Words I never ever EVER thought I’d say: I adore my doctor.

Something that isn’t very evident from my blog posts is that I am big into natural and alternative health. Not so much into traditional western medicine. (Qualifier: for emergencies and big health issues, yes, very grateful for cutting-edge solutions and interventions.) I have a special dislike for pharmaceutical companies (again, with the same exception), and I’d much rather try natural supplements and/or herbs than take a capsule of chemical substances.

I’ve gone to a chiropractor for years and used to go to a naturopath. I’m open to other types of holistic practitioners as well, but there’s always been one thing holding me back: my insurance has never, ever paid for anything other than traditional MD appointments and treatments.

Just typing that last sentence sent my blood pressure skyrocketing.

You see, the treatments and methods that have been most effective in keeping/getting my family and me healthy have been alternative/natural in nature. (I use that combination because I don’t really know where “alternative” ends and “natural” begins. I don’t really care. The key here for me is EFFECTIVENESS.)

For example, I used to have chronic sinus problems. Horrible ones. I felt like crap every single day, no lie, with post-nasal drip, congestion, on-and-off sinus pain, etc. When my boys were toddlers, I remember thinking to myself as I laid down for my daily, much-needed-to-get-through-the-day nap, that my guys would remember me as the mom who napped all the time. And that’s not who I wanted to be, but I didn’t know how to change it.

Less than a year after my second child was born, my sinus problem became so bad that I rarely made it through a full month without needing antibiotics. Long story short, I gave in to traditional medicine recommendations and had sinus surgery.

Worst. Decision. Ever.

The surgery experience was awful, the recovery was horrible, and after about 6-8 months of no infections, all my sinus problems returned in full force. So the suffering was for nothing.

By random (fateful?) chance, I came across a book a few months later called Sinus Survival: The Holistic Medical Treatment for Allergies, Colds, and Sinusitis, which tells you how to overcome chronic sinus problems without using traditional medicine solutions. Things like a (long) list of supplements to take each day, specific house plants to clean the air in your home, diagnosing food sensitivities and systemic yeast problems that beat down your immune system, and what type of air purifying products to buy to improve the quality of the air in your home. If you have chronic sinus problems, I cannot urge you strongly enough to buy and read this book!

*ahem*

*stepping off spur-of-the-moment soapbox*

The surgery that my insurance covered in full (thankfully) did nothing for me long-term. The natural remedies that have restored my health in a one-eighty? Cost me tons. I spend over $100 in supplements per month (no longer the same ones recommended for sinuses, because, generally speaking, my sinuses are in good shape). The chiropractic care that has also made a world of difference in my life and my childrens’….let’s just say we likely singlehandedly paid for the chiropractor’s last tropical vacation. Eating healthy whole foods costs a FORTUNE, as does massage and accupuncture (which I have not yet tried but would like to).

But I haven’t had a sinus infection for over 4 years. The only antibiotics I’ve had in the past 8-9 years was a strong dose for a severely infected tooth, another round for a UTI, and one for a bout of bronchitis with a sinus infection.

So how does this relate to my overzealous adoration for my new doctor?

She’s part of the UW Integrative Medicine department. Integrative medicine is, according to Wikipedia because it offers a succinct answer, the combination of practices and methods of alternative medicine with evidence-based medicine. In my words, it’s an MD who has gone through “normal” medical school training but who has also received training in alternative/natural health care methods, like supplements, nutrition (did you know most medical schools offer no courses in nutrition?), etc.

I never, ever thought I would find an MD who shares my concerns about popping pills for whatever ails me, about treating symptoms instead of root causes, about treating specific body systems instead of the whole person. So when my doctor, at my annual appointment, discussed natural ways of balancing my hormones, including my hypothyroidism (not entirely natural there, but ways of treating it beyond just throwing some Synthroid at me), and supplements that can give me relief from allergy outbreaks (because I won’t take allergy pills), and she went through my lab results line by line explaining them and telling me either how awesome they were or what we could do to improve them (naturally, of course), etc. etc. etc., I literally called my husband in excitement when the appointment was over.

And not just because it was covered by insurance. (But it was!)

So yeah. I may be a health geek. A natural/alterative health freak. My dad now calls me the food nazi (which is yet another blog post). But I am feeling, at 42, awesome and healthy and unchemicalized and unpharmaceuticalized and…did I mention I adore my doctor?

** I feel the need to say that I know several doctors personally and they are all good people. My beef is more with the philosophy behind medicine in this country…not the people themselves.

I love yoga. In theory. And a little bit in practice. I aspire to be a yoga freak who can’t get through the day without a dose of it. But…so far that and reality are two very different things.

Bear with me while I give myself a pep talk.

My first reason for loving the idea of loving yoga is this: have you ever seen a lifelong yogi who is lumpy or fat? Especially when you narrow it down to people in their 50s and beyond…there’s a certain lean look that yoga-practicers seem to share. And a certain non-lean look that many non-yogis share. If I have the choice, I want the yoga body, please.

Second, when I do yoga for several days in a row, it feels awesome. Noticeably awesome. I’ve used it for back pain, neck pain, general 40-something morning…creakiness, we’ll call it, relaxation and more. Though I’m not yet a longtime devotee, I have been faithful to a regular practice for months at a time, and it truly does a body good. Tons more so than milk, especially for a dairy-intolerant girl like me.

Third, it’s becoming known that most of the top deadly health problems (heart attack, stroke, diabetes, etc.) are due, in part, to chronic inflammation. *raising hand* Hello, as an allergy  and food sensitivity sufferer, I am chronically inflamed. And what do you know, I read an article last week that said yoga can help reduce systemic inflammation.

Fourth, as a chronically hormonally whacked female, I’m thrilled to learn that practicing certain yoga poses can help regulate/balance one’s hormones.

Fifth, it can decrease asthma (which goes back to the lowering inflammation thing.)

Sixth…

Who needs a sixth? (Though I’m sure there are countless other benefits of yoga.)

Dr. Sara Gottfried, MD and author of The Hormone Cure, (a book I highly recommend that all women read!) suggests trying to start with just one pose per day. She has a series on youTube called Just One Pose. And this, to me, might just be doable.

So today, I started. I overachieved, actually, and did 2 poses. And I’ll do another one tomorrow…and the next day…and I’ll see how many days in a row I can do just one pose.

Any yogis out there nodding in agreement? Any yogi wannabes who want to join me in this small goal? 5 minutes a day to start. Who’s in?

Today’s (short, existing mainly to avoid losing the blog challenge with my husband) blog is brought to you by Puffs. And it’s of massive importance to the free world. And it’s been bugging me for some time. (And unfortunately, I doubt Procter & Gamble will kick in anything for my free advertising for them since I’m less than enthusiastic….)

Question of the day: Why do makers of facial tissues insist on making every last box butt ugly?

I don’t think it requires an advertising degree or a marketing background to figure out that it would be beneficial for a company to put attractive packaging on its products. And while I understand that everyone has different tastes, I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that there is no one in the known universe who really thinks tissue boxes are attractive. Orange and purple stripes? Really? And those colors go well together on what planet?

Better yet, when I googled “Puffs box designs” to get some quality photos to use for this blog, I (easily) came across a post in a discussion forum (no idea where or what forum, didn’t care) about how UGLY the new Puffs boxes are. (I didn’t check whether it was recent. It doesn’t matter.)

Yes, I know I could spend some money on those (ugly) plastic/glass/whatever tissue box covers, but as a household with a lot of allergies (and a lot of dust!) we have a box in every room and A) I don’t want to spend a small fortune on tissue cover boxes and B) Did I mention they’re ugly too?

When my grandma was alive, she used to be the queen of what I lovingly call plastic-sewed crap. You know what I’m talking about…you use thick yarn to stitch a design into flat pieces of stiff plastic, and then when you’re done with several pieces, you can sew them together to make nifty 3-dimensional objets d’art. Suddenly, I feel compelled to dig into a forgotten box in the garage and see if I can find Grandma’s Tissue Holder…it’s slightly less ugly than what Puffs offers, and if nothing else, it’s got sentimentality going for it!.

(Disclaimer: the homemade box cover pictured here is NOT by my grandma. I found its glorious self on the Interwebz.)

PS I guess this wasn’t as short as it should have been.

One of the tasks required of an author is writing a bio about oneself that will appear in books, on websites, in promotions, etc. To the non-author, I imagine it seems like writing a bio should be no big deal. Easy peasy. A minor task considering we’ve written full novels, most of us multiple times. But I’m here to tell you, it’s a daunting, unfun task.

When I wrote mine (years ago…yeah, I might need to update it), I fell back on an inherent part of me: sarcasm/dry humor. One of the lines in one of the versions of my bio is: “She graduated from the University of Kansas with degrees in French and journalism and feels lucky to use very little of either one in her writing career.”

Well, it turns out that line is not quite true.

First off, as any author will tell you, we spend a lot of time, too much time, promoting ourselves. As my journalism degree was focused on advertising, I’m forced to use it more than I’d like to, to promote myself and my books.

And the French? Ah, that’s a no-brainer, right? Who ever uses a French degree? (Apologies to my favorite French professor, who I reconnected with when one of my books was translated and released in France.)

Well, it turns out I’ve been using my French lately. No, not to say dirty words without anyone understanding me. (Where’s the fun in that?) I’ve been using it in my editing job, which is closely related to my writing career. My current project is a paranormal romance that features vampires of French descent. So of course the author has sprinkled in French phrases and lines here and there. And my next project has a French phrase in the title of the book and, judging from the sample I already edited, some French-ness sprinkled in as well.

Of course, though I’ve never made any promises or guarantees that my French is up to par, I’m compelled to edit the French and correct it where necessary. (Copy editor=OCD.)

All I can say is thank god for French dictionary sites, French verb conjugation sites, and reconnections with my French professor. Not necessarily in that order.

Here’s a big thank you to Professor B for helping me out this week on a French grammar question. And for not (once again) bringing up that little line in my bio (which he previously gave me due grief for, rest assured.) And for not (yet) pointing out that irony is quite the beyotch.

I don’t come out of my cave much. Part of what I love about being a writer (and editor) is the introverted part, the holing up and hiding behind my monitor. The working on my own schedule, doing my own thing, being able to type most of my communication with the outside world instead of speaking it, etc. Is there a fine line between introvert and hermit? Perhaps.

Barbara Vey, who worked her tail off to put on a fabulous event, and me

So you might say that doing in-person promotional events is outside of my comfort zone (and probably so for the majority of authors, I’d guess.) For the past year, I actually managed to avoid doing any signings, conferences, or other events that would require me to put on something other than ripped jeans. Bad me, I know.

However, last weekend, I emerged from my cold, dark cave for the 2nd Annual Barbara Vey Reader Appreciation Lunch. And once my eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight, it was worth it. Not just for the connections I made, but for the affirmation of what I do. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t assign any over-importance to my stories. But connecting with readers and other writers…it’s good for the soul. Whether they’re my readers yet or not, seeing the passion people have for their books…it does a writer’s heart good. So to the people I met last weekend, both authors and readers, thank you for making my trip out of my comfy, isolated hideaway well worth the shell-shock.

Reader Tipa, who I sat next to at lunch, and who, coincidentally, won the door prize beach basket and books I gave away

Me with reader Jennifer

Delicious, sinful, drag-Amy-off-the-gluten-free-wagon cupcakes with my book cover (as well as Susan Carlisle's) on it

Me with reader Jess

I didn't get this reader's name but she made my day and bought a book for her friend, who said I'm her favorite author. *swoon*

Author Ruthie Knox and me. I adored Ruthie's novella "How to Misbehave" and was thrilled to sit by her for the book signing

Author James Rollins gave the keynote speech, which I enjoyed even though he's a Missouri grad (said the Kansas grad)

Mama always said there’d be days I wouldn’t feel like blogging. Or rather, I wouldn’t have time. But there’s the challenge with my husband, and I cannot lose, so blog at 10:52pm I must. (Apologies in advance for putting very little thought into it and having very little to say.)

Tomorrow I’m heading to Barbara Vey’s Reader Appreciation Lunch. In fact, this is the reason I didn’t blog earlier. Because I got some crazy bug up some random part of my body that it would be cool to make homemade chocolates in firefighter shapes. I know. But they’re done. Fire helmets, hydrants, trucks and crests. And they’re tasty. So for the readers who choose to sit at my table tomorrow…SCORE!

Each of the 35ish authors attending are giving away a raffle basket. I hope authors are eligible to win them as well because I’m greedy that way. My “basket” has a beach theme in honor of my Texas Firefitghers of San Amaro Island and is a soft 24-can cooler for the beach, a beach towel, sunglasses, flip flops, sunscreen, inflatable beach ball, and a complete set of my Texas Firefighters books.  Yes, all SEVEN of them…because by random luck, my author copies of A TIME FOR US showed up today, just in time to add to the prize! So whoever wins my “basket” will be the very first person in the world to have my newest book in their hot little hands. (Well, other than my mom, who will likely get her copy in the car on the way to the luncheon. She deserves one for going with me, don’t you think?)

Since I have to be in Milwaukee by 10 (and it’s a 2-hour drive), it’s time for me to sleep. Hope to see some of you tomorrow for lunch!

I’m in a rut.

rut: a fixed or established mode of procedure or course of life, usually dull or unpromising

Definitely NOT to be confused with rut: the periodically recurring sexual excitement of the deer, goat, sheep,etc.

No. The rut I’m in has nothing to do with animals and everything to do with denim.

I hate shopping for jeans almost as much as I hate shopping for a swimsuit. Why? Because I don’t happen to have an ideal, long, lean body with legs that don’t quit or narrow hips. You know, the kind of body jeans are made for.

About 5 years ago, I happened upon a style and brand of jeans that FITS ME. (Okay, honestly, “happened upon” with the help of a magazine article.) Not that I can make do with, but that actually work for my (odd) body shape, height, weight, etc. I rejoiced. Lots. And have continued to buy that brand and style of jeans ever since. Only that, nothing else. This is my rut, and I’m totally fine with it.

Except that my rut is now threatened, and with it, my inner denim peace.

You see, I had 3 pairs of this style of jeans (different shades of blue, people! I am a fan of a little variety.) A month or two ago, one of the pairs developed an…issue.  It ripped in a place where jeans of a 42-year-old woman should not be ripped. So I was down to 2 pairs. And intended to get out and buy another pair (yep, same style, same brand, duh) soon.

Well, I’m slow and hadn’t gotten out to replace the ripped pair yet. And then I noticed one of my two remaining pairs was wearing thin…in a place a 42-year-old woman’s jeans should not be thin/nearly see-through.

Hello, jeans crisis.

So I went to the mall last weekend and decided to get my jeans, hopefully two pairs. Problem: the store where I buy my jeans is under construction. Closed until May. *minor panic attack* But I could buy them online. I happen to know my size (and brand and style, did I mention that?) so no big deal.

I went home and got online to order. But…THEY NO LONGER HAVE MY SIZE IN MY STYLE. It appears my style is being closed out!

*major panic attack*

I immediately emailed customer service to ask if this is so. I may have sort of begged and pleaded with them a little bit. I’m still waiting to hear back.

In the meantime, I’m preparing for this Major Crisis by trying to figure out how the heck to find jeans that fit me right.

Did you know there’s a website for that? http://www.ilovejeans.com/  They have a guide to what styles and brands of jeans fit what bodies.

But I have to warn you: you might not be overly, um, flattered with what you find out.

(I am what they call a pear shape. In our family, we call our fat cats pear shaped because, well, they have large asses. Yeah. *raising my hand*)

So anyway, my research has just begun as I wait for confirmation of the worst wardrobe news ever. But in the meantime, I wanted to provide my readers with very helpful, if hurtful, service* of how to find jeans that will fit your body: http://www.ilovejeans.com/blog/know-your-denim/ I’m now the proud purveyor of knowledge about my (former) jeans’ inseam, rise measurement, ankle opening size, and so much more. All I need to do is find the perfect match.

If you dare to go to the jeans site and find you are, indeed, also a pear shape, let me know. Maybe we could form a support club of some kind. Pears Anonymous. Pear shapes unite. If you’re brave enough to own it, of course.

 *Not responsible for meltdowns caused by finding one’s true body type. Hey, I’m a PEAR. Deal with it.

So I’ve been sitting on some news for a while now regarding my next releases. In addition to A Time For Us, the 7th book in my Texas Firefighters series with Harlequin Superromance that comes out this June, I’m busting out and trying something new: short stories. Believe it or not, in my (admittedly not very long, though sometimes it feels like ages) publishing career, I’d never written anything other than novels of 65,000-85,000 words.

My first two shorts are finished, and I’ve been working with a new publisher to release them: myself! Yes, I’m diving into the world of indie publishing and loving it so far, though it’s a lot of work.

Today I thought I’d post the cover and blurb for the first short story, which is related to my Texas Firefighters series. (My upcoming June novel, A Time For Us, is about Fire Lieutenant Cale Jackson and Dr. Rachel Culver…Impulse features Cale’s sister, Mariah, and Rachel’s brother, Sawyer.)

IMPULSE

Ebook available June 1, 2013

Wild nights are a thing of Dr. Sawyer Culver’s past—and a rare thing, at that. So why, when he’s on the verge of finally doing his family proud, does he make his most impulsive mistake yet?

Salsa dancer Mariah Jackson lives to the beat of her own drum. A self-professed flirt, she’s never been one to set her sights on any specific man. Until Sawyer bursts into her life…and her bedroom. Now it’s up to her to convince him to embrace the life he really wants.

Impulse will be just 99 cents, and I’ll post links on my website as soon as it’s available. A big thank you to my awesome cover designer! What do you think? (I think, as someone who’s stuck in the Wisconsin Winter-That-Would-Not-End, that I’d do just about anything to be on that beach!)

Stay tuned…I’ll be sharing the cover for Slow Burn, the story of Cooper Flannagan (Penn’s roommate in After the Storm) and Zoe Griffin (Penn’s sister) very soon.

There’s a trend, or maybe it’s advanced to be the new normal rather than a trend, that caters to the color-loving fool in me that worships the Box of 64: skins and covers and cases for phones and electronics.

From my first non-solid-colored iPhone case—a colorful skull and rainbow design (don’t spend too much time analyzing what that says about my psyche, please)—I’ve been hooked to the concept for 2 reasons. 1) To break up the drab gunmetal grays, whites and blacks of electronics and 2) For the insightful bit of individuality they provide, both mine and everyone else’s.

So I’m waiting not-so-patiently for this revolution to expand beyond personal electronics. My first hope? Vehicles.

Look how boring and colorless this pic of a local parking lot is (and would be, even if the sky wasn’t full of gray clouds.) Gray, silver, dark green, white, black, blah, blah, blah. WHY CAN’T OUR STREETS BE FULL OF COLOR???  My first plea is to the car companies.  There are 64 colors in the box!  Why must we choose from 8-10 colors when we buy a car? (Cost, yada yada, I don’t want to hear it.)

If car makers want to continue to be dense, then we could resort to car skins. There are a jillion different sizes, brands, and shapes of electronics skins, so why not for cars?  I would totally spring for some skins for my 1999 Toyota minivan (and could they make them fit nicely over her dents and scratches, please?)

You could have skins for the full car (in chunks, of course) or you could choose to just cover your doors or your hood or whatever. Think of the possibilities! Brighter colors, patterns, tie-dye, polka dots, stars, stripes, cartoon characters…be still my heart.

And if we brighten up our streets and parking lots, my next request is…houses. Builders, could we please not have any more subdivisions full of beige, off-white, cream, gray, and ecru? *shudder* If they’re worried about slowing sales, then leave the exterior unpainted until there’s a contract! And then…periwinkle! Burnt sienna! Spring green! Magenta! Whatever the hell the homeowner desires!

*deep breath* I’m getting over-excited.

As the great Jim Hodges said (haha, I don’t know who he is but I like his quote and I suppose I should go make sure he’s not some creepy murderer or something):

“Color is for me the purest form of expression, the purest abstract reality.”

My thoughts exactly, Jimbo.

I don’t have any stats to back it up, but I’ve seen somewhere recently that the advent of ebooks has people reading more. As an author, this makes me ecstatic. As a reader, yes…I think it’s true for me. Or it was until the past year or so anyway.

I’ve confessed many times on this blog and other places to my tendency to, um, overbuy where books are concerned. Bright side is I have kind of my own little library. Down side is, well, I’m a Libra, and making decisions is tough for me. Even deciding what to read.

So sometimes, these days, I read more than one book at a time, despite having always been a one-book-at-a-time kind of girl in the past, pre-ebooks. (I’m not altogether sure that it’s the ebook thing that changed me, but whatever.) Sometimes I’ll read an ebook on my phone as well as a different print book.

And then I take that a little further…and I’ll start both a fiction ebook and a nonfiction ebook on my phone. And the print book. Or maybe two print books…a fiction and a nonfiction.

And now I seem to have outdone myself because I’m “reading” 6 books at once (well, not exactly AT ONCE, because I only have the two eyes and they tend to need to look at the same thing). There’s the Catherine Mann book on ebook and a pyschology book on ebook as well. Plus an ebook about indie publishing. And then there’s the Jennifer Crusie in print. The nonfiction natural health book in print. Oh, and the military nonfiction, also in print.

I need an intervention. Because while I adore reading and am enjoying most of these books immensely, I’m having a wee problem. Whenever I get a few minutes of reading time, I become overwhelmed. (I mentioned I’m an indecisive Libra, right?) And I can’t choose what the hell I’m in the mood to read.

So if you see me relaxing with my eyes glued to my phone, it’s a very good possibility that I short-circuited out over the book choice and am deeply engrossed in a game instead.  Maybe Solitaire Golf, Words With Friends, or Flow. But please don’t give me any awesome game app recommendations, because if I have many more choices, I may have to get rid of the phone altogether to avoid further meltdown.