Heartwarming Tale

Okay, so this tale doesn’t have anything to do with a German shepherd rescuing a baby from a submerged vehicle or a grandmother getting a surprise call from her long estranged only grandson, but to this newly published author hearing “I dreamed I was having a conversation with your characters” is pretty special.

I’ve been having conversations with my characters, Paula and Cassie, in my dreams for months now, so it’s nice to know they’re populating the dreams of others.

Here’s a little snippet:

Paula turned off the radio mid-song. “Tell me the story of why Cal called me Goldilocks”

Cassie’s eyes twinkled. “You know darned good and well why.”

“I know. I just need to hear it today.”

Cassie shifted in her seat. “The fishing guys came up with it. Cal, Delbert, Mel, and someone else, I can’t remember who, went fishing right after you two got married. Cal couldn’t stop talking about you. Everything you did was just right. Finally, Delbert or Mel, one of the two, said, ‘Sounds like you found yourself a Goldilocks. Everything is always just right.’ Cal thought that was hilarious and started calling you that. The name stuck.”

Paula shook her head. “I still can’t imagine what it was he thought I was doing right.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “C’mon now Goldilocks, even you can’t be that innocent.”

A rosy blush covered Paula’s cheeks. “Oh my gosh! Surely Cal didn’t talk to the guys about—you know—sex!”

“Probably not, but then again, men will be men….”

What trouble will Paula and Cassie get into on their road trip? There’s only one way to find out.

If you’ve purchased my book, thank you!!! If you haven’t, what’s holding you back? Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort has gotten some terrific reviews on Amazon. A couple of them are even from people I don’t know….

Peace, people!

Mammogram? Yes, Ma’am

Today’s the day for my annual mammogram. Every now and then I’ll read some woman’s account of how painful a mammogram can be. I’ve heard that some women even refuse to have one because they’ve been told how excruciating the procedure is.

Well, I’m here to tell you that a mammogram caught my cancer at a very early stage. Following a lumpectomy I only had to have six weeks of radiation. I shudder to think what might have been the outcome had I not been a big believer in annual mammograms.

Do mammograms hurt? Not really. They’re a bit uncomfortable, but nothing compared to the pain following the double mastectomy one might have to endure if a cancerous growth goes undetected for too long. Just do it, friends. If nothing else, pretend you’re doing a photo shoot for Playboy. Yes, I have a warped imagination—and two healthy breasts.

Peace, people.

Bear With Me

Studly Doright and I had a great time hanging out with our daughter and her family in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, last week. We ate a lot, played a bunch of fun games, enjoyed an indoor snowball fight with fake snowballs, played an intense Christmas game, and opened presents.

The week began rather inauspiciously when a bear made him/herself at home in my car, decimating a can of peanut brittle, but doing very little damage to the car. We apparently hosted a considerate bear.

Bears don’t recognize such niceties as lids.
Someone was sitting in my chair….

My daughter stepped outside just in time to take these photos on the morning after we discovered the car incident. Wonder if this was our culprit:

Move along bear….

The remainder of the trip was bear-free; although, we were on constant guard any time we were outside. Just look at this view from our deck:

Smoky Mountains floating above the clouds.

I’ll leave you with photos of my loved ones. We sure missed having our son and his family with us this year, but were so happy to be with part of the family after such a stressful year. I needed the hugs.

Harper, with a tiny piece from one of her Christmas game presents. She REALLY got into the game.
McKayla ended up with one of the gag gifts….
Garrett with a techie gadget.
Son-in-law, Stephen, with his bounty from our Christmas game.
Daughter, Ashley with her goodies.
Studly Doright with “snow balls.” We had quite the fight with these.

Hoping your holidays are bear free.

Peace, people!

Scout’s Honor Publishing

One of the sweetest surprises associated with self publishing was discovering that I got to create a name for my own publishing company. When my editor, Rachel Carrera told me to start thinking of a name for my enterprise I jotted down several possible titles, including “Scout’s Honor,” for our recently deceased cat, Scout, but thought I’d go with “Praying for Eyebrowz” in keeping with my blog’s title.

Then I spoke with my daughter, Ashley. When I told her about getting to christen my publishing company the first words out of her mouth were, “Scout’s Honor.” And that sealed it.

Scout was my co-writer, but died before we published.

For Christmas, Ashley had a friend design a logo for me. I cried when I first saw it. Studly Doright cried when he held it.

My photo doesn’t do it justice.

Now for a shameless attempt to encourage you to buy my book if you haven’t already:

Peace, people!

Does a Bear Sh*t in the Lincoln?

The answer to that question is, “Thankfully not this time.” One did, however, carefully explore the interior and exterior of my car, completely decimate a container of peanut brittle, leave a trail of leaves and other detritus in the front seat, and paw prints on the hood, before going on its merry way.

Paw print in the frost.
Someone’s been sitting in MY chair….

I’d love to say that Studly Doright was to blame for leaving our car unlocked next to the cabin we’ve rented in the Smoky Mountains near Gatlinburg, TN, but it’s all my fault. I must’ve forgotten to lock the vehicle when I went out to fetch my bottle of wine.

The preliminary damage report doesn’t appear to be too awful. The seats aren’t ripped, neither is the headliner. He or she didn’t mess with my favorite throw blanket in the backseat. There are claw marks on the exterior of my once pristine Lincoln. The one we save for long trips. The one that is two years old and just barely has 10,000 miles on it. Sigh. But, as far as bear intrusions go, this one could have been a great deal worse.

I just hope our little friend doesn’t expect me to entertain him again tonight. I’m not Goldilocks, after all.

Peace, people!

The Case of the Missing Mary

‘Tis the season for my annual Christmas noir tale.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2017/12/10/the-case-of-the-missing-mary-3/

Life With Gracie

Gracie, our newish rescue kitty is a joy. She loves me like I’m the greatest thing since filleted tuna, following my every move, and plunking down beside me in dramatic fashion when I have the audacity to sit.

Gracie watching me apply makeup.

She has a tendency to be loquacious and we exchange banter back and forth throughout the day. I’m fairly certain her vocabulary is larger than mine. In addition to her sweet “mew-mews,” Gracie grunts. These vocalizations sound like a combination of a dog’s bark and a pig’s oink, but they only occur when she’s jumping off of or onto some piece of furniture, as if she’s giving each leap her all.

Gracie is ultra jealous of our electronic devices and always finds a way to insert herself between the device and her human. If I want to write a blog post I essentially have to hide for a bit; although, this cartoonist might be on to something:

She is precious, though. As she’s settled in to our household she’s become much more relaxed. She even took a break from being my constant companion yesterday to hang out with a couple of snow people, allowing me to write this.

Innocent? Nah.

Please don’t be fooled by her sweet face. The crazy Gracie is still there. She’s just learning to hide it better. Like the Hulk, only cuter.

Peace, people!

A Toast

I’m drinking a toast to everyone who has supported me by purchasing my book. You all are THE BEST! If you haven’t yet bought Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, I can make this toast retroactive. It’s a skill that very few people have.

Please note that my smile, while awkward, is genuine. My fake smile is much worse.

Peace, people.

A Hot Mess

The trash collection guys come on Monday mornings—usually quite early in the day. So here at Doright Manor we usually remember to move our trash receptacle to the curb on Sunday afternoon, but not always.

When I woke up yesterday morning at 7 a.m. my first thought was, “Oh crap! Is that the trash truck I hear?!”

I scooted the cat off of my chest where she’d snuggled down, blissfully unaware of such things as full trash receptacles. Her glare was equal parts disappointment and disdain. How dare you disturb me?!

Hurriedly I donned a pair of sweat pants and a non-matching sweatshirt, pulled on some socks and shoes and scurried outside into the 40° weather to try and outrun the trash collectors. I grabbed the dew-covered handle of the receptacle and winced. It was cold and wet. Ugh.

I was not to be deterred, though! I gritted my teeth and pushed the container to the curb, hoping I wasn’t too late. When I looked around at other homes I was surprised to see that no one else had their cans out for pickup. Puzzling. That was until I remembered that it was Wednesday morning, not Monday, and that I was either two days too late or six days too early.

So there I stood, on the curb, shivering in a pair of Studly’s hole-y sweatpants, which are considerably larger than any of mine, a Walking Dead sweatshirt, mismatched shoes and wet hands, wondering if I truly had finally lost my mind.

The jury is still out.

In Studly’s Hands

I finally got to hold a copy of the paperback version of my novel, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort. Sadly, it’s not mine to keep. I’ll forward it on to my friend and editor, Rachel Carrera first thing tomorrow.

Studly Doright wanted to hold it. “It’s huge!” were his exact words. I was pushing for “clever, poignant, skillfully done,” but I’ll settle for “huge!”

Peace, people!