virgin cherry bomb

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

2009-12-24T07:23:00.000-08:00

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ We Wish You a Merry ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ Christmas ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ We Wish You a Merry ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ Christmas ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ We Wish You A Merry ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ Christmas ♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥ ¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪…And A Happy New Year!♪♫•*¨*•.¸¸♥

Nobody's Talking!

2009-10-18T08:33:00.000-07:00

Here I sit, all alone by my computer waiting, waiting waiting....

No matter how hard I try to hear them the voices in my head are not talking. I have no idea what I did to offend them. I was terribly busy doing nothing but relaxing last weekend at Stingray Point. Is that any reason to suddenly stop speaking to me? Just because I didn't immediately grab pen and paper (no computer available) to write down the profound things they were saying to me, now I am getting the silent treatment.

Due to the fact that I have a memory problem (see last post) I cannot remember anything those people were muttering. Well, maybe some things, but not blog post material. I don't think.

*Slap*. What was that for? Because I didn't remember your comment about the political situation? What political situation? Oh, so now you're going to sulk. Well okay then. Go ahead. See if I care. I'll just ask someone else to talk to me.

What do you mean no one has anything to even whisper to me? I missed all the good stuff because I was too busy having more fun with my friends than to listen to you? So, in other words, you have no good stuff left. You do? Well, since I haven't heard it I don't believe it. Tell me some good stuff. Still not talking? All right then. I'll just go read Bcb's blog http://kdjames.com . Her people are chatting a mile a minute to her. Oh now, now that I am planning to check out her voices, you decide to talk. Okay tell me.

"Once upon a time there was a girl..." Aw, c'mon.

No Elephant Me.

2009-08-26T17:09:00.000-07:00

Oh darn I forget what I was going to write.

I seem to be forgetting a lot lately. I know I can't possibly have forgotten as much as my family says I have. I have been accused of telling my daughter something and then telling her the same thing three times over in a very short period of time. Nah, she must be hearing echoes.

I'm told forgetting is just a condition of aging but I'm not THAT old. My brain still works very well. I know who and where I am at all times. That's very important. There was a time once when I didn't know where I was though. That was really scary. That was a medical problem.

I know my husband and children's names. I know my dog's name. I even know my name. That's important too.

Did I mention that I have been told I repeat myself several times in a short space of time? Oh, I did? Sorry.

My husband and daughter constantly say they have told me something but I know darn well they didn't tell me. I know they don't think so but sometimes the problem is not me but them. I often tell my husband he must have told his virtual wife because he hasn't told me.They forget things too and they even admit it once in awhile.

I hate forgetting that I said something. Because I don't remember doing it I tend to argue the point. I always lose of course, because the other two people in my house do remember me saying it. Since they are both younger than me (although one is only three months younger) I have to concede the point. I know darn well though, that I am not always wrong.

I don't really know how to rectify this problem. I try to keep my brain alert by doing crossword puzzles or other word puzzles. I read. I write on the computer here in my blog, although I haven't been very good lately, I go to another blog, I keep up with friends on Facebook and I sometimes read the newspaper. I don't know what else to do to keep my brain active. I guess I'll just have to accept that sometimes I am going to drive everyone nuts by repeating myself. I am not an elephant so I do forget.

Criticism

2009-07-22T08:02:00.000-07:00

Definitions of criticism on the Web:

a serious examination and judgment of something; "constructive criticism is always appreciated"
a written evaluation of a work of literature
wordnetweb.princeton.edu/perl/webwn
The word critic comes from the Greek κριτικός (kritikós), "able to discern" , which in turn derives from the word κριτής (krités), meaning a person who offers reasoned judgment or analysis, value judgment, interpretation, or observation . ...

I have chosen only two of the four or five definitions of criticism which suit my purpose. When regarding literature or one's writing I prefer these definitions. This is the kind of criticism I wish to have when one is looking at something I have written.

As was pointed out recently, writing is very personal. It is also very subjective. This makes an unpublished writer quite susceptible to harsh criticism. This type of treatment may be enough to convince the scribe that they have chosen the wrong profession with the result that we may lose someone with a great deal of talent .

In my opinion it is important to point out all the positives of one's writing before trying to assist with ways to improve the piece. Word choice here is very important. If you can find things to like then that sets the mood for "constructive" critiquing. I for one am quite willing to have someone point out ways to make an article or scene stronger if first the person making the suggestions has given me a reason to believe it is worth the effort to fix it up.

Although I have been published in newspapers, big and small, I have not written fiction before attempting to write a romance novel. I had no difficulty getting the story down but I have had a great deal of trouble trying to make it a less formal piece. Because I really like the story and have received some encouragement in that regard I may pick it up again to finish editing it. That may not be for awhile for I have been goaded into changing my focus to writing small personal articles in the hopes of amassing a compilation for a book to be published.

Writing fiction is much different from writing fact-based articles. I still have a lot to learn. I am counting on those in my writers' groups and readers to help me by giving me their "reasoned judgment". Telling me what is good and what would make the article go from 'just okay' to 'terrific' would be the greatest way to inspire me to continue.

Vanity

2009-07-15T16:27:00.000-07:00

I have decided that I am very vain. I have just spent a great deal of time going through photos to make a small album of my life for my friend Betty, whom I mentioned in the last post. I discovered numerous pictures of me both as a small child and as a wife, and mother.

I have been small and big and I'm not talking about age. I have always been a little over-weight with the exception of when I was a child. As my grandmother always said, I was "big-boned". But as I tried to select pictures from each decade I deliberately set aside the ones that particularly showed that.

We have many photo albums but luckily, I do not appear frequently in them. I hate to have my picture taken at the best of times and certainly not at the worst. The worst being when I am particularly "large". My family has been aware of this and very kind about it too. They do sneak a shot in once in awhile but I have hidden the latest ones. Why? Because I'm very vain.

"Vanity is the excessive belief in one's own abilities or attractiveness to others." That is Wikipedia's definition and one with which I concur. I am concerned with my attractiveness to others. I like to know that when I go out I am dressed well and appropriately for each occasion, partly in order that my husband will be proud of me but mainly for my own satisfaction. I want to feel good about myself and knowing that I look good does that for me.

Lately it has been very hard to achieve a sense of "looking good" when through no fault of my own, but for medical reasons, I have ballooned in size. Nothing seems to fit right or feel right. I sometimes feel like I should wear a sign saying "this is fluid not fat". I know that I sound like I'm whining and I guess I am.

I don't like that this bothers me so much because I know it is who you are as a person that is the most important quality but as I said earlier, I want to look good too. For that reason I chose my graduation photo from University in 1989. I could have picked my wedding photo or the photos taken during my pregnancy with my daughter or son. They were good ones as well. But this photo is one of my favorites. It not only shows me in a thinner period but I can boast that after hard work, under difficult circumstances, I got my degree at 48. So you see, I am vain using either of the two clauses in the definition.

Childhood Memories

2009-07-07T16:56:00.000-07:00

On the weekend I will be seeing a woman who was so important to me as an infant that I should never have let life get in the way of staying in contact.
I have not spoken to her for well over 50 years but talking to Betty tonight brought back comments and memories of such affection and love that I was reduced to happy tears.

This woman and her husband nurtured me for quite some time while I was a very little girl...so little that I remember the time in bits and pieces. I will have to check with her but I believe I was two or three at the most. Apparently they took care of me during the war while my mother worked and for some time I stayed with them on his parent's farm(Momma and Poppa's)until Betty and Del got their own home. Some of these times came flooding back.

--I remember Del building me a swing on a limb of the big old tree in their front yard and he and Betty pushing me "up to the sky". I reminded Betty of that tonight. She had forgotten.

--Going to the farm with Momma and Poppa and being chased by the turkeys. I hated and feared the old turkeys. I have never minded eating turkey since.

--Being in the old farm house kitchen with such wonderful aromas that I can almost smell them now. We got to eat the apple peelings for the pie apples.

--Watching while Momma 'laid up' many, many jars of fruits and vegetables. There were no freezers as such.

--It was always the same too in the big white house on Queen Street. Whenever I would go Momma always had cookies or some other delectable thing baking. Her houses were always welcoming.

--On the phone tonight Betty told me of Poppa always rocking me in the old rocker and singing "a song about an apple tree-- over and over". Now my daughter, and I too, know why I liked the song "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree With Anyone Else But Me" so much.

When Betty and Del had a daughter of their own they named her after me. Surprisingly she looked a little like me too with the same blond hair and blue eyes.

I have never known for sure how long I was with this wonderful family, or even if it was just a daycare thing or overnight and Betty is at an age where she is not certain either,but I find it easier to remember that age with them than with my own family. No one in my family ever talked to me about it. I do know that my father was overseas at the time from letters he wrote to his mother.

I had tried once or twice to find them but only knew Del by a nickname and Momma and Poppa were gone.
I was messing around on Facebook one night and decided, out of the blue, to type in their daughter's name. I found it attached to an obituary for her father Del. I contacted the funeral home who gave the message to Jane, Del's daughter.

Unfortunately I had waited six months too long to reconnect with these wonderful people. I never got the chance to let Del know how much he meant to me. It just proves that we should not wait to connect to ones we love or those whom have had an impact on our lives. As the adage goes you can only be sure of today. Tomorrow may be too late. In this day and age of fax, telephone and email there is no excuse.

Here I go Again.

2009-07-02T20:39:00.000-07:00

Once again I have picked up my first major work in progress, commonly known in the "industry" as my WIP. The good thing is I really like the story. The bad thing is it needs work. Maybe lots of work.

I have been told that I write very formally so I will have to change that by making more contractions but in all honesty I tend to write like I talk. Until all this was pointed out to me I had no idea that I did this. It's funny because as I read over the last two sentences I saw that I was still doing it. I'm not sure that I have always been so formal or if it is a result of attending university in my forties. Whatever, it is going to take some time to fix this.

It has been suggested that I need to make my heroine a little stronger. Instead of crying over the problems with the hero she should possibly be angry or use some other emotion to get the point across. I think I can do that. After reading over some of the important scenes I can see how the recurring flow of tears could be a turn off for the reader. I'll have to work on that.

There is one important thing I need to do. Most of the work is done in conversation. It will be necessary to put in some introspection and more description I guess. This is something that I will only be able to decide as I re-read the work.

I still have problems with 'showing', a good thing, and 'telling', not so good. I had someone read a scene from my work at our writers' meeting to see which the scene was doing. Luckily I learned that that particular piece was 'showing'. What a relief. Phew! Just a few technical suggestions. It was nice to know that it was also well received as a good bit of writing. That's great because I really liked that scene. One scene down. Two hundred or so to go.

Community

2009-03-16T17:43:00.000-07:00

The Canadian College Dictionary defines 'community' as: 1. a group of people living together or in one locality and subject to the same laws, having common interests, characteristics etc. 2. the district or area in which they live.

I would suggest that when it comes to the military, police or fire fighters this does not go far enough. In my experience the military community suggested family. A closeness that I have read only exists in the other two groups. Whether it is only because in these groups you must 'have each others backs' in perilous situations or just the fact that it is possible you will be put in such circumstances I don't know. I do know that for me the military became my family. I served in the Canadian Air Force for three years working in a radar tower watching and plotting aircraft for NORAD. Even though it was my first time away from home I loved my job and the people I worked with. As the definition says we had many common interests.

Then I married an airman and through 22 years we stayed involved with the air force and again wherever we went we were folded into the 'family'. I learned to be very adaptable as did our children as we moved from base to base. The three years we lived in Germany was a wonderful experience even through the Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia and the invasion of our base supposedly by a member of the Bader Meinhof gang.

In Canada we clung together with our members during the horrible days of the crash on our base and the loss of three men. It seemed that everyone congregated at the arena and then the snack bar, in common grief. It was a terrible time and especially when it happened when my husband's aircraft was due to land and there was some confusion as to who was involved. We pulled together and got through it, helping one another and those involved who were injured.
You do not forget that kind of closeness. It is a very tight group. Being away from your family the people you are with become your family, bolstered by your common experiences.

It is for this reason that I still feel very close to the military family. I can relate to the wives who watch their husbands board a plane taking them off on a mission, some into war zones. I have been there. I understand the long wait; the days and nights wondering what he is doing.

I cannot know what the military widow is feeling but I ache for the families and what they must be going through each time the news reports that we have lost another mother's son. It is for this reason that I felt I should take the time this week to pay my respects to our fallen soldier, a dear friend of my son. It was not my first military funeral but I hope it will be my last. The solemn drum beat, the slow march, the tolling bell and the flag draped coffin brought back memories of other military funerals, of other lost friends. As the tears fell and we said good bye to Dennis I prayed to keep our soldiers safe. They are family.

TARA

2009-01-08T16:40:00.000-08:00

I lost a good friend on Friday. Tara was my 13yo German Shepherd. She would have been 14 on January 17.

It is hard for me to believe that in the beginning I didn't want this wonderful girl. I had just had to put Toby, my cocker spaniel down on the Tuesday and on the Saturday my DH and DGS tried to convince me that I needed this dog when we came to town to visit our family. My DD had sighted her three weeks before while working on a charity event for the Humane Society and had called and said, "Mom, there's a German Shepherd pup available and you know how you love German Shepherds...." I told her I didn't need another dog in spite of the fact that we were living on a farm at the time and had lots of room. "But mom, she's really cute and you'd just love her." I kept saying no.

Then after Toby died my DH was determined that I have another dog since I lived way out in the country and I was alone all day. No matter how many times I said "NO!" that Saturday we ended up taking Tara. We were staying overnight so my DD got permission to bath Tara at the pound and brought her to us on the Sunday.

It took me awhile to warm up to Tara I am ashamed to say. I was still grieving for Toby. Tara had the patience of Job and I guess she realized that I would grow to love her because one day she just jumped into my lap and that was it. I was hooked.

We have had some funny experiences with Tara. She loved to run in the fields at the farm. It was 200 acres with a woodland on it too. My DD came to visit with her dog one day and took the two dogs and my GDS for a walk into the woods where they found a marsh. DD threw a stick telling her dog to fetch it but before the other dog, Sam, could react Tara had leaped into the water after the stick. It was my dog that came trotting home covered in mud and foul smelling water but with a big smile on her face.

Tara was great at leaping. We had to put her into a kennel whenever we went away. When we went to pick her up the owner told us she had leaped the eight foot fence and gotten into the outer yard when she heard a car pull up. She thought it was us. We left her at that kennel several times over a period of 1 1/2 years as both our fathers were dying so that we traveled back and forth a lot. It seemed each time we returned there was another story of Tara leaping or climbing up the chain link fence trying to get out. The owner ended up putting a roof over her kennel. He never refused to take her though. He liked her.

Tara was afraid of loud noises. During thunderstorms her favorite place to hide was in the bathtub. We tried all kinds of things to help her get over her fear but nothing worked. The same thing happened with a car back-fire or fireworks. The poor dog was beside herself with fear. We never knew why.

I forgot to mention one of the funniest things that happened that involved DH, Tara and PennyCat. We inherited the cat from my DGS as Penny didn't like my son's new wife and stepson coming into their lives. Anyhow, one day DH was playing tug with Tara using a heavy toy rope. Tara was snarling and growling, as dogs do when they're engaged in this activity. Suddenly Penny jumped off the dining room chair and onto Tara's back. Tara didn't know what was going on. (Luckily Penny doesn't have front claws.) I took the cat off the dog and sent her away. Tara and DH started playing again and I have no idea where the cat came from this time but again she jumped on the dog swatting her hard on the nose, hissing and spitting. She was protecting DH from Tara.

Tara and Penny used to play well together after they got used to each other. Initially Penny hid under the couch and whenever Tara passed the cat would swat her. Then, the chase was on. First the dog would chase the cat and then the cat would chase the dog. The farmhouse we were renting was quite large and had long halls and a full finished basement. We would hear these two chasing each other around the house, having a great time. I think Penny really liked Tara though because every so often she would bring her a mouse.

Tara loved DH too. On the farm she would wait for DH to come home from teaching school and if he wasn't home when she thought he should be she would cry. She seemed to have an internal clock that let her know when DH was due home. When he appeared she would grab her favorite toy in her mouth and run to greet him, wagging her tail from side to side and also wagging it in circles like a plane's propeller. I don't think I ever saw a dog do that before.

I have been quite sick in the last few years and Tara was my unofficial "nurse". Before leaving for work DH would tell her to look after me. She took the job quite seriously. One of my problems is that if I bend down I black out or pass out. The first couple of times I actually went out, when I came to Tara was washing my face. Also I was told by my DH to stay in my chair until such time as my DD could make it over from work to stay with me. It was not unusual for Tara to jump into my lap and stay there for a half hour or more until I got the idea. Then she would lie on the floor on top of my feet.

It was because of Tara that we first learned our DGS, who was about six at the time, had inherited his Great Grandfather's love of puns. When he was visiting one time Tara was playing with DGS and Michael piped up, "Mama, Tara is Tara-rising me."

Tara was a very smart girl. She was a wonderful dog. I miss her terribly.

I'm Baaaack!

2008-06-12T14:40:00.000-07:00

For medical reasons I have been truly remiss in not keeping my blog up to date.
I have two epics, okay only short novels, in the works, both of which are not finished. I am having serious problems
controlling my hands with some pain as well.

I have only to revise my first book with the suggestions from my reader and it will be finished. I have been unable to do that but may be able to now. I would like to complete this project for several reasons. For one, I like the basic plot. My female character needs a little more backbone which should not be too hard to supply. I have a couple of small changes to make too and then it should be ready. I hope to finalize all these changes within the next couple of months. I would like to be able to send it out to a publisher by the fall.

The second project is truly in need of major reworking. I started this as a NaNoWriMo project but due to the numbness in my hands could not complete it. Although I have been unable to write I have been thinking about it, as well as the first project. This work is important to me as it does have a minor character who is autistic.

I spent most of my time during NaNo doing research rather than writing and I think the main plot got lost in the process. As a result I ended up with major "info dump" as my author friends have called it. I wanted so badly to make the autism part of the story that it almost took over. In effect I lost my focus which was the romance between the hero and heroine.

I think my order of business must be to revise the first project before going on to the second. The second story is not really fleshed out enough so that I am not sure how it will end. I have concentrated too much on the middle. Possibly it will mean throwing out most of what I have done and start again. I don't know, but I do want to be able to finish both projects at some point. Wish me luck.

Christmastime Carolling

2007-12-22T19:25:00.000-08:00

Hello all you jolly people. Get out your song books and join in to the carollers. I have hot chocolate and Baileys waiting for you when you are through. You CBs are great. Lovely voices. I hope I have successfully added a pretty picture to make you smile this Christmas. Sing out now and then we can enjoy a meet at the next blog. Merry Christmas to all.

The Best Laid Plans

2007-12-16T17:15:00.000-08:00

It had been my plan to finish NaNoWriMo with a glorious 50+K word count but alas the best laid plan of this personage was down the drain when I developed numbness in both arms and hands to the point of severe swelling and pain. So as a result I only achieved 28+K. I did a lot of research for this book and I guess I should have just written it and then done the research. I wasted time I didn't have but didn't know that.

I have decided to rest my poor hands and spend my time doing something I have neglected shamelessly for the past year when I was doing my other book. I want to read for pleasure. I have a copious amount of books that I have not yet read . Besides those I have here in my To Be Read pile I have all those being recommended to me. I look forward to spending my time doing that as typing, or I should say keyboarding, is causing more pain than I want to deal with. I will get back to you later.

BTW someone asked why I set this WIP in Ohio and I didn't set my book in Canada. I love my country but the target publisher is Harlequin American Romance because of the length of the book. I used what I knew about visiting Dayton and researched the rest.

Going to read now. ;-)

Getting there

2007-11-05T20:12:00.000-08:00

Well, it is Nov. 5 and I am at 10,596 words for NaNo. I hope I can keep up the pace. I'm not sure that what I have written is worth too much at this point as I am just putting down what comes into my head. As usual for me I have a lot of dialogs and they are sort of following a story line but there are a lot of breaks included.

I have left spots to fill in for a secondary character who is autistic while I do a lot of research on autism. I am trying to read books and do research on the internet. I may have bitten off more than I can chew but I want to do my best. If I feel I cannot be accurate about this disability then I will change or eliminate that character.

I also am trying to find out about fostering in the United States, in particular Ohio. As well, I am looking into adoption in that state. Maybe I am trying to cover too much territory but this is the way I seem to have gone. My characters tend to take over the keyboard every so often and what I plan to write is not always what comes out. I will keep you informed.

Actually, it has been a hard week. A friend that I have admired for her courage and sense of humour passed away this week. She was not a lady that I had ever met in person,but I felt I knew her well. Margaret has kept all of us laughing on another blog and one of her own for over a year. She will be greatly missed by many.

NaNo Again

2007-10-31T10:31:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, NaNoWriMo starts again and I am not sure I am ready. I have my main characters and I have possible secondary characters but am not sure of my plot outline. Last year I had the plot outline and the characters the day before it started.

I have chosen to have one of the secondary characters have autism so I have been doing research on that. It appears that is an affliction that is becoming more prominent or is it just that people are coming forward about it more? Anyhow I have been given good resources and I am looking at asking a friend for help whose adult son has autism. Another friend had given me the web sites to go to and books to read.

My goal is to post here more often as I go along and to finish the story in 50,000 words as I did last year. Last year's effort is now out at readers and I hope to have that out to Harlequin by the end of November or early December. The November deadline may be pushing it too hard if there are a lot of fixes to make. I will fix it though and then send it in. I really like the end result. Hopefully, I will feel the same way about this NaNo's effort.

Wish me luck!

Help

2007-08-24T17:25:00.000-07:00

“It’s a sad situation, Sam. You’re right. There’s a nasty custody battle too, so the boys really are in the midst of it. It’s very hard for them. You seemed to give them some fun though. Do you get a lot of cases like that,” Beth asked?

“Yes, we do. There are so many divorces these days that they’ve become the main source of income for most PIs. Of the ten new cases we got this week eight of them were to follow a spouse suspected of cheating, or to get information for a divorce case. It seems there is very little trust in relationships any more. The first sign of trouble in a marriage and we are called. As I’ve said the worst cases are the ones where children are involved. They can get really nasty. These are my least favorite type of case. It doesn’t say a lot for marriage, does it,” Sam asked.

“I think marriage is what you make it, Sam. It’s like anything else. If you want it to work you have to work at it,” Kate said. “My late husband and I were married for 24 years and we were very happy. Oh, we had our bad days, everyone does, but most of the time we were content with each other. I think that has to count for something.”

“I guess so, Kate but then you were married in the days when marriage was considered forever, whereas now, most couples are lucky if they make it past five years.”

“I think you’ll find a lot of people still work at their marriages, Sam,” Beth said. “But you’re right about the children. It’s too bad there isn’t some way to wrap them in cotton wool and protect them when their parents are at each others throats. I feel for Tony and Terry too.”

A little later in the same scene: A conversation between Stacy and her sister Linda.

When Stacy came back she found her family deep in a discussion about Sam.

“Boy, does he have a jaded view of marriage, Stacy. I think you’d better back off before you get hurt,” Linda advised.

“Neither one of us is discussing marriage Linda. We’re just friends. I’ve only been out with him once, really. You can’t count the day we met so much, or today either for that matter because he was busy with the children. The day we went for the walk was the only time we really had what anyone could loosely call a date.”

This is a scene from my manuscript in which I am trying to show that the hero--Sam-- is dead set against marriage because of what he has seen as a private investigator. I guess I could use some advice from Mallory here. ;) The scene takes place in the kitchen of the heroine's--(Stacy's) sister Beth and is a conversation between Beth, Stacy's Aunt Kate (her guardian when she was younger) and Sam. This is prompted by a conversation Sam has had with little twin brothers who are caught in the middle of a nasty custody battle. The purpose of the scene is to explain why Stacy's family is convinced a relationship for her and Sam will go nowhere as the result of what he has said about marriage.

As you can see I am having trouble showing that so I could use your advice. I don't think I have said enough to show her family how strongly he feels about marriage. In an earlier scene I showed how he felt about commitment. Later I go into his feelings again when they watch a movie but I feel this scene is not strong enough to make her family feel concern for her.

Any assistance you can give will be greatly appreciated.

Under the Big Top

2007-08-08T16:37:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching the film "The Greatest Show On Earth which brought back many happy memories for me. When I was a child of about eight my dad was a newspaperman who had to cover a story about the coming of Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus to our small city of Hamilton, Ontario. He talked to me the night before and asked if I wanted to go with him and watch them raise the Big Top. My older sister had already said she wanted to go so we got up at 3:30 a.m. to go with him. What excitement. There were men everywhere shouting orders and pulling elephants behind them who had large poles in their trunks. We had to scurry to stay out of their way. I was awe struck. These large beasts were the ones who did most of the work; pulling the lines, carrying the poles, raising the tent. What a huge undertaking it was. Slowly, ever slowly the large white canvas was raised. Then about a hundred men and boys pulled the ropes to make the canvas spread properly. It was a wondrous site for a little girl. We spent the whole day there and were given free tickets to watch the show for some small task we had done but I don't remember what that was. I am sure my pupils were dilated all day as if I had taken a drug. That was what the show was to me...a drug. The sights, sounds, smells and colours were meant to impress a child and they did. I oohed and aahed in all the right places and covered my eyes at the aerial acts and for the lion taming. It was a magical day and one the same circus would give me again many years later.

When I was a teenager (about 16) I bought a book called "Circus Doctor" written by J.Y. Henderson, the veterinarian for Ringling Bros. It was a wonderful book full of stories of the animals and their traumas. I loved it and wished I could hear more. Little did I know that I would get my chance.

Two years later Ringling Bros. came to Toronto as part of the Canadian national Exhibition (CNE) My father was working as part of the Publicity Department of the CNE that summer as he had in the past. I asked him if Dr. Henderson was still the vet for the circus and he suggested that I go over to their area and find out so he gave me a pass. I was a little nervous but I trotted over there as if I belonged and was told indeed Dr. Henderson was there and was immediately taken to him. I was tongue-tied. My first author meeting and I couldn't think of a thing to say. He took over and I was soon put at my ease while J.Y. (he told me I could call him that) took me around and introduced me to the aerialist that did the stunts for Betty Hutton in the movie and showed me the tigers that had gotten into a fight in New York City, as the female was in heat and one of the males had gotten loose and attacked another. He introduced me to many of the acts, including Emmett Kelly, the renowned clown and many other of the performers. It was quite a time. I went racing back to my father's office all excited and told him this man would make a great human interest story. He sent me over to the reporters but I was talking so quickly they had trouble understanding me. Finally they got the news out of me and one did go and interview JY for a story.

I spent the whole week's evenings with Dr. Henderson just walking around the grounds and talking. He had to stay close because he was still treating the tigers injuries. He was indeed a fascinating man and he could have written two or three sequels to his book as I told him. It was a very wonderful week for me. Dr. Henderson had great patience to spend so much time with a fan, telling stories and watching harness racing. As an adult now I can really appreciate his understanding and kindness.

I think it is truly sad that most children now don't have the Ringling Bros. experience. I know there are smaller circus that still travel around. There was one in our town recently but it is not the same grandeur that Ringling Bros has. I understand they are still working but now I don't believe they have the big top tent but use places like Madison Square Gardens. Like so many good things we had as kids it is an experience lost to children now.

On Age and Aging

2007-06-21T21:26:00.000-07:00

I have been feeling very melancholy lately. I was talking to my husband tonight about the way we used to turn heads when we dressed up and went out for the evening. Picture a curvy, blue-eyed blonde and her escort with burnished brown hair, bedroom eyes, luscious lips and a military physique. True romance novel figures. :) I was saying that it was too bad that our children were too young to remember us looking like that. They have seen pictures but it isn't the same. I guess I just wanted to revisit my youth. I am not sure what brought this on. Children probably don't want to think of their parents in this light either. Yucky stuff they used to say. I loved the yucky stuff...still do.

Isn't it strange that although I am 66 I still feel 18 in my head, in spite of the fact that I am aware that I cannot do the things that age group can. My daughter and I had this conversation just the other night and she pointed out that she wouldn't be born if I was only 18. I find it really difficult to think of myself as old as I really am. I can't imagine that my husband is that age either so I have a tendency to expect him to act like he is a young man and do work that he should not be doing.

I guess there must come a time when you feel and act your age. I don't know. I have been fortunate that for the past twenty years or so people have always said I looked much younger than I am. That has been quite a compliment and the reverse from when I was 18 or so. Then everyone thought I was older than my age. I would think any woman would be happy to hear these things. It used to "make my day". :)

Edward Henry Bickersteth, Bishop of Exeter (1825-1906) said of Age:

"Our years are like the shadows
The sunny hills that lie,
Or grasses in the meadows
That blossom but to die;
A sleep, a dream, a story
By strangers quickly told
An unremaining glory
Of things that soon are old."

That pretty well says it all, doesn't it?

Right in Front of You

2007-06-20T16:56:00.000-07:00

Here is a book written by my friend Jennifer Talty. I hope you like it. Reading the excerpt will make you want to buy it. I am really proud of Jennifer. Go and buy the book.
About Right In Front Of You:

Restless and bored, NYS Trooper Jared Blake accepts a transfer from his current position in Lake George. Jared lives on the edge and his present post just isn't cutting the mustard. Just when he thinks his life is as it should be, his long time friend is threatened by an unknown source. Jared has exactly two weeks to find out who is behind these threats. And in two weeks, he will lose his heart forever.

Ryan O'Connor has the world at her fingertips. She's strong, feisty and has everything she's ever wanted, except the right man. Jared represents everything Ryan doesn't want. He's controlling, overbearing and now he's moving. Having had a crush on him for years, Ryan decides to seduce Jared. What harm can it do? But when Ryan's life is on the line, she realizes Jared might not be perfect, but he's the perfect man for her.

Editing

2007-06-12T20:30:00.000-07:00

Editing is the process of preparing language, images, or sound for presentation through correction, condensation, organization, and other modifications--source Wikipedia

Editing is also the source of hair loss, lost sleep, lost relationships and a lot of lost words. That is, if the editing is of your own work in progress. I have been trying very hard to clean up or edit the book I wrote during NaNo, the one of which I was so proud. It seems there are a few problems. Did I say a few? To start with the language is too stilted. That may be due to the fact that I was looking for the required number of words so of course contractions, which are in everyday language, weren't de rigeur. That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it. It may also be due to the fact that at one time I taught English as a Second Language and it was fairly formal.

On re-reading the manuscript I discovered that I only had maybe two POVs for the hero while the women in the piece had many more. Some would say that was a good thing. Fixing that will also give me more wordage which could be good.

I decided that I needed to check the grammar too as I had a problem with subject and verb agreement in a couple of places. Mere oversights of course. I used the grammar feature on the computer until I got so frustrated that I decided to check it myself as I go along. Too many times the computer told me to change do to does whcn do was the obvious and correct choice. That is just one example. The computer was wrong more than it was right in this case. I don't know why.

The real problem here is that I don't really know what I am doing. I am trying to tighten up the piece because I want to be able to pitch it in New Jersey. Before that happens I need to special order some titanium to be inserted into my spine to give me the backbone I need to approach an editor or agent. Even though I like this work I don't know if I have the courage to try and sell it. What is even scarier is that I will have to ask for an interview appointment when I register this week. Oh help!

Moving

2007-02-10T19:10:00.000-08:00

I find myself doing something I thought I would not have to do again until I went into the Nursing Home because moving is not an event I recommend after the age of 25. I don't recommend it after you start receiving an old age pension. It is hard work. So many things to sort out, to change, to discard and to give away. That is just the prep work. Then you have the tiring stuff. Packing dishes is my least favorite thing but something I have become very good at after 45 years of marriage and 22 of those spent in military life which required a lot of moving. I have a lot of crystal and what we refer to as "good dishes" so they must be packed carefully. Right now I have about twenty boxes of varying sizes messing up my dining room and that is only from the crystal and antique plates in the glass portion of the china cabinet. The doors below when opened will reveal two more shelves of the same. Then we move on to the buffet which has all the dishes, chaffing dishes (love that name, sounds soooo posh) and both our grandmothers original platters from their first dishes. Again things that require careful packing.

Love the CDs, DVDs and videos. Just slap them in a box, seal the lid and done. I do mark the tops so I know what I have put in there. Books will be easy too. Since we are only moving across town it is simply a case of boxing them too.

The same will work for the pots and pans in the kitchen. Found a great new way to move kitchen dishes. Buy new. They are already boxed. We will give the old set of dishes to our local Community Care group to distribute to people that need them.

We have several bags of clothes, shoes and wool to donate there too. I finally gave up clothes that have not fit me for a very long time but I kept telling myself I would slim down to them again. I guess it isn't going to happen. I hope someone will get the same pleasure from these dresses as I did, the same for the coats.

Since we are moving to a smaller place we have to downsize all over the place, which at our age is a good thing. The one thing I have trouble giving up is books. I have books all over the house but I love reading which I had difficulty doing for awhile. Now I can read to my heart's content...once I finish working on my own book. Well, I guess I could do both. Read to learn how to make my book better...that's it. Maybe I can get to that in the next millenium after I finish unpacking.

Second Childhood

2007-01-24T09:06:00.000-08:00

I have decided that I am in my second childhood. I LOVE children's movies. I just went to see "Charlotte's Web" and I thought it was great and I intend to buy it when it comes out on DVD. I spent last weekend watching "Air Bud" and "Air Buddies" with my grandchildren then watching a six-hanky version of "Lassie" for which my granddaughter informed me I had more salt water in my eyes than she did.

I loved "Babe" too. The only Disney movie I was never able to finish watching was "The Fox and the Hound". I found it too violent. "Cinderella" is my favoritie Disney movie. In my bookcase I have all kinds of kids movies and I watch them even without the kids. For instance, "Beauty and the Beast" is another favorite. Although a lot of these movies have sad parts they always end up with a Happily Ever After ending. They make me feel good. It is someting I can do with my granddaughter. We cuddle in my chair covered with afghans and sing along with the musicals. It is a nice time. Something I did with the boys when they were younger as well.

Originally I told my husband I was buying these movies for the children but the truth is I buy them for me. I don't think I have fooled him a bit when it was me that wanted "Air Buddies" for Christmas and who was thrilled to receive "Shrek 2" last year. There is no help for me. I am stuck in a second childhood...and loving it.

Greetings

2006-12-22T19:56:00.000-08:00

virgin cherry bomb

Happy Hannukah Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Everyone.

Flower Power-December 16,2006

2006-12-16T17:02:00.000-08:00

virgin cherry bomb

I have had some feed back about the 'book' I wrote during NaNo. Generally the three people that have seen it say they enjoyed it but recommendations were made to make the work more 'saleable'. I am going to keep a disk of the original work because it is a first for me and I must admit that I am quite attached to it, probably in part, for that reason. I will try to work in some of the suggestions as part of a new challenge to take place in January as part of the Writer's group I belong to. My challenge will be to edit what I have written and accomplish so much each week.
haven't quite worked that all out yet but I will.

Merry Christmas Happy Hannukah and Happy New Year

Have a happy holiday season. I found this in a little book of D Phrases I bought and I think it is appropriate for this time of year. Unfortunately it does not give an author.

" Drive Carefully! If motorists would give more ground there'd be fewer in it."

I got this from Sheryl's blog and then went to the site and took the quiz. I happen to like snapdragons and roses and sweet peas and...you get the picture.
I hope this is right and that I am a good friend. I have tried to be in my life time. I do like to make people laugh and wish I could incorporate more of that into my writing. I think the gift of laughter is a wonderful thing, something that Jennifer Crusie gives quite consistently in her books.

I am a
Snapdragon

What Flower
Are You?

Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh."

50,142 Day 21 1:33 p.m.

2006-11-21T11:45:00.000-08:00

virgin cherry bomb

I am doing the happy dance. I finished the NaNo challenge with 50,142 words. I am still going to be writing because I have not finished the story. I have no idea how many more words are in there but I can't wait to find out what happens.I will check in with the NaNo computer until Nov.30.

I don't think I have a muse and the little creature that whispered the plot outline in my ear when I was napping has left me too but my fingers seem to know just what to write. As I think I said before I sit down to write one scene and a totally different one appears on the screen.

I am pleased to say that the one person I have let read a portion of this says she liked it and the way I showed the affection between the characters. Hopefully I have stayed true to my story and the characters enough to carry this along. I think I have but I am hardly objective at this point.

Well back to the keyboard.

Day 15 37,889 words so far

2006-11-15T22:12:00.000-08:00

virgin cherry bomb

Almost 38,000 words and I have finally hit the spot where I am going to drop the bomb on my heroine and tell her what she will not want to hear. I have this part figured out but I don't know how I am going to rectify the problem so that she takes the hero back. I guess this is not such a big deal since I didn't know how I was going to do this part either. It is like Sheryl keeps telling me, just write it. It just seems to come. I admit that some of what I have written is goig to end up in the trash bin but not all of it.

I think the basic story line is good. Just don't ask me to write a sex scene. I wasn't going to write any and I wrote one because it just came on the page. I guess my fingers decided it was time. It is awful though. I think it is. I will let someone read it eventually and see what they say.

I have not been feeling well the last few days so I have not kept up my word count by a long shot. One day it was only 586 words and another it was 777 words. I am still ahead of the game. I think I will make it. This conflict scene should take up a lot of words. And that is what it is all about. Putting the words on the page. Guess I'll just keep plugging.

Day 8

2006-11-08T21:36:00.000-08:00

virgin cherry bomb

Day 8 25,066 words. Half way there but I am having a real problem writing the love scenes, which in my case means boy kisses girl. Period. I asked Sheryl for advice since she seems to have no trouble writing really good love scenes. Her advice was to write the way it feels, emotionally and physically and mentally. Wow. So I decided that after she left tonight that I would do that. Didn't work. I only have a few kisses in the whole 25,000 words and I thought they were okay.

Passionately and ardently work for me but apparently (oops another ly word) not for readers or editors. I guess I will have to wait until I am ready to edit this to figure out how to do these scenes. I don't have any trouble doing the snarky sister scenes. Why do you think that is?

Day 5 of NaNo

2006-11-05T20:15:00.000-08:00

virgin cherry bomb
DAY 5 15,913 words. I can't believe it. I don't really know where these words are coming from. I sit down to write one scene and a totally different thing shows up on the computer. I keep saying I don't know where I am going next and then I suddenly have a new scene. It just comes. I hope this continues so that I can successfully complete the 50,000 words.

On another note I went to a meeting tonight with three other people registered for NaNo in this area. It was interesting to hear the different ideas for stories. One girl Liv, has been doing Nano for four years. She says she got to 25,000 words last year and got a concussion and was unable to finish. That must have been hard to take. Each of us has reached a different word count, of course, and I find I am in the middle range of the group. One of our number has not written anything until tonight, when he got prodded by threats of being stuck with a fork. They seem like a nice group of people and it is good to have someone close by to give encouragement besides my husband and daughter.

I am going to keep plugging away. I really would like to complete the challenge and possibly get a novel out of this. So far it looks promising. I just have to keep at it. Wish me luck.

NaNoWriMo Challenge Update

2006-11-02T22:00:00.000-08:00

virgin cherry bomb

Well, it is Day Two and my word count is 6,982. I am very happy about that but I know there are going to be days when I cannot come up with a complete sentence. I am just going to keep writing as Sheryl keeps telling me. I also remember Bob Mayer saying that in New Jersey. Just write it.
I am really excited about the story so far. It just seems to be coming to me. I never know what I am going to say next and then there it is. I hope this keeps happening. I have one character that provides the snark and I love her. She helps me get from point a to point b.
I wish all the other NaNo people like Dee and Christina, good luck. I hope we can all do the 50,000.

NaNoWriMo Challenge

2006-10-30T08:31:00.000-08:00

virgin cherry bomb

I have decided to take the NaNoWriMo challenge and write 50,000 words from Nov.1-30. I have an idea of what I would like to write and I am excited about it. Wish me luck.

I loved going to New Jersey for the NJRWA conference. I met a great many people thanks to the Flamingo eye patch and Flamingo bag that Dee gave us. Since networking is an important part of that event I guess I did all right.

I finally got to meet Nancy Herkness. What a sweet woman she is and interesting too. The Cherry Bombs loved her. I am hoping she can get these two books she has written published soon, as I am waiting to read them.

I went to Jenny Crusie and Bob Mayer's workshop and loved it. It was funny but also very helpful. I took copious notes there and at Bob's workshop too.

I felt I learned a lot at the conference and had a great time, especially meeting the Cherry Bombs. What a great group of women they are. I feel like I have known them for a lifetime. Thanks Dee, Mcb, Robin S and Kim, Dee's friend who is also a real sweetheart.

Got lots of books to read too. I now have a big TBR pile.

From now on I think you are going to have to put up with my ramblings as Michael is now too old for his grandmother to be putting "little kid" stories on the blog.

I had reached an impasse in my WIP but got some good advice from a writer I met in New Jersey. She said that when she has a block it is usually because she hasn't developed her characters well enough. I thought about that and realized she is right so I will work on that after I do the November challenge.

Will try to let you know how I am making out on the challenge. Stay tuned.

Sarah

2006-09-10T18:10:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of Princess Sarah. She attended a Celtic Festival with her Aunt Sheryl and friend Jeanie. All three dressed for the festival and had their picture taken by one of the organizers to be put on the Festival website in a few days. Sarah is our three year old granddaughter, Scott's little princess. She is also the one that calls me "Scooped Up Cherry Bum" instead of scope dope cherrybomb. She is a very happy little girl who sings and talks ALL the time. We love her and her brothers very much.

The second picture is Sarah and a friend doing the Highland Fling. Sarah had never done it before so her friend was teaching her. She remembered it pretty well. Enough to demonstrate it to her grandfather and me several times.

Scott

2006-09-10T17:35:00.000-07:00

Here is a picture of our son Scott as he is in full camouflage gear. He is a member of the Canadian Forces Army Reserve and very proud of it, as we are of him. This weekend, Sept. 06 he is away on manoevers with the Army. In his other life Scott is a banker. He has a wife Nicki and three children, Michael, William and Sarah.

Cherry Magic Sheryl and Ky

2006-08-02T10:06:00.000-07:00

This is what an Australian Shepherd/Border Collie cross looks like. Ky is very much an Australian Shepherd in markings.

This is also what a Cherry Magic Sheryl looks like. /,D

Pretending

2006-07-18T13:55:00.000-07:00

virgin cherry bomb

*****Note: When this was written Michael was our only grandchild until William came along six years later. While Michael seems to be the deep thinker, William is the real sportsman of the family. He likes baseball, soccer and swimming. He does the best monkey imitation I have ever seen. Both boys adore the last addition to the family. Michael got his wish when his sister Sarah was born. Sarah is the happy, bouncy child. She never stops, either talking or singing.

Michael is now a teenager and William is on the verge (12). Sarah is four. We love and enjoy all the grandchildren and their individuality. At this rate they will give me lots to write about for years to come.

An only child, at least for now, Michael changes the size of his family regularly. His desire for a sister has produced anywhere from one to five female siblings at the drop of a hat. Keeping up becomes quite a challenge.

An animal lover of the first order, Michael also has had a pretend dog which he named "Chitid". Don't ask. I don't know where he gets the names. This particular moniker was a great source of amusement for the family until my son actually had a guest register at the hotel in which he worked under the name "Mr. Chitid".

A sometimes farmer, Michael has five farms, only one house though. When we went to Wonderland for the day Michael informed us that the farm was `open' but Jordan, his pretend friend, and his sisters, were looking after the animals. Another time `bad guys' had come and killed all the animals, but, we were told, Michael had called the vet and `they're all better now'. Would that life and death could be so simple.

This past week Michael and his `Mampa' had to take our car in to be fixed. (It's a guy thing, you know.) Well, our little blue Sprint became an 18-wheeler while at the garage. Quite a trick, don't you think? Any time after that, when Jim and Michael went anywhere alone they were truck drivers. Imagine my surprise when on the next trip we went together, I was told to sit in the back because Michael had to help Jim drive. When I refused to fold myself in half to climb into the back seat I was told that was `okay' because now we were on a fire truck and Michael had to work the siren. Since we were leaving Newmarket and heading for Keswick I knew I could not participate in the charade that long. My ears could not stand the undulating sounds emanating from the back seat. I tried, in true adult fashion, to employ logic, in an effort to preserve my sanity.

"Michael, we have reached the fire now. Let's put it out." That didn't work because in Michael's logic, we had not stopped driving. Sometimes reality becomes very convenient for this little person. Once more I tried. (I don't give up easily.) "Michael, if we take too long to reach the fire the house will have burned down."

The response: "That's okay, Mama. The firemen will build a new one this afternoon." The siren continued all the way home.

That trip became almost as bad as the one on July First when we covered the same ground listening to Michael sing his favourite song, "Oh, Can-da-da". Unfortunately, those were also the only words he knew.

This summer we have played a lot of pretend games as well as real ones. We have had sharks, dinosaurs (several types, of which Michael knows the names...I don't know how), any number of different farm animals, farmer and tow truck driver. That was one of my favourites. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Michael said he took his tow truck to jobs in Africa. The remainder of the weekdays were spent on calls around the rest of the world.

I will be very sorry to see these little characters disappear, as we all know they will. I am sure their removal from his everyday life will herald an end to a time when trips to Mama and Mampa's house are the highlight of Michael's summer `baycation'.

Miss Piggy

2006-07-16T09:03:00.000-07:00

virgin cherry bomb

A Penny For Your Thoughts

Do you ever do anything on a whim? I do. All the time. Sometimes it works out really well and others....

I really enjoyed the time I spent working as adult liaison between the Ministry of Education and a youth group while we were in the Maritimes. I was never totally sure what those teens would throw at me next, and, they didn't always know what I would do either. We had a lot of fun, partly because they were a really nice bunch of kids and I had a lot of `kid' in me. It was that `kid' that brought on one of my most famous, or should I say infamous, whims.

A costume dance had been planned to encourage new membership for one of the group's posts. The theme was to come as the person you most admired. I had not intended to `dress up' but at the last moment I changed my mind. I had no idea what to wear since I do not keep costumes around the house, at least not in my size, and I did not have time to go rent one. Then, I remembered someone that would be very easy for me to impersonate. I had the proper figure--Rubeneseque, the proper dress, a straight purple evening gown, long, white evening gloves and a string of pearls. All I really needed was a blonde wig. Since I had also been helping the drama teacher at the local high school I approached him with my idea and asked if he could loan me a platinum blonde wig. After he stopped laughing he found an old mannequin's wig that was too dishevelled to use any more. Only one step left. I needed a `nose job'. Taking an empty toilet paper roll, I cut it in half and then covered the piece with pink lining material. Black Magic Marker provided the nostrils. Now, how to attach it? Using Crazy Glue did not appeal so I used fishing line which I threaded through the sides, to tie at the back of my head, under the platinum locks. My costume was complete, a little sleazy due to the wig, but complete.

The night of the dance I approached the school gym by a back door, checked my gown (it was a little snug), adjusted my toilet roll nose and bravely marched through just as my idol, Miss Piggy, would do. Twirling my pearls, patting my curls, I strutted around the outer edges of the darkened dance floor. I guess you could say I made quite an entrance. People stopped in their tracks whether walking or dancing, conversation ceased except for the question, "Who in the heck is that?" My children knew but they were sworn to secrecy or face the consequences.

I was sure some of the older girls were about my height and I hoped there was no way to be certain if the dress was `artificially' padded. I knew that if I could avoid talking I would fool them for a little while. (Anyone that has known me at all is aware that the not talking was the hardest part). There was only one other thing that could give me away. I have a very distinctive laugh. Unfortunately for me one of the older boys, guessing correctly, approached me from behind and tickled me. Of course, once the secret was out everyone said they knew all the time it was me because in their minds I was the only one crazy enough to pick that character. It gave me great pleasure to note that one young man, whom I knew to be very unhappy at the time, was laughing uproariously.

Since Miss Piggy was such a great success with the younger half of the group I decided to bring her out of the closet a couple of months later at the seniors' Provincial Conference. This would involve teens that would not have been at the dance so I knew she would be a complete surprise. I enlisted the aid of a six-foot five, skinny blond 18 year-old. Gary was to be my Kermit for a duet of `Tea for Two' during the Gong Show to be staged on the Saturday night. He was a great sport with a good sense of humour so I knew he would not object to creating a few laughs. Did I say a few? Can you imagine how we must have looked? I was only 5'4", and as I pointed out, pleasantly plump. Gary was dressed entirely in green, only adding to his height, with a green balaclava and homemade green, felt, webbed feet worn over his shoes.

No one was to be told anything about our act so only the name of the song and the fact that it was a duet was to appear on the programme. Contestants were to appear backstage just before they were to go on. We were standing in the wings when we were first spotted by the “gongers” on stage. They had a very difficult time controlling their mirth and due to stage fright so did I. Then I noticed one of the girls frantically waving at me to get back. I didn't know what she was trying to tell me. Her arms were waving wildly from the stage and she was trying to convey some message just as my partner, Gary, was about to go on stage. Then I heard this loud guffaw to my right, in the corridor leading to backstage. I was horrified! My husband, whom I had not seen for the three months he was on a military course in Kingston had come home three days early. Knowing I was at the conference he had come to surprise me. Since he was by now sitting on the floor in gales of laughter I was not the only one surprised.

Rita knew that Jim had been away and she had been trying to warn me of his arrival. I don't know. I think it turned out better this way. We certainly livened up the conference. Our surprises were the talk of the weekend. Jim still likes to tell how he came home to Miss Piggy.

Miss Piggy would return again. Twice more in fact, one time being at an International Conference in Boston but...that's a story for another day.

Dogs

2006-07-15T14:39:00.000-07:00

virgin cherry bombDogs
This is a picture of my beloved dog Tara. She is my buddy and my friend. You will find out more about her further down in the article. She is so black she hardly shows up but it gives you an idea of what she looks like.

From an early age I have been a great lover of canines. Having had a plethora of dogs through the years I feel a little like an expert on the species. Have you ever noticed that, just like humans, each dog has their own distinct personality? Every dog we ever had was as unique as the proverbial snowflake. Let me give you some examples.
Peppy, my daughter's first dog was from a litter with a pure-bred black, cocker spaniel mother, and we later learned sired by a big black labrador. Thinking we had a spaniel puppy we had his tail bobbed, as you are supposed to for this breed. Peppy never grew larger than a cocker spaniel but he had the voice of a Great Dane and a Labrador's coat. He loved my daughter to distraction and became a great companion and protector of her. We lived at the end of a cul-de-sac, on the edge of a ravine, so it was quite common for the dogs to run loose on the property. We were all outside one day when my husband decided to take our daughter to the store. As he started to back the car out he saw a black blur go past him as Peppy leaped through his open window and landed on the back seat beside our daughter. We learned that there was no way she was going anywhere without him.

Another time my husband was lying on the floor playing with Sheryl, who had just learned to pretend to cry. Before we knew what was happening, the dog had leaped onto my husband's chest and snarled at him, his teeth inches from my husband's throat. Annoyed at the dog for interrupting the game, my daughter smacked him on the nose and shoved him off. Confused, the dog slithered to the corner.

Sheryl and Peppy shared everything. If she had an ice cream cone, either Peppy had his own or she gave him half of hers. When she discovered a love of pepperoni, Peppy got half.

Our little girl was the love of Peppy's life and he demonstrated that over and over. One time while we were visiting relatives Sheryl's ball rolled into the street. Before I could stop her she darted out to retrieve it. The dog saw the oncoming car, ran into the road and shoved Sheryl out of the way. Thankfully, both were safe.

Just before I had our second child an edict came down from the apartment building's superintendent that dogs were no longer allowed in the building. That caused quite a dilemma for us and all the other owners. The choice was to move or get rid of the dog. Finally my husband's parents agreed to take Peppy to live with them so that the two would not be parted completely. What a sad day that was. We timed things so that the dog left as our baby son came home, hoping that would give our daughter another focus. She has never been sure that a dog for a brother was a fair trade.

When we first moved to Germany my children were constantly begging to have a dog, any dog as long as it had four legs and a tail. Finally I succumbed and we bought a full-grown Airedale from a German man who assured us the animal was wonderful with children and very obedient. I should have known. Robbie, alias the dog from hell, led us around by the nose and very nearly cost us a fortune. We later found out Robbie had had five previous owners whom he visited every chance he got, and believe me he made the most of every opportunity to escape. Searching for Robbie became a way of life for us for awhile. Then we became the ones being hunted, for this dear animal had very expensive tastes, mainly for poultry.

In Germany at that time, if you or your animal killed a chicken you were liable for that chicken and all the eggs it might be expected to produce in a lifetime. Well, Robbie had killed five chickens and two geese when the locals started looking for his owners. Finally he was traced to our neighbourhood and the Bergermeister (or mayor) asked my landlord (his cousin) if he knew who owned the dog. Since Robbie had been missing for several days at this point Erich said with complete honesty that he had not seen the dog around. We never did learn what happened to Robbie but the chickens stopped disappearing shortly after this.

Then there was Tasha. `Little Tasha broken ear' we called her as a pup. One ear stood up and the other lay down on her head. Tasha was my son's dog, or so he says. I think she was mine. Part German Shepherd and part kangaroo (she loved to jump around) Tasha had a great personality. She was extremely empathetic. If someone was sick she would stay by their side constantly. If you were unhappy she would lay her head in your lap in commiseration. She loved to play chase in the house, but had a hard time stopping on the hardwood floors. This usually resulted in her sliding down the long hallway on her bottom until she was stopped by the carpeting in the spare room. Did I mention that she was a coward? She was afraid of thunder, afraid of heights and afraid of people. This great big dog would run if anyone challenged her. She would bark at the door at anyone who came near but if they opened the door and walked in she would run and hide. We had this beautiful creature in our lives for nine years before she died. She was a gentle dog and loved us all.

Then there was Toby. A copper-coloured cocker spaniel Toby ruled the roost. Maybe that is why a friend once said that when he died he wanted to come back as one of our dogs. Toby was very possessive. He felt his rightful place was lying across my lap, whether I thought so or not. He was really more of an over-lap dog but very cuddly just the same. He also liked to bounce and play. He would always return the toys I threw, and return them and return them, and return them, and.... It was hard to stop playing with him because `no' in this case, did not seem to be a part of his vocabulary. Toby decided that only certain persons could do certain things for him. To his mind, my husband was the one who fed him so, in the event that the job fell to me, Toby would not eat the food. He waited for my husband. I got to be his `pet'. I was allowed to provide the love and affection, though if he was on my lap and my husband leaned over to kiss me, Toby thougth he should get one too. He never convinced Jim of that but he was always working on it.

For the last eleven years we have had Tara. A black and tan, small German Shepherd. My husband insisted we get her just a few days after Toby’s demise and I was not ready. Despite my lack of enthusiasm, Tara managed to work her way into our lives and into my heart. She is much more than “just a dog” to me. She is my protector, my companion, my safety and my friend.

I have been sick for the last several years and when he goes to work my husband says to the dog, “Tara, you look after Penny”. That dog does not leave my side. She takes her duties very seriously, until either my daughter or Jim arrives. Then she is off duty and goes to her bed.

Tara’s biggest problem is that she is afraid of thunderstorms, fire works or any loud noises and she will jump into the bathtub. That is her sanctuary. It is a serious problem because we have had to sedate her for these occasions.

Tara’s other nemesis is Penny the cat. When my grandson had to give up his cat because his brother has asthma we agreed to take her. The cat had been named after me, which causes some confusion at the vet’s office and for Tara in the beginning. She never knew if Jim was calling me or the cat and neither did I.

One day, Jim was playing tug with Tara and her rope, when out of the blue Penny came flying out of the dining room and landed on Tara’s back, her front paws swiping at the dog. Luckily, Penny does not have front claws so there was little damage but the poor dog was bewildered. Jim and Tara went back to playing and the same thing happened again. That was the end of rope pulling in front of the cat.

Penny, often lay in wait for the dog under the couch and would jump out at her but now that they are both getting older this has stopped. The latest thing is that if Tara barks when someone comes to the door, Penny, who sleeps 23 hours a day, comes tearing out of the bedroom, jumps on the dogs back and starts beating her up. The poor dog does not know what she did wrong.

As you probably can tell, I love my dogs. I cannot imagine my life without one, although Jim says this is the last dog. This is the longest I have had a dog, either because of their sicknesses or accidents and I want her life to go on forever. Tara is my love and I do not want to think what I will do when the day comes that we must say goodbye. Until that day we are going to enjoy each other’s company and just keep on loving.

Put to Sleep

2006-07-06T12:25:00.000-07:00

virgin cherry bomb:
This took place thirteen years ago but I thought it was worth posting now since I have had a request for more "Michael" stories. Michael always said that Toby, the cocker spaniel was his brother so you can understand my concern when all this happened.

I had been seriously ill for the past three years. I had no idea how that had affected my little grandson, Michael, until the day we thought we would have to put our seven year old cocker spaniel down. Toby had been having difficulty walking and appeared to be in severe pain. Like his mistress he had been having medical problems for quite awhile.

I was very upset so I asked my son Scott, Michael's father, to prepare him for Toby's demise. I heard him explaining that Toby was very sick and would not be coming home from the Veterinarian's office. I knew that Michael would have a great deal of difficulty with this because he used to refer to the dog as his `brother'.
I went into the bedroom just as Scott had finished telling Michael in order to let them know that my husband and I were leaving to take the dog.
With tears in his eyes Michael looked at me and asked, "But Mamma, you're coming home aren't you?"

To Michael's delight, thanks to new medication, neither the dog nor I needed to be `put to sleep'.

Remembering Mama

2006-06-27T19:27:00.000-07:00

Remembering Mama

As I was preparing his bath one night, my grandson Michael came running in, gave me a big hug and said, “Mama, you are the best mama in the whole world.” I would like to believe that—who wouldn’t—but I have to disagree because my grandmother was the best mama in the whole world. She’s gone now, but never forgotten.

Mama (we pronounced it Momma) was quite a lady, in every sense of the word. She always dressed, walked and talked like a lady—so much so we secretly called her ‘the duchess’. She taught me a lot about ‘ladylike’ behaviour, some of which I didn’t heed at the time because I believed, like most teenagers, that I knew it all. I have since learned those ‘old-fashioned’ ideas still hold true today.

Most clearly, I remember how it felt to be held in her arms when we would come for a visit. Mama gave the greatest hugs. Not only that, she smelled wonderful, too. She was always so glad to see us, she would make each one of us feel as if we were the most special person in her life. All of her grandchildren were special to her, each one in their own way. You really had it made though if you were a girl. She had three sons she loved dearly but Mama always regretted not having a daughter.

Don’t misunderstand. The male grandchildren didn’t miss out. She had more patience than Job with the boys’ antics, like the time my brother took her only clock apart and then put it back together with three pieces left over.

We could do no wrong, you see. But, on the off chance that one did do something to annoy her, Mama had her own revenge. All her most prized possessions were reputed to have a person’s name on the back, to be given to them at the time of her death. If you made her angry she simply threatened to take your name off. (I checked once to see if my name had come off something I coveted. It hadn’t. It had never been there in the first place.) That became the family joke. “Watch out! Mama will take your name off of….

My grandmother was much older in years than I am now, when I came along, and I find myself wondering how she had the energy to deal with our noise and games. Used to living alone (she was widowed in the late ‘30’s) we must have driven her crazy with our antics.

One of the things my sisters and I liked to do was pretend we operated the elevator in the department store where my grandmother worked. Mama’s house had been converted into three apartments to give her some extra income so her inside door was quite heavy. This became the back wall of the elevator. This was before elevators had back doors. We then took the door from the basement and opened it to meet the opened door for the closet. This gave us our enclosed elevator. All right, so it was a triangular elevator, but we didn’t care. One of us would be the elevator operator and the other children there at the time would be the store customers. The fight was usually over who would be the operator, and believe me we would fight, quite vocally, over the job. Once that was settled the doors would close. When they opened again it would be ‘First Floor—Ladies Underwear, Shoes and Dress Goods.” The doors would close and then, “Second Floor—Ladies Wear, Children’s Wear,” (and usually in deference to my Grandmother because Millinery (her department) was on an in-between floor not serviced by the elevator) “—Ladies Millinery”. I wonder if she told the store’s owners about this game because they eventually did move ladies hats to the second floor.

My mom and dad blessed my grandmother with five grandchildren, four girls and one poor solitary boy. Can you understand why he sat quietly and took clocks apart? The noise we girls made, squealing as only little girls can, probably drove him to it.

However did Mama stand the invasion? We would all come running into the house, get our hugs and kisses and proceed to help my father go through the cupboards looking for the candies she hid. We banged her cupboards, ran up and down (and sometimes fell down) her stairs, tried on her hats, shoes and jewellry, all while hollering to each other about the treasures we found.

We loved to go through Mama’s attic. It was a real cornucopia of delights. We never got tired of looking through boxes in dark corners of the back closet. The only thing I didn’t like doing up there was sleeping. My oldest sister loved to give us the ‘screaming meemies’ by telling us ghost stories that usually included the attic closet as a setting.

Have you noticed how certain smells can trigger a memory? I cannot smell fresh lemon without it reminding me of the smell of my grandmother’s kitchen. Roses remind me of Mama’s favorite perfume. She used it in her bath, her soap and as a cologne. Maybe that is why I love roses so much.

Most of all I remember Mama for all the love she gave us, unconditionally. Nothing was too good, nor was anyone good enough for her family. Sitting in the porch rocking chair with her as a little girl was one of my favourite things. My sisters and I would fight for possession of the seat beside her, the losers being relegated to the wide arms. We would rock quietly (the only time we were quiet I think) until a neighbour came along. Then my grandmother would sit up very straight (ladies do, you know) and with the dignity of a duchess, introduce us, proudly stating that her family had come to visit.

So you see, I cannot claim to be ‘the world’s greatest mama’ because I still have a lot to learn. I’m trying, though, Mama. I’m really trying.

Geneology

2006-06-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

virgin cherry bomb

This is a poem I wrote as part of a Writer's workshop. The order was to write a poem and I was not big on poetry that wasn't written by Robert Frost so I had my doubts. Since I was very big into geneology at the time this was what I wrote. My brother put it on the family home page and a week later someone stole it and put it on theirs. Anyhow here it is.

Geneology
Oh woe is me, alas alack
I tried to trace my family back.
From generation to generation
Our family lacked imagination.
Conrads we had, one, two and three
Now maybe four, who knows, not me.
But as the list grows and grows
We realize there were more like those.
Friedrichs, Wilhelms, Johannes too.
Sorting them out is hard to do.
Even birthdates cannot be confirmed
When names were changed, quite often, we learned.
What were they thinking in ages past....
To make their names forever last?
Just when I think I know the score...
I find another. What a chore.
Oh how easier it would be
To make the search begin with me.

The Alien

2006-05-31T17:05:00.000-07:00

virgin cherry bomb

The little hand quivered as it tentatively reached out to explore the visage of the alien creature. Frightened, the child withdrew but ventured forth once more. He could touch it. Sure he could. Finally, with determined jaw and great intestinal fortitude he slowly cupped his little palm around the first frog he had ever seen. His reaction was immediate as he leaped back, giggling.

"That's awesome," he told his Aunt Sheryl. "Totally awesome."

This was written as part of an exercise at a writers workshop. The child was Michael, my grandson and he was two years old at the time.

Germany

2006-05-30T23:50:00.000-07:00

virgin cherry bomb

I married a military man, 44 years ago, and we have had a great life. We lived in Germany for three years which was my favorite posting and second favorite was Prince Edward Island.

In Germany we learned to speak the language as quickly as possible. Night after night I sat with my German landlord, he with his French/German dictionary and I with my English/French one. It was difficult but a fun time.

I also am proud to say that I got the keys to the city and a beautiful scroll(both of which where lost in one of our transfers) from a village very high in the mountains. Their children's choir had come to our air base to join with the Canadian children's choir in a musical evening when we got hit by a huge snow storm. I took the busload of German kids to the messhall for dinner, with the commander's permission. That was a riot. The mess was setting up for breakfast so, because it was cafeteria style they had huge bowls of fruit, crackers and especially of interest to the kids, small boxes of cereal. All of the bowls were empty in a flash with the booty being secreted in their back packs.

After their dinner we headed to the arena where my husband's team was playing hockey. The German kids had never seen a hockey game so they were very excited and extremely interested in what the black thing they were hitting was made of. I was able to obtain six pucks for them from the equipment manager which made them very happy.

I had told the children that they could not come into the arena until they could speak English, which had really deflated them. I explained that they had to be able to say "Go Blackhawks, Go!" That was the name of my husband's team, who were losing when we entered. It is amazing how having sixty kids yelling for you pumps up a team. The Blackhawks won.

Eventually the snow let up enough that the children could head home safely but we were invited to come to the musical afternoon at a later date, which we did. The village was extremely high in the mountains over a long, winding road but the scenery made one breathless.

What a time we had. We were greeted like heroes, every parent wanting to shake my hand and thank me for showing their children such a good time. Our children's choir sang several songs, one being Edelweiss and then we sat down to tables filled with all kinds of German dishes. It was wonderful and a good time was had by all. It was a wonderfully warm, friendly afternoon.

Imagination

2006-05-30T18:46:00.002-07:00

virgin cherry bomb

There is nothing I can think of that can compare to the imagination of a young child. Where do they come up with some of their ideas? Their creativity simply amazes me and, if I could tap into that, I would never be faced with a blank computer screen again. Unfortunately, as we grow older and are forced to face reality we tend to lose our ability to dream. What a shame!

Inasmuch as I believe in imagining I have always encouraged the children I have known in their pretend games, at least as long as I was sure they knew we were pretending. For that reason when my son told me three-year-old Michael had a `pretend' friend named Jordan, I was delighted.

Jordan went everywhere with Michael for awhile. At times it became very disconcerting for us adults to be told that we were sitting on Jordan, or had closed the door on him. Jordan's appearance and age would change quite frequently as well. That did not matter to Michael. This was his special friend.

There was no task Jordan could not handle either, whether rowing a boat that consisted of four pieces of paper on the living room floor or taking care of Michael's vast `farm' holdings. Sometimes when my brilliant little grandson comes to visit Jordan stays home to look after Mummy and Daddy or is delegated to be any place Michael can not be but feels he should.

The row boat incident became a sharing 'lesson' for me. Michael put the papers on the floor, making sure they were in proper alignment. He then asked me if I would like to come on his boat. Michael, being captain, sat in the front with Jordan manning the oars and I was tasked to row in the back. I was not aware that we were on any particular quest until Michael stepped out of the boat to go to the store. (Of course, any grandchild of mine certainly will always have the ability to walk on water.) It turned out to be a pet store. Michael approached the airtight stove (the counter, you see) and asked to buy a dog.

"How much is that dog? Twenty bucks? Okay, here," as he pretends to pull the money out of his pocket. The newly purchased "puppy" was placed carefully in the craft and Jordan and I were ordered to resume rowing. Four times we went to this store. Now we have four dogs, Jordan, Michael and me sitting in the boat. Finally, after admonishing me several times for sitting on the puppies, Michael, with a great deal of exasperation, ordered me out of the boat.

"Mama," he said, "if you can't stop sitting on the puppies you have to get out of the boat. You have to share you know."

Jordan is not Michael's sole imaginary playmate. An only child, at least for now, Michael changes the size of his family regularly. His desire for a sister has produced anywhere from one to five female siblings at the drop of a hat. Keeping up becomes quite a challenge.

An animal lover of the first order, Michael also has had a pretend dog which he named "Chitid". Don't ask. I don't know where he gets the names. This particular moniker was a great source of amusement for the family until my son actually had a guest register at the hotel in which he works under the name "Mr. Chitid".

A sometimes farmer, Michael has five farms, only one house though. When we went to Wonderland for the day Michael informed us that the farm was `open' but Jordan and his sisters were looking after the animals. Another time `bad guys' had come and killed all the animals, but, we were told, Michael had called the vet and `they're all better now'; would that life and death could be so simple.

This past week Michael and his `Mampa' had to take our car in to be fixed. (It's a guy thing, you know.) Well, our little blue Sprint became an 18-wheeler while at the garage. Quite a trick, don't you think? Any time after that, when Jim and Michael went anywhere alone they were truck drivers. Imagine my surprise when on the next trip we went together, I was told to sit in the back because Michael had to help Jim drive. When I refused to fold myself in half to climb into the back seat I was told that was `okay' because now we were on a fire truck and Michael had to work the siren. Since it was about a 32 kilometre drive from the mall to home, I knew I could not participate in the charade that long. My ears could not stand the undulating sounds emanating from the back seat. I tried, in true adult fashion, to employ logic, in an effort to preserve my sanity.

"Michael, we have reached the fire now. Let's put it out." That didn't work because in Michael's logic, we had not stopped driving. Sometimes reality becomes very convenient for this little person. Once more I tried. (I don't give up easily.) "Michael, if we take too long to reach the fire the house will have burned down."

The response: "That's okay, Mama. The firemen will build a new one this afternoon." The siren continued all the way home.

That trip became almost as bad as the one on July First when we covered the same ground listening to Michael sing his favourite song, "Oh, Can-da-da". Unfortunately, those were also the only words he knew.

This summer we have played a lot of pretend games as well as real ones. We have had sharks, dinosaurs; several types, of which Michael knows the names because his Aunt Sheryl taught him when he was a baby; any number of different farm animals; farmer and tow truck driver. That was one of my favourites. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Michael said he took his tow truck to jobs in Africa. The remainder of the weekdays were spent on calls around the rest of the world.

I will be very sorry to see these little characters disappear, as we all know they will. I am sure their removal from his everyday life will herald an end to a time when trips to Mama and Mampa's house are the highlight of Michael's summer `baycation'.

Michael is almost a young man now but we still have lots of fun. I must say I do miss Jordan occasionally and all his other friends.

Nancy Herkness, new author

2006-05-08T21:27:00.000-07:00

I wanted to let you know about a new author I have found. Her name is Nancy Herkness. She has had two great books published and I truly loved them both. Her first book is "Bridge to Love" and the second is "Shower of Stars". Nancy is currently working on a romantic suspense novel. Get both these books and enjoy!

Scope Dope Cherry Bomb (new name)

2006-04-23T18:08:00.000-07:00

Some of you might wonder where the name came from. In my youth I was a member of the Canadian Air Force and worked as a Fighter Control Operator. The other trades' members referred to us as Scope Dopes because we spent hours looking at radar screens. I loved my time in the Air Force and the opportunity I had to meet and speak with people all over North America.

I love Jennifer Crusie's books but have just gotten Bob Mayer's "Bodyguard of Lies" out of our library. I have been warned that Bob leaves you wanting more in this book since both my husband and my daughter have read it.
I will let you know what I think when I am finished it.