Chele Pedersen Smith's Blog

Four O’Clock is Hard, but it was Supposed to be Five.

She was persistent! That cute brat of a face, all eager eyes and whiskers. Bossed by her belly, her snout bumped our hands, shouting “Feed me; feed me now!”

We tried to train her to wait until five, but somehow her prancing, tap-dancing whines ruled the game. And so a four o’clock dinner it was… for eleven years.

Daylight savings meant nothing to her. "Time falling back” is hard to explain to a golden retriever. So we played tricks, a half scoop at THREE to get her there.
Or when my 2:30 pharmacy shift lasted til 8 with hubby out of town--she loved her "early bird halfsies" -- and even knew the term!

Now four o’clock ticks and the food dish is empty. No more whisker breaths on my hands as I write. Walking by, we feel the need to fill the water bowl. It’s a gut-wrenching reflex that first week without her.

No fair cancer crept in and took our girl in one day. But solace shines sunny; she was happy til the sudden end.

We're lucky we made it to eleven. But our greedy hearts expected fourteen, like our golden guy before her. It's never really long enough, is it?

Life’s not the same without our funny, sweet Penny. Just like it wasn't when Buster bridged over.

If only time COULD fall back…
and suspend us with the ones we love.

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Psychology of a Hair Color

About five years ago, I started dabbing my gray away. I had teetered over the "50th" birthday mark and was a few increments in. (Yikes. Now I'm just behind the sixtieth notch!)

There wasn't much gray in my short brunette mane, but the strands were starting to get tinsley. Tinsel is pretty and twinkly at Christmas but it's not welcome crinkling my fine hair.

So, I took the chemical plunge. I'm not good at doing hair so I put my head in the trusting hands of my hairdresser, Jean.

The fantasy brimming inside the quiet, mature college student and writer wanted to be bold like my spy character, Galaxy O'Jordan, in Behind Frenemy Lines. Gal flips her beautiful burgundy tresses and lures handsome, chivalrous agent Lee Clancy into her lair. But are they spies in love or enemies with benefits?
I wanted my hair to be exciting like Galaxy, but did I dare?

I toyed with my husband. "Would you enjoy having a blonde bombshell wife?" I asked. He smiled back but kept the banter diplomatic, fearing a trap door might spring open any second. Smart man!

I didn't really want to go blonde. I didn't have to; my part-time ditziness was already a blonde joke. Plus, I knew my fair skin could never pull it off, so I flipped through Jean's color book. How I wanted a tasteful purplish hue! But I decided on a safe caramel mocha. I wasn't brazen enough to glow neon in a crowd or endure stares just yet. The caramel brunette looked natural and became my go-to those first few times. Still, the Galaxy inside me wanted to get out!

So next time I veered into violet. Well, almost! It was mostly caramel with hints of violet-red, a sort of auburn. In the sun or catching the light just right, flecks of red grape shone pretty. It mixed with the brunette well, so it wasn't an announcing marquee either. I found my color!

After graduating with a Liberal Arts degree in professional writing, I went back to work. As far as writing or editing jobs were concerned, I needed a bachelor's degree. I wasn't up for more school or loans, so seven years out of the pharmacy tech field, I found myself back in. Good thing I kept up my certification!

Getting back in the swing of standing all day and relearning the tasks (plus new ones) were harder than I thought. I kept being told I wasn't fast enough. I knew I was doing pretty well, and certainly doing my best!

During 2020, pharmacy staff and other essential workers were business as usual, with altered hours. I worked hard and found myself manning the drive-through and registers most of the time, running around ragged. It was tiring but it had some perks. I loved seeing all the dogs and placing biscuits in the drive-thru drawer. During the pandemic I had some odd requests. The Cool Ranch Doritos was probably my favorite one.
Pickup was also where most RXs were dropped off, so I was inputting those as well as the company's long vaccine forms, and fixing insurance glitches. After almost a year, my hours kept dropping so I got into my favorite niche---supermarket pharmacy. No more crazy-paced drive-throughs! Yay!

I was so happy to get back to the supermarket scene (a job I had before we moved to Massachusetts) I was on cloud nine. My next appointment at Jean's Country Curl, I cranked up the violet a little bit more!!

While I had more recent experience, things at the grocery store pharmacy got more familiar and routine, but I had some turbulence too. Because I was Nationally Certified, my boss thought I would know a lot more--a rightful expectation--- and be faster. Ugh, that again!! Even though he understood that I had been out of the loop for so long, my first performance review did not go as well as I hoped. It wasn't exactly a crash and burn either, but to my crestfallen surprise, I was on probation. He would be observing me to see how I progressed. Shaky nerves much?

With this punch-in-the-gut, my confidence plummeted. When it was time for another hair touchup, I felt too blah and intimidated at work to let the bold grape shine through, so I shrank behind caramel mocha for a while.

During this paranoid probation period, I kept up cheerfulness, taking it in stride, I was still courteous and helpful to customers. Learning all I could, I challenged myself, taking on tasks I saw needed done. It wasn't easy to nab the chance before pharmacist interns and students beat me to it, but I stayed on my game. I shook off the fear of losing the job, thinking all I can do is my best. If I'm canned, the job isn't meant to be, right? Gulp!!

I was still a little blue and nervous. I didn't feel like an essential employee, but I forced a smile---under my face mask. :) It really does boost the mood!

One day, a sweet customer handed me a silver sticker. You're Beautiful! it said. How did she know my morale was faltering? Did it show? I hoped not. I was sure I remained professional and friendly. But that sticker made a difference! I felt God was sending me a message through this wonderful woman. No matter what we go through, we are still worthy! No matter what others think of us, we are still good enough. No, we are even better than good enough!

At my next cut and color, my psyche was ready to shine again.

And oh, I'm still at this job, going on three years! I've become a valuable team player with our small staff.

* Has your confidence ever taken a blow, resulting in the way you shied away, changed, or presented yourself? Please share in the comments.

Pack your Peace Tent with Essentials in The Pearly Gates Phone Company

5 stars of awe for Jesus! When we least expect it, He pulls out a surprise blessing. :)

Has someone called you from Heaven? Maybe not a direct person-to-person call, but in some form or sign? The whimsical title of The Pearly Gates Phone Company finally came to me after lots of brainstorming and rewrites, and it matches the main story's name.

A month after Dad died, a series of odd phone phenomena jingled, and it was too remarkable not to share! He eased the guilt grief often brings and let me know he was okay in other ways too!

It may seem weird to review your own book, but I feel credit is due to the Lord above!
Thanks to Him, these anecdotes animate my lost loved ones, and they live on tucked in the pages, and in my heart. (As do my living family and friends.)

He even orchestrated the hummingbird hysteria which finally landed me a dream-come-true writing spot in Guideposts Magazine!

Pearly Gates Phone Company's 33 spiritual shorts are a treasure map of my life in mini miracles. Uncanny coincidences, answered prayers and dreams in the nick of time, and other blessings pop up along the way. They're humbly written in a fun, relaxed style.
(I'm just an ordinary gal, not a theology expert.)
After I jotted down the amazing wonders I witnessed, I asked friends and family to tell me their extraordinary encounters --and wow! Big or small, they blew me away, so I wrote those too:

From my family's Funeral Follies to an intuitive Olive Garden kindness, a Boy Scout's much needed sign, a funny digital answer, three dollars twice, a harrowing midnight scolding to tips on pitching a Peace tent--and lots of goodies in between!
Just wait til you see what God did in Kenya!

So curl up in a comfy spot and get lost in the ethereal experiences. Have you had your miracle today?

Schemes Along the Scenic Route

Savoring a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, have you ever wondered if you could bake those cookie dough bits? Well, in 2004 I was nudged by the nutty idea, and I finally had to try it and yep--they actually turn into tiny, crisp cookies!
As the kids and I marveled at the silly success, we gobbled them in one gulp, feeling like giants.

{In contrast, the year before, my middle school son and I used to enjoy the "bake at home" 800-pound Gorilla cookies! Do they still exist in the freezer section, or have they become as mythical as Bigfoot? }

Thinking outside the box, like the time I was seven and tried baking a pan of brownies inside our big, hot, upright stereo console, the words "I wonder" have taken me down offshoot avenues I may never have stumbled. Hey, inventors would never get a thingamajig to work if they kept their ideas hidden under a hat, right? So let out your schemes; the crazier, the better!

In the early 70s, the stereo furniture brownies failed, but around the same age, my imagination soared. Since we lived in an apartment near a busy Connecticut street, we weren't allowed out much, so one winter day, I had a sure-proof plan that would have us making snow angels in no time.

"Let's throw our toys outside," I coaxed my younger brother. "Then Mom will make us go get them."

So, weee.. the playthings went flying from the second story window! It was brilliant and would've worked if Mom hadn't caught on and went to fetch them herself!

Creativity blooms out of boredom and limitations, {among other ways}, and around this time, I also made up characters for my brother and I to act out.
There was Karen, a superior girl who had things I wished I had, like a pair of coveted white sandals. "Karen" would clomp around the apartment with a square blue block stuck to her bare heels. Then there were Big Cat and Little Cat Hernandez, brothers I think, and a girl named Denise,

First grade, in the middle of my schoolwork, I'd often stop and stare into space. My fluffy brain must've begun development way back then, but I don't remember what drifted my attention away. Mom had to meet with my teacher because of this daydreaming dilemma. Maybe my stare off into space was thinking how best to solve my work sheets, wishing I was someplace else, or craving those sandals I so wanted!

We had early bedtimes so being tucked in at 7 pm, especially in the light of summer, it was hard to fall asleep right away. One night or early morning, I saw an object down the hall. The more I squinted and tried to figure out what it was, the more a shape appeared. And the more my mind became convinced it was a real mouse in a toy car! I even tried calling it. "Here, Mousie, Mousie." But it wouldn't zoom toward me. Finally, I got up to use the bathroom, and inspected up close. Turns out it was just a sneaker.

Early on, my imagination kept me delusional and entertained. haha. No wonder I became a writer.

I've had some half-baked ideas, perceptions, and committed off-the-wall antics thanks to an inquisitive mind! If you've read the eclectic array of blog posts here or any of my books, you're probably not surprised.
One way to enjoy life is looking at the world through wonderful, wonky lenses. And I don't just mean my purple, lace-scalloped eyeglasses I can't read a thing without!

My abstract mind also sees animation in mundane objects. Hearts, crosses, and funny faces appear. Do you see them too?

I'm amused by the expressions on back of cars, faucet handles on sinks, and in the grocery store while selecting potatoes, I realized I was holding one that resembled a cartoon character with bugged "eyes" on each side and an indented half smile.

The other day I poured honey into my tea and before I stirred it, the foam mingled, creating a stylish women's face winking with long white hair. Other times the foam looks like a ghost.

And at the risk for an invitation to the funny farm, one night from a certain angle, my bathmat shag was brushed in such a way, I saw Jesus with his long hair and facial fuzz. He seemed to be holding a cup and saucer and staring at it in surprise. Perhaps he saw a ghost in his teacup too.

Does It Have to Be the Whole Enchilada?

I grabbed the brass ring! But how far does a dream have to go?
It's been five years since I became a published author. I am blessed, living out what I've always wanted to do, and I am content. Not rich. Ha-ha, writers rarely are! In fact, I'm probably in the hole from all the expenses. Dreams aren't cheap, ya know!

If it weren't for my day job and husband, I'd be a starving artist. Amazingly, I knew that, even at age 20, I could write anywhere but would likely need a career job to live on. I was always a dreamer but with a realistic edge for survival.

Besides, money isn't why I pour out my prose. I do it to fulfill my soul and entertain my brain --and hopefully yours, too.
I didn't go in expecting a hefty bank account but it's nice to make some money from this endeavor, to boost me up to "professional writer," and help replenish the output.

Yes, it would be dazzling to be a bestselling author, be traditionally published (I did my share of submitting!), make big bucks, and have a promoter do the marketing--which is the most exhausting part! But if it doesn't pan out to that level, I'm content to be an indie, to have control and own the rights to my work.

Mostly I'm grateful for the folks reading my books! It's the readers who also make my dream come true. (And authors helping authors and I'm glad I'm part of a great circle!)
A big thank you to all of you! Keep up the fantastic support of buying, reading, reviewing, and hyping up your favorite writers!

The past five years, I've done the circuit of things "real writers" do. Finished a writing degree, wrote for the college newspaper and creative writing journals, did dream-come-true Barnes & Noble book signings, and blog interviews. I performed readings, peddled my wares at fairs, festivals, and farmers markets. I got into my local writers' group anthologies, set up a Facebook group (join us in Chele's Galaxy!), did Author Takeovers, two Goodreads giveaways.... even got into a National magazine I submitted to for over twenty years! (The latter is true jubilance!!) So, do I have to strive for prominent fame and make it to the top? No!

I cherish my victories thus far. Besides the ones already mentioned, I learned how to format and edit (and edit, edit, edit) actual books! It's a long way from my stapled booklets I wrote and drew in junior high.
Those are also treasures.

It's okay to do what we love in small portions. I've dabbled in other dreams too. I gave radio deejaying a whirl my first semester of college in '84, my favorite year of music!
Fascinated about teeth while going through braces, I went into dental assisting for six years before staying home with my son. After musing about shooting weddings, I snapped up the photo op for my brother's wedding and became an event photographer, which included three nuptials and a Bat Mitzvah. So fun!
In early 2000s, a pamphlet for a pharmacy technician program led to my current fulfilling job for the past decade. It's good to taste-test experiences then graze onto other goals.

I'm glad I put myself out there, jumped at the chances, accomplished what-ifs and worked hard. Most of it has been fun and creative.

My contentment as an author doesn't mean I'm giving up. I have a ton of works-in-progress to complete. I'm looking forward to reacquainting with those characters and plots I left idling. I also want to finish a website and maybe conjure up newsletters, and I still might submit to publications. Whatever is next, I'm pining for the peaceful solitude of writing I once had. Maybe I can't go back to it completely now that I've eaten at the writers' table, but that's okay. I still need some interaction. I'll just find a balance and not stress about doing it all.

When certain aspects go stale and no longer reap results, it's okay to toss those ingredients out and find fresher fixins'. We don't have to stuff everything into a tortilla or buy the whole dream forever. Sometimes it's the smaller bites that are more satisfying,

Flying with my Favorite Author

I was excited Judy Blume had a new YA/Adult book out for the millennium--but the problem? I white-knuckled the pages, afraid to dive in.

I love Judy Blume's books. I re-read them often, I grew up and into them as my discovery progressed. While "Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret is my favorite preteen book at age 12, and "Forever" is my favorite coming-of-age "steamy" tale at 18, "Summer Sisters is my absolute favorite YA/adult book I devoured in my 40s and have again and again. I love the layers and the complexity of SS and also found that in "Smart Women," so in 2015 when I heard Ms. Blume had a brand-new adult novel out, I was psyched!

But there were two problems when I read the premise: First, it was about a big triple airplane disaster/ tragedy that really happened in Blume's neighborhood in the 1950s, AND second, her main character was named Miri---a unique character name I assigned to my MC for a book I was writing! I was bummed but hey, it's nice to know I accidentally landed on the same wavelength as one of my favorite authors. :)

My heaviest dilemma was, "Ut oh, I don't like reading disturbing topics." (See my blog post, Learning to Cry at Movies.) They tend to haunt my heart. Then add a scoop of ready-made flight qualms to the mix! Although I do travel and have flown plenty since childhood, the worry of flying isn't my biggest thrill. (For the record, I do enjoy flying, mostly in retrospect. And having personal movie screens in the seats is a big game changer!)

Still, this new novel was JUDY BLUME, so after three years of waffling, I finally bought the book! I'm so glad I faced my fear and readied for takeoff!

I enjoyed the story more than I thought, although the haunting did happen and lingered awhile. I'm glad I read this later in 2018 after we had a long series of flights and layovers enroute to a lucky Hawaiian trip.

In the Unlikely Event"was more YA than adult (there are two parts) and it brought back the nostalgia of reading Judy Blume's best target audience.

While the main characters and families are grounded bystanders and not on the planes, the aftermath takes a toll and unravels their lives,
I enjoyed Miri's teenage part of the story the most, with her friends Natlie and Suzanne, and especially Miri's mysterious dance-in-the-dark partner and blossoming romance.

Miri had a great home arrangement going on with her single working mom, and it was so nice having her doting grandmother and fun uncle living downstairs. I just adored her Uncle Henry! He was a newspaper reporter and for some reason, I pictured a young Jimmy Stewart.

Everything was going swimmingly at home for Miri until one by one, surprises and scandals crop up along the way. The airplane crashes weren't the only jarring shockwaves!'

As the storylines unfurled, there were a lot of minor characters too. The author placed a complete list at the beginning of the book which was helpful for later reference if need be. I liked senior high schooler Christine and her dental office mentor, Daisy. They were smart and levelheaded, but were amusing, colorful characters hiding their own secrets, too. I admit I did forget who the Fosters were when they're mentioned again down the road. That reference guide came in handy!

In the second half of the story, the teens are grown up and face a reunion and anniversary of the disasters. Ironically, although I was their age in my early 50s, I didn't feel as connected to Miri and her friends as grownups. I did like that they finally got closure, and Miri and Natalie's daughters meet and become friends. It's a sweet circle of life.

But not all books are perfect (as I know in my own work). Perhaps it's in the eye of the beholder since we can't please everyone, because for me, the most baffling part of an otherwise good read is Miri's friend Natalie.

I really felt for her and her family. After the first crash, fragile Nat undergoes strange paranormal phenomena, and it's fascinating. I really was curious and on the edge of my seat waiting for an explanation, but it never came, or maybe I missed it and it fell between the lines wedged into the spine.
And then flash forward to the reunion when adult Natalie barges in all brash, "big shot" and dismissive, decked in New Mexico turquoise garb. It seemed like a copy and paste version of Caitlin Sommers in "Summers Sisters." Did any other Blume fans think so too?

Despite those wrinkles, the book flies high and I even cracked it open and read it again recently.
Blume's books (and other favorite YA authors) are like comforting blankets and a fountain of youth. What a treat! I'm restocking my collection and even found some gems I hadn't read before.

A delightfully funny sisterhood/friendship gem with heart!

Naneen walks out the house one spring day and takes a bus when she could have driven. She doesn't know she won't return--or where she'll end up. Or does she know deep down? But serendipity finds her-- at a pizza place where she meets her waitress, Frankie, age nineteen. Twenty-six and still newly-enough married, Naneen decides to take Frankie up on an offer, or is it a dare? Ride the city bus to the end of the line--just for fun. And so begins a life-changing adventure for two young women not sure where to go.

The novella,The Wind Before the Rain by Janice Lynn Ross has engaging, likable characters, especially the protagonists, Naneen and Frankie. They are funny and their indecisive nature while trying to be brave is relatable. (In some ways they remind me of Lucy and Ethel from the sitcom, "I Love Lucy.")

A few things Naneen is going through rang home and made me think: Could I be brave too? Frankie's lively brashness is funny but not mean; sometimes she makes things up on the fly, especially when she meets handsome Denny! Other times she says what's on her mind but it comes out innocently young, which has humorous moments and gets her into scrapes. Her friend Piper is a hoot too.

Frankie's 60ish young grandmother is a darling, wise motherly sage to the girls and a favorite character, Gram-a-line! An ingenious name--Frankie's mashup of Gramma and Adeline which reminds me of my own grandmother, Caroline. I wish I thought to call her that.

As Naneen and Frankie stick together on life's ever-twisting path, they must face their fears before moving on to the next surprising plan--much like the gale-force winds that come before a storm.
I highly recommend this book!

The Day all the Numbers Went Kaplooey!

It was a number jumble of humble proportions!
While it's true writers' brains are comprised mainly of words, back in the 90s with small kids, my pen was on hiatus. So I wasn't fluffy-headed-- full of plots and dialogues-- like I am now. (or menopausal)
And this was barely the computer age. The Internet had just crossed the information superhighway into our homes, but it was archaic, before Windows and way before logins, passwords and pin numbers clogged our cortex, So there wasn't much excuse for the flub, except maybe membership in the Mommy club.

I'm not a math whiz by any means, but I have a way with numbers. Even as a kid, I liked goofing around, making up calculator games. My mind sought sequences and associations, and after moving a lot as a Navy Brat (then a few times as a Navy wife), this came in handy for quick recall and making sense of patterns for each phone number and address jammed into the mental file cabinet, My number tricks also helped the noggin register several license plates from different states I've lived, and whatever else I had to cram in over the decades. Famous athletes' sports jerseys add to the significant fun as well.

But back to the big digit blow up. My hubby at the time, Barry, was a sailor and had Navy overnight duty every three days, but the love of my life had a habit of parking on a residential street near the submarine construction site---in a NO Parking Zone. You could argue and quote Crater Face in Grease that "the whole place was a no-parking zone" since there weren’t many legit spaces to park due to shipyard employees and boat crews. Maybe I should rephrase this and say on residential streets, there was a certain time limit. And every three days, Barry overstayed his welcome.
He didn't always park there, but at least four or five times he handed over tickets for me to pay! ( Don't worry, we had joint checking. )

Our small son and I had our routine excursion to the nice, new police station. I'm surprised we weren't on a first-name basis with the desk staff. :)
It was an impressive place and the little guy was in awe. It usually was a quick in and out--at least until the big ice storm!

The frigid N'oreaster blew in overnight on one of Barry's duty days and of course, he was parked in No-No land. By the time he left the next morning, the ice-encased citation was plastered to his windshield. He plucked it off in pieces.

Once again my son and I found ourselves at the City of Groton Police headquarters-- our home away from home. I slid the clerk the bill bits. They were reduced to soft petals, practically faded recycled paper. Naturally, she needed some information-- or more like all of it, which was easy... until she got to the license plate number.

Suddenly, I was stumped. it was pop quiz time! This was a series of letters and digits I knew by heart, especially here. I asked, but couldn't believe they didn't have it on file, especially since his car was a frequent flyer. So I racked my brain, glancing off into space, then peering out the door at my car's plate hoping it jogged his.

Then Eureka--I had it! I rattled off the secret code! Whew, triumphant--until the clerk crinkled her brows and said it didn’t seem right; it should contain at least a letter.

Hmm, how could it be wrong? I leaned into the glass and looked at what she had written. Of course it was right, right? I scrutinized the series, but something did seem off. Then it all made sense! I couldn't stop laughing. I had given her my mother's phone number in Florida!
Duh!
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What's So Good about Good Friday?

It was my first newlywed spat in '86.
"We can't eat meat today," I informed my new hubby.
"What? That's crazy," Barry said. And he meant it as he ordered a pepperoni and sausage pizza.
"Make half of it just mushroom and olives then!" I insisted.

I was surprised by his audacity, and indifference. Who did I just marry? Didn't he care that he'd get a necrotic, coal heart for eating meat on this day? {No wait, my mother said that would happen if we lied, but I always felt just as awful on the rare times I forgot and bit into a burger on Good Friday.}

Barry's mom was spiritual. Surely, they followed this "no meat" rule on Jesus' crucifixion commemoration. Hmm, maybe not, or at least her son didn't.

But that was okay. We each celebrate holidays in our own way and to solve our hot debate, the new Mr. and Mrs. drew a line down the dinner plate. I stuck to my meatless side. No harm no.... fowl.

As a child, I was weaned on Old Wives' tales, hence the black, lying heart. We weren't Catholic-- or raised in the rigors of church-- until my teens when I enjoyed Sunday school and youth group on my own, even teaching it.
So we didn't get the ash stamp or give up our favorite thing for Lent or avoid meat on other Fridays, but my mom's Lutheran side of the family skipped carcass meals on the eve of Easter weekend. I think it was a nice way to honor the Lord's ordeal, and was just something they did, going back to someone's ancestors.

My first marital meat dilemma was a shock, but not really a big deal going forward since I was the cook most of the time. But regardless how we celebrate, I always had trouble seeing the good in Good Friday. Jesus suffered in such a horrible way, limbs stretched out, palms and feet nailed to the cross like a common criminal. Easter always held a sadness that Christmas did not.

Even among the brightness of a warmer season, rainbow eggs and Easter bunnies, the depressed taste remained---and not just from the accidental chew of a black licorice jellybean. What? That wasn't a dark purple one! So why is this a good day?

Finally, as the speedometer springs slightly past middle age, I think I know. It was pre-destined. It had to happen! Just like Harry Potter had to die to cleave the smidge of Voldemort before he could come back to defeat him, Jesus had to suffer and snuff his last breath to free us from sin, to give us eternal life! We--and more so He--had to get through Friday to get to the even better stuff on Sunday.

We have to break a Cadbury egg to see the amazing filling--and Jesus' death is the miracle inside the cave, even when the tomb is empty.
He is risen! He will appear again.
What does Good Friday and Easter mean to you? How do you celebrate?