Have you Seen Me?

Winners, winners, winners!

The winner of the pooping snowman, cards, and pen is Linda C. And because I'm in the giving spirit, I'm giving away another pooping snowman and it goes to Lucy. Then the winner of the book, cards, and pen is Pat L. Guys email me your snail mail addresses at christie (@) christie-craig.com

And please (for more prizes) everyone pop over to http://novelthoughts.wordpress.com/ and to read an epilogue of Divorced, Desperate and Dating, http://thewritersvineyard.com/


Where am I?

Wait. I don’t mean, me physically, I know where I am. I’m at my desk, wearing my “Don’t talk to me before my coffee” nightshirt and my Donald Duck house shoes. (Hey, I like my shoes.) Besides, I’m not so loony that I don’t know where I’m at. I know I told you about the voices, but forget about the voices. My question doesn’t have anything to do with my sanity--my question is about where my book, Divorced, Desperate and Dating is on the shelves.

Non-writers may not know this, but where you are (where your book is sold at) is important. Of course, we want to be in all the wonderful places. The more places the better. The airport is one prime place that comes to mind. (I’m still waiting to see someone reading my book on an airplane. I’ll probably get so excited I’ll kiss the person and be arrested for assault or something.) Of course, then there’s Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books-a-Million, Borders, Waldens, and a long list of grocery stores. Then there’s the drugstores. Someone once told me that when you hit the Walgreens, you know you’ve made it.

Ahh, but let me tell you, the Neiman Marcus of book spots is not the upscale shopping stores. Nope, it's the super discount stores that offer one-stop shopping. Why? Well, the most apparent reason is because of sales. Statistics seem to prove that people who shop for cleaning supplies, paint, foot massagers, motor oil, and teeth whitener also buy books. And hey, I’ll admit it, I do my share of one-stop shopping. Pop in, wave at the greeter, and go grab some extra-hold hairspray, a pack of band aids, a bit of Jenny Crusie, toilet paper (extra quilted), and some kitty litter, all the while wearing my duck house slippers. Okay, I haven’t ever really worn my duck slippers shopping, but I have accidentally worn two different shoes. Ahh, life at the Craig house.

Which brings me to my less apparent reason for wanting to be in these retail stores. I guess you could say, I’m a one-stop shopping kind of gal. Well, let's say I shop them a lot more than Neiman Marcus. Don’t get me wrong, at least once a year, I dress to the hilt and hit the Galleria for my Neiman fix. I’ve bought hats, French Perfume, and yes Gemma, I’ve even bought a pair of shoes on my annual up-town outing. However, for the everyday Craig merchandise, it’s me taking a quick run, dressed in sweats, no make-up, hair brushed, but not sprayed or styled, to pick up a list of very basic items. Items we use at the Craig house and I use in my books. And for those times, I hit the one-stop-shops.

Seriously, think about the various things I use as weapons, humor devices, or plot enhancers in my books. We’re talking: singing fish, toilet plungers, tampons, cast iron skillets, condoms, screwdrivers, cat food, and Vitamin C, and toilet tank lids. I'm using a toilet tank lid in the book I'm writing now. Seriously, can you imagine being in Neimans and walking up to a salesclerk and asking, “Excuse me, could you tell me what row I would find the singing fish on? How about the toilet plungers?”

Not so long ago I got an email from a fan telling me where she stumbbled across my book. Tina found a Craig novel for sale in an unusual spot. And because she wasn’t sure I’d believe her, she took a picture. Nope, it wasn’t the airport, or Neimans. She found Divorced, Desperate and Delicious at . . . Good Will.

Yup, Good Will. While I like the idea of being on everyone’s keeper shelf, something about being in Good Will speaks to me. Hey, doesn’t everyone say Good Will is the place to shop for real treasures? You might find a singing fish there and the money paid goes for a good cause. Plus, I figure I helped someone get a tax deduction. Now that just makes me feel all warm and cozy inside, sort of how those duck slippers make my feet feel.

Okay…so here’s what I’m wanting from ya’ll and here’s what I’m offering as this week’s prize. Remember the pooping Christmas Snowman I mentioned I’d be giving away? Yup, this is the week. I know all of you are jumping up and down. Don’t worry, he’s house trained. He’s a candy dispenser, and the black jelly beans come out his backside. I’ve even taken a picture of his backside. (I’ll bet this is the first time you’ve been mooned by a snowman, huh?) It’s Hallmark, so don’t tell me it’s not an appropriate or sentimental gift. He’s so high class, I’ll bet you wouldn’t find him at the super discount stores.

Everyone who comments and tells me where they’ve seen my book at will get your name in a drawing to win your very own pooping Snowman, a pack of “Christie Craig” Christmas Cards, and a “silly” pen. As a second prize, I’m also offering a pack of my Christmas cards, a copy of one of my previous published books, and a silly pen. So, let me know where you’ve seen my book on sale and you could be a winner.

Oh, the snowman will make a perfect white elephant gift.

P.S. Make sure you guys come back tomorrow morning to see who won.
Also pop over to http://www.dorchesterpub.com/Dorch/SpecialFeatures.cfm?ID=2579 to check out a contest over there to win a $20 gift certificate from Amazon.

And if you didn't read my "Call Story/Stories" that was published here several months ago, pop over tohttp://www.writingplayground.blogspot.com/ and read about my embarrassing and funny call story. There are even prizes being given away over there, too.

Hey...want more? Okay...on Wednesday December 3rd, pop over to http://novelthoughts.wordpress.com/ and post to enter a book, a pack of Christmas Cards, and a silly pen. More you say? Okay how on Wednesday checking out http://thewritersvineyard.com/ to read an epilogue of Divorced, Desperate and Dating.

Crime Scene Christie

The Toilet Flushing Mystery

Today I'm going to talk about the mystery of toilet flushing, because for the life of me, I can't see a good explanation for this nonsense. Those of you who have a newish home will know what I'm talking about. Those that have an older home, you might want to bring your toilets with you when you sell. Let me tell you why.

In the old days, back when we could flush Matchbox cars, Barbie, and our foot down the toilet, the tanks contained 5 gallons of water to push everything down. Then the environmentalists decided to get involved in order to "cut down on waste thus saving the environment" and to push it to consumers "save us money on our water and sewer bill." So the flush capacity was lowered from 5 gallons to 3.5 gallons. Still enough to get some good toys down the line, or that random pet alligator that seemed like a good idea at the time.

But then they struck again. In 1994, it became law that all toilets would be lowered to a 1.6 flush capacity. So in a matter of a years we lost almost 70% of our flushing capacity. The problem...no one changed the design of the original toilet. It still depends on gravity to push the water through creating the flush effect. There's no turbo wheel down in the bowl creating better suction to make up for the lack of water weight.

The result. Well, God forbid you need to do anything but number one AND you stock your home with anything but that industrial toilet paper that is so thin you could do major surgery peering through it. Because if you do, your likely to clog your toilet. I would bet that 50% of the time, I have to break out my plunger for completely normal bathroom activities. No Barbies, no alligators. Just toilet paper and the other stuff that's supposed to be in the toilet.

The secondary result. I now flush 3 times in order to avoid the plunger games. Sooooooooooo THANK YOU ENVIRONMENTALISTS AND PLEASE GET A MATH EDUCATION.

By my figuring, my old 3.5 tank, which worked fine was flushing 3.5 gallons of water. But my NEW, FANCY, LOW CAPACITY, SAVE-THE-ENVIRONMENT-FROM-ALL-THOSE-BAD-PEOPLE-WHO-NEED-TO-GO-POTTY version, I use 4.8 gallons per bathroom trip.

Congratulations, you've succeeded in using even more water, running up my bill AND reminding me why I think there ought to be an IQ test to even breathe in this country.

BTW - for those of you dealing with this terror, you can adjust the flap in the back for a little bit better action. Lord help us all, but I might be getting another .2 gallons of water in a flush, thus allowing me to flush a whole time less.

Anyone else have this problem? If so, what have you done about it? Unless you're walking around with the red-booty from that cheap toilet paper....I'm simply not going there. I'm a Charmin woman.

Deadly DeLeon

Happy Thanksgiving and One More Inside Review

Well, we survived Turkey Day. A lot more than I can say for the turkey. (sigh)

I actually got out of having to cook the full dinner. This year, we went over to my sister-in-law’s house. I cooked some fresh green beans and a chocolate pecan pie. (No cleaning the gizzards out of the turkey this year for me.) The pie was a big hit. Seriously yummy. And it was really easy and relative cheap to make, too. Here’s the link to the recipe if you’re interested in cooking one for Christmas: http://southernfood.about.com/od/pecanpies/r/bln385.htm Anyone else, have a great recipe you’d like to share?

I also wanted to post one more inside review on Divorced, Desperate and Dating. This one is from a special family member. My grandpuppy and one of the stars of the book.




“I’m a star. I’m a star. Hey, that’s me on the back of the cover. It’s really me!”




“I’m not really a crotch sniffer. Okay, maybe I’ve sniffed a few crotches in my day, but I don’t make a habit of it! In spite of that error, this is a must read.”



Oh, make sure you post on Tuesday to get your name entered in the drawing for the pooping snowman (Hey, it’s a candy dispenser) and other prizes.

Crime Scene Christie

Stuffed (and I'm not talking about the turkey)

Hope every had a fabulous Thanksgiving yesterday! Personally, I stuffed myself so full I probably don’t need to eat again until Christmas. On the menu: pesto torte, garlic mashed potatoes, rosemary stuffing, green beans with shallots, mushroom gravy, cranberry bread, gingersnap cookies, Mexican hot chocolate, and homemade apple pie. (And, of course, there was a very large turkey, but, being a vegetarian, I gave it a wide berth.) So you can see why I now resemble that blueberry kid from Willie Wonka. Seriously, I think someone had to roll me to bed last night. But totally worth it. (One guess what I’m having for lunch today? Aren’t leftovers the best?!)

After thoroughly gorging myself yesterday, I’m on to the next holiday tradition: Black Friday Christmas shopping. No, I was not one of you brave people in line outside the department stores at 4am. (Though, kudos if you were! You people are my heroes!) I’m doing strictly online shopping deals this year. Hey, why leave my fuzzy slippers and hot cocoa if I don’t have to? Plus, as I may have mentioned here before, I’m kinda in love with Amazon’s gift organizer, so I’m letting Amazon do the shopping for me this year. (That way if anyone doesn’t like their presents, I can blame Amazon!)

So, while I’m surfing the web for super bargains, I thought I’d kick off the Christmas season here with a free holiday short story I've written called Christmas in High Heels! It’s kinda long to fit in one blog post, so I’ll post the beginning to get your started and you can read the rest by visiting my website and downloading it for free: www.gemmahalliday.com




Christmas in High Heels

    “Maddie, what is that?” a deep voice asked behind me.
I looked up at the green sprig I was currently pinning to the ceiling of my boyfriend’s living room.
    “Mistletoe.”
    “Mistletoe?”
    “Yeah, you know, you’re supposed to kiss under it.”
    I felt a pair of large, warm hands at my waist as I strained forward on my stepladder. “I know what it’s for. I just don’t get why you’re risking life and limb to stick it to my ceiling. Whoa, careful,” he added, grabbing my hips as I teetered to the left.
    “Use your imagination, big guy,” I responded, stepping down to face him.
    “Hmmmm.” He looked up. We were standing directly underneath the green sprig. “Good point.”
    He leaned in close, his warm breath hitting my lips just a second before his mouth did. He tasted like coffee and the rocky road ice cream we’d had for dessert. Yum. I kissed him back. Hard. With tongue.
    “So,” he said when we finally came up for air. “What’s on the agenda tonight?”
    I nipped at his lower lip. “Use your imagination, big guy,” I repeated with a grin.
    Tonight was Christmas Eve. Our first together. Not that it was the first Christmas Eve that had passed since we’d started dating, but it was the first one we’d spent together. In fact, it was the first holiday of any kind that we’d really spent together.
    Jack Ramirez was tall, dark, and handsome with a capital H-O-T. He was also a homicide detective with a captain who tended to call at all the wrong times. Like on my birthday when our opera tickets had gone to waste over a double homicide in the West Hills. And last Valentine’s Day when he’d made reservations at this romantic, little Italian bistro with drippy candles and everything. Then had to cancel when some stockbroker got hopped up on one too many triple lattes and shot his partner in their office downtown. And then there was Halloween. My best friend, Dana, had thrown this huge costume party, and Ramirez and I were supposed to go as two-person horse. An outfit that doesn’t work so well when the front half gets called to a triple homicide near the airport.
    So, when Ramirez had sworn on his grandmother’s grave that his captain was not only not calling him in this Christmas but was also in Vancouver visiting his mother, I immediately made the agenda for our evening. Ramirez, me, and a nice romantic evening at home. Quiet. Alone.
    Possibly even naked.
    And from the look in Ramirez’s eyes, I’d say he was totally on board with that plan.
    He leaned in close again, doing a sort of deep growl thing in the back of his throat, before his hands snaked up my sides, pulling me taut against a six-pack Budweiser would kill for.
    I planted my lips squarely on his, nibbling again until we both started panting like Dobermans.
    But just as his fingers began flirting with the button fly of my jeans, the “William Tell Overture” rang out from my purse.
    Ramirez groaned.
    “Hold that thought,” I told him, quickly locating the offending cell and hitting the on button.
    “Hello?”
    “Merry Christmas, Maddie,” my mom’s voice sang out from the other end.
    “And Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ramadan, and Yule, too!” I heard Faux Dad (as I’d affectionately dubbed my stepfather) add in the background.
    “Thanks, same to you guys, too.”
    “We’re heading to your cousin Molly’s right now,” Mom said.     “Are you there yet?”
    “Uh, no.” I glanced across the room to where Ramirez was folding up the stepladder, while conspicuously standing just beneath my mistletoe. “We’re actually staying in tonight.”
    There was a pause. Then Mom’s voice rose two octaves. “What do you mean staying in tonight? Don’t you know it’s Christmas Eve?!”
    “Yes…” I hedged.
    “A holiday.”
    “Yes…”
    “A day for spending with family.”
    “Mom, I swear I will be at your house for turkey dinner tomorrow. But, Ramirez and I wanted to spend our first Christmas Eve together with just a nice, romantic, quiet evening at home.”
    “I never promised to be quiet,” Ramirez teased, grabbing my butt as he walked past with the ladder.
    I gave him a playful swat.
    “All right,” Mom said with a long-suffering sigh that only those who have given birth can master. “Spend the evening at home. You can catch up with us at Midnight Mass with your grandmother.”
    “Um, actually…”
    “Don’t say it, Maddie,” Mom warned.
    “Well, I kinda…”
    “If you love me at all, don’t tell me you’re not going to Midnight Mass with your grandmother.”
    I bit my lip. “Okay. I won’t say it.”
    Expectant silence hung on the other end.
    “Maddie, how could you!” Mom screeched.
    I pulled the phone away from my ear.
    “I’m sorry?” I said. Though it came out more as a question.
    “Your grandmother is Irish Catholic. Your grandmother lives for the church. Christmas Eve is maybe the most important day in the church. I just know you would not make you own mother, who loved you through every scraped knee and over-pierced adolescent boyfriend, tell your grandmother that you’re not coming to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve because you’re having a quiet evening at home!”
    I bit my lip again. Then said, “No, I wouldn’t.”
    Mom let out a sigh.
    Then I added. “Make Faux Dad do it.”
    “Maddie…” she warned.
    “Loveyou,MerryChristmas,you’rethebest,” I slurred together and quickly hung up the phone.
    Then dropped it in my purse again as if it were a time bomb waiting to go off.
    Yes, I know it was mean to leave Mom alone with Grandma. But I was pretty sure that I had years of dealing with my own mother’s eccentricities left, so it was only right to let her do her time with hers.
    “Did she blow up?” Ramirez came up behind me, wrapping both arms around my middle.
    “Like a hurricane on a trailer park.”
    “She’ll get over it.”
    “Maybe. Or maybe she’ll poison the cranberry sauce tomorrow night.”
    “Still worth it,” he mumbled, his lips nuzzling against my neck. His hands slid down to frame my hips, his mouth nibbling just at my pulse.
    I sighed. Yes. Yes, it was.


... and to read the rest, visit: www.gemmahalliday.com



~Trigger Happy Halliday

I am thankful for...

Those of us who are of a 'certain age' might recall writing assignments given to us by our teachers just before Thanksgiving break. We were asked to write a list of things we were thankful for that year. Of course, now in our state of separation of church and state run amok political correctness, I very much doubt public school teachers give this assignment to their students. Nevertheless, I think it's appropriate--even necessary--for all of us to take some time to sit and acknowledge those things in our lives we are grateful for. Now admittedly this year it might take more than the usual, uh, creativity, to come up with a respectable 'gratitude list', yet I feel confident we can all dig deep and do it.

I'll go first.

I am thankful for...

• my faith, my family, my friends, and my country
• wonderful weather for traveling
• great books, good books, bad books--ah, heck--just books!
• a job I love
• four days off from the job I love
• leftovers
• READERS!

I could go on and on. I have much to be thankful for. As do we all, I suspect. Even in tough times.

And now, duty calls. I am cooking the 'feast' and Young Tom needs basting. Previous turkey attempts resulted in:

• an exploding roasting bag
• leaving the oven on 'time bake'
• roasting the turkey upside down (although I have since learned Rachel Ray recommends this so nah, nah, nah, nah, nah)

Only time will tell if this year's efforts will be a success...

So what are you grateful for this Thanksgiving, 2008?

To you and yours a safe, happy, and yummy Thanksgiving.

~Bullet Hole~

Am I The Only One Who Finds This Creepy?

I ask because, well, I wonder about myself sometimes. Truth be told, it is just a female kitten with an E collar on so she will quit rubbing the fur off of her chin.

But try coming home to find her sitting in the corner a-la The Blair Witch Project. She doesn't move or even react to you or any noise you make. shudder...

Now I know, it's not her fault. It's my problem, really. Hell, I was weirded out by Holly Hobby in the 70's. Remember her? She didn't have a face!!! Well, some would argue with me that she did, indeed have a face, but for years all we saw was her sideways pose, no face just all Little-House-On-The-Prairie haberdashery. She gave me the willies.

Before her was the Casual Observer. This was another faceless little girl who always seemed to quietly watch life from the sidelines - never speaking - just WATCHING! I had nightmares about that thing for years.

Anyway, I've taken the collar off for the night. I don't want to get up in the dark to get a drink (of water...duh) and find her in the basement corner, luring me to some horrifying, scary ending.

That would totally suck.

Happy Thanksgiving.

The Casual Assassin

Oh, Those Reviews!

Winners! Winners! Winners!

Caffey, you are the big winner of one of my books and the other prizes. However, hubby pulled four other names out of my hat and said I needed to send them a pack of note cards and a pen, so . . . Brandy, Caroline, RK, and Terrio. Please send me your snail mail addresses to Christie (@) christie-craig.com so I can get those items in the mail.

CC

Well, today is the day. And to celebrate it, I’ve giving away a copy of Divorced, Desperate and Dating, a pack of note cards, and a “silly” Christie Craig pen that will remind you to keep smiling. So make sure you post, and also pop over to Dorchester’s website, at http://www.dorchesterpub.com/ and check out another contest where you might win a $20 gift certificate for Amazon.com.

My baby, my book, Divorced, Desperate and Dating, is off and running. The reviews are finally rolling in. It’s been a trying few weeks. Why? Well, some of you may not know this, but for the most part, writers are insecure little twits. Okay, I can’t speak for all writers, but the ones I know personally, won’t deny it. We wait, hold our breaths and pray our readers, fans, and the reviewers will love our babies as much as we do. Will they giggle in places we intended them to giggle? Will they sigh in those scenes we meant for them to sigh? Will they sniffle and have to blink away a tear in those passages that brought tears to our own eyes? Will they fall in love with our characters?

Yup, basically, we’re insecure little twits.

Anyway, today I thought I’d give you a peek at what some of reviewers are saying and you can also read my first thoughts after reading those reviews.

Fresh Fiction:

I really, really liked this story. It's fast-paced and extremely clever with a really good plot. Christie Craig's characters are very real, emotional people. You have to love Jason with his complicated background and admire him for becoming the man he is. You'll also love Sue's quirky mom and her "Elvis" boyfriend. Plan to put aside enough time to finish this book at one sitting. It's really hard to put aside! I look forward to more of Ms. Craig's fiction.

Christie’s first thought: She likes me and I don’t even know her. At least I don’t think I know her. Mama, did you go get a job at Fresh Fiction? Mama, is that you? Thank you, Fresh Fiction!

Romantic Times:

Four Stars and HOT. This sequel to Craig's Divorced, Desperate and Delicious is another delightfully entertaining novel with an intriguing mystery. Peopled with interesting new characters and familiar old ones, it also has its share of animal friends that add a lot of humor and warmth to the story.

Christie’s first thought: Who do I mail the check to? I’ll mail it as soon as I stop jumping up and down with joy. Love you RT!

Chey, Bookseller, at A Novel Place in Osseo, MN:

I loved Divorced, Desperate and Dating, by Christie Craig. I loved the characters Craig gathered to entertain us with and how she brought back the characters from Divorced, Desperate and Delicious into the new story so we can catch up on how they are doing. The humorous yet dysfunctional family is something we all can relate to.

Christie’s first thought: Dysfunctional? I thought they were pretty normal folks. I mean, I modeled them after my own family. You want to see dysfunctional? I’ll give you dysfunctional in the next book. J Thank you, Chey!!!!

Then there’s the inside reviews from the Craig household:

Bob Craig:

“You’ll stay up way too late reading it. But it’s purrrrfect. Now will you move the dog-gone book, so I can get comfortable?”

Louetta Craig:

“The pacing might be a little fast, but what do I know? I’m a
turtle.”




Mama Socks Craig:

“I loved everything about the book, but the crotch-smelling dog. Can I have my treat now?”




Skitter Craig:

“I laughed so hard I hacked up a hairball.”





Mr. Raton Craig:

“I thought someone said the book was a comedy. That was my uncle who bit the dust in the first chapter! And hey, that line right there is kind of cheesy, isn’t it?”





Oh Henry Craig:

“I hacked up a hairball, too. And it tasted like dead rat. Sorry about that, Mr. Raton, but no one insults my mama’s writing!”



Floppy Skivvies Craig:

“Someone said they were doing something like rabbits. I don’t understand.”



Okay…I hope I’ve given you a chuckle. And here’s what I want from you. Can you think of better captions for these pictures? Or post any comment for a chance to win.

Crime Scene Christie