Easy Breezy!

We all know that humans are absolutely the silliest things on the planet. The first thing most of us think when something is offered for free, we wonder what’s wrong with it. Proof is in a HGTV program where the host goes to a home improvement store like Lowe’s or Home Depot and offers some stranger to remodel their home or remake their outdoor areas for free. The people say no. I’m thinking if a man and a camera crew approaches me in a store, offering me a home makeover of some type for free, they will have a hard time keeping up with me, going to my car, yelling, “Come on, follow me!”

I have offered my book for free in person during some functions and have people look at me like I have an antenna growing out of my head. I want to scream, “It’s freaking free. If you don’t like it, you didn’t waste any of your money.”  They smile and walk away. Maybe they don’t read?

This weekend I decided to offer a free Kindle copy of my book, in hopes I can get some people to read my work and like what I have put out there. I’m very pleased that so many took advantage of the offer yesterday but I will admit I was hoping for more takers.

Over the years many of my friends have given me a book that they had just read. I never once asked what was wrong with the book. Never once have I heard, “This book really stinks, I think you should read it.” Why should it be any different when an author offers their book for free? Yet it is. People tend to surmise that if an author is giving their book away, they feel it’s not good enough to sell. Yes it’s good enough to sell, but I’m in the 600,000 plus authors that no one hardly has heard of and I’m trying to get my name known. Simple!

Just think of me as a friend that just read this book and I am giving it to you to read. How easy is that? Then after you read it, tell me if you liked it or not. Easy breezy.

Take Every Opportunity

My mother was an insecure mess, so I know where that gene came from, but that’s alright. My mom was also the strongest woman I have even known, she just didn’t know it.

My mother was born in 1918, in a small coal mining town in Arkansas. One of six children that lived.(To the best of my memory she had two brothers that died at birth or shortly afterwards.) Mom was next to the youngest and the last of the girls. Mom would laugh about her early life but I knew it still haunted her. Her father had left the family when she was about eight years old. Leaving my grandmother with all those mouths to feed. The oldest sister taught school while going to college to become a teacher. That was the families only income, which was probably about $10 a month. The two oldest boys left home early to work and support themselves. Still mom said there was many nights they all went to bed hungry.

When my mother was about seven years old her appendix ruptured. She spent several months in bed clinging to life as the poison worked its way out of her system. In 1944, her appendix almost ruptured again. After her surgery the doctor told her he was surprised she was still alive since she had scars indicating her appendix had ruptured years before.

My mom lived through the depression, WWII, Korea conflict, Vietnam, the assignation of the President and witness men on the moon. She was a stay at home mom, but I will say she worked harder than any woman I ever knew. Along with the regular house chores that kept our home clean and shiny, my mom gardened, canned and froze the food she grew, kept flower gardens to make our yard colorful, helped with the yard work, sewed our clothes, cooked and baked. She also was a great fisher and hunter, which helped keep meet in the freezer.

My mom hated driving, it made her nervous and she gave up driving when she was about seventy. When my father passed away, she didn’t want to leave the home they had shared for over forty years. She again stepped up to the occasion. She began taking the Senior Citizens bus everywhere. She did all her own shopping and getting herself to and from her doctor’s appointments. She was seventy-six when my father died and she found the strength to live by herself another four years. I finally had to put my foot down and demanded she move across the street from our home. When she because afraid to stay alone we sold our two places and bought a big house for all of us. Sadly, mom had cancer and died six months later.

Just before mom slipped away into a coma, she asked me if she had been a good mother. I told her she was the best mom anyone would ever dream of having. It was me that hadn’t been a good daughter when I was young. She asked me if we fought a lot when I was growing up. Forgive me mom, because I lied and said no more than any other mom and teenaged daughter. Fact was we fought like cats and dogs. Too much alike in so many ways and I wanted to be different. I look back now and wonder why.

If you still have your mom, don’t wait for Mother’s day to tell her you love her. One day she will be gone and the opportunity will be gone also.

Somewhere in the Stack!

I was feeling pretty darn good about my little book and my sales. Every month since MrPerfect.com went live last year I have received a small deposit in my bank account. Granted most months I didn’t make enough money to make a trip to Starbucks but to be honest, their coffees are over priced. That’s what I told myself so I would feel better.  After all, I’m a new, unknown, self-published author. I’m plugging right along, or so I thought.

Then this weekend I read an article which stated that over 600,000 thousand independent authors self-published books in 2014. The article didn’t say if that was just in the USA and Canada or world-wide. Even world-wide, that’s a lot of books out there. I was feeling even smaller. To make things worse I thought if the average book is 300 pages long, that would be 180,000,000 pages. That would also mean if my book was at the bottom of the pile, people would need to read 179,999,694 pages before they got to MrPerfect.com. Talk about feeling really small!  I couldn’t even begin to think of how many well-known author’s books would be stacked on top of the new 600,000 indie books.

I keep telling myself, it only takes that one certain person to like my writing enough to hook me up to an agent and publisher. Being somewhere in the stack, struggling to get my name out here, self-promoting seems to take up much of my time set aside to write.

I have to remind myself as I plug my work on Twitter and Facebook the reasons I started writing in the first place. I like telling stories. I’m not the best author in the world, but I’m the best one at my house! I resolved a long time ago that I’m a horrible editor. My eyes see what I thought I wrote. It takes days and sometimes weeks for me to catch the simplest mistakes. I truly understand why good editors make such good money. The other problem we self-publishing authors have, or at least I do, is funds. I don’t have hundreds or thousands of dollars saved up for a wonderful editor. It’s a catch-22. I need to sell more books so I can afford a good editor for my next book but that book is going slowly because I’m depressed that I can’t afford a really good editor. Being depress I find less creative juices flowing, so I spend my days promoting instead of writing. EEEEEEKKKKKK!

Surely, I’m not the only indie author that feels this way. There has to be another one out there among the 600K. Oh, not to worry, they predicted in 2015 here would be 800,000 self-published books on the market. In that case, I suppose I should shut this blog off and get to writing so I can get my next book into print before the end of the year. I’m not going to make my June goal but I am determined to keep on telling my stories, no matter where in the stack you find me.

No Regrets

It’s so easy to say, “No Regrets.”  Simple words but is it really possible to have lived this long and not have regrets?  It’s easier for me to think, “If I knew back when, what I know now, I would have done things a bit differently.” Is that having regrets?

I may feel regret for not saying I’m sorry to some people in my past when I was acting like an immature brat, but isn’t acting like a brat a part of growing up?

I find it hard to be sorry for the mistakes I have made when I was trying to do the right thing. I never tried to intentionally hurt anyone one. This got me to thinking about the lyrics to an old Waylon Jennings’ song, which might become my theme song.

” I’ve always been crazy and the trouble that it’s put me through
I’ve been busted for things that I did, and I didn’t do
I can’t say I’m proud of all of the things that I’ve done
But I can say I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone

I’ve always been different with one foot over the line
Winding up somewhere one step ahead or behind
It ain’t been so easy but I guess I shouldn’t complain
I’ve always been crazy but it’s kept me from going insane”

If I’m honest with myself, I can’t really decide what I would do differently if I could. Yes, lots mistakes but the good things far out weigh all the dumb, silly and even bad decisions made over the years. So yes, if you live long enough you can say, “Live Life with No Regrets,” because sooner or later the good out weighs the bad.

Sounds and Smells of Saturday

Still under the quit, the sounds of the early morning woke me. Before the sun showed its face over the mountains to the east, the birds started their songs. A dog started baring off to the south of our house as the sun broke the horizon. It wasn’t too long afterwards, I heard a neighbor start-up a lawn mower. A bit later the smell of freshly cut grass over powered the aroma of the spring flowers that had seeped into my windows. The sound and smells of Saturday morning took me back to my childhood.

To those years when I was too young to help with the outdoor chores. When the mowing and other yard chores were left to my father and brother. Back to the days when I couldn’t wait to get out of bed, tending to what women’s chore I was assigned, mostly the dusting. Then get myself outdoors to play in the warm Michigan sunshine. Days spent running barefooted through the fresh-cut grass, which gave the me freedom from stepping on a honey bee working on a Dandelion, as the yellow blossoms had all just been mowed down.

I knew there would be hell to pay from the grass stains on my clothes and body. I remember night-time baths with mom scrubbing my feet with a brush, trying to get the green off of me. Mowing day always meant wearing old play clothes so not to ruin any more items with fresh grass stains. Mom’s scrubbed the stains between their knuckles with borax because there wasn’t such things as pre-wash sprays.

These were the days of running through the yard water sprinklers to cool off. Hula hoops and roller skates that clamped onto our regular shoes. Jumping rope and playing in the old Navy hammock daddy had hung for us kids. On really hot days we would fill the hammock with cold water from the garden hose as a way to cool off. Summer evenings of hide n’ seek and catching lighting bugs in a jar. Nights of walking with dad through the grass trying to catch night crawlers (worms) for a Sunday fishing trip. Remembering his laugh when I would try to catch the too fast crawler and miss.

If I could go back and relive one day of my childhood, it would be one of those Saturdays. Not only to spend the day with my family but enjoy the sounds and smells through a child’s senses. How blessed I am to have those memories.

Find me or my work: http://www.facebook.com/pages/KD-Bloodworth/411342242325034 or https://twitter.com/kdbloodworth and http://amzn.com/B00OQJENJK

Ya Only Live Once

I have always talked about going on a hot air balloon ride and yesterday my dream came true. My lovely daughter and son in-law gave me the ride for my birthday. At sixty-five years and ten days I took this picture of the San Tan mountain which I look at every time I sit down and write. Only this shot was taken a about 800 feet. In fact, we ended up taking off about a half mile from my house.

Driving around this valley or even flying over in a jet liner, you know just how big and populated the valley is really. But, floating above the valley is a totally different experience. This place has a lot of water flowing through it considering it’s desert. Green fields and green trees in all directions. It was a bit hazy yesterday morning but the true beauty of the valley was still showing off it’s grandeur.

If you have never given a thought of floating above the ground in a balloon gondola, you might change your mind. I have flown in a bi-plane, helicopter, small single engine planes and everything from a small four engine prop plane to a Boeing 747. This flight in the balloon was the most peaceful, serene, enjoyable time I have ever spent in the air. After reaching about 500 feet above the ground I felt no real sensation of moving up or down. Only a feeling of floating calmly above the ground, like I could fly.

I thought I would have that adrenaline rush I have felt after doing something exciting but this was a total different experience. I now see why my friend who gets sick on airplanes even enjoyed her balloon flight.  After a smooth, one tiny bounce landing we were on the ground and I found myself only wanting more.  I now understand how a bird must feel when they are gliding above the ground. I couldn’t stop thinking about the flight all last evening. I even dreamed about another balloon ride last night.

I suppose you can say I am working on my bucket list. I might be, but I think I have been working on that list since I was sixteen and went on my first plane ride. Who knows, I just might do that sky diving yet. Ya only live once.

Humans Are Dumb!

Have you ever wondered why UFO sightings have diminished over the past forty or so years? Simply put, there is no intelligent life on this planet! If I was intelligent enough to travel through space in a vehicle which makes no noise at the speed of light, I would take one look at the inhabitants of this blue planet and get the hell away. I would have stopped visiting after the first couple of sleep overs.

I can hear their leader telling them everyone is barred from visiting here. Don’t drink the water as it seems to make the whole world population stupid!  Take no chances, stupidity is rampant.

After thousands of years and many great achievements the human race is still in caveman mode. Humans still fight over the same basic things they have been fighting about since the beginning: power, money, land, resources, love, religion, and don’t forget religion. Why would anyone with any kind of intelligence want to visit this place other than to see the sights ?

You may think I’m a non believer but I am. Over the years I have seen unexplainable things in the sky. However, being a believer and living sixty-five years, has made me realize we are too dumb to communicate with each other much less with intelligent being from another world. Our little human pea brains just couldn’t deal with it.

I know one thing for sure, if an Alien spaceship shows up and a being asks me to go with them, I’m out of here. Oh, but then there’s the question to ponder. What if their visits were scouting missions looking for a place to live because their civilization was crumbling away?  Well, either they solved their problems after looking at earth and stopped visiting or they are still out there looking for intelligent life, having given up on us.

Crawling out of the Abyss

I’m up early because I’m one of those damn morning people with plenty of plans for the day.

Fire up computer on the way to let the dogs out. Turn on coffee pot. Let dogs in. Did I finish drying the clothes last night? Make myself a cup of coffee. Give dogs their morning treat. Walk into my little office. Oh, go check on dryer. Nope, clothes are still wet, I never turned the dryer on.  Turn dryer on.  Back in the office, start checking emails. Left coffee on kitchen counter. Retrieve coffee. Check Facebook. No, back to emails. Coffee is chilling, back to kitchen to nuke coffee. Dogs want back out, so let them out. Back to computer, answer emails, check Twitter. Need another cup off coffee. Dryer pings. Get clothes out of the dryer and hung on hangers. Throw another load of clothes in the washer that I didn’t get done yesterday.  Back to office. Dogs want their breakfast. Fix their food. Back to office, sit down, pull up WordPress. Dammit, no coffee. Back to kitchen to fix another cup of coffee. Dogs want outside again. Make coffee and let dogs back in. Back to computer. New emails. New Tweets. Answer those and write blog for the day. Before I can finish that it’s time to go check on mom and see if she needs anything today. Finish coffee with her and make it back home in time to answer more emails, tweets and FB. Dammit, it’s almost eleven and I haven’t eaten anything thing. My stomach thinks someone cut my throat. Fix some brunch and another cup of coffee. Watch the news while eating my sandwich which sets off a string of thought for another blog. Back in my office, at the desk, opening WordPress again. Washer pings. Write another blog post, several more tweets and a couple of FB posts and OMG, more emails to answer.

And before I realize, it’s time to start making dinner and the washer is still full of wet clothes. Another day of not writing a single word for my next book. I have come to the conclusion that other authors have someone to take care of the everyday things in life or they just shut the door and leave it all there for another time. Getting caught in the Facebook and Twitter abyss in the mornings is sure doom for this independent author. My goal this month after my visitors leave it to limit my abyss time and devote most of the day on finishing the next book.  I can do this!

Keep On Paddling!

This photo reflects just how I feel today. I’m swimming in a large pool of aspiring independent authors and no one can see me. Or maybe that’s been my whole life and I didn’t see it until I started writing. But, here I am! The gold one with the black eyes!

Since I have never been sixty-five before, I’m just assuming many people my age are wondering what they really did with their lives? It all went by so quickly. I can say I have a great daughter and two wonderful step-daughters. An accomplishment many women do not achieve. After achieving that everything else in life is pretty much icing.

Will it really matter if I never save the world? What would I be saving it from and how would I save it? I think I gave up on changing the world when I was about twenty. Too much to change. Then I went on to live another forty-five years to add to my stress. I may not have changed the world, but I changed my view of the world.

I learned you can’t make people love you or even like you. I stopped worrying about that a very long time ago. I didn’t say it doesn’t hurt my feelings when I find out someone doesn’t like me. I’m saying I just don’t hang on to that hurt. I’m a pretty awesome being and if you don’t like me, then it’s your loss. You missed out on a relationship with someone who can make you laugh in the darkest hours, or at least bring a smile to your face.

I learned no matter how crowded the pool is, keep swimming! It doesn’t matter if you make it to the front to lead. What matters is that you don’t sink to the bottom. I have been at the bottom of the pool a few times and it wasn’t fun. Swimming back to the surface wasn’t much fun either but once I got my head above water, life was good. Just being in the pool is a wonderful thing.

I keep on swimming everyday. I may not achieve much forward movement on certain days but my head is above water. I may not see upstream too far but I’m not at the bottom looking to the surface. And who knows, one day I might make my way out of the crowded large pool into a serene pool.

Until then, paddle, paddle, paddle.

Forever Valentine

Ladies, if you have to wait for this one day of the year, when a man is supposed to shower you with hugs, kisses and gifts, then something is wrong. When he truly loves you, he lets you know every day that you wake up just how much he loves you. It doesn’t take gifts to speak the love he has for you. Gifts are the icing, not the necessity.

It’s that kiss planted on the back of your neck when you’re standing at the kitchen counter preparing something. It’s that softly spoken “I love you,” when you first wake up or just before you fall asleep. That special hand squeeze for no apparent reason when riding in the car, or how he holds your hand in the grocery store. It’s how he gently kisses you for no reason at all, even in public.

It’s how you understand each other on some days and other days you wonder who in the hell is this person you married. It’s how he makes you laugh or how he understands you are crying for no reason at all. It’s how he listens and how he doesn’t hear a word you are saying. It’s how he remembered to take out the garbage or to clean his whiskers out of the sink. It’s how he doesn’t get made when you use his razor to shave your legs. It’s how he still looks at you the way he did all those years and pounds ago.

It was after working all night, he eased into bed with me this morning, told me he loved me and asked if I would be his forever Valentine. All the flowers or candy in the world can’t replace all of these things.

If you are lucky enough to be married to your best friend like me, then you are a forever Valentine too.

Happy Valentine’s Day

  Happy Valentine’s Day! To celebrate, MrPerfect.com (http://amzn.com/B00OQJENJK)  is on sale for the next three days. After all, isn’t a little romance better when you can save some money?

If you have been wondering about MrPerfect.com, now is the time to take the plunge. Dive in to a page turning, suspenseful, romance with a twist. Not your everyday story of love and romance. Not your regular tale of survival.

When you are thinking about your true love, your Valentine, do you know for certain they would track you down to save you from  evil? Would you have the strength to fight the evil hunting you? Would you have the will to live?

Read the reviews. You can decide for yourself for $.99. Price goes up soon, so get your copy now.

Lordy, We Need Help!

Yesterday everything my husband or I touched broke or turned to crap. It was just one of those days when Murphy had decided to move in with us. Today was a new day and started off just great. I was early for my doctor’s appointment. Just a routine visit. All was good. Made it to Lowe’s to pick up some items and found everything within minutes and was out the door and on my way to the grocery store.

The grocery store wasn’t busy and shopping was a stress free trip. I even had some fun conversations at the deli counter. Being in such a great mood I decided I would go across the street to the new Dunkin Donuts and pick up some treats for my donut loving husband.

When I walked into the place I realized how very long it had been since I have even been in a donut shop. No such thing in Montana where we lived for the past ten years. Having a donut shop a mile from the house and right across the street from the grocery store we shop at might prove to be a bad thing.

After my trip today, I think spending a lot of time there will not be a problem. My mind was so boggled by the time I left I’m afraid to go back. I’m afraid the stupid might rub off on me.

What in the hell are our kids learning these days? Ok, I will give the young man kudos to his manners. He was very nice and willing to help me with my decision on what to buy. Anything other than a glazed treat was a bit over whelming. Too many choices. Then he asked me if I wanted any Munchkins. What? He pointed to the donut holes. When did donut holes become Munchkins? I’m starting to feel really behind the times. My husband informed me that they have always been Munchkins at Dunkin. Show you how often I visit a donut shop.

I get some holes, I mean Munchkins and he rings me up. He tells me I owe him $9.47. I almost fall over. Now I know I’m older than dirt. I think the last time I bought a dozen donuts they were under three dollars. I give the young man a twenty. Then I say, I have the forty-three cents. He’s totally confused.  I explain I was giving him the change so he didn’t need to give me any coin. He’s looking at me, the register, the money in his hands and back at me like one of us is crazy. Oh, he says. No, it’s $10.53. To make things even worse I tell him I have the fifty-three cents.

OMG, he so confused he asks me if I want my twenty-dollar bill back. Calmly I explain, I’m giving you the fifty-three cents, all you need to do is give me ten dollars in change. He gives me two fives, shoves everything into his cash drawer and looks at me like I have just robbed him.

I took my three dollars worth of donuts that cost me over ten dollars and left. Dumbfounded that a young man, probably nineteen or twenty years old has no idea how to count change back to a customer. How do these people make it in this world? They have no clue if anyone is cheating them or not. If a machine doesn’t tell them what to do they don’t have any idea what should be done.

Again I’m thankful that I’m at the end of my so I won’t be around when these young people take over the world. Hopefully by then we won’t be using money to confuse people.

Too Tired To Be Creative

I just had to prove this again for the past few days. You know that little thing in your head that tells you not to do something because of you age or your physical abilities? Cheese and Rice I need one of those! My brain just flat refuses to believe that I am weeks away from being 65! Guess it thought that Medicare card that came in the mail a few weeks ago was a mistake. Thank god I have Medicare now so I can go to the doctor.

Who’s brilliant idea was it to paint in the den? You know, the room with the vaulted ceilings. Seems to me when we moved into this house I was the one  tall the ceilings were and any painting would be hired out. Oh hell no. I got all young feeling and said to myself, I can do that! Yep, I was right, I did it. Walls look great. However, I’m getting in and out of the car like a 95-year-old with a bad hip.

Sure I can help carry the sofa and love seat into the other room. No problem! Lord help me if I ever decide to move furniture again, please send a lightening bolt across the sky to remind me I shouldn’t attempt such a thing. What was I thinking?

On top of all this painting and spring time projects, I have been five days trying to find time to get the laundry done and go to the grocery store. Tomorrow I will try again. Then I read where authors stay up for days writing. I can’t stay awake long enough to watch the late news that happens to come on at ten pm here. I do my best to write when I first get up in the mornings when my mind is fresh and the words are flowing freely. By this time of the night I can hardly think clear enough to check the things off my to do list much less be creative.

I really must start paying attention to my limits and learn to say no to myself.

Knowing Is One Thing

No truer statement has ever been made that should have come from my lips! I don’t  like to think it’s because somewhere along the line, when I wasn’t paying attention, I got old. Or older. I think that 65 isn’t all that old, then my limits smack me in the face. So I smack them right back and attempt to do the things I was doing just a short time ago. That laughter in the background are my limits rolling around on the floor, laughing their asses off.

Seems that I can only pay attention to my limits after the fact. The next day when I can barely roll out of bed because every muscle in my body is screaming at me, “Dumb ass, what were you thinking?”  The day after I painted several rooms, including the ceilings and even my hair hurts. I spent several hours yesterday afternoon working in the yard and now I can’t turn my head in any direction more than thirty degrees. I know better than that, or I would think I so.

My life is like traffic laws. Posted speed limits are just suggestions, correct? My limits are suggestions from my body telling my brain I really shouldn’t be doing something. Holy Crap, my brain is pig-headed.

Being honest with myself, this is not an old age problem. I have lived my whole life not paying attention to my limits. This is how I learned to so do many really cool things. Oh, this is also how I ended up, scraped, bruised, broken and thanking god for allowing me to live. I never promised god that I would never do this or that again if he allowed me to live because I knew I would probably not keep that promise. I did promise I would do things better the next time.

Stretching the limits is what makes life exciting and fun. Breaking the limits makes it even better. Living through it all, well that’s the icing on the cake, making everything sweet.

Geritol and Castor Oil

Let’s just say that I was raised to think, if you wasn’t suffering from a sucking chest wound, you didn’t go to the doctor. Fever below 103* was no cause for real concern. 104* maybe a call to the doctor’s office. On your death-bed? Finally, a trip to the family doctor. This is my excuse for not running to the doctor every time something just didn’t feel right. After all, everyone is aging and things are wearing out.

Doctor asked me one time, when did my daughter break her foot. Huh? We looked at each other and tried to remember when that might have happened and we couldn’t think of anything. Talk about a guilt trip. Cheese and Rice, my kid had a broken foot and I didn’t take her to the doctor. She was probably injured playing and was told to walk it off. After all, her foot was still attached.

This would explain why after almost a month of some silly symptoms, that I would consider not normal but not life threatening had been put on the back burner. I finally made an appointment with my doctor. I love my doctor. He’s probably the happiest, friendly, thorough doctor I have ever known, other than my dearly departed father in-law. He spoiled me when it comes to doctors. My new doctor comes in second place.

He walks in the examining room yesterday with a big smile, shakes my hand and asks me how I’m doing. Before I can answer he says in his infectious laugh, “Well, you’re here to see a doctor, so maybe something is wrong?”

Thirty minutes into the visit, I realize I have more symptoms than I thought I had. Holy crap! I must be dying! The more I talk the more I realize maybe I should have come to the doctor weeks ago, even without a sucking chest wound.  Doctor is typing away on his computer and I’m talking away. Finally I run out of symptoms, thinking maybe I should just go check into the hospital.

I love this guy! After he listens to my heart and lungs he tells me he doesn’t know. What? You don’t know? I’m thinking. You’re the one with the medical degree!  Then I remember what my father in-law would tell me. “There’s a reason they call it practicing medicine.”  Doctor’s don’t always know what is wrong, of course, unless it’s a sucking chest wound or you arm is hanging on by one thin little muscle.

At this point he explains to me that he’s going to run a few tests and rule out a few things. Then we will start ruling out other things step by step. Being a cancer survivor he did tell me he didn’t think it was anything connected with that old story. That was good news. I was also relieved to hear he didn’t think any of my symptoms were due to my age or weight which is what I’m accustom to hearing. Also good news, he thought none of my symptoms were connected to anything too horribly wrong. He said my heart and lungs sounded strong and clear. Even my EKG came out good.

I would say all of this proves my theory of going to the doctor. I have always said don’t go to the doctor as they will find something wrong with you. In this case not so much. I don’t know if I’m happy nothing major stuck out for a diagnosis or if I wish he had a concrete diagnosis. In the mean time we wait for test results.

I think I might just need some Geritol and a dose of Castor Oil. That’s would mom would have given me. I would be good as new before long.

Authors: Insecure Messes

I was raised by two wonderful parents that instilled into me that I could do and be anything that I wanted, even back in the dark ages of the 1950s and 60s. I’m not sure why they were so surprised then I wanted to be a truck driver. Back in those days there just wasn’t many women truck drivers.

When my husband and I decided to start-up a concrete pouring business, they thought I was going to be the bookkeeper. They never thought I would be down in the dirt and mud, building forms and over seeing the pouring of basement walls.

By the time I found a job on a spraying crew that kept the back woods electrical lines cleared for the power company vehicles, they were accustom to my crazy list of job. Again I was the only woman on the crew of five men.

I wasn’t trying to prove anything, it was just that most jobs that were considered jobs for women, bored the hell out of me. Being outdoors or driving across the country was much more adventurous than sitting in an office, typing, filing and of course back then, getting the boss his coffee. Like I said, the dark ages.

I might have been insecure regarding my appearance, as most young women are, but I was never insecure regarding what I could accomplish. If I thought I wanted to try something, I did just that. If I liked something, I would stick with it until something else stole my interest. Seems as I look back now, once I had conquered something I wanted to move on to the next adventure.

Then I started writing. I became an insecure mess. My friends and family would read what I was working on and praise my work. All taken with a grain of salt. After all, how often does your friends and family tell you what ever you are doing is a bunch of crap? I’m lucky enough to have friends and family that will tell me to write a sentence this way or that, but so far I haven’t heard the crap word from them. Are they too polite or am I turning into a good writer?

When I’m reading other works, I still wish I could write this person or that person. I find myself wondering if I will ever be as good as others. I re-read my work and pick it to death, yet I don’t re-write a lot. Is this good or is this bad? I became a second guesser when I started writing. I became insecure.

My first book, a fictional story based on things that had happened to me and some of my friends back in the sixties, for the most part was true. So I did embellish almost all of the sex scenes. Hell, if I would have had that much sex I would probably be dead long ago. I wanted people to read it but was afraid of the judgment.

My second book, which I believe to be a much better book, I want everyone to read, just to prove I am improving. Then comes the insecure part. Sales have been good for an unknown author, in my opinion. Trying to get those readers to write a review is enough to make D. J. Salinger be insecure.

I have learned that becoming an author will bring the strongest person to their knees. That first bad review stabs you in the heart. You wonder why you even put yourself out there for all the world to see. You turn into an insecure mess, not just once but several times a day.

I get up each morning with a bright new outlook as I sit down at my desk. I always read what I wrote the day before to set the mood. On my good days I do not crumble into a heap doubting how the last chapter ended. When I do crumble into that heap of doubt, I climb back out, dust myself off and listen to the words from long ago. I can do anything I want in my life.

I do doubt that I will ever stop writing because I conquered this part of my life. Rather, I will keep trying until I can’t any longer.

Dropping the Apples

I sat here in my quiet, peaceful home yesterday, watching the rain fall and shut down all the social media. Five hours later I shut down that sequel file of MrPerfect.com.  I was writing the set up to where the crazy son decides to hunt down and kill the person that killed his father. His father was a serial killer and really deserved to die but the son just didn’t see it that way after finally learning how his father died.

Later I started feeling guilty about making these two men so very sick and deadly. I have never thought about actually harming a human. I’m not saying I wouldn’t defend myself, my family or my home. To the death if needed. I couldn’t feel too guilty about the father, as he is already in print. He deserved to die and if I say so myself, I killed him in a most fitting way.  Now comes the son. I’m finding him to be even sinister.

Last night as I laid in bed, plotting the next few chapters, I started to wonder how dark and horrible I could make the son without my readers start to worry about me. It dawned on me that of all the thriller, suspense, murder mysteries I have read I never thought the author was also a wacko but just someone with a wonderful imagination. Someone like me that is writing about something fearful to them.

I’m a few weeks shy of my sixty-fifth birthday and I still get creeped out when in a book or movie someone is being stalked, someone is sneaking around a dark house either being hunted down or being the hunter.  I’m going to blame this on my older brother.

When I was about eight or nine years old, my older brother told my mom he was going down to the farm and ride horses with his friend. I thought he had left when my mom asked me to go down to the cellar and bring up some apples for the pie she was making. I went to the cellar and picked out the number of apples she had told me she needed. I flipped out the light and turned into the stair well to make the trip back up the stairs. Several steps into my climb, someone reached around my face, placed their hand over my mouth, then drug me back down the steps and into the cellar. Apples went flying everywhere. I was so scared I couldn’t breathe. I don’t even remember if I tried to scream or fight. The next thing I remember was being set free and I took off up the stairs like a scared rabbit. I ran into the kitchen, with no apples, terrified. My mother was looking at me like I had gone mad. She was about to ask where the apples were when tears started running down my cheeks. My brother stepped into the kitchen bending over with laughter. It had been him!  He had heard my mom tell me to go get the apples. He had run down to the cellar and hid under the stairs. He got yelled at for scaring me and making me drop the apples. He had to go pick them up before he went to the farm.  My mom told me it was alright, he was just trying to scare me.

Well, he did a great job of that! I was almost thirty years old before I could go into that cellar and not think of that day. For all those years,  I would step into the area at the bottom of the stairs, reach around the corner and shut the light off, then take off as fast as I could go, up the stairs. On the other hand, maybe it was that experience that made me like scary books and movies.  A way of proving to myself I was brave. Writing about being scared could also be a way of proving to myself that I’m brave and can survive, even if I do drop the apples!

 

Super Bowl Madness

Yes, it’s time for a double dose of crazy pills for this woman! In case you have been living in a cave or under a rock, there’s a sporting event happening this weekend called the Super Bowl. I understand there has always been a lot of hype with is All American event but it seems all of the Valley of the Sun (Phoenix) have lost their minds. I’m trying to convince myself it’s because I have never lived near a hosting city before and never was subjected to this madness but I’m starting to wonder.

Two days to go until the big event and I don’t think I will make it to kick off without punching someone. If I see one more person wearing a football jersey I may feel the need to tackle them. Most people I see wearing these jerseys, I would wager they have no clue how the game is even played. They probably couldn’t tell you the quarterback’s name for either team or know the coach’s name. Wanna bet?

Local television stations have gone completely off-line and over the edge. The nightly news is nothing but Super Bowl stories. The whole east valley could go up in smoke and they would still be talking about the Super Bowl events going on downtown and on the west side of the city. Oh, they did give Scottsdale some notice last night over the golf tournament and Tiger Woods. Two hours in the morning, half hour at noon, hour and a half starting at five p.m. and half hour at ten p.m., all Super Bowl crap and a bit of weather. The weather of course is a forecast of what might be for all the events and the game.

Last night they reported tickets were going for $7,000 to $10,000 a ticket. The human race has lost their minds! People that bought tickets from a ticket broker for less than a $1,000 are not getting their tickets, but a refund and $2,000 per ticket oops we’re sorry from the ticket broker.  That’s a pretty good investment. If I could have seen into the future there would have been some Super Bowl ticket buying at this house. My luck the ticket prices would have gone down and I would be going to the game after all.

It’s truly beyond my reason of thinking that someone would pay $20,000 for two tickets to anything, even if they had enough money to do so. For that kind of money, I could buy a 100 inch television, surround sound, new furniture and all the beer and snacks for the game one could imagine, not have to leave my house and have money left over to take a nice vacation.

The football gods must have been cheering for the Colts because here in the Valley of the Sun, it’s been raining for two days. They must not like golf either.

As for me, I’m hunkered down in my little house in the southern part of the valley, watching the rain clouds move in over the mountains and have no plans on leaving my sanctuary until late Monday.

Happy Anniversary

Just about this time of day in 2008, I was having my picture taken by my daughter as they rolled me down the hall towards the operating room. We were all laughing at the photo shoot. A little humor to lighten the mood and that was fine with me. Having one of your breasts removed is not a laughing matter. We all can agree on that. But being in a good mood before facing such an operation is and was a very good thing for my family.

From diagnosis to surgery it had only been a little over three weeks. You are probably thinking why the rush? Getting it over and done with quickly worked best for me. I didn’t have time to dwell on the matter. Feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to happen. At this point I didn’t know if I would need further treatments such as radiation or chemo therapy. I had given thought to that and decided I was a bandana gal and not a wig gal. I had already made the decision to be reconstructed at the time of the surgery. A six-hour visit to the operating room, breast removed and a new one implanted.

To my surprise there wasn’t much pain. Well, not like I thought there was going to be. After all they cut muscle, moved a muscle and removed parts of me. I thought I was going to be doubled over in pain even with pain meds on board. As it was, since the doctors cut through so many nerves, the pain was nothing like I had envisioned. The hardest part of it all was looking at my body the first time the bandages were removed.

It was so much more ugly than I had thought it would be. My husband had to remind me that I was just a few days out of surgery and nothing had really started healing. It would all get better but the main thing was my cancer had not spread and I was going to be around a long time.

Here I am today writing about my experience and starting on my eighth year of cancer free-living. I can’t express to anyone reading this how very important those yearly mammograms are. My cancer was a fast growing cancer but my mammogram detected the two very small tumors long before anyone could have felt them or before they had a chance to spread to my lymph system. If I had put off my yearly mammogram I would be writing a different story or maybe not be here at all to write.

As it is, I kept on working, retired a bit over two years ago, have published two books, working on the third, have moved from Montana and am now living in Arizona. I still share my life with my supportive husband, my loving children, my two faithful dogs and help watch after my elderly mother in-law. Sure there are times when I think my life is not what I thought it would be at this age but it is what it is. It’s a full and happy life with all the stress and complications that everyday life brings. How wonderful it is that I’m alive to be a little stressed from time to time.

No one wants to ever hear the “C” word but there are far worse things in the world. Make a plan and keep your sense of humor. In my opinion, it was only a breast! That’s not who I am!

Life is Amazing

No amazement at my house these days. Life had decided to throw me some curve balls. Each day I awake with all the good intentions of getting the things done on my to do list. By ten a.m. I can’t find the list, much less see how many things I have checked off.

Several years ago my darling husband told me to go ahead and retire at sixty-two. After all the difference in my retirement payments at that age and waiting until I was sixty-five was less that what I was paying monthly for gasoline, going to and from work. Besides he said, you will have time to finishing writing you book, write more, and have more time for your photography. OH, it all sounded so good and looked good on paper. WTH happened?

I find that I do not have enough hours in the day. I suppose that is because I spend many of my hours trying to promote things I have already written and the rest of my day and evening trying to catch up on the things that need done around here. It would help if I had any kind of resemblance of a memory. Much of my time is used on looking for things I have lost in this house. You would think we lived in at Downton Abbey with all those rooms. In all fairness those people had handmaids, butlers, footmen, cooks, and employees by the handfuls to keep track of their stuff. They didn’t have to stop and hunt for the paint brushes they just purchased for their husband because they couldn’t remember where they put them. They had someone else to hunt and find them in the guest bedroom next to my clothes I’m packing for my trip. Isn’t that were everyone lays their new paint brushes?

To be honest, this kind of things have been happening long before I retired. After a shopping trip one afternoon, I couldn’t fine the hairspray I had just purchased. I hunted high and low. I finally decided the cashier must not have put it in a bag. Or maybe I had left it in the shopping cart. I looked in the truck and in the driveway. No hair spray. Later that evening as I was getting dinner ready and reached into the produce drawer of the refrigerator, low and behold! There was my new can of hairspray.

I suppose that many people would keep things like this to themselves but what fun would that be? If I think this is funny, I’m sure I’m not the only one. Probably because if you are reading this and you are older than fifty, you totally understand.

It’s so very true, some days I amaze myself.  It’s just flat out amazing that I can go to the grocery store and come home with most everything on the list I made and left on the kitchen counter. It’s also amazing that not once during the day to I walk into a room and not remember why I walked in there.  Remembering to get something out to thaw for dinner is always a huge plus to my day. Although, I am getting good at those quick thaws.

Mostly though, I find life in general is truly amazing.

Stalking or Devotion?

I saw a T-shirt this morning with a dog’s photo and a caption about it being a personal stalker. No truer words were ever written. Although I call my girls my body guards, they most certainly are my personal stalkers.  Mind you there is no place I can walk in this house or yard without both of them following me.

They watch me pee. They watch me shower.  They watch and hope they can do the pre wash of the dishes before they are loaded into the dishwasher. Of course they make sure I unload it correctly. They help me pick out my clothes every morning. Both girls like to have the blow dryer ran over them, so when ever I’m drying my hair, yep I have to make a few passes over their backs and tell them how pretty they are.

They help me vacuum the floors and watch me mop. And if I have the canister vacuum out instead of  the upright, they want me to run the vacuum over their backs. I often wonder if I should just vacuum the dogs everyday and forget about the floors.

It’s their job to watch me cook indoors and gill outdoors.

If they are not watching me, they are within reach. I have come to the conclusion dogs never really deep sleep. Once in a while they will dream, whatever dogs dream but are wide awake and on guard in a flash.  From what I believe to be a deep sleep, they will come to full alert hearing a noise too faint for my human ears. Yes, they sleep with me and nap with me. If I’m feeling under the weather, they seem to know and really stick close to me. As if they could get any closer.

Yes, these are my stalkers: watching, following, guarding and loving me with all their doggy heart.  Although I get irritated some days that I can’t turn around without bumping into one or both of them, I’m not sure what I would do without all this attention.

Stalk away my furry friends. In return I will love and take care of you until the end. When you get too old to stalk me on your own, I will make sure you are still by my side.

Mission or Vision?

I was asked the other day if I had a mission? My first thought was, “Huh?” I had to think about this. Mission or Vision?  As far as a mission in life, these change almost on a daily basis, all depending on your age and what is happening to you or around you.

As a young girl, my mission was to got to school and learn. That mission went by the wayside when I discovered boys. Then my mission was to have fun and maybe find someone to share my life. That was accomplished and several years later,  my mission was to raise the little human I had given birth. Then years later my mission was to beat cancer.

Where am I now on this mission crap? Today my mission statement might be, “To successfully cause my readers to drop out of sight until they finish reading my book.”  As one reader said, “I was late for work because I couldn’t put this book down.”  I could say mission accomplished but I want every reader to feel that way about my writing.  I’m certainly not saying this will be my mission tomorrow or next week but it will do for today.

My vision? As in a vivid picture created by my imagination? With my imagination I could never say I have just one vision for my life. My vision would be to create novels that people love to read. I can visualize a novel being on the best seller’s list. My most popular vision in my mind is to, “Make as many people smile and laugh as I can throughout my life.” When people tell me I’m funny I guess my vision is coming true.

I still find myself wondering if having a mission or vision is all that important as long as you are doing something you like with your life. If all you can aim for is that mission or vision you might miss out on some really fun and exciting experiences.  In other words, if I’m on a road leading to my mission in life and come to a fork in that road, I immediately wonder where that road may lead and what experiences I might find on that little sidetrack.

After thinking this over for a day or so, I have decided the most important mission is to live each day to the fullest and have a vision of waking up again tomorrow.  It doesn’t get any better or easier than that!

A Sweet and Simple Beginning

Half way through the second bottle of wine, with our hair down, shoes off, and blouses pulled out of our skirts, Cindy pulled out her laptop. “I think we should go on-line and build you a profile on Mr. Perfect.” “What the hell is Mr. Perfect?” I laughed. “No such thing!” “Ted would disagree with you.” Cindy took another drink of wine and tapped away on the computer. “Is that the website that you and Ted met on? What did he look under, Ms. Perfect?” “Look at me, of course he did!” Cindy was laughing so hard she could hardly type. “Well, you have a point there. You are pretty awesome.” “Here we go. Sign up for an account. Let’s build your profile just for kicks and giggles and see what happens. You don’t have to answer anyone if you don’t want to.” I had just enough wine in me to say, “Oh hell, why not?” Cindy started typing: User ID:  Delta Dawn “Wasn’t that your old CB name when you were driving truck?” “Yes” “Password?” “How about DD50?” I could remember that—Delta Dawn and my age.

“I’ll add that photo you showed me the other day. The one taken at your place, where you are wearing that pretty blue blouse and you’re holding a glass of wine.” “Okay, that’s a pretty good photo, I guess.” I stood there while Cindy filled out the questionnaire. She knew a lot about me since we chatted every day at work over lunch.  “Let’s see if I got this all right. Interests, I listed, hiking, shooting, hunting, fishing, and riding my Harley or any outdoor activity. Want to add anything?” “Nope, I think that just about sums me up.” Cindy hit the accept button and I watched as my personal information went into cyberspace. Was there really a Mr. Perfect out there for me? I doubted it, but Cindy was sure there was. “I need to eat something. I have had way too much wine. You hungry?” I finished the last drop of wine in my glass. “Not really, but I probably should eat something, too.” Cindy pulled some cheese from the double door refrigerator and some crackers from one of the pantries. She poured us some more wine. We sat there nibbling at the cheese and crackers and drinking more wine when her laptop chimed. “Well, well, what do we have here?” Cindy pulled the laptop over, sitting it between us. “Hey, you have a hit!” “Really?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Check this out. He looks like Grizzly Adams!” There before me was a profile of a man probably in his late fifties with a photo of himself standing in front of some trees. “He does look like Grizzly Adams, but not as handsome.” Cindy tapped away on the computer. “He’s from Georgia. Ooh, a Southern Grizzly Adams.” “There are no Grizzlies in Georgia.”   “Never mind,” Cindy announced. “He’s married and looking for someone to join him and his wife.” “See, I told you; creeps! Can you undo my profile?” I poured more wine. “Oh, don’t give up so easy. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.” She tapped some more keys. “More like my Princes always turn out to be scum bags.”   “Ah, here’s another profile.”   I was standing behind Cindy, looking over her shoulder. “He looks too young. He must be sixteen! I don’t want jail bait!” “Profile says he’s twenty five. That might be fun to play with!” “I don’t think so.” I was just about to sit back down when another hit on my profile came into view.  The photo came into focus and I just stood there, unable to comment. Looking back at us from the laptop was a green eyed man, dressed in what I would consider bird hunting attire, brown pants and brown hunting jacket. In front of him sat a black Labrador retriever. The man was holding an over and under shotgun. There was something lying on the ground in front of the Lab, but the photo was cut off.  “Read the profile!” Cindy started reading aloud, “Fifty-four years old, six foot four. Divorced, grown children, one granddaughter. Lives in Montana. He’s a gunsmith. Likes shooting, hunting, hiking, fishing, camping, and most anything outdoors. He loves his wilderness cabin. His name is Michael Conrad.” “Gee, he’s handsome. But Montana? That’s across the country.” “So what? Will it hurt to ping him back? It’s not like he’s going to show up on your doorstep.” Without another word, Cindy pinged his profile back. “Maybe he will answer you.” Just as I was about to answer her, the backdoor opened. We both jumped and started laughing. Ted walked into the kitchen shaking his head. “What are you two up to?” “I got Dawn on Mr. Perfect and we thought you were her new contact showing up. Not really, he’s in Montana.”   Ted set his briefcase down, hugged and kissed Cindy, and gave me a friendly hug. “How much wine have you two had?” “Oh, probably too much. Maybe you should put us to bed,” Cindy giggled.

The computer pinged again. It was Montana. We all read the text. “Delta Dawn, you have time to chat?” “Answer him!” Cindy giggled. “I don’t know what to say. I’m ready for bed.” I really was ready for bed with too much wine under my belt. “Just say you were about to get off the computer for the night. Maybe you can chat tomorrow night.”   I took over the keyboard and typed just that. Within a couple of seconds, the reply came. “How about eight tomorrow night, your time?” Laughing, I typed back, “Sure, I’ll look for you, good night.” I shut the computer before he could reply.

My Last Words

An interview with me. That sounds as strange to my ears as me promoting my book. When I’m honest with myself, I’m wondering who would want to know what I have to say? But then again, I suppose what I think and say is just as important as anyone else. Come to think about it, my ramblings are not any more whacked out than some super stars that people seem to hang onto their every word.  In fact, I make more sense even when I’m being sarcastic.  Of course, that’s my opinion.

This was a written interview which made it easy. I wondered just how I would respond, on the spot, in a live person to person interview. I suppose it would depend on the person doing the interview and the audience. You know that little thing in your brain that controls your mouth from blurting out things maybe shouldn’t be said at a certain time? OH, I think I’m missing one of those.  Yep, my brain is missing several things regarding behavior and my tongue. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, just that I seem to get myself into some fun situations or not, because of that. I’m thinking a live interview just might be one of  those times.  No doubt it would end up being fun.

Like that old Kenny Roger’s song, “you need to know when to hold up,” my song should say, “you need to know when to shut up.”  Yes, I’m one of those people who loves to get in the last word, if only to make you laugh. Again, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing, but don’t ask my husband about that!

One would think at my age I would have learned by now just when to keep quiet. In my defense, I can say I’m much better at it than I use to be. On the other hand, at my age, to hell with being quiet. After all, ya never know when those very last words may come. If my last words leave a smile on someone’s face, then it’s all worth while.

 

Don’t Shoot!

Actually, I have felt like shooting my computer many times. It’s not when something goes wrong during an update or even when I lose internet connections. It’s when I read back what I have been writing for several hours.

My brain goes on these rants and unfortunately, my brain works much faster than my fingers and my eyes. I have even found myself typing, deep in thought trying to actually visualize the scene and my eyes are closed. Am I the only person that does this I have often wondered? I often think my editor believes I type all my work with my eyes shut.  My editor lives in NY where it’s hard to require hand guns and this is a good thing for her. She doesn’t shoot her computer when editing my work.

Here lately, I have come to the conclusion that I’m in need of a new keyboard. The t’s and r’s keep sticking.  Yesterday as I was reading the chapter I had just pounded out, I had to add several works my slow fingers completely left out of my sentences.  Spell check did catch all the errrrrr  and the tttthere.

I find it very hard to slow down my typing when my brain is flowing and the words are coming easily.  Also proper grammar leaves the ranch when my creative juices are flowing like a flash flood, along with punctuation.  Again, I’m wondering do all writers have these same problems?

I apologize to all my readers of my blog and twitter for my fast brain and my slow fingers.  There are many times I hit the publish or tweet button and think, “ah crap, I forgot to edit that.” I do hope you understand and edit my rants for your own reading pleasure. I’m not dumb, just always seem to be in a hurry. Always trying to get the words leaking from my brain to my finger tips, before the thoughts escape me.

In the mean time, a deep and appreciated thank you, for every editor on the planet. Please don’t shoot your computer!

 

I’m A Liar!

2015!! You must be kidding me! If you would have told me in 1965, I would be ringing in the new year in 2015, I would have asked you for a toke of what you were smoking!  Okay, maybe not in 1965 but in 1969 I would have.  2015, that is a number of science fiction, no? WTF happened?  If you think I’m going to say, I got old, you must be smoking something now. I refuse to admit that this year I will officially be old. It might be official, but it will never register in my brain. I have no old cells in my brain.

I have old cells all over my body but my brain seems to still be young.  After all, it thinks I can still do things I did just a few short years ago. Well it thinks that until the next day when there aren’t enough Aleve to get me through the day. What happened to the balance I once had that allowed me to ice skate and walk around without tripping on air?

I have never been a nap person. My mother would fight with me get me to take a nap, from the beginning of my life I hated naps. The only time you saw me napping was when I was sick or hung-over or both. This past year, I find myself taking naps. I keep telling myself, it’s that I don’t sleep well at night and need that little pick me up in the late afternoon. I usually sleep like a dead person.  We become such liars in our older years and we tend to believe ourselves!  “I don’t need a nap.  I can stay up late. I’m not that fat. I’m not that skinny. I can do that. ”  I can do that, is one of our biggest lies. When we see that we can’t so something we once could do, we lie again. “I must be having a bad day.”

Today, I think I finally really understand my parents. Both of them would talk on New Years day about how they never thought about living that long. Amazed of all the changes in their lives through the years. I remember both of them saying, 1985! Unbelievable. They were going to be 65 that year.  A magic number that really sinks in to the young brain cells trying it’s best to make you believe you are getting old.

I refuse! Sure I might not be able to do all the things I once did, but that’s a part of plain ol living. I may not be able to remember a lot of stuff. I have to say if I didn’t have to remember 400 passwords I could probably remember more trivial things. (I probably need a nap!) If getting old is a state of mind, then I’m golden. My brain thinks I’m still 27! I’m doing my best to not allow my brain and my body to communicate. I just keep lying to my body and so far it’s working!

 

 

 

 

Happy Heart!

 

Yes a simple text made my heart happy a few minutes ago. Actually, more happy because I’m basically a happy person. This text was passed on to me from my daughter that had given MrPerfect.com as a gift.  The text read:

So…  im still laughing that I was actually contemplating doing match.com
Then i read this book…. guess I’ll just be single forever.  Montana
sounds beautiful but heck no to camping.  Actually had tough time putting
it down.  Read it in 2 days  🙂

I think I can think of this as a five-star review. Do you?  Oops, there I go again on the damn rollercoaster ride. Actually I was already going to the top of the first incline this morning, as I had some sales over night.

OK, I’m probably by now driving my followers bonkers with this book stuff.  I would apologize but I just can’t help myself. Regardless of the reviews, the praises, the stars, the best thing in my opinion is having someone say they had a tough time putting the book down.  That means my words grabbed them and held them.

Thank you, all of you, for reading my book, my blog and my tweets.  A grand way to end this year!

Rollercoaster From Hell!

Am I the only one? Am I insecure or optimistic? Why can’t I go just one day without checking my sales report on Amazon? It’s painful! One day I’m excited because I have several sales and a couple of Kindle Unlimited borrows. Then the arrow on the graph drops and nothing! No action for a few days. Then, wa-la a couple more sales. I’m all excited again. Getting people to read your books is the worse rollercoaster ride ever!

Climbing up to the highest point of the ride, the day your book goes live on Amazon. Then the big drop because thousands of people did not immediately go on-line and buy ten copies.  Then a few sales takes you back up to the next high point.  Ups, down, spins and loops! Before the first month is over you need to be taking massive doses of Dramamine or start drinking on a daily basis.

Why can’t I stop looking at the damn sales graph? I’m a glutton for punishment? I like to think I’m an optimist just waiting for that day when all of a sudden I start getting daily sales!  I wonder if one actually gets off the crazy rollercoaster even when they achieve daily sales? I would like to know!

 

Where Is Life Taking You?

Yep this is me! Or how I feel when promoting my book. I’m getting better at this begging, I mean self promoting. It seems it will never be something I’m completely comfortable doing. Seems I’m much better at promoting someone else’s book. I need a pimp. I mean, I need an agent! With eyes like these how could anyone not want to read my work or for that matter become my agent?

I will say, that some of my begging, there I go again, I mean promoting seems to be doing some good. I’m excited to see that MrPerfect.com is being read by a few people belonging to Amazon Unlimited.  Now, here comes the big eyes and the begging. For crying out loud, leave a review. I’m beginning to think that only other authors leave reviews.

Just when the self-doubt starts creeping into my being and I’m about to give up this story telling, bam! Something good happens. Someone leaves a review,  sends me an email or I get a few sales. New life is pumped into my head and fingers. The words start flowing and the sad kitty eyes disappear until it’s time to promote again that day or the next.

I even thought about standing out on the street corner with a sign that reads, Please Read for Review,  instead of Will Work for Food. If people stopped I would hand them a book. I checked out street corners yesterday and decided with the crazy traffic I would be risking my life standing anywhere near the street. Of course, if I got hit, I would make the evening news and people would hear about my book. “An independent author was standing near a busy intersection near the mall today. She was trying to give her book away when she was struck by an SUV. The driver said she never saw the author, only the last parking place available across the street. The driver of the SUV was not charged but the author was cited for panhandling. More news at 10.”

I never thought I would be begging in my retirement years. Sorry, I meant to say, I never thought I would be writing and self promoting in my retirement years. One just never knows where life will lead you.

 

Best Month EVER!

Amazon just deposited my royalties for the month of December!  For the very first month I can do something with my earnings!  Yes, they deposited $14.90!  I am excited!  That’s the most I have made in one month!  I have decided I can take my husband out for a coffee in celebration.  Well, if we go during happy hour I can buy us both a beer!  Who said there was no money in becoming an author?

If you look at that deposit you know that I’m not in this for the money.  Oh of course, all authors have visions of one day being on the Best Seller’s List.  They seem to be few and far between.  That’s OK. The very fact that not only did people purchase my work but some even borrowed the book on the Kindle Unlimited.

Thank you all that had a hand in the deposit today. Your continued support is truly appreciated.  I feel the love every time one of your comment on one of my postings or when you tell someone about MrPerfect.com.

Some What Prepared!

 

Ah, peace and quiet! The big Christmas holiday has come to an end. The house is quiet and the stress of the days prior to the holiday has eased. We are eating left overs for the next six weeks. I don’t even need to cook!  So it is for those of us that don’t head out on December 26th at six in the morning to find that special after Christmas sale. Or those that wish to be the first in line to return that ugly sweater that Aunt Gertrude gave you. I have never understood why people do that. No not the giving of sweaters, the returning of unwanted things on the 26th. Is there some rule that things must be returned the very next day or something horrible happens? Like the emails you get stating “send this to fifteen people in eight minutes or a comet will drop on your house in the next eight days,’ or something to that effect.

I’m in need of a pair of rain boots for our irrigation tomorrow night. It is totally my fault that I am without a pair of boots to keep my feet dry. In my defense I will say, I was hoping our rotation time for the monthly irrigation would be during the day, which would mean my husband would have the honors. I am not that lucky. The schedule arrived the other day and of course I must open the irrigation gates an hour after he goes to work.  After the sun has gone down and the cool night air is upon the land.  I wasn’t too worried about the chill as the water bubbling out of the gates us usually warmer than the night air. Then I saw the weather report for this weekend. Below freezing for several nights. What? This is Arizona. Remember that “it’s a dry heat crap?”  What do they mean below freezing? Here in the valley?

This is when I remembered I needed a pair of rubber/rain boots! Wading through water, even if it is warmer than the air, doesn’t appeal to me when the air is near freezing. Yes, it’s true I have stepped outside barefooted with frost and even snow on the back steps of my Montana home.  Yes, I grilled year round in Montana, having to knock snow off the grill to get it opened up to start the flames. Yes, I have run out to the garage in my slippers with a foot of snow on the driveway in Montana.  I guess I have become a sissy since moving to Arizona, or have come to my senses.

I did get a little lucky, as I don’t need my rain boots until tomorrow. The shopping gods are looking out for me. I do not need to venture out of my house today to fight the crowds. No scouting for parking places. No waiting in check out lines. No squeezing between people gathered in the aisles looking for the best deals.

Hopefully by tomorrow afternoon, everyone will have returned their ugly sweaters, returned the things they have two of, or the people looking for that special deal found it and all have gone home.

I have however, checked the liquor cabinet to make sure I have a little something to warm myself after I shut the gates tomorrow. Must be some what prepared for cold weather!

A Christmas Love Story

The year was 1939, Fort Smith Arkansas. Historians have a lot to say about that year. War breaking out in Europe was the main concern for many but just getting by day-to-day was a way of life for many.

On average things looked good for people across the nation. One could buy a new house for $3,800. A new car would drop you back a good $700 but you could fill that car up with gasoline costing you ten cents a gallon.  One could leave a grocery store with bags full of groceries for just a few dollars.  A loaf of bread could be bought for eight cents and hamburger was fourteen cents a pound. I might have been in big trouble being able to buy coffee at three pounds for thirty-nice cents. The Wizard of Oz and Gone With The Wind came out that year. Americans could see the movie for twenty-three cents.

It all sounds really good, but so many people were not making the average income of $1,700.  Most Americans were lucky if their yearly income was above a thousand dollars.

A young woman from a small coal mining town had moved to the big city to make her way. Struggling, Jeanne landed a job at the movie theater and found a room to rent through a friend of the families.  She was engaged to an older many, he was twenty-seven and had a good job. He came from a prosperous family. If it wasn’t for him taking her out to dinner, she would have gone to bed hungry many nights.

One afternoon when she reported to work, she noticed a new employee, a tall, handsome, quiet, man. He was to be their new usher. It wasn’t long before conversations before opening time became a habit between all the employees. David, new usher was full of himself, she thought. Conceded and a braggart, she was sure. He worked during the day for the city, digging ditches, which explained his lean yet muscular build. His tanned skin set off his pale blue, almost icy blue eyes. Sometimes the color of the sky and other times a pale aqua.  She wouldn’t let him know just how handsome she thought he was.

He was smitten with her. The first time he looked into her deep violet-blue eyes, he was sure he could drown in them.  She was all he could think about during the day, hand shoveling new water line ditches for  the city. Hot summer days in Arkansas was enough to melt the strongest of men. No one had air conditioning and fortunate to have fans. He would rush home, clean up in front of a small fan and try to make the trip to the theater without being hot and sweaty again. The cool air in the theater was his only relief.

One night when a man picked her up from work, David’s heart fell. One of the other ushers told him to forget about her, she was engaged. Denying he had eyes for her, he made up his mind that he would win her over. How, he had no idea. He was working two jobs, didn’t have a pot to piss in, lived with his cousin, and had an old beat up car. What could he offer her?

The next night at work, he set his plan into motion. He would flirt and tease this beauty into his arms.  First he made her tell him about her fiancé, so he had some ammunition for the fight.  It didn’t take long before he started chipping away at her.  Placing as much doubt in her mind as he could regarding her engagement. Explaining how much more fun life would be with him. How he would kiss her all the time. She would try to laugh it all off, but the handsome man was planting the seeds of doubt. She had to admit to herself, he made her laugh, she was so very much attracted to him, she often wondered if he did kiss as well as he bragged.

At night in her small room, her thoughts concerned David, not her fiancé.  No matter how she tried to only think of the man she was to marry, she would fall asleep dreaming of being in David’s arms.  Jeanne didn’t know but David had a steady girl too. They had also talked about marriage but no formal engagement. He was poor and was barely supporting himself, how could he take on a wife? Yet, he was thinking about doing that same thing with Jeanne.

At closing time one night as the employees were leaving the theater, David noticed Jeanne walking down the sidewalk.  He ran up beside her and explained she shouldn’t be walking alone. Where is you fiancé he asked.  He was out-of-town on family business.  It was David’s chance!  He walked her home for her own safety. She would never admit it but she was thrilled and so excited she found herself lost for words.  They made small talk all the way to her place, she was wondering what happened to the man who had bragged about how we would kiss her and make her forget all others.

She turned to say goodnight and thank him for walking her home when he took her into his arms and kissed her. He was right! He kissed her like no one else ever had before. She melted into his arms. She kissed back.  He then pulled away and said good night. Breathless she whispered good night back, turned and opened the front door. When she turned he was walking away.

That was how a love story began so many years ago.  Three months after that walk home, Jeanne and David were married. After that one kiss they could never get enough of each other. Both had to break off the relationships with their respected others.  The friend of Jeanne’s family, Mr. Bell worked in the court-house. He arranged for a Judge to marry Jeanne and David on December 24, 1939, even though it was a Sunday.

After the quick ceremony, Mr. Bell took the two young lovers to dinner.  Scared and nervous of the pending honeymoon to be spent in Jeanne’s small room, the two decided to delay a while longer and  attend midnight mass.  Neither one was Catholic and had no idea what was going on.

After the service, David kissed Jeanne on the steps of the church, whispered into her hear, we have waited long enough. It will be fine because I love you with all my heart.

Seventy-five years ago today, my mom and dad tied the knot, that stayed tied through thick and thin, sickness and health, for richer and poorer, and all the other things that come with life.  Although they both have been gone for some years now, Christmas Eve was always a special time in our lives. Not only did we celebrate Christmas, we celebrated a special love between a man and a woman.

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad.

 

Do Something Nice for Free!

It seems that everything I wish for my friends and family are the things I want for them all year round: love, health, happiness, family and friends. Of course, enough to eat and a comfortable place to live.  I’m very lucky to have those things, who could ask for anything more? The rest of the stuff goes on the things I would ‘like’ to have list but not necessary.

Things like: a new car, new furniture, a vacation, more money to spend on others, dining out and traveling.

If I could ask all of you for one thing on my ‘like’ to have list, it would be a minute of your time. A minute to log onto Amazon, (http://amzn.com/B00OQJENJK ) and put my book on your wish list. This minute of your time would generate more interest for my book. The more interest, the better.  A simple request.

This is also a simple request for any other new and/or independent authors you know. This small minute of you time out of your busy day could make a big difference in an author’s life.  And it’s free!  How often do you get to do something nice for someone for free?

 

 

 

A Damn Good Feeling!

I received two emails today from readers telling me how much they loved MrPerfect.com.  One said they read it in one sitting because they couldn’t put the book down.  I was delighted.

This was equivalent to:

A waitress being left a hundred-dollar tip!

Bringing home that all A’s report card!

A promotion! A raise!

Catching the biggest fish!

I could go on and on.  All in all, it may not be on Amazon’s or the New York Best Seller’s list but it’s a damn good feeling!

 

 

To Every Law Abiding Citizen

First, I apologize for breaking my challenge before the end of the year but today has proved too much for me to keep my mouth shut and my fingers still.

Two NYC police officers were killed today as they sat in their patrol car. An assignation, plan and simple. Why?

I blame most of this on Al Sharpton!  He told the Mayor and Police Commissioner to listen to him or there would be hell to pay.

First of all Al Sharpton shouldn’t even be on the streets much less making demands. He owes over 4 million dollars in back taxes.  4 freaking million dollars!  Tell me how and why he is not in jail?  What a slap in the face all of us hard-working citizens that pay their taxes to keep the government working. Then  the president (no capital letters because that would show respect), invites the tax owing, riot inducing, dishonest man into the White House. The people’s house!  Why wasn’t the IRS waiting on Al when he arrived at the White House or at the meeting with the Mayor of New York City?

Al Sharpton is a dirt bag lawyer that has stirred more hate than anyone else in the last fifty years and now the gunning down of two officers is on his head.

Al Capone was a thug, responsible for many deaths and crimes and what was the final charge that put him in prison? Tax evasion.  Al Sharpton is a hater, stirring hate and causing crimes and owes the IRS over 4 million dollars in back taxes and he walks free.  The IRS knows where he is and where he’s going. How dare Obama invite this piece of shit into our White House!

How much more hate and discontent will Sharpton be allowed to spread, how many more lives will be lost because of his words  and how many more dollars will he be allowed to owe before this menus to society is thrown in jail and the key thrown away?

Obama should be arrested for harboring a criminal!  Obama knows Sharpton owes back taxes and don’t you think he doesn’t. If he says otherwise, he’s lying.

Liking Obama or not liking Obama has nothing to do with this. The fact that the nation’s president invited a criminal into the White House for any other reason than to turn himself in, is a disgrace. Every law-abiding citizen in the nation should feel this way.

Tipping

When you receive exceptional service from a waitress or waiter, do you leave a tip? I bet that even if the server is not on their game that day or just someone who should look for another occupation, you still leave a tip.

Leaving book reviews are tips for the author.  It works the same way. If the book was something you want all your friends to read and you just couldn’t put it down, you leave a great review.  Even if you think this person should give it up and find another way to express themselves, you should still leave a review.

A kind, you didn’t much like the story or the was it was presented is still a small tip for that author.

Large or small, author’s love receiving reviews.

Don’t forget to tip your author!

A No Brainer!

 

Holy Crap, my new glasses arrived yesterday and I see so much better.  Which is a good thing. I have not been writing much because my eyes have been hurting so much, giving me headaches.  Yesterday when I got home from picking up my new glasses I could see all the dust on my furniture!  When did that happen? Wasn’t it just yesterday I cleaned the house and dusted the furniture?  Apparently not!

This morning as I sat down at my computer I had the over whelming feeling that I should look at my posts for the last few weeks when my eyes started really bothering me.  I slapped myself back into reality! My eyes had nothing to do with what I have written, only the number of words that I wrote.

Luckily for all of us, I have kept my word on my challenge and for me, I have been fairly positive and nothing political has been posted.  Even the one liberal that really pushes my not so liberal side hasn’t caused me to break my challenge.  My, my, that’s a great accomplishment for me.

Now I have new glasses and can get back to writing in sequel to MrPerfect!  No time for housework now!  I look at it this way, if you are going to visit please give me a heads up.  If you are a friend, you have seen my house at it’s worse and you lived through it.

A sparkling clean house is a sign of someone who can afford a maid or hasn’t learned that there are more things in life than cleaning!  Well, I can’t afford that maid so you know where I stand on the matter.  Having fun or having a clean house? Seems like a no brainer to me!

Enjoy every single day, no matter what life throws at you, because you never know if it’s going to be your last.

It Has Happened Again

 

Searching new ways to promote my book, I received an e-mail from Amazon saying I had another review posted.   I had sent a copy of my book to an acquaintance here in the valley, just to see if she would read my work.  To my surprise she posted a five-star review. I was so excited.

As I opened my WordPress blog page a few minutes ago I noticed how many followers I have and how many people read my blog. I was amazed at that number. I would have never thought that many people would enjoy reading the stuff that come out of my, mostly goofy thoughts.  Then I started to wonder how I could get just have of my blog followers to read my book?

Then other questions started popping into my head.  Maybe my blog followers don’t read fiction?  Should fiction writers actually tell their readers which characters and events in the book are real and come from their own life experiences?  No, I have never been lost and fighting for my life in the wilderness of Montana.  I have been lost in Chicago and running from some thugs, but that was in my first book. When writing fiction, how much information is too much information?

How do I spark the interest of my blog readers?  Maybe blog readers don’t read book? Maybe they get sucked into the internet everyday and have no time to actually read a book?

I’m trying to write a sequel. Notice I said trying.  I say that only because it seems since the release of MrPerfect.com, I spent my time promoting, learning how to promote or promote better, blogging, texting, twittering, emailing, and researching.  Every now and then I actually send the book to a publisher and wait for the rejection letter.  I read an article yesterday from an author that had over 1,700 rejections before a publisher actually picked her up. I started writing late in life, I won’t live long enough to get 1,700 rejections!

So is the days in the life of an independent author, from what I am reading.  We do everything but beg people to read our works, walk on the clouds when we get a four or five-star review, and fall into the black abyss when we see our sales report and no one even borrowed the damn book.

I’m a cancer survivor and I didn’t know I was this strong until I started writing and trying to sell my work. The first crappy review threw me into the abyss for about an hour.  It was horrible! Then I sold another copy! Out of the abyss!

Just in case your didn’t catch on, I received another five-star review on Amazon!  Wahoooooooo.

 

 

Oops On Keurig!

Last week my old Keurig coffee maker passed away. I promptly went to Wal-Mart and found a great deal on one of the new 2.0 makers.  Even got a $25 gift card with it. Wahoooo.

I have been fighting with the damn thing since I brought it home.  It would not use the K cups I was using from Sam’s.  So I ordered the San Francisco brand from Amazon which I used in my old maker for years.  It even said, works with the new 2.0 makers.  Nope!  Still getting the Oops message on the new maker.

So I borrowed some K cups from mom that came from Costco. They worked. They would get me through until my order from Amazon came today. You got it, the Rio Grande K cups that even had the Keurig logo on them, didn’t work either.  Enough already. I called Keurig and they mostly said I had to use only Keurig K cups.  Sorry, but I’m not paying $.55 and more for a k cup for my coffee maker. Not going to happen. She offered to send me two boxes of K cups. Well that’s nice of  them but what do I do after they are gone?

I boxed up the new 2.0 maker and the big pods I had bought and loaded it all and myself up in the truck and headed off to Wal-Mart.  In soccer moms picking up little Johnny and Susie from school traffic. I had taken my crazy pills so there was no road rage even though I thought about it.

I walked up to Customer Service and the girl looked at the 2.0 maker and turned to her work mate and stated, “See, another one!”  She then began to tell me they are not working with anything but the high dollar Keurig K cups.  Told me she bought the Keurig Elite model and it takes anything and everything. So I now have the simple Keurig Elite model and it’s working just fine.

So Oops Keurig on you. I will pay your high price for a coffee maker but I refuse to pay extra for your little K cups. If my new not so fancy maker stops working, I’m done with your coffee makers period.

 

Are You A Character?

No one wants to face a serial killer in my upcoming book? Win A Place received more likes and comments than any other post for almost a week and yet I have yet to receive an email from any of you that gave me a like.  Help an author! Become a character at kdbloodworth1@gmail.com, just give me a name and brief description of how you see you, in character.

 

A New Era?

In keeping with my challenge I refuse to be negative on today’s blog.  Everything I have tried to write sounds negative or will sound negative to some folks.  Wow, this challenge is proving to be harder than I thought it would be. Maybe that’s why no one joined me.

I can not comment on anything it seems without sounding negative or political. How many more days until the first of the year? 16 more day. I can do this!

On the positive side of things, I actually went shopping with my mom in-law yesterday and didn’t see any children having melt downs.  No one ran into me with their shopping cart, (buggy to all your southerners) and no one was rude in the stores.  Eleven days from Christmas and I was amazed. The traffic was a bit congested but everyone was even being polite on the roads and in the parking lots.

I was even delightfully surprised at the very crowded grocery store, people being polite and not crashing into each other.  People actually waiting on others in the aisles making their selections.  People making eye contact and not rolling their eyes because an elderly person (not me) was taking a bit longer choosing.

Of course then the Holly Jolly Christmas started on the over head speakers for the third time, I thought I might lose it, but all was good. I focused on the deli display, wondering just how good that fried chicken might really be?

Shouldn’t our shopping trips always be a good experience? I was thinking that maybe things are changing. Maybe, just maybe, yesterday was the start of a new era of manners and politeness.  I may not go back out again before the holiday so my bubble doesn’t get busted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Win A Place

If you always wanted to be in a book, here’s your chance.  If you would like to be in the sequel to MrPerfect.com, please send me some information about yourself.  Age, interests, appearance, what you do for a living or what you would like to do for a living and a little background.  I will not of course use your real name in the book and I will send the person I pick an email letting them know they are the one.  I will also send you a free copy of the book once it’s published.  Oh, warning, you will probably be killed off, after all another serial killer is on the loose.

Please send information to:  kdbloodworth1@gmail.com

Please keep it clean and friendly.

 

I Can Do This!

Last night I posted this challenge on Facebook.  Wow, I only got two likes.  But that’s Okay! I’m going to do my very best to keep it happy and light for the next 21 days.  I do hope this is easier than sticking to a diet. If it’s not, I’m doomed.

Being a news junkie I’m sure this will be harder than I thought it would be. The first thing I do in the mornings after making myself a cup of coffee is to check a news source.  TV, internet, radio, something.  This morning I have done none.  It’s killing me!  I want to know what is going on in the world. As my husband days, “the same stupid stuff that was going on yesterday.”  He doesn’t understand after the biggest part of ten years of having him, my daughter and son (in-law) working and traveling all over the world, while I held down the home front, it’s a habit. I think quitting smoking might have been easier but that was in 1979 and I’m sure my memory has eased that pain a bit over the years.

I do promise no matter what I read or see, I’m not going to respond in my normal sarcastic humor.  If I do fail, I promise to get back on the wagon.

I can do this!

Let Me Die Before……

I don’t even know where to start. I just saw a report on TV that Harvard Law School students want exams to be postponed because they are too up set over the grand juries decisions made this month in MO and NY.  HUH?  I backed the DVR up and listened to the report again. I sat there with my mouth open, slack-jawed not believing the words I was hearing.

What a bunch of mambey pansies! What in the hell are these students going to do when a judge over one of their cases does something they don’t like? Are they going to ask the judge if they can go home because they are upset?  If Harvard Law School had any balls it would tell these students that exams will be as scheduled and if you don’t show up you fail. But then, we all know that the Liberal Harvard School hasn’t had a set in too many years to count. Too much big money supports that school and all the other schools that are following in their steps.

This would be like going to West Point and not showing up for rifle training because the loud noises scare you and you get upset. West Point should do away with rifle training because of upset cadets?

Harvard Law School and their students need a good swift kick in the ass by R. Lee Ermey, Gny Sgt Ret.  If I had just paid thousands of dollars for my child to attend any school, much less a high dollar school like Harvard and they were out protesting instead of studying for their exams, their wish would be for R. Lee to show up instead of me!  He would go easy on them compared to the ass chewing coming from me!

I would also demand that Grand Jury classes be given again because apparently they are not being given correctly or every one protesting just didn’t learn how Grand Juries actually work under our system.  Not to worry if it was my child, they would ace the class after I got done with them.

Lord, please let me die before I should ever need a lawyer again for anything. I think I would rather go to jail than have to deal with what is now coming out of our universities.

Remember When Shopping

 

Unless you have ever owned a small business or have self published a book, you might not understand just how hard it is to keep going every single day. We do not have a huge corporation behind us, blasting ads on television, radio, newspapers, mailing ads or even on the internet. We are struggling every day, hoping that someone will see us, see our store front as they drive on their way to the mall, or that they might hear about our books from one of our readers.  We nag our friends to give us a try in hopes they will pass the word.  We work countless hours on our own, no personal assistants, maybe a couple of employees to help with our stores, no high dollar editors or publishers, and no Madmen doing ads for us.

Nope it’s just us.  I’m not asking that anyone stop buying from big box stores. I buy there myself.  I’m asking that you shop local and shop independent authors first. You will be pleasantly surprised of the many options out there in your local stores and looking at self published authors. There are some really good writers out there looking for a little attention.

Remember us for the holidays and all year long.

No Apologies

Nope, I have moved on to the “I don’t give a rat’s ass” period of my life. For those of you that read this blog or follow me on Ask Dawn, Twitter, Facebook on both my Dawn Bloodworth or my K D Bloodworth Author page, you probably should read this post. Many of you have known be before first grade. That’s a long freaking time. Many have known me for ten, 20 and even 30+ years. If you don’t get me by now, there might not be any hope. But that’s on you, because I get me.

I’m not a well-known comedian that even the most politically correct will laugh. However, I have always and I will probably always make light of or make fun of the following people: Whites, blacks, browns, yellow, reds, and all shades in-between. Tall people, short people, little people, thin people, skinny people, large people, fat people. Smart people, dumb people, slow people and special people, which I still don’t get that term. What makes them any more special than the rest of us? Working people, out of work people, hard-working people, lazy people. Doctors, lawyers, bakers, bankers, firemen, police  and Indian Chiefs. Sailors, Soldiers, Marines, Airmen, National Guard and Long Shore Men. Actors, TV, Movies or on Stage.  Catholics, Baptist, Methodius, Mormons, Jehovah Witnesses’, Muslims and all the rest. Farmers, factory workers, fishermen, and fools. Straight people, gay people, and all the others. Germans, Polish, Irish, Arabs, Canadians, Americans, Mexicans, Africans, British, Islanders, Yankees, Southerners, Rednecks, Mid-westerners, Westerners, California folks, cattle herders and sheep herders. Democrats, Republicans, Independents , Tea Party and yes the President and his family.  But most of all, I will and always have, made light of myself first and the most. Because, we are all humans and we are funny as hell.

I’m an almost 65-year-old, white, retired, over weight, greying, American. I have lived through a lot in my short 64.8 years on this earth and I have earned the right to make light of it all. Did you notice I said I was an American? Not a German/American, or a Mexican/American, or an African/American. After my family and God (which I couldn’t have one without the other) comes my country. All of you that fought so hard to live here, either legally or illegally, shut the hell up about your home country or your ancestry. If you are that proud that you will put that country above American, then go the hell back. Otherwise, you are an American like the rest of us! Period! Knock that other crap off!

When people, including myself, stop doing stupid stuff or acting life fools that we all are, I will lay off. If I label someone, sorry, that’s my opinion and if it makes my joke or statement funnier or more effective, then I will say it.  If you don’t like it, then don’t finish reading it, skip over it, forget about it, don’t read anything else I have to say, write or post.

But for crying out loud, stop arguing and posting ugly messages. You can post your opinions and comments all you want, but so can I. If you disagree with my humor, so be it, but you don’t have to be ugly about it. Personally, I think your politically correct ass should lighten up a bit and start laughing at just how stupid the world we live in has become.

With that said, in view of the events over the past few weeks, I will not apologize for any thing I have said about the protest and rioting (again) in our streets. If you are out there talking and acting like fools, I’m going to make fun of your dumb ass, white, black or brown. When this crap stops I’m sure I will find more than enough subjects to piss people off.

In the mean time, did you hear about the woman who walked into a bar carrying a duck?  Bartender says, “You can’t bring that pig in here.”  The woman gets all provoked and says, “Sir, this is a duck, not a pig.”  Bartender says, “I was talking to the duck!”

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Melt Down, Code Red!

Living with an internal nuclear furnace in melt down, code red status has its problems to say the least. Luckily over the past few years the heat has cooled off just a bit.  I can now sleep with a quilt over me in the winter as long as the window is still open a bit and the ceiling fan is still on. Yes, this was the case when we were still living in Montana.  Window stayed open until snow was flying or it temperature was hovering in the teens.  My poor husband would freeze when he came to bed.

I would be burning up like I had Scarlet Fever when he would slip into bed and put his ice-cube feet on me.  It was pure heaven.  He was getting warm and his freezing feet and legs cooled me off.  It’s true opposites attract!

The problem came about when he started working nights and we sleep on different schedules.  Not so much for me as I have the sliding glass door open and the ceiling fan on while I sleep comfortably under a light weight quilt. Thank goodness my two dogs have long coats or they would be cold. The cool desert night air flowing over me, what more could a menopausal woman ask for?  However, my poor husband has lost his furnace.

He comes home in the mornings, jumping into bed alone.  Even the dogs bail on him since breakfast will soon be served.  I looked on-line to find an electric blanket that my friends all rave about.  I just couldn’t imagine having hot sheets to slide between at night.  That would only kick-start the furnace into high gear quicker.

I did find this amazing item, Cozy Toes!  It’s a small electric mattress pad that just fits across the bottom of the bed. There is a god and he loves me!  Even if it’s my husband’s day off and we end up in bed together, he can still have his warm feet.  I’m short and sleep on my side, my feet will never feel the heated pad.  My husband can have it set on roast.

This morning when he slipped into bed, I had already gotten up, was in the shower but had turned the foot warmer on.  When I walked back into the bedroom, my husband was all cozy warm, including his feet. Best present ever he said.

Silly me, I didn’t know they even made such things. But then I guess I never looked, since I was his foot warmer.  If this internal furnace of mine ever decided to go off, I know my feet will stay warm too.

Just One Freaking Day!

What everyone has failed to address over the past few weeks is the fact that if there was no crime, police wouldn’t have a damn thing to do!  No not passing go, and no going to jail. No arrest, no being treated badly, nothing to protest or complain about.  Gee, there’s a concept!  No crime!

What saddens me the most is that Americans find no fault with comments like, “He wasn’t robbing anyone, he just took a few cigars.”  Or, “He wasn’t breaking the law, he was just selling cigarettes with no license.”

In stead of honoring law breakers, why don’t we demand a day, just one freaking day, 24 short hours, where no one and I mean absolutely no one commits a crime.  Any kind of crime!  “Crime Out!”  It would be impossible because we have lived too long thinking some crimes are OK.  Stealing a few cigars or selling items without a license, No big deal, after all who are they hurting?

Well ask the store owner in Ferguson if he was hurt.  You really think the guy selling single cigarettes with no license is NOT going to sell to your twelve-year-old child? He’s not checking IDs.  What kind of nice guy steals things out of the local store? What kind of father has 31 arrests and sells things illegally?

Imagine all the police departments nation wide, having no calls on crime for 24 hours.  No calls, no complaints, no arrests, no problems.  I bet you can’t even imagine a day like that. I’m sure police can’t.

We have become so accustom to lawlessness that the thought of a whole day without crime is beyond our imaginations. Even for those of us that live in nice neighborhoods or work in fairly crime free areas.  We still have to drive to and from places with people speeding or driving recklessly, which yes is another crime.  We are sharing the roads with drivers that have been drinking.  Oh but you say, he only had a couple of beers.  When does it become against the law, when he kills someone behind the wheel after drinking?

It seems to me we are living in a society where people think your actions are only a crime if you get caught.

Someone, please tell me when a simple act which is against the laws of your community becomes a crime?  If you can’t answer that, then you are a part of the problem honest, law abiding people face.

 

 

If Only

Yesterday I was waiting on my mother in-law at the doctor’s office.  The room was full with people quietly waiting, reading or watching TV.  I pulled my book out of my purse and starting reading.  Very stealthy, I made sure the cover was available for everyone to gaze upon.  After all, no one knew I was K. D. Bloodworth.

I opened the book to about midway and started reading.  It took about ten minutes for the woman next to me to comment.

Woman: “That’s a scary cover on your book.”

Me: “I know, that’s what got me interested. That and the title.”

She read the title and started laughing.

Woman: “Mr Perfect, huh?  Is there really such a thing?”

Me: “It’s about an internet dating site and an older woman who get’s involved. It starts out as a joke or dare.  It’s not ending well.”

Woman: “What does the cover say?”

I close the book and hold it where she can see and read the whole cover.  I noticed the lady across from us looking interested, so I turn the book so she can see it too.

Second Woman: “Wow, that looks good. A mystery, right?”

Me: “Yes, it’s been a real page turner. I haven’t been able to put it down. I started it this morning and I’m already halfway through.”

Second Woman: “K. D. Bloodworth? I never heard of her.”

Woman: “Me either and I read a lot.”

Me: “She’s a new independent author I found on Amazon. I started reading independent authors a while back and have found some really good books out there.”

Woman: “What do you mean Independent Author?”

So I explained what I was talking about and soon there were three other ladies and one man gathered around.  Looking at my book, reading the back cover and flipping through the pagers.  I was in fear someone would recognize me from the photo on the back but I was sitting there wearing my glasses and my hair is now short.  No one took notice.

Soon I was explaining how you could buy the book on Amazon even if you didn’t own a Kindle and that it was also in paperback, like the one they were looking at.  By the time my mother in-law returned to the waiting room, everyone in the room had handled my book and some even took notes on where to look and how to buy it.

My real excitement came that evening when I noticed my sales report and hundreds of people had purchased my book!

I couldn’t believe my eyes when I looked at the clock and it was only 3 a.m.  I really needed to get back to sleep.  I had a busy day ahead of me taking my mother in-law to the doctors.  I was wondering if dreams could come true?

Crazy People on the Internet, Trust Me!

This caught my eye yesterday after my explanation of my sorry ability to promote myself and my work.  P.T. Barnum couldn’t have said it any better.

Call it nagging, being pushy, bragging, blowing your own horn, pride, or any other of the many adjectives that might come to mind, if ya don’t do it, nothing is going to happen.

Ya have to get it into your brain that one ‘like’ is better than any rejection or negative comment.  It just takes that one special positive comment to the right person and hundreds if not thousands of people are reading your work.  That might take a year, two years or maybe even never.  There are worse things in life than not having people read your books.  Ya don’t have to think very hard to come up with a long list of those things either.

So snap out of it! Get your tail in gear and get to promoting that book, or my book or any book.  I don’t have a problem telling someone about the great book I just read.  I’ll even tell strangers about a book I’m reading.  But for some reason, here we go again, when it has my name all over the cover, I feel self-conscious telling someone what a good read I have in my hands.

Well, no more.  From now on,  the person reading and telling about the book is a different person than K. D. Bloodworth the author.  K. D. Bloodworth is just someone who’s book I am reading and it’s a good one.  In fact I’m having a hard time putting the thing down.

If anyone asks me if I know this K. D Bloodworth, I’m going to answer, yes and leave it at that.  It won’t be a complete lie.  After all, I do feel like K. D is my evil twin. I have no idea where she comes up with the stuff she writes about. It gets scary sometimes.

With that said, have your read MrPerfect.com.  It’s available on Amazon, eBook and paperback. It grabbed me from the beginning and I couldn’t put it down.  The scary part is that it could actually happen. There are some crazy people out there on the internet.  How do you know if you meet a real nut case or not?  It’s hard to tell until you are in deep trouble.  You should really read this book and tell others to read it too, specially single ladies.

You belong to a ladies book club? This is one to read for your meeting.  Trust me on this. You’ll like this book.