Christine McKellar

Ah, to be a master of the vine. Las Vegas boasts two home boys (both alums of Las Vegas high schools) who are highly respected wine connoisseurs; Master Sommelier Kevin Vogt and foodie/golf wineau, Les Kincaid. I was fortunate to see both men last night at the 2009 Tasting Panel Tour at miX lounge in THEHotel, Las Vegas.

I met Kevin over ten years ago at Emeril Lagasse’s restaurant in the MGM Hotel. We spent a memorable evening after hours one night in a private wine-tasting with my (then) husband and the general manager of a family property and his wife. At the time, Kevin was one of only a mere handful of members of the Court of Master Wine Sommeliers (CMW). To date there are 176 members of CMW in the world.

As well-versed as Kevin is in the rarified atmosphere of world-class vintages, he has a pleasant, unflappable demeanor that ranks him as highly as the fine wine and spirits he recommends. Kevin is master sommelier and wine director for Emeril Lagasse. You can find him at Delmonico Steakhouse in the Venetian Hotel.

Les Kincaid should clone himself. The avid wineau is also an avid chef, golfer and radio talk show host. I met Les and his wife, Tammy, on a Monterey press junket two years ago. Our group had dinner and paired wine tastings at some of Monterey’s finest restaurants and vineyards. We traveled in style: limousines and vintage (of course) autos. It was a treat to have Les at the table, just as it was a treat to have him patiently walk me and my guest through the array of tastings at miX.

Les indeed has a certain glow about him when talking about one of the loves of his life. There is nary a hint of condescension in his dialogue, either. Just like the Chateau Michele cabernet last night, a conversation with Les leaves you with a smooth finish and no acidic aftertaste.

When it comes to food, wine and golf, Les is definitely more. Listen to his syndicated wine radio broadcast every Thursday, from 7- 8 PM PST on CRNI.net. Discover for yourself non-intimidating and delicious recipes on Les’ website, www.leskincaid.com And get some good golf tips while you’re at it.

(This blog is also posted on www.opensalon.com)

I knew there was something different about comedy impressionist, Frank Caliendo, at the Monte Carlo last night. It wasn’t until my sidekick, Helen, pointed it out to me that I got it: the dude never once dropped the F-bomb, nor did he make any sleazy sexual remarks during his debut. He kept the audience’s full attention—and produced barrels of laughter. While he lost me a few times during his sports spiels, the overall consensus afterwards was a hearty thumbs up.

Fellow ”Salonista” Kathy Knechtges recently posted a comment on one of my blogs: “I note how often sex takes the place of talent in the arts now.” Girlfriend, you hit the proverbial nail with a golden hammer. And nowhere does sex sell like in Las Vegas. Quite frankly (hee, hee), neither Mr. Caliendo nor his head-lining peers need to bother with the subject. From billboards and marquees to taxi cabs and handout literature; breasts, thighs and provocative posing are rampant in Sin City.

Despite the fact that my perky twenties are a shadow in a distant past, I still want to be sexy too! It’s in my genes (well, last night it was in my skintight faux snakeskin pants). There are degrees to which I’ll let certain unenhanced body parts kind of hang out. There are musical rhythms and beats that make my hips and limbs take on a life of their own. Yet there is a certain decorum I maintain that I seriously doubt has come just with “age”. I think it comes with plain old unadorned common sense.

Helen and I went hotel-hopping after Caliendo’s show last night. I went, like, Lady Gag-Ya over most of the ensembles the mainstream girls were wearing. One little Asian gal’s attire pretty well sums it up. A skimpy bustier ( yup, fake breasts) over a miniscule pair of jean cut-(and I say WAY cut) off shortie-short-shorts, complemented (oh, simmer DOWN, Christine!) by black lace panty-ho’s (I need a shrink), and CFM black pointy boots.

In all fairness, I have to ask myself, “Do I envy these young women their youthful glow? Their zero-gravity status?” No. I lament their lack of modesty and good taste. I lament their lack of self-esteem. And I wish to God those two sexy young things at our table-top at the Monte Carlo could have heard the comments the equally-as-young two reptiles in suits made behind their backs. I seriously wanted to bitch-slap all four of them.

“It was the 28th of November, that day I’ll always remember…cuz that was the day that my daddy died.”

I lost my father on Thanksgiving Day November 28, 1991. For several years I couldn’t eat turkey in any way shape or form. I was fully aware it was psychological. (Most likely my aversion to raw tomatoes is psychological too!) But, I couldn’t abide the smell or taste or texture of the traditional bird.

This year Thanksgiving falls on November 26. I actually like the way holidays bounce around on the calendar. Every so often my birthday falls on Easter Sunday. The last time it did, 2005, I broke my ankle at the stroke of midnight and spent Easter Sunday/birthday with my sister, Cathy, in the Emergency Room at St. Rose de Lima Hospital in Henderson. HOPPY Birthday was my mantra that day.

Death is as normal and as constant as birth and every human since time began suffers both. Some of us, however, seem to be plagued with losses at holidays. I have a litany of those losses: Thanksgiving, Christmas Day, Christmas Eve, and St. Patrick’s Day. That some choose, are chosen, or simply exit on or near holidays or special occasions certainly doesn’t detract from the loss of other loved ones.

While we are all doomed to die we are not destined to decay. This holiday season think about what you can do to maintain your health and vitality. “Be” a favor to your loved ones. Eat sensibly, don’t abuse alcohol or tobacco. Most important of all, l can’t stress this enough, MOST IMPORTANT of all—exercise regularly. Daily. Do something, anything that gets your heart rate up and makes your muscles ache. That aching means your muscles have been stressed. Which in turn means your body sends its army of reparative cells to the rescue: cleaning out the old debris and decay and making new and vital tissue.

Our loved ones are with us in spirit no matter where we are or what time of the year it is. Rather than carry ghosts around, rejoice in the memories and the time spent with loved ones. Live life like you’re living it for those departed. Honor their deaths with your life well-lived. After all, one day… you’ll be together again.

-REMINDER-
Borders Book Signing & Halloween Event
Saturday
October 24, 2009
4 p.m. – 6 p.m.
Join me this Saturday, October 24, at Borders, Henderson. I’ll be signing copies of The Devil’s Valet. Copies of A Vampire Satire will be given to Borders’ customers as a “treat.” Masquerade masks will be given out along with the first fifteen books purchased. There will be a Children’s Corner and live music, so bring the whole family!

Borders Bookstore
1445 West Sunset Rd.
Henderson, NV 89014

Borders at Sunset and Stephanie in Henderson will be hosting a Halloween Book Signing Event with me as the featured author. October 24, 4-6 p.m. I’ll be signing copies of The Devil’s Valet. The first fifteen fans <:-) to buy the book will also get a signed paper mache masquerade mask similar to the one on the cover of The Devil’s Valet. There will be children’s activities and live music so bring the whole family!
A Vampire Satire: Those of you who subscribe to my newsletter already know I’ve written a four-part fiction story as a treat for the month of October. Subscribers get the first chapter free and the subsequent chapters for only $.99. Non-subscribers can purchase the entire series for $1.99 using PayPal on my website. Each chapter will be delivered weekly into your inbox throughout the month of October. A tongue-in-cheek, rib-tickling poke at the vampire trend over-saturating the market is only a PayPal poke away.

I’ve mentioned in earlier blogs how excruciating the process is to find an agent. The time line stretches on forever it seems. Same with book reveiws. I submitted The Devil’s Valet in May to The Midwest Book Review and got the review this week. Here it is:
Betrayal can change everything. “The Devil’s Valet” follows one Crosby Campbell as she meets the man of her dreams, or so she thinks. What follows is a series of events which radically changes Crosby’s life: divorce, pregnancy, and much more. A touching story of a woman trying to find her place in the world, “The Devil’’s Valet” is an entertaining read all the way through.
- Mary Cowper, MWBR.
Borders at Sunset and Stephanie will be hosting a Halloween Book Signing Event with me as the featured author. October 24, 4-6 p.m. I’ll be signing copies of The Devil’s Valet. The first fifteen fans <:-) to buy the book will also get a signed paper mache masquerade mask similar to the one on the cover of The Devil's Valet. There will be children's activities and live music so bring the whole family!
A Vampire Satire: Those of you who subscribe to my newsletter already know I’ve written a four-part fiction story as a treat for the month of October. Subscribers get the first chapter free and the subsequent chapters for only $.99. Non-subscribers can purchase the entire series for $1.99 using PayPal on my website. Each chapter will be delivered weekly into your inbox throughout the month of October. A tongue-in-cheek, rib-tickling poke at the vampire trend over-saturating the market is only a PayPal poke away.

A Port of No Return was reviewed by the prestigious Kirkus Reviews and received a stellar review. “A sexy, thrilling ride. McKellar skillfully brings the characters to life, and she clearly knows not only the technical details of living and working on a boat, but also the heady thrill of life at sea.” This review was the seal of approval for me from my peers. Had it been a damning review I doubt I would have written three more novels; all of which have received similarly glowing reviews. I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that without the constant love, understanding and support of my family and friends, I could never have accomplished as much as I have in the past four years. The face of rejection is ugly, indeed. Frustration isn’t good for the heart. But, I’ve had have plenty of strong shoulders to cry on. I’ve been rewarded countless times over when I see “the look” in my readers’ eyes when they tell me how much they enjoy reading my books. How I’ve kept them up late at night. It’s a look that doesn’t lie. It fills my heart with joy.

As luck would have it, I began my first book, A Port of No Return, in the spring of 2005. I had also begun a major remodel of my home: Not a good combination of elements. I’m sure the workers thought I was crazy half the time. Yes, I do tend to stride about on the back patio muttering to myself when wrestling with a character development or plot structure.  And, the look on my face when interrupted by a worker with a question or a request must have been quite alarming. What do you mean you want me to look at a color swatch when I’m right in the midst of bringing a chapter to a titillating climax?!? It’s no urban legend that writers live in their bathrobes. I’ve been supremely blessed in that I work out of my home. But, work is work and it takes structure and discipline to write a 110,000 word novel. I learned early on  not to venture anywhere NEAR my computer until AFTER my teeth were brushed and the dogs got fresh food and water. Once the computer goes on, it’s my master—seven days a week, 5 or more hours a day…(continued)

September 23, 2009

What Makes A Writer?Inspiration? (Part 2)

As a child, I was the proverbial bookworm. Nancy Drew, Little Women, all were dear to my heart. My original copy of Gone with the Wind shows the Love in every tattered, dog-eared page. I have upstairs books and downstairs books, books in the library, and books in boxes. My husband gifted me with a sweatshirt one Christmas: “So Many Books, So Little Time”. As an adult, when I began to travel, I kept journals.  I absolutely love to study people. Everyone has a story. People and places are inspiration to me. In the course of researching areas of interest that tie into my plots, it amazes me the number of unexpected subjects I stumble upon. For example: I envisioned the twisted, deviant captain of the Vanora in The Shadows of the Sea, as a native of Mexico City. Why was he twisted? I didn’t know until, while researching the history of Mexico City, I stumbled upon a true story about the massacre of students of the Universidad de Mexico. The infamous Tlatelolco Massacre (see Wikipedia) happened in October of 1968, just weeks before Mexico hosted the Olympics. I got my hook: Diego’s hatred stems from the loss of his innocent, older brother during the massacre, followed by the loss of their heart-broken mother.  You  can go to my website or Amazon.com to buy The Shadows of the Sea to get the full story. It’s a damn good one,too, if I do say so myself. ( to be continued)

One of the first things people generally ask me at lectures and book signings is, “When did you start writing?  Have you done it your whole life?” I have been writing  for as long as I can remember. I was first published when I was eight years old in a Southern California religious newspaper. I had written a small poem that my proud mother submitted to the publication.  I also created reams of fairytale-princess-happily-ever-after tales, complete with illustrations and text balloons. Looking back, they were storyboards, actually. I was the publisher, editor, and reporter for the neighborhood newspaper, The Estrada Press, when I was nine or ten years old. I still have the first copy, although, alas, the storyboards were lost in a house fire. My mother was a gifted and prolific writer of poetry. One of her poems honoring General Douglas MacArthur is in the West Point Library. Did I inherit a gene? Did the bedtime ritual of having poetry read aloud to us have a profound effect on my subconscious? I can still recite The Highwayman, Little Boy Blue and several other well-loved poems by heart; including those of my mother….(to be continued)