Tyler Colins's Blog, page 5

Gotta Gripe … Getta Grip

Gripe of the week/month/year: if you have a cold/cough, and you absolutely have to go to the gym (office, coffee shop, what-have-you), wear a mask and/or cover your mouth when you sneeze or cough, and/or stay a decent distance.

Last weekend, someone at the gym decided to spread the joy [of germs] and cough on yours truly. Guess who got sick as a result? Yep. So not amused.

Especially when the worst nosebleed like ever occurred, courtesy of said sickness. Called a neighbor because it just wouldn’t stop. Out came the icepack and a list of actions to abide by.

That, of course, resulted in a lecture about COVID.

“Did you get tested?”

“No, it’s a cold.”

“COVID symptoms are similar to those of a cold …”

“It’s … a … cold.”

“I have a kit. Test yourself.”

“…It’s a … COLD!”

Needless to say, the kit is in the cupboard because … it’s … a … cold.

So, while I gotta gripe about bad manners/etiquette and being sick, some people should not panic and getta grip.

My neighbor’s a lovely lady—who has very (!) definite views. Because mine differ vastly, I often receive the evil eye and a resultant discourse on why her view is the RIGHT one.

Once upon a time, I was equally adamant about certain things. But I learned [thankfully] that sharing [discussing] personal beliefs is much more agreeable than trying to impose them. I believe that’s called: r-e-s-p-e-c-t.

And on that note, I respectfully wish everyone a respect-filled weekend [and month] …

A Little Stocking-Stuffer Possibly? … or … Another Shameless Promotion

Next Chapter is running an upcoming discount for “Triple Threat Mysteries – Books 1-3” from December 23 to January 3 … for a mere $0.99.

Yeah, a bit early to post about it … but if you’re uncertain as to what to stuff a stocking with, perhaps you’ll put the book on your list.

As an FYI, the promotion’s active in all major marketplaces—including Amazon, Apple, Kobo, Google Books, and Barnes & Noble.

If you’ve read any of the Triple Threat Investigation Agency mysteries, maybe you’d be willing to provide a review on one (or all) of the store pages?

For those of you who’ve not read any of the mysteries featuring pretty newbie private eyes JJ, Rey, and Linda re “Triple Threat Mysteries – Book 1-3” …

The Connecticut Corpse Caper (#1): Stuck in a storm-bound haunted mansion, bodies begin to fall faster than you can say “timber” three times. JJ, Rey, and Linda discover they have an appetite for solving mysteries and the amateur sleuths fumble and stumble as they endeavor to finger the culprit who’s been felling guests like a saw-happy lumberjack does trees.

Can You Hula Like Hilo Hattie?: The gals did well solving the mystery of multiple murders in the Connecticut mansion, so much so, they decide to go professional. Off to Oahu they fly and set up shop. The Triple Threat Investigation Agency accepts their first case: determining the secret of a millionaire’s pretty, young wife. Before they can discover said secret, however, she’s found floating in the sapphire waters of the Pacific. The long list of perps proves daunting, but they’re up to the challenge—no matter how precarious it soon becomes.

Coco’s Nuts: The newbie P.I.s must prove their beautiful client didn’t murder two men. Not an easy feat when the evidence is stacked against her. One person who might shed some light is an odd little fellow named Coco, but he’s MIA. The detecting travels of JJ, Rey, and Linda lead them along a few detours, such as the world of gambling and limb-breakers. Can they solve the case before more bodies drop—maybe theirs?

Four on the Floor … What a Bore

Recently, my gym changed music vendor. Instead of a decent mix of music genres—something for everyone—we get techno/dance/house piped in. ALL THE TIME.

The 4/4 beat is enough to make me want to beat my head against the elliptical to the, er, beat.

For two hours every day, in tandem with fitness moves and grooves, there’s the pleasure of hearing the same relentless (mind-numbing) beat … with every other song sung by some young female … sigh … with the same relentless vocals.

The throbbing multiple-beat tempo of every tune would likely be more appreciated if yours truly were 25 and under … or at a rave or nightclub, once the ears [and brain cells] have been numbed with a ‘tini or three. The kick might then prove infectious enough to dance to (not).

This gal’s a rock-n-roller—give her a musician shredding a guitar, banging out the backbeats, engaging badass bass playing, singing from the heart and soul with a distinct, powerful vocal sound not enhanced by techno gadgetry.

To be fair, if we all liked the same thing, how bland life—and music—would be. Variety IS the spice of life.  So, here’s to musical diversity and no boom-boom-boom-boom 24/7.

The Shortest Post Yet

Never [ever] forget!

 

 

Fallin’ in Love with Fall … All Over Again

A bit behind schedule, my Halloween post never transpired. Didn’t even get a word on a page. So—scramble, scramble—just what should the [belated] post be about? Beats me … so I beat it out the door.

And took a long leisurely stroll through the cemetery.

It had always been the perfect place to unwind and de-stress—an opportunity to marvel at the beauty of nature, view magnificent birds, bypass a coyote or two, and feed the squirrels and chipmunks. Alas, when the City put a kibosh on feeding wildlife [or pay a hefty fine], I stopped walking there. I liked my furry friends. They liked me—or at least my offerings. I couldn’t go and NOT feed them.

And today, though many raced up to check out what I had [sadly, nothing, I apologized], I delighted in the afternoon constitutional. It led through crunching leaves and vivid foliage under a bright lemon sun, reminding me that I did so—do so—love this time of year.

Though not a fan of what follows fall, for a few weeks, I can happily embrace the swirling brisk breezes and swirling colors, and blustery Winnie-the-Pooh days. Too soon, they’ll pass, and frigid temps will roll in, the toque and mitts and flannel will be donned … and the teeth will chatter and cheeks and nose turn red. Brrrrrrrrrrr.

It’s all good though. Part of the never-ending cycle, at least in the northern hemisphere. [You know, to be perfectly honest, I could give living in all-year warm climes a definite try.]

Promo Time … Again

Been a while since I’m “promo’d” my Triple Threat Investigation Agency mysteries.

The Next Chapter Publishing Team has just joined with Google Books, which has a built-in audience of three billion active users with their Android mobile devices (kinda impressive, ain’t it?).

There’s a tiered discount system for customers who buy two or more books in my series.

2 books: 20% discount3 books: 30% discount4 or more books: 40% discount

(The discounts are doable as long as you buy two or more books in the series at the same time.)

As an FYI, the series revolves around three novice female private eyes—JJ, Rey, and Linda—who run the Triple Threat Investigation Agency in Hawaii. They’re pretty good (or lucky, some might claim) at solving cases that prove equally challenging and dangerous.

Per a review, there are some f-bombs and not everyone may like that. But I prefer characters who smack of realism (I’m prone to using it a lot and am quite content to do so). Though listed as cozies in some places, they’re not for those who are looking for a “virtuous” read … but enjoy wit and grit. You’ve been forewarned, my friends. 

https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=3RNUEAAAQBAJ

Music’s Forever … Life is Not

I wasn’t a huge fan of boy-band One Direction, but liked their innocuous, poppy music enough that I could listen to several songs in one go. That Liam Payne died at 31, and in such a tragic way, always gives one pause for thought. How frail and fragile life—we—are.

Chucking off the monkeys on our backs is never easy and for a few impossible (I’ve had one, so this I can attest). Whatever that addiction or demon or struggle is, it takes a tremendous amount of strength, resolution, and commitment to battle it. Some can do it alone, many can’t.

It’s a one-day-one-step-at-a-time endeavor where compassion and support, and help, are vital; family and/or friends and/or professionals can truly turn a life around.

We fly through life so quickly. One day, we’re 16, the next 35, and the next 60+ (if our ticket isn’t called in early). True, life’s not always kind—and for some, it can be one challenge after another—but we do have the ability to wrestle it head-on. Sometimes, we win. Sometimes, it does. It’s all good; it makes us what we are. It gives us dreams to strive for and achieve and be grateful for.

For those where peace proved elusive on this early plain, may they, like Payne, enfold it on another plateau.

Oh Yes! Can We, Can We?! Huh, Huh?!

When my friend RB invited me to go to Costco with her, I evolved into a tail-wagging, tongue-flapping pup. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, how exciting! A visit to the iconic warehouse-sized retail store!

As someone who shops at one of three [small] corner supermarkets (my eclectic—expensive—taste has long diminished), my eyes rounded like snowglobes upon entering the mega store that could host more than one NFL game simultaneously.

RB commandeered the mammoth cart befitting the store’s staggering range/options. Off we went on our afternoon adventure, traveling aisles to scope out offerings.

Like a child mesmerized by toys and treats, and someone with a sugar tooth, I found myself eyeing the sweets section. Would something catch my fancy? [Of course it would.] Hmmmmm. That pumpkin pie the size of an SUV tire? How about the carrot-walnut loaf as long as a baseball bat? Ooh! Cinnamon rolls as large as bowling balls. FYI: the panettone collection won.

Needless to say, the wandering eyes [and feet] resulted in the loss of RB. Great. Several minutes of unsuccessful searching brought a frown … and image: “We have a lost adult named Tyler. Would her companion please collect her at Customer Service?”.

Not much later, however, we reconnected and down the food aisles we continued to meander, avoiding collisions with carts being pushed with determination and focus—some stacked so high with items, they’d surely cause a mess of a collision [and potential pileup] should a rear-ender occur.

My intention had been to view the vast store and possibly purchase Himalayan pink salt. Did both (there’s enough salt for five years)—and more, as my building knapsack and shopping bag attested.

Sing Out Loud, Sing Out Strong

Ah, to sing … melodiously, mellifluously. To belt forth a tune with courage and confidence. A gift, to be sure—to possess a sweet-toned voice.

I believe most would agree that singing is an enjoyable if not therapeutic pastime; it lessens stress. If feeling low, what better way to raise spirits than a good song?

Confession time. I’d have loved to be a singer … a hard-rock goddess. None of this dancey, cutesy Barbie-voiced stuff. I’d be all about leather and bass.

“X”, a receptionist (a meeter-and-greeter as it were), plays fave music as she welcomes people, and sings with heart and soul, loudly and proudly. That “X” is terribly tone-deaf is neither here nor there. When you hear that strength of conviction, view the bliss that warms her face, you can’t wince or grimace. You smile and admire—cheer on—that poignant passion. And maybe … just maybe … join in the chorus.

On this sunshiny day, when things are looking that wee much better, there’s one song that springs immediately to mind, an oldie but a goodie, Katrina and the Waves’ “Walking on Sunshine”. That’ll put a smile on your face and dance in your step. As you leap about, holding that imaginary mike, sing out loud and sing out strong … add some harmony to your day and life.

Change of Course

Tangent post time. Time to double-back and enfold the positive. Two weeks of too much stress is fourteen days too many.

As autumn gives way to a sundry of stupendous colors, I have to give thanks for the season’s pristine beauty and the upcoming bountiful harvest: squash and cabbage, apples and cranberries and pumpkins (as in pies with mounds of whipped cream). Scrummy!

The frowns that hackers recently triggered have given way to smiles. Feeling fine [again].  And reflecting on the good things … and the simple things … like the pretty plants about the place.

Proudly and happily, I can officially call myself “Ms. Green Thumb” instead of “Thumb o’ Death”.  Prior to this year, if it had roots and leaves, after two days in my presence, it would end up black, brown, shriveled and most dead. A glance at a plant and … plonk … its demise was guaranteed.

Somehow, the Thumb o’ Death developed a nurturing ability—a reedy 3” potted plant manages to develop into a 3’ high flourishing shrub. Impressive. And hope-inspiring.

An implicit comparison, I suppose—of another talent that’s been “nurtured” for years. The ability to write. Time and application have improved it vastly. Now, the dream/hope is to become a successful published author known not for “grit with wit” cozies, but quirky “fantasytical” music-set tales.

Yep, a definite tangent post. A little bit here, a little bit there. But it’s so much more fun digressing than remaining on target.