7-Year Itch Special!

It’s been 7 years since 500 Acres and No Place to Hide, More Confessions of a Counterfeit Farm Girl came out. It debuted on Labor Day weekend, 2011. Five months earlier, on April 13th, Stu died. I will be forever grateful to my editor  for getting a really, really advance copy of the book for him to see before he passed.

As you can imagine, the book tour for 500 Acres was very difficult for me. I was grief stricken, exhausted, too thin, and wracked with panic attacks. For example, I could drive, but only if I didn’t try to breathe at the same time. Consequently, I feel as if I never gave the book the push it deserved. Of the two I’ve written, it’s the better book. It’s funny and sad, just like real life. Maybe it’s too late now to encourage people to read it but, hopeless optimist that I am, I’m trying anyway.

In honor of the 7th anniversary of the publication of 500 Acres, I’m celebrating with my first ever 7-Year Itch Special.  If you missed 500 Acres (and therefore have yet to discover “Cluckster’s Last Stand” and what “Looking for Dick in All the Wrong Places” is really about), here’s your chance to get a signed copy for yourself or a friend who could use a little more laughter in her (or his!) life.

See the “Buy Now” button below? Once you click it, you’ll be taken to Susan McCorkindale, LLC’s spot on PayPal. Then:

  1. The lovely people at PayPal will ask for your credit card information, email, and shipping address (the $25 fee covers the book and all costs associated with getting it in the mail lickety split).
  2. I’ll receive your order summary and drop you an email asking to whom you’d like the book inscribed and where you’d like it shipped.

A little complicated but nothing an always and forever fake farm girl can’t handle. Thanks so much for celebrating with me and remember: books signed by the Author make great gifts!

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Why do I keep keys?

Behold, my desk drawer. An ordinary desk drawer filled with pens, post-it notes, highlighters, flash drives the contents of which have been long forgotten, and keys. Lots of keys.

Behold, my key chain. An ordinary key chain containing all the keys I need. Car key, house keys, boyfriend’s house key, and the key to my mailbox.  If all the keys I need are here, and they are, then what, pray tell, are those reproducing near my paper clips?

Do they represent plants I promised to water?

Mail I offered to bring in?

A dog I said I’d let out?

I doubt it. If they did, I’d have heard about it by now. Those keys have been in my desk drawer for years, from my time on the farm, to my former husband’s house, to my apartment in town, to the condo I live in today but, unlike the barrettes and hair bands in my bathroom,

I simply can’t recall where they came from.

I do, however, know what I’m going to do with them. I’m saving them, along with the clips, hair bands, and hundreds of bobby pins I discovered cowering in a Tupperware container last week when I started this “Why do I keep this stuff?” series, in a pretty box I’ve labeled Weird Writing Prompts. Clearly, that’s what they are and, as I look around this place with an eye toward more cleaning out and de-cluttering, I know two things:

  1. This series is far from over and
  2. I’m gonna need a bigger box.

#weirdwritingprompts #whydoikeepthisstuff




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Lovely Caskets Sold Here

Here we are in pretty, sunny, really hot Roatan, with its teal green, bathwater warm water, palm trees, bright pink and orange flowers, and two emerald green humming birds buzzing around while I write this. I’ll have to share pictures later as the husband has taken the camera on his first deep sea dive of the day. Sometimes I feel like I married Flipper. He and his fishing pole and spear come in handy, though. Yesterday he caught a gorgeous tuna, then he and Jill whipped it up Bonefish Grill style and served it for dinner. Fantastic.

Speaking of dinner, we’re all taking turns making it and the other night was Chris and my turn. I know, I know. My turn. Ha. Chris cooked (penne, pesto, chicken, huge dollops of Ricotta cheese mushed all around. Heaven.), I made the table look pretty and poured wine, and Don set his camera up on a ten second timer so he could get this picture of all of us.


Quite the crew, no? Let me tell you, we can eat! It’s our turn again tonight, and Chris is, I mean, we are, making burgers and brats, and cornbread and salad. My role is to chill the wine, test it, and test it some more. Roger that!

Just to catch you up, we arrived in Roatan late yesterday. It took us two tries and, ultimately, twelve cold, rainy, choppy hours to go from Placencia to Utila, twelve hours I spent trying not to be sick and reading, reading, reading.  DSCN0223

Utila, as it turns out, is a pit. Stray dogs, poverty, the opportunity to at any moment be killed by a screaming ATV or moped or teeming garbage truck. It saddened me, made me grateful for my life, and frankly, I couldn’t wait to get out of there. We did happen upon some funny signs. One said “All Americans Must Be Accompanied By An Adult,” and the other, well, hopefully you can read it in the silly picture below.

coffin 1

“Lovely Caskets Are Sold Here Also Cheaper Coffins All With Their Straps

I’m telling you, Utila is a deathtrap. But when you die, no worries. They’ve got big bargains on coffins. And please do get me one with all the straps.

We all felt the same way about Utila, so we sailed to Roatan yesterday afternoon. Like I said, it’s beautiful and I’ll happily show you photos once I steal the camera from Chris (who’s still out doing his Jacques Cousteau thing). I’ve been sitting with Jill and Don and Non-Paul for hours now at Cafe Escondido, so if you ever come to the Bay Islands, please pay them a visit. The sandwiches are delicious, the iced coffee refreshing, and the WiFi plentiful. They’re also really patient and don’t seem to care that we’ve been camped out here since sunrise.

Time to get up, take a stroll, a swim, and do a little  (more) sunbathing. I come home Monday, but I hope to write again tomorrow. I’m going to miss Roatan, my new friends on DragonFly, and my husband. Chris will stay with the boat until it reaches San Blas, Panama, but I need to return early.  Love you, handsome, for figuring out how I could come along for a few days. It hasn’t been easy – I’m an awful sailor and being seasick stinks – but it’s totally been worth it. What an experience.

Until tomorrow then!


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Do you DeJaVu? Now there’s one more reason to!

DeJaVu 43 Main Street, Warrenton

It’s rare that I leave DeJaVu, the adorable consignment shop at 43 Main Street in Warrenton, without a fabulous Michael Kors bag or Ann Taylor top in my hands. It’s even rarer that I leave without buying jeans  (I’m a total jeans hoarder), and something, anything, a scarf, skirt, pair of shoes, or belt in my favorite color: beige.  If you’ve been there, you know why I think the store’s so terrific. And if you’ve been there lately, then you know why my enthusiasm has reached a whole new level. DeJaVu is now carrying signed copies of 500 Acres And No Place To Hide, More Confessions of a Counterfeit Farm Girl. So go in and do a little shopping. Pick up something Chanel, Armani, or Boden, and of course a good book. And tell Alison and Sandra Susan sent you. Thanks!

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