Reporting for Sleep Monitor Duty

Y’all, I slept last night. I mean I really slept for the first time in weeks. It was the LAST thing I thought I’d be able to do with a danged monitoring device literally stuck to my forehead and tubes dangling from my nostrils.

Maybe that’s the key! Hook me up and watch me sleep.

Seriously curious as to what can be learned from last night’s adventure. In the meantime, I wish they’d let me keep the monitor one more night to see if last night’s performance could be replicated. Since we all know that’s not going to happen, maybe Studly Doright could rig something up to simulate the whole experience. I seem to remember a miner’s style flashlight among his tools, and right now, I’m up to the challenge of finding it.

It’s amazing what a good night of sleep can do for one’s mood. Watch out world!

Peace, people!

I Like Your Glasses

This morning I have an appointment to be fitted with a sleep monitor. I’ll wear it tonight to help determine if sleep apnea is the cause of my memory gaps/lapses.

I tried writing something for my next novel (FYI, book 6 in the Happy Valley series), but ended up just staring at a blank screen because last night was the third (or fourth) in a row of little to no sleep.

Finally I gave up and took myself for brunch at Canopy Roads Cafe on Apalachee Parkway in Tallahassee. The server was a bubbly twenty-something who took my order then said what I understood as “I like your glasses.”

Apparently that wasn’t what she said at all because when I thanked her she gave me an odd look. Now I have no idea what she said as she walked away. Maybe “I took some classes?” Or “I like big asses.” Who knows. Maybe the sleep doctor can offer a suggestion.

Peace, people!

Piped-In Music

Yesterday I attended a book signing. It was absolutely marvelous. My friend and fellow water aerobics enthusiast, Paula Walborsky, signed copies of her first book, Unpacking Paula, Volume One, at a local indie bookstore. Again, MARVELOUS. I can’t stress this enough.

Friends from every facet of Paula’s life showed up at My Favorite Books. Members of her family came all the way from Tennessee to Tallahassee to support her. Our water aerobics group, The Clownfish Asylum, was there in full force, including a surprise visit from a member who “escaped” from a hospital to be there. Tears were shed and shared. Dare I say it again? Marvelous.

I’m not sure how many books Paula sold, but I do know her husband made more than one trip to their car to fetch more copies. And then Paula read selected essays from her book and we laughed and cried and nodded along. As a former NPR commentator, Paula has that voice—calm and clear and measured. Everything mine is not.

But as she read, I found myself becoming annoyed at the piped-in music. Often, from my little corner, I couldn’t make out what Paula was saying because the music was a little too loud and it seemed to be emanating from the stack of books on the bookshelf where I’d placed my purse.

“Interesting place for a speaker,” I thought. “And it’s hidden cleverly. Not even any telltale wires.”

I contemplated finding a bookstore employee to have them turn the volume down or perhaps completely off. “That’s just what I’ll do!”

So I gathered my purse and walked down a side aisle. The music followed me. As I turned a corner, the music followed me. As I approached the counter, it followed me. And that’s when I knew that I was the source of the “piped-in” music.

Somehow I’d activated the sleep song track I have downloaded onto my phone, and it was providing background music for my friend’s event. My hope is that only a few folks in my immediate vicinity heard my musical accompaniment and were bothered by it.

And I’m so thankful the music I use as inspiration for writing steamy scenes wasn’t queued up. This might’ve been an entirely different kind of tale.

Paula’s book is available on Amazon, by the way. It’s, well, MARVELOUS!

Post Test

I’ve always been a great test taker. Give me an essay to write or a multiple choice question and I’ll probably ace that old test.

Yesterday I took a different kind of test—an assessment to measure my memory. It started out simple enough, and I’m proud to say that I could correctly identify a variety of common zoo animals. I also drew the clock as directed, but now I’m wondering if I mixed up the hour and minute hands. I was a little bit anxious, so it might’ve happened.

After a couple more questions, the doctor gave me a list of five words that I was to remember until she asked for them again. That one did not go well. I think when all was said and done I recalled three of the words on my own, and one with a hint. And for the record, my words were harder than Trump’s. 😂

I did well on repeating sentences word for word, as well as repeating a string of numbers. My favorite part of the test was getting to slap my knee every time I heard the letter “a” when a long string of letters was spoken. I felt a bit like a kindergartner. Slap, slap, slap,

There were a few physical assessments—pushing, pulling, walking across the floor heel-to-toe. I had trouble with the last one. My size eight feet didn’t like that task. If I’d been barefoot I could’ve done it.

At the end of the assessment the doctor asked a great many questions about my daily life and the incidents that had prompted me to schedule an appointment. Was I depressed? Did I get enough sleep? What meds do I take? Etc.

They’ve scheduled some bloodwork, an MRI, and an EEG to rule out any other issues, but I think overall I did okay on the tests I took yesterday. But who am I to say? If there’s was problem, I likely wouldn’t realize it. And that’s a bit scary.

Thanks to everyone who sent me good vibes!

Peace, people!

The Test

I have a test scheduled this morning. In fact, I’m here, thirty minutes early because I was afraid I’d get lost in the maze of hospital corridors. In some places, one must go down to go up, or maybe that’s only due to a screw up on my part.

My fingernails could use a trim. And some polish. That’s what I think as I sit waiting to be called back. They’re going to think I’m a doddering old lady. Maybe I won’t need the test to confirm it.

It’s a test of my memory, you see. Lately I’ve done a few things that have made me wonder. Made me nervous, in fact. So I scheduled a test with a neurologist.

And I haven’t known how to study for it. I thought of googling the Pythagorean theorem or the number of degrees in a triangle, but I doubt those questions will appear on this test. More’s the pity. I think I remember those well enough, even without google.

Peace, people.

Pinch Me

I published this piece less than a year ago when my first book, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort hit 500 reviews. Just recently, the book hit 1,000 reviews and now it’s at something like 1,040.

My husband, Studly Doright, reminded me of the angst I’d suffered wondering if it would ever get to 50 reviews. I do. Felt like it took forever, but those first fifty were really special. And I have many of my blog followers to thank for supporting me, for taking me to 50 and beyond.

Five Hundred?! About a week ago I realized that Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort was nearing five hundred reviews on Amazon, and I …

Pinch Me

Sock it to Me

My memory is going. I don’t have any measurable proof, at least not yet, but it’s something I fear. I’ve heard of people who’ve forgotten about stuff that happened ten minutes ago, yet can recall obscure knowledge they’d gained decades in their past.

Case in point: socks. I was sitting on the edge of my bed yesterday morning putting on my socks when the word “calcetines” popped into my head. Huh. Socks in Spanish. Where’d that come from?

But ask me what I had for dinner two hours ago. I can tell you one thing— it wasn’t calcetines.

Peace, people.

A Thousand!

My first novel, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, just gained its one thousandth review on Amazon. Even better, the book has managed to maintain a 4.5 rating.

It’s not a perfect book. I often tell people that I wrote it with my training wheels on. But I’ve been fortunate to find readers who’ve embraced my baby, warts and all.

I’m still learning. There are now four books in the Happy Valley series with another in the works. With each book I’ve learned something new, gotten better at the craft, but there’s still much to learn.

I appreciate everyone who’s come along on the journey—even those few reviewers who’ve been less than impressed have contributed to my growth and helped make each book better than the one before.

Tomorrow, Valentines Day, 2023, Mayhem will be featured as an Amazon Daily Deal for a mere $1.99 on Kindle. So, if you haven’t yet read it, it might be the perfect time. And if you do, I’d love your feedback.

Peace, people!

Eavesdropping for Fun and Profit

I have a tendency to eavesdrop. And then out myself by doing something stupid like letting people know I was listening in.

Earlier in the week I overheard a trio talking about the book clubs they belong to. They were sitting behind me at the coffee shop and even as I tried to talk myself out of giving them my card, I turned around and gave them my card, saying, “I’m so sorry for eavesdropping, but I’m an author and here are my books. Just in case, you know.”

They were so gracious, but I kept babbling, apologizing, and I’m certain my cards might’ve been used for kindling later that day.

Then this morning I was in a different coffee shop listening to the cutest college-aged couple play a game. One of their answers was so off base that I burst out laughing, Come on, cereal is NOT a soup, am I right?

I apologized, and they asked if I’d be a referee when they couldn’t agree on an answer. And that is a first for me. Maybe eavesdropping has finally paid off.

Peace, people!

Congressional Fashion

I’m not a fan of Kristen Sinema—the Democratic Senator from Arizona who skews more to the right than the left. She’s a DINO—Democrat In Name Only, like West Virginia’s Joe Manchin.

On Tuesday night, Sinema wore a bright yellow dress to the State of the Union address. It’s a dress I wouldn’t have worn, but she did and has been attacked by Democratic pundits for her choice.

That infuriates me.

Men in her position basically have two choices: a blue suit or a black suit and a tie that says “I’m in charge or send more money.” Whereas for women there awaits a minefield. Too colorful? You’re an attention whore. Too bland? You’re outdated, boring.

Attack Sinema all day long for abandoning her constituents in favor of accepting money from conservative special interest groups, but ignore what she’s wearing, That shouldn’t matter at all.

Peace, people.

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