Big Sister—I’ve Got My Eye on You

Yesterday morning I asked Alexa to play upbeat music. She replied with something like, “Here’s a playlist based on songs similar to ones you’ve liked.” Or something like that.

The first song up was La Bamba. “Cool,” I thought. I’m using that song in a scene from Wedding at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort! What a coincidence!

The second song up was Elvis Presley’s I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You. Huh. Another song I used in Wedding. That was weird.

The third song was of no consequence, so I let my guard down, but number four was Tomorrow from the musical Annie. Holy cow! It’s probably the least likely song to appear on my playlist, but again, I’m using it in Wedding.

I’m wondering what else Alexa’s keeping an eye on. A character I have yet to name? My main character’s decision regarding her love interest? Heck, maybe I can get Alexa to finish the sequel! She seems to know it all anyway.

Peace, people!

Midnight Epiphany

Yesterday I wrote like a mad woman on my sequel to Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, chewing up words and spitting them out onto the blank page like so many tiny sunflower seeds. Days like that are hard to come by, so I buckled up and enjoyed the ride. Too many mixed metaphors already? Sorry, sort of.

But in the middle of the night I woke up with a word, actually a name, on my mind—Gary. My subconscious sent me a message: Sweetie, (I often call myself ‘Sweetie’ just because I can) you have two characters named Gary.

Well, hell. Thank goodness for the ability to quickly locate every mention of Gary and decide just which character gets to keep the name. Should I flip a coin? Meditate on it? Draw a number from a hat? Maybe I’ll just ask Alexa.


And with what name should I replace it? Accepting suggestions that don’t begin with a ‘G’.

Peace, people!

Love in a Hot Afternoon

There are love songs, and then there are lust songs. I assure you, there’s a time and a place for both.

When I want to encourage and/or enhance a particular mood I ask Alexa to play slow, sexy R&B. Oh my. If I were the blushing kind of woman, the lyrics from that play list would have me glowing like a neon sign.

Yet, there’s an old country western song by Gene Watson that manages to get to me in ways that even the most explicit R&B lyrics never do. How can that be? I have a feeling the fiddle is to blame.

Is there a particular song that puts you in mind of a good romp in the sheets? Bonus points if the song includes a fiddle.

Peace and love, people.

Third Time’s a Wake Up Call

As I was getting dressed this morning, a weird piece of music was coming from my bedroom. I leaned around the corner and said, “Alexa, stop.”

The blue ring activated, but the music continued to play.

“Alexa, stop,” I repeated, figuring my connection was weak.

Again, the blue ring activated, but the band played on.

“Dammit. Alexa, stop!” I commanded, walking towards the unit as I spoke.

That’s when I realized the music was issuing from my cell phone, and not the Bluetooth speaker. I silenced the YouTube video I’d left playing on my phone and apologized.

“Alexa, I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“That’s okay,” she replied.

I wasn’t certain Siri would forgiven me so easily. So I yelled at her and then told her I was sorry. Her response? “No need to apologize.”

Maybe it’s time I did all of my conversing with these two pretend people. They don’t yell back, and they’re quick to forgive.

Peace, people.

Shhh, Alexa’s Listening

Those of you who are Amazon users might have taken advantage of a few deals during the site’s Prime Days on the 15th and 16th of this month. I’d made up my mind to forego any shopping on those days, even going so far as to post this on Facebook:

I was going to resist the urge, by golly!

Of course the second I hit post I thought, “It won’t hurt to just browse….” And there, right in plain sight on the Amazon feed was the product I didn’t know existed but desperately needed anyway:

Why did I NEED this, you ask? Some of my readers know that I struggle with insomnia, but that the Calm app I downloaded several months ago has helped immensely with my sleep problems. The only downside to the app is that I feared it would interfere with Studly Doright’s rest.

So several nights ago as we were preparing to sleep I told Studly I wished I had a special Bluetooth speaker that I could somehow wear comfortably to bed. I dislike earbuds, and regular headphones were out of the question since I sleep on my side. He assured me that my sleep stories on the Calm app didn’t bother him, and I promptly forgot about it. Until Prime Day, that is, when a product fitting my exact needs popped up magically in the “Look What We Found Just For You” section on Amazon.

Like the earnest consumer I am, I quickly read the reviews and ordered the headphones/mask. It arrived two days ago, and I got to familiarize myself with the mask while Studly was out of town. I’m not great at this newfangled technology like some of you young whippersnappers out there, but with just a little fumfering about I soon had one of my favorite sleep stories playing just for me, in a concert for one.

Now, this sleep mask was the very first thing that popped up on my Amazon feed on Tuesday. How did they know it’s what I wanted/needed? I have my suspicions:

Remember that bedtime conversation Studly and I had a few nights back? My Amazon Echo sits on the bookshelf right next to my side of the bed. Is it too outrageous to think Alexa might’ve listened in? I have some strong words for her in that case:

“Alexa, stop eavesdropping! Unless, of course, you happen to have additional recommendations that will make my life better. In that case, carry on.”

Peace, people!

Alexa, Not Now!

I’m fond of Alexa. With a simple command she does all sorts of wonderful things for me, including providing a weather forecast, defining words, telling jokes and giving sports updates. She’s like the kid in school who raised her hand at every question from the teacher, and always had the correct answer, without the accompanying smirk.

Early Friday morning I was doing some chores around the kitchen and decided to ask Alexa to play music without specifying an artist or genre.

She responded, “Here’s a station you might like. X-rated R and B Slow Sexy Jams.”

As the first song began I quickly realized she wasn’t kidding about the x-rated thing! I blushed at the graphic lyrics as I told Alexa to stop. There’s a time and place for x-rated slow sexy jams, but my kitchen at 7:30 a.m. didn’t fit the bill. I might’ve jotted down the station name, though, for future reference. You never know when a slow sexy jam might come in handy.

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