I’m so tired of always having fur on my carpets! I’m even more tired of vacuuming, so I decided to try a Roomba. Here’s the first few seconds of its inaugural voyage across my living room floor (the clumps of dog fur were planted by me, I hasten to add, but there are days when my carpet does look like that all on its own). Keeper was a little freaked out, while Jet was mildly curious. After this initial reaction, they completely ignored the thing. I wish they would be so mellow about the mail carrier and the UPS guy.

Now that I’ve had my Roomba for two days, what do I think?

The Good: Wow, does it clean! I’m shocked and appalled at all it’s picked up from what I thought was a clean carpet. It zips under furniture to sweep areas that haven’t seen a vacuum in, well, a very long time. It sucks up big stuff and small. It covers the entire floor and has these little bristly things that reach into corners and along walls. It’s quite impressive.

The Bad: When a machine picks up so much stuff, the stuff has to go somewhere, and there’s the problem. I’ll be in my office while the Roomba’s in the living room, for example. As the Roomba zooms around the room, its bristle brush gets full of dog hair and other debris and the Roomba stops. A nice woman calls out to me from the living room: “Clean the brushes!” and the dogs begin to bark at the stranger in the house. Cleaning the brushes is not difficult but it takes about ten minutes and is going to get old fast. Roomba hasn’t made it through a single room without asking for my help. Now, maybe this is just a testament to the fact that the carpet was in desperate need of cleaning, but I have a feeling in my two-dog house, this will be the norm.

So I need to make a decision about whether to keep this little guy or not. I’m curious about the new Neato, but it’s significantly more expensive, especially since I purchased the Roomba at Bed, Bath and Beyond with one of their 20% coupons. As I walk around my house tonight, though, and see carpets that are very nearly spotless, knowing they can be that way every single day without me having to drag out the vacuum. . . well think of all the extra time I’ll have to write. Except for those ten-minute brushing-cleaning breaks. Hmm.

How about you? Do any of you use a robotic cleaner? I’d love to hear your experiences.

Actually, these are my second impressions. My first weren’t so good, but that was because: a) I have no Mac experience; b) I wanted to learn to do many complicated things at once, and preferably by osmosis; and c) I am impatient. Oh, and d) I neglected to notice the User’s Guide, which really is a pretty handy little thing! But I’ve had my iPad for a couple of weeks now and I’m falling in love with it. I know I’ve only scratched the surface of what I can do with it. I’m a true novice. Still, for those of you who’d like a novice-eye view from a decidely un-techie person, I thought I’d share. 

One of the things I love best about the iPad is that I can type a document on the screen. I bought an external wireless keyboard thinking I would need it, but I may just take it back. The screen is so much fun and easy to use. It’s especially great for typing a draft. I’ll probably never use it for major editing since I love a mouse for that, but I’m impressed with all I can do with this little keyboard alone. I use an ergonomic keyboard with my desktop because of rheumatoid arthritis, but the pressure needed to type on the screen is so effortless that–so far–it’s not causing me any problems.  The keyboard also changes according to my needs. Trying to go to a website? The keyboard automatically offers me a  ”.com” button. Very cool.

I use the Pages application for creating documents, as I’m doing right now. It’s correcting my mistakes as I type. There are zillions of applications you can download for free or very little money, and I’m only getting started exploring them. I have a calculator app to help when I’m balancing my checkbook online. I have Passport Wallet to help me remember all my passwords. . . as long as I can remember the password I used to lock the wallet. Hmmm. What was that password?

The apps I will never download are the games, and I’m making that statement here publicly. Games are my weakness. Years ago I blogged about my Freecell addiction. Back then, you needed a password to get to Freecell.  I finally made up a long, complicated password that I knew I’d be unable to memorize. I jotted it down and gave it to my stepdaughter when she came to visit, telling her never to allow me to have it. But I called her before she’d even reached her own front door, pleading for the password like the addict I was. I’ve taken all games off my computer and I hope I have the strength to keep them off my iPad.

The iPad doesn’t take the place of a computer. You can’t use it to save a bunch of files, but you can email them to yourself or to a “cloud account” like MobileMe, then pick them up on your desktop or laptop. MobileMe is also busy syncing my calendar and contacts at all times, a huge convenience. I never did master the calendar sync function on my Blackberry, but so far it’s worked seamlessly with the iPad.

Surfing the web and managing email are easy and I love that I can change the size of a web image with a pinch of my fingers. I went with the 3G model, which means I can connect to the Internet even if there’s no WiFi connection available. I opted for this feature because I recently stayed in a couple of hotels (good ones, mind you) where I ended up needing to use a cord connection (ethernet? what do I know?) to physically connect my laptop to the ‘net. What a hassle, and with the iPad I would have been out of luck. Getting 3G  turned out to be a good thing, because our household WiFi connection is apparently not all that strong in my home office and having 3G allows me to connect in my office as needed. But the 3G is a luxury. If you don’t mind being disconnected when you’re out and about until you can find a Starbucks or Panera with free WiFi, then don’t bother paying the extra money for 3G.

I love the airplane mode feature! By flicking this little toggle, you disconnect from the Internet, thereby extending your battery life. Whether you could still use the iPad to read on a plane during take-off and landing, I’m not sure. I think that’s the theory, but when I last flew we were told to turn off anything with an on-off switch, so that would include the iPad. That’s the negative about using an e-reader. Those around you on the plane are turning pages and you’re staring out the window at the runway. Still, the page-turners have five books in their suitcases while you have one little e-reader, so it all works out in the end.

Back to reading. How does the iPad fare? Well, it’s fantastic. . . but you can get other e-readers for far less money, so I’d only go the iPad route if you’ll be making good use of its other features. I’ve had a Kindle for a couple of years and I love it, but I never knew what the book covers looked like because they don’t show up on the Kindle. By installing the free Kindle app on the iPad, suddenly all my Kindle books appeared in front of me in all their colorful, graphic glory. Wow! I’d had no idea! I also love the backlight and the ability to adjust the brightness, but if you’re the type to suffer eyestrain from computer use, the Kindle or another more page-like e-reader might be a better choice. I do miss the dictionary feature of the Kindle. There may be something similar on the iPad, but it’s not intuitive and I haven’t checked the user’s guide to find out where it exists. With Kindle, if you put the cursor in front of a word you don’t know, you instantly get the definition. Beautiful.

Battery life. Well, it’s not the Kindle, which kept on ticking for a week or two on one charge, but that’s because the iPad is doing so much more than simply displaying books. I’ve been charging it about every other night. Not a big deal, but the Kindle spoiled me there.

I have a lot of travel coming up in the next few months and I’m wondering if I dare leave my laptop home. Right now, I couldn’t. I have too many documents and pictures on my laptop that I need. . . and that I can rarely predict I’m going to need. Promotional requests that require one certain buried image, for example. Or a document I’ve tucked away someplace on the laptop, never thinking I’d need again. But if I can get my act together well enough to upload the things I might need to MobileMe, I might just risk it. We’ll see.

I’d say I’ve discovered about 10% of what I will ultimately be able to do with the iPad. I still have a lot to learn and plan to take one of the free classes at the Apple store if I can ever find the time. If you’re using an iPad, I’d love to hear what you like–or don’t like–about it. Just don’t tell me about your favorite games!

A few nights ago when I was getting ready for bed, I had a nighty-night pill and my earplugs waiting for me on my nightstand. Not thinking, I reached for an earplug and my bottle of water, catching myself when I had the earplug an inch from my mouth (which is much better than the time I nearly swallowed my dog’s pill; I really need to pay attention to what I’m doing!).

As I realized my error, the following scenario took less than twenty seconds to run through my mind:

I swallow the earplug. It gets its soft, foamy mass stuck in my windpipe and I can’t breathe. I run into the dining room where John is working at his laptop and try to demonstrate that I need the Heimlich maneuver. How would I do it?? Omigod! Could I ever make him understand what I need? Would I have time to write down that I had an earplug stuck in my throat?? Would there be a pen nearby? Would I try to Heimlich myself, throwing my midsection across the back of one of the dining room chairs? Aren’t the chairs too tall? Would John think I was joking around? Would he be so absorbed in his work that he never looked up at all? Would I have to beat on his head to get him to notice my duress? Would I eventually collapse and die? Would the article in the paper read Local Author Chokes to Death on Earplug? How totally humiliating!

This is what it’s like to live inside my brain. If you are not a fiction writer, enjoy your sanity!

Counting all the votes on my blog and Facebook page, it looks like this cover is the winner for the e-book reissue of The Escape Artist. First, I’ll play with it a little–soften the focus and tweak a few other things to make it more to my liking. But I do love this little guy. He is perfect for Tyler in the book.

Second place was this one, which I love as well, but she needs to have a little boy holding her hand and I couldn’t find any great stock images that convey both the feeling of this image but also have a mom and a little boy–plus the wonderful colors of her dress and suitcase.

Most of us agreed that this cover was just plain inappropriate to the story and the character who is a young and scared mom, not a slut.  When I spotted this stock image with the paintbrushes, though, I was smitten. It’s wrong for the book, however, so I’m tossing it.

Finally, several of you liked this one, which was my favorite but again wrong for the book. A couple of you mentioned the Goth/Twilight look of it and that’s an accurate assessment. I saw the timelessness, the pensiveness, the romance and the artistry. I just think it’s a pretty cover. Again, though, it’s wrong for the book, so out it goes.

Therefore, the worried little boy is the winner. . . unless I find the perfect mom-and-son-on-the-open-road picture. Thanks for helping me make the decision!

I believe this is draft #8 of The Midwife’s Confession.

Yes, all of you who are trying to write a book and believe that once you’ve typed The End you’ll have a publishable novel, you are 99 times out of 100, wrong. You have to do it again until you get it right. I think I now have TMC almost right. Because I made some huge and dramatic changes to the story, I know my editor will want some tweaking, so there will be a draft #9, no doubt about it. But here’s the good news: I loved the story before, and now I love it even more. Lots more. I also love my editor for zeroing in on exactly what the story needed, and that was more from the midwife herself, as I mentioned a few blog posts ago.

How could I have missed the need to make Noelle, the midwife, more central to the story? It was really a case of not seeing the forest for the trees and I think this happens often with novelists, which is why they need editors. (Even if you plan to self-publish, hire an editor, please. One who can see the big picture and not just the misplaced commas).

Writing Noelle’s backstory turned out to be the most enjoyable part of writing this entire book. I suddenly understood why she became a midwife, how complicated her connections were to the other characters, and just how many things she had to confess! She was a far richer character than I’d thought. She was also really annoyed with me for giving her short shrift in the original story, apparently, because just as the character Sam tormented me during one of the early drafts by changing all the character names to his, Noelle did the same thing to me a couple of days ago when I was down to the deadline wire. I was merrily typing along when suddenly I realized that every proper name in my Word document had been switched to “Noelle”. That included city names, high school names, and all capitalized “Buts.”  Example: “Noelle,” Noelle said. “We need to go to Noelle and pick up Noelle.” Yeah, that was fun to fix. Not. (Side note: if anyone knows why Word is doing this and how I can fix it, email me please!!)  It’s more than a little spooky that both Noelle and Sam are dead and they are the only characters who have pulled this stunt on me.

So I’ve turned in the book once again. I wept while writing it, and not just because Sam and Noelle were giving me a hard time, but because I found this story of mothers and daughters and best friends moving. I can’t wait till May to see if you all feel the same way.

As I’ve said so often on my blog, I love my readers!

I heard from one of them, Autumn Fenton, on Facebook today. Autumn told me that she named one of her dogs ‘Wilkes’ after CeeCee Wilkes! I think that’s a first. I’ve named a couple of my own dogs after my books (Chapel after the Chapel House in my first book, Private Relations, and Keeper after Keeper of the Light), but I’ve never before had the honor of a reader naming a pet after one of my characters. I love it!

Wilkes is the handsome Brittany Spaniel on the left, and the name of the Maltese on the right? Story. Don’t you love it?

Continuing the theme, here’s a picture of another one of Autumn’s Brittanies. Meet Ingalls. Yes, Ingalls. I’m sitting here with a big smile on my face as I type up this post.

Now, I think we need to meet Autumn herself. Here she is, decked out in a reproduction of the green drapery dress from Gone With the Wind. Autumn wrote to me, “Along with several other ‘Scarletts’, I wore the dress in 1989 in Atlanta and other places to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the film.” She also told me about the six week camping trip she and her husband enjoyed, visiting all nine locations of the Little House books. “Since my husband never read the books as a boy, I read them aloud to him as we drove west.” I have to say, her husband sounds like quite a guy!

I’d love to hear how some of you come up with names for your pets. Are you inspired by literature when it comes to naming your pups and kitties?

Thank you, Autumn, for sharing your pictures and for your great sense of humor. I hope Wilkes lives a long and happy life.

Hey, blog readers, thanks for hanging out with me this week! We’re sitting in our hotel room tonight and John just gave me a thumbs up and said “Good week!” and he’s so right. It’s been quite an experience in many ways, and I’ll never again baste a turkey without thinking of “the oven” (I’m still finding splotches of purple on my skin).  I fell in love with Rochester and the Minnesotans I’ve met and I’m so impressed with the Mayo Clinic.   Best of all, of course, was getting good news–a diagnosis I can most definitely live with and one that hadn’t before been mentioned to me as a possibility, despite the various docs I’ve seen for the symptoms. I’m very, very glad we made this trip.

On another note, I’ve been working on a difficult and crucial chapter in The Midwife’s Confession while we’ve been here. My concentration’s been a little off (understatement!) and it’s been slow going, but I’ve had this scene beautifully rendered in my mind for weeks. Tonight, though, I did a bit of research to help me flesh out the scene and learned something that totally destroyed my plans for the action. It has to do with how maternity units have changed since I worked in one. I keep picturing the unit I worked in back in the day. For the sake of moms and babies, I’m delighted so much progress has been made in supporting that post partum bond. For the sake of my story, though, bring back the old days! 

But every setback has a silver lining and the research opened up another approach to the scene–one that I think will be even better. So now I’m rewriting. Or re-re-rewriting. This is the book that just doesn’t want to end!

Have a great weekend, everyone. I can’t wait to get home to my pups!

And I was the turkey.

I met with a neurologist this morning and had a very thorough exam. He informed me I would have a “busy few days” ahead of me. He wasn’t kidding. Within minutes, a ”scheduler” had reams of paper prepared for me, outlining my testing appointments as well as instructions on how to prepare for each of the tests. I then scooted off for my bloodwork (15 vials worth!) and then on to my afternoon test, which is where the turkey comes in.

The Thermoregulatory Sweat Test. Not fun for someone who hates to be hot, but Mayo is a good place to remind oneself that other people have it lots worse. I so wish I’d been able to get a picture of myself after this test for the blog, but frankly, I was not in the mood!

So the test: first, you get naked and put a little paper cap on your head. Then you lie down on a gurney and the really nice technician places “modesty cloths” strategically over the parts of your body you’d most like covered. Then she gives you “sunglasses” to protect your eyes before spraying a beigy brown powder on all exposed skin. She slips a probe designed to keep track of your temperature in your mouth. Next, it’s into the oven–a long rectangular box filled with lights and wires and apparently, a camera, though I never did quite figure that part out.   

Music begins to play. Lots of light Sinatra-era music, although a beautiful piece from The Piano somehow worked its way in there. Then the heat lamps come on with a vengeance. I think I mentioned how I hate being hot? I’ll spare you all the mental gymastics I went through to keep my mind off the fact that I was suffocating. The objective is to stay in the box until your temperature reaches 100.4 degrees. I didn’t last quite that long, so my fingers are crossed they got the info they need.

Every few minutes, the technician opens one of the four little windows on the sides of the box and dusts more powder on whatever limb is closest to her. I felt for all the world like a turkey being basted.

About that beigy brown powder. When it gets wet, it turns purple. I looked like a giant grape by the time I was wheeled out of the oven. Then comes the shower–cue the Psycho theme music!  What a revolting mess. I feel so bad for whoever has to clean that bathroom after one of these tests.

I’m so impressed with the clockwork precision of this place. So far, everything has been done quickly and efficiently and people have been exceptionally nice, as though they love their work. Plus, the buildings themselves are stunning, and being in beautiful surroundings can only lift your spirits.

So that was my day. I want to spend a little time with the Midwife before turning in early. First test tomorrow is at 7:30 am–the middle of the night for this nightowl. 

Sleep tight, everyone.

Getting to Rochester, MN was a snap. No delays at all, and I love flying into little airports where you practically have the place to yourself and your baggage is sitting there waiting for you. I love flying, period. Sometimes when I think about the cost of airfare, I think how amazing it is that for a few hundred dollars, I can have a view of the earth from thousands of feet up. As long as the flight’s not too bumpy or too long, that’s sheer joy for me. It’s the same feeling I get when I look out at the ocean. It always reminds me of this quote: “We’re not human beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a human experience.” I find that very comforting.

Flying over Minnesota was lovely–so green and, well, full of corn. Really pretty.

Years ago, I had to take a train across New Jersey for a book event. The train was called something like “The Atlantic City Express.” AC, of course, is where people go to gamble, and the train was full of folks who were getting an early start on the fun. Playing cards were everywhere, cash and chips were changing hands, and even the porters were participating. It was clear to me, a stranger to their world, that these people did this regularly and the train was their home away from home.

That was the feeling I had on the flight between Chicago and Rochester. Not that anyone was playing cards, but just about everyone seemed to be on that flight for the same reason–to go to the Mayo Clinic. The couple in the seats in front of my were on their way from Alaska. The woman across the aisle was from Texas. A young woman who slept fitfully for the hour flight was from Maine. When I disembarked, I saw a long line of wheelchairs and airport staff waiting to transport the passengers to baggage claim and I felt humbled, grateful for whatever good health I have. I only hope my fellow flyers find their answers here.  

John and I were starving, so we had lunch at the City Cafe, which was excellent. (So strange to order iced tea and not have to add the word “unsweet” to the request.) I ate plenty since tonight is a fasting night and now I plan to do a little work. Fellow author, JoAnn Ross, shared her own Mayo experience with me and told me not to even think of working, so tonight may be my only chance to hang around with the midwife.

Tomorrow, the games begin. I’m nervous and excited and grateful for good health insurance and a partner who just really gets what it means to be supportive. 

To be continued. . .

How many of you have ever lived with mystery symptoms? A bunch of you, I bet. (They are not all in your head. I believe you!) I have some mystery symptoms that have been going on for a few years now and my doctor and I finally made the decision that I should pay a little visit to the Mayo Clinic. I hope I’ll feel up to blogging about the experience, because one of the things I’ve found most helpful in the months leading up to this decision was reading online about other people’s experiences at the Clinic. The one thing I won’t be doing is sharing specifics, though, because I’d like the doctors rather than my readers to speculate about what’s going on with this crazy body!

I was hoping to type The End (once again) on The Midwife’s Confession today, but packing, installing the housesitter, and other general nuttiness got in the way, so the midwife and all her many vices will be going with me, making my suitcase extremely heavy. Seriously, I just plunked the fat manuscript in the middle of my folded clothing and I’m not sure I’ll be able to lift the suitcase off the bed. I have no idea if I’ll have any time to take a look at the midwife and her friends while I’m away, but she’s coming with me anyway.

Tomorrow (Monday) is a travel day. I’ve heard such travel horror stories lately that I hope we reach Minnesota (cooler weather. yeah!) without any major delays. We’ve booked a nice hotel, because I want to be comfy in between the poking and prodding. Since my favorite thing about traveling is eating, I was bummed to learn that I can’t have anything good for dinner tomorrow night (no dairy, salad dressing, fat, etc) in preparation, I assume, for a mega blood draw at my examination on Tuesday. I guess that examination will tell them what tests I’ll be having the rest of the week . . .and maybe into the following week. I’ve been told to expect to be there 4 to 7 working days, so making plane and hotel reservations was a little challenging.

I’ve got to get back to packing, but I’ll keep you posted on my big adventure. In the meantime, if you have mystery symptoms I hope you have compassionate doctors, a supportive family and a good dollop of inner peace to carry you through.