I don’t have an advanced degree in economics, I don’t work in the world of high finance, nor am I an astute investor who converses fluently about tax-frees vs. muni bonds. For all I know, they’re the same thing. But… I think I have a pretty good handle on the economic disaster that we are being asked to understand because there is a simple explanation. Doesn’t even require one of those  good- old- boys special commissions to investigate the matter and conclude that this crisis was totally avoidable. Here is what happened.

Pretend that your son, George,  borrowed your very expensive car without permission. Just took it, put 700 billion miles on it over eight years, had the absolute best time living it up, then realized that he was headed for a very steep cliff. Seconds before the car drove over the edge, he opened the door and bailed. Fell right out on his face, but, hey at least he survived. And so sure is he that you’ll be grateful that he didn’t die in the car, he goes home and asks for, no demands, right then and there, for you to give him a check so he can replace the car and get right back on the road.

Oh, and George threatens that if you dare ask a single question about the sanity of his decision, he will tell the whole world that you failed him. Furthermore, if you think you’re going to get an apology for his role in this mess, you must be joking. He knows you know what he was doing the whole time and you never put your foot down,  you just looked the other way. Why should he say he’s sorry? He’s had the best time ever!!! Now hurry and write that check.

If you’re still unsure that this was what happened to Wall Street and our banking industry, see if you think is a more reasonable explanation.

Your sons George and Dick have a gambling problem. Actually, more of an addiction, but you are loathe to talk about it because, well, you’ve got your own problems and as long as they don’t hurt anyone, hopefully they’ll outgrow this immature phase and wise up. Unfortunately, one day you learn just how big a problem your sons have because they bet the house. YOUR HOUSE. Yep, sold it right out from under you so that they could continue to roll the dice at their favorite casino, the U.S. Congress.

Furthermore, they want you to bail them out today, no questions asked, because they know, and you have to believe them…  if they can just get right back to the tables, it will eventually be their lucky night and they promise to pay you back.  You just have to understand that they can’t tell you how much they’ll win back or when.

And one more thing. It’s possible that the $700 billion they need might only be a down payment because well, there were two other casinos called Iraq and Afghanistan, where they lost upwards of $10 billion a month, and um, they will need some help paying for that as well.

As if this isn’t bad enough, they are secretly working out a plan where as soon as you give him the money to pay back these unfathomable debts, they’re going to head right back to the tables so they can play for even higher stakes because that’s what gambling addicts do. They make sure that no matter what, they stay with the action.

Got it? That’s what happened. Class dismissed. Anyone know where to find the principal’s office? No one is ever going to believe this story.

What a fun weekend I had, surrounded by book people. You know who you are…. those wonderful folks who inhale books and like angels, help spread the word when you find ones you love!  God bless your inquisitive souls and generous beings. Without you, writers would spend all of their time complaining about the difficulties of promoting their work, instead of the typical 80% of the time, lol. Anyway, here is how it unfolded:

Thursday Night: Leslie Carroll at The Book Revue in Huntington, New York

Leslie Carroll and Me at Book Revue

I had the honor of introducing my friend and fellow author, Leslie Carroll, who appeared at the magical Book Revue in Huntington on Thursday night. If you are not familiar with her work, please, please look for her. She is immensely talented and prolific, having turned out eleven wonderful books since 2002. I am no math whiz, but isn’t that more than one a year? Some people can’t write that many letters, let alone clever and compelling stories. And here is the really amazing part. She writes fun fiction: CHOOSING SOPHIE, PLAY DATE and SPIN DOCTOR (Avon), plus historical romance under her pen name Amanda Elyot:  TOO GREAT A LADY: THE NOTORIOUS, GLORIOUS LIFE OF EMMA, LADY HAMILTON; and ALL FOR LOVE: THE SCANDALOUS LIFE AND TIMES OF ROYAL MISTRESS MARY ROBINSON.

g

Now comes her latest and perhaps greatest, her non-fiction debut: ROYAL AFFAIRS: A Lusty Romp Through The Extramarital Adventures That Rocked The British Monarchy (NAL).  Say that fast ten times!!!  I was blown away by Leslie’s encyclopedic knowledge of juicy sex scandals spanning from 1154 (The Angevins) right up to the gossipy tales of Charles and Diana. Do not, I repeat, do not play Trivial Pursuit with Leslie if the subject matters concern British mistresses,  murders, betrayals, trysts, serial adulterers,favorite consorts of the Kings and assorted royal Bastards. She will win.

Leslie meets and greets her royal following

Meanwhile, this latest book, Royal Affairs (NAL, June ‘08) is a fascinating, colorful, eye-popping look at sex and love in Great Britain, but not necessarily under the same covers. Trust me, we never learned this stuff in Social Studies because THIS we would have remembered. For more details, check out her website: www.tlt.com/authors/lesliecarroll.htm and her enjoyable blog. www.leslie-caroroll.blogspot.com

Friday Night: Temple Beth Torah, Melville, New York

My synagogue kicked off a wonderful new program called Shabbat at Six- a quick nosh, followed by a beautiful Kabbalat service, followed by a yummy dinner (best hummus this side of Tel Aviv) and an entertaining speaker. Moi! Thank you to all the Temple members and friends who spent the evening with me, and who spoke so highly of my new baby. I could have danced all night….

I want to also thank Rabbi Marc Gellman (a prolific author himself) and Rabbi Susie Moskowitz for giving me the chance to talk about the writer’s life and my latest book, DEAR NEIGHBOR, DROP DEAD.  Rabbi Gellman’s introduction was so flattering, I got nervous and thought it might be my eulogy. Rabbi Moskowitz moderated and asked such good questions, she had me sweating. Should I have studied before I got there?

Great question. Wish I had the answer!

I also want to thank the I-can-do-that-no-problem Audrey Frank for coordinating all the details, including getting HarperCollins to deliver copies of all four of my novels in time for the program in record time.  I said it couldn’t be done and she proved me wrong!

Me and the Mighty Audrey Frank

Sunday Morning, North Shore Synagogue, Syosett, New York

When my friend and Sisterhood President, Pam Dreisinger, invited me to return to speak to her members, I was thrilled. This was my third visit since 2002, when A LITTLE HELP FROM ABOVE, came out, and these ladies LOVE books.  Even better, they love MY books.  We discussed family life, neighbors, stress, politics and how hard it is to find time for yourself when EVERYONE depends on you… your husband, your kids, your parents, your friends, your school, your church or Temple… it’s amazing what we pack into a day.

That’s why I was so thrilled to have such a great turnout. It’s wonderful to look out and see all those smiling, nodding people… and it was 9:00 in the morning!!! But here was the real day brightener. A wonderful woman named Barbara, showed up with a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee for me- just the way I like it. Medium hazelnut, light with half and half, no sugar. I thought I was dreaming!. Thank you Barbara.

I can do anything after Dunkin' Donuts Coffee!!!!

Me and Suzanne and Suzannne

I had intended to write about the man behind the curtain, The Wizard of Ick, Dr. Phil. Seems the prolific one has a new book out, which probably took three days to assemble, maybe less if he cut and paste from his previous other titles, Life Strategies and Self Matters. This latest masterpiece is called Real Life: Preparing for the 7 Most Challenging Days of your Life, and it sure sounds like another best seller. With the right attitude and the right information, every challenging day can be turned into a valuable life experience.  Now that is brilliant, Dr. Phil. So insightful. So wise… so clear that you needed the money FAST to help finance your possible split from Robin after all the vicious name calling.

Just wondering… Will Dr. Phil be following his own advice to suck it up and negotiate during what will likely be one of the nastiest divorces of the decade? And how will he adjust after the millions of viewers who thought he was the Marriage Messiah discover that he’s like everyone else’s ex- a self-asborbed, egotistical jerk? Maybe it’s just me, but I think the curtain should have been pulled back years ago on this fraud when he  started reducing women to tears while gloating because the harder the cry, the better the ratings.

Meanwhile, I have decided NOT to write about the great author/talkshowhost Dr. Phil because we have much bigger fish to fry, like the name calling frenzy that is going on with the election. No sense carrying on about who started it first. Both campaigns are doing it and the word slinging is escalating. And unfortunately, it’s not like one of those fights with your siblings that ends IMMEDIATELY when your mom breaks it up by sending both of you to your rooms. This is more gut wrenching because it is stemming from a very angry place in both camps, and subsequently, neither side is listening.

Come to think of it. Maybe it is just like when we were kids. You remember the scene. You are out of your mind angry at your little brother for breaking one of your toys and all you want to do is bop him over the head with a firetruck, but if you do that, you will be in BIG trouble, so instead you use the only weapon in your arsenal, your mouth, and you call him a big fat doody ball with boogers, and he cries and runs to your mom, big crocodile tears streaming down his little face, and says MOMMY, SHE CALLED ME A BAD NAME!!!! You know what happens next. Sargeant Mom shows up and it doesn’t matter that your little brother is an out of control monster, you’re gonna get spanked if you don’t cut it out.

Yesterday in Wasilla, 1400 people showed up to protest Palin’s candidacy carrying signs that read, “Barbies for War”, “Fess Up About Troopergate”, etc. Nothing terrible, really, but Eddie Burke, a local conservative radio talkshow host called them all a bunch of socialist, baby-killing maggots.” Really? Was that necessary, Eddie? And a guy with a bullhorn drove by and shouted, “Go back to the city, you liberal Communists.” Oooh. A liberal commie? No pinko?

On the Dem side, the Palin pouncing is palpabable, starting with making fun of her picked a pickled pepper’s kids names. Say that fast 10 times. Anyway, they are pulling her apart at every campaign stop, referring to her as MooseMama and Drill Saregant and the former Senator Lincoln Chaffee called her a cocky whacko. And of course there was that whole pig on a lipstick nonsense, which was EXACTLY like what your kid brother would do when he wanted retaliation. He’d make something up that wasn’t true but he knew it would get your mom so crazed, he’d  get two desserts at dinner and you’d lose TV privileges.

Seems what this whole election has come down to is pushing each others buttons because it’s illegal to hit someone over the head with a toy truck. Don’t get me wrong. I shudder at the very idea of a possible Palin Presidency and her cabinet consisting of her entire graduating class at Wasilla High because who needs people in charge who have education and experience? But that being said, I don’t want to spend the next six weeks listening to nasty, heated, mean spirited words being exchanged that do nothing to further the real conversation that MUST take place.

If I was in charge, I would make Johny and Barack go to their rooms and not come out until they promised to be nice, shake hands and tell the truth about what they’re going to do to solve the dozens of urgent problems we’re facing. First one to lie gets their mouth washed out with soap. First one to call the other a bad name gets grounded. Do you hear me boys????  I’m not kidding. Be nice. You’re brothers!”

Sorry Senator Phil Gramm. We are not a nation of whiners, we a nation of doers and givers. Regardless of how we vote, how we live or how we think, we are a people who work tirelessly to help those in need, whether they are family and friends, the neighbor down the block or total strangers. If asked, we give and give generously whether it is our time, our food, our labor or our money. And while we all have our pet charities or causes, there are times when we are asked to open our homes, our hearts and our wallets to help alleviate a grave need we had no idea that even existed.

This was what happened to me yesterday when I met with a group of women with whom I have had the pleasure of being associated with for the past five years. Founded by my dear friend and mentor, Dr. Mickey Pearlman, we call ourselves the Power Punch and though the original idea was to network with others involved in publishing, it has emerged into a real roll- up- your- sleeve gang who among other things, walks for breast cancer, raises money to fight human trafficking, and who help children in any way we can.

Yesterday, we were joined by the lovely and generous Maria Pignataro, a public relations expert who volunteers for the Pajama Program, a national organization that delivers sleepwear and books to children who live in shelters and orphanages. Oprah, along with dozens of corporate sponsors, support this worthy cause by donating money to buy PJ’s and books, but the greatest source of help comes from families like yours and mine.

Why is the need so great? Because without donations, there are an estimated 180,000 children who sleep in  street clothes or underwear. In fact, many don’t even know what pajamas are. The founder, Genevieve Piturorro, realized how great the need when she visited a center for children whose parents were in prison. She handed a small girl a pair and offered to read her a story. The girl was puzzled and had no idea what these strange clothes were for. When asked what she normally slept in, she said her pants, as if everyone does this. Needless to say a new charity was formed.

 Here is how you can help. Just ask your friends, families, clubs and organizations to send new/unopened childrens pajamas and books. Or next time your child has a birthday party or celebration, ask each guest to bring one new pair of pj’s and a book for either a boy or girl (although everyone enjoys picking out the adorable choices for infants and toddlers, it is actually the older children ages 10-17, who have the greatest need).  For more information, the website is www.pajamaprogram.org.

The mailing address is Pajama Program Reading Center , 345 Oak Hill Road, Red Bank, NJ 07701. Attention: Geri Schleich, Director.

Do this one good deed and it promises sweet dreams for children whose days are rough. Their nights shouldn’t be too.

Ever since my dentist started bribing me with laughing gas, the stress of sitting in his chair is gone. Plus, I get pearl white teeth AND a nice little buzz… Just wish I’d had my little high while I was checking out the magazines in his waiting room. Page after page were ads directed to women like me- aging soccer moms who looked in the mirror one day and said OMG, I can’t pass for 35 anymore. Wait. 45 might be a stretch, too!

Fortunately, according to the ads, there are surgeons who can perform so many miracles, well, it’s a miracle.  It’s like showing up at the supermarket and discovering a whole vanity aisle…. facelifts, liposuction, mesotherapy, permanent lash extensions, threadlifts, veneers, spray tanning and my personal favorite, laser tattoo removal. Then, of course, there is the meat and potatoes procedure- Botox.

Trouble is, not only are these turn-back-the-clock services out-of-pocket expensive, shhhhh, there are risks. Medical researchers now suspect that Botulinim toxin type-A, the active ingredient in Botox, might be leaking into the temporal lobes, giving a whole new meaning to the term “brain freeze”. Some choice we get. Lose some brain function or show up at your next high school reunion with a pleated shade where your forehead used to be.

No wonder all of these ads offer a complimentary consultation. This way, if you’re on the fence about spending the money or going under the knife, the caring staff gets a chance to point out the obvious- ya ain’t what ya used to be, darlin! It also explains the tempting headlines: LOVE THE WAY HE SMILES AT YOU NOW!  Is that because you have a steak in one hand and a beer in the other? YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO. Yes I do. I want to slap the girls who swear they’ve had nothing done after disappearing for a week… WANT TO KNOW HOW SHE DOES IT? Do tell. How does my neighbor juggle an affair with her trainer and still find the time to run the holiday gift wrap sale? ONE WEEK TO A NEW YOU! But I don’t want a new me. I want a new couch for the den and friends who won’t forget my birthday

 But lest you think that it’s just the aging mom who is fighting the good fight, guess what? Cosmetic surgeons now offer the New Mommy Makeover. Yep. Ditch your baby with your parents and step right up for your  tummy tuck, a little liposuction, a breast lift or implants- all to transform you from new mom to M.I.L.F. Exactly! What could possibly be more important to you at this exciting time in your life than making sure that every daddy in the neighborhood has you on his Mommy Fantasy team?

And brides, no need to feel left out. Any woman with a credit card can pick out a Vera Wang gown and be transformed my hair and make-up, but apparently that’s leaving a lot to chance. Now surgeons offer a special pre-nup package to insure that your soon-to-be-husband doesn’t have any second thoughts about marrying you while you’re walking down the aisle. My question is, will he even recognize you after your Botox treatment, your breast augmentation, your lipo procedure, your microdermabrasion, your PhotoRejuvination, peels and that all important laser hair removal? Lucky guy, your husband. All he had to do to get ready for the wedding was pick out a tux and get a decent hair cut.

Don’t misunderstand. It’s not that I think that women who elect for these procedures are wrong. It’s just that I resent being made to feel bad if I don’t decide to fight the bags under my eyes, the hair over my lips and the cellulite on my thighs like it’s the war on terror. I also wish that the take-home message was different. That happiness will forever elude us if we opt to be a fixer-upper instead of a woman in mint condition.

Here’s my theory. Do your best to eat right, exericise, and pamper yourself with whatever makes you feel good about yourself. But more important, be good to the people in your life because then you’re a real beauty! Besides, you may be able to spend thousands to fool the mirror, but you can never fool the stairs!

I’m a huge fan of the New York Times and am thrilled that modern technology has worked its magic so that I can buy it just about anywhere I travel outside of NY, or even better, get it on line. What’s the great appeal? I’m crazy about the OP-ED pages, the sports section offers lots of great coverage and smart commentary-AND by reading the front page every morning, I can find out who is going to have a worse day than me. 

But there is something else I have always found comforting about reading the Times. No matter how disturbing the headlines, no matter how grave the pictures, the second I open up the paper, I can temporarily forget about the world’s ills and focus instead on something uplifting- the latest luxury goods being hawked by Cartier and BVlgari. I have been eyeing these showy ads for thirty years and they always beg the question, how bad can things be if there are still people who are interested in buying a Rado Sintra Jubile Pink watche for $6200? Or a Chanel pocketbook for $2495?  And what about the throngs who will rush through Tiffany’s doors after seeing the ad for the Jean Schlumberger paillonne enamel bangles in 18k gold with tsavorites and diamonds which start at a mere $27,000 and go up to $70,000? (Quick. Does anyone actually know what a tsavorite is?)

If this all seems too rich for your blood, not to worry. Bloomingdales is selling the new Sovage Eyelash Maximizer, a scientifically proven European breakthrough that can build strong lashes 12 ways. It’s only $90 and what’s this? For another $90 you can buy its handy cousin, the Eyebrow Volumizer. Ladies, do not go another day with out thick, sensual brows. Actually, I can’t believe THIS wasn’t a headline on the front page: Bushy Brows are Back- Waxing is So Yesterday.

I kid, but it does make you wonder. Who are these people who are SO rich that they can mutter under their breath that global warming is destroying the earth, the government is another name for unorganized crime, the banks are crashing, but look dear, weren’t you just saying that you needed black patent pull on booties? Here’s a pair for only $695. Since they’re so reasonable, maybe you should order a second pair in brown. And look. Salvatore Ferragamo has a matching python frame tote with patent woven detail for $3,150.

For fun, I added up the retail value of all the luxury items advertised on the first two pages of today’s paper and guess what I could have spent if I filled out every credit card application that was sent to me in the last week? $26,623. Plus tax. And delivery fees. But hey, money is no object unless you’re one of those whose names appeared on the front page who is in the process of losing his proverbial shirt.

I am not envious. I simply marvel that we live in a world where there are those for whom this sort of purchasing habits don’t even make a dent. Meanwhile, I get downright giddy when I see that TJ Maxx just got in a shipment of designer handbags that are a steal. Oh, and Target has cute black booties for $39.

Each to their own. All I know is that if my visualization plan really works, and one day my book does end up on the Times Best Seller List, I am NEVER going to blow my hard earned royalties on a pocketbook that cost more than my four years of college. If someone wants to give me one as  gift, that is another matter entirely.

Athletes have their pinnacles of success- the World Series, the Superbowl, the Olympics.  The entertainment world has the Oscars, the Emmy’s, the Tonys. Journalists have their Pulitzer Prizes. And authors? We have friends who buy our books and the chance every week to make it on to the famed New York Times Best Sellers List, which is about the same odds as finding a winning lottery ticket in your pocketbook every time you look for gum.

Each Sunday I pore over the new list to see if by some miracle my name appears and my publisher somehow forgot to mention it. But once again I’m like the wallflower author pouring punch in the corner while other writers are the ones rubbing elbows with big deal editors and agents.

How DO they do it? There are all kinds of conspiracy theories on how books make this elusive list, sort of like finding out the real ingredients in the Colonel’s secret recipe. I have no idea if  publishers really do manipulate the numbers, or if the Times does play favorites or if booksellers actually fudge the numbers based on lucrative distribution deals. All I know is that after twenty years of writing books, I still haven’t made it on to the guest list.

Is this a little bit of sour grapes?  Absolutely. Next week’s list will have Tori Spelling’s STORI TELLING in the #1 spot for hardcover non-fiction, bumping off THE OBAMA NATION, which is so filled with lies and make believe, it should actually be in the science fiction category. Stephanie Meyer’s teen vampire novels are bloody long and infantile and oh goody, between Nicholas Sparks and Jodi Picoult, they take up five different spots on the list.

What’s a mid-list author to do? What else? I’m going to follow the advice of wish-fulfillment guru, Rhonda Byrne, whose book THE SECRET has been on the Times Best Seller List for 85 weeks.  She says all I have to do is close my eyes and visualize my new novel, DEAR NEIGHBOR, DROP DEAD on the list, and voila, I’m in. It’s so simple I can’t believe I didn’t do this sooner.

I’m closing my eyes now and OMG, I can see it.  Good-bye MEMORY KEEPER’S DAUGHTER, which has been on the list for a ridiculous 51 weeks. See you later WATER FOR ELEPHANTS (also for 51 weeks), THE ALCHEMIST (50 weeks) and what’s this? I’m at the top of the list? Amazing! Now I can go out and buy that new dress for the dance, and maybe for Oprah.

In fact, if the whole visualization thing is a bust, I’ll be happy to settle for my runner-up dream. Being an Oprah Book Pick.  Gotta start somewhere.

I didn’t start blogging so I could add to the moutainous heap of political talk. I wanted to keep these posts light and funny to build an audience for my books, not piss people off if our views differed. But this is what I’m learning as I go. As the presidential race shifts into high gear, I’m like that mutt on the porch who spotted a designer dog and I not only want to bark, I want to leap over the fence and chase it. This politcal cartoon by Patrick O’Connor from the Los Angeles Daily News says it best.

In asking Sarah Palin to be on the ticket, John McCain didn’t just speed-date with a running mate, he hired an attack dog. And as I trust he will soon discover that even the best trained doggies bite their masters on the ass.  Here is why I think Sarah Palin will NOT turn out to be the dutiful, beautiful pet he thought he could keep by his side to occassionally yelp at the media and the Dems. She lacks the 4 E’s:

Folks at Best Buy Listen Up!!!! If people can carry a device that is smaller than a deck of cards, yet be able to phone home, snap a picture of a cute guy at Starbucks, retrieve email and tune into CNN, is it too much to ask for some gizmo-geek in Seattle to head to his garage and invent a micro size bullshit detector?

Given that we are at the start of one of the most important elections in our country’s history, and that politicians are already dropping not-even-close-to-the-truth statments faster than we can shovel, we really need help.

Here is how it would work. Every time a politician got hooked up to a microphone, a tiny chip would be embedded into their mouthpiece. Every time they said something that wasn’t true, the bullshit detector would trigger a warning light on a little box that was placed right over their made-in-China American flag lapel pin. The lights would be color-coded, just like the ingenious system our crack Homeland Security agency created:

AMBER: Uh oh. There is more fudge than at a Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.

BLUE:  Hello?  There’s not even a morsal of truth in what you said, but nice try and thanks for playing.

YELLOW:  You do realize you are totally contradicting yourself. Last month you said the exact opposite. Who do you think you are? Bill O’Reilly?

RED: STOP!!! You are lying and you know it. You should be ashamed of yourself. Wait until your father gets home. Until then, go to your room!

And how about this? With the deluxe model of the OMG 2000 BS Detector (batteries not included), every time the red light goes off, the politician has to immediately apologize or get tasered by a trigger-happy off-duty cop who just had a few beers with his buddies.

Don’t you think that this would make the upcoming debates so much more interesting, say nothing of honest?  Don’t you think we deserve the truth? Of course we do, and just think of the possibilities if we could also play the at-home game version with our spouses, kids, neighbors and co-workers?

Gotta love that ninth commandment: thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor. Pity that today it would take electronic surveillance to insure it.  Check out last night’s speeches from the RNC.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20080904/ap_on_el_pr/cvn_fact_check

Oy is right.