Alexa Bloom's Blog, page 3

Blake’s Story – Is he like Justin Trudeau?

Ah...not exactly. I was reading an interview with Canada’s newly minted Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and his wife recently, in which she revealed that at the end of their first dinner date Justin said to her:“I’m 31 years old and I’ve been waiting for you for 31 years.”Wow. Real guys don’t actually say stuff like […]

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Blake’s Story

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Boxing Day Sales Hell

Why would any sane person willingly insert themselves in a shopping mall on the busiest day of the shopping year? People are tired, hung over, cranky, desperate. And yet, that’s exactly what I and thousands of other people have chosen to do today.

Maybe you’re shopping right now? Fighting your way through the crowds for that boxing day bargain.

In truth, the only reason I’m here, is because my twelve year old daughter begged me to take her and her friend to the shopping day sales. And God knows the only way I can survive, is to sit in the food court with my laptop, a big plate of food and even bigger cup of coffee. The biggest. I didn’t even know they made them that big. (Okay full disclosure. The Christmas cup might have runneth over a wee bit yesterday and I might be just the teeniest tad hung over).

The food court is busy. It’s only 11.07am, but the food lines are obscenely long and growing. I could become agoraphobic in a crowd like this.

I feel my blood pressure rising and take another sip of coffee, tamp down the anxiety. God, I hope there isn’t a fire–there’d be such a mass exodus of people fleeing the building, thousands would die in the crush.

Around me, people are eating, chatting, texting, fighting. The girl at the table next to me is passively aggressively ignoring her dining companion, who I already feel sorry for.

Our happy couple….not.

“Are you enjoying your meal?”  The guy enquires, sitting down opposite her.

“Hmmph.”

“That’s good,” He chirps. “Maybe we need to feed you, so you won’t be grumpy.”

No response.

“You’re always grumpy all the time.”  Trying-hard-guy (as I’ve come to think of him) says, but she doesn’t look up from her phone.

I sneak a glance at her. You might think he is needling her, but in truth, she does look sullen, and extremely grumpy.

“Are you still grumpy?” He tries again.

The girl, enjoying some real quality time with her phone, doesn’t deign to respond.

Checking his own phone, trying-hard-guy attempts a new topic.  “Mark isn’t answering.  I don’t know where he is.”

Good call Mark, whoever you are. For the love of God, stay away.  Stay as far away as possible.

“Can I get you anything else?”  He ventures.

“No.”  She directs the response at her phone, as if it were offering to grow legs and line up at the food queues for her. He timidly extends a hand and gently fingers the back of her hand.

Darn!  He is the boyfriend!  I feared as much, but hoped for his sake, it wasn’t true.  Dude!  Get out!  I want to yell.   You and Mark, get on the next express bus out of here and never come back!  It’s not too late!

Standing abruptly, sullen girlfriend manages her first two word sentence.  “Let’s go.”

Meekly, the guys stands, gathers her bags and quickly follows her disappearing figure. Another couple immediately replaces them at the table.

Glancing at my watch, I go back to my coffee.  11.12am.  Good God.

Wish me luck.

XXX Alexa

 

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Things That Make You Go “Ahhhh…”

You don’t have to be a horse lover to appreciate beautiful scenes like this, I know I certainly did and its one of the things that made me want to set my book Once In A Blue Kentucky Moon in a place just like this.

This kind of beauty can have a real power over people, inspiring them, particularly when threatened with the loss of their land and family home.

In Once In A Blue Kentucky Moon, the spell-binding beauty of these scenes at Lockwood Farm makes Blake want to fight to save the farm that means so much to him and his siblings – his father’s proud legacy to them all.

Beautiful Lockwood Farm is the home and hearth of the Harrison family.  Whether they still live there as Blake does, or not, sooner or later, it draws them back.  When the place you grew up is as beautiful as this, you just can’t help yourself.

Creating an authentic thoroughbred farm such as Lockwood Farm, entailed lots of reading and research, and of course, ogling lots of pictures like the one above – a real labour of love.  In fact, over the course of writing about it, bit by bit Lockwood Farm wove its magic spell over me, making me fall in love with it, just like the Harrisons.

I hope you’ll fall in love with it too.

XXX Alexa

 

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Introducing The Harrisons

Hi gang!

Contrary to my ‘about me’ page, I have been hard at work and am now proud to announce the release of my first book in The Harrisons series.  Blake is the eldest of the Harrison clan and I hope you’ll enjoy reading all about his struggles at beautiful thoroughbred stables Lockwood Farm.  If you’ve ever wanted to drive through the lush horse country of beautiful Kentucky, then Once In A Blue Kentucky Moon is the next best thing!

 

I certainly hope you’ll enjoy meeting and reading about The Harrisons as much as I’ve enjoyed writing about them.

XXX Alexa

 

 

 

 

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How the Oscars, Lady Gaga and One Puppy Led To Domestic Disaster

Picture this perfectly ordinary domestic scenario. I am unpacking the dishwasher. I have a number of above-the-counter cupboards open as I shuffle backwards and forwards from dishwasher to cupboard and back, ferrying clean dishes and cups to their respective destinations.

Perfectly ordinary right?

The oscars, as you know, aired recently.  To everyone’s surprise it turns out Lady Gaga can really sing…who knew?

Anyway, why is that relevant to the unpacking of the dishwasher, you ask?  I’m getting to that.

So…Lady Gaga sang a rather lovely ‘Sound Of Music’ medley and tribute to Julie Andrews, who later appeared briefly on stage.

My ten year old daughter, not old enough to stay up half the night to watch the oscars, had been eagerly asking about Lady Gaga’s appearance and which of her hits she’d sung. “Ah…none.”  I said absently, still briskly unpacking the dishwasher (see, I told you I’d get back to it).

“She sang The Sound of Music.”

“What sounds of music?  Did she sing Applause?  Did she sing Born This Way?”

“What? Ah no.” I said, still only half listening.  “The Sound of Music.  She sang The Sound of Music.”

“What’s the sound of music,” She asked, baffled by this obscure reference she’d never heard of. Now she had my attention.  I stopped unpacking, turned and faced her.

“It’s a really famous movie musical, lots of really famous music, like ah…like….you know….”

A light bulb of recollection went off in my head. And that’s when the trouble started.

Because then I started to sing.

It started innocently enough.  “Doh…a deer, a female deer” I began confidently, the lyrics rolling from my tongue as I sang a few of the famous lines.

Then another classic popped into my head and I segued smoothly into How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria, but soon realized the foolhardiness of my choice when I stumbled on lyrics that absolutely refused to materialize in my head past the first line.  I mouthed some garbled sounds to the melody, and not to be put off by my daughter’s contorted expression of tortured confusion, soldiered on valiantly.

“Muuuuum!” came my son’s disconcerted voice from the adjacent family room, where he sat playing a computer game.  “I can’t hear my game!”  He wailed. Unfazed, I pushed on.  I’d suddenly remembered one of the most moving songs of the film.  It would be my triumphant finale.

“Climb every mountain…” I sang with an arm flourish that would have put Pavarotti to shame.

“Ford every stream…Follow every by-way, till you find your dream.”

“Muu..uh…uuum!”  Came the wail from next door again, in three distinctly enunciated syllables.

I pressed on, repeating the words I knew in full booming, theatre-filling operatic style – they would soon appreciate the beauty of my rendition of this movie classic.

“Follow every rainbow…. “Mum, please…you don’t have to go on….really.”  My daughter said grimacing as though in excruciating pain.  “I’m sorry I asked.” She mumbled under her breath.

But there was no stopping me now.  I was Julie Andrews twirling triumphantly on a majestic alpine meadow.  I repeated the verse, this time allowing my voice to climb to the dizzying heights of that final climactic line.

“TILL….YOU…..FIND….YOUR…..DR….EAAAAAAAM!”

As I hit that final high note, in what I hoped would be the crystal clear whistle-tones of Mariah Carey, I fear I sounded less like Mariah and more like the piercing whine of a jetliner turbine reaching full throttle before take-off.

This time Maisy the dog (our guide-dog puppy, who has remained mysteriously absent from this story until now) jerked upright on full-alert from her sleeping coma. “Mum stop!  You’re scaring the dog!”  My daughter urged.

Maisy’s face said it all.  Was I in unbearable pain?  Was I on the verge of collapse?  She bolted to the aid of her master, who was obviously in the last throes of death and needed immediate aid.

She would brave the horrible droning noise to come and rescue me. Finally running out of breath, I reluctantly ended my performance and bent to reassure the distressed animal as she reached me.

I was okay.  I wasn’t in fact, dying.  The bizarre acoustic ordeal was over. Laughing at the commotion I’d caused I straightened and immediately conked my head on one of the still open cupboard doors, causing me to crumple to the floor, clutching my head in pain.

“Owww,” I howled, as Maisy licked my face comfortingly and the kids rollicked about with laughter.  (Sometimes, its painfully obvious where your loyalties lie).

“That really hurts,” I moaned.

“Well that’s what you get, Mum…” my daughter admonished sagely.

“You know,” I said, gingerly rubbing the growing lump.  …I do remember another one.”

“Noooooooo! They both shouted in tandem.

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Me No Arff Bathtime

In this house, Maisy’s bath time has been replaced by a good wipe down with a damp cloth.  And as you are about to find out, with good reason.

A while back, Maisy was doused in some awful waterless shampoo chemical concoction that was so disgustingly strong-smelling, that there was no alternative but to give her a good bath to get the horrible stuff off.

Anyway…it was around this time we learned that Maisy does not like to be bathed.

“Do I look like I like bath time?”

After managing to get Maisy into a low-filled bath and soaping her down, she proceeded to scuttle around the bath like her tail was on fire. Deciding enough was enough, she suddenly leapt over the high bath wall in an outwardly spiralling explosion of water and soap.

The floor and I…were completely saturated.

I did my level best to catch her to dry her down, but Maisy was doing a good impersonation of a wacky cartoon dog on roller-skates in a room full of marbles.  She tore madly around the room in circles, her legs skidding out from under her as her claws slipped on the lino.

One of the kids came in to see what all the commotion was about… and that was when she spotted her chance.

She would escape from doggie Alcatraz.

She belted out of the bathroom like a shot, trekking wet paws over the carpet, and tearing around the house with the rest of us in hot pursuit.

If you’ve never found yourself in this situation folks, you would be surprised how hard it is to catch a wet and very determined labrador puppy when they’ve a mind not to be.

Finally I cornered Maisy in the family room.  She looked at me…I looked at her.  Her eyes said it all.  Clearly, if she was going down, she was taking it all with her.  The furniture, the carpet, the electronics, it was all gonna be collateral damage.

Time stood still, I could see into the future, but was utterly powerless to stop it.  And then it happened.

“Noooooo…..” I shouted in movie-style slow-motion, but it was too late.

Yes folks, she did the saturated wet puppy…SHAKE.

xxx Alexa

Click here or here if you’d like to read some of Maisy’s past misadventures (or you can click the category “Definitely Not a Dog Person” to the right, to see all her naughty stories.)

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Gotta love my new coat

There is no particular reason for this post, other than a gratuitous photo of Maisy looking super cute in her new winter coat.

And as you can see getting quite a bit bigger these days.

Maisy definitely has her own personality and boy do I get to see it when maybe…perhaps…not that this would ever happen….I’m not in the best of moods.  She just seems to feed off that energy and act out like a naughty toddler. Who said that kids are the only ones that know how to push our buttons:)

But most of the time she is super sweet and likes a cuddle.

Hmmm…just like most of us really:)

Bye for now and hope you enjoyed this pictorial update.

xxx Alexa

p.s. it may just be possible that I am becoming in the teeniest, tiniest way – a dog person.

If you’d like to read some of Maisy’s past misadventures, click here or here. (Or you can click the category “Definitely Not a Dog Person” to the right, to see all her naughty stories.)

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It’s the Darndest Thing….

 

So you’re wondering how little Maisy’s been going.

Well, I recently came downstairs to discover this scenario and the conversation which ensued went something like this.

Me:  “So…ah…Maisy, you wouldn’t happen to know what happened to the magazine that was on the kitchen table would you?”

M:  “What….who…..me…..what magazine?  I…..ah…..no.  Nope.  Don’t know nothin’ about it.”

Me:  “Oh, you don’t, eh?”

M:  “Nope, sorry.  I’ze been asleep the whole time.  Don’t know what magazine you’re talking about.”

Me:  “Is that so.  Well explain to me, how the magazine that was on the kitchen table now seems to be torn up in a thousand pieces, right in front of you?”

M:  “What?  (looks around, feigns surprise).  “Oh…ah…that magazine.  Wow.”

Me:  “Yes.  That magazine.”

M:  “Well, now that I’ze thinks about it.  Ah….this thing kind of….thing….snuck in here.”

Me:  “A thing eh?  What kind of thing?”

M:  “Well….it was small and black….no, wait…it was green.  Yep, that’s right.  It was green.  And it kind of flew down from the ceiling and tore it all up, right in front of me.  And then it flew away again.  It was the darndest thing.”

Me:  “So, you’re telling me that a small green thing flew down from the ceiling, tore up the magazine that was on the kitchen table, that’s now in a thousand pieces in front of you, then flew away again?”

M:  “Ah yup.  That’s what happened, alright.  I seen it with my own two eyes.”

Me:  “I thought you were asleep.”

M:  “What? Oh yeah, I was.  But it kind of woke me up.  The thing was in a round machine that flew down from the ceiling, and it made this kind of buzzing sound.”

Me:  “You’re telling me that a small green thing, flew down from the ceiling in a buzzing thing that woke you up, and then it tore up this magazine?”

M:  “Ah, yup.  That’s it ezatly.  That’s ezatly what happened.”

Me:  “And you expect me to believe that?”

M:  “What? Ah yup.  I mean, I know it sounds weird.  But that’s ezatly what happened.  Ezatly.”

Me:  “The word is exactly.”

M:  “Yup.  Ezatly.  That’s ezatly what I said.”

Me:  “Aha.”

M:  “So, I’m ah, just gonna go back to sleep now, if that’s okay with you.  Because the green thing in the buzzing round machine woke me up an’ all.  So I still didn’t get any sleep at all….so now I’ze soooooo tired.”

Me:  “Is that so?”

M:  “Ezatly.”

 

Anywho…things are going pretty well over here.  Hope things are peachy with you too.

As I’ze always says.  A picture tells a thousand words, don’t you think?

Ezatly.

xxx Alexa

 

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