I Ain't Said Nothin' But A Word...

At midnight, I was wide awake, having only benefitted from maybe two whole hours of sleep in the last forty-eight hours. At midnight, I was in a hospital intensive care unit, watching the patient monitor, staring at a series of bold green lines as if they held some magical key to the mysteries of the world. At midnight, I was hoping that series of bold green lines would promise me that everything would be well in my very small world. The numbers ebbed and flowed and the lines graphed in sync with my beloved grandmother’s heartbeat, and blood pressure, and oxygen rates. At midnight, with little to no sleep at all, a series of bold, green numbers proved to be a harsh reminder that life is both precious and fragile and there isn’t one more midnight hour that is ever promised to any of us.

Wednesday morning my mean-as-spit granny was giving me a fit about finding a man who wasn’t so pretty. According to her my very special friend will never serve me well. He is far “too pretty”. She said I needed to find me an ugly man who would always take good care of me. She had an exceptional day. Out early to a doctor’s appointment, on to the store with a mile-long shopping list, lunch at one of her favorite haunts and then an afternoon of fussing and bossing those of us who love her best. When I tucked her into bed that night she was quite pleased with having beaten me at poker, leaving my wallet some $20 lighter. She was sufficiently tired and ready for a good night’s rest. Fast forward some sixteen hours to Thursday afternoon and we were sitting in a hospital emergency room being told my poor granny had pneumonia and was in the initial stages of congestive heart failure. Only hours later they said she suffered a very mild heart attack. Here it is now, Saturday morning, and I am s

Yesterday, Exodus Tyson, the 4-year-old daughter of former heavy-weight boxer Mike Tyson died at a hospital, one day after her neck apparently got caught in a treadmill cord at her Phoenix home. I can only begin to imagine her poor mother's heartbreak. I don't know about tears in heaven, but I know there is a wealth of tears being spilled down here on earth. We'll never know why God calls us home when he does. I can only hope that he had great need for such a little angel in his hallowed halls. My condolences to the family for their loss.

So, I am watching the Eastern Conference game between Miami and Cleveland. It’s what you do if you love the game, whether your team has made it to the play offs or not. I actually haven’t actively followed a team since I left Connecticut back in 1996. Back then I was a diehard Knicks fan. I loved me some New York Knicks. When I moved South it proved to be somewhat of a challenge to follow the Knicks that closely. My father was an avid sports fan. Typically, quality time with daddy was quality time watching something sports-related on the television. We never missed a Knicks game. I grew to love the Knicks during the early 1970’s when their team roster was a star-studded plethora of talented sportsman. Back then they won two NBA championships with Willis Reed, Walt Frazier, Dave DeBusschere, Earl Monroe, and Bill Bradley. My baby, Patrick Ewing, made them a dominant force again in the 1990’s. I had a serious thing for Patrick. When head coach, Pat Riley, resigned, then Charles Smith, Do

It's a family cookout kind of weekend! I spent yesterday helping my parents with their first summer blast. The food was on point, particularly the barbecued spareribs which are my father's specialty. The company was exceptional, two families blending beautiful together. It was an absolutely great time. Today, I'm barbecuing with my very special friend and his family. I will probably eat more hotdogs and hamburgers this weekend than should be allowed. Toss in the baked beans, corn-on-the-cob and I can already feel my hips expanding back into those oversized pants I've been struggling to get out of. But I wouldn't give it up for anyting in the world. It's that kind of weekend! Enjoy!

Navigating a conversation with my old people is proving to be quite entertaining and somewhat of a challenge. I am now adequately settled in with my granny. We’ve already bumped heads. First was over my having a key. It would seem that folks with keys to her home might sneak in and rob her. I told her since I was now living there, that was highly unlikely. She said you can never be too safe. I still don't have a key. Then she insisted on cooking me a welcome home dinner. She’s not supposed to cook and I told her so, making it perfectly clear that I would take care of our meals. This morning I get this frantic call on my way to work that she had put a pan of meat into the oven to bake and she couldn’t get it out. She was afraid it would burn and I needed to rush right back to help her. She didn’t see why I would have a problem turning around to travel ten miles back home when I was already late. I’ve come to realize that there are many lessons to be learned with this experience. Pa

Baby girl is barely fifteen years old. She’s been agonizing all day that she might be pregnant. Either Ben or Bill could be her baby’s daddy. This salacious drama is unfolding amongst her freshman classmates, text messages on Facebook and Twitter raging over the internet. Their little social network has been blowing up the telephone line since second period math class. I’ve been getting the play by play details from the friend of one of the boy’s who might have fathered her child. I have asked a few times now where her parents are in all this. The last time I asked, the answer left me shaking my head. Seems daddy’s been long gone and mom’s recovering. You don’ t want to know from what. I’m amazed that all of these kids are so forthcoming with their business. Not a one of them is blinking an eye at baby girl’s predicament. The boys are all in awe of Ben and Bill like the two have actually accomplished something and all baby girl seems most concerned with is whether or not she’s going to

I am surrounded by stuff and clutter. More “stuff” than I know what to do with. I’m moving. I made the decision to leave my immaculately decorated home for the comfy clutter of my grandmother’s back room. If you remember, it took me forever to get my new home where I wanted it to be so this was no easy decision. So I am surrounded by stuff that I’m trying to pack into storage and I can’t help but ask myself what I’ve managed to sign on for. My grandmother is pushing ninety. And she’s beginning to wear her age. She’s having some serious issues. Her seeing dead people is topping the list. When I moved to North Carolina I came specifically to be close to my granny in case she needed help. Back then she’d balked at the thought. Today, she can’t wait for me to move in, having a long list of things for me to help with. Ghosts seem to be the biggest problem thus far. For months now I had hoped to convince her to move into an assisted living facility. She’s been adamant that she will not leav

For all you mom's, mom's-to-be, surrogate mom's, and any one else who is deserving of the acknowledgement, may you each have a safe and blessed Mother's Day!

My publisher had a very good year, boasting record increases in their annual revenue. Everyone from CNN to NBC was reporting the remarkable accomplishment of a company that didn’t actually show a loss for the past year. I’m glad someone is doing well. However, if my latest royalty check is any indication, the publisher is clearly the only one who did, ‘cause this author is headed straight to the unemployment line. I’m considered a midlist author. I’m not able to buy myself a new house with what I make writing and there will be no trips to San Tropez or any getaway purchases for me to boast about. Sum total, what I have made in the last six years since I was first published, isn’t enough to support a family of two for one year. You know when Uncle Sam isn’t even impressed that there’s not much for you to get overly excited about and Sam has hardly been impressed. My last two books outsold all of my books. In fact, they sold out, went back to press a couple of times and sold out again. T

When I started writing I set a number of goals for myself. The first was to become a NATIONAL BEST SELLING AUTHOR. I achieved that goal with book number four, Forever And A Day . Seeing such highlighted on the cover of my fifth book, Love In The Lineup , was very nice indeed. This past week I achieved goal number two. I can now add AWARD WINNING AUTHOR to my resume. I'd been nominated a number of times for a number of different awards, but had never quite made it to the finish line in first place. Things changed with the nomination of TAME A WILD STALLION which just won the Romantic Times 2008 Reviewers' Choice Award for Best Series Romance - Kimani Books. I am floating on clouds I'm so ecstatic! I'm looking to make the New York Times Best Seller's List next. I figure if you have to aim for anything, then aim high. Who knows what might fall in your lap along the way. Doing my happy dance!!! Clapping my hands!! Stomping my feet!!! Happy, happy happy!!!!

Ok, so insomnia and I are doing this weird dance with each other. He’s got me by my short hairs and is very much in control. Days without sleep will seriously mess with your psyche. I’m amazed at some of the crap that’s been racing through my head. Right now I’ve got new relationship anxiety and my relationship is truly no longer new. Being a priority in a man’s life is a new animal I don’t know quite how to tame. It feels foreign to me. I keep trying to play but since I don’t know the rules, I don’t know how to participate. I keep tripping over myself, my spirit moving me off balance. I’m afraid that it is only a matter of time before I’ll go spinning out of control and end up flat on my face. I should be reveling in all this attention but instead, I find myself questioning the motives behind it. Someone has got to want something from me ‘cause nothing this good comes without a price. Then all these little voices want to chime in, telling me to sit back and enjoy the ride. But not kno