No Reply Needed

With all that I have, I’m trying not to be negative with what I’m about to say, but I’m afraid I have finally lost my belief that most humans are good people. It’s taken me a lifetime to come to this point but here I am.  If you’re reading this, you might care but probably not, and it doesn’t really matter. I’m writing this so other people that are feeling the same way will know they are not alone.

Over the past couple of years, I have seen behavior from people I would have bet my last dollar on that they would never, ever say or do the things I have heard or saw.  Could be they think the same of me.  But what I have observed is people becoming the very things they say they hate. And hate is not too strong of a word. It comes from their mouths and writings.

Of course, that has always been a difference of opinions, from the time I can remember. The first biggest difference of opinion in my lifetime was the Vietnam war. I was in high school.  And although so many of us felt different ways about what was going on, I don’t remember anyone every talking hateful towards me or threatening me.  I don’t remember anyone ever talking down to me just because I felt a different way. I was never made to feel little, told to shut up, or even wished I would die. I never had friends walk away from me because of who I voted for, or tell me to never talk to them again. Not so much the case these days.

People have become a society of hate.  Don’t like someone’s opinion, then the hate is on.  Not being a Democrat or Republican, but more of a moderate human, I see fault with both sides.  Sadly what I see is both sides are so wrapped up in their opinions, they fail to hear anything the other side says. They just know that hate it.

If we as a nation don’t start trying to work together, we are doomed. And I hate that. This past week I heard from some politicians that now the elections are over, both Dems and Republicans will start working together and with the President. That lasted about one day. Then it was they are going to do everything in their power to stop anything the President wishes to do, right or wrong. 

Both sides are blinded by their hate. I’m only going to give one example, and that is with immigration and the border. Both the Clintons and President Obama are on video stating the very same ideas that President Trump is saying now. It was good then but now when President Trump says basically the same things, it’s bad. Horrible. He’s a racist. Etc. I ask myself why? Since William Clinton was in office the gang population of this country has gone way up. MS13 in my opinion should be put on a small island and let them rot.

Finding My Place

I’ve known many people that were always satisfied to stay in one place. Never moving very far from where they grew up. I didn’t have that gene. I was continuously searching for something or somewhere better. I’m not saying where I grew up was a lousy place.  More so, it was a beautiful place. Small town, USA. A farming community. A place where the stores closed on Wednesday afternoons and were open on Saturdays until noon. Nothing was open on Sundays except for a few restaurants and gas stations.  The town was growing and now when I visit I barely recognize the place. I might add, the traffic is horrible considering when my parents moved in there was only one traffic light in the city limits.

My searching for a better place started before I even graduated from high school.  I had no interest in college. I just wanted to find a job and save enough money to leave. Didn’t know where to, just go. And I was gone before I was twenty-one. I didn’t just move to another city. I not only moved to a different state, but I made it across the country to the west coast.  Seattle area was my stopping place. Yes the grass was greener there, but there was still something missing. Family maybe?  A year later I found myself back in my hometown.  It took me seven more years to leave again.

A lot of life events happened in those seven years, but there was still that longing to be somewhere else. I jumped at the chance to move with a job promotion.  Although happy there, the thought of somewhere better was still deep within me.

Through the years, I have lived in four more states and numerous cities. For years I would come to the mountains of Tennessee, North Carolina, and Georgia to vacation.  Camping, canoeing, kayaking, and hiking. Sever times I tried to talk my husband into moving to the area, but our jobs wouldn’t allow the move. Finally, I gave up. My time in Virginia was lovely. I spent many weekends in the Blue Ridge mountains. An opportunity came to live in Montana. A different like of beauty that almost killed the wanderlust in my veins.  Family duties moved us to Arizona. A desert is a magical place, but the heat is unbearable, even if it’s a dry heat.

When our family responsibilities came to an end, we started looking for a place to become our forever home. About time, no?  We spent hours upon hours scouring the internet looking at homes from Montana to the four corners of the Southwest, to the hill country of Texas. Then one day my husband suggested the northern mountains of Georgia. My first thought was humidity. NO! Nope, Not going to happen.  After weeks of him reminding me of how we use to vacation in the area in the summer, camping in a tent and we loved it, I finally gave in and said I would go look.

We packed up the dogs and truck and headed East! We had rented a cabin near Blue Ridge, Georgia. Even though it was winter and there was snow on the ground, I felt a peaceful calm come over me. Over the years, I had forgotten how these mountains affected me.  

A few months later we have moved into our forever home. I finally found a place that I never wish to leave. If I finish my life on this mountain, my life will be complete. I’m finally at peace with the paths I have taken. I have forgiven myself for my mistakes. I am thankful for all the good things that have happened to me and have put away all the bad stuff from the past.

I do not know if it was God who lead me here or fate, or I’m just lucky. One thing I know, this place finally killed the wanderlust from my body. Don’t get me wrong, I still have two places on my bucket list to visit, but this is home!

Then and Now

“Mama, I hate this dress. It’s scratchy. I want to be a boy!”

“Honey, you were born a girl. You can wear your cowgirl outfit this afternoon. There are just times we must dress like little girls. “

“Boys have more fun!”

In one form or another this conversation played out in my home for years. I so wanted to be a boy. I had no interest in dolls, or dresses, or having mom fuss over my hair. I wanted to sport a pair of blue jeans, a shirt and a six shooter on my hip. I can’t remember if mom made my cowgirl outfit or bought it, but I would bet money that she made it herself. She was a wonderful seamstress.  But there I was all decked out, just like Dale Evans.  Life was good.

Mom would drag me kicking and screaming into beautiful, ruffled dresses every chance she got. Holidays were a nightmare for this little tomboy. I’m sure that reference will offend many but back in the day, that was my label.  Sundays would find me in a prickly, scratchy, dress with my hair all curled up. I couldn’t be still in Sunday school from all the scratching that was going on.  Mom would tell me to stop, the material was soft. Soft for an elephant maybe.  It was the 1950s. No such thing as fabric softener. Only starch to make those petticoats stand out. She even bought me dolls to play with. Boring!

Over the years of me complaining about being a girl, not once did my parents ever say, “That’s okay Honey. You can be a boy.”  What the hell?

Don’t get me wrong, I understand there are people out there in the world that are gay. They have the need or wants to be with their own gender.  I have had gay friends tell me they knew from an early age that they were different. I once asked a gay male friend of mine if he dressed as a girl when he was a kid. His answer was…..ah no.  However, his partner told me he had.

I guess I’m just too old to understand this transgender stuff. My theory is if you are born with a penis, you are male. If you are born with a vagina, you’re a girl. Get over it. I did when I was about twelve. All along I knew I was never going to change into a boy. With parents that allowed me to play with toys that were considered boy’s stuff, I was satisfied.

But that was then, and now our world has changed. People are allowing their children to pick what gender they wish to be. I saw on a TV show the other night a child was saying they identify as gender Z. WTH is that? Zebra? Zillow?

All in all, there is just one human race. Two genders. Live by the golden rule and all will be good. How hard is that? 

A Different View

After a FaceBook conversation yesterday regarding a Confederate flag being flown at a home in a nearby city, I started thinking about the different views.

I was born in Detroit, Michigan, and grew up in Brighton, Michigan. My parents were from the South, as were many of my childhood friends
parents. Many of them moving to the North in the late 1930s or after WWII in search of better jobs. Our parents talked a little different; we ate a bit differently, drank sweet tea, and taught slightly different manners. I was once told by a school mate that I always had a Southern drawl. I never knew. My grandparents, most of my Aunts, Uncles, and cousins,
still lived in the South. Many of our family vacations were spent visiting family ‘down South’ we would say. It wasn’t until years later that I learned just how many of my school mates had Southern
roots also — more than I had ever
thought. I thought I was special.

All these years later, yesterday, I found myself defending a symbol of my heritage. I was told the Confederate flag stood for hate, slavery, intimidated minorities, and it should be in a museum. My classmate for all those years ago told me how that flag offended him.

Pushing seventy years of age, I have now lived my life longer in the South than the state where I grew up. I have lived in three different deep South states, which included five different cities. In all those places, in all the people I have met, not one has ever associated the Confederate flag with slavery. Not one has ever used the flag to intimidate another person. Not one has ever used it as a symbol of hate. Every single person I have ever known has thought of that flag as a symbol of their heritage. Even people of color looked upon the flag as part of their heritage.

I’m not sure if it’s the difference between rural and city people, but the people I have met, associated with, worked with, and have been friends with, regardless of our skin colors have always said, I’ve never owned a slave, my parents have never owned a slave, nor my grandparents
or great-grandparents. Same was told by the Blacks I have known, that they have never been a slave, their parents were never a slave, nor their grandparents or great-grandparents. They like the rest of us were merely trying to make a living, raise their children, and have a little more than their parents had.

Sure I heard stories of how things used to be, and it was once tough to make a living. But I also listened to the same type of stories from my father when he grew up in Arkansas. Those hard to find jobs was the reason he moved to Michigan in 1939. Was there racism in the
South, my parents taught me there was, but my father also told me of the race riots in Detroit long before I was born.

Are their hate groups that use the Confederate flag as their symbol for their hate? Sure. However, hate groups use other symbols too. Should be offended by their choice of symbols or by their actions? The KKK used white sheets as part of their identity, yet I still use white sheets on my bed. I know that sounds silly, but it makes a point. It’s not the object a group decides to use that we should be offended by but the actions of these people.

If you make a judgment of another human by what you see before you know them, are you not just as guilty of racism? On the nightly news, I see reports of violent, life-threatening attacks on people because they have a different political opinion. That offends me, not their black hoodies, their black scarves worn over their faces, or their backpacks.

Sadly, I believe this great country is heading for another civil war. We have a congress and many Americans that feeds off of hate. Blind hate. I say blind hate because there is no compromise or conversations, only hate for what the other side believes or wants. A fight between Liberals and Conservatives. This has been festering for forty or more years. Our being offended by everything is bringing it all to a head.

Some of you that just read my thoughts will say I have never experienced racism. When I first moved to the South, when I would go out shopping or out for dinner, the second I opened my mouth, I would hear, “Well, you’re not from around here, are ya?” It wasn’t said nicely. I once had a note left on my work station telling me to go back North. My co-workers couldn’t stand my Yankee accent. People made fun of the way I spoke all of the time. I was even called a nigger lover because I was friends with a black girl. But there are ignorant and hateful people everywhere. After
living years in the South, when I would go back home to Michigan, people would make fun of my Southern accent. For years I felt as if I had no home.

So are the thoughts of this older woman that has lived in eleven different states and numerous cities. There will always be haters, but try not to
be one. Don’t be offended by our heritage. as all of our forefathers did despicable things, many in the name of religion. Learn our history and learn from it. Stop sugar coating it and trying to cover it up. Don’t let it be forgotten, or we will fail again.

Remember, (stealing a line from a song), No
body’s right if everybody is wrong.

Things I Now Understand

Looking around my house yesterday I realized there were so many things I now understand that I just didn’t get years ago. The answers to these questions have come to me as I age. If you have or are asking an aging parent these questions, trust me, if you live long enough you will know and understand the answers.

Why isn’t my mother’s house as clean as it was when I was growing up?

The laundry is piling up.

The bathroom needs cleaning again??!!

Why aren’t the bushes trimmed?

You don’t fix your hair everyday because you’re not going anywhere?

Why are there three pairs of shoes by the front door?

How can you be tired of cooking?

How can you forget to eat?

What are you looking for?

Why are you just standing in this room looking around?

How can you be too tired to go for a ride in the car?

How can every joint hurt, you haven’t done anything but sit most of the day?

Why don’t you wear much makeup these days?

Why do you pee a little when you laugh, cough or sneeze?

How can pushing the vacuum around hurt your hips and back?

And the list goes on and on.

Lesson learned, don’t ask questions of us old people, just help us when you see we need help. Remember we were once healthy, vibrant, young people once, independent. Be careful of how you present your help. It’s hard for us to accept most of the time as in our minds we are still that young independent person.

Are These My Golden Years?

Each day I end and start each day with grand plans. Things I am going to accomplish. Only to find on most days, about halfway through my morning, plans and ideas have been set aside or gone with the wind. I ponder this morning if this is my golden years.

I understand the walking into a room and then standing there trying to remember why I walked in there to begin with. I get the putting something in a safe place and then looking for said item for hours or even days. I have learned to turn the TV down at night before I turn it off so I don’t deafen myself in the morning when my hearing seems to be a bit better.

Some things I do wonder about seems to have no answers. What happened to my once spic’n’span clean house? I look around to see dust on the furniture, the floors need swept and mopped, and oh my, I forgot to make the bed again today. Instead I find myself out on the porch or patio enjoying the outdoors.

Lucky me, I have enough things to wear that I don’t have to worry about doing laundry all the time. I was folding laundry the other day when my husband poked his head in and asked, “Do I have any clean underwear or should I go commando today?” My first thought was commando, recalling a more youthful time, but handed him a stack of clean laundry to be but away. I do tend to do laundry more than I care to just so I don’t have large piles to fold or hang up. If it wasn’t for that I would probably always be on the brink of going commando myself. Doing laundry isn’t on my list of fun things to do either.

Cooking is another thing that has lost its ranks of interesting and fun things to do. Rather it’s become a chore of, “What the hell are we going to eat today?” I am lucky to have a husband that cooks when I just can’t make myself step into the kitchen. Luckily, most of the time I could feed him a PB & J sandwich and he’s be just a happy. Thank goodness grilling is still something I enjoy a great deal and I do grill most of our dinners year round.

Please don’t get me wrong, I am not unhappy with my plot. That’s the trouble, I’m enjoying the slow paced, relaxing, watching the world go by, lazy, listening to the birds, have a glass of wine on the front porch life maybe just a little bit too much. Or maybe this is what the golden years is all about. I have friends my age and older that are still working. They say they do it because they love working. Different strokes for different folks as they say or once said.

Last night while sitting on the front porch enjoying a glass of wine, discussing the days events, (we went to town yesterday), while he enjoyed a cigar and a glass of scotch, I remembered how blessed I am to have reached this part of my life.

When I might not always fix my hair or even put on makeup before going to town. When I do house work when I get good and ready. I can stay in my night gown well past noon if I please. I don’t even own an alarm clock. I come and go as I please. I need not impress anyone with anything in my life. Acting silly in public is a pleasure and fun. Laughing at ourselves is the best thing ever and we try to do that as often as possible.

My goal is that one day the younger people that live near us will say, “Remember that old couple that lived in that house? They were always sitting out on their front porch, enjoying the day, and welcoming all that passed by.”

The only problems I see with the golden years, is that they take too long to get here and don’t last long enough. So my goal is to enjoy the hell out of them.

Guess What Day It Is?

Of the many National Days celebrated I picked this one. National Two Different Shoes Day. I’ve been celebrating for years.

I believe the first time was in 1984 or so. I was sitting at a desks at one of the stores I managed when a customer walked up to the counter. I was desperately trying to get my shoes back on that I had kicked off. With one shoe on and still fighting to get the other one on while smiling at the customer, I was finally forced to look down and see why my shoe wasn’t slipping on.

I looked at the shoe completely confused, “That’s not the shoes I put on this morning.” I looked at my other foot and realized I had two different shoes on. They were both white, but two different styles and with different heel heights. I completely lost it and was laughing so hard I started to cry. The customer looked at me like I had lost my mind. I finally regained enough composer to show him my shoes and say, “This is how my day is going, how’s yours?” Thank goodness he laughed too.

But that wouldn’t be the last time that in my hurry to get out the door on time and not be late for work, I would grab two different shoes. Always having the same result, me laughing my butt off and those around me laughing too.

The photo above I believe was the last time I found two different shoes on my feet. Or at least that’s the last time I noticed. This was four years after I retired so I’m not sure what the big hurry was that morning.

Shoes or not, matching or not, enjoy your days and remember to laugh at yourself.

What’s Funny?

This morning’s news reminded me that today is April Fool’s Day and I started wondering just what is funny these days? It would seem that just about everything I once laughed at, now offends someone. Is it me, that I didn’t change with the times or is it that everyone else has very thin skin these days?

What great fun we had back in the fifties and sixties playing jokes on each other. Even my parents would trick us, not only on April first but throughout the year. Afterwards we would laugh and laugh. Parents today are probably afraid to play tricks on their children in fear of being sued and the courts siding with the children.

Gone are the days of placing a plastic spider on someone’s shoulder and then telling them they have something on their shirt. What ever happened to the fake puddle of vomit? Or the spring loaded can of worms? I suppose those things would be too disturbing to our younger ones these days. Mother’s would be fainting and falling over like fainting goats.

While I was looking for the photo of the court jester for this article Danny Kaye’s photo popped up from his long forgotten movie of the same title. It brought a s mile to my face as I remember the silliness of such movies. I thought of Abbot and Costello, and of course the boys; The Three Stooges.

I think we have forgotten how to laugh. When we make light of something we ourselves have done, we are told we are shaming ourselves. If we can’t laugh at ourselves we have lost all sense of humor.

I wonder what ever happened to that fake plastic snake I once had? Carrying that over to my neighbor’s house today would be epic! Of course, Mr. T would probably kill it but wouldn’t that be great? Mr. T killing a plastic snake. April Fools!

National Mom and Pop Stores Day

Before, long before shopping malls, Kmart, Walmart, and on line shopping, most of us older than forty-five might be able to recall their favorite store. Many were owned and operated by mom and pop, aunts and uncles, or grandparents.

The first thing that popped into my mind today was the old country store my Aunt and Uncle owned and operated in Bonanza Arkansas. The one horse town where my mother was born. Where I grew up in Michigan we had local owned stores downtown but we lived two miles from town. We did not have the luxury of a country store.

What a thrill for a young girl of four or five to visit the family owned store. For years it served as store, gas station and post office to my recollection. Seems there was an old pot belly stove that heated the building, with chairs sitting around it. Again, I’m trying to remember back sixty-five years ago.

The one thing I remember most of all was the special treat we would get from our Uncle. Dr. Pepper soda pop. Dr. Pepper wasn’t available up North back in those days. When we would visit every year or so, having one of those cold drinks was a very special treat. Daddy would even buy some to take back home with us. There were held back for special occasions. Now days when you can walk into any store nation wide and buy one, they just don’t seem to taste as good. I still treat myself to one every now and then, which always brings back the memories of the old store and my family.

Sadly so many people will never know how it felt to walk into one of those family owned stores and be called by name. Or what it was like to stay and visit for a while, discussing the world news. No one got mad because someone else had a different opinion. Privately we might have thought that person was a real kook, but no hateful words were spoken.

I miss those days. Days when a soft drink was a treat. When people knew us at the local stores. When we took time to visit with people. When we could have discussions about anything without anyone going home mad.

Maybe with shopping malls going out of business and online shopping taking over, we will see an increase of the ol mom and pop stores make a comeback. Everything that goes round comes around, so they say. So maybe there is hope.

Medal of Honor


Today is National Medal of Honor Day.

Created in 1861, the Medal of Honor is the United States of America’s highest military honor.  It is awarded only to US military personnel, by the President of the United States in the name of Congress, for personal acts of valor above and beyond the call of duty.

great courage in the face of danger, especially in battle

Beyond the call of duty:
means to do a lot more than you are required or expected to to for your job.

This doesn’t mean you get a medal or trophy for showing up or participating. As a group, the last couple of generations have no idea what valor or beyond the call of duty actually means.

More so, as a group, honor hasn’t much meaning. I’ll explain. The greatest generation, and several generations afterward, would have never accepted a medal or trophy for just being in the right place at the right time. There would be no honor in such an act. My father would probably have knocked you on your tail if you had tried to give him a medal for teaching men how to swim during WWII. That was his job. And even though he taught men to swim who were terrified of the water and probably saved many lives in teaching people how to swim, he would have never taken a metal for doing his job.

Just try to remember if you know or see a person that has a medal of honor, that person went beyond their call of duty, facing great danger, and put the lives of others above their own. They faced their own death to help others.

Honor those men and women!

Too Much Fun

My first cruise was a real eye opener. I saw things I wish I could un-see and things I will keep in my mind forever. Granted I’m not young in years but my mind is still fairly young. Remember I was wild and free in the late sixties and early seventies. That should explain a lot. This cruise thing reminded me of such times. Everyone having a good time and not worried about what other people thought.

During our four days on board I had a multitude of random thoughts.

Did you look in the mirror before you left the room?

Wow, you are rocking that bikini!

Man, please put a shirt on!

Honey, some girls just shouldn’t be wearing a bikini.

Wow, what a beautiful dress.

The hallway just moved.

Where’s the Dramamine?

Five more dollars?

Oh hell, it’s only money.

It’s been a long time since I laughed until I cried.

She’s so pretty.

Wow, he’s so handsome.

Conga line, sure why not.

My feet hurt.

My hip hurts.

I could do that once upon a time.

I won! I won!

Can’t wait until I can go on another cruise!

I’m too old for this kind of vacation.

I’ll let you all fill in the blanks. It was a great time. I kind of wish we had taken a longer cruise but when I looked at my swollen feet and ankles last night after I got home I thought maybe not.

The cruise industry has their act together for sure. Too bad the rest of the world can’t live and work like the crew on ships. Life would be so much more fun and polite.

It’s Not 1918,Just Stop It!

The other day I needed to measure 39 inches. I was in a fix as I only had a yard stick. In case you forgot, a yard stick is 36 inches.

So, I cut the first three inches off the stick and glued it to the end. After the glued dried, I took out my ruler which is 12 inches, and laid it down on the adjusted yard stick, and holy crap, the ruler fit three times. Again in case you forgot, 3 x 12 = 36. WTH?

The same theory can be used with this Daylight Saving Time. It doesn’t matter what your clock says, you still only have a certain amount of daylight for each day. Why is that so hard to figure out?

Just pick a time, either Standard Time or Daylight Saving Time and leave it be. Our world moved right along before someone got the idea of moving the clocks forward for a few months then moving them back. Do we really need this in this day and age?

It saves energy they say. We are not living with equipment, appliances, and furnaces of 1918 when this all started. Gives us more daylight. Ya want more daylight, then get up earlier. It’s summer, you’ll naturally have more daylight. It’s for the farmers, they say. Sorry, but I don’t know any farmers that don’t start their day at daylight and work till dark, no matter what their clocks say.

There are more people that suffer physically from this time change than not. Time to stop this nonsense.

I’m One Lucky Woman

This weekend I was reminded just how lucky I have been during my years on this earth. Having lived all over this great country of ours, along the way I have met hundreds of people. People from all walks of life have touched my life.

I have always felt blessed to have friends I have known for over forty years and we seldom see each other but when we do it’s like we were never apart. This weekend I was reminded of that again when I saw a good friend that I have not seen in twenty years. The moment I wrapped my arms around her it was as if those years melted away.

If anyone would ask me who’s your best friend, I would not be able to answer that honestly. Although I don’t have a lot of friends, the ones I have kept all are my best friends for one reason or another. I’ve also been lucky enough to have some from one State meet ones from another State. That doesn’t happen often in life either.

It’s not how great your friend list is, it’s how great your friends are. Although my number of friends may not be many, my friends are priceless. We all love unconditionally. We look over our many faults, forgive our sins, and always keep on loving.

The only reason, well maybe not the only reason I’d like to win the lottery, but if I did, I’d gather up all my friends from far and wide and I’d take us all on a grand vacation together. We would sit around and share stories, drink good wine, eat good food, and laugh until our jaws hurt.

Yes, I’m one lucky woman in more ways than I can count but having wonderful friends is right there on top.

Oh, Hell Yeah!

Not to worry, I’m not going to go off on Hollyweird not matter how much I truly want to rant about the silliness of actors and their fans. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I once was someone that could be star struck. Until I grew up and realized none of them are nothing special, just regular folks that happen to have a job that makes them famous or makes them think they are smarter and better than the rest of us. Nope, I’m not going to comment on the outrageous amounts of money that was spent on something so silly as a big party to say how great we are and pat ourselves on the back. I won’t mention the hideous outfits. Most of them need someone that looks at them and tells the truth, “That outfit looks like you are wrapped in the kitchen curtains.” Speaking of kitchen……..

No, I’m here to tell you, it’s National Chocolate Covered Nuts day! Oh, hell yes! Shouldn’t we have one of these at least once a month or weekly? Let’s face it, for a real chocolate lover, anything covered with the chocolate of your choice makes whatever it is perfect! My husband once told me I’d eat rabbit poop if it was covered with chocolate. Now I draw the line at some things, but I would try chocolate covered insects or such. Why not?

The first time I tried chocolate covered coffee beans I thought I might pass out. My very favorite things in the whole world, chocolate and coffee! Mocha coffee is okay but the coffee bean thing sent me to a very happy place. How can there be so much strife in the world and hate when there is such a thing as chocolate covered coffee beans?

Sadly, because I have had an ongoing fight since I was about twelve years of age trying to keep my weight down, such treats are few and far between. Seriously, if I ate and drank the things that I love, I would be trying out for that TV show, My 600 Pound life.

It’s a good think I live fifteen miles from town, or I would be tempted to run to the store and pick up some chocolate covered nuts to celebrate the day. Instead, I’ll just look at the photo and drool.

Rain and Shine

On the tenth day the people awoke with clear blue skies above and beautiful golden rays of sunshine, warming their faces and souls. And so it was across the mountains and valleys, from region to region, happiness fell upon the citizens. They lifted their heads and said thanks.

A story from Ancient Cultures? No, stories from the Southeast today. I now understand why ancient cultures worshiped the sun. Where would mankind be without the magnificent star? Giver of life, warmth, food, and energy. Causing hearts and souls to rejoice at its beauty.

The old saying, ‘into each life some rain must fall,’ got a little carried away this past month or so. And although we were teased with some half days of sunshine this winter, we have seen more clouds and rain than not.

And so this day started with a promise of sunshine as the clouds slowly disappeared and the sun rose above the mountains to the east. I stood on my back porch and allowed the sun to warm my face. Oh, how I missed you, I thought.

I’ve always been a lover of sunrises and sunsets but today I realized just how much I take the sun for granted. As long as I can remember, it has always been there. Leading me to happy days under its spell. Punishing me with sunburned skinned when I played too long in its light. Making me sleepy when I allowed myself to lie under its beams of light.

But it also gave me hope. Hope that winter would soon bloom into spring. New life would sprout from the ground. Its warmth causing the birds to sing with all their being. Time to mate and bring forth new life.

True, we all have been complaining about too much rain and gloomy skies, yet without these things would we really appreciate the sunshine?

Humans are fickle. When the rain comes we want sun. If the sun shines to hot and long we beg for rain. Cries for snow gives way for pleas for spring rebirth.

No matter what you believe, how you worship, or even if your don’t, remember life is good rain or shine!

Deer Delimma

For the past month or so we have had days upon days of rain, with only short breaks in-between. This morning, for the first time in days it wasn’t raining when I went to let the dogs outside for their morning potty. As always, I step out on the porch first and scan the area for the local wildlife. Don’t need either of my girls running out to meet the pair of foxes, or raccoons, or the coyotes that roam our mountain. Also there have been bear up here in the past.

Usually though, it’s just several of our local deer, munching on my or the neighbor’s shrubs. During all this rain, I haven’t seen the deer seem to be sticking to the lower parts of our mountain. I have seen them several times on my way to town. However, this morning as I quietly opened the door, I saw four of the beautiful white tails at the far end of our yard. They heard the door but didn’t see me.

Stealthily, as much as I could in my big red fluffy bathrobe, I eased out onto the front porch, placing myself between a porch post and their view. If you saw the movie True Lies, it resembled Tom Arnold’s character hiding behind the lamppost. Not such good cover, but it was working this morning.

There I stood watching the beautiful creatures as they munched on the grass and calmly walked over to the neighbors yard. They knew something was watching them but still could not see me in the darkness of my porch.

I watched the usual large doe with her twins from last year who are growing to full size and an extra smaller one. I looked back at my front door and both my dogs were sitting, watching me, patiently waiting for me to let them out. I knew if I let them out while the deer were there, the chase would be on and everyone but me would be running down the steep drop off behind my neighbors house.

My dilemma was, scare the deer off and let the girls outside, or let the deer keep eating and make the girls wait for their potty call. My girls big brown eyes won out in the end, as this was their first time out to potty after sleeping all night. They had already waited on their mom to get her act together, I wouldn’t make them wait on the deer.

I stepped out so the deer could see me, and four white tails flew straight up as they disappeared over the ridge. The girls ran outside side as I opened the door, never the wiser.

If only all dilemmas in life were resolved this easily!

Hola, Guess What Day it Is?

It’s another, “I’ll drink to that,” kind of day. Yep, NATIONAL MARGARITA DAY

So I’m thinking I should be on a beach drinking a cold, tall, refreshing Margarita, but here I sit in Georgia. I’m starting to think Georgia is an old Indian word for ‘never stops raining.’ I have lost count as to how many days it has rained this year but far exceeds any sunny days by a long shot.

Maybe I’ll make mine a Strawberry Margarita as the lime color reminds me of the mold and mildew that is starting to grown on everything from all the rain and lack of sun.

It is said that the margarita being invented in 1938 by Carlos “Danny” Herrera at his restaurant Rancho La Gloria, halfway between Tijuana and Rosarito, Baja California, created for customer and former Ziegfeld dancer Marjorie King, who was allergic to many spirits, but not to tequila.

I find that I may be allergic to tequila also. Seems that after a few shots of this clear liquid I tend to do crazy things. Reminds me of the old Dottie West song Jose’ Cuervo. I too have been known to dance on the tables but I never shot out any lights.

So on this day, I salute who ever invented the Margarita, Tequila, and even Dottie West for bring to light that tequila can make you do some wild and crazy things. At my age I now just sit back, sip my drink and watch the world go by. Today, I’m watching it rain.

Blessed Be The Caregivers

What do you see when you look at these hands? Many will see the old, tired hands of an old person. If you study closely you may see something else. These hands were once young and small. Exploring new things, playing with toys or writing school lessons. Maybe they held a lover’s hands or a bouquet of flowers at a wedding. They may have changed too many diapers, planted gardens, prepared meals, or held grandchildren. I see the hands of a caregiver. These hands did all the things helping to take care of their siblings, their husband, their children, their parents, their grandchildren.

I see that after all her accomplishments in life, now these hands need a caregiver. Someone to help her remember to take her medications, making sure she makes it to her next doctor’s appointment, or even reminding her to eat her dinner.

The circle of life isn’t always a pretty sight but it’s always there. Today is National Caregiver Day. Until you have this responsibility, you have no idea how a loving act can be so demanding.

I believe caregivers should be celebrated more than once a year. It takes a special kind of person to take on this roll. They need reminded that they need to take care of themselves first. They need to be healthy in body and spirit to endure the things they face. They need encouragement and a pat on the back for a job well done.


I’m going to age myself several ways today pertaining to the National Boy Scout Day or National Kite Flying Day. Probably going to piss some people off too while I’m at it but I’m old and well, I say just about anything I want.

First of all, how can we still have a National Boy Scout Day when just the other day I heard that it’s no longer Boy Scouts, but just Scouts. The being because now girls can join the ‘Boy Scouts’. I guess I’m old fashion, no wait, no guessing about it. Boys are boys and girls are girls. Only two genders in my book. I find nothing wrong with having two different scout organizations. I don’t care if you choose to admit it or not, there are just some things that men/boys can do easier and better than women/girls. Standards or requirements should not be lowered so one gender can accomplish the requirements.

I totally understand the kite flying day was to celebrate the joys of flying a kite. To watch it sail into the sky, floating on air currents, it makes one joyful. However, I’m going back to my youth, to a very old fashion way of telling someone they are annoying and should go away. We would tell them to “go fly a kite.”

With that in mind, I’d like to tell all the promoters of this movement of girls being boy scouts, to just go fly a kite.

Something’s Happening Here

Yep, it’s National Lame Duck day. Just to educate myself on where this term came from I did a little looking. Here is what I found.

The term “lame duck” originated as a description of stockbrokers in 1700s England who could not pay off their debts. The name later carried over to those in business who, while known to be bankrupt, would continue to do business.

In politics a lame duck is a person currently holding a political office who has either:

  • lost a re-election bid
  • chosen not to seek another term
  • been prevented from running for re-election due to a term limit
  • holds a position that has been eliminated

Prior to the ratification of the 20th Amendment to the United States Constitution, there was for Congress a 13-month delay between election day and the day the newly elected officials took office. In the case of a lame duck, this was a 13 month notice his or her job was terminating crippling their influence. Hence the ‘lame’ or injured duck.

With that in mind, Buffalo Springfield came to mind this morning and I think they had it right, more for today than even back then.

There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down There’s battle lines being drawn
Nobody’s right if everybody’s wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behindIt’s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going downWhat a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our sideIt’s s time we stop, hey, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going downParanoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you’re always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you awayWe better stop, hey, what’s that sound
dy look what’s going down

What’s not to like about this day?

Behold, a National day that in my youth I would have celebrated without any fear. Youth, I miss you. The slimmer body, the smooth skin, the nicely shaped legs, breasts that didn’t visit my stomach when I ditched the bra, shinny, hair and lovely nails. Who wouldn’t celebrate National Shower with a friend day?

Slowly, but surely the signs of aging sneaks up on one and all of a sudden an older version of yourself stairs at you in the mirror. You know it when full length mirrors disappear from your home!

Shower with a friend? I don’t even like showering with myself. A daily reminder that youth has escaped me and the golden years, well as Betty Davis once said, they are not for sissies.

Maybe we no longer share the shower, we do share the bathroom. I’m sure that counts in my age bracket. The best thing about being married to your best friend is that the fun never stops. We may not have the hot, steamy love scenes you see on TV or in the movies, but we still have the snapping each other with a damp towel. Every now and then one of us gets a cold splash of water over the top of shower curtain. And many days one of us greets the other one with a fresh new towel as the other turns off the water. In my opinion, it doesn’t get much better than that.

The ironic part of all of this is that in our youth we could not afford a large walk in shower where two would fit easily and no one had to bet out in the cold. Now, we are fortunate enough to have a lovely walk in shower, not only large enough for both of us but both dogs would fit in there too, our main goal is not to fall and have a bench to sit on so we can wash our feet.

Enjoy your day and your shower.

Who comes up with this stuff?

Remember the other day when I said that some days have several “National” day this or that. Well it seems the panel of people that decide what day this is got a bit carried away with February first. Today when I looked this is what I found:


Before reading what each day was about and how to observe, I had my own version.

National wear red day, brought to you by the garment worker’s union. Go to your local department store and buy a new red shirt and wear it.

National get up day brought to you by Alarm clocks of the world. I’m thinking any day you wake up above ground is a celebrations in itself.

National Freedom day. Very important as I’m lucky enough to be born and still live in a country where I can say and write about anything I want and not get into too much trouble, unless I post something on Face Book. That’s a whole other story.

National Texas day brought to you by the group Little Texas. All said in their song:

God blessed Texas With His own hand Brought down angels from the promised land Gave ’em a place where they could dance
If you want to see heaven, brother, here’s your chance
I’ve been sent to spread the message
God blessed Texas. Apparently, Little Texas has never traveled through West Texas….I rest my case.

National Bubble Gum day brought to you by Bazooka. If I have to explain that to you, you might be too young to read this.

National Baked Alaska Day. Just what in the hell is a baked Alaska? Desert or breakfast? Baking ice cream always sounded like a mess in my over to me. Isn’t melted ice cream sort of like milk or sweat cream? So confused.

National Serpent Day, oh my lord and little fishes. Is this some kind of devil worshiping? I don’t even want to look at that explanation. Scary.

Now here’s one of interest, National Self-Check day. Oh my mind goes to so many places, and probably not anywhere near what will be advised on how to observe this day. I picture ladies checking their hair and makeup, looking in the mirror to see if their outfit makes their butts look big and guys, well just adjusting the family jewels. That’s how my brain works.

National Enroll Agents Month. Thank goodness, the FBI is finally seeing just how stupid their actions has been lately and they are trying to enroll new agents with some sense.

Last but not least is National Fasting Day. Yeah, right. I fast everyday, between breakfast and lunch and between lunch and dinner. Have you ever tried fasting? I’m sure that some pencil thin woman who says she forgets to eat thought of this. Who the hell forgets to eat? I tend to forget when to stop eating. Guess that’s why I checked this morning to see if my outfit made my butt look big. Rude awakening, it’s my big butt that makes my butt look big.

As for me, I’m going to celebrate the National Get Up Day. Get up, get going, love your family and your friends. Make a stranger smile and be kind. That’s a good way to celebrate every day and maybe blow a few bubbles.


I’ve heard said that life is about choices, and so is today. January 20, is YAD DRAWKCAB LANOITAN or National Inspire Your Heart With Art Day. It appears I have been living the backward day most of my life, in the fact that I always seem to choose the hardest path to any solution. I suppose it’s a good day to reverse my path and go in a different direction but inspire my heart with art seems much easier and will probably have a better outcome.

Art comes in many forms and I try to surround myself with different things. From the simple paintings my mother and Aunt made many years ago, to the latest painting from a local artist, pottery and little antique pieces. I have some of my own paintings and and photography. Some of the paintings picked up over the years are calming and relax me while others remind me of past experiences.

Want to celebrate, but don’t know just how, here are some suggestions:

  • Visit an art gallery.
  • Read a good book.
  • Listen to music.
  • Attend a ballet performance
  • Start your masterpiece.
  • Teach someone how to play an instrument.
  • Attend an art lecture.
  • Explore a new technique.
  • See an inspirational film.
  • Share your art with others.

If you live out in the country as I do, many of these things are out of the question, but you can turn on that radio and enjoy your favorite music. Or pick up that book you started reading a while back. (Hopefully it’s one of mine.)

Of course it being National Backwards day also, I just saw on the TV news it’s also National Hot Chocolate day. If I had known I may have reversed my direction and written about Hot Chocolate. Can chocolate be an art form? Now that is worth celebrating.


I’m so glad I looked at today’s calendar. Who knew it was National Croissant Day? Could be fancy roll day for all I knew. Add 231 more calories to your diet day would work too.

Who makes up these days? Is there a committee that sits around a large table making up this stuff up? I miss the good old days of calendars that only showed the days of the week and Federal or National holidays. You remember the ones, New Year’s Day, Washington and Lincoln’s birthday, Memorial Day and so on. Geese, now we have combined the birthday’s to have President’s Day.

We also on most days get to pick out what National Day we want to take notice as most days have several choices. January 30th, must have been one of those days that the committee was bored. There is only one title while yesterday had four or five titles to pick from.

Are these days only for American’s or do other countries celebrate too? Do the French celebrate a Croissant Day or is everyday a celebration of this fancy roll?

Is it necessary to run to the local grocery store or bakery and pick up a few croissants for dinner tonight? I already have a Mexican dish on the menu. Maybe I should have conferred with the calendar first? Maybe I should have made French Fries for dinner?

Don’t jump to any conclusions as I just read, ” “The croissant began as the Austrian kipfel but became French the moment people began to make it with puffed pastry, which is a French innovation,” says Chevallier. … Legend credits the French queen Marie Antoinette—homesick for a taste of her native Vienna—with introducing the kipfel, and thus the croissant, to France.

Maybe I should serve the little pastries more often since my Grandfather came here on a ship from Austria. That I knew!

One Day It Just Happened

In the beginning it was always with me, the fear, the wondering, and the questions. The fear of it coming back. The not knowing if or maybe just when. Always something or someone to remind me. Never really looking in the mirror, as the scar was burned into my mind. It was always there, up front and foremost.

Then one day, it wasn’t. I don’t even know what that happened. I supposed it happened when talking about it all became easier. To answer questions regarding the discovery or the surgery became a matter of fact. No longer embarrassed by the lopsidedness. No longer embarrassed by the scars.

Then one day I realized I hadn’t thought about any of it for a long time. It was a day that I happened to look at the calendar and noticed another year had passed. Another year of being cancer free.

And so today started, knowing today marks the 11th year of my mastectomy. Eleven years of cancer free living. Several years of all the fear, questions and wondering gone. Now just something that was in my past. Something that pops up in conversations every now and then but without fear. Mostly when someone comments on the other tattoo I have on the back of my neck that celebrated my fifth year. A year of importance in the breast cancer world.

I am blessed in so many ways. I was diagnosed early, lymph nodes were all clean, needed no chemo or radiation, I had the loving support of my husband, daughter and many friends. With all of that I found it hard to look too far into the furture, but here I am eleven years later.

Happy Anniversary to me and to everyone that is celebrating being cancer free for any amount of time: a week, a month, a year or years! It’s a great day to be alive.

Why Do I Laugh?

The only excuse I can come up with, is that my mother always said, “Might as well laugh about it because crying never solved much of anything.”

So has been my life, me laughing at the most inappropriate times. How can anyone find something funny at a funeral and yet I seem to have that knack. Which doesn’t seem to be such a bad thing in these times of celebrations of life. But back in the day when funerals were a somber affair, I’ve had many people laying the ol evil eye on me as I choke back laughter of a memory of the dear departed. I can’t count the times I’ve had my hand squeezed in disapproval, in other works, shut up Dawn! This is not the time and place to laugh.

And so was it this past Saturday. After eight or nine hours of a steady hard sideways rain beating the South side of our house, it appeared that the wind had let up some. We were sitting at the bar finishing up our dinner when I noticed water in the floor. Strange little puddles in a place where no water should be. I said not a work until I confirmed my suspicions. Having to tell my husband we had a leak in the roof was not something I was looking forward to.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he’s a tyrant or such. The fact is he’s all but disabled with several issues with his spine. Climbing ladders, bending and physical labor, including even bending over to tie his shoes is very painful. But the bubble of water under the paint and drywall was nothing we could ignore.

To make matters worse this had to happen where the tall part of the house meets the roof of the main level. No way to get to up there except my extension ladder. After a few minutes of tearing away the wet drywall, there was finally a hole large enough that Kev could get his head into a better position with his flashlight to view the suspicious place. With me standing below him, holding the ladder to make myself feel better about him being six feet off the floor, the power went out.

And then it happened! I started to laugh. First let me tell you, up here on the mountain when we loose power it’s dark, like pitch black dark. Even when we have power it’s dark as we have no street lights up here. So here I stand, in the dark as Kev has his head stuck up in the whole in the ceiling along with the beam from the flashlight. I was thinking, ‘Really power company? Now?’

Of course now! Couldn’t be more fitting. I start to chuckle to myself. Might as well laugh, right? But that came to a quick halt when Kev pulled his had out of the hole and realized the house was dark. I supposed he was wondering why I had turned off the lights as he asked if we had lost power. I will not repeat the names he called the power company but sailors would have run from our house.

With me again holding the ladder, this time outside while Kev went up on the roof to nail an old shower curtain over the place where the rain was leaking in, I said several prayers that he would not slide off the roof. I was totally relieved when I heard him coming back to the ladder. The ladder and I were on the front side of the house where the rain was blowing over.

As he reached the ladder I looked up and realized it had stopped raining. “So now it stops raining!” Kev says.

“Well, at least the place is covered and the lights are back on,” I say as I bust out in laughter.

Thank goodness my husband loves me because at this point anyone else laughing might have had second thought about laughing at the situation.

The good news is after several phone calls, the problem is fixed, no more water running in as it rained again three days later. Now, we just have to get the drywall repaired and painted.

Rude Awakening

Having spent most of my adult like working like a fool, long hours for many weeks and months. I’ve held down jobs that most men would not physically do. I worked twelve plus hours then went home and worked around the house. After all, I was raised to believe hard work never killed anyone. Who was the fool that said that?

Okay, so maybe I’m not dead and I’ll soon be sixty-nine years old. I refuse to say I’m going to be sixty-nine years young. Another foolish saying. We would all like to think sixty-nine is the new forty-nine but it’s not! A lesson well learned this morning as I attended a water aerobics class.

Now granted, I’ve pretty much been a couch potato or slug as I like to say, since I had back surgery last summer. Seems that I just got over the surgery when my hip decided it was their turn to announce that I’m not a spring chick any longer. Sweet, another excuse to be a lazy slug.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve noticed that just walking the dogs was not as easy as it once was even though my hip had given up on being painful. How can this be, after all I’m not even seventy? Oh, the silly things we ask and tell ourselves.

Okay, I give myself a pep talk. There must be a gym/pool here in the mountains somewhere that accepts my Silver Sneakers program from my Medicare Advance Insurance. Dammit, another excuse down the drain, as there is a facility not far away that has just what I’m looking for: water aerobics.

Today was my first day. I won’t say I was the youngest of the group but I was pretty far down the list. I’ve got this, I told myself. After all I use to go to water aerobics when I lived in Arizona two years ago. Plus I swam before class. Class had already started as I was four minutes late arriving. I was greeted with great big smiles and lots of welcomes. I was feeling really good about this.

I jumped right in and joined the group. All was well until I realized the eighty-five-year-old lady who had introduced herself was running circles around me as she talked. Actually running in the water while pumping her Styrofoam barbells. Yep, she was kicking my ass and smiling at me at the same time. Thank God the instructor said that everyone goes at their own pace here. If you need to slow down, then slow down.

Thank goodness, as I was pondering if my face hitting the water when I passed out from lack of oxygen would wake me up. So I slowed down a bit, which was a rude awakening. Me having to slow down? Then I found myself in a fight with a water noodle. Shamefully, I must confess that the water noodle kicked my ass too. Surely, no one over the age of seven can actually stand on a water noodle? I was proved wrong as while still fighting with my noodle, I noticed not only the eighty-five year old woman preforming the exercise, but so was everyone else. Kindly, the older lady turned to me and said for me not to worry about the noodle thing. It takes practice.

I can’t even begin to explain the relief I found when the instructor announced for all of us to go back to the shallow end of the pool. We all placed our noodles on the side of the pool and begin doing our cool down stretches. Praise the Lord, I’ve made it to the end of the class.

With big smiles most of the others asked if I would be back on Wednesday. I wanted to say, if I can move. But, I smiled back stating I was surely try and expressed how much I enjoyed the hour.

Only an hour? I thought I would need help getting up the pool’s ladder. My muscles felt like jello and I felt the need of a nap. Soon I was dressed and in my car heading home, thinking that I was going to be fine and Wednesday didn’t sound too horrible. After all I could rest on Tuesday!

As I drove the twenty miles home, I realized that I will have to skip the class on Wednesday as I need to drive my husband to the eye doctor that morning. I tried not to smile but the slug in me took over. I have till Friday to recover. Life is good.

39 Years and Still Kicking

If you would have told me thirty-nine years ago that one day I would be retired and living in the beautiful Smokey Mountains I would have thought you were stoned or crazy. Even more so if you would have told me that I would write several books. I couldn’t even keep a journal back then. I would start one and a few weeks into it, I would think, no one wants to read this stuff.

As thirty-nine years ago today, I was in the middle of a grand opening of a truck stop in North Canton, Ohio. A day I also marked as the day I quit smoking.  Why not add just a bit more stress to the day? Sounded like a great plant to me.

I don’t remember much about the opening, just that I remember I now held a job were I could afford a nice townhouse for my daughter and myself. Even after paying all the expenses, I still had a bit of money left over at the end of the month. Usually I had more days than money. 

I had moved away from my home town and state to begin a new chapter in my life. I was too young and dumb or too sure of myself to be scared. I knew not a soul in my new town but my guardian angel must of been with me as I ended up in a nice neighborhood and a wonder sitter for my four year old daughter. 

Sitting here this morning, I look back at all the places I’ve been, the people I have known, the things I have experienced, the choices I made, some of which were great adventures, others…well I keep on trying.

Once again I packed up, moved to a place where this time we, (my husband and I) moved to a place where we knew not a soul. But I have found peace in this place. It has given me time to reflect and enjoy. When it seems that all is wrong with the world, I look out over the mountains and breathe easily. I surely didn’t take the easy road or the less traveled, but I’ m here and grateful. 

People ask me how I could move so far away from my family and friends. I don’t know how to answer that other than we just packed up and went. I know not what the future holds for me. This may not be my last home. I can only hope. But in the meantime, it’s the best place for my soul. Giving me a time to reflect on things that happened thirty-nine years ago and all that has happened since. 

I am now keeping that journal and I’m probably right, no one wants to read that stuff but from that comes more ideas on other books. I just need to stop enjoying my surroundings and get to writing.  Oh look…..there are some deer feeding out back!

What Happened

Again today I find myself asking the same question I’ve been asking for a
while now. No one seems to be able to give me an answer.

I spent my teens and early twenties in a country much divided politically
with war taking the lives of Americans. People had different
opinions, different beliefs, and a different ideology.  Many protested and
yes there were riots, but I never
experienced the inability to converse with each other.

Many nights I spent in at times heated conversations on all current events, including politics. No one ever got mad
and went home. No one ever called anyone names or insinuated the other person was ignorant.  No one ever,
“if you feel that way I can’t be friends with you.” If we were friends, we accepted we were different and
remained friends.  This is now from
what I’m experiencing a thing of the past.

The sad thing is: the negative, no tolerance for anyone that doesn’t think
and feel like I do is not someone I want to be friends with any longer is
coming from the same people that once sat around discussing world events. The same people that vowed to make the world a better
. Wanted all to be open-minded.

Several months ago while I waited for my oil change, I sat with three strangers in the dealership waiting room
discussing religion and politics.  There was no yelling, no name calling,
no one got mad and walked out, and at the
end when our names were called, we all
said it was nice talking with them and wished each one a good day.

Complete strangers! And yet, people I
know say they can’t discuss politics with anyone;
too upsetting. I’ve been told
they can’t stand to even talk with the other side. Side? I thought we were all

When people say they can’t understand how anyone can support or believe what
another person is saying, do they not think the other person might be feeling the same way? How can we ever come to terms
with our differences if we refuse to discuss those very differences in a respectful manner?  

Someone, please explain what has
happened to us. People I thought were kind-hearted,
and caring are spouting hate to and about
anyone that doesn’t see eye to eye with them.
People have told me they get physically sick to their
stomach to even think about politics.  No
one is open-minded enough to try and see
the other person’s point of view.

If this is the state of our future, we are in big trouble. Everyone can’t be right if everyone is
wrong. We can’t hear others because of the
outraged voices from our mouths.  There
can be no compromise if we can’t hear the other person.  Once in a while, we need to shut up and
listen before we make up our minds.

What happened?


Hit the Escape Button

Maxine 0059

We as a nation seem to be addicted to 24/7 news, true or not. We look at our phones, tablets, laptops, desktops, and televisions constantly.  Seems people have chosen sides and stand fast not willing to even listen any other views or opinions. People are unfriending others not only on the internet but in their lives because of different opinions. This is not the country I grew up in.

In the past few years I have heard and read words from friends I have known almost all my life and would have never thought these people could be so hateful to others that have a different opinion. These actions are towards people they know which makes me wonder how they act towards strangers?

It doesn’t matter what political party you declare yourself to stand with if you allow their beliefs to install hate for your fellow humans into your heart and mind, I think you should rethink your political standings.

It’s hard for me to understand how you can speak of love, peace and the love for other humans out of one side of your mouth and then speak hateful things for anyone that doesn’t believe as you do out of the other side of your mouth.

During the Bush and Obama years, there was many things I didn’t like or even hated. I disagreed with many. I never once wished anyone dead, unfriended them unless they attacked me, didn’t call anyone stupid, again unless they attacked me personally, or did I spread hate and wish our President dead. I didn’t wish bad things to happen to his children or wife.

I’ll be the first one to admit that I made jokes and light of things said and done by Bush, Obama and yes our President now.

How can people say they have love in their heart when they are wishing or asking for bad things to happen to another human being?

It’s time to escape from it all. I’ve decided I’m going to shut down for several hours a day, everyday to escape it all. No TV, no internet, no radio, no phone. Done. I’m replacing all the hatred and discontent with peace and quiet.





A question I ask myself too many times a day but last night is still bothering me. Have I totally lost my mind?

I was unloading the dishwasher when I noticed one of the clips that hold part of the upper tray together had come loose. I took it out of the dishwasher, looked at it and told my husband he would have to fix my new dishwasher.  I never left the kitchen area where I was standing. I continued to empty the dishwasher. About two minutes later my husband walked from the family room to where I was standing, all of about ten feet, and asked me, “What part?”

And just like that……it was gone. We searched the kitchen area high and low. Emptied the garbage and went through every item in the can. I looked three or four times in places where my husband had just looked two or three times. We looked in every cupboard and drawer. We looked under things and in things. The piece just disappeared. Gone. Vanished into thin air.

Finally, after about an hour of both of us searching, I got online and ordered the little part. No, let me phrase that. I got online looking for the part only to find out I have to order the whole top drawer assembly so the washing wand stays in place. I ended up having to spend forty dollars on a three-cent plastic part.

I’m a little upset about that but more so, I’m upset that I can lay something on the counter and three minutes later I have no idea where I laid it or what I did with the part. Then I had to listen to my darling husband nag me.

For years he has lost things in the house. Swears up and down he put something here or there. “We have a black hole in the house that swallows up his things.” However, I usually find them where he laid it down and forgot. Last night I had to hear about the black hole theory again, only it was something I had lost for a change. Mind you, I don’t have a large kitchen and had never moved from the sink and dishwasher area. The part has just disappeared. Poof. Gone!

I’m thinking about installing baby monitors all over our house and workshop so we can go back through the videos and find our things.

Now, where did I set my coffee cup?


Coming Tomorrow!!



All the hard work is over, the tune-up completed, a few test drives have been taken, the reviews have been promising, and tomorrow is the big day.

I would say I feel like a proud new parent, but I gave birth to this baby a while back. With the re-release of this book, with a fresh new look, and professional editing, my baby has grown into an adult, with great promises for an exciting future.

Any of you that are not an author probably think my referring to my books as my babies but as with anything you pour your time, sweat, and heart into, you feel as if it’s a part of you.

When people say the reason they write isn’t for the glory and money, it’s because they love to write, I give thought to this. Yes, I like writing, won’t say, love, because some days it’s a chore to make the words come to life. Almost hating every minute spent on my computer. Then the days when the words come free and easy, I do love it. It’s a love/hate relationship.

Now, as far as the glory, sure don’t all authors dream of being on the New York Best Selling list? I do. Better yet, wouldn’t it be wonderful if some movie director thought one of my books would make a great movie? Ah, the things dreams are made of.

Pull in the reins! A best seller on Amazon would be fantastic.

Here is a little something about Deadly Friend:

Following the horrific events in MRPERFECT.COM, Dawn thought she would never escape the demons that had haunted her every waking moment. But months of therapy finally freed her from the memories, allowing her and John to start their lives afresh with a new home in a new town. Slowly making new friends and gaining the confidence to take a part-time bar job, life was better than it had been for a long time.

Then, the past Dawn had tried so hard to forget caught up with her.

Awaking to her worst nightmare, beaten, bound and bloody, Dawn dared not move, fearing she would wake the monster in the room.

The man sleeping in the chair looked like her friend. Something was horribly wrong.



Needed a Tune-up, now runs smoothly.

Proudly I have announced the release of Deadly Friend: book two. Many have asked me if I hadn’t already written a sequel to  That answer was yes. I’d like to explain.

Have you ever driven a car that needed a tune-up? The car still ran, got you to where you were going, but it missed fired on occasions, was a little jumpy, had a bit of a time starting, and when you stopped, it felt like the car didn’t want to shut down properly.

Although I felt like both my books were good stories, they needed a tune-up. I’m not a world-renowned author with dozens of editors and proof-readers on my staff. I was just an Indie Author trying to tell a good story. I had a couple cheap editors, and let me say, ya get what you pay for, but my budget had me stuck in place. My books were in need of a tune-up by some professionals.

A friend of mine suggested I submit to Junction Publishing. I hesitated for a bit, then decided what the hell. To my delight, they accepted my manuscript. It was the perfect tune- up the book needed. After working hand in hand with several editors, I believe was now the best it could be. It was running smoothly, didn’t miss fire, wasn’t jumpy, started and stopped when and when it should, and lead my readers to a satisfying ending. Not to be confused with a happy ending.

I submitted the sequel which was then titled In the Genes to my publishers, which they accepted. In the Genes was suffering from the same problems as it’s predecessor, in severe need of a tune-up. Again, working with Junction Publishing’s editors, we can now release the best version of the sequel now titled Deadly Friend. She has had a brilliant tune-up. Same book, same story, only now she’s the best she can be.

If you had read In the Genes, I suggest you give Deadly Friend a new look, just as she has. Not only did she get a tune-up, but she also received a beautiful new cover. That feeling one gets when they are all dressed up, ready to go somewhere special, and your mom gives you a new piece of jewelry or a new tie to top off your outfit. The new cover for Deadly Friend is fantastic. Thank you, Marcu Brown and Junction Publishing.

I’d like to thank everyone at Junction Publishing for the time and effort they took to make my stories the best they could be. I’d also like to thank my readers that have stuck with me.

If you haven’t read, give it a try. Junction Publishing and former readers think you will not be disappointed. Five-star reviews.

Deadly Friend will be released September 10, 2018.

part 1 and 1


















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👤░P░R░E░ ░O░R░D░E░R░👤
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By K.d. Bloodworth

FREE on Kindle Unlimited
Pre-order link –
Releasing 10th September 2018 via Junction Publishing

News from the Mountain

part 1 and 1

School has started in my neck of the woods, causing me to wonder what happened to summer?

An injured back, back surgery and recovery ate up most of my time these past few months. I’m grateful to say the surgery went well and the recovery is also coming right along.  I still have several more weeks before I am entirely released to do everything I could do to injure my back in the first place.

I’m happy to report during my downtime, Junction Publishing, my publisher and I worked hard to make Deadly Friend into a great read. I’m so excited Deadly Friend will be released on September 10th.

This work also got my creative juices flowing again, and I now have a work in progress, but not a thriller this time.  As this project comes together, I will release more information.

Another aspect of my life that was put on hold, while I was not allowed to drive or even ride in a car, was my photography. Many of you know from my Facebook page, how much I love my camera. I do have a separate site, if you are interested in seeing some of my favorite shots.  Seems mother nature doesn’t like to cooperate as since I got my wheels back, we are fogged in till almost noon, or it’s raining.  I hope for better weather so my camera and I can spend more time together.

I often wonder why I have lived in so many places during my life and over the last few months, I have come to the conclusion it was all leading up to my life here in the North Georgia Mountains. This place has allowed me to come to terms with my life, peace has filled my soul. Although I still have that wanderlust, as there is so much in this world I have not seen as of yet, it’s not burning a hole in my heart.  I’m at peace to sit right here, write, take a few photos, watch the birds, read, listen to the quiet and breathe in the fresh air.

I don’t know what I did in my life to deserve such a beautiful place, but I’ll take it and sit right here and enjoy every minute. I can only hope I have many of those minutes remaining.


Not Seeing Double

💫 °❈*✫.•°*°•.✫👤✫.•°*°•.✫*❈° 💫
👤░P░R░E░ ░O░R░D░E░R░👤
.•°*°•.✫👤 ░N░O░W░ 👤✫.•°*°•.
💫 °❈*✫.•°*°•.✫👤✫.•°*°•.✫*❈° 💫

By K.d. Bloodworth

FREE on Kindle Unlimited
Pre-order link –
Releasing 10th September 2018 via Junction Publishing

part 1 and 1.jpg

No, you are not seeing double!  You thought the story ended, with Dawn and John living happily ever after. Not so much! Like you, Dawn thought so too.

Following the horrific events in MRPERFECT.COM, Dawn thought she would never escape the demons that had haunted her every waking moment. But months of therapy finally freed her from the memories, allowing her and John to start their lives afresh with a new home in a new town. Slowly making new friends and gaining the confidence to take a part-time bar job, life was better than it had been for a long time.

Then, the past Dawn had tried so hard to forget caught up with her.

Awaking to her worst nightmare, beaten, bound and bloody, Dawn dared not move, fearing she would wake the monster in the room.

The man sleeping in the chair looked like her friend. Something was horribly wrong.


A House Divided


In my lifetime I would have never thought I would see Americans turning on each other as they are now. We have been a melting pot of different nationalities, occupations, and lifestyles for over 200 years. Just in my time here on this earth, I have witnessed national disasters, riots, national disasters, wars, threats of war, and many elections.  Never have I seen such a division in our country, that didn’t start with the last election but started during the last Administration.

I can see the hate mail I’m going to receive for that last statement but it is how I see it. Say or believe what you will but I have lived in different States, North, South, East and West in this country. I have lived in big cities and small villages. Not since the race riots in the fifties and sixties have I seen such a division of between Blacks and Whites that crashed and burned during the Presidency of Barack Obama. More Black people have held powerful positions in our Government over the last twenty some years than in any time of our history and yet we keep hearing how Whitey is beating the Black man down. Yet, look it up yourself from the Department of Justice and you will see the number one killer of young black men are young black men.

I would have never thought Americans wanting to take care of American and Americans first, over illegal aliens and other countries would be looked down upon.  Yet here we are with homeless Veterans and American children, going hungry while we spend billions of dollars people that came here illegally and send foreign aid to countries that would burn our flag and sit on us.

Now I’m watching fellow Americans hating our President so much they would rather see America fail than to see him successful. That train of thought befuddles my brain. Everything President Trump does, is wrong in their eyes, regardless of anything good that is happening. During his time in office, housing is thriving, there are more blacks working and owning their own homes than in the last twenty years, unemployment is down at an all-time record, and the stock market is at an all-time high. I would bet that any of the haters having 401Ks aren’t complaining about their accounts going up.  All they do is come up with reasons why none of these things have anything to do with President Trump. It’s all about hating Donald Trump, no matter what. If the reason to hate him isn’t working today, they find something new tomorrow.  It saddens me that my fellow Americans have so much hate in their hearts.

All of this hate has now flowed over into our lives through social media. Over the last two years, because I choose to stand with the President and not trash him and every single decision he makes or over every word he speaks or types, I have been sent hate mail, told I’m ignorant trailer trash redneck hillbilly, sent wishes of my death, and now have had longtime friends tell me if I stand with the President they don’t want to be my friend any longer.

I don’t agree with everything our President does, but I didn’t agree with everything any of the Presidents since I was old enough to understand how the world works.  I never told anyone I didn’t want to be their friend because they stood behind their beliefs or they voted for someone other than I did.

We as a country are sliding down a very slippery slope with all this hate and discontent. A slippery slope of not impeachment but a slippery slope of unrest and civil war. The downfall of American isn’t coming from Iran, Iraq, Syra or Russia, but from within.

Slow down haters, think of what you are losing with all the hate in your heart. It’s not just what you believe to be Trump and his followers, but all that America has stood for over the last two hundred years. Are we perfect, not by a long shot?  Our differences once brought us to together but now the hate you have in your hears is tearing us apart.

Stop jumping to conclusions because of your hate. Case in point, the Supreme Court nominee. Haters started hating that person before he or she was even named. You have Roe vs. Wade overturned before a judge is put in office. Now you can see the future?

Personally, I have better things to do with my life than to hate all the time. I’m not a big religious person, something I think is very personal and private. I do believe in trying to live by the teachings in the bible. Take it or leave it, there are many good things to live by;

Proverbs 10:12

Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses.

President Lincoln said: “”A house divided against itself cannot stand.” I believe this government cannot endure, permanently half slave and half free. I do not expect the Union to be dissolved—I do not expect the house to fall—but I do expect it will cease to bedivided. It will become all one thing, or all the other.”

I believe this country cannot endure, permanently radical left and radical right. We must stop the hate and come to the middle.

I’m standing in the middle, I hope you will join me.



Picture Perfect Day

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Sitting at my desk this morning I thought of how yesterday was a picture perfect day. Then I started wondering, what is that? Would I have thought yesterday was a perfect day last month, last year, or better yet, twenty or thirty years ago? Just what does that saying mean to any of us.

Years ago a perfect day would have been spending the day with friends at the lake, enjoying the water, some cold beer, and cooking out.  Other times it would have been a day spent on a river or creek in a canoe or kayak, blasting our way through whitewater rapids.

Other times, such a day would have been spent on my Harley Davidson, getting some wind therapy.

Many times a perfect day would have been a road trip to where ever we ended up in parts unknown, in whatever State I happened to be living. That is also still a picture perfect day for me.

I’ve learned that a perfect day doesn’t always consist of sunshine and light breezes. It doesn’t always start with beautiful sunrises and end with breathtaking sunsets.

A picture perfect day is one that sets your mind at ease. Where your troubles are forgotten and your spirits are lifted. A perfect day will always be remembered. A memory you can call upon that will bring you peace when needed. A day that will always bring a smile to your face.

A picture perfect day will more than likely not be a day of any huge event in your life, but rather a day of fun, love, and laughter. It’s a day that imprints a picture in your memories.

Yes, yesterday was a picture perfect day for me. I spent the afternoon sitting on my front porch enjoying a lovely summer day here in the mountains of northern Georgia. It was the kind of summer day one wishes every day would be like in the South. (Warm but no humidity).  The birds were singing, my dogs at my feet, my husband in the other rocker next to mine, as we spent the afternoon reading and chatting about nothing. The woes of the world far from our minds.  Our few little problems forgotten. We were wrapped in a layer of thankfulness for all the things we enjoy in life and all the wonderful people in our lives.

Many would think yesterday was about as boring as life could get. Years ago I probably would have been one of those people.  But today, yesterday was a picture perfect day.

Waking up this morning is a great start for another great day.


24 and Counting

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For several weeks, the couple on the left kept trying to drive up to Chattanooga, Tennesse from Cullman, Alabama to tie the knot.  Every time we made plans, something would happen, and the trip was canceled.  I was beginning to think someone was trying to tell us something.  I won’t lie, many times during our years together I often wondered if we had done the right thing.

On a rainy day, twenty-four years ago, we finally made our way to Chattanooga. We wouldn’t even get to spend the night, as Kevin was on call that weekend. But it was then or wait the rest of the summer, so off we went in the pouring down rain.

I kept saying that maybe it would clear up by the time we found the courthouse, only to have the clouds hanging lower to the ground and raining harder.

We had filled out the paperwork, paid for our license, found the volunteer preacher, and asked for his services. He said it had stopped raining, would we like to get married outside under one of the enormous trees.  We agreed, making our way out to the little courtyard.

As if someone was sending us a sign from above when we reached the spot designated for ceremonies, the clouds opened up, blue sky appeared, and the sun lit up the skies and our faces.  Short and sweet, Kevin in a T-shirt and blue jeans and me in a T-shirt and shorts.  Afterward, we paid the preacher, signed and received our marriage certificate and was on our way: Mr. and Mrs. Bloodworth.

We opened the doors of the courthouse to leave and stepped out into a downpour. It rained all the way back to Cullman.  We hadn’t been home more than ten minutes, and of course, Kevin’s phone rang, and he had to leave to take care of a problem. Such is the way days are when your husband is working as undercover police.

Our married life has turned out just like that day. Some rain, some thunderstorms, but sunshine during all the critical times.  Have we broken each other’s hearts, of course?  Have there been tears? Sure. Have we wanted to call it quits? Yep.  Have we always liked each other, no? But we have always loved each other.

Love forgives all. Do we have a perfect marriage? Why hell no, we are not perfect people.  Just last night I was told I was being bossy.  My reply was, I can’t do the cooking right now which that means I have to supervise.  Knowing good and well, Kevin is an accomplished cook, I took my leave, sat down and waited for my food.  We are again in the ‘through sickness and in health’ part of marriage, as I just had surgery.

Some days it seems as if we have been together forever, but then I sit and wonder how did twenty-four years pass so quickly.  Would I do it all over again, you bet-cha?  I would like to say, here’s to another 24, but I know that may not happen.  I will say, I love this man more today than I did yesterday.  We will, as with all things, enjoy each day and be thankful for each day and each other.



A Bump in Time or Because of Time


I pride myself in being a pretty hard cookie. I’ve survived car accidents, motorcycle accidents, the 1960’s and 70’s, a stroke, I almost bled to death once, I’ve had a ruptured disc surgery, survived cancer and yet here I go again, with another ruptured disc.

Doctor asked me what the problem was when he put the MRI image on the screen.  I’m thinking, hell, you’re the doctor, you can’t see the problem? I point out the huge bulge of disc material that is pushing on my spinal cord. “Well, Doc, I don’t have an MD after my name but right off that bat, (pointing to the bulge), that stuff there isn’t supposed to be there.”

“You’re right,” he announces.

I’m not going to go into great detail, but my first back surgery in 2000, absolutely sucked. I was in no way looking forward to another back surgery, but I put on my big girl panties and brave face. I was in enough pain and losing control of my right foot and leg to overcome my fear of another surgery.

“No worries, I’ll fix you,” said the doctor.

Day 1, post-op

Since my surgery was afternoon and I would be getting home very late, I opted to spend the night in the hospital.  A night full of poking and prodding by nurses but Morphine came to my rescue. Ah, Morphine, my friend. But Morphine lies to you. He makes you think all is well until he starts to slip away.  By the time I’m ready for discharge and a two-hour ride home, the lying bastard has left me completely.  The kind nurse gives me some Percocet to relieve the pain.  Apparently, part of Morphine had stayed behind and had a fight in my stomach with Mr. Percocet. Mr. Percocet won by throwing Mr. Morphine completely off the premises.  Great, now I have an empty stomach while my husband drives me on a north Georgia mountain road that causes me motion sickness on a good day. I’m a lovely pine green color by the time we made it home.

“Are you hungry?” My caring husband askes? I wonder if he’s cruel or color blind?

My stomach finally stops doing backflips, and I manage to get some dry toast down with some tea. God help me, why did I think it was a good idea to take some more Percocet before I went to bed?

I’m in pain but am terribly happy that the pain isn’t as intense as it was after my first surgery. I still can not find a comfortable position in bed, so I retreat to my recliner. Finally comfortable and the Percocet kicks in. I’m not sick this time but wired from head to toe. I’m tighter than a violin bowstring. I feel like someone shot me full of meth, according to what I’ve read. When I do doze off, I wake up from the pain in my clenching jaws.  All of this and having to go pee every hour isn’t helping me get the rest I need. But I’m tough, yes?

Day 2 Post-op

Yep, I’m tough all right. I spend most of the day recovering from my fitful night fight with my nerves and Mr. Percocet. Mr. Percocet is not my friend. I have banned him from all future visits.

I try to do the physical therapy I was assigned and keep up my small walked around the house. By dinner time I’m shattered. I just want to go to bed but know if I give in so early, I will be awake by 3 am. That will not go well with my nurse. I manage to stay awake until almost 11 pm. I thankfully find Mr. Tylenol PM, and he escorts me through a lovely, peaceful nights sleep.

Day 3 Post-op

I’m feeling so much better. I find it amazing how well one feels with a good nights sleep behind them. The half-mile long incision along my spine now feels like an inch or less. The swelling that felt the size of a watermelon only yesterday is hardly there at all. I’m feeling like a new person. I’m doing my physical therapy, taking my walks, sitting up in the straight chairs and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

WTF was I thinking? By 9 pm, the little voice in my head is saying, “You dumbass! You had to overdo it, didn’t you? You couldn’t just take your time and allow your body to heal at its own pace, could you? For crying out loud, when will you ever learn?”  The voice shut up when Mr. Tylenol PM made his appearance.

Day 4 Post-op

Well, well, well….the I’m not 30 anymore person showed up this morning, allowing the real patient to take over. Although feeling better today, I am confident I learned my lessons. I’m doing my PT, going over the lists of things I can do according to the doctor, not extending the distances or time of doing things, and realizing this healing stuff at my age takes a tad bit longer. Who knew?

With the facts planted deep into my hard head, I will continue on my way to a healthier, improved self. I would tell you how growing old sux, but then growing old is actually relatively enjoyable.

Life is a Precious Thing



Precious adjective: of great value, not to be wasted or treated carelessly.

Noun: used as a term of address to a beloved person, “Don’t be frightened, my precious”

What will it take before you realize your life is precious? Will it be when you are stricken with a deadly disease? When a loved one dies? When you live beyond the years you once thought was when you might die, did you start thinking life was precious?


When I was younger I was so wrapped up in just surviving day to day, making ends meet, and eeking out a living for my family, I never gave thought as to how precious each day is.


We live in a time where we get caught up in the 24/7 news feeds with the talking heads. We spend our time on social media, texting, and messaging not realizing our lives are slipping away.


Each minute we spend looking back is wasted when we should be looking forward. Each hour we hate is an hour we could have been loving. Each day we let go by without telling someone we love them is a day we will never get back.


Soon the minutes, hours and days, add up to weeks, months and years. Did you treat those years with love and kindness? Did you make sure you told someone you love them at every chance? Did you make those phone calls? Did you hold someone’s hand? Did you hold a door open for a stranger?


Our lives are precious, a gift. Be precious to everyone you know and meet. We all can be of great value without being rich and famous. We can make someone’s day by just being nice.


With a world full of hate, be the person people will say of you,  “He or she is precious.”

What do you Believe?


Until people admit the problems we face as a nation and world stems from people and not things, we will never solve anything.  It is beyond my comprehension the reasoning from some people that believe objects are the cause of hate and discontent in our society.

I was told not long ago that my generation is old and our ways are outdated. To that I respond, there were no school shootings by my generation. In fact, some students carried guns in their cars or trucks so they could go hunting after school. We played with toy guns, owned BB guns and learned how to shoot at early ages, depending on where one lived.  There were guns in our homes, some standing behind a door somewhere in the house, or in my father’s nightstand. Same was true for many of my friend’s home.

What does it say for our society that for two generations now, people will take a human life for no reason at all other than revenge over words, or to become famous? Two generations of people that believe society owes them free things. High paying jobs fresh out of school. Two or more generations that will borrow money then refuse to pay the loan back because it’s too much? Two or more generations of mediocre behavior accepted and receiving trophies.

In my generation, not everyone made the team because everyone wasn’t good enough. You were encouraged to practice harder or find something else to try to be better in doing.  Only winners got trophies. Because in the real world of adulthood, not everyone is a winner. It taught us how to handle disappointment. It taught us how to strive to do better. It taught us that although we might not be perfect if we worked hard at something, we would get better.

Nowadays, when someone is disappointed they strike out with any means possible, including grabbing one of their parent’s guns and killing those that had hurt them in some way.

Whether one wishes to admit it or not, society is on the brink of destruction because of human behavior not because we have access to things.  With this said, I’m going to steal the lyrics to a song popular not so long ago that also is fitting for today.

“Eve Of Destruction”

The eastern world it is exploding
Violence flarin’, bullets loadin’
You’re old enough to kill but not for votin’
You don’t believe in war but whats that gun you’re totin’?
And even the Jordan River has bodies floatin’

But you tell me
Over and over and over again my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction

Don’t you understand what I’m tryin’ to say
Can’t you feel the fears I’m feelin’ today?
If the button is pushed, there’s no runnin’ away
There’ll be no one to save with the world in a grave
Take a look around you boy, it’s bound to scare you boy

And you tell me
Over and over and over again my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction

Yeah my blood’s so mad feels like coagulating
I’m sitting here just contemplatin’
I can’t twist the truth it knows no regulation
Handful of senators don’t pass legislation
And marches alone can’t bring integration
When human respect is disintegratin’
This whole crazy world is just too frustratin’

And you tell me
Over and over and over again my friend
Ah, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction

Think of all the hate there is in Red China
Then take a look around to Selma, Alabama
You may leave here for four days in space
But when you return it’s the same old place
The pounding of the drums, the pride and disgrace
You can bury your dead but don’t leave a trace
Hate your next door neighbor but don’t forget to say grace

And tell me
Over and over and over and over again my friend
You don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction
Mmm, no, no, you don’t believe
We’re on the eve of destruction

To My Younger Self!


As the song said, “Slow down, you move to fast, got to make the morning last!”

From the time I can remember, I was always in a hurry.  Hurry up and start shaving my legs, hurry up and wear makeup, in a hurry to discover boys, hurrying to date, hurrying to be a grown up, hurry up to discover sex, hurrying to do all the adult things that laws said you had to be of a certain age. Hurrying my life away.

Then when I because certain ages, I was still in a hurry.  Mornings turned into high speed chases against the clock to get to work on time, to spend many years in jobs I didn’t like just to get by.  Working several jobs at a time to make ends meet.  Speeding through the weekday to cram every little thing I could possibly think of to have a little fun, if I wasn’t working the second or third job.

Maybe life would have been a little easier if I had just slowed down and continued my education through an university and not through the school of hard knocks.  Or not, I didn’t do all that badly, it just took me longer than most.  Even more educated people than I have tougher lives in their old age. Life never seems to go according to plan.

Through in changing jobs, moving from state to state, marriages, children, divorces, parents that need help, there was always something changing the game plan.  I see now that all of that didn’t really matter if I had only realized that I too could one day live to be this age.  I could have slowed down and enjoyed life more.  All those things that I hurried to do in my youth, which by the way seemed to last until I was almost sixty, I could have done at a much slower pace.

Would have made so many mistakes, who’s to say?  We go forward not backwards.  Now, it does seem that when the clock is ticking away towards the golden age of seventy, I want to hurry again. My clock my well indeed be running out and there is still so much more I want to do in this life. My clock seems to be moving faster while my body and brain seems to move a bit slower everyday.

To my younger self, I would say, “Slow down, enjoy every minute for what it is, not what you wish it to be. ”


A Good Beach Read


The last day of April has me thinking of spending time outdoors on warm summer days. When the days are longer and I have pleasure reading time. When I am not studying some article for work or pounding new information into my head for one reason or another. When the words I’m taking in slide across my minds eyes allowing me to enter a different world other than the one I’m living.

Books that allow my imagination to run wild. Where I can be the heroine or the creepy bad guy.

In today’s social media network world, we do everything on the internet. From keeping up with social events, buying goods, reading books, watching television to finding a mate. I have known several people that have found their true soul mate online.  Still, it had me wondering, what if? What if a sociopath used dating websites to lure his victims into his web of deceit?

So came the idea for  A thriller that will take you into the demented mind of a serial killer and a woman’s fight for survival. Enjoy your summer.


Hope in Humanity

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For the past few weeks, I have felt as if there was a dark cloud hovering over me. It didn’t seem to matter how badly I wanted the cloud to move away and allow the sunshine to come back into my life, the grey skies were with me.

My husband took me off to the big city for a Pen show. I can see the look on your face as I type. I can hear your question, “Why in the hell would anyone want to show pens?”  I could go deep into that subject, however, this is not why I am writing today.

I’m writing today to express how a few short days spent with some amazing people can reset your views on life in general.  Complete strangers of all ages, backgrounds, and occupations walked into my life this weekend. The only thing we all had in common was the love for fountain pens and writing, yet we spent hours talking about any and every subject you can imagine.

Unlike families, it appears complete strangers can broach subjects considered taboo otherwise. No one was offended, no one got mad, no one yelled and as far as I can tell, not a single person got their feelings hurt.  We laughed together over our differences.

This weekend renewed my hope for humanity. I was reminded who people once interacted with each other and communicated. Yes, we had our cell phones out as we shared photos of our lives with each other. Not a single person sat with their faces stuck to their phone screens as we talked. We did Google a few things when none of us could remember a certain name or place. It was as if we had been beamed back to a time when humans communicated with other humans face to face. It was absolutely amazing.

And even though we drove through pouring rain all the way home, I felt like the sun had come out and was shining on me. Even today as the snow was falling on the Georgia mountain where we live, I still feel the warmth from some great people I met this weekend.

Live is good!



Smart Phones Making Us Dumb


The world at our fingertips has ruined our lives, our relationships, our communication skills, and our ability to listen.

I took a trip by plane two weeks ago and was amazed as too how many people I saw without their faces stuffed into some sort of electronic device, mostly smart phones.  Not watching where they were walking, not listening to anyone talking to them, not paying attentions to important announcements, not even watching what they were eating or drinking.

The one great invention of my lifetime is destroying so many things I have loved in my life.  How sad it seems to me that dinners are eaten with faces staring at the smart phone screen waiting for the next text or the next Google answer. Never mind what people sitting at the same table are saying.

It seems to me that many people don’t understand social communications unless it’s in the form of a text. I thought it was just teens going through a spell, but I was so wrong. It seems to be everyone is infected. I’m not sure what to call this infection, other than the downfall of society.

I saw a cartoon not long ago of a family visiting grandma, and everyone was sitting around with their face glued to the smart phone screen and grandma just sitting there. She might as well have been alone. “Gee thanks for the visit,” I thought.

I am too guilty of grabbing my phone and showing someone a photo, as Googling something none of us older gals can remember, but then the phone is put away, or at least set down and face down.  I did check my emails and sent a text or two when I was setting in the airport. However, I did not allow this to get into my people watching time. Is it only the older generations that watched people when in public places?

If I could do one thing that I think might save our society, I would do away with smart phones and search engines.  Like the weakest of the of buffalo herd, soon many humans would die from the lack of instant information, leaving the world a stronger and smarter place. Why they might even learn how to read and write cursive again, actually allowing them to read original documents.

Frozen dinner, Anyone?



I’m not sure where I came up with the idea that retirement would give me all the time in the world to do the things I wanted to do. I had visions of getting up whenever I pleased, (usually very early for this morning person), enjoying my coffee, catching up on the news of the day, then spending my day writing or painting, or working on my photography. Isn’t that how it appears in the movies or on TV? I should have known better.

Lately, I have been feeling so overwhelmed by all the things I need to get done, and the things I want to do, I end up not doing much at all. I tend to spend too much time in my comfy chair pondering what I should do next. Before I know it the dinner bell is ringing and I’ve got to think of something to prepare for dinner. No words were written, no photos were taken, no painted trim work in the kitchen finished, no laundry is done, no house cleaning is done, and I think I didn’t even make the bed up today. “Ah, tomorrow I will have a plan!”

I toss and turn most of the night, thinking about the plan for the next day. Ha, plans well made!  Always, something happens, and the well thought out plans are tossed aside and I end up doing something else. What is wrong with me, I ask? Am I the only one having this problem? God, I hope not.

“Snap out of it,” I scold myself. “Get with the program.”  But what is the program? Do I need deadlines? It seems setting goals isn’t working for me. Are goals and deadlines the same thing?

Maybe I have ADD? Can someone pushing 70 all of a sudden develop ADD? Or maybe I have the onset of Alzheimer’s? I do have to write everything down, or I forget. My friends say the same thing. Maybe it’s just a severe case of CRS (can’t remember shit.) Seems everyone I know my age suffers from the same symptoms. Did we all have the same idea about retirement? I meant to ask my friend the other day during our conversation, but I forgot.

Someone suggested making myself a work schedule:

Breakfast and photography: 6-8 am.

Social media, including emails and FB: 8-10 am.

Writing: 10-noon.

Lunch: noon to 1 pm.

Writing: 1 pm to 5 pm.

Dinner: 5 pm -7 pm

During any breaks, I must do laundry, tend to the dogs, (still training a puppy), pay attention to my husband, do the grocery shopping, pay bills, and clean house.

OMG! This doesn’t sound like retirement. This sounds like work. Maybe I’ll try this out every other day for a week and take the other days off.

Stay tuned; I’ll let you know how dirty my house gets and how the puppy training goes. Frozen dinner anyone?


We NOT They


I am so very weary of the people saying, “They caused this.” “They could have stopped this.” “They won’t fix this.” Who the hell is this ‘THEY’??

WE are in this neck deep, and all of us are to blame. WE as a nation have failed. WE have failed ourselves, our children, our businesses, our lives in general.

WE have raised several generations of ME first citizens. WE have raised children who have no regard for life, no empathy, and no moral compass.

Even if WE as parents tried to instill good qualities into our children, look at idols who replace us. WE elect the same dishonest, deplorable, representatives with the morals of alley cats to run our country over and over.  WE allow them to get away with actions that we would never do ourselves.

WE allow our children to idolize drug users, domestic violent, immoral, cheaters, liars, and greedy people because they can sing, act, or play a game well. Allowing this, how can we expect any more of the generations that are now coming into adulthood or are already of age?

WE have allowed our technology to ruin our social skills. The majority of society walks around with their faces glued to a phone screen, draining them of any social skills. The internet has given the cowards of the world a voice, good or bad. Giving small children a cell phone is like giving a baby a grenade and hoping they don’t figure out how to pull the pin. WE have allowed televisions and cell phones to become parents to our children.  WE are now several generations into this practice.

The question is, can WE undo all of this? Can WE as a nation stand together and fix what has gone wrong? No more new laws will fix these problems. Guns are not the problem, any more than cars, knives, baseball bats, or fists. The problem is Humans losing their humanity. Which means they have lost all their compassion, brotherly love, kindness, consideration for others, understanding of others, sympathy, tolerance, mercy, charity, goodness, and generosity.