Post Test

I’ve always been a great test taker. Give me an essay to write or a multiple choice question and I’ll probably ace that old test.

Yesterday I took a different kind of test—an assessment to measure my memory. It started out simple enough, and I’m proud to say that I could correctly identify a variety of common zoo animals. I also drew the clock as directed, but now I’m wondering if I mixed up the hour and minute hands. I was a little bit anxious, so it might’ve happened.

After a couple more questions, the doctor gave me a list of five words that I was to remember until she asked for them again. That one did not go well. I think when all was said and done I recalled three of the words on my own, and one with a hint. And for the record, my words were harder than Trump’s. 😂

I did well on repeating sentences word for word, as well as repeating a string of numbers. My favorite part of the test was getting to slap my knee every time I heard the letter “a” when a long string of letters was spoken. I felt a bit like a kindergartner. Slap, slap, slap,

There were a few physical assessments—pushing, pulling, walking across the floor heel-to-toe. I had trouble with the last one. My size eight feet didn’t like that task. If I’d been barefoot I could’ve done it.

At the end of the assessment the doctor asked a great many questions about my daily life and the incidents that had prompted me to schedule an appointment. Was I depressed? Did I get enough sleep? What meds do I take? Etc.

They’ve scheduled some bloodwork, an MRI, and an EEG to rule out any other issues, but I think overall I did okay on the tests I took yesterday. But who am I to say? If there’s was problem, I likely wouldn’t realize it. And that’s a bit scary.

Thanks to everyone who sent me good vibes!

Peace, people!

The Test

I have a test scheduled this morning. In fact, I’m here, thirty minutes early because I was afraid I’d get lost in the maze of hospital corridors. In some places, one must go down to go up, or maybe that’s only due to a screw up on my part.

My fingernails could use a trim. And some polish. That’s what I think as I sit waiting to be called back. They’re going to think I’m a doddering old lady. Maybe I won’t need the test to confirm it.

It’s a test of my memory, you see. Lately I’ve done a few things that have made me wonder. Made me nervous, in fact. So I scheduled a test with a neurologist.

And I haven’t known how to study for it. I thought of googling the Pythagorean theorem or the number of degrees in a triangle, but I doubt those questions will appear on this test. More’s the pity. I think I remember those well enough, even without google.

Peace, people.

Pinch Me

I published this piece less than a year ago when my first book, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort hit 500 reviews. Just recently, the book hit 1,000 reviews and now it’s at something like 1,040.

My husband, Studly Doright, reminded me of the angst I’d suffered wondering if it would ever get to 50 reviews. I do. Felt like it took forever, but those first fifty were really special. And I have many of my blog followers to thank for supporting me, for taking me to 50 and beyond.

Five Hundred?! About a week ago I realized that Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort was nearing five hundred reviews on Amazon, and I …

Pinch Me

Sock it to Me

My memory is going. I don’t have any measurable proof, at least not yet, but it’s something I fear. I’ve heard of people who’ve forgotten about stuff that happened ten minutes ago, yet can recall obscure knowledge they’d gained decades in their past.

Case in point: socks. I was sitting on the edge of my bed yesterday morning putting on my socks when the word “calcetines” popped into my head. Huh. Socks in Spanish. Where’d that come from?

But ask me what I had for dinner two hours ago. I can tell you one thing— it wasn’t calcetines.

Peace, people.

A Thousand!

My first novel, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, just gained its one thousandth review on Amazon. Even better, the book has managed to maintain a 4.5 rating.

It’s not a perfect book. I often tell people that I wrote it with my training wheels on. But I’ve been fortunate to find readers who’ve embraced my baby, warts and all.

I’m still learning. There are now four books in the Happy Valley series with another in the works. With each book I’ve learned something new, gotten better at the craft, but there’s still much to learn.

I appreciate everyone who’s come along on the journey—even those few reviewers who’ve been less than impressed have contributed to my growth and helped make each book better than the one before.

Tomorrow, Valentines Day, 2023, Mayhem will be featured as an Amazon Daily Deal for a mere $1.99 on Kindle. So, if you haven’t yet read it, it might be the perfect time. And if you do, I’d love your feedback.

Peace, people!

Eavesdropping for Fun and Profit

I have a tendency to eavesdrop. And then out myself by doing something stupid like letting people know I was listening in.

Earlier in the week I overheard a trio talking about the book clubs they belong to. They were sitting behind me at the coffee shop and even as I tried to talk myself out of giving them my card, I turned around and gave them my card, saying, “I’m so sorry for eavesdropping, but I’m an author and here are my books. Just in case, you know.”

They were so gracious, but I kept babbling, apologizing, and I’m certain my cards might’ve been used for kindling later that day.

Then this morning I was in a different coffee shop listening to the cutest college-aged couple play a game. One of their answers was so off base that I burst out laughing, Come on, cereal is NOT a soup, am I right?

I apologized, and they asked if I’d be a referee when they couldn’t agree on an answer. And that is a first for me. Maybe eavesdropping has finally paid off.

Peace, people!

Congressional Fashion

I’m not a fan of Kristen Sinema—the Democratic Senator from Arizona who skews more to the right than the left. She’s a DINO—Democrat In Name Only, like West Virginia’s Joe Manchin.

On Tuesday night, Sinema wore a bright yellow dress to the State of the Union address. It’s a dress I wouldn’t have worn, but she did and has been attacked by Democratic pundits for her choice.

That infuriates me.

Men in her position basically have two choices: a blue suit or a black suit and a tie that says “I’m in charge or send more money.” Whereas for women there awaits a minefield. Too colorful? You’re an attention whore. Too bland? You’re outdated, boring.

Attack Sinema all day long for abandoning her constituents in favor of accepting money from conservative special interest groups, but ignore what she’s wearing, That shouldn’t matter at all.

Peace, people.

Close Call in Alexandria

As I embarked on my journey to Hemphill, Texas, I had this brilliant idea: I was going to take copies of my first novel, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, and place them in Little Free Libraries as I neared my destination. Since the series is set in that part of the country I could picture readers being excited to find a book about a fictional campground on Lake Toledo Bend.

So, when I drove through Alexandria, Louisiana, near the Texas state line, I googled the nearest Little Free Library and headed to that address.

The route took me away from the interstate and into a neighborhood that grew less and less savory with every turn.

I told myself I wouldn’t get out of the car if I didn’t trust my surroundings. Sure enough, when I found the right place, the little library was sitting well back on the property—near the front door, and it didn’t appear to have any books inside at all. So I pulled over to the curb and reset my GPS. When I looked up, there were three law enforcement vehicles there with me. 😳

My heart kind of stuttered for a moment, but they didn’t have their lights on, and no one approached my car, so I kind of waved and drove away. As I headed down the interstate I kept glancing in my rear view mirror wondering when they were going to come after me.

I wonder if they’d have accepted a book or two in exchange for a ticket? Guess we’ll never know.

Peace, people!

Angst

I wonder if I’m too old or too dumb to understand all the stuff I need to know to get my author website up and running. The website is there, it’s just missing important stuff and even after a thorough and wonderful tutorial from one of the smartest guys I know, I feel like I’m trying to put together a 500 piece puzzle in which more than half the pieces are missing.

Things I need:

1) A Reader Magnet—that’s a free story offered to folks who sign up for my newsletter.

2) An Automated Onboarding Process—these are the emails that are generated automatically when someone signs up to receive my newsletter.

3) A Newsletter—exclusive information about my books delivered at regular intervals to those subscribing.

Now, I can write that darned newsletter, but I’m struggling with the reader magnet and the onboarding process. The reader magnet needs to be a peek inside my stories. Maybe a tale told from the perspective of a character other than my main protagonist. Or maybe a prequel to the whole series, say, perhaps a look back at my characters during their teenaged years. I’m told it can even be an outtake—a scene I cut from the published book. I’m wrestling with this mightily, y’all.

And once I have it written, then what? Do I save it as a word document? Do I publish it and make it available for free to my subscribers? Do I send up smoke signals? At this point, option three sounds simplest, and I’d need to learn how to make smoke signals.

But that’s nothing compared to my angst over the automated onboarding. I took copious notes during a tutorial session. I’ve watched multiple YouTube videos. And yet, I’ve still got next to nothing. I am clueless; hear me sob. I think I need to hire someone to come sit beside me as I learn how to complete the task.

In the meantime, I’m going to continue working on that reader magnet. Maybe Paula and Cassie as cave people? Circus performers? Heh. Maybe not. But just in case you’re wondering who Paula and Cassie are, check out my Happy Valley series on Amazon.

Peace, people.

Swiss Cheese

I woke up at 3 a.m. I’d say it was exactly 3 a.m., but Studly Doright’s clock runs fast, so it was likely only 2:57. At any rate, it was early.

Of course I’d gone to bed around seven last night because I hadn’t been able to sleep at all the night before. Do I lead an exciting life or what?

My brain and I have been having some intense discussions lately. The old girl just isn’t as sharp as she used to be. I always dreamed of being one of those elderly women that people would describe as being sharp as a tack. Instead, I fear they’ll compare my mental capacity to a slice of Swiss cheese or worse, a dull knife.

And as they carry me away to the memory care center, I’ll protest that I once was able to memorize Shakespearean soliloquies with the greatest of ease. And they’ll ask, “Did you say Swiss cheese?”

Peace, people.

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