Why I am an Author.

     When I was a kid, and by kid, I mean when I was under the age of readability, I was a storyteller. I told whoppers! I don't really remember the stories, but I knew who told me their start and who helped me with the middle and end when I needed. It was my dog, Rover. Yes, I really did have a dog named Rover. I didn't name him that; he was named by my sister Andie. Rover was a little younger than me, but wise; so much wiser than I was. He knew things; told me things, and I was to tell my mom. That was his game all along. He wanted something, so he'd tell me, and I was his patsy.

     I decided at a very young age that I would write Rover's stories and try to give him credit, but he wouldn't have it. He insisted that the stories I was telling were my own.  It took me a while to understand, but I assumed correctly that my dog was actually an operative for the Central Intelligence Agency, and he simply didn't want to be outed. He didn't mind if his stories and tales were told by another; it wasn't about fame for him. He wanted the intel out among those who needed to know. 

    Rover, a mixed-breed Beagle and Dachshund type, convinced me that I should be an author, not a writer. He told me that writers write, but authors auth - and they are loved and admired for their craft. A writer, he said, would be employed by someone, whereas an author would be self-motivated, self-employed, and free. He told me, of course, that authors put the free in freelance, and I absolutely trusted his knowledge on that particular piece of brilliance. 

    Doctors, Rover told me, have too many duties; they are expected by too many to do too much, and though yes, it paid well to become one, it wasn't worth it. Take the whole wearing clean underwear thing, for instance. Doctors, I was told, are responsible for checking and seeing if a patient is, in fact, wearing clean underwear when they come into the office. There was a box on the form that had to be checked one way or the other; I did not want to do that. I refused, in fact. 

    I told the dog, my dog, I told my dog Rover, that I would hire nurses to do that job! They could tell me, or just check the appropriate box, but I didn't want to check myself. You can bet, however, that I always wore clean underwear if I ever went to the doctor's office. My mother had a lot to do with that chore, I'm sure, but nevertheless, the fact remains that I wore a clean pair every time, and my boxes are all checked if you go back and check the records from the early 1960s. Done!

    Rover passed in 1978, at the beginning of the year. He was just over 15 years of age. Wise to the end, that one. I was just a teen when he decided he could no longer stay with me, but he was precious enough to tell me that when I grew up, as he knew I would, he knew I would write. He told me that my imagination had grown considerably since the days he first began to train me. He told me that when I would fall asleep each night, he would read my journals, and he could tell that my skills and talents had improved. He made me feel worthy and wanted, even appreciated.

    So, when I finally did grow up and decided to go to college, I did not take any medical training courses; not for me. I was into English Literature, Creative Writing, anything dealing with words, not instruments or math; math was nothing but a four-letter word in my life! There may or may not be those who could have benefited from me becoming a physician, but I can't help that. I believe my chosen profession has its merit! I am an author, and though I do other things to make money to pay my bills, it is the authing that I prefer to do. 

    Thank you, Rover. I will see you when I get there.

Photo Credit: Pinterest.com...this isn't Rover, but he looked a great deal like that.

The Battery Challenge

     I drive a several-year-old Nissan, and I like it. I won't sell it because, after six years, it has only 49,000+ miles on it. That's a little over 8,000 a year, and to be honest with you, about 12,000 of those miles were done in three months that my son drove the car.  I go to the store and back. I take the occasional drive to the countryside. I don't drive very often. When my friend and I went to El Reno, a city just outside of OKC (20 miles), we had to drive home in a torrential rainfest. The entire way home was scary...and I mean, SCARY.

    My little car, I call him Stephen, was such a trouper. He just really did me proud, and with God's grace, we managed to get home. The rain and floods did their thing, and Stephen was forced to get his underbelly reattached or tightened; and I had to change out the filters and get a new battery - but thank God, we were OK. The car sat up pretty high, but the water was insistent, and it was persistent too. I thought we'd end up flooding it or doing whatever happens to cars that drive through water -- but it didn't happen.

    Today, I went to Sam's Club to pick up the new battery that AAA was going to install for me, but they informed me that Sam's Club had the same battery for about $100 less. As a member, I receive the installation free of charge, and they dispose of the old one without extra cost; however, they didn't have the battery I needed.  They had a "like" battery, but not the same. The reason they didn't have the same is that around 2023, the manufacturer stopped making my battery -- of course, they did. So, why didn't someone else just make the same one and call it something else?

    Oh no, I found myself at Sam's Club with a 20-year-old mechanic who knew as much as I did, but at my age, I have the ability to (a) ask for help and (b) Google it. I did something that he would never have thought of: I called AAA and asked the mechanic there to tell me what size battery I should get, even if it meant not going to AAA. The man told me, and he was glad to do it. The mechanic at AAA is about 10 years younger than me. He's no baby - the kid I was dealing with was stuck to his phone, sure, but he wasn't researching, he was texting someone.

    I found the store manager because there wasn't a department manager. I asked for help because the kid was up to his eyebrows trying to figure out what he should do. I told the manager what AAA said, and together we found the replacement battery. It was higher in CCA or Cold Crank Amps, but according to Google and the AAA mechanic, that was OK. The kid was concerned that the battery would fall out because it wasn't mounted on all sides - neither was the other one, and it lasted 6 years.  What should have taken 10 minutes took nearly 90 minutes, and I wasn't happy.

    I tipped the kid $10, and he stared at me. Why would I do that? Because I told him I was tipping him for trying, for listening, and for being available. I told him it's not easy being an adult; it means putting the phone down to do your job. It means researching instead of watching videos during downtime. He sort of smiled, but I knew he heard me. He may not do it, but he heard me.

    When I was walking away, a man came up to me and said, "You have more patience than me. I wanted to kick him to the curb, and he hadn't even gotten to my car's issue yet." I asked him if he remembered being twenty years old. He said Yeah, he was in a war. Good answer. I guess we all have to start somewhere. It never helps to get too upset. It works out when we work together, but yeah, kids need to put their phones down and focus on their work. Gone are the days when a boss can demand that sort of behavior. I would never hire someone who isn't as motivated as I am. Unless they were willing to learn as much as I am willing to teach.

Photo Credit: Duracell.com

My Divided Mind (About to be Undivided)

     When I decided to use July to review my old books and identify mistakes, I didn't really feel the urge to do so. I thought it was a great idea, but yeah, I didn't want to actually do it. If they have mistakes, they have mistakes. People will simply have to forgive me. I did go through them a few times and correct them before they were uploaded, but since I've already sold as many as I have, and most of the people who comment about it say it endears me to them, I'm not going to go back through the books to make one or twelve corrections. It is what it is.

    I have actually found grammatical and spelling errors in other professionally edited books, including one I wrote and paid for editing. That one has a few too many mistakes, and if I were going to go through one, I would start with it! I should have asked for my money back, but again, the editor was likely a trainee being used for the purpose. So, yeah, we all make mistakes, and we can just as well forgive others for theirs as they can forgive me for mine. 

    That's not what this blog is about, though - nope, but it is a lead-up to it. I've just published my 11th novel, the 6th installment of the Nick Posh thriller series. The book "Cask" is now available on Amazon, and the EPUB and Kindle editions are being set up. It will take about 3 weeks to complete. If you're into reading like I am, the Kindle is the way to go. Why spend $18.99 for a print when you can get the Kindle for $4.99? Crazy!

    OK, so there I am, thinking of writing another novel, a romance and/or drama book that takes place in 1278 and goes to about 1298 - just before the turn of the century. It's a book about challenges, changes, identity, failure, success, and has more adventure than I've ever personally experienced. It will be fun to write, but I don't feel like writing it at the moment. I thought I did. I thought I would pop out "Cask" and then sit down and write a book I titled "Silent Bay", right up until the moment I decided I didn't really want to be uber-gory. I can handle suspense and darkness, but gore is something I'll leave to others.

    Well, since I wasn't going to write "Silent Bay", I had "Legacy" in mind, the 13th century book - but alas, I have changed my mind yet again -- and I have Nick Posh to blame. He sticks around inside my head most times, and he talks to me. He explains the things he wants to do, and he has to get my attention, so I'll end up writing out what he's telling me. You see, some of the voices in my head wear fedoras and some swing from ship masts, clinging to their lives in violent storms. I see them doing all sorts of things - but Nick keeps me grounded. 

    Nick Posh is the star of the noir novels I write about the American detective, a half-Native American detective who also happens to be half-Scottish. He's a fascinating character, and since he's gained real estate in my brain, he's more or less deciding what gets written next. He interrupted me at least 10 times while I wrote out the outline for "Legacy" this weekend. He flat wouldn't have it. The more I think about him, the more I realize that he would be a really cool friend if he were real. 

    So, it is what it is -- I'm writing the 7th novel in the Nick Posh thriller series.  I'm starting it this weekend, and it is titled "Amicus Curiae."   Amicus Curiae is Latin for "Friend of the Court", which Nick Posh finds himself to be strictly by accident. Still, he can't simply walk away from his civic duty; he has to tell the truth, even if it means losing out on a good assignment while his family is abroad under Eoghan's watchful eye. He'll end up staying home and driving back and forth to El Reno, Oklahoma, from the city to assist in the investigation and to testify on behalf of an unlikely suspect in a very uncomfortable situation.

    Because the 7th installment of the Posh books will put my novel count at an even dozen, it's noteworthy to mention that 7 of the 12 are Posh books, while only 5 are novels with other genres, including romance and drama. It's OK, I'm OK with it. I may end up writing more Posh books and less romance, more Posh books and less drama, but I know, because the man is living rent-free in my head, that I'll be writing many more Posh books.  I did remind him that  I have other options, but he smiled and you know - I was done.

This isn't Nick, but he does resemble this. Nick smokes Chesterfields, maybe a cigar, but who knows, maybe he'll switch to a pipe.  Photo Credit: Pinterest.com 

Blessings in Disguise. (God is really good at it)

     A week ago right now, my bestie and I were in Yukon, Oklahoma (a strong contender for where I may end up moving. I love El Reno, but Yukon has its good points. ). We were bottom-of-the-car deep into a river of flowing overflow from the flash flood that just happened out of nowhere!  If you know Jeannie, you know I was the one driving and dropping her off as close as I could to the building we took refuge in, so her hair didn't get wet.  Me? I won't melt. I parked the car on a hill and walked into the grocery store. By the time I got there, maybe 30 seconds of walking tops, I looked as if I jumped into the pool with all of my clothes and my shoes.

    So, the next day or maybe the day after, I started my car and drove it to Sam's Club. As I pulled out of the driveway, I could hear a definite rattling, and that's never good, right? I knew what it was; it had to be the oil plate, or something like that. It was something dangling from having fought its way through a massive flood. At least the darn thing started! At least I could drive it! (If you know me, you know I hate hate hate noises coming from my car - I also hate smells coming from my car!) 

    Today, (since I don't drive much and didn't need to do it earlier than today) I went to AAA and had them change my oil and the air filter, and I let them know there was a significant dangling noise as well-- they understand when people say things like that. They changed the oil, laughing at me because it had only been 1019 miles since I did it last time (which was October, and this is July), and they admitted that while the air filter did need to be changed, it could have gone another month or so. I had it changed and asked about the battery.

    The battery, as it turns out, is FLOODED, and they told me I will need to get a new one sooner than I will need to have the oil changed again. I'll do it next week, but dang -- that was something I wasn't expecting. The blessing is that the AAA guy told me I could wait a minute, I didn't have to do it right away, and he told me that Sam's Club batteries are 25-30% cheaper; he knew I was a member, we've seen each other in the store. (I was an English teacher when he was in high school, so he remembered me. 

    There you go - oil and air filter change, $90.  I'll hit up Sam's Club in a week for the battery for around $140 + labor; it was $284 at AAA. I love it when people are honest with you and help you out. He didn't have to tell me, but I told him I would get a battery on Amazon for much less - that's when he said I could do well by going to Sam's, as they get the same Duracell I could pick up on Amazon, and they charge $10 more than the Amazon price. They take the old battery, of course, to dispose of it correctly.  Good job!

    I started my little Stephen (car) and we drove to Michael's, where I picked up really cool Autumn candles and took photos of their Halloween stuff for my son. Michaels, like Hobby Lobby, is a crafts store, so they have Halloween things in case you're thinking of being crafty -- or just want to get a jump on the whole thing -- I love, and I do mean LOVE, Autumn. It's only 8 weeks away, and I can't wait! I bought 4 scented candles and I'm cranking up the cappuccino machine in my head, and busting out the pumpkin latte creamer! Yes, I am.

Photo Credit: Me...at Michael's. 

The New Bed.

     About a hundred years ago, I bought a really cool bed, but then I had to move back to Oklahoma City from Indianapolis, and I had to leave it behind. I wasn't happy about it, but I did it because it wouldn't fit in my car.  I had convinced myself that a Victorian-style wooden bed with a huge headboard was the only way to go. I was mistaken then, and yet, that didn't deter me when I went off and bought another one when I arrived back home. Some people never learn.

    Last year, in fact, exactly a year ago tomorrow, Laura and I moved from our two-bedroom apartment, which we had rented for nine years, to the newly remodeled three-bedroom house we have now. It was an amazing move, and it taught me many valuable lessons about myself. The first thing I learned was that I really, and I do mean REALLY, hate to move.  I injured myself last year, not only because I overdid it, but also because I skipped a step by accident and either popped my hip out of place, or just jammed it. I'm not sure.

    I learned that hoarding is relative. It's not defined really, but I know I had far too much crap and I got rid of most of it. I tried to streamline, and it wasn't easy, but I think I did a pretty good job with the furniture. I threw out my big overstuffed chair, my couch, one of my tables, end tables, a couple of nightstands, 3 lamps, and yes, the Victorian queen-sized bed. I still managed to bring too much to the new place, and soon, I'll have my friend come over and coach me as to what I don't need. She's really good at that.

    I bought another bed for Laura and took her full-sized platform bed. It had corners, and I didn't think it would be a big deal until my legs ended up scraped and bruised over the next ten months! I couldn't walk past the bed without it reaching for me, knocking me down, throwing me over the side of it, and making sure my bruises were bruised and my scrapes were scraped! It was a terrible bed!  When Laura said she wanted to get something different, I jumped at the chance! I gave her back her old, nasty, mean bed and bought another one; not the mattresses, but just the frames.

    Well, the new frame came in, and wouldn't you know it, I didn't pay the least bit of attention to the dimensions because I was too worried about it being rounded on all sides! It was...but it sits so low to the ground that my feet hit the ground when I sit up -- meaning I have to hoist myself out of it. Not good. I couldn't get risers for it because it's ROUND on the bottom too! No! I really should have paid more attention.

    I bought the thing at Sam's and thought maybe I could take it back (it's been about a month), and I could get something with straight legs but rounded sides. I could get something taller, and if I had to get risers, I could if the legs were square at the bottom! I found one. I called Sam's and they were more than happy to arrange for a pickup, and they'll even bring the box! I had thrown the old one away! Wow!! Yea Sam's Club!! I knew I liked them.

    So, on Tuesday, the new bed frame arrives (Amazon, and it's about $100 cheaper). I could use that box if it fits; we'll see. Sam's is coming on the same day, so depending on who arrives first, I may be able to use the box. Laura will disassemble the bed on Tuesday morning. I don't want to actually sleep on the floor, even though it feels like I am and have been for 30 nights. I will say this: the Chihuahua will not be pleased that he'll have to use the soft stairs again, but he'll get over it.

    This may be the end of it. You want to know why I went from a Queen to a Full? That's easy; I only use 18" of any bed - the dogs get the rest, so since Laura already had the full-sized frame, I just took it -- and now I have a really great full-sized mattress and topper, so yeah, it will stay that way. It's not like the dogs don't sleep on top of me and my 18" strip of mattress real estate anyway, because they do! 

The new bedframe.  Photo Credit: Amazon.com

YouTube Permanently Banned Me. (Well, OK)

     I'm not going to say I don't know what I did, because I do know exactly what I did to be permanently banned from YouTube, and they even removed my channel, which had a few wonderful videos of Faith and about 30 videos of Laura training horses. I'd say I'm beaten up and upset about it, but I'm not. I mean, sure, I'd love to have those videos, but she doesn't train anymore, and I have other copies of Faith's videos.

    The reason YouTube gave for permanently banning me was that I was spamming, which I was. However, the way I was doing it was one video at a time on their shorts, and I had seen multiple others do the same damn thing!  They're still there, I checked today. I was banned. You'll never convince me that it isn't politically motivated. It is, and they don't care. (You know what, neither do I)

    I have an alt account - I'll just use it. I won't spam again, no, I won't do that. What I was doing could be considered wrong, but hey, here's a thought: give me a warning! What I did was put a link to my website in the comments sections of many different videos. I've seen it done, and I thought yeah, that's a good way to get it out there - apparently it's not. OK, so warn me! If I gave a damn about YouTube, it would mean more.

    I will now use my alt account if I want to subscribe to a channel, and if I don't, I won't. The thing is, I was subscribed to over 200 channels and now I'm not. OK...will I cry tonight over it? Nope. If I can remember who I was subscribed to, I may join them on the alt, but then again, I may not. I can watch from the old account, but I can't comment, and I can't subscribe. I don't need to. 

    If YouTube thinks it can control people, they haven't met many people. We find ways around them. We have and we always will. I have several alternative accounts. Most people do. I'll not miss a single video or short because they want to flex their muscles -- I'll just not have people come to my personal channel, which I think the last time someone visited it was 2021; so yeah, I'm not heartbroken. I'll survive this and many other things.

    Oh, and I tried to do their whole appeal thing - but intentionally (in my opinion), they don't allow the appeal to go through. You can't reply to them, you can't email them. You have to use their appeal link, and yeah, it's not working. I wonder if it ever has. Bastards. I say that with all my heart, too. They deserve what they get - and if they think they'll stop any of us, they're dumber than a box of rocks. 

    I wonder if they'd do that to someone who voted the same as they did? I don't know, but I won't compromise my standards to meet theirs. They think they own that space - they don't. I'm still there...but the good news is, I can't be bothered. They took my name off -- no one will ever know when I'm on now, or what I'm viewing. Sucks to be big tech! We little guys have friends too, and they tell us how to get what we need.

BYE YOUTUBE!!!

 

PHOTO CREDIT: Wikipedia.com

Dick Tracy - Inspiration and Just Good Clean Fun.

     I've always loved the old Dick Tracy movies from the 40's, and today is a perfect day to binge on three or four of them. They give me great insight into my Posh books, and they're just too much fun. I love the terrible acting, even if you wouldn't know it because I'm over here screaming at the monitor and shaking my head when the damsel in distress is just a little too distressed to think. If you know me, you know I hate wimpy girls who stand around screaming instead of fighting their way through the dastardly situations they've found themselves in from time to time.

    Today, I'm just relaxing and trying to get over the hard times we went through yesterday. Some of the state saw 3 inches of rainfall in an hour or so - here, where I live, it was closer to 2 inches, but that's still a great deal of rain to hit all at once, and with all the cities being so far behind on improvements to water drainage systems, you can bet we were in highwaters by the time it was over. I've never seen it this bad.

    Laura started my car, and it started. I haven't tried to drive it yet. I'm giving it another day to dry out before I try to take it around the block a few times. I'm not driving more than half a mile from my house until I know it will work. I'm just not a fan of walking and/or being stranded. Call me crazy.  If you've never sat and watched one of the old black and white Dick Tracy films, I would suggest you do that.  You'll love the suspenseful music, the clothes, the hairstyles, and more. You'll love the bad acting and the vast differences between the acting from 1945 to 2025.

    The inspiration I find from these films for my Nick Posh thriller series is immense. I do get quite a bit of flair, color, and innuendo from them. I also like the things they say, the way they say it, and the way people react. Some of it is rubbish, I know, but some is true to the times and I like to write about it. I like to put Nick Posh in the passenger seat and let Dick Tracy fill him in on the latest murder case he's caught. Then, for fun, Dick rides along with Nick in some of his cases in my head and gives my favorite detective some advice. He's free to take it or leave it -- no hard feelings between the two fictional characters who are just trying to stop fake crime. What I like about both men is that they don't try to do all of the crime fighting on their own - they allow the local police to take a lot of the credit.

    I like to think of Paul Drake as being the nephew of Nick Posh and Dick Tracy both; he's learned from the men, and he's out there using the skills he's been taught. Nick has a lot of books to go, and when I can, I find inspiration in the best of places. I went to El Reno this weekend, and I found a wonderful place for a fictional murder!! I'm working on it now. It's going to be fun -- well, not the murder, but the writing of it. It's stewing in my head. I can't write it for a few more months, but it's getting pretty good.

    Do yourself a favor and call in a day you can take off and do nothing but sleep in, make a lazy breakfast, pour yourself a cup of coffee, and watch a Dick Tracy movie -- or four. Just watch and laugh. When you're finished doing that, I can guarantee you'll want to buy a fedora and walk around town in a double-breasted suit, smoking a cigarette and rubbing your knuckles.

1934 Chevy Cop Car

Photo Credit: Craig Meador's Posts

A Shocking Saturday.

     The day started out well, had a big bump in the middle of it, and then a really disastrous afternoon that could have ended up so much worse - I am so very grateful it ended the way it has. God is to be praised, I can say that. This blog will be different than most. It will be more inwardly reflective, and it will explain a little more about who I am, who most of us are, and why we do the things we do. There may not be a good excuse, but there could be reasons.

    My friend Jeannie and I drove out to El Reno, my new favorite place to go, and we literally parked the car and walked around the place.  I wasn't able to walk 700 steps two weeks ago, and today we put in over 2.5 miles! That's amazing. The difference, the vast difference, is that I have been going to a chiropractor, and he has been a tremendous asset, to say the least. Wow! What a significant change! 

    As we were about to leave the small town and return to our big city lives, I received a call from one of my coworkers, a man I spoke to almost daily, but it was on a weekend. He told me that another one of our co-workers, a woman I didn't like even in the least, had been killed in a terrible personal family home fire just a few hours beforehand. It's not something I would ever have wanted to hear. I didn't get along with her, but that's even a somewhat untruthful statement, because we never personally interacted; once maybe.

    During a Teams call, the only one she and I ever shared, she was rude, and I dismissed her. She then thought I was arrogant and dismissed me. We had a rather uncomfortable relationship at work because she was always trying to push the envelope to look better. Her behavior bled into our work, causing us to be unsettled and upset more often than necessary. Although we complained about her antics, nothing was done to address the issue. Well, she died today.

    She died in an incredibly sad way, and my heart is broken over it. We weren't friends, no, but I ache knowing she was a mother, a grandmother, a good friend, a daughter, a wife, and she had plans. She was a Christian, so that's what helped me understand the feelings I was experiencing. I can't say I'm sorry for what I said to her, any more than I would expect her to be sorry for what she said to me. We're two very different people, both stubborn, both know-it-alls, and we are probably a lot more alike than I'd like to admit.

    The fire was devastating; probably a propane gas explosion, but they haven't given too many details about it. She wasn't alone in the blaze; six were in the mobile home, and only three survived. Two firefighters were injured as well. Truly one of the saddest things, and I will absolutely keep her family in my prayers. When we're both in Heaven, we'll hug and neither of us will remember thinking what we thought about each other. We're simply just two women who do things differently; neither one wants to change, but it hurts her family to lose a good woman.

    After her passing, after being told of her passing, my friend and I drove around El Reno a bit more and took in the sights. We looked at houses in neighborhoods I would consider moving to, and we decided to check out two or three more stores before driving home. When we hit the highway, we found ourselves approaching what appeared to be a wall cloud - it didn't look too bad, but once we got into it, there was no way to get out of it. We were STUCK.

    The cloud turned out to be a supercell that dumped and I mean DUMPED hoards of water onto us, no hail, just flood-type rains falling hard and rapidly. I couldn't see to drive. I was going 16 miles per hour on I-40!  We found the first exit and creeped our way off the highway into bottom-of-the-car deep waters. We pulled into Crest Foods, and I let her out at the door. I found a spot to park, and by the time I got into the store, it looked as if I jumped into the deep end of a pool! I am not kidding.

    We waited it out, taking a chance that it was OK to continue our way home, another 17 miles or so, but it was not. We ran into some of the heaviest flooded streets I've ever experienced, and I live in Oklahoma! It was overcrowded, overflowing, and resembled rivers of water, not just a little water. We were forced to pull over three more times, but with more rain in the forecast, we decided to make the trek between the cells. It took us about an hour to drive 17 miles - and it was not UP HILL all the way, we kept asking Where are these hills our parents told us they walked?

    We finally got home - Thank you, Jesus! We finally made it home safely, but I do hear a weird noise coming from my car. I pulled into the garage, and I may not be able to pull back out of it. I don't know. I may end up buying a new car soon. This was by far the worst flood or water event (driving) I have ever experienced, and I don't want to do it again. I've got quite a good reputation for maneuvering through mud and wet sand, but water that comes up to the bottom of my door? (I don't drive a low-to-the-ground car!) It was unreal. I hope to never ever do that again -- if I hear it's going to sprinkle, I'll likely say nope, I'll wait.

    Well, here I am - thanking God again. He protects and He loves. I know that my co-worker's family is mourning, and they've literally lost everything they've ever owned in that fire. Please pray for them. I don't want to say their names. Just pray for T's family -- she's with Jesus, I know that. She and I didn't see eye to eye on most things, but we both loved a giving, living Savior. 

Photo Credit: Christianity.com

Silent Bay - May Remain Silent (for now)

     As I sit around waiting to write the next book, I go through a flood of thoughts, and most of them aren't as organized as I would like them to be concerning the new book. It is titled "Silent Bay" and takes place around the Boston area. It's more inland than Wharf, but it does have moments where the bay is seen, used, loved, appreciated, and admired. It's just that the storyline isn't gelling and it's not coming together like I thought it would, or like I hoped it would. It's sort of out there, and it's not interesting to me now.

    My thoughts about the killer, Zoe Harper, aren't that dedicated. I see her, I think I know her, but I don't think I want to push onto her character what I had planned to push. Instead of being a real misfit and silent serial killer, she seems more distant, almost pathetic and sad, like she truly wants to be helped, whereas the character I had in my head at first was nearly demon possessed; she didn't want to even think about resolution.

    The thing is, if the book doesn't write itself in my head while I'm planning it, I don't write it. I have the old Celtic Highland Romance book I've been thinking about writing, in the thick of my thoughts now, it could come through, but then I'd have to dig some of the old Highland romance novels out of my Kindle to get a little inspiration -- oh no; don't throw me into that particular briar patch. No... no... OK, I'll go.

    While Deanna Gainer, the M.E., was kidnapped by Harper and held against her will by threat of life and worse, now I'm opening the door of the shed they were in (in my head) and I'm letting her go home to her family. I'm even erasing the hurt and sting that Harper caused, as if she never really existed. It's really rather interesting the way my brain just decided it wouldn't happen; the book that never was. I mean, it could be,. But I don't think I want to. I think I like the idea of a 13th-century handsome man forging his way through the highlands and across the treacherous waters of the North Sea to find who he really is. 

    Yes, it's happening. He's walking through my skull now. You can't see him, but he's there-he's getting dressed; you'll need to give him a minute. Excuse me, I have somewhere to be at the moment. I'll be back. (smiles)

    OK, yeah, so there we are - you guessed it, Scotland. But, it's not just Scotland, there will be a boatload of action on the Emerald Isles as well; after all, the boy was born in Scotland and raised on the other side of the waves. He was kidnapped also, but at birth and not so that he would be killed, but so that he could be saved. It's a good story, but more importantly, it's a story I won't mind writing, and I won't mind reading, and I won't mind sharing. I just think the "Silent Bay" premise was a bit too "Criminal Minds" and I don't feel it -- I'm a lot more "Rockford Files" if you have to know the truth - Maybe Jim Rockford meets Dick Tracy and Perry Mason in a bar -- that's who I am.

    So, it's decided. The murderfest is out of the brain; therefore, it is out the door and not to be. In it's place, and starting Sunday (2 days from now) I will write "Legacy".  I think I'll be happier with the characters, the story, the plots, the twists, and most certainly with the kilts...I mean, the outcome of it, the words. Sure, that's what I meant. 

Legacy:  Niall Tavish (lead character) 

Photo Credit: Pinterest

 

Less Lizards.

     We are two lizards down. We had six, but now we're just dealing with four, and if I'm to believe the Craigslist ad for my Blue Tongue Skink, we're almost down to three! She's for sale, but I won't take less than what she's worth, or what I paid for her, so yeah, if she sells, she sells, but if not, we're stuck together. I'm OK with it, but I'm the one to blame, not the crazy lizards. I thought I would spend more time with them, and I don't. I do take one out and play with her, but that's it. Only one.

    I had four. I had a Bearded Dragon named Aodhan, whom I really had higher hopes for, but as time went by and he refused to be handled, it became apparent that he wasn't going to be the cuddly little guy I wanted. He's a boy, so he's a bit on the spicy side anyway, and then, he just would not comply with my wanting to love on him. He thought I was weird to want to try! I could look at him all day, he was OK with it, but when I attempted to reach for him, he began hissing and biting...NOPE. 

    When Laura used gloves to pick him up, he bit her; so yeah, barehanded would not have been fun. We took him to a rescue, and he was instantly taken home by a woman who literally bonded with him the first time they met. I wondered if she had a scent, or maybe we did, that he either loved or hated our dog- and cat-infested home. I'm not sure, but when she looked at him, he just melted. He almost stood up and reached for her -- I wanted to cry - both for her and because I must suck.

    Then, alas, we are Bob-less.  I loved Bob. I absolutely loved Bob, the Leopard Gecko...I cried when I thought Bob was dead. He hid so far up in a hole that I thought he crawled up there and got stuck. DAYS went by without Bob showing his face - and when he did, we grabbed him, threw that hide away so he couldn't go up inside it and get stuck, and then, he just sort of stopped being seen....at all....ever. He hides 99% of the time, then comes out sometime in the middle of the night to eat the crickets Laura left for him --- nope.

    I didn't feel right about owning an enclosure that could have had a sign reading "Exhibit Temporarily Closed" because that's what it felt like. He was NEVER seen. I'm not going to continue to love, feed, water, clean, and care for air -- someone who works nights took Bob. They are both nocturnal, and that's a good thing. He's living his best life now in a dark home, so, so, so very dark. His new guy's name is Thad, and you can't get better than Thad for a bestie. You can't.

    So, with only two lizards left for me, the Blue Tongue Skink, Cion, and my Schneider's Skink, Avalon, I'm OK with it. Avalon is not going anywhere. I can take her out, put her on top of my head, and type - I can work all day with her up there; she's a very patient and sweet lizard - the type all lizards could learn from. She's dedicated and devoted to me, and I just didn't have that with Bob or Aodhan...who am I kidding, Aodhan wanted to kill me, and Bob wouldn't miss me if he did. 

    Laura has two Beardies. They're both babies. They are Drexel and Starfire, very sweet, and she's making a very conscious effort to play with them three times a day so they'll be used to being picked up, sung to, and interacted with. They'll be walked on leashes when they get older, just around the house, but it'll be a fun experience. Four is a good number. We have four dogs too, and two cats, which is like having four if you know cats. They are twice as much trouble as any dog - I know I could be canceled for that statement, but it's true.

    Anyway, I now have more room in my office for things, and although I won't really fill up that space, it's nice to know I have it. Forty and sixty-gallon tanks take up space -- they do, and they're expensive, and they're just....well, if you have lizards, snakes, and/or other critters you know. I once had an iguana, and it had its own room - yes, it did. He hated me too after he got older - maybe it's me, but my dogs seem to like me, and my cat (Bilbo) tolerates me, so yeah... I'll look into that.

Aodhan - Photo Credit - ME.