I haven't had a candy apple (the hard-shell red carnival kind) in about twenty years; yesterday at 3 pm I had to have one. Had to as in had
to (no sense, no logic, just the craving) so I took the kids to the mall, walked around a bit, then purchased said candy apple from Palm Beach Confections and brought it home. I sliced it into manageable chunks with a butcher knife, sat down and -- without a thought of what I was doing to my dinner -- devoured it down to the seeds.
I remember the shell being better -- more cinnamon-y, maybe? -- and the dye turned my fingers red, but otherwise it was great. And I can probably go another twenty years before I have another. Very odd craving.
Rowling, King, Crow:
The new Harry Potter book, due to be released tomorrow (am I right? Am I the only person on the planet who keeps forgetting the date?) is receiving some early nods
from critics. Not so sure what they'll say when Rowling uses her next advance check to buy up Windsor Castle and rename it Hogwart's. What's the Queen going to do, outbid her? Hee hee.
Stephen King, he of much retirement talk and no action, has finished the last books in the Gunslinger series.
I liked the one with the insane monorail, I guess, except it and all the other books were stocked with the most unattractive characters, events, plots/no plots, and all those godawful literary symbols...but it's good to finish a series, so yay Steve.
And finally, a bit of nonsense
from Publishers Weekly, who conducted a phone interview with "Michael Crow", who is some famous literary author who has stooped to writing nasty genre fiction but is keeping a grocery bag over his true identity while he does it. Guess those famous literary novels weren't paying so hot, eh, Mike?
She's Alive! (Mostly):
Thank you for all the nice get-well wishes. I've shaken the fever at last, I can taste and smell and hear again, and I've been conscious, upright and coherent for twelve hours in a row, things I haven't been able to do since last Friday.
This was an ugly upper respiratory infection, not the flu, but it felt equally as wretched. Right now I'm concentrating on taking inhaler treatments and keeping the bugs from using my lungs as a swimming pool. I don't know how much weight I've lost but I think I can have all the chocolate cake I want for the rest of the summer and not sweat it.
I have to admit, this experience seriously scared the wits out of me. I've never been sick with a bug of any kind for more than two or three days straight in my life, tops, and this thing knocked me flat out, all-day all-night feverish to the tune of 104 F plus, couldn't get up, eat, breathe, write, read, or even focus my eyeballs for close to a week
. Ibuprofen, to which I normally respond well, didn't even make a dent in the thermometer.
Anyway -- I'm better, especially now that I'm really in touch with the fact that I'm not SuperImmortalGirl, but just a middle-aged woman who should be taking better care of herself. Time to hang up my cape for good.
Off for some R&R:
I'm spiking the mercury on the thermometer again, so I'm going back to bed and I'll be staying there for the duration. Not to worry, I have a friend coming tomorrow who's going to stay and look after me. See you all in a couple of days when I shake this thing.
Tales from Grace Chapel Inn:
For those of you who expressed an interest in my Christian novels, you can now order a subscription to the Grace Chapel Inn series online here
. This is a multi-author series, so if you subscribe be aware that you'll receive books written by three other authors as well as mine. For example, my first novel in the series is "Going to the Chapel" (the blue cover book shown at the front of the photo) but it would be the second novel you receive in the subscription.
There's a very strong possibility that I will write some standalone/short series Christian novels in the future; right now I'm developing some ideas in that direction. What's on the drawing board: a standalone historical set in WWI New York and a four-novel short series set in mid-19th century rural Maryland.
Mike was nice enough to infect me with his cold, which kicked my usually sturdy immune system on its butt. I don't know what this bug is, but I've been too weak to get out of bed except for the essentials since last night. I've finally shaken the fever (at the moment I'm sweating like I've run the Boston marathon in a wool jumpsuit) but the ongoing muscle pains and headache makes me think this is some variety of summer flu.
One of the not-nice things about being single: when you're sick there's no one to take care of you. I sent the kids to their Dad Friday night, and they just came home a few hours ago. They both fussed over me; Kath made me a dish of orange sherbet and Mike nagged me into drinking some Gatorade. I'm not dehydrated, though; I always keep a lot of bottled water on hand and I think I've sipped my way through about two gallons since Friday.
The trick now is going to be not working myself into a relapse, so I am not going to push myself. In fact, after I try some soup I think I'm going back to bed.