tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21383928438963438862024-03-14T03:10:03.012-07:00Random ThoughtsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1678125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-7222181254267313822017-11-18T10:18:00.001-08:002017-11-18T10:18:05.211-08:00Dear Beau,<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I miss you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnkdI-GqomOhf99ZtZdzpwVv7q0VlBObjGt3aCidvXdsG8sRwBKAAf87zh1FfUncpyLzCmC_2JIUpEWvc9Z9KGkCp49Em4Xgt_lEa3eb7GMkNzCcwKezW7hT6E_4CC_Jw8nn2KLdV31OBo/s1600/73544_1544234338416_3078305_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnkdI-GqomOhf99ZtZdzpwVv7q0VlBObjGt3aCidvXdsG8sRwBKAAf87zh1FfUncpyLzCmC_2JIUpEWvc9Z9KGkCp49Em4Xgt_lEa3eb7GMkNzCcwKezW7hT6E_4CC_Jw8nn2KLdV31OBo/s1600/73544_1544234338416_3078305_n.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You’ve been gone
two years now. Since you left me I’ve
tried to be as brave and strong as you were but there are times when I
fail. I’m sorry for that. Feels like I’m not honoring your memory as I
should. I will do better. For you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I always
believed that magic draws magic. Oh yes,
I am magic. Definitely. But not like
you. You were, without exception, the most magical,
mystical creature ever! You still
are. I know you gathered the kitties
that came before you and crafted the fae Teague just for me. He has traits from each of you. Never fails to make me smile when he reveals
another one. And how else would he have
gotten to the right person to get him to me without your help?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Kya was sitting
with me this morning. I can tell she
misses you too. None of the boys snuggle
with her like you used to. They pick on
her instead. Can you whisper to them
please and get them to stop that? As you
know, she’s a very sweet girl who just wants cuddling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With everything
going on now I wish you were still here in person but I know you’re watching
over me. You’ll take care of me same you
always have. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It just hurts
today, you know? Five years wasn't enough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I love you,
Beau. Always will. See you in my dreams…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-63540328587614610812017-10-07T11:49:00.000-07:002017-10-07T11:49:09.703-07:00Snippet 3<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">Shh. I have a secret. Huge! Too big to keep to myself so I'm going to share it with you. C'mere. It's the moon. She's mine! No, silly. Not like that. No one can own the moon. I mean she's my best friend. Oh sure, I let everyone else enjoy her but way down deep inside I know without a doubt that she's there for me. Always watching over me, protecting me, lighting my way when I need her to. Sometimes we play hide and seek, her behind the clouds, me in the s</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">hadows. She wins more often than I do because she know just how to shift so I'm back in her light again. Honestly, I wouldn't want it any different. Sometimes she can't wait until night to see me and pops out during the day. Did you see her a month or so ago? Strutting out at high noon so fast to find me that she blocked out the sun! Boy, did that cause a stir! And last night, after the rain, did you see her? Wasn't she glorious! All that, just for me. I am so loved!</span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-38015373447613787642017-10-05T15:22:00.002-07:002017-10-05T15:24:56.610-07:00Another Snippet<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">He watched her wander into the market. There was something about her, a stillness even when she was in motion that captivated him. He’d had a stand there for years and knew all the regulars. He also recognized the occasional patrons. She was new, different. From away if he were a betting man. He liked his routine and just her being there was disrupting it somehow. He wanted to ignore her but couldn’t. She both disturbed and fascinated him in ways h</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">e knew he’d never be able to explain to anyone, not that he had any intention of trying. When she stopped at the end of his table he had to fight the urge to run away almost as much as his impulse to rush towards her. He watched in awe as his helper greeted her as if she were anyone. Looking around, he saw that no one else seemed to notice anything odd about her. Or if they did, they were hiding it much better than he was. When she looked up at the young man and shook her head his breath caught. He’d never seen an expression of such pure peace before. As if on cue she turned toward him and snared him with her gaze. Waves of serenity exuded from her and washed over him. He still wanted to flee but found himself gravitating to her instead. She glanced at the peaches before her and waited quietly. Without conscious thought, he chose one perfect peach and handed it to her. The anticipation nearly killed him. For a brief instant everything went silent. The surrounding area was as still as she was. Then she brought the fruit to her nose and inhaled deeply. She smiled at him and nodded, biting into it, letting the juice run freely down her arm. She thanked him softly and moved away. The simple act was nothing yet it was everything. He knew deep in his soul that his world had just shifted. She would be back and his life would never be the same…</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-7951030394254118102017-10-05T15:21:00.002-07:002017-10-05T15:24:05.016-07:00A Snippet<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">And the world faded around her. She had fought so hard to be what they demanded, to become what they saw her as. But in her shattered heart she knew it wasn’t her. She finally accepted the impossibility of it. Time to let it all go and move on. Maybe, hopefully she would one day step back out of the shadows and find a tribe to call her own. One where she was accepted, cherished even, as she truly was. For now though, she had to begin the journey on her own. The one to reclai</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline; font-family: "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;">m herself and discover who she really was behind all the masks she juggled for eons. It was so long that she’d hidden her true self that even she didn’t know her anymore. If you see her going along her solitary way, please be kind. She carries enough disappointment in herself for the masses. Don’t add to it. Nod and let her pass. This empty shell phase won’t last forever. She will sooner or later be back in all the shining glory she held when she was young. Before she was beaten by the life she struggled to fit in to...</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-50952813947869640222017-07-30T11:36:00.004-07:002017-07-30T11:36:47.630-07:00Growy Things<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugkCdCeQg3FjOJG0zDQWA_kt5rh8rlV6c13jWGmF4KN06danW9lKZiKqWZj1h7_ddSJM7ZBfRQkS5cTlR1BBzrLpZh0X8q6_EdU2rcAOhxIUSFAe17gTFObSp_GN9WQ-vTE9PQ17n8SQ3/s1600/balsam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="711" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgugkCdCeQg3FjOJG0zDQWA_kt5rh8rlV6c13jWGmF4KN06danW9lKZiKqWZj1h7_ddSJM7ZBfRQkS5cTlR1BBzrLpZh0X8q6_EdU2rcAOhxIUSFAe17gTFObSp_GN9WQ-vTE9PQ17n8SQ3/s200/balsam.jpg" width="148" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Balsam with Admiral </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The only good thing about summer is getting to play in the dirt. And enjoying what comes of said dirt-playing.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA_uEBwmsWCwu0bLTycbEcqaRMebPvprxEBt1l4eAj8D5ROig8C-2novJnsffdI8aquYbHaI4SZRhgJ6FZPtywhiur7C_a4YJWulKPHAIWG85ZfWKYU1t8NlgVj13tlOlkY6_4vXn6gIww/s1600/garden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA_uEBwmsWCwu0bLTycbEcqaRMebPvprxEBt1l4eAj8D5ROig8C-2novJnsffdI8aquYbHaI4SZRhgJ6FZPtywhiur7C_a4YJWulKPHAIWG85ZfWKYU1t8NlgVj13tlOlkY6_4vXn6gIww/s200/garden.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Battle!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This year it has rained often enough that things are growing as in GROWING! One of the gardens I tend is maybe 10' x 24'. Not a bad size. There are lots of things I can't put in there because the deer who wander through the yard snack as they go. I can do cucumber, squash, peppers and sometimes tomatoes. Yes, if it's too dry the deer start nipping the tomato leaves for moisture but, as I said, this year it's raining. Still don't have any tomatoes to speak of, or not there anyway. You see, the cucumbers and squash are having a battle. They're planted at opposite ends of the garden but they're all growing out of control and have taken over the center. I have celery planted for the first time and had to search for it today.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vo82ZWxK4m-akB9bxmf-bHdFY0YbUQ8RdGwdgbE1KyxQDHryopg0dV4KDQ4CziGU1917YwkpZDVZdNZXEgU6aE4MMxJDip_ZvlwhKm_lv1BN5o8B1H9Ig3IR5SkSx17MWKYAu084Uhv1/s1600/harvest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vo82ZWxK4m-akB9bxmf-bHdFY0YbUQ8RdGwdgbE1KyxQDHryopg0dV4KDQ4CziGU1917YwkpZDVZdNZXEgU6aE4MMxJDip_ZvlwhKm_lv1BN5o8B1H9Ig3IR5SkSx17MWKYAu084Uhv1/s200/harvest.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harvest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM25JxY-Yr1MbKy7mFzC_wvB0G4aBNFGvTggMNF_aSUJtrkZdurQT4WhsvcEE8fSH6aXW1Yw0C9k64nD0yLQ_FEluxWeNEu_EZG9jHeUju47l3OBHWN1JnMrBdqd6TRfTsyBdO4R1pe1H-/s1600/celery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="714" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM25JxY-Yr1MbKy7mFzC_wvB0G4aBNFGvTggMNF_aSUJtrkZdurQT4WhsvcEE8fSH6aXW1Yw0C9k64nD0yLQ_FEluxWeNEu_EZG9jHeUju47l3OBHWN1JnMrBdqd6TRfTsyBdO4R1pe1H-/s200/celery.jpg" width="148" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celery</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The homeowners always encourage me to take as much produce as I want. (No, I didn't tell them that I always eat the first of everything I grow for them.) This year there's more than enough for all of us.<br />
<br />
The butterfly weed I started last year for the Monarch butterflies is doing well. It's bloomed and some is now going to seed. I'm letting it because I would like to help them and the woman that lives there loves butterflies so she's happy with anything that attracts them. I'm planning on snagging some other butterfly-friendly plants and doing some rearranging. Good thing too as this morning there was a Monarch fluttering around as I work. I love to add flowers without telling them! It's so much fun when they eventually notice the new things I've planted.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAndHeM3BbC4iqzD-rhbhkkr2Q-s9vt0Jzp2OwCGn_L0h2UsY6u3VXqjOwZrfjUTZwsB-KO5IPQrEl5oPKW0GeTyLVe5fvAyCdvbpxo6xiRD0CMqumPzGxkmmZeBeSEjuG7ma9YrdDtT_o/s1600/butterfly+weed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAndHeM3BbC4iqzD-rhbhkkr2Q-s9vt0Jzp2OwCGn_L0h2UsY6u3VXqjOwZrfjUTZwsB-KO5IPQrEl5oPKW0GeTyLVe5fvAyCdvbpxo6xiRD0CMqumPzGxkmmZeBeSEjuG7ma9YrdDtT_o/s200/butterfly+weed.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Butterfly Weed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx38o0AfHsAHUJ18XWOClq37atssZvEoCdxrI3yYhyphenhyphen5zBDs8jagvyUS1FDEDhM7PMFm2CpI8EXROIszaSL1yd2KJ82nEEGSugRJjACf7lUYiBm3wqo5Kwd6v5zDhdhpZ4sI7x9_KyGLk3i/s1600/red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="761" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx38o0AfHsAHUJ18XWOClq37atssZvEoCdxrI3yYhyphenhyphen5zBDs8jagvyUS1FDEDhM7PMFm2CpI8EXROIszaSL1yd2KJ82nEEGSugRJjACf7lUYiBm3wqo5Kwd6v5zDhdhpZ4sI7x9_KyGLk3i/s200/red.jpg" width="158" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Red Flowers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I put in hollyhocks this year. My great aunt used to have them in her yard and I decided I needed some. My yard, of course is full so in they went at the new garden I tend. They'll be blooming soon. Yep, I'll post a picture as soon as they do.<br />
<br />
That's it for now. Go out and get your hands dirty!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-56793865321757984402017-06-04T12:54:00.000-07:002017-06-04T12:54:24.375-07:00Different Lifetimes<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I know. I haven’t been here in ages. I apologize for that and thank you for
stopping by.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIeMiLV8_T7r491avHknUDfJyRdy7J5CCS_MSsz97VsjS-cNj_u5pjZA-T9nIoo-lFmQR9EafFjXunV_EjaW1UiqHfYi_KIjumR3CRJI6axI4TRs48m2T_KJCRzbUb3S_1Y3QiiAxNoOcq/s1600/9781906328382-medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="250" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIeMiLV8_T7r491avHknUDfJyRdy7J5CCS_MSsz97VsjS-cNj_u5pjZA-T9nIoo-lFmQR9EafFjXunV_EjaW1UiqHfYi_KIjumR3CRJI6axI4TRs48m2T_KJCRzbUb3S_1Y3QiiAxNoOcq/s200/9781906328382-medium.jpg" width="125" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I wasn’t here
because it hurts too much to try and write.
Even this little bit is painful.
Not physically though my thumbs aren’t moving well today. No, the pain is mental, emotional. You see my publisher, who I trusted enough to
place a dozen books with, ran into some difficulties and closed down. (Or so it seems but that’s for another
day.) I became disheartened. No, that’s not really the right word. It’s more than that. It sucked the writing soul right out of me
and left me so hurt and angry that the characters who live in my head went into
hiding. The ones who used to whisper
blogs to me got so quiet I can no longer hear them. So all you get to today is me, on my own,
trying to string words together that make sense. It’s a new experience for me, writing on my
own. I don’t like it one bit. Part of me is petrified that the writer
lifetime of me is over.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Like the
musician lifetime. When I was a child I
played a string bass. Quite well
actually. I was good enough to be
invited along for an orchestra trip that traveled to a music festival in England. I auditioned for local events and made it all
the way to the state level. I was loaned
out to other schools that didn’t have a bass player and played for their spring
musicals. I even spent several summers
at a high quality music camp. Nope, can’t
play now. Last time I tried it was
bad. Very, very bad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For part of my
college lifetime I was multi-lingual. I
took German and Spanish in high school.
German, Russian and French in college.
I had a study system where I reviewed things in several languages at one
time, not just whichever class I was preparing for and English. It worked tremendously well. I was good at it. I was happy making it all blend in my
mind. Sadly once I graduated I didn’t
stick with it and most of the things I knew in that lifetime are gone now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3bQ5ICE7CxZI1uspkULUFa_bJq7F5Cm6f-YsIG_FZfTi7x26yiJng-F3eNoyhyphenhypheny_Q2KLKpvbCN0TTbz2q8NEQCPC2FsbIedkGyNTaiiRKQhpq0EYATvDQJxOBp0j2LXWwa7lhCJFNfUv/s1600/17359029_10210693064395377_1438065451661230452_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1440" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO3bQ5ICE7CxZI1uspkULUFa_bJq7F5Cm6f-YsIG_FZfTi7x26yiJng-F3eNoyhyphenhypheny_Q2KLKpvbCN0TTbz2q8NEQCPC2FsbIedkGyNTaiiRKQhpq0EYATvDQJxOBp0j2LXWwa7lhCJFNfUv/s200/17359029_10210693064395377_1438065451661230452_o.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I had a job
stitching original models for the design department in a craft kit
manufacturing company. Back then I did
beautiful needlework. All forms of cross
stitch and needlepoint. I remember one
piece was a line of bears with sweaters that looked knitted. Every morning I would top stitch a new
expression on each of their faces so I could enjoy them as I worked throughout
the day. Even after I transferred into a
different department I continued to stitch.
I drifted away from that years ago.
Recently I came across some things I’d made. They’re beautiful. I wonder if my fingers would remember how to
do that. I’m intimidated to try. I’m afraid it’ll be as much of a disaster as
attempting to be musical was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdhGSdpg7KNoX9w61h_14NvMiMLcf6mspCPOyOjFZPs5-a33mbQgbUoeSg5GtpOEU8uYDIznitPpQR1miTcX7rNtGZtF71mY3BkWM3Sg5sKQMrR6ef6tIqpB0DCpes_tiC2iEIaohwVuW/s1600/15894718_10210080758768119_6696234319684065684_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="960" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdhGSdpg7KNoX9w61h_14NvMiMLcf6mspCPOyOjFZPs5-a33mbQgbUoeSg5GtpOEU8uYDIznitPpQR1miTcX7rNtGZtF71mY3BkWM3Sg5sKQMrR6ef6tIqpB0DCpes_tiC2iEIaohwVuW/s200/15894718_10210080758768119_6696234319684065684_n.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">These days I’m
knitting. I learned to do that as a
child, taught by my grandmother. I made
a few things and then moved on. Thirty
years later a friend inspired me to try knitting again. I’m happy to say that it came back. You should see the socks I’ve made! And the reversible scarf! </span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I’m thrilled with them but not. They seem to be draining away all my creative
energy.</span><br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Which takes me
back to writing. I don’t know if knitting
is actually using up my creativity or giving me an outlet to keep my head from
exploding while my characters are in exile.
I’m very restless these days. I
haven’t been able to sit still long enough to knit lately. Upsetting as I’m in the middle of several
projects that I really want to finish. I weave magic into my knitting and I don’t
want it to go wasted. That would not be
cool, trust me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So there is
change coming. A new lifetime
starting. No, I don’t know what it will
be. I’m not even sure I want to
know. My only hope is that I don’t lose
what I’ve learned in the last ones this time.
Maybe, someday, the universe will give everything back at once. Wouldn’t that be amazing? Can you imagine me able to do all that I ever
could?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-63666979493198699572016-10-27T14:30:00.001-07:002016-10-27T14:30:32.292-07:00Go Read & Follow This!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJL7A7bJYcdUqGWOgmmAGHGePvKHnKu5a8QB9BFH2RBpayy_LRUERSYyOljecRhulaRg176NNPT-Jh2GPUokvfPGWr6xWQfC9CACujft4fcPbHp-seNWTaoS5ttTpBxX14-uXMSJ9YPw7x/s1600/loki-chris2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJL7A7bJYcdUqGWOgmmAGHGePvKHnKu5a8QB9BFH2RBpayy_LRUERSYyOljecRhulaRg176NNPT-Jh2GPUokvfPGWr6xWQfC9CACujft4fcPbHp-seNWTaoS5ttTpBxX14-uXMSJ9YPw7x/s320/loki-chris2.jpg" width="320" /></a>As I mentioned last time, I have talented friends. Friends plural. Here's an introduction to another.<br />
<br />
Meet Lance Cheuvront. Or Cutter Murdoch as he's sometimes called. He's amazing in so many ways I don't know where to begin. Hmm. Perhaps I'll let you discover it for yourself.<br />
<br />
He's recently set up a blog, <a href="https://bornoflightning.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Born of Lightning</span></a>, which he was! Go check it out. And be sure to read the About section where he rambles a bit about himself. Leave a comment and say hello. He'll be happy meet you, I promise. <br />
<br />
Stop back often and see what he is up to. He is magickal, fun, entertaining and truly one of the most interesting individuals ever! And so damned talented. Did I mention that already? <br />
<br />
Go<span style="color: red;"> <a href="https://bornoflightning.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">here</span></a> </span>now! Go! NOW!!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-9592197558549174082016-10-20T14:04:00.000-07:002016-10-20T14:19:45.822-07:00Lois!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Bm9ICxIPWCsUwrkfdYhdhvKDAelZcxdAAD7nS3SmWlRSRgUubxmXwo88Uvn6-AX0m27QXpg2WkSeFFVGac76jAF4I_HOuPqCfjyi0UnyYRU12vYOAZnG0jUa2ZruU_dSw-iAhSqjW2oA/s1600/51pqnUVg6pL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Bm9ICxIPWCsUwrkfdYhdhvKDAelZcxdAAD7nS3SmWlRSRgUubxmXwo88Uvn6-AX0m27QXpg2WkSeFFVGac76jAF4I_HOuPqCfjyi0UnyYRU12vYOAZnG0jUa2ZruU_dSw-iAhSqjW2oA/s400/51pqnUVg6pL.jpg" width="266" /></a>I have such talented friends! This week, the wonderful <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Lois-Kasznia/e/B0087FTR8Q/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1476998288&sr=1-2" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Lois Kasznia</span></a> has a new book,<span style="color: red;"> <a href="http://www.resplendencepublishing.com/m8/840-978-1-60735-967-8--the-sin-bin-by-lois-kasznia.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">The Sin Bin</span></a></span>, released with Resplendence Publishing. How cool is it that we now share a publisher?<br />
<br />
Being spoiled as I am, I got to preview it before the rest of the world. Yes, not only is she talented but she's also very generous and indulgent! I just adore her voice and I know you will too. Romance and Lois's humor (which I love!) with hot hockey players mixed in. Go read it! And while you're at it, check out her other books too.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MDOKJB9/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1476996223&sr=8-2&keywords=lois+kasznia" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">The Sin Bin</span></a><br />
<div class="RPBlurb" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif;">Bad boy NHL Star, Scott McGregor, goes through women like water. He enjoys his life and has no intention of settling down any time soon. When he’s introduced to his hockey idol, Sergi Zemtsov, it’s Sergi’s daughter, Kylie, who steals his attention. Other women fade away, and only Kylie fills his obsessive thoughts.</span></span></div>
<div class="RPBlurb" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="RPBlurb" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif;">Professional golfer, Kylie Zemtsov is focused on her budding career and doesn’t have time for men. Her legendary father taught her all about players, and she knows she should stay away from Scott and his bad boy ways. It doesn’t matter how infatuated she might be with him, but when Scott pursues, she decides to give him a chance—give them <i>both</i> a chance.</span></span></div>
<div class="RPBlurb" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; padding: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div class="RPBlurb" style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; padding: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , "geneva" , sans-serif;">Their timing couldn’t be worse. Scott’s team is in contention for the Stanley Cups Playoffs, while Kylie is on a roll winning LPGA tournaments. Being together means flying from coast to coast and seeing each other whenever they can steal the time. Under great pressure, their relationship is tested, and if they can’t figure it out, they’ll both end up in the Sin Bin serving a penalty that will cost them a lifetime apart.</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-73343086682663811132016-10-15T11:20:00.001-07:002016-10-15T11:29:07.411-07:00Giggle!Eons ago I used to write poetry. Mostly depressing but every now and then I'd do something different. Today I stumbled upon one of those and thought I'd share it with you. Read it out loud in the creepiest voice you can muster.<br />
<br />
<i>Inky slinky don't dare blinky</i><br />
<i>Oily coily rum tum boily</i><br />
<i>Warn you once</i><br />
<i>Warn you twice</i><br />
<i>Draw the line at warning you thrice</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Dangly fangly time to mangly</i><br />
<i>Seeny greeny oh so meany</i><br />
<i>Run for life</i><br />
<i>Fast as you can</i><br />
<i>Mess your pants you still a man</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Stumble Fumble lost in jumble</i><br />
<i>Wicked kicked in the thicket</i><br />
<i>Down you go</i><br />
<i>One last chance</i><br />
<i>Get up now or never again dance</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Choppy loppy lose head toppy</i><br />
<i>Grippy snippy now you drippy</i><br />
<i>That was it</i><br />
<i>Warned you did</i><br />
<i>Now you stuffed in box with lid</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Told ya kulled ya shoulda sold ya</i><br />
<i>Killed ya milled ya and I billed ya</i><br />
<i>Serves you right</i><br />
<i>No do as said</i><br />
<i>Now you gone deserve to be dead</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>©2009 Barbara Huffert</i><br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-20405032984760659962016-09-20T06:38:00.004-07:002016-09-20T06:38:51.048-07:00Think About This...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh75w0ZxJD5N2Oxgr30DLP3ptBG83rAp541TydTXuXVBFcU0oNAhSqQeW-kq_rmjTSqocjjKFzGLTTijHnRhDR-y5EvQOlTCpRMOUFRpdc9dAKegZqRmueNZxrjTbaiRcR2wAUKrZa9MyuI/s1600/FB_IMG_1474378487734.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh75w0ZxJD5N2Oxgr30DLP3ptBG83rAp541TydTXuXVBFcU0oNAhSqQeW-kq_rmjTSqocjjKFzGLTTijHnRhDR-y5EvQOlTCpRMOUFRpdc9dAKegZqRmueNZxrjTbaiRcR2wAUKrZa9MyuI/s640/FB_IMG_1474378487734.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-85647881219594092672016-08-09T15:23:00.000-07:002016-08-09T15:23:35.490-07:00Happy Girl!It's time. For me to disappear from the world and OD on watching the Olympics! I absolutely LOVE them! Always have. Doesn't matter what sport they're showing or if it's summer or winter games. I watch whatever is going on. I even upgraded my cable for two weeks so I didn't miss anything. Only problem - they save the competitions with the biggest names until last on the evening broadcast. Yeah, so far I've slept through them all. Hey, I'm generally up and moving at 4:00am. Midnight is very late for me. But today is another day and I'll try again. <br />
<br />
Why are you still here, reading this? Go watch something! I'm flipping back and forth between women's soccer and men's beach volleyball.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBqG_gd-MetAkBS-qI7EsF1jFyRSNMY0L4ULHAycFYVCkBTcfmyk0iGTcoWs1ANNEb6CKGz5dfP08Uxa07ZgD1jXxlV6lNW1kN10w6PRPWR4-gVoAabIdOvKrhq16-9OzQcv-bvpAX702/s1600/rio.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBqG_gd-MetAkBS-qI7EsF1jFyRSNMY0L4ULHAycFYVCkBTcfmyk0iGTcoWs1ANNEb6CKGz5dfP08Uxa07ZgD1jXxlV6lNW1kN10w6PRPWR4-gVoAabIdOvKrhq16-9OzQcv-bvpAX702/s640/rio.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-84259448905878851542016-07-04T15:58:00.001-07:002016-07-04T15:58:53.104-07:00GO!!!<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKkiKTdCQeaqS5XbcwjJwS3O8hJzldizLLf5jFqvurdNpR2cK-viCJmMX8rmZN-kGOglSHj2VL27Irv_wAn2d_bHd8zlPZPdm1eHVxqMldt0sCY9uYuUvTGVzN7RN5IIcLFs6tEkQT8yD/s1600/veg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKkiKTdCQeaqS5XbcwjJwS3O8hJzldizLLf5jFqvurdNpR2cK-viCJmMX8rmZN-kGOglSHj2VL27Irv_wAn2d_bHd8zlPZPdm1eHVxqMldt0sCY9uYuUvTGVzN7RN5IIcLFs6tEkQT8yD/s200/veg.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-fdSolRp0ElCVHsmXFOY-vw416DPVTJV4iVHGdMTOTZGsU0OA3JVk-9qos9-vd8YOAaWOrZ2T3qqeFrRP4UkwXBugvMCbFrEqnhXroF3YUTXswgXcg3ZsNRsafufgwzuc008fTRqKCvqd/s1600/lily2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-fdSolRp0ElCVHsmXFOY-vw416DPVTJV4iVHGdMTOTZGsU0OA3JVk-9qos9-vd8YOAaWOrZ2T3qqeFrRP4UkwXBugvMCbFrEqnhXroF3YUTXswgXcg3ZsNRsafufgwzuc008fTRqKCvqd/s200/lily2.jpg" width="150" /></a>Outside and do stuff. It's summer. I've been busy which is why I'm not sitting inside on the computer. I'm not gone. I'm gardening! Lookee! I'll be back, promise. In the meantime, GO! DO! STUFF! TOO!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAMrGqTmxKd85v8w-x4odU-qThftUwkDnwzoi3Zk7oljDb69DvXFpIp5rs4ftPPS9n26k1rgV-5zDL-lPzxPiwH30Vzlnj3bclbsPl5sgA1vSWrXtVmp6IOAe6HkxDQrd1QgGu9Qb51VF/s1600/flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAMrGqTmxKd85v8w-x4odU-qThftUwkDnwzoi3Zk7oljDb69DvXFpIp5rs4ftPPS9n26k1rgV-5zDL-lPzxPiwH30Vzlnj3bclbsPl5sgA1vSWrXtVmp6IOAe6HkxDQrd1QgGu9Qb51VF/s200/flowers.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkHddvLVrcGZZC4bphzflnDxT6ZXgrCL17q0UESU5xgRaN4QpQY3TXvkFEm1p6wqbD2_aBXycl2Ogq1sdmwZLnPKpI_NxkmKTKs6Zzn7pTBbvSXPeGrSMAAPshaGyrjt4SsP-nWacOB5V/s1600/lily1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkHddvLVrcGZZC4bphzflnDxT6ZXgrCL17q0UESU5xgRaN4QpQY3TXvkFEm1p6wqbD2_aBXycl2Ogq1sdmwZLnPKpI_NxkmKTKs6Zzn7pTBbvSXPeGrSMAAPshaGyrjt4SsP-nWacOB5V/s200/lily1.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyFPZyzZVeJe6bVyk1SzEClTKVtd8pv11jfgqfYYv0Q5L2d5L8xkU658QbPA7Wg86opPWKKeAPFW5q2C-l0tkGBToLLl3q_kYbJU97N3s9-A1POSMnSm7P-tFxQISA0nUs8o-N0RuXsPT/s1600/glad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyFPZyzZVeJe6bVyk1SzEClTKVtd8pv11jfgqfYYv0Q5L2d5L8xkU658QbPA7Wg86opPWKKeAPFW5q2C-l0tkGBToLLl3q_kYbJU97N3s9-A1POSMnSm7P-tFxQISA0nUs8o-N0RuXsPT/s200/glad.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-7746429795849977712016-04-09T10:00:00.000-07:002016-04-09T10:00:35.282-07:00Disappointing News<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
received an email this week. Bonnier has
decided not to launch Evidence Press, the mystery/horror division they were
adding to their Totally Entwined Group.
To me, that means Indiscriminate Slaughter is once again homeless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Disappointing
as I said but not truly discouraging as some authors are taking it. As I see it, the book was accepted,
contracted, added to the release schedule.
If Bonnier took it, so will someone else. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
admit I did give myself a full day to sulk.
There were even some tears.
Disappointing, remember? But then
I regrouped, pulled out my badass writer attitude and sent it back out
there. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now
I wait, though I truly hope it doesn't take forever. It’s so different for me that I think you’ll
be surprised. It was also a lot of fun
to write, which shows, and it deserves to be read! <o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px;">I’ll keep you posted.</span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px;"> </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-18480371227337997162016-03-31T14:20:00.000-07:002016-03-31T14:20:44.396-07:00It's the Little Things<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTY8dwEehOinlhbb6wiV8aVxiYAL8O193j-cOB5L0ziEFuaeNTeEUnDpA214_3lUyY9cQ3WrrgxQ2LQ7xIX8RZFsCRoygReINteApO79zzJxT_N0dhegGOd0eVbApWMaD0WplGYuCScot/s1600/20160331_130257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTY8dwEehOinlhbb6wiV8aVxiYAL8O193j-cOB5L0ziEFuaeNTeEUnDpA214_3lUyY9cQ3WrrgxQ2LQ7xIX8RZFsCRoygReINteApO79zzJxT_N0dhegGOd0eVbApWMaD0WplGYuCScot/s320/20160331_130257.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My poinsettia from
last year started blooming a month ago and it’s still gorgeous. And I finally managed to grow freesia for the
first time ever! It should be open by
next week. I’ll show you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I caught an employee
at my new laundromat today. My card is
successfully registered which means I can go any time, day or night. If I get there ten minutes before I usually
go it will be considered “after hours” and I’ll get a 40% discount. Yes, I will be getting there early from now
on! While I was there I also put more
money on my card and scored a 10% cash bonus.
Yay me! I’m set for weeks
now. Happy girl!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5YLDXkGmmGl5RHUQ_hp33R-nbtZa9Es4sbMtW84vRC7lwf-8KEKtpi3TM6zFbmlRwg_9KaOX57VxjIWqtIoVC_ph0CgLDdmEAVO2Xx-q_BasfIaqaxYyDsYTe71g7fQusYoiuYr-mX8X/s1600/20160331_130017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD5YLDXkGmmGl5RHUQ_hp33R-nbtZa9Es4sbMtW84vRC7lwf-8KEKtpi3TM6zFbmlRwg_9KaOX57VxjIWqtIoVC_ph0CgLDdmEAVO2Xx-q_BasfIaqaxYyDsYTe71g7fQusYoiuYr-mX8X/s200/20160331_130017.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I happened to check
the menu at my corner bar even though I hadn’t planned on stopping there
today. Steak and rice soup. Nom!
No cooking for me tonight and there will be enough left over for lunch
tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div align="left" class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Today was a good day!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-18357304118278117672016-02-24T15:19:00.000-08:002016-02-24T15:19:00.786-08:002:00 a.m. Drama<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was sleeping nicely for a change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until Kya, Kitty Warrior Princess decided to
play downstairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Loudly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seriously louder than she has been the past
few nights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Meowing, which she rarely
does, bouncing off of things, scampering all over the place. Then she moved her
game upstairs to continue playing under the bed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The boys had been lounging with me but as soon as Kya hit
the room they leapt off the bed and pounced her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hmm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not their norm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the racket
didn’t subside I decided perhaps I needed to turn on the light and take a look
at what it was they had. By then Quinn snatched whatever it was from Kya and
had it in the corner behind the window fan.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yep, it was a wee mouse. Obviously terrified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quinn on one side, Harry on the other. Kya
had given up by then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knows not to
get in the middle of them once they are after something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have preferred to curl up and go back
to sleep but decided I had no choice but to deal with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But first, I made sure the covers weren’t
touching the floor, just in case it attempted to make a run for it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I put on my glasses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Better to see exactly what was going on, you know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Quinn has very long, sharp claws and I would need to get in close to
steal the mouse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was debating on
adding real clothes, again as protection but before I got that far Quinn
managed to snag the critter and took off like a shot, Harry and me on his
heals. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are twelve steps in my house. Six feet from where I
was sitting on the bed to the top of the stairs. In the seconds it took me to
follow, Quinn had the poor thing punctured bad. I guess he clamped down hard
when he made his move. I know this because there hadn’t been any blood upstairs
and the poor thing was nearly dead at the bottom of the steps where he’d
deposited it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I was figuring out the plan on how to grab it before
Quinn ran again it tried to wrap its tail around itself and hide its face. Very
sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I don’t know about you but I
don’t keep an almost dead mouse disposal kit handy in my living room. Turns out
Quinn the Destroyer didn’t intend to wait around for me to come up with
something. He grabbed the mouse and, growling ferociously with every step,
headed for the kitchen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Good choice! There was a plastic container drying by the
sink which I managed to slap down over the mouse the instant Quinn set it down,
I think to start snacking. Okay, step one, isolate the bloody mess,
complete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Step two, slide something beneath
it before Quinn realized he could simply give the container a swat and reclaim
the mouse, was accomplished in just as long as it took me to pluck a magazine
from the nearby table. Then all I needed to do was deactivate the alarm and
toss the sad little creature out the door, into the rain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, it wasn’t quite dead but I couldn’t bring
myself to kill it the rest of the way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
seriously doubt it lasted long. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I cleaned up the floors and went back to bed. Kya and Harry
came with me so I was fairly certain the mouse hadn’t been hanging with any little
friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quinn, on the other hand, was
angry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stomped around the house for
an hour, grumbling and grumping the entire time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If anyone had any right to be mad I think it
should be Kya at Quinn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d been
playing downstairs the last few nights so I can’t help but wonder if she and
the mouse had become buddies.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve already told them that tonight we are sleeping
peacefully, no interruptions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wish me
luck!</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-8463696507746265842016-02-05T17:36:00.001-08:002016-02-05T17:36:22.535-08:00Coming Soon to a Garden Near You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0EkVQyYV6FzGs56CdcM74_fbWCNDyDt5LN0ZBRvgg8buu9EKINIEISXRLqPvcaNwFm8oNM13xdomAQ0RViOo5POZwsKD9El6smTgYmZ1YxnHHAF910iO5undb6joOiQlnKrlhSH8-xTW/s1600/Croc2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil0EkVQyYV6FzGs56CdcM74_fbWCNDyDt5LN0ZBRvgg8buu9EKINIEISXRLqPvcaNwFm8oNM13xdomAQ0RViOo5POZwsKD9El6smTgYmZ1YxnHHAF910iO5undb6joOiQlnKrlhSH8-xTW/s640/Croc2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-79340245532472917302016-01-29T15:48:00.001-08:002016-01-29T15:49:23.374-08:00Sometimes...It's the little things. My poinsettia that I got back at Christmas in 2014 is still alive. Thriving actually. And just starting to bloom! Life is good. More pics to follow...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOCAgfuFlUHIBh407Pb2lI5_EtXgsdf2WZ_cEKXbk8JLjguh4z-HIPHuD4-EXqoeoV2r6D7MfFKZcelr6y0K8jvqbu1Cwbdy9duZGgwbA91VmK_1NJg6Fmx66o7YMdyrPs8sH6Dh2K0I-/s1600/12650934_10207194120083956_2263873956829415265_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrOCAgfuFlUHIBh407Pb2lI5_EtXgsdf2WZ_cEKXbk8JLjguh4z-HIPHuD4-EXqoeoV2r6D7MfFKZcelr6y0K8jvqbu1Cwbdy9duZGgwbA91VmK_1NJg6Fmx66o7YMdyrPs8sH6Dh2K0I-/s640/12650934_10207194120083956_2263873956829415265_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-44287333337755884752016-01-04T17:07:00.001-08:002016-01-04T17:07:25.874-08:00Hard to Believe I know, I know. You probably don't believe this but every year I manage to convince myself it's not really that bad. Turning the heat essentially off, that is. What was I thinking?!? Trust me, when it gets below 20 outside it gets darn cold inside, no matter how many layers I put on. It's 17 out there now, going down to 9 tonight, 8 tomorrow night. I have one more degree to go before the heat kicks on. You wouldn't think 49 is that cold but it is when it's inside. C'mon over and see for yourself if you need to but make sure you bring mittens and a hat. As for me, I'll be the lump under that pile of blankets with the kitties.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2JbkKeaWXJEzwsvY855luq3TXUGzYICiF7rQ30Dk6aJcXyMg0qq4tzr2jemyzCZuRaYqk0UhdKz0_hK6Hk-pm2dFGUevnZvXSEtVEC2BT2JFZZzSdFAE605ptT7EVNdSPzSWvMclsQ_o/s1600/20160104_195317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2JbkKeaWXJEzwsvY855luq3TXUGzYICiF7rQ30Dk6aJcXyMg0qq4tzr2jemyzCZuRaYqk0UhdKz0_hK6Hk-pm2dFGUevnZvXSEtVEC2BT2JFZZzSdFAE605ptT7EVNdSPzSWvMclsQ_o/s640/20160104_195317.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-90630468212959416222015-11-29T09:54:00.001-08:002015-11-29T09:55:40.449-08:00HeartbrokenBeau died the evening of November 18 while I held him. He will be missed more than I can express. I'm so far beyond sad there isn't a word for it. I'll be back after I regroup.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwS_zHKzReHMMQncRrxUkyXjcCi7tC7pZwbsoF1IGQsdajHLBbAu2cvvZvBCSSOxZCERSh31i53340CaY7zvnMO4Xk25xzajQ7-NrTSBFNJpsEIne0yuEl1uDYGKLVIT2ooVeuoSxf-Sh1/s1600/12278746_10206789186160861_8770555966222255170_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwS_zHKzReHMMQncRrxUkyXjcCi7tC7pZwbsoF1IGQsdajHLBbAu2cvvZvBCSSOxZCERSh31i53340CaY7zvnMO4Xk25xzajQ7-NrTSBFNJpsEIne0yuEl1uDYGKLVIT2ooVeuoSxf-Sh1/s640/12278746_10206789186160861_8770555966222255170_n.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-56139486422894364302015-10-25T11:23:00.000-07:002015-10-25T11:27:47.599-07:00About Beau<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="border-image: none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aaszI3AY1hzqG2jIR2E_AKO5Umxj33e5XAFf1JMS4d-ROq-hzGOL06e91PAVH8RkeQG9wrQEPpuNo-3KSKoUrhurBX0_jRvLbjntYR4_7DJwTGtdLFNtDdT4FHNruDUdEqq7YwsKMj53/s1600/FB_IMG_1445797242816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aaszI3AY1hzqG2jIR2E_AKO5Umxj33e5XAFf1JMS4d-ROq-hzGOL06e91PAVH8RkeQG9wrQEPpuNo-3KSKoUrhurBX0_jRvLbjntYR4_7DJwTGtdLFNtDdT4FHNruDUdEqq7YwsKMj53/s320/FB_IMG_1445797242816.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">He
was one day old when he stole my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A little striped, speckled kitty, one of a litter of six.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, one of the litter yet not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew the first moment I saw him that he was
different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A very powerful magical
creature in the guise of a tiny kitten.</span></div>
<div style="border-image: none;">
<br /></div>
</div>
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<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="border-image: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">I
found homes for the others. Beau claimed me from the start. We went home, this
wee one pound ball of fluff and it wasn’t long before he took over the house.
The three older cats already in residence were quickly under his spell. Oh he
lets them think they are dominant to him but that’s all part of his plan. </span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="border-image: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border-image: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Beau
is a storyteller. Always has been. He whispers to me, sometimes complete tales,
sometimes snippets that I must then fill in the blanks. You’d think something
so adorable wouldn’t be so wicked but trust me, he is. We are working on a book
of Beau Tales that will astound you when he decides it’s ready for public
viewing.</span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="border-image: none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMAh0394qC6bNdJf5ukRIoUw1vE-JGuJWhoUqNWBgI3LsYwlCg551iLaP0vMcFe9P3RwjokGkZOLMdCR5SrRTtHIFdNaLiNZWx6a-9Ri_cgUc4qvGriqNFN_9d4djEg6Z53VuSedEeKcCS/s1600/FB_IMG_1445797219988.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMAh0394qC6bNdJf5ukRIoUw1vE-JGuJWhoUqNWBgI3LsYwlCg551iLaP0vMcFe9P3RwjokGkZOLMdCR5SrRTtHIFdNaLiNZWx6a-9Ri_cgUc4qvGriqNFN_9d4djEg6Z53VuSedEeKcCS/s200/FB_IMG_1445797219988.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border-image: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">He’s
been under the weather lately. Yeah, that’s an understatement. He stopped
eating and hasn’t gotten back to it yet. I believe he will. When he is ready
and not a moment sooner. My wonderful vet has done everything for him.
Exploratory surgery, biopsies, supportive care. She sent him home because she
thought he would be more comfortable there, which I’m sure he is.</span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="border-image: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border-image: none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfsqjD-ZdjhpXOQZOBA_M3ikP8WWarmvnAh51QgP8G9B_XXh_3Yr4zGEC-gYO0xGFupe2onCTLnYhWRtP4MkNKYBfytll-PhlM1x_ozPum76_avA20f_xyXNstNAOX98shtfWlwu7lyPH/s1600/2015-10-15_18.48.51.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqfsqjD-ZdjhpXOQZOBA_M3ikP8WWarmvnAh51QgP8G9B_XXh_3Yr4zGEC-gYO0xGFupe2onCTLnYhWRtP4MkNKYBfytll-PhlM1x_ozPum76_avA20f_xyXNstNAOX98shtfWlwu7lyPH/s320/2015-10-15_18.48.51.jpg" width="282" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The
first two days he was back he stayed downstairs. I slept on the sofa to be near
him. This morning, after we did his IV fluids he put himself to bed in his regular
spot between the pillows, under the covers. He’s still not eating but I see this
as a good thing, like he’s saying he’ll be sticking around. Part of me suspects
he’s in collusion with the big cats. They’ve been getting all the leftovers of
the foods I’ve been offering him, things they rarely get.</span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<br />
<div style="border-image: none; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<div style="border-image: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="border-image: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt;">My
little Beau kitty. Magical beyond belief. Clever as hell. Naughty as can be but
cute enough to get away with anything. He’s one of a kind and I’m the luckiest
person alive because he chose me. May we have many more years of shared
adventures!</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-59096164466957571962015-10-24T17:19:00.000-07:002015-10-25T10:34:37.879-07:00Beau the Brave The Beau kitty hasn't been doing so well lately. Two weeks ago he stopped eating and was throwing up constantly. After visiting the vet and having plan A care at home not work he went back for plan B care there. Exploratory surgery and a week long stay hasn't solved anything. It did rule out a variety of things though which is good. <br />
<br />
<br />
Friday they decided he'd be more comfortable at home. I now know how to give IV fluids and injections in a catheter. Tonight one of the amazing vet techs stopped by my house and unclogged his IV. I had no clue what to do when I couldn't get fluid started so I called and she came. Truly amazing individual and that's how much she cares about the critters entrusted to her.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Beau still needs to relearn to eat but he's a magical determined little kitty and I believe in him. Still, we'd appreciate you sending good vibes for him out into the universe.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
More news to follow...<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-11687223286592890772015-09-08T08:57:00.001-07:002015-09-08T09:03:40.993-07:00Just That FastI watched her die. Though there really wasn’t much of anything to see.<br />
<br />
She came in, in front of me. Chattering away. Walking perfectly fine. No distress. No outward signs.<br />
<br />
Half a minute later, thirty little seconds, she fell. Foaming. Unresponsive.<br />
<br />
It seemed like forever until the paramedics arrived. Seven minutes after she’d come in from the porch. Seven. Five minutes from the time I’d called them. They assured us that she was gone by the time she hit the floor, that there was nothing anyone could have done for her.<br />
<br />
Chatting one moment. Dead the next. Literally. Slipping quietly into whatever follows. Without anyone to say goodbye. I would have, had I known. I would have told her she was a joy, that she’ll be missed. But it was too late. She was gone…<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-70618179887835936522015-09-04T16:01:00.000-07:002015-09-05T12:44:55.057-07:00At the End<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He stood in the shadows, watching the hate flow between the
humans. He’d been there for what they called a month. One after another, sometimes
more than one a day, they picked each other off, spilling their blood into the
ground. Senselessly. At first he thought there was a point to it. But no, there
wasn’t. Not one he could determine anyway. They seemed to thrive on killing
each other. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He’d been there before. In fact, he was the one who’d
suggested this little planet as a possible host to his kind. They were
chameleons. Able to fit in anywhere. Anywhere peaceful. His brethren could
never survive in the current atmosphere. The non-stop mindless violence would
leech the goodness from their essence and they would perish in a slow and
horrid manner. No, earth was no longer an option. They would have to find
somewhere else to call home.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">He turned, preparing to go, when he was noticed. The native
yelled at him, calling him an old man, demanding to know what he was looking
at. He spun about, pulling the weapon he swore never to use, not even in
self-defense. Without the slightest pause to consider what he was about to do,
he aimed it toward the voice and pushed the button, vaporizing the human
instantly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Nothing, he thought to himself. He was looking at nothing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Great sadness filled his being. It was too late for him. Now
that he’d done the unthinkable, he could never return to his society. He looked
down at the weapon, still in his hand. It only took a few clicks to change the
settings. It was their doing that his existence was over which meant theirs
should be too. He pushed the button again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">His crew, watching from space for his signal to begin
transporting their people to their new home, suddenly saw… nothing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 10.5pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Book Antiqua";">© 2015
Barbara Huffert</span><span style="font-family: "MS Shell Dlg"; font-size: 8.5pt;"></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-12347879040354738822015-07-28T16:19:00.000-07:002015-07-28T16:21:21.418-07:00Annoucement!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is with great sadness that I am removing the books
I have published with Ellora’s Cave from my website. I love those
books! When the first was accepted back in 2006 I was so happy. I
was extremely proud to become part of the Ellora’s Cave family of authors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the past year however, there has been some, let’s call
it, unpleasantness occurring with the company. No, I will not go into
details here. You can find more information by doing an internet search
if you are that interested. From my standpoint, and I speak for no one
but myself, I no longer have any confidence in the longevity of the company.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have requested the rights back on all my books. Even
the ones that don’t currently qualify. Why? Because when all the
badness comes to a head, I want it on record within the company that I have
done so. I am stating this here, publicly for the same reason.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hopefully, Ellora’s Cave management will do the right thing
and return my books to me in a timely manner. As soon as they do so I
will work on finding a new home for my art and go back to sharing it with
you. In the meantime, I apologize to anyone who is interested in reading
my stories. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am truly sorry Ellora’s Cave has made it nearly impossible
to locate any of my work on their site. And, just so you know, they
haven’t sent me any royalties in months so please, even if you do manage to
find my books, please don’t buy them. It no longer seems as if your
hard-earned money will find its way to me, the author who poured my heart and
soul into creating those stories.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do have four other books available from different
publishers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stop by the <a href="http://barbarahuffert.com/booksgargsbarb.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: red;">Books page </span></a>of my
website for more information.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thank you.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2138392843896343886.post-61892784386777917542015-07-11T12:08:00.001-07:002015-07-11T12:08:41.649-07:00Ever Wonder?All of life is research. I'm not sure if I consciously intend it to be or if that's just how it works out. Some of the most bizarre snippets in my books are absolute truths but I suspect no one would ever believe it. "Which ones?" you ask. I'll never tell! Only the individuals directly involved will ever know what is truth and what is fiction with me.<br />
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