Terror at the pumps

American consumers have the shortest memories. At the beginning of the summer we skoffed at paying $1.89 a gallon. Now we are wait in line to buy it for 2.69. What's wrong with this picture?! I've been considering how this gas situation will affect my book tours. Here in southern Ohio gas prices have soared to 3.09 and still climbing. Analysts are blaming it on Hurricane Katrina, which doesn't make sense since prices have been going up at an alarming rate all summer.

What's the solution? What's the average consumer with kids and two jobs and errands to do? We are totally at the mercy of whoever it is controlling these prices. I'm afraid too many forces have too much to gain to bother helping us out. We're just the little guy. Talk about the war on terror. What's G.W. doing about this one?

Since no one in power seems to care what is going on at the pumps, I am forced to cut corners in other areas of my life. My limited marketing income has forced me to make drastic changes in how I market my book. It currently takes three books sold at a local event to replace the gas put into my tank to get to said event. I don't even want to think about how many books I need to sell for an out of town signing. What are my options? I can stay at home, or pay up like everyone else.

My utility bills continue to skyrocket since everyone who offers those services is also at the mercy of the oil companies. So I can't save there. I can clip coupons and buy in bulk at Save-a-lot. Already doing that. Limit long distance calls. Check. Turn off the air conditioning unless the heat index threatens my very life. Doing that too. Borrow magazines from the library instead of buying my own copies. Yeah, yeah, am already doing all that stuff.

What else can I do to find a few extra dollars in my already stretched budget to satisfy my parched Honda? I'm thinking of foregoing Christmas. Sorry, Honey, Randy, Mom, Dad, Gail, Robin, grandkids, and all the rest of my dear loved ones. Nana is trying to build a career while the government and the oil barons are snatching ever dime out of her fingers the instant she makes it. You might find nothing but hand stitched doilies and my undying love and devotion under the tree this year.

Didn't someone say it's the thought that counts? Hope you still feel that way after Christmas when you're trying to return the burnt cookies and lame poems I gave you.