My Peaceful Place

I have a peaceful place, a moment in time, a flash in my brain and a photo that hangs in my kitchen, where I escape any time I wish. A simple glance brings calm to my being. A quick look brings fond memories to mind and a smile on my face. To be honest I have many of those photos scattered around my home. How very fortunate I am.

My camera and I have shared a lot of things through the viewfinder over the last fifty years. I have spent many hours looking back on those photos from time to time. One can only imagine the heartbreak when once of my older photo albums was lost during a move. For years I felt as if I had lost years of my life, not just some old photos in an album.

My mother was always going to sort and organize all of the photos in her possession but she passed away before she achieved that goal. I decided I would add my photos to the collection and organize all of them for my daughter. Here I am fifteen years later and I’m not any closer to the end of the project than I was when I started. I have also added fifteen more years of photos to the stack or to the thumb drive.

My dilemma: when I get started on the sorting, I’m sidetracked with images and fond memories. One image reminds me of another I haven’t seen in a while. I ditch the chore at hand and search for one certain photo. Until I become wealthy and can afford to hire a house keeper and a cook, it looks like this photo project might be passed down to my daughter. Since she has my photo taking gene, she have an even larger collection from her travels all over the world.

My mother would say, I have so much to do, I don’t know where to start. I thought when I retired I would have hours and hours to do the things I wanted to do. The joke is on me. I didn’t realize how many enjoyable things I had pushed aside during my working years until I picked them back up or started something new.

Take a deep breath, relax my shoulders, finish this blog, grab another cup of coffee and peek at my peaceful place on my way through the kitchen, and get busy. My goodness, it’s almost seven in the morning and I haven’t done anything on my to do list.

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.

Just Like That, Quick As A Wink

The last three months have been a struggle. Excuses by the dozens, responsibilities with family (which I do not think are excuses), brain freeze, writers block, insecurity, and the list goes on and on. What I’m trying to say, I was having a very hard time continuing with the third book. I blogged, I twittered, I was on Facebook what seemed for most off the day, just putting words on the computer screen trying to spark some interest in the sequel.

I wrote a few chapters here and there but they just wasn’t going in the right direction. I tried to outline my thoughts of where the characters should be going. That didn’t work. I rewrote several things. Reread what I had already written. Nothing was working. Self doubt crept into my veins. I still believe in my second novel. MrPerfect.com is after all still received good reviews and the sales are picking up. Still the thought that I might not have another book inside of me was consuming my brain every time I sat down at the computer. Even the encouragement from my husband and friends, wasn’t lighting the flame.

Saturday night I turned off my Kindle, took off my glasses and fluffed my pillow, preparing for a good nights sleep. I was just about to doze off when all of a sudden that little person that speaks to me from inside my brain said, “The time line is off.”

I suppose most authors would have jumped up, ran to the desk and started working. In case you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m certainly not like most authors, good or bad. No, I laid there in the dark, picking the story apart, finding the problems and calculating how to fix the timing of the events. Finally I fell asleep.

Yesterday, after I took care of my emails, Facebook and Twitter accounts, I printed out the chapters regarding the problem areas. With fresh coffee, the printed pages and a red ink pen, I took to the patio with my two dogs. With dogs at me feet and humming birds buzzing around, I lit the flame!

Several hours later I was at my computer deleting and writing. With new energy the words flew onto the computer screen. The time line repaired, a new direction for the villain and his deeds, which will influence how the story is told, but not the story which I have had in my head all along.

Just like that, quick as a wink, a thought in my head late one Saturday night, fixed everything that has been tearing at me for months. Does this happen to all authors? I don’t know. Has this happened to be before? Now that I think about it, yes it has. I think this time I was so worried about not writing, the worry strangled my creative thoughts.

I woke up this morning eager to get back to the story where I left off last night. For this writer, that’s what it’s all about. The “joy” of putting thoughts into words that other people wish to read.

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

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.

Special Birthday

Turning sixty-five was not in my vocabulary for the first sixty years of my life. I never even gave a thought to living this long. Unlike my dearly loved mother, who saved every penny for a rainy day, I took after my father. He wanted to live life, travel, see things others have not seen before and gave no thought of growing old. One time my mother asked me if I ever saved for a rainy day. I replied I like to play in the rain, besides there is never enough money to pay for all the rainy days in your life.

In 2003 I started writing. It took me ten years to finish my first book. Even as I clicked on the publish button, I thought to myself, there’s too much sex, but the shades of gray books were making a big splash, so I published. I think everyday I should do a re-write, skipping all the sexy parts to young girls could read about going nowhere fast. An even more disturbing thought in this day and age. Thank goodness I lived through those crazy sixties and seventies.

When I started writing MrPerfect.com the words flew onto the computer screen. I’m not even sure how long it took me to write the story but I felt it was a good read. I tried not to second guess myself and keep re-writing chapters. I just felt that even though the story was fiction it was a story that could actually happen in our time of computers and on-line dating. I picked one of my favorite places in Montana for the scene of the crime.

As a special birthday celebration, I am offering MrPerfect.com for $0.99 for the month of March, available on Amazon. See the reviews! I’m not the only one that thinks this is a good story! Get your hiking boots on!

How Much Worse Can It Get?

I woke as the sun was coming up. I was relieved to know I had lived through the night and Jake was still sleeping near my feet. I wasn’t so happy that my shoulder hurt even worse than it had the night before. Jake felt me stirring and he, too, stood and stretched. I pulled my filthy shirt and jacket from my shoulder and looked at my bite wound. I still could not see the bite very well, but the redness had grown even larger. More serious, my arm and neck were swollen and there were large red streaks running down my arm. “Oh crap, Jake! It’s not only infected, it looks like I have a good start on blood poisoning. Great, just great!” Jake cocked his head, looking at me like he might understand.

“Jake, we are going to go until we can’t go any further. Since I’m all infected, maybe a bear will turn their nose up at me. You might, however, look like a nice snack. Keep an eye out, buddy. How about some berries and water before we go?”

I tried to fold the sleeping bag and tent one handed. Packing them away into the backpack was even harder. I pulled out some berries and some water. Both tasted wonderful, but the berries didn’t stay with me very long. Before I could finish, my gut let me know it wasn’t happy. Now I was suffering from a bad case of diarrhea. Was this the berries, something in the water, or the infection? Jake seemed alright. I guess it didn’t matter what was causing my problem, surviving was the real task at hand.

I tried to slide into the straps of the backpack as easily as I could. All was good until the strap hit the infected area. I dropped the pack and went to my knees. “Guess I’ll carry this like a sling on my good arm, huh, Jake? Let’s get going.”

We weren’t making very good time. I knew I was burning up with fever, my arm ached, my neck was getting sore, and it burned with pain. I reeked to high heaven and my whole body hurt. The only thing to do, I kept telling myself, was to keep drinking and keep walking. Jake must have known the situation I was in as he never ran off. He would stop when I stopped. He was even a gentleman, turning his head when I had to suddenly drop my jeans. When I had to stop and rest, he would stop and sit beside me.

Read more, MrPerfect.com available on Amazon: http://amzn.com/B00OQJENJK

Why Save the DNA?

It’s always the coldest just before dawn, so goes the saying and this morning found me shaking from the cold. I tried to curl into a ball, holding what heat I had left in my core, but it was useless. I finally threw the tent from the top of me and unzipped the sleeping bag. I could see my breath as I let the air escape from my mouth. “I need heat.” As I stepped over to the smoldering left over campfire, I picked up a few small sticks and laid them on top of the coals. I gently blew on the embers. “Ah ha, flames!” Quickly, I grabbed what few larger branches I had gathered the evening before and placed them on the smaller pile of sticks. Within minutes, the heat was rising. I stood as close as possible, while I rubbed my hands together to generate more heat. The warmth felt good enough that I forgot how empty my stomach was and the growling noises it was making. I pulled the backpack up and sat on top of it next to the fire. I would wait there until the sun came up, when I could start my trek across the loose rocks and then down to the stream. As I set there soaking up the heat, I realized my body was healing. I could actually sit and rise without too much pain this morning. Once I was good and warm, I ventured near where I had slept and relieved myself. It was then I realized just how stinky I was and how badly I needed a bath. “Stay smart. Even if you don’t make it out of here alive, if anyone finds your body there will still be DNA. Don’t you dare wash yourself! Silly girl, where in the hell are you going to wash? I would freeze to death in one of these mountain run off streams.” I picked up the tent, folded it, rolled it up, and stuffed it into the pack. That gave me even more cushion as I sat back down. I had a little while more to enjoy my fire before it was light enough to make my way safely. I wondered where Michael and Jake had spent the night. No doubt, probably not far from me. I was trying to ready myself for when he showed himself again. “Good morning. Rest well?” Michael was just a few feet to my left. Although it startled me, I didn’t allow myself to jump up or even turn my head in his direction. “Good morning. Yes I did, as a matter of fact. And you?” “Jake and I had an entertaining evening. Wish you would have joined us.” I didn’t look, but I knew he had that smirk of a smile on his face. “You knew where I was; you could have joined me.” I eased my hand down over my pocket to feel my little pocket knife. It gave me a little sense of safety, although I knew I had no chance in a knife fight. I just wasn’t skilled enough in defense with a knife. I stood and grabbed my pack, swinging it up onto my shoulders. The bite was hurting even more than it was yesterday and I wondered how much of my shoulder was infected. I didn’t need that on top of everything else, but the pain let me know it was indeed there. “Going somewhere? Do you even know what direction you need to be heading?” He was now laughing. “Any place you are not is a good place. How about we just part as friends?” I didn’t even stop to kick dirt and rocks on what was left of the fire. If the wind picked up and sparks caught the forest on fire, so be it. Maybe fire fighters would come to fight the blaze and someone would find me or my body. I was about twenty feet from the fire, about half way out onto the rock slide, carefully watching each step. I could feel his eyes on my back. Just past what I thought was the halfway mark, I reached a flat rock. I was surrounded by the rocks from the slide. I stopped and turned to see Michael about four feet away. Jake was nowhere in sight. I turned to step off the rock when Michael grabbed my right arm. “Hey, let’s say we kiss and make up?”

Mind Games in the Wilderness

I turned with such speed, I almost fell over. I felt fear stab me in the middle of my stomach. “Did you come back to finish me off? Bet you are surprised to see me still alive!” Without looking at him directly in the eye, I turned back around and started walking toward the edge of the clearing.

“Naw. I’ve been watching you all along. Did you like my handy work with the rocks?”

“I didn’t pay any attention. What rocks?” I didn’t look, but I could tell he was gaining on me. I tried to step up my pace, but again I found myself in loose rocks. About that time Jake went flying past me, tail wagging, having a grand time. He never looked back. He was out of sight in a few seconds. “Well, Jake is having a great time.”

“You aren’t?” Michael was right behind me.

I stopped and turned around, looking him square in the eyes. “What kind of game are you playing with me, Michael? You enjoy watching people trying to find their way? What kind of sick bastard are you, anyway?”

“Well, if you feel that way, maybe I should just leave you to yourself. Find your own way back!”

“I thought you left me out here to do that, anyway. If that’s not the case, then just take me back to town. I need to get home.”

“Why? I thought you liked it out here in the middle of nowhere.” Michael reached for me, but I jerked away, out of his reach. Only this time I did lose my balance and stumbled backward. I slid down the side of the ridge a few feet on my butt, my pack protecting my back. I was grabbing for anything I could grab to stop my fall. I could feel my fingernails breaking and tearing. Finally, I stopped up against a large bolder about half my size. I had scrapes and scratches all over my hands and arms. I just laid there for a few minutes trying to catch my breath.

I finally looked around and saw that I was alone again. No sign of Michael or Jake. I slowed my breathing so that I could hear better. Again, there was just the sound of the wind in the pines and the creek below me. I looked up toward the top of the ridge and, to my surprise, I had covered more area than I thought. I was a good twenty feet from where I had been standing. I finally got my feet under me and stood. “That was graceful! What else can you do for entertainment?” Looking over the top of the bolder, I couldn’t see the bottom of the gulch. I decided I needed to keep moving parallel to the top of the ridge while looking for a better way to the bottom.

I had no way of knowing how long I had been hiking as the tall pines were blocking out most of the sun. I thought I was moving northeast, but being honest with myself I really had no clue. I kept trying to make as much noise as I could, talking and singing so I wouldn’t surprise any bears. “No bear in its right mind would be walking around here.” I laughed to myself.

I found a little clearing and decided to stop and take a rest. I had water, but was really wishing I had something to eat. “Don’t think about food. It will only make you hungrier.” I took several small drinks, trying to conserve what water I did have. Before I knew what was happening, I felt tears running down my cheeks. “Crap! Don’t start crying! What good will that do?” But the tears came. I felt broken. Defeated. I was in no man’s land, not knowing where in the hell I was or where I was going. As far as I knew, the man I thought was a decent guy was some kind of lunatic. I rubbed my checks with my dirty hands and wiped my nose on my jacket sleeve. I was a mess. I rubbed my hand through my nasty chopped up hair. Anger flooded through me.

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.

New Reviews! Oh My!

 Yep, that’s pretty much the look I get when I realize I have new reviews for my book. Afraid to look, afraid not to look! I check out how many stars first! Five stars are a read as fast as I can! Four stars, is a good thing too. Anything below a four star I have to build up some confidence, after all, I have been told all reviews are helpful!

Don’t take a bad review personal I was once told. Someone just stabbed you in the heart and you’re not supposed to take it personal. It took a few not so good reviews of my first book to teach myself that no matter how good the writing not everyone is going to like what you wrote.

So today I see that I had two new reviews for MrPerfect.com.  Checking the stars and then reading them great reviews, I’m on cloud nine today. I want to shout the news from the roof top! Tweet and Facebook everyone! How can I let complete strangers know people are actually liking my book?

I had promised this week I would lay off on the promoting and get back to writing my third book which is the sequel to MrPerfect.com.  So I’m not so good at keeping promises to myself. Here it is Tuesday and I’m still promoting, still trying to get people to just look at my web page, take a peek at Amazon, read the reviews and see that the damn book has been on sale the past few days.  The price has gone up a dollar today and for the next couple of days but after reading the new reviews I can honestly say this book is worth every penny anyone spends, sale or not.

I’m done with the shocked faces when I see a new review. Dammit, I really did write a good book!  http://amzn.com/B00OQJENJK  See for yourself!

The End Is Near!

Not the end of the world, but that maybe close too. Today I’m talking about the end of the $.99 sale for MrPerfect.com.  The end of the world is a whole other subject.

Indie authors will understand this post probably better than most. As I have said in the past, self promoting makes beggars out of the best of us. I have given my newest book away, I have gifted my book, I have dropped the price to $.99 and I’m still on this damn computer begging people to give this book a try. The only thing worse than begging people to read your book is trying to get a review out of them. Readers have no problems with sending me an email or posting something on Facebook but write a review on Amazon; I might as well be asking for a million dollars.

I made a decision yesterday, after months or maybe it has been years of promoting, I’m now devoting my time to write. I’m about half way through the second story regarding Mr. Perfect’s offspring. I was shooting for a March release but that’s not going to happen. Now I’m looking at early summer.

I had an author tell me, the best way to promote your last book is to publish another one. Well, I’m taking their word for it and as soon as this Amazon promotion sale is over, I’m limiting myself to six tweets a day for promotions. Those of you that are jumping up and down with job, knock it off! If some big publishing company would notice me and publish my book I wouldn’t be doing all this begging. I mean promoting.

In the mean time, you have about nine hours left to pick up MrPerfect.com for $.99 before the price goes up to $1.99.

http://amzn.com/B00OQJENJK

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!

Telling A Good Story

My first attempt of writing was a story based on things that happened to me in the sixties and early seventies. After explaining way too many times that the story was fiction and I really didn’t do all the things in Going Nowhere Fast, I now find myself explaining again that the events in MrPerfect.com did not really happen to me. Maybe I should just leave well enough alone. Let people think I really did all the things my imagination dreams up, really happened.

I like to think that authors that write about science fiction are not asked if their plots actually happened to them. However, I would bet there are some people out there that just might believe the stories as fact.

I realize it’s a sign of a good story-teller when the readers think the fictional events actually happened. To set the facts straight, I don’t think I have ever known a serial killer but I have often wondered about some folks. Back in the day when my friends and I were looking for Mr Perfect in the bars, there were plenty of guys that gave us the creeps. Who would know these days if one of them had turned out to be a madman? In today’s world of cyber space dating, how do you know with whom you are actually talking?

What happens when that romance a woman is looking for turns all wrong? What happens when that tender kiss of a new romance turns into terror? I thought I had captured those feelings in this book and according to my readers, I did just that.

I have thought all along that MrPerfect.com was a good read and I had done a good job with the story. After reading my reviews and emails again this morning, I think I have finally got it through my thick head, I really did it. This is a good story. It does capture the feelings of a love lost, a love found and all the terror of escaping death.

I suppose I have stated all of this before but a phone call from a friend of mine that is presently reading MrPerfect.com caused me to look at the reviews and emails I have received in the past few months.  Look for yourself and see what you think.

http://amzn.com/B00OQJENJK

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.

Sex For Everybody!

I once had an eighty-five year old woman friend tell me that some nights she surely missed having sex with her husband. He had been dead for over twenty years. Yes, it’s true all you younger readers out there! Your parents and other older and even elderly people have or would like to have sex. That part of us, I believe, partly never dies, specially after talking with my older friend.  I was about twenty-five at the time and remember thinking I didn’t want to think about that at all!

My how the years have changed my way of thinking. That being the main reason I decided that the heroine in MrPerfect.com wouldn’t be a young, shapely, beautiful, alluring, sex kitten. Why in my mind she had stretch marks and scars. Crows feet and greying hair.  Although she was older, she was healthy and could mostly keep up with the mountain hike but I wanted it real and made her have to stop and rest.

I wanted women over forty to enjoy my story and not be wishing they were still twenty. Women over forty should only have to remember back a few days ago to their last romantic interlude with their lover. Over sixty, maybe a week ago! If you are reading this and are of those ages, I’m willing to bet you agree with me. Age has nothing to do with desire. Age may hinder performance but the desire is still there. I’m a firm believer that if you are over fifty you should probably stay off that trapeze in the bedroom.

Next time you are reading a hot, sexy romance, remember the person writing the scene may be your grandma’s age.  After all, it takes years of experience to perfect anything.

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!

 

 

 

 

Hanging On

Wishing all my blog readers and my twitter followers a good year. So many things wrong in our world,  some days it’s hard to remember all the abundant good things in our life. I’m suppose I’m one of the lucky people in the world that feels that just waking up every morning is a good thing. No matter what life brings my way, good, bad or indifferent, I’m still happy to be alive.

I have had my share of bad and ugly things in my life, more than some, way less than others. What I have learned that letting go of the bad and ugly and holding on to the good and beautiful is the secret to a happy life.

I have been homeless and I have lived in a big house. I have had way too much to eat and I have been hungry. I have been healthy and I have faced cancer in the face. I have lost loved ones and I have shared the lives with many others. I have been flat broke and I have been flush.  I have found new friends, kept old friends and have lost friends along the way.  I have been surrounded by many and left alone. I have lost beloved pets and have loved new furry members of the family.  The thing is, it’s all good. The bad and ugly are only remembered to make me realize just how great the good and beautiful really are.

I’m not saying I don’t get sad, or have bad days, when I wonder why this is happening to me or to someone I love. I’m saying I don’t allow those times to rule me and my life.  This is coming from someone who once suffered with depression. Depressed days are some of the bad and ugly. The other days outnumber them by the hundreds. I plan on keeping it that way.

May the good and beautiful things in life outnumber the bad and ugly in 2015.

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.

Holding Hands and Smooches

Do you ever get just a little tired of the characters in novels? The women are always perfect. Tall, slender, wonderful round full breast, full enticing lips, big round eyes, long full hair and it goes on and on.  So goes it with the men in the stories.  I have never read of a hero in a novel of having a little beer belly or love handles, just six packs from hell and arms that put all gym rats to shame.

Most of the characters are in their twenties and have the wisdom of most fifty year olds. I don’t know about you, but for the most part, when I was in my twenties I was as dumb as a box of rocks, with no real life experiences. I was pretty much out having fun and working so I could have that fun on the weekends.  My friends that were in college were learning a bit I suppose but that’s who I partied with, just saying.

Then there are the novels where the hero has reached his thirties or forties but he’s still with that perfect twenty-three year old woman.  Damn novels are just like the movies. If you are a woman and over forty or fifty, you are left out.

Young authors, I have to tell you something you might not understand, but people over forty and fifty still have sex. In fact, us healthy seniors still have sex and have probably forgotten more than you now know.  I understand that most people to not want to see or read about a sixty-five year old having sex, but at least let us hold hands and smooch once in a while.  Writing a love scene with older characters is like making love with the lights out. Think about it!

When I wrote MrPerfect.com, I had thought about making Dawn a younger woman but decided against it. After all, people are accustomed to silly twenty year old girls being  damsels in distress.  Just because women are past menopause or creeping up on it, doesn’t mean they don’t want to feel sexy.  I know, how would a young author even understand that concept? If you can’t figure it out, go talk to your mom or grandmother.

 

 

 

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!

Last Chance

Today is your last chance to be in the sequel to MrPerfect.com.  You (not using your real name) or a character you would like me to write about.  All you need to do is drop me an email at kdbloodworth1@gmail.com.  Give me a name and a brief bio of the person you would like me to put into the book.  If I pick your character, you will receive a copy of the book.

Donny is waiting to meet you.  His first kill was self-defense, he kept telling himself.  The second one was really an accident, but who would believe him?

Who’s path will your character cross? Donny or Dawn’s?

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.