but I guess I didn’t absorb a whole lot of what happened. I don't know when I stopped giving more than a flying hoot about award shows. When I was younger, I thought watching the Academy Awards show was pretty great. It was kind of a family event, as I recall. Maybe I'm just older and wiser now. Or maybe there are so many awards given out now, none of them mean much. 

Don't get me wrong -- I'm all for encouraging excellence, and I see absolutely nothing wrong with healthy competition. I'm not one of those people who thinks we should all receive awards just for existing. In my opinion, we spend too much time these days encouraging mediocrity.

I don't think the world will see great things in the future if none of today's kids are allowed to achieve greatness because we're so worried about hurting the other kid's feelings. But I digress. The point is that when you have 10 or 12 chances to be named as "best actor" for your role in a particular show or movie, isn’t the honor diluted a bit? That's my question of the day, I guess: Does it mean as much to be named "best" at anything when there are a handful of other "bests" running around at the same time?



Photo by Tomascz Szkopinski