Tag: blogging

Adventures in Book Clubbing

On Saturday I celebrated a “first” (for me, anyway). Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort was the featured book for a Tallahassee book club meeting, and I was invited to say a few words and answer questions from those in attendance.

It was a virtual meeting, so there were no worries about masks or social distancing. But I did pour myself a glass of Merlot, because what’s a book club meeting without wine?

I was a bit nervous at first, but the experience was so much fun that I soon forgot about my nerves and just relaxed and enjoyed myself. The funniest thing was that some attendees knew my book as well as, and in one instance, slightly better than I did! That was humbling and a little scary. Now I need to reread Mayhem before any future book club adventures.

Peace, people!

Bummer

The threat of impending thunderstorms has resulted in the cancellation of many of the scheduled Word of South events; therefore, I shall not be hawking my book to festival attendees this weekend. Instead, I shall parade around Doright Manor speaking formally to the resident feline and to the gentleman with whom I sleep.

Thankfully, today’s virtual book club meeting should proceed as planned, unless lightning intervenes. What is the old Yiddish proverb? “We plan; God laughs.” Alas, ‘tis true.

Carry on, fellow travelers. Weep not for me, for the heavy skies have taken on that task in your stead.

May you have peace, good people.

Ten Minutes of Panic

Yesterday I was pretty sure my car had been stolen from the Target parking lot near the Florida State University campus. I’d gone into the store for one item, and as most Target runs go, I ended up buying a shopping cart full of stuff.

When I finally checked out to the tune of more money than I should have spent on a random Thursday and went to load my purchases into my little Chrysler 200 my car was nowhere to be found. I knew exactly where it was supposed to be, but clearly it had been stolen.

I wandered around the parking lot for a few minutes before remembering to hit the panic button on my key fob. In vain I listened for the annoying alarm sound. I turned this way and that to no avail.

My heart dropped into my stomach. As I returned my key to my purse, though, my fingers brushed against another key chain. Oh! I thought. I didn’t drive the Chrysler today.

I looked up to realize I was standing mere inches from our Lincoln SUV. I stood there and laughed long enough that people around me were beginning to stare. They were all college students, though, so who cares, right?

The Chrysler is on loan to a friend, and since we seldom drive the Lincoln I’m likely to “lose” my car many times over the next couple of months. I won’t chronicle every episode here, but my sanity might go missing, as well.

Peace, people.

Author Stuff

I’m looking forward to a fun weekend of doing author stuff. On Saturday, I’m attending a virtual book club meeting hosted by the Tallahassee Women’s Social Meetup group. Guess whose book they’re discussing? Mine!

Yes, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort will be the topic of discussion, and I’m pretty excited. Just keep your fingers crossed that I don’t say something so stupid that everyone in attendance will want to immediately burn their copies and dance around the bonfire.

Then on Sunday I’m working a table at the annual Word of South festival in Tallahassee along with other members of the Tallahassee Writer’s Association. The festival snuck up on me this year and I didn’t get my tickets before they sold out, but at least I can be part of the fun and maybe let folks know about my book. By nature, I’m not a joiner, so again, please send me some good vibes as I embark on this adventure.

Peace, people!

A Day Late and a Dollar Short

If anyone ever writes my biography they should use the title “A Day Late and A Dollar Short.” Truly everything I’ve ever done has been “assbackwards” to use my mother’s terminology.

Case in point: I published my book, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, on Amazon on November 30, 2020, but it didn’t occur to me to create an author page on Facebook until March, and now it’s April and I finally realized I probably need an author page on Amazon, as well. Every other author I know created both prior to publishing,

At any rate, here’s the link to my Amazon page. I should have called it “About Damned Time.”: https://www.amazon.com/Leslie-Noyes/e/B091S7J61W?ref_=dbs_p_ebk_w0m_abau_000000&fbclid=IwAR3gbyRG0Iq0CmkaGdIfmQ_agxWBIzz3NsKAcg-tM3mghjtUqs_L-JLEHoY

It’s nothing fancy—mostly because I only vaguely understood what it was I was supposed to do. Honestly, I need a minder to hold my hand and guide me through every minute of every day.

Or a genie! That’d work.

This lamp sells for around $25.00 on Walmart.com. Genie optional.

Peace, people.

Shades of Easter Past

There was a time many years ago when Studly Doright and I found ourselves in dire financial straits. He’d been laid off from his job at a natural gas plant, and the small business we’d sunk all of his severance pay into wasn’t making enough money to support our little family.

We held things together, barely, thanks to Studly’s ability to juggle our finances, but there was never money for extras. And, heaven forbid that one of us get sick. Thank goodness we were all healthy and that Studly had the ability to handle just about any emergency.

One Easter things were particularly tough. The kids needed Easter clothes and there was no money for that. A local kids’ clothing shop had a drawing and I, who have never won a darned thing in my life, entered and then forgot all about it.

Lo and behold, I won that contest. I can’t remember the details, but the amount of the prize was exactly enough to buy two outfits, one for each of our kids. Looking back, I’m almost certain that one of the owners of the shop made sure that I won.

Weren’t they cute? I’m not sure whose backyard we were in, though.

Times are a great deal easier for us now, but that Easter holds a special place in my heart, thanks to the angel that made it possible.

Peace, people.

Worth Every Mile

On Saturday morning there were a couple of charity sales that I’d been looking forward to attending, so I got up early and drove into Tallahassee. On my way into town, I called my mother-in-law, Saint Helen. When we were in Texas last month, she was still recovering from some health issues and wasn’t her usual feisty self.

We hadn’t chatted since that visit and there was a lot to catch up on. So much, in fact, that we talked all the way across Tallahassee and I was almost in Monticello, a good 35 miles northeast of my intended destination, before I realized what I’d done.

Saint Helen thought that was hilarious, and when she laughed she sounded like her vibrant self again. I’d drive way out of my way any day just to hear that laugh.

Peace, people!

That’s a teenaged Saint Helen with her dad, Buck Parker, and two of her five brothers. I just love this picture.

The Nana Who Forgot Easter

Okay, I didn’t exactly forget Easter, I just got the dates wrong. That’s why the cinnamon rolls I ordered for delivery to my daughter’s and son’s families won’t arrive until next Friday.

I’m sure glad I’m not the one in charge of scheduling for the Easter Bunny. That would be a disaster.

Here’s hoping the grandparents in your life aren’t as scatterbrained as I am.

Peace, people.

Feeding the Beast

I neglected to post anything on Thursday and my stats dropped like a boulder attached to an anchor around the neck of a bull elephant. Pretty dramatic.

There was a time that would’ve caused me considerable consternation, but now I’m like “so what.” I’d love to tell you I was just too busy to write anything, but that would be a lie. Truth is, I worked on revising my romance all morning and then took a nap in the afternoon. And what a nap it was! Full color dreams about something that I can no longer recall. But it caused me to drool, so it must’ve been good, right?

Anyway, I’m feeding the beast now. I don’t think it’s all that nutritious, but surely any post is better than none.

Peace, people.