Susan M. Boyer

USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Agatha Award Winner

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Susan M. Boyer

USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Agatha Award Winner

  • Home
  • About
    • Bio
    • Media Kit
    • Photo Galleries
    • Privacy Policy
    • Stella Maris Books, LLC
  • Books
    • The Liz Talbot Mystery Series
    • Carolina Tales
  • Maps & Extras
    • Stella Maris
      • Who’s Who in Stella Maris
      • Stella Maris Map
    • Carolina Tales
      • Coming Soon!
  • News
  • Events
  • Blog
  • Contact

Myra’s School of Pole Dancing

September 27, 2006 in Uncategorized

Myra’s getting ready to run another promotion. One 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. My friends are either already dancing their little hearts out, have been and refuse to go back (for various ridiculous excuses like ‘the surgeon told me I can’t yet’), or they live out of town. I won’t be getting that T-shirt (or whatever), and I suspect that most of the current students face the same dilemma.

But I have a better idea for Myra. Change the name to reflect what we really do in there. Women go to Jazzercise to let their hair down and dance. We shimmy, we bump, we grind… we shake what our mamma’s gave us. And we take these talents home with us. Our husbands are lucky men. If the sign on the door said “Myra’s School of Pole Dancing,” the men of Greer/Taylors would be signing their wives up in droves.

Now, granted, their may be some fallout from local churches. Greer/Taylors is definitely a conservative area. And, as I have said before, Myra is a Christian woman, as is… well, everybody that I personally know. So the sign would have to reflect the fact that we use our skills only for the entertainment of the men we are legally married to. Maybe, “Myra’s Christian School of Pole Dancing and Marital Therapy.”

We might need to play with it a little bit. Y’all let me know what you think.

Note: In response to several questions, I would like to add that at no time do we remove any of our clothes while Jazzercising. Well, except for the occasional sweatshirt. This is completely wholesome pole dancing.

Peace, out…

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien

Workin’ Up A Black Sweat

August 3, 2006 in Uncategorized

Okay, Demon Diane like to kilt me on Monday. And you can tell how much she enjoys inflicting pain. She actually smiled when, after 25 aerobic songs she said, “Y’all didn’t cool down any on that last one? Me neither.” I think she’s trying to see if she can make me pass out. I’ll just go ahead and save her the trouble of that little experiment…she can. I hallucinated there for a while on Monday, during Workin’ Up a Black Sweat (for those of you unfamiliar with his music, this is a recent song by Prince…er…the artist formerly known as Prince, or whatever he’s calling himself these days).

Anyway, so I recuperated yesterday by lolling in bed for an extra hour or so and accidentally missing class. This morning I accidentally slept late and went to Myra’s class–the caring, nurturing and always entertaining one. She did not disappoint. We wiggled (one of her signature moves), we wobbled, and we kept our headlights on bright. But about midway through the third or fourth aerobic song, I noticed a trail of what looked like mascara dripping down the side of her neck and down on to her, umm…headlights. I kid you not. Myra actually worked up a black sweat. Not just a little one, either.

I was standing on the front row, and noticed it right off. Naturally, I was concerned by this strange phenomenon, not being sure that it wasn’t the symptom of some exotic and highly contagious disease (she did just get back from vacation). I said to her, “Myra…you’re sweating black.” An instructor can easily hear you from the front row. Her eyes got great big. I was thinking maybe this was something else to do with her being an alien and all, but then, Casey and Diane don’t sweat black…but then again, they don’t sweat all that much, either, so it could be black sweat, and I never noticed.

Myra covered the whole thing up by saying that she had a new headpiece and it must be bleeding. Riiiight. I have seen instructors use new headpieces before, but never have any of them sweated black. If y’all don’t hear from me, you’ll know it was contagious…

Oh, I almost forgot…progress!!! I lost 2.4 pounds last week. Yippee!!

Peace, out…

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Demon Diane, Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien

The Caring and Nurturing Alien

June 12, 2006 in Uncategorized

Okay, I missed Personal Torture this morning, but I had a good reason: Jim’s flight got delayed, and he called to tell me he was coming back home and picking up breakfast on the way and what did I want. Now, it would have been rude of me to tell the man who pays for the Torture that I was so sorry but I could not take the time to sit across the breakfast table from him because I had to go squat against a wall and whine.

I did, however, make it to the 9:20 class. Myra, aka the caring and nurturing alien was on stage to sweat all those weekend calories out of us. She did a good job. We learned to tone a previously unknown body part: the back ta-tas. Back cleavage. She claims this is caused by a bra that is too tight, but if this is the case, why do we have to tone that particular area? It makes no sense. Also, she had us doing what looked like some sort of weird mass birthing exercise. We were sitting on our mats (all facing horizontally on account of her OCD), with our knees bent and spread wide pressing our inner thighs toward each other (in my case, not too far), and she was chanting “push, pull…push, pull.” It scared me. I was having flashbacks from ** years ago when I gave birth to my only son. Childbirth is a beautiful experience. So beautiful, in fact, that I only needed to endure it once to fully appreciate it. They say you forget the pain, and I can only tell you that although I did not participate in natural childbirth, and encouraged them to pump me full of every available drug to make the process more pleasant, I REMEMBER AND IT WAS PAINFUL. So Myra, kindly take the birthing song out!!

She must be on some weird tear, because she also had something in her set that sounded like Russian folk dancing, but she swears is a German chick singing French. Oh, and Honky Tonk Badonkadonk, the country equivalent of Bootylicious. It was an eclectic set.

Gotta go write something… Peace, out…

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien

Aliens Among Us

June 7, 2006 in Uncategorized

Proving once again that I am not the only person in Greer/Taylors, SC who has taken leave of their senses, 7 victims showed up VOLUNTARILY to personal Torture at 7:30 this morning: Little Bride, Sister-in-Law, Jersey Girl, Demon Diane (aka Hurricane), Shy-Town and Blog Girl (Moi). And, of course, Shona (I used to be a white girl). These are our Shona names.
Shona claims to have been born white and baked black by the sun. This may be true, cause she was singing country songs during class, and not too many bona fide Sisters like country music. She warned Demon Diane and Jersey Girl that they, too, would soon become irreversibly black if they didn’t watch out. They sport nice tans. I don’t know if they’re gonna turn black or not, but they’re both skinny, so I couldn’t help but wish a few wrinkles on ’em. That wasn’t very Christian of me, I know. But it’s hard to think pretty thoughts about skinny women when you’re Voluptuous.
Shona is Voluptuous like me. She claims that her man runnoft with a Big Girl, because Shona wasn’t big enough for him. Brothers like big women, she says. So here is my question: Why is she submitting to Personal Torture, and why does she want a picture of Demon Diane to put on her refrigerator for motivation? There is nothing remotely Voluptuous about Demon Diane. I asked Shona to clarify this, and she said it has something to do with Diane’s shape…her protuberant derriere. I have never personally noticed that Demon Diane had a protuberant derriere, but who am I to question a Sister’s judgment in such matters?
Speaking of Demon Diane…in yet another act of self-punishment, I stayed for her class. When will I learn? There is just something bad wrong with a woman who can dance till the sweat is positively running off of her–and I stand on the front row, so I can see it puddling up–and still have enough breath to cue every move with nary a gasp for air. Casey’s like that, too. I have a theory on this: I think they’re both aliens. This would also explain why they can eat and still be disgustingly thin. I mean, it could be all that exercise, I guess. But I personally would find it much more satisfying if they turned out to be aliens from some planet where all the women are disgustingly thin, beautiful and flat-chested.
Casey was lamenting her almost A’s just this morning. I feel so bad for her, BLESS HER HEART. As I have informed her on several occasions, I would trade my ample bosom any day for her almost A’s if I could have the rest of the package to go along with it.
Just now, as I typed that, this sarcastic little alien voice started whispering in my ear, “If you’d exercise like you’re supposed to and stop eating all those Mega Moo Mocha Moolattes, you’d be fit, too.”
Maybe, oh Queen of Pain…and maybe you’re an alien.
By the way, for those of you with OCD, you’ll be relieved to know that Myra straightened the mats during Demon Diane’s class. Poor Myra…she could be an alien, too, I guess….she is thin, beautiful and flat- chested….and I have seen her eat…they’re taking over!!!

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien, The Queen of Pain

Bless Myra’s Heart, She Just Can’t Help Herself

June 6, 2006 in Uncategorized

I have OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I do things that ordinary people don’t do. For example, when at home, although we have four bathrooms in our house, when I need to go potty, I always use mine. The one next to my bedroom. Not the closest one, mine. Towels are only used once (this drives my sister crazy–I think she’s reported me to the environmental police). Also, things in our house have to be kept in their place, or I become very upset. I never claimed to be normal.
One OCD can pick another one out of the crowd at fifty paces. I love Myra, but I have always known that she shares my disease. If ever there was any doubt, it would have been removed this morning when she stopped dancing in the middle of Wendy’s class to match up the hand weights.
At Jazzercise of Taylors, there are two racks of handweights, one on each side of the stage. There are only a few sets of 3 lb weights, because most people use at least 4’s. This morning, there were 3 3-lb weights on one side of the stage and 1 3-lb weight on the other side. Myra stopped in mid-shimmy to repair this rift in the fabric of the universe. I so understand…
Wendy’s just back from vacation where she claims to have over-indulged, a sin for which we are all paying. She hurt me this morning. Lord, save me from Jazzercise instructors trying to burn off vacation eating. Or those getting ready to go on vacation or get married…you get the picture. I guess it worked out though, since I have way more to work off than she does. There are desserts from 1987 riding around on my hips.
My dream is to someday be to the point where I can only worry about working off what I ate last week. Peace, out…

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien

Catching My Breath

June 5, 2006 in Uncategorized

Okay, I know it’s been a while. But I have a trunk of reasons. And they’re all boring, so we’ll skip those. I’ll do better, I promise. The Blue Ridge Christian Writer’s conference was awesome! I got back home on the 25th and have been recuperating ever since. There was so much going on it was hard to absorb it all. But I had a great time, made several new friends, met some wonderfully talented folks, listened to some fantastic motivational speakers…and spoke to a terrific agent who agreed to read my first three chapters.
Now, for those of you who are not struggling to get your first novel published, you might not realize what a big deal this is. This is tremendously superb news. I am happy. Please be happy with me. All together now….who-hooo!!
Now the bad news…the food was good but fattening. I did walk a lot, and it was uphill both ways, but I didn’t come close to burning off the calories I took in. When three full meals plus three snacks are placed in front of you every day, well pounds tend to accumulate. All of my hard work being tortured by Casey has been undone.
But today, I hauled myself back to the dance floor and also signed up for another session of Personal Torture…I mean Touch.
I signed up for the same class that Shona is in…oh boy, I haven’t told y’all about Shona. Shona is the funniest person I know who does not have a microphone. She needs one. The first time I met Shona was in a Personal Torture class the day after Mother’s Day. She was allowing as to how she made her children call their daddy’s girlfriend and wish her a happy Mother’s Day because she likes her and wants her to stick around (so the kids can spend quality time with their daddy, giving Shona a much needed break). I laughed till I cried when she was telling this story, but I can’t post all the details until I check with her…she might not want it on the internet. But everything that comes out of her mouth is hysterically funny, so you want her in your Personal Torture class to help keep your mind off the pain and agony.
I’ve been giving some consideration to the possibility that I’m spreading myself too thin (which is why I seldom have time to BLOG anymore). I’m in three local critique groups, and just palled up with an online critique buddy who I met at the conference. I may be spending more time critiquing and reading other people’s critiques of my work than I am actually writing. I am considering cutting back. Also, the thing I’m finding is that often the people doing the critiques have conflicting advice, which requires me to spend an inordinate amount of time deciding who’s right.
SO…I’m getting myself back on track, and hopefully will be posting more regularly. In the meantime, on a serious note, y’all pray for Myra and her family. Her mother’s real sick and is being transported to a cardiac care facility in Florida.

Peace, out….

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Conferences, I Am Therefore I Write, Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien

I Hate It When Casey’s Right

April 21, 2006 in Uncategorized

Y’all might have noticed, but the whole ‘being accountable to myself via blog’ isn’t working so good. This became crystal clear when, on the first warm day of spring I tried on last year’s capris. Having been hanging in the closet for several months, they had, of course, shrunk a little. You know how fabric tends to do that, right?
So I laid down on the floor and wiggled (Official Jazzercise move) into the capris. Although it made a blister on my right index finger, I was able to get the zipper up. It was a short lived victory, however, because when I stood up, the part of my stomach that flattens out when I lay down came crashing through that zipper. This was not a pretty sight.
Time for plan B.
Okay, so next week I start Personal Touch. This is where I pay money for Casey to cause me great pain and agony and also monitor everything that goes into my mouth because quite a lot of stuff is apparently sneaking in there when I’m preoccupied with other things. It’s a month into spring. My summer clothes don’t fit. I am a desperate woman. Next week, I will be a cranky woman.
I will try to focus on how good being not-so-fat feels. I would tell you that I will focus on how good being thin feels, except I haven’t been thin since I was five, and I really don’t remember. Wait, there were a couple of years in high school when I was in size sevens (and some fives). But I still didn’t feel thin. I have been obsessed with my weight my entire life and I am frankly bored with it, which is why I have started ignoring it and put some of the weight I’d lost back on. I guess I’ll have to go back to being obsessed.
This morning I went to 9:20 Jazzercise and Myra committed an attempted homicide by Jazzercise. I think she’s sneaking in a couple of extra fast songs, because there was one point right before we started cooling down when my arms were tingling and I was hallucinating. I could have sworn there were two Myras on stage. It was probably just all the sweat dripping into my eyes. I think Myra got tired , too, because she stopped dancing and said, “I like to watch.” Right. That’s what instructors do when they’ve worn themselves out. They stop to watch and make sure we’re doing it right. We’re on to that trick.
Anyway, I have an addition to the list of Jazzer-body parts: taillights. I bet you can guess what that is. Today, we kept our headlights up and worked our taillights off. Peace, out…

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien, The Queen of Pain

Beautiful Inside and Out

March 28, 2006 in Uncategorized

Friday Morning I over slept–due to studying great literature late into the night–but managed to drag my sorry tush to Myra’s class (9:20). Myra, who discovered quite accidentally that she has been blogged, professed feeling pressure to perform, but delivered her usual entertaining fare. I should also mention, for the record, that, like all of the other instructors at the Taylors Jazzercise Center, Myra is–in addition to her talents with colorful language–also obnoxiously gorgeous. Inside and out. She’s not like one of those blind dates that you go on where the person fixing you up tells you what a great personality the other party has (code for homely at best).

And I have to tell y’all, Myra, in addition to all her other many talents, is quite intellectual. I have learned a lot from Myra. Especially in he area of human biology (I’m sure there’s a fancier name for that, but I don’t have time to find it). Before taking Myra’s class, for example, I was completely ignorant of the following body parts: side-butt, over-hang, and glootey-patootey. We work those parts on a regular (and painful) basis.

Something else I’ve learned is a completely new language. Myra is fond of Latin music. She loves to dance with a rose in her teeth. And if she doesn’t understand the lyrics, she sings them in Myra-ese. I’m still working on the finer points of this modern linguistic marvel, but it seems to be a cross between Spanish and Southernese.

I’m telling y’all: there is simply no place you get more for your exercise dollar than at Taylors Jazzercise Center. Give it a try. Maybe I’ll see you there. If I haven’t over slept.

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien

Keep Those Headlights Up

March 9, 2006 in Uncategorized

Every Jazzercise instructor has their own stage personality, which is usually a revved up version of their regular personality. I (like probably every other Jazzerciser) like different things about each of them. Every Jazzercise instructor at the Taylors center (the best Jazzercise center ever) is fabulous, of course, but they are each unique. My favorite thing about Myra, whose class I took this morning, is her colorful Jazzer-talk. I don’t mean colorful in a vulgar way, not at all. Myra is a Christian woman, and not prone to vulgarity. But her brand of Jazzer-talk is entertaining, and helps keep our minds off the pain. Keep in mind, the following Jazzer-sayings are delivered in a room full of women. (Despite what I told Jim when I tried to get him to go, I’ve never seen a man at the Taylors center except on Valentines Day when they have a special sweethearts class. Men were few but regular at the center I used to go to in faux-Greer.) Anyway, here are my favorites of Myra’s Jazzer-sayings: 1) Keep those headlights up now. This one, obviously, helps us remember not to slouch. 2) I’m not bitter. This one usually is pulled out when someone is going on vacation–which requires the instructor’s permission, so that we can a) live through the traveler, and, b) talk about her while she’s gone (only in an envious way). Myra’s last vacation was to Dollywood, and I think she said that was five years ago. Bless her heart, she’s dedicated to her vocation–and her children. 3) Hold that pose. Myra is also dedicated to flair. 4) Life’s too short–shimmy. This is my favorite, and, I think, good general advice.
So, I made it to Jazzercise this morning. Yeah! And, I wrote for 6 hours, give or take. No rejections in the mail, so, all in all, it was a good day. And, for the record, I did not have a Mega Moo Mocha Moolatte last night, although I was sorely tempted!

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien

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