Tag: blog

True Confession

True Confession: I am an idiot.

Once upon a time I created a Facebook ad for my first novel (Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort) with the assistance of the lovely and talented Lori Roberts Herbst (author of the Callie Cassidy Mysteries). You’ve likely seen my ad and maybe been annoyed by it because, well, it hasn’t been updated in FOREVER.

That’s because I can’t remember how to generate a new ad. Yes, I’m an idiot. The current (OLDER THAN DIRT) ad shows Mayhem with 239 reviews, when in fact, it now has 849 reviews. Mostly four and five star, I might add.

One of these days I’m going to tackle this issue. Just not this day. So, thanks for your patience and your love and support. I have THE BEST readers.

(By the way, there are currently two additional books in the series, and another sequel to be published in the near future—I’m just not savvy enough to create ads for them.)

Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, along with all my other books, is available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle formats. Also available through Kindle Unlimited.

The Great Wine Disaster of 2022

A healthy pour

Red, a Merlot,

Full-bodied.

I knew the first taste

Before lifting the glass

To waiting lips,

And then

One awkward,

Thoughtless move

Sent the crystal

Lurching,

Slow-motion, yet

Too fast for old

Fingers to find

Purchase,

And wine went

EVERYWHERE:

The floor

Countertop

Inside cupboards

And drawers.

All over my khakis,

The ones with elastic

At the ankles

Harem girl style,

My favorites.

And saddest of all?

There was no wine

Left in the

Bottle.

Extraordinary

Studly Doright was out of town most of this past week and I needed a good program to watch to make the evenings pass more quickly. A friend from my water aerobics class suggested a South Korean film on Netflix—“Extraordinary Attorney Woo.”

Now I’m hooked. The series, about a rookie attorney named Woo Young Woo, is refreshing and clever. There’s no nudity. No blood and guts. Just a young autistic woman with a penchant for whales, struggling to fight for truth, justice, and the South Korean way one case at a time.

So, if you need something completely different to watch, give Woo a chance.

Peace, people!

Wayward Memory

It’s 6:54 a.m. and 52° here in Tallahassee, FL.

I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot of Trousdale aquatics center waiting for my water aerobics class to begin and giving myself a pep talk that goes something like “You’re going to freeze to death. Enjoy!”

Oh, and today’s my birthday.

A steady stream of young women, high school age by the look of them, leave the pool area, heading to their cars so they can make it to first period classes on time.

I count a shiny new Jeep and a Lexus among their rides. A far cry from the ‘57 army green Ford Galaxie I drove in high school.

That Galaxie was built like a tank. Ugly as sin, it could withstand just about anything man or beast could throw at it. And one morning, when I was a high schooler myself, racing from band practice at the junior high to the high school for my next class, my friend, Ray’s car didn’t stop quickly enough on the newly graveled street and, bam! He plowed into my Galaxie and a geyser of steam erupted from beneath his hood.

That Galaxie, though, didn’t even flinch.

I hope those high school girls make it safely to their destinations. There wasn’t a single ‘57 Ford Galaxie in the mix. Tsk. Tsk.

Peace, people!

In Favor of Charlie Hunnam

Knowing that Studly Doright and I are motorcyclists, well-meaning friends have often recommended the series, Sons of Anarchy. Until recently we’ve always laughed and said, “We aren’t that kind of bikers.”

Nevertheless, we finally broke down and began watching the show. Now, two seasons in, we’ve got a few observations:

1) Trade the bikes for horses and you’ve basically got Yellowstone.

2) Katie Sagal is awesome as Gemma.

3) Charlie Hunnam is hot. Okay, that’s my observation. Studly wants you to know that he’s not on board with that.

4) It’s a violent show and we’re trying to decide if we’ll continue watching.

5) Charlie Hunnam is still hot, so we (I) probably will watch ‘til the end.

Peace, people.

Do You Love Me?

Water aerobics early this morning meant walking into water that was slightly warmer than the ambient temperature of 66 degrees Fahrenheit. It wasn’t bad as long as I could keep my body submerged. But brrr!

When our beloved T., keeper of the music, turned on the tunes, all became right in the world. First song up? “Do You Love Me,” the song released by the Sonics in 1965 and covered by quite a few artists including David Hasselhoff. (heaven help us.). The movie Dirty Dancing reminded everyone that it was a worthy song. Yes it is.

Pretty soon I forgot about the cold and bopped my way across the pool. Do you love me? You bet I do.

Peace, people!

Splishing and A’Splashing

My birthday’s coming up soon. I’ll be 66. Or as I like to say, Sixty Freaking Six. I’m not complaining. Much.

At the risk of calling some awful punishment down on myself, I have to say I feel really great right now. I’m taking an early morning water aerobics class four times a week, and while I have occasional aches and pains, the time I spend in the water makes me feel like I’m thirty-something. Almost.

In the water I’m gracefully buoyant and beautiful. The second I begin ascending the steps out of the pool, I turn into an ungainly gnome. It’s magic. Dark magic. If only I could live in the pool. Unfortunately, I’m trying to finish book four in the Happy Valley series and the laptop doesn’t like to get wet.

Still, I think I’m making a fairly smooth transition into the second half of my 60’s. I’m just gonna keep on splishing and a’splashing.

Peace, people!

I See the Light

Studly Doright had an interesting escapade a few days ago. I’d left for water aerobics at 6:30 a.m., while Studly waited for a co-worker to stop by Doright Manor to pick him up for a business trip to somewhere in western Florida.

While he waited, he opened up his motorcycle workshop to fiddle with his Suzuki for a few minutes. He left the door up since he didn’t plan to be inside the shop for very long.

As he checked to see if his bike’s new tubeless tires were holding air, Studly noticed a small group of worms headed his way.

“How odd.” He thought. “Maybe they’re attracted to the light.”

Stepping outside, he realized these worms weren’t behaving in a very wormlike manner. They raised their little heads in a suspiciously snakey way.

Now, my husband only fears a few things: crazy chickens, stampeding dairy cows, and snakes of any variety. These erstwhile worms were snakes, albeit, extremely skinny ones.

He freaked out and stomped each one in turn, then looked up to find more snakes headed his way. After all was said and done, Studly Doright had wiped out fourteen snakes. Maybe an entire generation!

I was appalled. “Why didn’t you just turn out the light? They were clearly attracted to it?”

“If I’d turned out the light, I wouldn’t have been able to see the snakes.”

I shuddered. Good point.

Peace, and sweet dreams, people!

It’s Been A While

There’s a hurricane headed our way. They’re calling it Hurricane Ian—a small name for what has the potential to be a big storm.

It’s been a while since we’ve had a such a storm, and we might’ve become a bit complacent around here. But I remembered to buy a family pack of Little Debbie oatmeal cookies and enough bottled water to get us through a couple of weeks just in case there’s an extended interruption in the water supply.

We’ve packed “go” bags, in the eventuality that the storm becomes a brute, but we’re hoping it’ll weaken as it nears. Best case scenario would be for it fizzle out before it does too much damage anywhere.

Good vibes appreciated.

Peace, people.!

Going Commando

This post might come under the Too Much Information category, so I’ll forgive you if you want to tune out.

I went to water aerobics this morning. I’d gotten up early and donned my two-piece swimsuit, pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt as a cover up. The water aerobics class didn’t begin until ten, so I went to my favorite coffee shop and worked on my current manuscript, managing to wrack up 1200 plus words in two hours. Not bad for a Saturday.

My watch alerted me when it was time to head to the pool and I arrived at Trousdale aquatics center with a few minutes to spare. My plan was to burn a ton of calories during my class, pack them back on at Sweet Pea Cafe, and then arrive back at Doright Manor before Studly Doright made it home from golf so I’d have my choice of nap locations. Dibs on the sofa!

About midway though froggy jumps, I realized I’d forgotten to pack my bra and undies. Hm. So as soon as I got out of the pool I stretched out on one of the loungers, soaking up the sun. But the clock was ticking. If I wanted that sofa nap I was going to need to take drastic measures.

In the locker room I pulled my T-shirt over my sort of soggy swimsuit top, but the bottoms were still really wet. So, I did something I can’t remember ever having done in my life. I pulled my jeans up over my naked bum and went commando.

Even though there was no way anyone could possibly tell I had no knickers on, I felt like I was wearing a scarlet letter on my forehead: C for commando or B for breezy. I gobbled down my lunch and scurried back to my car, then raced home, pulling into the driveway just minutes ahead of the competition.

And yes. I got the sofa—but only after I added undies to my ensemble. Going commando isn’t going to be my new norm. I promise.

Peace, people!