Stratford is IN THE CAN!!

 My 16th book, "STRATFORD" (the 5th installment of the Nick Posh books), is written, formatted, and proofed (but will be proofed again), and it has been sent up to Ingram Spark to be printed.  It is the scariest thing to send a book up because I'm never sure if I checked all the boxes or if I did everything that has to be done. If not, I'll find out and set myself back several days because I didn't take the time to be sure all the little boxes were checked off!

    I'm over here breathing again because it's done. I don't have to wonder if I've left anything undone. I don't necessarily like the way I ended it, but I also didn't have space to do more. All the books I write are about the same size and work well for readers. They'd be a burden to carry around and conceal if they were thicker.  I stay around the 360-380 page range, and I usually choose the 5x8 size for print. I have one or two books that are 6x9, but I really don't like that size. I like the 5x8 so much more.

    As I've said before, I didn't plan on writing "Stratford." It came out of necessity and out of being upset about what the actual city of Stratford has personally put me through. I decided to change the name of the court clerk just in case she got a wild hair and sued me. Her real name is NOT Mary Pigley, but no one will have any difficulty figuring out who she is. She wasn't even there 17 years ago when I was stopped illegally by their cop and manhandled the way I was. He even threatened to tow my car and put me in jail for something I didn't do, which is his legacy of shame.

    Why the court clerk decided to be such a witch to me when I am 100% innocent of all allegations is beyond me, but perhaps she is jaded, or maybe...just maybe, she's on the take like the one in my book is...could it be? Hummmmmmmm...I wonder. Whatever it is, I have decided to keep the name Stratford because I have that lovely 1st Amendment Right to fall back on, but I did decide to be kind to the PIGLEY in the courthouse; the one by another name is very similar if you go and look.

    The book will be available online at Amazon and other outlets around the middle of January, and the EPUB or Kindle will be about 3 weeks later. I'll get my printed copy in 2 weeks and run through it again to see if I need to make changes. If I do, I will; if not, it goes on sale on January 22 for around $18.00 a book. The Kindle edition will be around $4.  I like the Kindle editions; I do. I think once I've read a book, I won't actually read it again - and it's not as easy for someone to share, either. 

    I'm actually glad this one is done. I wasn't all that motivated to finish it, and now I can start the new book - the creepy drama that takes place in a cemetery in Edinburgh. Woot!

    

Merry Christmas - And I Really Do Mean That.

     Something that I remember from the time I was growing up is that Santa Claus was real, and my dad was pretty close to him; they were good friends.  Santa relied on my dad to help him unload some of the presents he had in his sleigh, and then my dad would store them in his workshop. Since Santa's workshop was where a lot of things were actually made, and my dad was a trim carpenter (as well as Western Union's Regional Manager for Electronic Circuits), Daddy was often called up to the North Pole to fix things or just to make sure the elves were using the woodworking tools correctly. I know this because my dad told me so.

    Growing up in the 60s and 70s was a good time to experience life without all the electronic distractions we have today. At 10 or 11, I wanted a bike, not something that would cost $$$$ and force my parents to go into their savings to buy for me. I wanted simple things, and that may very well be because my parents told me the only things I could put on my Christmas wish list were, in fact, simple things. We never really put much of an emphasis on the price of a gift - it really was the thought that counted.

    After adulthood, things changed a lot for me. Grandparents passed, older aunts and uncles passed, and even a few of my cousins passed, and they were really close to my age. We stopped going the extra distance to visit folks, and after I had my own children, I basically stopped visiting the extended family altogether, just as they had stopped visiting me. Times change, people get busy, and there are other excuses. 

    Now, because I'm really super old, and I have had a few more experiences, I flat out CHOOSE not to visit those who have the same lineage as I have. There's not a single reason to do so; even some of my intimate family have made decisions and choices that I either disapprove of or disagree with. I have to now choose whether to put up with them for a while, in a sense "look the other way" for the sake of gathering, or I can do what I have chosen to do, and that's to let them know I love them - but I'm not compromising myself or my dignity for friend or foe; or in some cases, as I said, family.

    Nothing would make me happier than to think and believe that everyone and everything would somehow be mended and every difference between everyone would just simply disappear, but that's not the truth. I can't lie to myself, and I won't lie to anyone else about it. I may choose not to talk about it, but I will not pretend that all is right when it certainly is not.  The best thing I can do for the ones I love, and of course, for myself, is to let God have the situation - to lean NOT to my own understanding, but in all ways, let God handle the details. (He's welcome to the entire mess, actually.)

    Traditions are great; they really are, but they are not always feasible, and they are not always practical.  I'm not going to get dressed or drive an hour to have lunch with someone (or more than one) that I wouldn't bother to flip off on any other day. I'm not going to buy expensive gifts to fit in, and I'm not going to throw money out the door gifting someone who will likely either regift my gift (as has been the case) or just let it gather dust. One of my family members told me that a gift card would fit best in her stocking - but of course, only if it was maxed out to the limit of what it could hold. Nope.

    Joking about love, gifts, and the actual reason for our celebration of this particular holiday will not set well with me; it never has. If I don't eat a big fussy dinner on this day but prefer to heat up a day-old lasagna with some fresh garlic toast on the side, you can bet I'll be thankful for it. I'll wish Jesus a Happy Birthday, and I'll breathe so much better knowing I saved time, effort, money, and my heart from breaking over and over again. For my life, I can't stop hoping those people will be different the next time I see them; they never are.

    If I had one, my Christmas wish would be for peace - true and unbridled peace for every living person and being and for those who have passed. Just restful, uninterrupted peace. If that's what you find in your stocking, I pray you'll reach into your soul and thank the ONE who provided it for you. You need only to turn to the 2nd chapter of Luke to read all about it. There is a reason we say "Merry Christmas," and it is not to spend what we don't have or lie to the people we see. It's to remember, and always remember, that He is and will always be the true gift.  

    MERRY CHRISTMAS...and I really do mean that.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com

FRAUD ALERT -- (be SAFE)

 If my poor judgment can help even one person not make the same mistake(s) I made, I have no problem telling the world just how dumb I was for falling for something so stupid and probably super easy to figure out if I were using my brain.  I was taken 3x in the past 6 weeks online by would-be scammers, and it cost me very little because my bank is really super good at detecting with their AI when my purchasing history seems shakey to them.

    When I signed up to use Patreon a few years ago, I was taken for over $100 by a parasite, someone, or a company that hangs back and/or attaches their site to the one I was supporting. The artist I was following and supporting had zero idea it was happening, and to be honest, he thought (or still thinks) that I'm bananas because I can't support him through Patreon anymore.   I tried, but it happened a second time and then again with another Patreon "influencer." I was happy to help; both were in Scotland and were 100% unaware of the dastardly deeds of the parasite. The only solution was to give up my credit card number and get another card. Well, when it happens on that site more than twice, I'm not using that site anymore.

    It happened AGAIN, but this time, it was when I went to TEMU and WAYFAIR to buy items I thought were really cool. The problem is that Temu, Wayfair, and Shein apparently have third-party vendors who pay those sites to allow them to sell on their platforms. Walmart does as well; I found that out when I ordered a saddle, and a friend of mine bought her father's casket from Walmart's website. Anytime a third-party vendor is involved, they can take your card's numbers and try to gauge you later!

    In early December, I went to Temu, and they charged me for something I didn't buy and never sent it. I had to cut up the card (or, as the bank says, "capture" it) and get another card. This was the 2nd time in about a month. Then...today...it happened AGAIN!!  I am fed up with these people. I had NO IDEA that Wayfair was that way - but it is. I saw something on drastic sale, thought it was true, it wasn't, but because I bought it instead of them initiating the purchase or charge, my bank told me I would either have to capture the card again, or let it go - but lose the money I put in for the purchase.  I'm going to go to the bank tomorrow after we get off at noon and get a new card...again. UGH!

    I'm just glad the bank is willing to work with me. I know it's my money, so they have to, but still, it's a pain in the backside, and I hate putting them through it. They are super sweet, and they don't care, but I have to go back into everything I pay online and update the card numbers! It's so annoying!! I just did it 2 weeks ago! From now on, if I can't buy it at Amazon, I will not buy it. Amazon has never, not once EVER, taken my card numbers and used them against me. There were times in the past when I bought things that weren't delivered on time, but they were delivered. If I had a seller not sent something, they would have refunded my money quickly.

    EBay, Etsy...not anymore. I hate that. According to my banker, I was told that using CASH APP to pay for things is safer than PayPay, but I don't use PayPal anymore either. I've twice burned there as well. People just make me sick; they really do. I'm over here trying my hardest to work and earn and be honest, but unfortunately, not everyone is that way. I can't tell anyone else what to do, but I can tell them what happened to me. They don't want it happening to them, but that's cool -- I won't ever spend another dollar at Wayfair, Shein, Temu, eBay, Etsy, or anywhere that uses a third-party vendor to ship or sell their wares. Nope!

Photo Credit: LoansCanada.com 

Anticipation!! (I'm Waiting to Hear the Official Word)

     In 2006, my dog and I had just about been on every television talk show there was, including the Oprah Winfrey Show. We had been on Ricki Lake, Maury, Montel, and others you wouldn't know if you were American. I don't remember all their names; the one I do remember that stands out is Tesuwan Dash; it was a Japanese show. I can't remember exactly when it happened; we were in the middle of being filmed, booked for shows, speaking engagements, and more. Life was a blur for a while. The one thing I really needed -- and do mean NEEDED, was a booking agent.

    We found one sometime after Oprah and before some of the international shows. I can't remember exactly how we met, but I think he reached out to me and asked me if I had an agent. I knew I needed one, but the only people interested in working with us wanted to change Faith's story to make it seem out of this world outrageous, and they wanted me to say and do things that were absolutely out of the question. I may do many things that upset folks, but I don't compromise my ethics or integrity; I answer to God, not to man.

    Well, there he was...my agent. His name is Mike Maguire, and he had made himself a place in the world of being an agent by representing a great number of older baseball players, some football, some soccer, and some other types of athletes, all of which, (or most of which) had retired and he was able to get them gigs closer to home, where they could feel comfortable telling folks about their exciting careers; he had them going to cons and signings. He had them meeting fans and doing shows to promote whatever it was that they wanted to showcase, and he did a GREAT job.  

    When he took on Faith, he stepped way out of his wheelhouse, so to speak; it's not every day someone like Faith comes along. She wasn't retired; she was at the peak of her career. She wasn't athletic, but she was a crowd-pleaser. To say she was a great draw would be an understatement. The dog ruled! 

    Let's get honest about that. No matter where the room was, she was the center of attention, even if two people were just trying to get married!  (Mike and I got stiffed in King of Prussia when Faith decided to leave our side, run down the aisle of the event conference room where we were, and she made EVERYONE'S day, including the bride and groom who invited her to their nuptials and to their reception afterward.) When she heard applause, she believed it was for her!

    Well, Faith passed.  She did such an amazing thing for the world, but it came to an end. I went this way, Mike went that way. Time went by, over ten years actually, and now, well...I found him. I asked him to be my book agent, to structure the promotion of the books, and to get people interested in reading what I write. I'm sure he'll have quite a time wrangling the gigs, but we'll make it happen. I'm about to stop the writing of the other books and focus on writing the children's stories about Faith and her life. We'll see where it goes - I'm thinking to the Moon!

    Mike hasn't said yes yet, but I think he will. He was optimistic about it, and just as soon as the new year cruises into shape, we'll talk about the future. Something tells me he's gonna love the opportunity. I know I will. I believe in the man's powers of persuasion! He's an awesome asset, not to mention a really good friend. I'll give him time to think about it. It will mean moving things around, and then we'll have to make decisions about the new books as well as the ones I've already written.  The children's books will be about 60 pages long and illustrated, and they'll tell the life story of one of the most famous animals ever to walk on the planet- upright.

    Pray for us! We'll need that for sure. It's easy to talk about Faithy; tomorrow is her birthday. She would be 22...such a nut. I love her, and I will never stop loving her. Being with Mike again is like a dream come true -- he's really that good, and when he and Faith worked together, the world responded.  Thanking God now, and hoping to hear back with the official word -- very soon.

Photo Credit: Carol Guzy -- Mike Maguire and Faith the Dog.

One Week to Go! (The Book Will be Sent up for Publishing)

     I've done a few things today, and it's not quite bedtime.  I decided to take down my GoFundMe. It wasn't working; no one donated other than my very good friend Karen Treadwell. If you know why, you know why. Karen owes me her life, you know. She can't breathe without me! (I'm laughing...she's laughing) Anyway, there's only one donation in 24 days, so it's not going anywhere. The last thing I need is for people to know I'm a loser. I don't care if they think I am -- but seeing it in real time sucks, and I decided to end the misery of it all.

    I believe my books are worth it, so I'll have to find another way to promote them; I'll end up praying about it, and that's a better plan anyway. If God wants them to be successful, they will be. After all, Exodus 14:14 is still in the Book. It's not going anywhere anytime soon.  The verse reads: "God will fight for you; all you need to do is be still."  I love that.  Since God can't lie, it must be true.

    I finished writing "Stratford", too, and I'm going through it and fluffing it. I'm stuffing it, too. I'm putting it in order, formatting it, and aligning it. Tomorrow, I'll finish the fluff and start reading it to be sure I have it all lined up and that I've used enough adjectives. I find myself adding a few here and there to ensure I can come across as innovatively original and productively prolific as I imagine myself to be. It may or may not be true, but I like to think it is; let me dream.

    Like everyone else, I'm off on the 25th, but I have to return to work on the 26th and 27th. I'll try to get the book read on Christmas, but it may be the 28th or 29th before I send it up for publication. I won't have it available for purchase until I order one copy, which will take 2 weeks, so by January 15, I should have it re-read, re-corrected, and re-published so that it can be sold online around the 16th of January. That's the newest of timelines. We can hope I stick with it.

    This book wasn't even supposed to be written. I just threw it out there because I was so very angry at the people of Stratford; I needed to write it. It was quite therapeutic, believe me. I do feel better.  I really do feel a lot better!! I may only sell 10 books, but there are 9 people besides my mom who will know about the mishaps of that small town!  Mom already knows; I complained to her about Stratford years ago. 

    I decided to dedicate the book to the memory of a man I knew who lived in those times, and he actually knew the Governor I wrote about. He was a political newspaperman named Irvin Hurst. He and I wrote insurance policies for New York Life in the 90's. He was in his 90s when we worked together. He had his office on the same floor as I did, and we took breaks and lunches together. I learned so much from that man. He's waiting on me up in Heaven, and I can't wait to hug him again.

    Well, that's all for now; I have to get ready to snooze. I don't have to set my alarm tonight -- yea!! I love the weekends. 

    

Photo Credit: OKJournalismHallofFame.com

Irvin Hurst!  Doesn't he look like a newspaperman?

STRATFORD -- Is DONE! (For the first round)

     The way I write my books may not be the way others write their books, so I can't say this or that about them, but I can say that I am done with the crucial and critical first part of my book in that the 329 pages so far are written, and I have about 80,000 words squeezed out of my keyboard and into the file. Yea! It is done! 

    There are 31 chapters in this one. Most of my books have about the same amount of words, about the same number of chapters, and about the same number of pages. I did make "Of Kilted Pleasure" a 6x9 book, but the others are 5x8. I like that size better for reading. Then again, I prefer Kindle, so when I'm ready to get this one prepared for actual sales, I'll pay for the EPUB version as soon as I've made the final corrections.

    I've written the book. That's phase 1. Now, I have to go through it and add the stuffing and the fluffing, notes from when I was beginning the book, and things I jotted down during the writing that I want to add somewhere in the pages of the thing. I come up with a phrase, or a thought, a picture in my mind that could be advantageous.

    Right now, just a few minutes ago, I went through my list of words that friends and family members gave me so I could add those words to the book and then thank those people for giving them to me. It's a fun and good way to add them to my creative work. I like saying "Thank You" when I can.

    This book has several of my co-workers in it, too. They are mostly good people, but one decided to be a bad girl -- in the end, she assists the cops, so she's not entirely bad.  I think it's fun, too, to add people who want to be a part of your work and who will get a kick out of telling other people that they are in a book! Who wouldn't want to be a fun character in a fun book? C'mon.

    I am going through it this week to put all the pages in order, get the chapters even, and have the words "Chapter 1" and so forth in a different font and of a different size, just to give a little design to the interior. There are no photos, you know, it's just a novel. The only photo is the front and back cover and my photo on the back.  I have created the cover already and look forward to adding the book to my published achievements soon.

    Phase two is to go through it, line it up, size it up, format it, and get all the fluffing and stuffing done. I also go through it for mistakes, corrections, spelling issues, and trying to get my Scottish man's accent correct, as I tend to go back and forth with him. But at least in this book, he tells people that he's trying harder to use more American terminology so he doesn't stick out like a sore thumb. (We'll never see Eoghan MacRae turn too far from his original roots. No way, he's too adorable.)

    I'll send it up in phase three for publication with Ingram Spark, but it won't be for sale yet. I'll have them print me a copy so I can go through it and make corrections. After I've done that, Phase 4 is the final phase. I accept it, and it is made available for publication and purchase on Amazon.

    You can easily pick up one of my novels online, but there will still be issues. I can't find them all; I've really tried. I do take solace in knowing that I've found mistakes in the words of the greater authors than myself and in those who are just trying to get published for the first time. We all make mistakes. I hope to find the big mistakes, but it happened at least twice. After a solid year of being available to the public, I found huge errors in one of my books and had to pay to have it pulled and corrected. GEEZ!

    Well, that's the thick of it. I'm done. Stratford is written. I'll add the fluff this week, and by next weekend, I'll send it up for the print portion. I'll order a copy, get it by New Year's, read it, make corrections, and put it back up around the 10th of January. Woot!! By then, I'll have started the new new novel. I'm writing a creepy drama for the first time -- I'm trying to get myself outside of my own box. I won't do evil, but I will do creepy and disturbing. It will make people question if I'm really as genuinely likable as I know I am...Yes, I really am, but swimming among the cobras for a while will be fun since it's all fiction, and I can't really get bit by it.

    "The Grange" is an area in southern Edinburgh, Scotland, that has a great cemetery. My character lives in a family crypt, refusing to leave, and with the law on her side, she doesn't have to. I won't tell you more, but writing will be fun. It should be out around March 1, and then I'll head back to Poshville to write installment 6 of the Thriller series. The title is "Cask" and will also have a slight Poe flavoring. Come to think of it, my 7th Posh book is quite creepy, too -- wow.

    I may end up liking the new genre in my life.

Photo Credit:  Flickr.com  (Oklahoma 1933) 

So, I Nearly Died Today.

 So, yeah, I nearly cashed it all in today, and when that happens, and I survive, I feel the need to at least tell people who may actually read my blog because they will at least know that I care enough about them to think about them in these moments. I'll be really honest, I wasn't thinking about any of you when it was happening. I was too busy being really upset about my stupid body reacting the way it does.

    First, the wind up. I'll tell you what I do every day, and by every day, I mean I'm out there doing what I do, and if it gets done, it gets done. There are times when I think I do something when I actually haven't. OK, so I take supplements on what should be a daily basis. One of the ways I take them is by eyedropper -that is, the liquid supplements that I take. I take (or took) green tea extract this way.

    This morning, I took the same dosage as I typically do. Still, the extract decided on its own, and with intentional malice, to attack the back of my throat so violently that my esophagus closed up, and I was in the ravages of what some may call "dry drowning." I saw this on Quincy, so you know I know what I'm talking about. The good doctor warns people about singing in the shower, saying you should do it with your back to the water since the water can hit the back of your throat, and your throat then tries to protect your lungs by closing. This is what I think happened.

    My damn throat literally shut, but my body wasn't having it. I began hacking, not choking; there is a difference. I could not stop hacking, and it was deep drawings from my lungs to push the opening and to get whatever (felt like) liquid out of my throat, but this went on every 15-20 seconds for literally 30 full minutes. It slowed down after the 15th minute, and I only coughed every 30-40 seconds, but the cough's deepness was still causing me back pain.

    I sat on the couch, all the while assuring my daughter that I would be OK, though not really knowing if I was lying to her. Brave, brave soul that I am, I managed to stand up between coughs and go to the "important paper" box that we stored in the cabinet. I pulled out the insurance policies and set them on the cabinet next to the coffee machine so she could at least find them if she needed to. I'm so considerate! I am also the biggest dork on the planet, but at least I am cognitive. That really matters to me, too.

    The dogs were there, of course, laying beside me and licking my clothes and face and hands to let me know they wanted me to stay alive. They don't have opposable thumbs and can't pour their own dog food or get their own water. They do have Laura for that, so they're OK.  The cats looked at me as if I was a bother. I couldn't stop getting angry at my body for the way it was reacting. I was glad it was reacting, mind you, I knew what it was doing was trying to right what had gone so wrong, but you'd think after a few good coughs, it would all be alright. 

    Anyway, after all was said and done - and Laura was assured that she would not have to file for beneficiary benefits, I put the policies away and drank hot coffee until my stomach protested, asking me to switch to tea. Again, my body really needs to do what my head wants it to do; that's just me, but it's so annoying! I was praying during the time I was dying, asking God if this is really the way I should go out - it just seems so ridiculously common. He helped me. He always helps me. I love God.

    So, here I am, an hour later, still now and again clearing what seems to be lingering in the back of my throat, hoping I never have to go through that again. Like the dork that I am and embrace, I've thrown out the liquid supplements. I mean, I could put them in coffee or tea, but that may make them taste funny, and that, too, would annoy me. The things I do to remain unannoyed and/or uninconvenienced are amazing. 

    There you go—I'm still here, still writing. I hope to be so for a while, but if I'm not, and you see Laura's post stating that I've gone to see Jesus, I do hope you realize I am not coming back! Nope! If I cross that line, there is no return for me. I will grab onto whatever I can over on that side and refuse re-entry! I can't think of anything being better than being with my Lord -- so yeah, it's not that I mind dying, but the method of exit is a problem at times for me.  At least if I did die, I would go up in the rapture that much faster since the dead in Christ rise first!

Woot!

Stratford is Nearly Half Finished.

     When I reach Chapter 17, my favorite chapter in all of my books, I think I am about half finished with the book. It's time to start revving up and pouring on the thick of the book's plots, twists, and outcomes. I've got an idea of where I've been, where I've come from, and where I'm going, and I'm making my way through the hoops and the rocky stream to see how it all ends.

    Like most writers, I have the end in my head before I start the book, so the actual end was never in question. It's getting to the middle that takes most of my energy. The first eight to nine chapters of any book I write tend to drag on for me to write because they're just setting up the storyline or giving background information so that the readers are not caught off guard when the rollercoaster reaches the top of the track ready to make it's first big dig before swinging to the sides, and possibly riding through a pretzel of turns before landing smoothly; you just have to set it up first -- it's the same way with knocking over dominoes. No one likes to see the setup, but the setup is vastly and incredibly important.

    Today, I wrote three chapters; yesterday, I think I skipped out and didn't write, but on my birthday, I did. I'm at Chapter 17, and over the next two days, I'll likely sit out on the writing because I'm off for the Thanksgiving holiday from Wednesday through Sunday. That will be a good writing time. I've written Chapter 17 now and will be at Chapter 20 by the end of Wednesday (in three days) and at Chapter 22 or 23 by the end of the day on Thanksgiving. Friday will be a good writing day, so up through Chapters 24 and 25.  I can finish or get close to the end of the book by the weekend, but I don't need to. I'm not on any deadline. This is just me writing.

    The meatier it gets, the faster I write.  I take three full weeks to write the first few chapters and another two to get to where I am now; then, once it starts to spin, I can sit here and try to make my fingers keep up with my brain as it spews out the words to create the havoc and mayhem of the book until I reach a point that I can breathe and maybe eat something. It is not uncommon for me to go a day without eating if I'm pounding away at the keyboard. It happens.

    I think I'll finish the writing of the book by the first weekend in December, then take a week to read it, make corrections, fluff and stuff it, make more corrections, and then read it again to finalize it somewhere around December 8. It may be up for grabs around the ides of December, but if it takes 2 weeks to print and ship, I won't look for it to be in your hands before the first of the year. I'll have the EPUB or Kindle edition created at the time that I know there are no mistakes, so that's another week or two following the first print because after it's a printed book, I order one, go through it again, making even still more changes, and then when I know I've eliminated all I can, I re-release it, and ask Ingram Spark to publish it in EPUB form too; so think the end of January for that. (maybe in time for the inauguration.)

    Woot!!  Exciting times for Posh and MacRae now...they'd just found a dead body in the outhouse. No, I'm not kidding. It happened.

Photo Credit: Folkswaynotebook.com 

Coffee is Essential. ('nuff said)

     I woke up like I do most mornings and let the dogs out before showering. That's the way it is; that's the routine. I work best when my routine is not interrupted. After the shower, it's treat time. Dogs and cats both enjoy this time and once the furry faces are satisfied, it's my turn to treat myself to a hot cup of the best coffee on the planet. Again, it's routine; you don't mess with it. 

    I popped open the top of my three-month-old K-cup coffee maker, the one I bought literally three months ago, and I stuffed in the Caribou Breakfast Blend pod because that's how you start the best coffee on the planet -- but today, it was not to be.  There I was, waiting for the machine to gurgle a little, steam up the way it does, and then sort of poof out (a made-up term) the first few drips before completing its task. It has one job. I put the water in; it puts the water out. As it puts the hot water out, the hot water runs through the little K-cup through the funnel and into my cup. That's such a simple process...until it didn't happen.

    At first, I second-guessed myself; could I have forgotten to pour in the water? Is that why it's not spitting out the hot brown nectar of life? Whatever it was, it wasn't spitting anything, and I was standing there staring without the ability to move because that would have required a certain amount of concentration. I only concentrate after the first few sips, so you can understand my predicament. It was grave.

    I lifted the top of the thing, took out the K-cup, sort of shook it to see if it had water it in, and it did, so I dumped it out in the sink, thinking something was stuck, stopping it from making its way through to make the coffee...something had to be stuck, right? The water wasn't coming out. It may need to be cleaned with vinegar. I can do that. I have vinegar. That didn't work. Whatever it was INSIDE wasn't moving and it wasn't clearing, it wasn't getting me to the point that I could think clearly. 

    Plan B and Plan C are always buried in my head, so I searched my brain for whatever I could. I could make an Italian espresso with the little silver pot with the bottom that comes off, and you boil the water and pour it out...but I couldn't find the thing. Then I remembered I had donated it. Plan C works well when you can recall what it is, and after a few minutes, I remembered that the old drip coffee maker was in the garage and now, after three months, would be dirty. Still, a dirty cobwebbed pot was looking better all the time when I compared it to the possibility of having to get dressed and drive to 7-11 because I don't do Starbucks....my gosh, can you imagine? Lines, people, and then again, it's worth saying it again, I'd have to get my clothes on first.

    The cobwebs came off pretty easily, and there I was, cutting open the tops of the K-cups to make an old-fashioned drip-style coffee for myself. It happens, but I don't like it when it does. I threw out the cute cheap machine and took my new old-fashioned coffee with me to the couch to breathe a few deep breaths before hitting up Amazon for the replacement K-cup machine that I've told myself I can't live without. (even though I lived without one for about 6 years recently.)

    Looking over the choices, I let the spell of peer pressure do a number on me because my birthday was just yesterday. I bought a real brand name (Keurig) and told myself I was worth it. It wasn't that expensive. In fact, 15 years ago or so, when they first came out, it was twice as expensive as it is now. I'm good with that; life has a funny way of coming full circle occasionally. My new machine comes in tomorrow, and once again, I'll be normal, average, run-of-the-mill, and predictable. Routines are that important.

    Interestingly though, when I told my friends and my kids that the damn machine had quit after only three months of use, three out of four of them said something to the effect of at least it didn't go out on my birthday. It gave me one last push before it quit -- there's that, but after only about 100 uses, it should be mentioned that I won't ever recommend that brand to anyone. I thought about donating it to an engineering student to study to see if they could fix it, but no....in this disposable world, they would likely just chuck it, too. I saved them the bother.  Sigh.

    Once again, I find myself believing that some things are worth the money you put out for them. You do get what you pay for in most cases. A sad but truthful fact.

Photo Credit: Keurig.com  (This one is thinner than my first one, but it will also fit better in my kitchen.) 

Was That a Dog Barking?

     People can be so very very petty at times. I am never shocked or amazed by it; they are just so petty. If you think I'm wrong, please let me explain what happened today (on my birthday). I got a visit from the mailman, and as he handed me a letter, he said, "I bet I know what that is." I looked at the front of it to see who had sent it, and it was from the Oklahoma City Animal Welfare Department. He must see a few of these types of letters in his line of business, so I asked him what he thought it could be.  He said, "I bet it's the city saying someone complained about your dogs barking."

    First, (and when someone from the South starts a sentence off with "first," you know there's something big about to follow.) I have dogs; they go outside to have fun, do their business, and just chill.  As really good pet owners, such as we have always been and will always be, if our dogs bark for more than a minute, we open the back door to let them in -- or at least see what has caused them to bark insanely. A minute is a good long time when you stand there and count it out, so I can see why someone would be upset if I allowed it to happen for more than a full minute.

    The letter, the postman was correct, was, in fact, a warning from the city citing that someone had lodged a complaint against my dogs and, in doing so, put me at risk of having to pay a hefty fine for it.  The criteria for the citation states that they can bark for up to 10 minutes solid without there being a reason to complain. TEN MINUTES!  Or, they could be in violation if they barked "intermittently" and "excessively"  within a 30-minute period. They don't.  My dogs are out for more than 30 minutes at times, but they are not barking during that time unless a squirrel runs up the tree or a passerby walks past the fence, and even in these cases, it's literally for less than 1 minute because we hear them and step out onto the back porch to stop them. EVERY SINGLE TIME.

    When Laura and I go anywhere, we bring the dogs in. She takes Rose with us most of the time, and I'm aware of no law or ordinance against an animal barking inside the house. We couldn't figure it out, but then we did. We live in a rented house owned by the brother of the complex owner of the complex we lived in  for nine years. We were on the list to rent the house as soon as it became available, and you guessed it -- that upset someone (or two), and they've decided to report our dogs to see if we'll be nudged to leave the house. NOPE. No, we will not. They can pound dirt, kick rocks, or do whatever they think they need to do. We're staying right here.

    Now, the thing is, if my books sell well enough, I'll move to Scotland, but Laura will likely stay here. I get it, it's a great house, and they wanted it -- we were first on the list when it became available, and we accepted it. For someone (or two) to be so petty as to falsify records, make false reports, and to lie about us is just nonsense. We've decided to buy vibration collars for the dogs. They don't shock, they vibrate when they bark, so they'll stop doing it -- which in my opinion is cruel to say the least, but I'm also not going to rehome them or pay a big fat fine. I can prove we have remedied the situation, and when I find out exactly who did it, let's just say they'll get an eye full. I will write them a "You-Really-Need-Jesus" letter and hope they take me up on the offer. (It's a free offer, anyone can take it)

    If I were mean, nasty, and as pathetic as they are, you know I'd do something else, but I take Auntie Em's perspective on the whole thing...and I quote, "...now, being a Christian woman, I can't".  She was talking about telling Miss Almira Gulch what she really wanted to say about her!  I know the Holy Spirit likes to do that to me at times... I guess I have something like a vibration collar around my heart! Dang it. I guess I could accidently throw dog poop at them, but that's probably against another law.  I miss the 80s. I really do.

(((  UPDATE !! )) 

    The Oklahoma City Animal Control called me back. The officer was a young lady, and she was very kind. She said the warning was a verbal call-in, and they sent it to let me know of the potential for an issue. She said it was an anonymous caller, but I would know who they were if they wanted to file an actual complaint. She doubted very seriously that they would do that, mainly because there would be a hearing, and that person would have to prove the dog's excessive barking - which can't be done. I would also have their name, phone number, and address if they filed a formal complaint.

    I bought a vibration collar for Kiah just in case, and it will arrive tomorrow. I won't make her wear it if she is in any discomfort. It's there to train her to stop barking, not to punish her for being a dog.  The officer told me that these warnings are issued 99% of the time without anyone making a complaint. That made me feel good.  We're still making sure, of course, that the dogs behave themselves. We aren't bad pet owners, and our dogs aren't bad either - we just have the misfortune of having really petty, nasty, rude, and inconsiderate neighbors.

Photo Credit: Wikipedia.com