Leana Delle

What do you think I’m fibbing about? Guess correctly on my Facebook page, and you could win one of two free eReader downloads of my novel, CONTROL SWITCH. I’ll announce the winners on Dec. 10th, 2013 on my Facebook fan page, so be sure to visit me there and click “Like” to find out if you won. Good luck!

 

1)  I was born in Cornwall, Ontario, Canada.

2) My favorite color is red.

3) I have dual citizenship (I’m Canadian and American).

4) My first job was as a chamber maid at the Holiday Inn.

5) I always wanted to be a professional singer.

6) My favorite pastime is writing.

7) I was arrested once, but it wasn’t my fault.

8 ) I had music videos aired on CBC in the early 90s.

9) Nothing makes me happier than hanging out in airports.

10) I wish it could be autumn all year round.

Okay, so I’m not a fan of television, but I do occasionally like to tune in to something retro on Netflix. Right now I’m on a Bewitched kick. I loved that show as a kid, and I know I’m dating myself here (again), but . . . come on. Wiggle your nose and get what you want? I’m all over that. Samantha’s husband, Darren, however, was not.

It’s with new eyes that I watch this old series. I still love it, but really?

“Don’t wiggle your nose to clean the house, Samantha. You promised when we got married that there’d be no more witchcraft.”

Excuse me, Dagwood? If I could wiggle my nose and forgo laundry, someone would be getting that ridiculous notion wiggled right out of their noggin.

I’m far more of an Endora fan at this point. She was intelligent, strong-willed, and in touch with her “Let’s pop over to Paris for lunch” side. Truly a woman who understood how to embrace her power to create. My kinda girl.

Then there’s Jeannie (don’t get me started). Kept in a bottle? With a lid on it when she misbehaved??

 

If you can get past the glaring sexual fantasy in this show, the level of control that this genie’s “master” had over her never made sense to me whatsoever – not even as a child. Mind you, he did save her from an eternity of confinement and oppression.

Whatever.

I’m admittedly still entertained by the antics of Samantha and Jeannie – each in their own way – and I can see why I loved them so much as a kid. In spite of gender portrayals, they were the stars of their shows, and they inspired me to imagine possibilities.

I like to think that we’re all the stars of our own shows with endless possibilities at our finger- (ah, nose) tips. We’ve just got to harness our own brand of magic to obtain what it is we want. We may not reach goals in an instantaneous manner, but we can make anything happen if we set our minds to it and do the work. Oh, and believe. We’ve got to believe.

So cross your arms, give your heads a quick nod, and wiggle your noses, ladies. We have come a long way, and if you doubt it for a minute, just check out a few 1960’s television episodes to remind yourself of where we’ve been.

Thank God for changes in attitude. And wouldn’t I just love to chat with Sam and Jeannie now to see how things panned out.

You stuck that broom and bottle where?

Okay, so I was born in Canada, and we have a tendency to apologize – a lot. If we bump into someone on the street, we say, “I’m sorry.” If we need to ask for directions, we precede the request with, “I’m sorry.” If someone does something to us that’s unacceptable, we apologize for bringing up the issue.

We’re polite, and there’ll be no apologizing for that. I have noticed, however, that my need to say “I’m sorry” has gotten a bit out of hand, and I attribute that more to technology than my Canadian roots.

I’m busy. In fact, I’m very busy, and I love it. I’m happiest when I’m doing what I love to do and lots of it, but with the added expectation of online marketing, and even social networking, I’m finding my inner dialogue sounding more and more like . . .

‘Damn, I think I missed So-and-so’s birthday.’

‘Did I ever answer What’s-his-name’s email?’

‘I hope Who’s-a-ma-call-it isn’t upset that I haven’t phoned her back yet.’

And it’s not that So-and-so, What’s-his-name, or Who’s-a-ma-call-it aren’t important to me, or that they’re less important than the task at hand. It’s just that my brain is on somewhat of an expectation overload and there’s too much to keep track of.

Take Facebook (FB) for example. When I originally joined, I was thrilled at staying updated with everyone in one place with a few simple clicks. Blessed to have a substantial list of “friends,” I’m now getting carpal tunnel from scrolling through my news feed. Heaven forbid I actually miss something. And book marketing? Don’t get me started. I’ve read article after article about how you should be on FB, Pinterest, Goodreads, Google +, LinkedIn, Twitter, WordPress. The list goes on. Each and every site – I’m told – is essential to the success of an author. It’s never ending.

So, when I get around to messaging my friends, and/or answering emails, I tend to start out with “I’m sorry I haven’t replied sooner, but . . .” and my apologies are truly genuine.

Ironic that we’ve progressed to the point of being in constant contact with people and yet our contact has been jeopardized as a result.

Anyway, I’ll do my best to keep in touch and up-to-date, and I’ll keep tweeting, blogging, and plugging away on my second novel, but none of it without some element of guilt attached, because I’d truly love to be the girl who leaves no person or task unattended to.

I’m sorry. It’s just the way I am.

Have you read Elizabeth Gilbert‘s book, “Eat, Pray, Love?” I have. And I’ve watched the movie. As per usual, I enjoyed the book more, but, having lived in San Antonio and Dallas for several years, I found Richard Jenkins’s portrayal of Richard From Texas worthwhile. Javier Bardem as Felipe wasn’t too hard to handle either, but I digress.

I recently visited Italy, and I can tell you that Rome is everything Elizabeth claims it to be. The people, the history, the culture, and . . . oh my God . . . the food! I decided to take a lesson from Ms. Gilbert’s book and feast to my heart’s content. Not once did I count calories or bat an eye at switching from denim to elastic waists. I ordered what I wanted, ate every last bite, and washed it all down with a glass or two of grape.

La buona vita.

I can’t begin to tell you how liberating it felt to just savor. I’ve never tasted food like that before in my life, but maybe it was that good because I allowed myself to fully enjoy it.

Actually, “savor” is the perfect word to sum up the trip. I’m currently in a long distance relationship with a great guy, and we had an entire two weeks to savor our time together. No, we didn’t get to romp on the beaches of Bali, but we enjoyed the magic and romance of stumbling upon an outdoor movie in Rome and watching gondolas caress the waterways of Venice.

(okay, so maybe the accordion player wasn’t all that romantic)

Eating? Plenty of it. Loving? Plenty of that too. Praying? Not in an ashram in India, but here? Yes. Praying that I can now lose this souvenir of a butt that I brought home with me on the plane. “Hind”sight would dictate that I should have exercised more moderation. Foresight says I’ll take the same approach of savoring on my next vacation.

Elizabeth said it best: “To travel is worth any cost or sacrifice.”

NurseWeek Magazine is having a sweepstakes, and you could win CEs for life! You could also win a copy of my book, CONTROL SWITCH.

Go to www.NurseWeek/Sweepstakes for your chance to win, and GOOD LUCK!!