The headline for this post was going to be, Just because you CAN do something, doesn't mean you should, because that's one of my favorite quotes from Jurassic Park -- the movie, not the book. I read the book once and liked it; tried to read it again and didn't finish it. Some stories are better the first time.
 
But the movie kept my attention both times I sat down to watch it and, even though it's been a few years, I've always remembered when the dreamy Dr. Ian Malcolm said that particular line. I've said the same line a few times myself. In fact, when the Good Witch told me that Jeff Goldblum (who played Malcolm) had just married a woman half his age, I said those words. It made G.W. giggle.
 
​When my friend Sue told me her son wanted to dress as a toilet bowl for Halloween, I said the line again. Sue didn't laugh -- it turns out, her son was serious -- but I still thought the words were appropriate.
 
That was before I found out that I'd remembered the line incorrectly. Now I just feel silly.
 
What Dr. Malcolm really says in the movie is, Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should, which is a perfectly fine line but so much less quotable by me. If I worked for NASA or the Information Technology & Innovation Foundation, I could drop it into the conversation now and then, but I bet no one there would giggle. They'd probably wonder why I wasn't bent over my atom-splitter, threatening mankind's very existence.
 
Because if anyone is ever foolish enough to expect me to operate potentially-deadly scientific equipment, I'm telling you now, the world should tremble. There are times in life when you know that a mistake has been made. Giving me an atom-splitter would be one such mistake. So is the yogurt in the picture above.
 
I like yogurt, I do, and Glynn likes yogurt, so he somehow thought I might like to try a new variation on that dairy-based theme. When he said he'd found a new flavor, we should each have a container, I asked, "What flavor?" Thinking we'd be testing something with blueberries in it, maybe. For me, blueberry yogurt is an adventure.
 
He told me, "Pineapple-kiwi, maybe some spinach", thinking I was distracted and wouldn't hear him properly. But one of those things wasn't like the other, my ears perked up, and I said, "SPINACH?" 
 
​I refused to taste it for a week. Even then, Glynn went first. But you know what? Once I actually tried the yogurt...it was sour, and off-putting, and I am never, ever having it again. (Glynn said it wasn't so bad. He's been known to lie.) The Dairy Scientists at Kroger knew they COULD put spinach in a yogurt -- but they never stopped to think if they should.

Now it's my turn to try my own little experiment. I've rarely given away the stories we write...okay, so my mom is the one exception...but I'm giving one away for the next three days. From March 31st to April 2nd, Twisted Games is available for free from Amazon.
 
I'm doing this because no one is buying the story, no one is READING the story (so much worse), and it needs some visibility. I think it's a fun and steamy mystery-romance-shifter tale that hasn't found an audience. Maybe with a few more reviews, it will.
 
I do this with a touch of trepidation. Some people in my writers' group tell me that free reads always result in at least a few bad reviews but I thought it was worth the gamble. After all, there might be some more good reviews offered, too.
 
​Today, the first of the giveaway days, it seems like a good idea. But to once again quote Dr. Ian Malcolm, this time from The Lost World: Jurassic Park, "Oh, yeah. Oh, ah, that's how it always starts. Then later there's running and screaming."
.

When the Good Witch called me, saying we had to get to Target STAT, I knew exactly what was going on. Target was having some kind of clearance sale, winter wear probably, coats almost certainly, and GW wanted to go out and play. Plus, she has an unnatural lust for Target popcorn.
 
There were a couple of problems with the plan as far as I was concerned. Winter wear wasn’t all that enticing at the moment and I had all of the jackets I needed. (Unless the coat I stained yesterday refuses to become pretty again. Which might very well happen because the blotch on its sleeve has a grape-y look to it.)
 
Even if this touch of purple were to become a permanent part of my wardrobe, I felt I could live with it for now. So I told G.W. to go on without me, I wanted to stay at the computer and try to get some words in. Although it’s early in the game, I told her that the Fourth Brother was moving more quickly than our last two story sequels and I had a hope that we’d get the story out sooner rather than later.
 
Since G.W. knows better than anyone how slowly Glynn and I write, she acted more than a little doubtful about our sudden burst of speed. When she scoffed, I told her that, yes, the Old Me was worthy of such disdain. The New Me was doing much better recently; in fact, the New Me was one terrific writer. If G.W. cared to argue the point, I had a recently-received email to share with her.
 
The person who wrote didn’t actually use the word, “terrific”, mind you. What he said was, You are the most awesome writer ever. Since there are a number of candidates for that title – and most of the surveys have omitted my name from the questionnaire -- I was more than a little flattered to hear this. I stopped reading the email just to savor the moment. If that had been all that was said, I’d have floated on a cloud for a week. Then the fellow added, I have not yet read your books, but….
 
I burst out laughing. I showed the email to Glynn and he started laughing, too. As it turns out, this particular correspondent loved the idea of a 19th century mail-order bride getting mistakenly hitched to seven men. But as much as he liked the idea, he hadn’t yet gone so far as to buy one of our stories.
 
G.W. laughed, too. Then she told me that we need to go to Target because Popsugar had tested a bunch of the company’s milk chocolate bunnies and proclaimed a winner. Their article was called, We Tried 10 Chocolate Easter Bunnies So You Don’t Have To, and I have to admire their courage ‘cause eating chocolate bunnies is such a struggle for most people.
 
The “near-universally reviled” selection was the Palmer Hollow Milk Chocolate Bunny. The winner was the Lindt Hollow Milk Chocolate Bunny, considered “ideal” by some testers and topping even Godiva’s offering. My friend insisted we rush off and get a supply before a Popsugar-driven crowd beat us to it. Also, she wanted to know if I’d split a popcorn with her.
 
By then, I was ready for a break. The popcorn was good. I suspect the bunnies will be better. 
 
And, just so you don’t have to, Glynn has even volunteered to test the Lindt Hollow DARK Chocolate Bunny and share his results here later. (Hint: I promise you, he’ll like it. Last year, I tell you without pride, Glynn ate and thoroughly enjoyed the Palmer Hollow Milk Chocolate Bunny. The very candy that Popsugar said “tastes like Scotch tape”.)

When I put out the Gone Fishin’ sign last week, I intended to do not much of anything for the next seven days. As I told my sweetie, Team Anne Glynn was in sore need of a little rest and relaxation. I didn’t want us to do any story plotting (I unintentionally failed at that in the middle of the first night, waking up to jot a few notes) or writing (I caught Glynn at the word processor by Day Two) or editing (Day Four, both of us, and there’s clearly something wrong with Team Anne Glynn’s ability to unwind).
 
But, secretly, there was one little something else I wanted to do during that week. I wanted to find someone to improve this website.
 
Not that there’s anything specifically wrong with the site. I just wanted it to be better, maybe a little slicker. A little less homemade. I couldn’t help but notice that some of the other writers I follow have stepped up their game – offering all kinds of things on their sites. There are videos on their sites, and audio links, and most of them have let it be known that you can follow them via almost every aspect of social media. Glynn and I are falling behind.  I knew we needed to do better.
 
My reasoning was, if I personally enjoyed videos and audio links, and stuff like that, most other people would, too. Why shouldn’t I offer such things here?
 
With this rather vague-ish goal in mind, I contacted a web designer, gave him our budget, and never heard from him again. Shortly thereafter, I contacted a different web designer, cleverly avoided sharing our financial status, and he was nice enough to respond almost immediately. He quickly determined that, while I might love cute cat videos, I didn’t have any. He also discovered that even if I enjoyed audio links, I was rather picky about them and, so, didn’t intend to use them. Then, we discussed my aversion to social media.
 
He asked, “You said you don’t currently do Instagram or Twitter or Facebook or any of the old school stuff?”
 
I hadn’t realized any of that “stuff” was already considered old school. Did that mean there was another, more cutting edge, option out there? If there was, I suspected I needed it ASAP.
Unless it was expensive. All I told the web guy was, “I lurk.”
 
“But you’ll be signing up? Posting something most days?”
 
"How much do most people post?"
 
“Most average about an hour a day, give or take.”
 
"Every day?  When do they have time to write?”
 
My friend Sue puts seven to ten hours a week into her various social media outlets, but she’s at her word processor on a full-time basis. Most days, I fight for any time to work on our projects. Maybe I'm spending too much time watching cat videos.
 
That's when the tech wizard told me, "You know, I think your website’s fine. It does its job. If I were you, I'd leave it alone.”
 
Which is what Glynn had told me, too, before I reached out to the web expert. And maybe both of them were right. After all our visitor count climbs a little each week and our newsletter is expanding its audience. But slowly, so slowly.
 
Besides, by now I wanted something to be done. Just because. (I do understand how that sounds. But still….)
 
“Let me try,” Glynn said, before rolling up his sleeves and tackling the mysteries that are part of a drag-and-drop website. When he was done doing his part, I rolled up my sleeves, too, working on some of the images that now sit at the top of our pages.
 
If you’ve been through the site before, you’ll probably notice the changes. We now have a specific page dedicated to our latest release; its header includes a picture of our cat, Zorro, back when he was a kitten. To me, it’s just as cute as some cat videos. There’s an improved Books & Such page, with clickable links on each image. On the last page, we no longer ask people to join our email list. We actually direct visitors to our newsletter sign-up form.
 
It's not the best website ever, I know that, but I like it. I feel much better. 

I mentioned I'd be away from the blog, and so I am. I haven't literally gone fishing; have you seen the price of a general fishing license? In my state, Fish and Game wants $37 for a general license. It's $24 for Community Fishing but what is Community Fishing, anyway? Also, I'd have to buy a fishing pole, a tackle box, tackle, and maybe some of those stinky little salmon eggs before I could realistically hope to actually throw a line into the water. So that was a problem.
 
A bigger problem is, all of those dollars could have gone toward the purchase of one of Mattel's new line of Fashionista Barbie Dolls. Specifically, I want one of the beautiful Tall Barbies (but only the one with the great Afro) and one of the wonderful Curvy Barbies (but only the one with the blue, black hair).
 
Those are what' I'm fishin' for. 
 
​You might wonder if I could fulfill my quest just by ordering things on-line but, if that's your thought, you clearly don't know the joy of the hunt. There's nothing like finding the object of your affection and actually holding it in your hands.  I'm happy to report, I've hooked the Curvy Barbie from the very same Target that provided me with last week's Cherry Cordial Delight Limited Edition Peeps. (Still delicious. Even more chewy today.) Now, I'm on the prowl for Tall Barbie.

​If you’ve been wandering through this website for long, you’ve probably noticed I take a little time off after we publish a new story. (The new story, if you’re wondering, is here.) I don’t vanish from AnneGlynn.com for long, a week or two at most, but I use those days to catch my breath as Glynn and I plot our next effort. It almost feels like a mini-vacation. The blog never slips from my mind and I still respond to reader or author emails as quickly as I can, but I give myself permission to skip a post or two. I was planning to do that again this week, too – maybe hang a “Gone Fishin’” sign on the blog until I returned – but then something happened that I wanted to share.
 
So here I am. The Good Witch likes it when I use this space to ramble without any real purpose. She ought to be delighted today.
 
The title above, the one that claims I lust for Peeps? It’s absolutely true. Glynn might wish I’d verbalize other, more adult lustings but he knows nothing grabs my heart like those little chick-shaped marshmallows. Not if they’re the right, little chick-shaped marshmallows.
 
At this very moment, I am oh, so happy.
 
A Peeps-based tale has to involve a back story, and here’s mine: A long time ago, in a city far away from where I live now, I happened to stumble across a new kind of Peep. Released for the Easter holidays, this particular Peep was covered in dark chocolate and I’d never tried a dark chocolate Peep. To my delight, it was delicious. That very day, dark chocolate Peeps filled my every Easter basket. Until they didn’t any longer, because one day they disappeared from store shelves.
 
Apparently, my fellow shoppers had failed to realize the dark chocolate goodness that was in front of them. The Peeps went away, a victim of poor sales from a society that doesn’t recognize joy, but my desire for them never faded. As a certain, creepy thespian once proclaimed, “The heart wants what it wants”, and my heart wanted its Peeps. Knowing the Peep Corporation had made a horrible mistake and would, some sweet day, rectify their error, I continued to look for them.
 
Not obsessively. Not like I sometimes search for a rare Monster High character or the perfect, vintage bubble-cut Barbie, but not without some genuine effort, either. When I was in a store, especially around holiday times, I invariably drifted over to the seasonal section and looked for my favorite treat.
 
No matter how often I looked, I was not successful. The day before Valentine’s Day, things changed, but not in the way I expected.
 
In our local Target, I found a new kind of Peep. Called "Cherry Cordial Delight", these marshmallows were pink-to-red in color and dipped in dark chocolate. The package claimed they were Limited Edition, but I scoffed at the claim. How many editions of anything are truly limited? Everything ends up on Amazon, sooner or later.
 
On the shelf, there were two containers of three chicks, all the store had, and I bought both of them. That night, Glynn and I shared the first trio. I discovered these new Peeps weren’t as good as the ones I used to love. They were somehow better.
 
I decided it would be a good thing to own many, many more of these, but I knew our Target store was out. There were no other Target stores in our vicinity, not even close, but I didn’t care. There were other stores that sold Peeps. The next night, Valentine’s Day, the second container had been thoroughly munched. In the morning, I went on the hunt.
 
Everyone carried Peeps, but no one carried THESE Peeps. Not the Mom and Pop stores, or the grocery stores, or the big chain stores. Not even the gas station/convenience stops that carry the funky candies that should have vanished in the ‘50s. Going on-line, I soon discovered the reason for this: Target had an exclusive on the Valentine’s Day-only Peeps. Now that Valentine’s Day was over, even Target was out.
 
I tried to order them on Amazon, and failed. Until that moment, I thought Amazon had everything. You disappointed me, Jeff Bezos, that’s all I’m saying. But I’m a big girl, I understand that I was lucky to have tried the Best Peeps in the World at all, and I wasn’t serious at all when I told Glynn, if he loved me, he’d find more.
 
Because he did try, and that’s what I wanted most. That, and more of those cherry chocolate Peeps.
 
Four days ago, I returned to my local Target to pick up some multi-vitamins. The store was clearing out old V.D. merchandise, I happened to mention the cherry chocolate Peeps to the couple in front of me, and the male half of that partnership said, “Are these those?”
 
You’ve seen the picture in the upper right. FIVE packages of cherry chocolate Peeps had escaped from the storeroom, the original price reduced by 70%, and they were on the shelf in front of me. They may have been glowing with a Heavenly light; I don’t remember for sure. Immediately, I put them in my shopping basket.
 
Inspired by my obvious enthusiasm at the find, the man in front of me picked up his own discounted package of raspberry chocolate Peeps. I think we both knew, they wouldn’t be as good as the cherry.
 
That night, I opened first of the packages. They were maybe a tiny bit chewier than ideal but, still, such a treat. And a wonderful way to start a mini-vacation.
 
Next week? Gone fishin’.