Susan M. Boyer

USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Agatha Award Winner

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Susan M. Boyer

USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Agatha Award Winner

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Nobody Leaves Here Pretty

November 5, 2009 in Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie, Thoughts on Books Read

The voices in my head are singing Be as You Are by Kenny Chesney

What I’m reading: For Better, For Murder by Lisa Bork

First, the book. I met Lisa at Bouchercon at a Sisters in Crime lunch. She’s a very warm and gracious person, so I was predisposed to like the first book in the Broken Vows series. I would have loved it anyway–she had me when the dead body flopped out of a Ferrari in the showroom on page three.

So, Precariously Perky Julie tried to kill me at Jazzercise today. I think she might have been trying to commit a suicide dance, because at one point I heard her mutter something about a having a coronary herself. She had chocolate over the weekend–Halloween and all, so we had to pay.

PPJ is a sweet spirit. She’s always smiling–bubbling, actually–even as she pushes us ever closer to a synchronized cardiac incident. (She did growl at me one day last week because I wasn’t sweating enough, but that’s unusual.)

But PPJ has the soul of a dancer. She knows all the real ballet names for the moves we do–in some foreign ballet language. Maybe Russian. Anyway, she’s serious about her dancing. She always picks the songs with the most intricate footwork for her sets. The ones where you change what you’re doing every four beats.

None of that dancing on autopilot while I zone out and dream of Mega Moo Mocha Moolattes. No. I have to PAY ATTENTION. I have to listen to her cuing. This is stressful.

She is also serious about the sweating. Today, someone in the back wasn’t disheveled enough to suit her towards the end of class. That caused her to drop the bubbling and growl. “Hey,” she yelled, “nobody leaves here pretty.” That’s never a problem with me.

I do vex PPJ, though, I think. She seems to hold the opinion that I am sandbagging. She keeps trying to sell me a Polar watch to make sure my heart rate is high enough. There’s an alarm on those things for when your heart rate gets too high. I tried to tell her that fool alarm would be going off all during class, on account of I’m always in the blue on the perceived exertion chart–that’s the border color across the top, just above the maximum exertion before passing out.

Do you know what she said? “Oh, we’ll just turn that off. That’s what I did with mine.” It’s nice to know she cares.

The rumor is the Queen of Pain will soon be back from her Alien Birthing Ritual–actually, it’s not a rumor, she told me that herself. It was either a warning or a threat, I’m not sure which.

Meanwhile, I continue to test Precariously Perky Julie’s sunny disposition in my quest to become less VOLUPTUOUS while not needing EMTs to cart me out of there on a stretcher.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie, Thoughts on Books Read Tagged With: Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie, Thoughts on Books Read

Just One of the Many Reasons Why I Love My iPhone

September 17, 2009 in Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie

The voices in my head are singing These Days, by Jackson Browne

What I’m reading: Smash Cut by Sandra Brown

When they first came out with text messaging I said, “That’s like going back to the telegraph days. Why would I want to do that?”

When they added cameras to phones, I said, “I like my technology simple. Give me a phone that’s just a phone, for crying out loud.”

When they added email, I said, “Why in Sam Hill would I want my email on my phone, and who can read stuff that small anyway?”

When they came out with the iPhone, I forgot all of that idiocy and sprinted into the twenty-first century. It’s all about the music.

But, I have embraced all the other features as well. That camera comes in handy. For example, imagine how long it would have taken me to describe what we did in Jazzercise today:
This is Precariously Perky Julie demonstrating part of today’s ab routine. “Make sure your head is comfortably supported by the ball,” she said.
Clearly, she is insane. In what universe is anything about that move comfortable?
And this was just the starting position…imagine striking this torture pose, then doing crunches, and (yes, we used the hand weights) pec flys…
Appropriately, this routine is set to Dream Big, by Ryan Shupe and the Rubberband.
Believe it or not, I did this. It might not have LOOKED exactly like the picture… probably Julie bit a hole in the side of her cheek to keep from laughing.
But I did it.
The Queen of Pain is finishing up another Alien Birthing Ritual, and will be out for a few more weeks. Meanwhile, I’m entertaining myself by testing Julie’s sunny disposition… Bless her perky little heart.
Peace, out…
Susan

Filed Under: Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie Tagged With: Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie

On the Road Again

June 17, 2009 in Jazzercise, Road Trip, The Queen of Pain

The voices in my head are singing My Baby Don’t Tolerate, by Lyle Lovett

What I’m reading: Relentless by Dean Koontz

Predictably, I had to rush right out and buy the new Dean Koontz novel (along with the new Michael Connelly, which is next up). Koontz didn’t disappoint. Like most of his books, Relentless will be a Shelfari favorite. I just wish these guys could write faster.

And hey, Carl Hiaasen, I’d really like a new adult novel, please. I know your young adult books are fabulous, and the non-fiction golf thing is brilliant, but I’m neither a young adult nor a golfer. Please pull a few hilariously demented characters out of your head and get them on paper. Lickety-split.

This week I’m in Warsaw, Indiana, with Jim. Business trip for him, writer’s retreat for me. Hotel rooms, I may have said before, are the absolute best places for me to write. I can’t clean my house, run errands, do laundry, run out and have lunch with a friend, or any one of a hundred other things that pop up that keep me from putting words on the page.

Or go to Jazzercise, which is the one other thing I need to be doing. In anticipation of this problem, however, I ordered three Jazzercise DVDs, reasoning that I could dance in a hotel room, right?

Well, not so much, really.

I started with Street Jazz! I’m always hassling Casey for some funk in her sets, so I picked this one first. The tag line specifically promises “street jam movements using a combination of jazz dance, hip hop, and funk.”

I had NO idea how much your average Jazzercise instructor has to dummy this stuff down for ex-majorettes, cheerleaders, and drill team members across the country. I have a new appreciation for the Queen of Pain and all the other aliens who translate the moves that look like an MTV video played in fast forward into something the rest of us can attempt.

If I play the DVD in slow motion, I can maybe learn a section a day. I’m trying, anyway.

The other thing I hadn’t figured on was that in class, while Casey has to look at what I’m doing and not double over laughing (too often), in a hotel room, I have to watch myself. There’s a big mirror. This is so not pretty.

Anyway, I’m writing, and I’m dancing. (Well, I’m moving to music, and in some cultures, I’m sure what I’m doing is called dancing.)

All is right with the world.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Jazzercise, Road Trip, The Queen of Pain Tagged With: Jazzercise, Road Trip, The Queen of Pain

Defying the Laws of Physics…Yet Again (Y’all REALLY Won’t Believe This)

February 5, 2009 in Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

The voices in my head are singing Keep It Loose, Keep It Tight by Amos Lee

What I’m Reading: Winter’s Child, by Margaret Maron

One of the most heinous tricks in the Jazzercise manual is where they take a perfectly good song, like Mary J. Blige’s Family Affair, and make you perform unnatural acts to it. The Queen of Pain currently has Family Affair in her set.

Visualize yourself doing this: Put on some ankle weights–about 4-5 pounds on each ankle will do. Get down on your hands and knees. Now, stick a leg straight out (either one, cause you’ll switch back and forth). Move your leg from the hip, and tap your toe out to the side, then straighten, lift, point, lower and repeat. Do this 5,000 times.

Now, with your leg still behind you, do PUSH-UPS while curling your leg toward the ceiling–yep–one of the two with a weight on it. Repeat, switch, etc. for FOUR MINUTES AND TWENTY-SIX seconds. Trust me, it will seem more like four hours. Try it.

On Monday, when I heard the opening beats of Family Affair, I reminded the QOP right off that A) my ankle weights have been mislaid, and B) I DON’T DO PUSH-UPS on account of the built in weights I sport on my chest make it impossible, from the whole gravity and physics perspective. She growled that I could do SOME of them, so I did. Three, I think. It was exhausting.

Yesterday, when the music started, she growled at me that I was going to do ALL FORTY-EIGHT push-ups. I laughed out loud. If she had asked me to run around the ceiling I would have taken her as seriously. I pointed out the obvious, and reminded her that she well knew this was not workable.

“Shut up and do them,” she said. “All of them.”

Here’s the part y’all won’t believe: I did.

Here’s what I learned at Jazzercise yesterday. Sometimes you should just shut up and do it.

At the beginning of class she asked me what I’d been doing all day. “Editing,” I said.

This was true–sort of–in a metaphorical kind of way. What I had been editing (or trying to edit) were my career goals. I’ve been rewriting the same novel for several years, trying to get the first one just right. (As I understand it, some writers put their first book or three in a drawer never to see the light of day and publish their second or fourth novel, and others write the same novel many times until they have it right. I’ve always thought of myself as being in the latter group.)

It’s REALLY difficult to get a first novel sold in a good economy. When the economy is tight, well, it just gets harder. So, I’ve been trying to convince myself that I want to do something else–anything else. I have had zero luck with this. I am a writer. I need to write. I need to publish what I write, because, as Leonard Pitts allows, “…a writer without readers is like shouting in an empty room.” That’s where you get your loons, and Lord knows, I teeter precariously on that brink to begin with.

So today, I will just shut up and do it.

Everything you need to know about life you can learn at Jazzercise…

Well, okay, maybe not, but you can learn to pole dance (which is a good backup career plan–it’s recession proof) and you get an occasional kernel of philosophy.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain Tagged With: Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

Suicide by Grammy

February 4, 2009 in Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie

Okay, so, I KNOW better than to go to Precariously Perky Julie’s class. We’ve covered this, right? I planned ahead to go see The Caring and Nurturing One at 4:30. But then I lost track of time. Nothing to do but show up for Julie’s class, knowing full well this was suicide. Lest you think I exaggerate, at one point during the class she pipes up with, “Those of you who are grabbing your heart, please make sure it’s still beating.”

Julie likes themed sets. Today’s theme was the upcoming Grammy awards. All of the songs we danced to are nominated for a Grammy. All I can say is that the music industry appears to be experiencing an up-tempo trend. Julie was dancing so fast I couldn’t see her feet move. But, she looked good doing it. I feel sure that the moves didn’t look the same from the stage. I was on the front row. Honestly, I don’t know how she kept a straight face.

There was one slow song–the very last one. It was a stretch/core muscle routine to Gravity by John Mayer. Nothing could have been more appropriate. Standing on one foot while contorting my body, using a hand weight to work my arms, and remembering to point my toes and “make it look pretty” challenged the law of gravity…and reason.

Julie has these pre-printed “Valentines Day wish cards” for us to give our significant others so instead of flowers (which will die) and candy (which will make us fat) our loved ones can get us a gadget that looks like a watch but monitors your heart rate and counts calories burned. If they make a model that has an alarm for when you’re about to pass out, I might could use one.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie Tagged With: Jazzercise, Precariously Perky Julie

Cramming

January 29, 2009 in Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

The voices in my head are singing Keep Me in Your Heart by Warren Zevon.

What I’m reading: Your Heart Belongs to Me by Dean Koontz

I came across a quote today that really struck a chord with me:

“If you stuff yourself full of poems, essays, plays, stories, novels, films, comic strips, magazines, music, you automatically explode every morning like Old Faithful. I have never had a dry spell in my life, mainly because I feed myself well, to the point of bursting. I wake up early and hear my morning voices leaping around in my head like jumping beans. I get out of bed to trap them before they escape.” Ray Bradbury

I think for too long I’ve been starving myself, always being afraid to read too much while I was writing. I had the idea it would mess with my voice. Don’t get me wrong, I devour fiction. But I’ve been in the habit of stockpiling books and waiting until I’m in an editing cycle before I read them.

I’ve officially abandoned that policy, and am going to gorge myself daily with everything imaginable. I’m hoping my morning voices will wake me and haul me out of bed to capture all their insanity. Right now I’m engrossed in Dean Koontz’s latest. He’s one of my three or four favorite authors of all time. Who are the others? Okay, I have eclectic reading tastes. In no particular order, I also get email alerts from Barnes and Noble when Carl Hiaasen, Sandra Brown, or Michael Connelly has a new book coming out. I also love John D. McDonald’s Travis McGee series.

Did I dance today? Well yes, I did. I have several sore muscles for my efforts, although, I have to say, I’m not particularly fond of the set the Queen of Pain is currently using. With one or two exceptions, the songs don’t speak to me. This is unusual, as typically I really like her music.

Note: If I were the alien on the stage, I’d pick the songs I liked, not some whiny, VOLUPTUOUS woman who shows up erratically.

But I have discovered that not liking the music is not necessarily a bad thing. When the music moves me, I forget my sore muscles, and what a spectacle I’m likely making of myself, and shake shake shake my…well, you get the idea. This is a much more exhausting workout. When I don’t like the music as much, I don’t push myself. It’s not a conscious decision, it’s just the way it works out.

It’s actually a good thing that she doesn’t have my favorites in. I might hurt myself. I need to work up to the funk.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain Tagged With: Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

So Much is Explained

January 27, 2009 in Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

With all the financial news, folks getting sworn in, and Brittney’s latest lyric scandal, y’all might have missed the most important item in the news today.

There is a VIRUS that causes folks to be fat, and it’s HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS!! You can catch it from someone in the office, on a plane, or in the mall. If you have cold symptoms, YOU may have this adenovirus. I am not making this up, and I did not hear about it in a forwarded email. It was on the news.

I tried to explain this to Casey (the Queen of Pain) today at Jazzercise, but she would have none of it. My first day back, and she had me doing pushups. I have explained to her on NUMEROUS occasions why it defies the law of gravity for VOLUPTOUS women to do push-ups, but she didn’t want to hear about this either.

She may have been distracted by all the excitement at Jazzercise Fitness Center today. January is like Christmas for anyone selling skinny. They have a new program–their version of “The Biggest Loser.” There are cash prizes involved, so I’m thinking I might sign up. They were selling this hard today. They also had balloons, drawings for prizes, and–get this–PASTRIES. What is up with that? It’s like they were trying to pork us up as big as possible so all the pounds they sweat off us will be more dramatic. These aliens are sneaky. Anyone who doesn’t understand that Jazzercise instructors are mostly aliens, please read this.

They were also having one of those of those, “haul your friends in here and blackmail them with whatever you’ve got on them until they sign up and we’ll give you a T-shirt” deals. Hazardously- perky Julie (who owns the place) was behind the desk practically percolating with enthusiasm over all the exciting ways they want to torture us into smaller sizes this year.

I sure hope this cold I’m getting over isn’t that fat virus. I could have infected a lot of people today… This could be really bad. All those women in there eating pastries and getting the fat virus… Umm, umm, ummm. They sure are going to be mad if that virus keeps them from getting skinny after all that pain and sweat.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain Tagged With: Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

The Leading Cause of Brain Crud

January 15, 2009 in Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

The voices in my head are singing Where’s the Love Y’all, by the Black Eyed Peas.

What I’m reading: A Deadly Shade of Gold, by John D. MacDonald.

The Queen of Pain accused me this morning of suffering from Brain Crud, in response to my plea for sympathy on account of having the head and chest crud for eight weeks. Now, setting aside her complete and utter lack of sympathy, she has a point. I feel like I need to take one of those things the dentist uses to clean your teeth and scrape off all the nooks and crannies of my gray matter.

At first I thought it was just a holiday, family/mall/carb-overload hangover, but I now suspect it’s something far more insidious. I have television poisoning.

I typically don’t watch much TV–just a few favorite shows: Boston Legal (which won’t be a problem anymore as its last episode aired before Christmas), Monk, The Closer, Saving Grace, and more recently, Leverage, the new Timothy Hutton series. But over the holidays, I fall into bad habits.

It starts with watching a few holiday movies on the Hallmark channel with my mother. Nothing gets you into the holiday spirit quite like heartwarming romantic holiday fluff. Then, there are all those bowl games, and playoff games. Left to my own devices I wouldn’t watch much of that, but most of the family-and-friend pool like it, so we watch.

Before long, I have a customary place on the sofa that calls to me as soon as the dinner dishes are in the dishwasher. I start CHANNEL SURFING–looking for something to watch. I become far less discriminating, although, let me say right here that if I ever type the words, “I finally broke down and watched an episode of American Idol,” somebody just call up the nervous hospital and have them send a padded wagon.

Disclaimer: I mean no slight, aspersion, or snark to anyone who enjoys “Reality TV.” I just personally don’t care for it at all. I’m convinced it’s a vast Hollywood conspiracy to inflate profits. I like my escapism with a plot…you know, something that involves writers, some reasonably talented actors, and a set. I digress.

It’s not the shows that are really the issue, though I typically spend my leisure hours with my first love, books. It’s the commercials. Oh. Dear. Tara.

It’s so bad, that when a decent commercial comes on, I actually remark on how well it was done. This happens about once a week. The prescription drug ads are awful, but the really, really bad commercials–the ones that cause the maximum buildup of Brain Crud are the ones that include the words, “But WAIT!” You know the ones I’m talking about… the ads for things like Mighty Putty, Hairagami, and those plastic clips you put on your bra straps that guarantee to make you a cup size bigger and improve your posture. I’m also sick of seeing celebrities try to convince us that they lost 40 pounds eating Nutri System, or Jenny Craig food, or by drinking a bunch of Acai Berry Juice. Please, those people have a team of personal trainers and a kitchen staff to help them get skinny.

Now that I’ve figured out what caused the brain crud, it’s easy to fix. It’s not difficult AT ALL to turn off the TV once you realize you’ve fallen victim. If only all my unhealthy habits were cured as easy as picking up a remote and pressing “Off.”

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain Tagged With: Blather and Profound Notions, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

Three Words You’ll Only Hear at Jazzercise

September 11, 2008 in Family, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

Sing it, Susan!

This, from the Queen of Pain today, as we writhed on the floor in agony while of one of those American Idol winners belted out a poor imitation of Aretha’s Chain of Fools. I couldn’t tell you who was singing–I never watch that stuff. I think reality TV is a network conspiracy to make more money by not paying actors and writers. I digress.

To distract myself from the searing pain in my upper thighs–officially known at Jazzercise as the side butt–and because I love Aretha, I sang with enthusiasm. It’s a testament to how bad the leg routine was that no one got up and left.

The last time I sang in front of people was during our annual Labor Day Family Weekend in the Mountains. I was jamming around the cabin with my iPod, singing along with The Black Eyed Peas when most of my family bolted from their rocking chairs into the woods, where they fled the vicinity along with all creatures great and small.

Only my brother-in-law, who is a kind soul, and was particularly attached to his rocking chair (and possibly bidding on something on Ebay as his eyes were glued to his laptop) stayed behind. “You sound different with that thing in your ears,” he said. Who knew?

I have actually sang on stage, though it’s been a, ahh…ahem… a few years. In high school, they let me sing on stage in not one, but two musicals–Bye Bye Birdie, and L’il Abner, although, a case could be made that few of my classmates wanted to sing and dance on stage, making it hard to cast an entire musical, and parts therefore easy to land.

Nevertheless, I sing, not so much for the enjoyment of others, but because it makes me happy. They let me do that at Jazzercise, which is one more reason I go.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Family, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain Tagged With: Family, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

Will Dance For Food

July 30, 2008 in Diets and Other Torture, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

Yesterday, I drug myself back to Jazzercise to get to work my third resolution of 2008 to be more fit. It’s nearly August, so I’m hoping the third time is the charm.

The Queen of Pain, who is normally on stage on Monday’s at 5:40, was AWOL. I was put out, of course. How dare she not be there on the third Monday I’ve shown up this year? But, Donna, the Singing Alien was teaching, and I like her class.

Now, as I have not been in a month, after the first two songs I was, naturally, telling myself that it would be FINE for me to cut out early since it was my first day back. But then, Donna put on the dancing music. I don’t even know what the song was, but it had a BEAT. And I remembered why I go.

I love to dance.

Well, that, and I have to do SOMETHING to burn off the Mega Moo Mocha Moo Lattes. I’ve decided to devise a point system. Something like, if I go to Jazzercise four days in a week, I can have Fettuccine Alfredo on Saturday. Or cheesecake. I’ll put up posters of my favorite foods on the refrigerator…hey, whatever works.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Diets and Other Torture, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain Tagged With: Diets and Other Torture, Jazzercise, The Queen of Pain

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