Married to A Romance Writer

Married to a Writer: How Embarrassing

Pamela Tracy here.

I'm a romance writer, yup, and that job travels with me wherever I go, whether to the store, to my son's soccer game, to work, to church, well, you get the idea.

My husband and son travel with me, too.

Sometimes the two worlds collide.

So, a few months ago, we're at the Apple store because I needed a new computer.  Mine had finally deteriorated so much that the only thing I could do was word processing.  And that was iffy because the system froze every 24 or so hours.  Then, I'd have to shut everything down and start from scratch.  The Internet would no longer work on the computer; I couldn't get  photos either.

I digress.

So, romance writer me and hubby are standing in front of the computer I want and waiting for a service rep.  My son is over at a kids' table playing on the iPads.

I'm typing away.

Rep comes over and asked me, "What can I do for you today?"

I point to the computer screen and there are all my computer questions.

My husband is embarrassed.  This is not the normal thing to do, you see.  He wants me to ask aloud, like a normal person.  As if romance writers were normal.  How boring!

The rep says, "Oh, I'll need to get someone with a little more knowledge about...." and he walks away.

I start to type more questions.

My husband is aghast.  "No, just ask the questions."

I said "Okay."

Here's what I did on the computer instead of typing my questions.  And, yes, my husband is a plumber by trade 

Don Smith

Professor Me

Plumbing 101

October 11, 2013

Clean Fingernails

Plumbers, in American, face a strange malady.  It’s called tooth fungi, and it happens when they bite their fingernails.  Oh, not all plumbers bite their fingernails, but there are a few who cannot break the habit even when they see their coworkers with green teeth.  We’re not just talking slightly green; we’re talking florescent green.  The kind of green that glows in the dark and can guide planes in for landing.

This malady first occurred in the early 1920’s when Zeke Carmichael, of Carmichael plumbing, noticed a strange itching just about his top two teeth. He’d already lost the bottom teeth to a fist fight over  how many inches a toilet should be from a wall.  He very much wanted to keep the top two, so immediately went to a dentist.  Or, at least, he went to someone who pretended to be a dentist. 

Totally made up, on the spot.  Not true.

My husband read it with a mixture of horror and laughter.  He begged me to delete it before the technician showed.

So, in conclusion, Don't Mess With a Romance Writer Who Has a Computer in her Hand.   you might just get hurt