Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 102

Randomly Thinking: No, I haven’t started smoking pot, I’ll probably never be a potter, and other random thoughts

Welcome to my random thoughts. Enter at your own risk.

***

As most of you know, I was in the hospital with COVID on Thanksgiving and stayed there for five days. During that time I had a family member who was wonderful and helped me through by talking to me all hours of the night. She is a 911 dispatcher in a rural county so she was already up. She only messaged me between calls so one night I didn’t hear much from her for a while and that was fine. I knew she’d message me on breaks or when things calmed down. When she did message me she told me that the weekend had been absolutely insane.

At one point there was a man who locked himself in his basement, set the basement on fire, and then cut his own throat with a knife. I actually heard about this one from a nurse in the hospital I was in because that man was transported to the same hospital. The nurse was talking to other nurses about how crazy the emergency room was. My relative said this man wasn’t the only man to cut his throat that weekend either.

In addition to the crazy basement man, the dispatch center had a call about a seizure in a barn and then a PennDOT driver who choked on beef jerky in a snow storm, which triggered an asthma attack.

It all made me very glad I am not a 911 dispatcher. My nerves are shot just from going to a store for groceries (yeah, I know I’m crazy. Hush). Having to dispatch an ambulance while someone is on the other end of the phone screaming into it about a bleeding family member? Nope. Could not handle that.

***

I have been taking CBD oil for some of the side effects of COVID. For those who don’t know, CBD is from the hemp plant but it does not have the part of the marijuana plant that makes people high, which is THC. It is used to help people with pain, anxiety and sleep issues and it’s become quite popular. And yes, it is helping the internal tremors and anxiety I have dealt with since COVID, as well as some aches and pains I had before COVID.

So my 89-year old aunt knew about the internal vibrations and asked me how they were going. I was talking to her at my parents house and I told her that CBD oil was helping. She is hard of hearing so she asked what I was saying. I slowly spelled CBD for her and then she said, “Now, tell me about this. What is it?”

I started to tell her what I wrote above and my dad leaned toward the phone and said loudly, “It’s pot, Doris! Pot!”

I quickly assured my aunt I was not smoking pot. My dad knows what CBD is. He just thinks he’s funny.

***

This CBD thing has been a huge source of enjoyment for my family, who like to tease me that I am doing drugs. This wouldn’t be funny in some families but it is funny in mine because we are a family who doesn’t even drink wine let alone do any drugs.

We don’t take a lot of medicines and treat many of our ailments naturally. I don’t drink for a variety of reasons and have never done drugs. My parents do not drink and also do not do drugs. I guess that’s why joking about drug usage is allowed in my family? I have no idea and to be clear I don’t mean we make light of addiction or what drugs do to a person, just the hilarious idea that one of us would use them. My mom and I can’t even walk straight after a small dose of NyQuil.

Anyhow, I was taking D-mannose, a natural supplement, for a bladder issue at the same time we had to live with my parents for two weeks when we first moved to the area I live in now. For those who don’t know, dmannose is a natural supplement that can be taken in a capsule form or comes in a white powder that can be mixed with a liquid. I had purchased the white powder so I could mix it with water.   I had the D-mannose in a baggie (I don’t remember why now) and I misplaced the bag and asked my mom if she had seen it.

“You mean your cocaine?” Mom asked. “It’s over on the counter.”

“Mom!” I cried. “It is not cocaine.”

Mom responded, “Did you need a spoon and a candle to melt that down?”

I scowled. “I’m not an expert but I think that’s what you do with crack so no, I don’t need a spoon and a candle.”

My mom just grinned at me.

With all this CBD usage, I told my mom I was nervous about one of the oils because I wasn’t totally sure it was THC free. It wasn’t labeled very well and was made on a small farm. I was going to use while I waited for a more high quality one to arrive in the mail.

“Well, just take it and see if you get high, I guess,” she told me, then snorted a laugh.

If you knew my mom and how anti-marijuana and alcohol she is, that comment would crack you up even more.

***

My son has been enjoying harassing me about the CBD oil too. He asks me from time to time if I am high yet.

Before Christmas, my dad bought a fruit cake and was taste testing it. My son said, “Well we know she (pointing to me) might be high but are you high too? Who actually buys fruit cake?!”

***

A super sweet cat showed up at my parents the week before Christmas. We don’t know if someone dropped him off or where he came from but he hung around the house and when my family pulled in the drive he was waiting and jumped up on his hind legs, bumping his head against our hands to get us to pet him.

Our dog immediately fell in love with him and kept trying to go outside to check on him. Usually Zooma chases cats she meets outside, but this time she just stood and sniffed the cat and let him rub himself all over her.

We have two cats so we knew we couldn’t take him home with us. The whole family immediately decided we needed to put a notice on Facebook to see if anyone knew who he belonged to.

A few minutes after my dad posted the notice, people said they didn’t know who the cat belonged to but they wanted him. Two days later he had a knew home on a farm with horses and two dogs. My dad hopes he didn’t give someone’s cat away but he was just too sweet to take to an animal shelter or let stay out in the cold all winter.

***

My husband posted this gem on Facebook Christmas Eve:

My wife wrapping presents:

An elegant tribute to the sculptural nature of bows and ribbons, a warm embrace in paper form

Me wrapping presents:

A thousand angry thumbs fail to understand the concept of paper, a monster held together by tape and hubris

***

Speaking of my husband, we were reminiscing this week about this past summer when he took our daughter to a local carnival. He took her on a ride where you sit on a rug and slide down a long slide. He sat her on his lap and the person manning the ride said, “Okay, now let’s get your granddaughter in place.”

Like he said at the time when he told me the story, “I have to get rid of the gray in this beard.”

***

We bought Little Miss a pottery wheel for Christmas and I thought I’d give it a go. It is pretty little and just for kids so I can handle it right? That’s what I thought anyhow. This thing was flying at like 80 mph while I tried to mold a lump of clay into a bowl. What resulted was thirty minutes of me saying, “oh! Oh my! Slow down! This is going to fly off. Why is this going so fast? I thought this was for kids? I need a slower wheel! This is making a mess! What was I thinking?”

My failed attempt at making a bowl and Little Miss’s tools trying to remove it from the pottery wheel.

We spent two days wiping clay off anything within a 20-foot radius of the wheel and have learned to put plastic or something down from now on when using it.

Little Miss had no interest in using it. Instead, she just wanted to carve and shape her creations out of the clay. It was a much safer choice, trust me. I do, however, still want a bigger wheel of my own.

Even though the wheel seemed fast and I didn’t know what I was doing (although I once saw a local high school teacher teaching students and knew to wet my hands as I went along), it was strangely relaxing and mesmerizing. I guess I know what to tell my husband and children to get me for Mother’s Day.

***

My daughter recently made this portrait of me in mustard. I don’t know what else to say.

So those are some of my random thoughts. Share a few of yours with me in the comments. 

Sunday Bookends: Christmas celebrations, lots of British shows, and very little reading

Welcome to my week in review blog post where I ramble about what I’ve been reading, watching, writing, doing and sometimes what I’ve been listening to.

I hope you all had a wonderful, Merry Christmas!

We had a good one free of the drama of our Thanksgiving.

We visited my parents for Christmas and had a really nice time.

We went a little crazy with gifts for the kids this year and it was worth it. They had a blast.

We (my husband and I and my parents) bought The Boy a hover board which his sister is now jealous of. Luckily her brother let her try it a couple of times and she did a great job. Little Miss got a scooter and a pottery wheel. They both received several other various gifts as well.

My parents bought the kids a couple of engraved cards that can fit in a wallet. The inscriptions on them were really beautiful.

I was super excited to receive the boxed set of The Anne of Green Gables series from my husband. He also gave me chocolate and bought us a record player which is also a CD player, a cassette player and radio and has Bluetooth. It’s coming in the mail Tuesday and I am excited to try it out.

My dad bought my mom jewelry and clothes, a tradition for Christmas. Another tradition is how he announced to her and everyone else how little money he spent on her jewelry.

“Seventy-five cents,” he said holding the pair of earrings my mom had just opened toward me. “Second Hand Rose.”

Sigh. He’s always excited about a bargain but I do have to say he knows how to find them.

My husband is on vacation this week so we hope to get out and visit a restaurant and take the kids to do some shopping with some money they have that is apparently burning a hole in their pocket. It will be my first outing in about two months.

I’m still struggling some mentally and physically from having Covid in mid-November but it is slowly getting better. I am having more good days than bad now. I wish it would quickly get better, but that’s just not going to happen. As my aunt said – I’m like her side of the family who wants it better and fixed yesterday.

She also reminded me that it just won’t happen in this case. I have to be patient because of all my body was put through. I’m not a patient person at all but I’ve been trying to just accept where I am in the midst of my healing journey and stop trying to fix it all. Great, now I sound like I’m trying to be a YouTube influencer. Sigh.

Anyhow, I wrote a blog post early on in this whole pandemic thing about letting God fight our battles and I need to let him do that here too.

I should clarify that most people don’t have the side effects I have had after Covid. I have some other health issues that just make recovery from any illness a bit slower than most people. I am hypothyroid and may have fibromyalgia but I am not going to claim that last one right now. I also had anxiety before all of this so that can also make a situation worse but my husband and I have decided we think the issues I am having are a combination of mental and physical. We both think they will settle eventually and I have prepared myself for it to be months rather than weeks but I truly have no idea. Thank God (literally) I have found some things that are helping!

Like me, the rest of the family’s coughs are hanging on or returning and my son and I both have limited taste and smell, but mine is better than his at this point. We are all having stomach issues where we suddenly have no appetite and I’m guessing that is from the sinus drainage and leftover from the virus.

What I’m Reading

I didn’t do a ton of reading this past week beyond re-reading Paddington to Little Miss before bed. I did not finish The Mistletoe Countess by Pepper Basham, but maybe this week.

I started the fifth book in the Walt Longmire series by Craig Johnson and am already hooked.

I also started the second book in the Anne of Green Gables series yesterday.

 I’ll have to pick one book this week to read instead of jumping all over.

My brain jumps all over these days so I guess my reading is too.

What I watched or Am Watching

I binged watched the new series of All Creatures Great and Small last week. It was on Amazon Prime until the end of this month and then goes back to a subscription for PBS.

I didn’t think I would like the new series because I was so in love with the first series, but the way the characters are portrayed grew on me with each episode. We may have to subscribe to PBS when the second season comes out.

I jumped from All Creatures Great and Small to a show called The Durrells in Corfu. (Incidentally, Callum Woodhouse who plays Tristan Farnon in All Creatures Great and Small is also in this show.)

It’s a bit of a weird show and a big departure from All Creatures Great and Small, which I liked better. There are three seasons of it but not sure I’ll watch all of the seasons. It’s not bad. It’s just – a little weird sometimes. I’m getting caught up in the lives of the characters, so I will probably end up watching all of it.

I tried to watch some cheesy Hallmark-like movies on Amazon, but I didn’t get far. There was one with Joey Lawrence and he was wearing hot pink lipstick. Hot pink lipstick, guys. And no he was not playing a crossdresser. I don’t know what they were thinking putting that thing out as a final movie without realizing he had hot pink lipstick on but I was out. No. Thank. You. It was weird.

Christmas movies we did watch last week and this weekend were Elf, Charlie Brown Christmas, The Grinch, and Home Alone.

And I watched clips of A Christmas Story and It’s A Wonderful Life because I’ve seen the movies so many times I didn’t feel I needed to watch them all the way through again.

I hope to watch The Chosen’s Christmas special later today which can be found on their free app on iOS or android and cast to your TV.

What I’m Listening To

Christmas morning I listened to Michael Buble’s Christmas album because it’s a tradition now. I didn’t listen to a ton of other music and I probably should have because it might have helped my mental status during the week.

If you watch this you can look at the Yule log burning while listening to the album.

What I’m Writing

I’m still plugging away at A New Chapter and shared a chapter of that on Thursday.

So that’s my week in review. How was your week last week? How was your Christmas? Let me know in the comments!

Fiction Thursday: A New Chapter Chapter 14 Part One

To catch up with the rest of this fiction story click HERE.

I will not have a post for Christmas Eve, partially because I don’t have the second part of the chapter finished.

Chapter 14

The run had felt good. Had long had it been since she’d gone on a run?

Liz didn’t even know but now that she had this whole blood sugar and fluid intake while breastfeeding thing figured out, or mostly figured out, she felt like she could start exercising again. Thankfully she’d only run out of energy a small distance from the apartment and had been able to make it back without having to call Molly for a ride.

Now, standing in the shower, the water pouring down her, she tried to chase away of the chill autumn morning. She didn’t have long to do it, though. It was her first day back at work and her mom, unfortunately, was on her way over to watch Bella. Rubbing the shampoo into her hair, she thought about a show she’d watched the day before.

The woman being interviewed by a counselor was dealing with panic attacks, much like Liz still was from time to time.

“What’s one happy memory you’ve had in the last year or so?” the counselor had asked the woman. “A child being born? An event you attended maybe? I want you to focus on that memory when you start to panic. I want you to take yourself back to that moment, or one moment, and visually walk yourself through the moment that brings you joy, as if you are experiencing it again through your mind.”

Liz started to think about her own good memories, specifically those over the last year. Yes, Bella’s birth was one, but when she thought of one of the last times she could remember really laughing Liz had found herself mentally catapulted back to a night of bowling with Matt three months before her encounter with Gabe.

She’d only been bowling a couple of times before and it showed. Matt finally asked if she’d like the bumper rails up so the ball would stop going into the gutter.

“No! I’ll get it!”

She’d scolded him but she was laughing so hard tears were in her eyes.

On one try she almost flew with the ball across the slippery floor and Matt had had to catch her, holding her up against his side to keep her from going with the ball. They’d both been laughing so hard they’d almost fallen again and when she looked up at him, she’d been mesmerized by his smile and the sparkle in his eyes. She’d had a brief thought, which she’d pushed aside quickly. The thought that she wished she’d gotten to know Matt better, before she’d become involved with Gabe.

Gabe who she’d known wasn’t good for her but who paid her attention when others didn’t. A man who half the women in town thought was “hot, dangerous, and a total catch.” She’d thought the same at first and that’s probably why it had taken her so long to admit their relationship was on a fast track to nowhere. That and he was controlling, manipulative, and seemed to have only started dating her because he saw her as someone he could practice all those attributes on.

Worse than all of that was that she had let him control and manipulate her. He’d manipulated her through his words, his touch, the way he’d told her she turned him on the way no one else had before. If that was true then he shouldn’t have needed those other women, the ones who hung around him at parties and laughed at his jokes or the one she found him making out with in their friend’s bathroom during a party. He’d claimed she’d been kissing him, and he’d been trying to push her away.

Liz hadn’t believed him but, well, he’d been drinking. He’d messed up and he still cared about her so maybe he’d straighten up and stop drinking as much now. He’d promised he would and for a month he had. They’d spent their evenings at home watching movies, going to the gym together, and sometimes going for walks together.

Then she’d reached in the couch one night looking for the remote and there it had been. A pink bra with red flowers splattered all over it. A bra much less practical than what she usually wore, something he’d often commented on, in fact. She’d stared at it a few seconds before registering that one, it wasn’t her bra, and two, it had been shoved in her couch. The one she’d picked out at the local furniture store. She’d jumped up from the couch and stared at it in horror.

Could it had been left over from one of their parties? No. She’d never had enough to drink that she would have forgotten someone doing that on their couch.

She knew.

She’d known for a long time.

What was she doing? Living this way? After all the talks she’d given Molly about being good enough, about being worth more than she thought. Now she needed to give herself the talk.

She didn’t even wait for Gabe to come home. She’d called Molly, packed her bags, and finally walked away, into a new future.

Or so she thought.

She shut off the shower and reached for a towel, thinking about how Matt had been with her each step of her pregnancy. Telling him she was pregnant in the first place had been beyond awkward. She’d told him when he’d called to ask her to the movies.

“McGee, listen. I don’t know if anyone told you, but,” she’d swallowed hard and taken a deep breath. She knew this would be the end of his phone calls. “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh. I didn’t think you and Gabe —”

“We aren’t together anymore. I —” she’d wanted to say she’d messed up, but she really didn’t want to hash all that out with the man she’d fallen for but knew was out of her league.

She’d thought that would be the end of it. He’d stop calling, stop coming over to hang out with her and Molly and Alex. He’d make himself scarce.

But he didn’t. Instead, he’d asked her if she needed a ride to the doctors the day her car had broken down. He had driven her to her next four appointments, but he wouldn’t have had to if Bert Tanner had worked a little quicker to fix her car.

After the doctor’s appointments, Matt had invited her to lunch, asked if she’d be at the apartment when they held movie nights, and asked if she would like to go to fishing with him.

They weren’t an actual couple, yet he’d been there for many important moments in the last year; a little too much there the day of Bella’s birth.

And now she knew he’d even been there at her apartment that night. Had he known then that she was pregnant?

She wrapped the towel around her hair and dressed in the t-shirt and shorts she’d worn to bed. Once again, she’d forgot to bring her new change of clothes with her.

 Heading toward her bedroom to find the clothes she planned to wear to her first day back at work, a knock at the door stopped her, but she hesitated.

She was wearing a towel around her head and no bra. She bit her bottom lip and took a chance. She didn’t have to open the door all the way.

“Hey.”

Matt smiled from the small space between the door and the door frame. Sunlight caught the glint of golden in his eyes

“Hey,” she said back.

“Can I come in?”

The man who had lied to her about knowing about her suicide attempt wanted to come in? The man she’d tried to call two days earlier but had been somewhere they couldn’t talk and then hadn’t even bothered to call her back? Not that a phone call was the best way to talk about it anyhow. “No. I just got out of the shower.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest. He was in uniform, apparently on his way to the office. “Um, Liz. You do know that I delivered your baby so I —”

“Seriously, McGee?”

He grinned. “I’m just saying that there is no need to be modest at this point.”

She rolled her eyes as she flung the door open and walked into the living room area.

“I wish you wouldn’t bring that up. It’s really embarrassing for me.”

His tone had softened but she still didn’t turn to look at him as she tipped her head forward and tightened the towel on her head. “Liz, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t keep picking on you about that. Listen, for what it’s worth, I wasn’t actually focused on anything other than Bella that day. I really didn’t see anything. I mean, you know, I just caught her and didn’t —we covered you with my coat so I really only reached in and caught her.”

Liz sighed. “I know. You’ve said this before. It’s still just awkward for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He paused as she dropped a couple pieces of bread in the toaster. “Anyhow, I brought you something.”

She turned and he was holding a small bottle toward her. “What’s this?”

“It’s for your anxiety.”

Her eyes narrowed. “My what?”

“Your postpartum anxiety. It might help some and it should be safe to take while nursing. It’s CBD oil.”

“What makes you think —”

“You get the same look my sister used to get when she was battling panic attacks after she had her second. They came out of nowhere, most of the time for no reason. It was a physical reaction too, not in her head. She tried to hide them, but she had one at church one day and couldn’t slow her breathing. She almost passed out. All the ladies at church meant well and kept reciting Philippians 4:7, telling her to be anxious for nothing. They didn’t seem to understand her hormones were trying to regulate and triggering the attacks. That might be what’s happening with you. I don’t know but it can’t hurt to try and see if it helps.”

How did he do it? How did he see through her so easily?

Could he see inside her now? Did he know how upset she was that he didn’t tell her he’d been there that night?

She took the bottle slowly. “Thank you.”

She set the bottle on the counter and buttered her toast, her back to him.  “Is something wrong?” he asked. “You seem tense this morning.”

“I’m fine. Just nervous about my first day back.”

“Your mom is watching Bella?”

“Sadly, yes.”

He stepped in front of her as she reached for the refrigerator door. “You’ll do fine, you know.”

She looked up at him and his green eyes met hers. They swam with concern and she knew she should tell him what she was really upset about, but she couldn’t. She had to get dressed and go to work. She didn’t have time to hash out what he’d witnessed that night in her apartment.

She swallowed hard. “Thank you for the CBD oil.”

He nodded, breaking his gaze with her. “You’re welcome. You can ask Linda more about it at the store. I’m sure she knows all about it.” Pink flushed across his cheeks as he stepped back to the other side of the table. “Or, well, you probably already know about it after working there for the last three years.”

She wanted to giggle at how shy he suddenly seemed, but she was also still angry at him. The waring emotions in her made her want to run away but luckily a knock on the door interrupted them and she stepped out of the kitchen to answer it.

Marge swept past her as soon as she opened the door. “Sorry I’m late. I had to stop at the church and pick up some books for the ladies group tonight. We’re starting a new series.” She pulled her jacket off and turned to hang it on one of the pegs next to the door, pausing when she saw Matt.

“Oh.” She smiled, looking over her shoulder at him as she hung her coat up. “Hello, Matt.”

He nodded. “Hello, Mrs. — I mean, Marge.”

Liz didn’t even want to know what her mother was thinking at that moment. This was the first time they’d all been in the same room since her mom and her had had their blow up about the birth announcement.

Marge and Matt looked at each other for a few moments and Liz silently prayed neither of them would broach the elephant in the room. Finally Matt broke the stand off by clearing his throat.

“Welp, have to get to work, so you ladies have a good day.”

“You too,” Liz said. Please hurry and leave.

Marge drew in a breath and Liz tensed. “Matt, wait, I—” She let out a slow breath and looked at the floor. “Matt, I think, I mean I’m wondering if you told the people at the hospital you were Bella’s father to protect Liz and Bella.”

Matt stood with his hand on the doorknob and nodded, looking directly at Marge as she raised her gaze again. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what I was doing. It wasn’t really well thought out, I realize that, but the nurse already thought I was the father, so it wasn’t much of a jump. I did ask her to keep it out of the paper, but she must have forgotten. I apologize if this has caused any difficulties for your family.”

Marge sighed. “It hasn’t caused anything difficult for us, it’s you I’m worried about Matt. What others might think of you. What the people at church are thinking.”

Matt laughed. “I’m not worried about that Marge.” His expression became serious again and his gaze drifted to Liz. “Liz and Bella are more important to me than all of that.”

Liz swallowed hard and she felt like instead of only being braless she was standing naked in her kitchen with Matt and her mom both looking at her, as if waiting for a response. She couldn’t respond, though. She didn’t know what to say. He’d never said anything so blunt to her before and she was having a hard time wrapping her mind around it.

“Anyhow,” he said before she had a chance to respond. “Off to work. You ladies have a good day.”

Liz turned toward her bedroom as soon as he closed the door behind him. She was not having a conversation with her mom about this right now. “I’m going to go get dressed.”

She filled her time before walking out the door filling her mom in on where the bottles of breastmilk were, how to warm them, and where the extra diapers were, not giving her a chance to broach the topic of Matt.

“Bye, Mom.” She rushed for the door. “Thanks again.”

“Good luck, honey!” her mom called after her.

In the car Liz gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath. She needed to focus on her first day back at work, not on Matt McGee.

Why had he said it that way? That she and Bella were more important to him than what people thought of him? And in front of her mom.

She growled in frustration as she turned the car toward the health food store, anxious to get her first day out of the way.

Houses (a short story for Christmas)

I wanted to share this lovely short story from Lisa today. Enjoy.

If you want to know a person, ask them about their houses. The house they grew up in. The first house they bought. The house they’ve always wanted. …

Houses (a short story for Christmas)

Sunday Bookends: preparing books for 2022, movies about singing fishermen, and slow progress but it’s progress!

Welcome to my week in review blog post where I ramble about what I’ve been reading, watching, writing, doing and sometimes what I’ve been listening to.

 

What I’ve Been Reading

 

My goal this week is to read a lot more but this week I read Saving Mrs. Roosevelt and started The Mistletoe Countess by Pepper Basham.

 

I have a Cat Who mystery I started the day I went into the hospital with Covid but I couldn’t get my brain to settle for obvious reasons so I never continued it. I’d like to make some progress on that these next couple of weeks the kids and I are on holiday break.

 

Other books I am looking forward to reading in the new year include:

 

The Rhise of Hope by Max Sternberg

 

A couple of Hercules Poirot books

 

Maggie’s Strength by Pegg Thomas

 

Relative Silence by Carrie Parks

 

Crooked House by Agatha Christie

 

Thunder and Rain by Charles Martin

 

The Dark Horse by Craig Johnson (more of the Longmire Mysteries. I have about 12 more books to read in the series)

 And many more I haven’t even listed.

 

 

I am also not one of those people who talks about how many books I read in a year. It is hard for me to keep track because my mom and I share a kindle account and she reads some 200 books a year. I have to go through and figure mine out compared to hers and it is very time consuming.

 

 

What I’ve Been Watching

 

Last week I watched a movie called Fisherman Friends, which I found on Amazon. It was exactly what I needed right now. It is the story of a group of fishermen in England who sang what are called sea shanties in their small town and were overheard by a music executive who decided he wanted to sign them to a deal.

 

The movie is based on a true story and follows the journeys of the men and the beginning of their careers.

Other than that I have been watching mainly comedians and my husband and I watched a couple of episodes I’d Lovejoy.

 

What I’ve Been Writing

 

Last week I shared two chapters of A New Chapter and shared a blog post about my roommate in the Covid wing  at the hospital and her positive outcome.

 

What I’ve been listening to

 

I have gotten a bit hooked on Matthew West of late so I have been listening to him at night or other times. He is a Christian musician and he also has a podcast.

 

 

What’s Been Occurring

I am slowly recovering from Covid and was encouraged this week to find many others dealing with the internal vibrating as a left over side effect. Some of these people have had this happen with other viruses like I did and we are wondering if this could be autoimmune or neurological or reactivating past infections. It has been a relief to read that while anxiety can make it worse it isn’t only anxiety or in our heads. Even those who do not have a history of anxiety are dealing with it.

 

Either way we are all sharing things (supplements, medicine, exercise, etc.) that are helping, even if only to take the edge off a little bit. For me CBD oil helps immensely so I am anxiously waiting for a delivery of some high quality oil this week.

 

I still have not ventured from the house on my own since my doctor appointment at the beginning of the month, mainly because the vibrating often gets worse the more I move and I don’t want to have a spell of them when I am out with the kids or even when alone.

 

I truly do believe things will even out soon with the odd symptoms and I will be able to do things on my own. I am discouraged but not desolate or hopeless, which reminds me of 2 Corinthians 4:8-12: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.”

 

We are all excited for Christmas this weekend. The kids have a couple days of homeschool and then a week and a half off. We will spend Christmas Day with my parents and maybe see other family (my brother and his wife) in the beginning of January depending on work schedules.

 

So that is my week in review. How about you? How  did last week go for you? What are you reading and watching etc? Let me know in the comments.

 

 

 

 

 

Book Review with CelebrateLit: Saving Mrs. Roosevelt

About the Book

Book: Saving Mrs. Roosevelt

Author: Candice Sue Patterson

Genre: Christian Fiction/Historical/Adventure

Release date: December 2021

Shirley Davenport is as much a patriot as her four brothers. She, too, wants to aid her country in the war efforts, but opportunities for women are limited. When her best friend Joan informs her that the Coast Guard has opened a new branch for single women, they both enlist in the SPARs, ready to help protect the home front.

Training is rigorous, and Shirley is disappointed that she and Joan are sent to separate training camps. At the end of basic training, Captain Webber commends her efforts and commissions her home to Maine under the ruse of a dishonorable discharge to help uncover a plot against the First Lady.

Shirley soon discovers nothing is as it seems. Who can she trust? Why do the people she loves want to harm the First Lady? With the help of Captain Webber, it’s a race against time to save Mrs. Roosevelt and remain alive.Click here to buy your copy (Celebrate Lit Affiliate Link)

My Review

Saving Mrs. Roosevelt is a great book to get yourself lost in. The story carries you along easily, so easily don’t notice it’s 1 in the morning and you should have been asleep hours ago. It had me biting my nails until the very end.

The characters are intriguing, captivating and people I, for one, would be honored to get to know.

Patterson does a great job of dropping breadcrumbs of information related to the mystery of the book, keeping readers guessing throughout as to who might be involved in a plot to harm Mrs. Roosevelt. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, she sends you down another path full of questions that you know you need the answers to

There is romantic tension in the book, but it isn’t overdone or makes you want to roll your eyes and gag at all. It is subtle and sweet.

If you like historical fiction, light and sweet romance, and intrigue, then this is the book for you.

About the Author

Candice Sue Patterson studied at the Institute of Children’s Literature and is an active member of American Christian Fiction Writers. She lives in Indiana with her husband and three sons in a restored farmhouse overtaken by books. When she’s not tending to her chickens, splitting wood, or decorating cakes, she’s working on a new story. Candice writes Modern Vintage Romance—where the past and present collide with faith. Her debut novel How to Charm a Beekeeper’s Heart was a 2012 ACFW First Impressions finalist and made INSPYs Longlist for 2016.

More from Candice …

The idea for Saving Mrs. Roosevelt literally came overnight. I had just finished writing a contemporary romance set in Maine, centered around a harbor town where lobstering is prevalent. My agent called me and told me about the Heroines of WWII series and asked if I’d be interested in writing a WWII novel. If so, I needed to come up with a story and proposal fast because spots were limited and filling quickly. My mind was so consumed with research of the lobster industry that I felt I couldn’t clear my brain fast enough to come up with another story on such short notice. That’s when I started wondering how I could take the knowledge I already had and make it work for a WWII novel. I googled Maine during WWII, came across an article that mentioned the SPARs, and the idea for Saving Mrs. Roosevelt was born.

I don’t want to give too much away, but the Nancy Drew deep inside me figured out a unique way to merge lobstering with espionage.

Though the plot is purely fiction, there are some characters and events that are historically accurate that were fun to include as well. I love Maine, but I’m Hoosier born and raised, and in my SPAR research, I discovered that Dorothy C. Stratton–the woman the Coast Guard asked to direct the SPARs–was the Dean of Women at Purdue University in Indiana. She was a woman of true character, grace, and strength. I knew right away she needed a cameo in my story.

Within twenty-four hours of receiving my agent’s call, I had plotted the entire story and sent a proposal. Weeks went by, and as fall ushered in its beautiful colors, my husband surprised me with a trip to Monhegan Island, Maine. We walked the trails, ate amazing seafood, and took in the gorgeous view. While on the island, my agent called again, this time to let me know that Barbour had contracted Saving Mrs. Roosevelt. What a special moment it was to be standing on the very shoreline where the book is set when I received the good news.

Since the book is set in Maine where the heroine works on a lobster boat with her father, I wanted to share my favorite recipe for Maine blueberry pie.

Maine Blueberry Pie

Ingredients:

2 Pie crusts

1 quart of fresh Maine blueberries

1 ½ tbsp lemon juice

Freshly grated nutmeg

¼ c light brown sugar

¼ c white sugar

¼ c flour

2 tbsp tapioca for thickening (if the berries are juicy)

 Directions:

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Place the berries into a large bowl, add lemon juice, and toss. Add the remaining ingredients and toss until the berries are well coated with the flour and sugars mixture. Line the pie plate with one crust. Put the berries into the pie plate and top with a solid or lattice-top crust. Bake for 35-40 minutes until the berries are bubbly and the crust is golden brown.

Giveaway To celebrate her tour, Candace is giving away the grand prize package of a $25 Amazon gift card and a copy of the book!!

Be sure to comment on the blog stops for nine extra entries into the giveaway! Click the link below to enter.Click here to enter the giveaway

Fiction Friday: A New Chapter Chapter 13

I shared Chapter 12 yesterday.

Chapter 13

Cold nipped at Matt’s nose and slipped down the back of his throat, tickling it, and leaving him coughing into his hand.

Jason nudged him in the ribs on his way past. “You sick? I don’t like hunting with sick people.”

In front of them, their breath mingled in white wisps, reminding them both that they were well into autumn and winter would be here soon.

Matt shot Jason a look. “I’m not sick. My body’s just not ready for it to be this cold yet.”

Jason paused at the top of the hill and looked down into the leaf-covered gully, catching his breath. “Have faith, we live in Pennsylvania. It will be warm again by next week and then cold again and then warm and then finally we will be plunged into a frozen hell for the next three months.”

Matt laughed. “True.”

Leaves crunched under their feet and Matt dodged a fall tree limb, peering into the trees, searching for the deer he’d shot but had taken off 15 minutes earlier.

“Hey, Matt, been meaning to ask you about something,” Jason shifted his gun on his shoulder.

“The birth announcement?”

Jason nodded. “Yep.”

“You want to know if I’m really the father.”

“I know you’re not. Gabe’s the father. Everyone knows that.”

Matt shrugged. “Not everyone. Just everyone close to the situation.”

“So . . . did she or you tell them you were the father?”

Matt paused and opened his thermos, sipping the coffee he’d made a few hours earlier. “I did. She wasn’t very happy about it. She told me to tell the nurse not to put it in the newspaper and I did but I guess there was some sort of miscommunication.”

Jason whistled. “Wow. That was quite a bold move on your part. What were you thinking?”

“That I didn’t want Liz and Bella connected to Gabe anymore than they already were,” Matt said with a sigh, screwing the lid back on the thermos.

“What did your mom say?

“She’s supportive. Luckily, I caught her before she saw the paper or anyone told her. Thank God for her being so busy with baking that week. I didn’t totally think it through, of course. Pastor Taylor asked me to step down from leading the teen boys, but the timing worked since I’ll be gone in a few more weeks.”

Jason cocked an eyebrow as he zipped his coat up under his neck. “He seriously asked you to step down?”

Matt started walking again. “He didn’t want to, but the parents were a little bothered by their boys being taught the Bible by a man who fathered a child out of wedlock.”

Jason nodded as she followed him. “I guess I can understand that but if they knew the situation —”

“If they knew the situation then they’d know more than they have any business knowing.”

They walked a few more feet in silence.

“What does that mean legally?” Jason asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you’re legally listed as her dad does that mean you are financially responsible for her?”

“I don’t think so, but if Liz ever needed help, I would. She’s pretty independent, though. I doubt she’d let me.”

Jason pointed down into a gully in front of them. “There it is. Looks like you got it after all.”

The men made their way down the embankment to the carcass of an eight-point buck. There had been a moment when it disappeared from sight that Matt had thought maybe he hadn’t killed it after all, and it was staggering through the woods injured.

He enjoyed hunting, but he was less of a fan if he injured an animal and then had to shoot it again to put it out of its misery. If he did hunt, he didn’t do it for sport. He’d clean and dress the animal and take him to the local butcher and use the meat for the rest of the winter, maybe even into the spring. The one benefit of living as a bachelor was that he could cook the same meal over and over again.

Matt knelt next to the animal and drew his knife. “Too bad he rolled down here. It won’t be fun carrying him out.”

Jason lifted his arms and flexed his arm. “Leave that to me, puny man,” he said in a thick European accent. “I can carry your haul for you. When you’re done, you go on ahead and get the ATV and I’ll meet you at the access road.”

Matt leaned back on his heels and quirked an eyebrow. “Puny man? Really? Just because your muscles are as big as my head doesn’t mean I am a puny man, Tanner. I’m perfectly capable of carrying my deer to the access road. Plus, let me point out that I got a deer today and you didn’t, remember?”

Jason laughed.  “Hey, come on. It’s barely nine in the morning. I don’t have to be back at the farm for a couple more hours. I still have time.” He leaned over and poked Matt’s bicep. “But you, little man, don’t have time to build up muscle before we need to carry this deer out.” He laughed again as he swung his gun onto his shoulder. “Seriously, I’ll head down for the ATV. It will take me a while to hike down and by then you should have this dressed and carried down.”

Jason was right, of course. He was more muscular. Having played football in high school and college, plus lugging heavy hay bales and farm equipment around every day, Jason did have a lot more upper body strength than Matt and almost anyone Matt knew.

And, well, Matt hadn’t exactly been trying to build bulk while training for the academy. Yes, he had been trying to get into better shape by running down the dirt road circle that led him three miles from the cabin and then back again, but, no, he hadn’t been working out at a gym almost daily like Jason did.

Jason had even convinced Alex to go with him to the gym at least three times a week.

Alex. The man who for years had scoffed at his friends at the mere mention of an exercise routine. Matt would guess that his dating Jason’s sister had changed his mind about working out, especially after Molly’s ex-boyfriend had shown up in town looking well-toned and charming.

“Before I go, I’m just curious,” Jason said. “Are you doing all this because you love Liz?”

Matt worked on the deer as he looked up at his friend. “Liz and I are —”

Jason scoffed. “Don’t tell me you and Liz are just friends, McGee. I see the way you look at her. You’ve been there for her every step of the way through this pregnancy, even though the baby wasn’t yours, and let’s be honest. Very honest. You’ve liked Liz since high school. You might be friends but I have a feeling at least one of you wants there to be more.”

Matt looked back at the deer, grinning. “Don’t you have an ATV to go get?”

Jason laughed as he turned to walk back up the hill. “Looks like someone can’t handle the truth today.”

Matt stood with the deer across his shoulders 20-minutes after Jason left, hooking his arms over the deer to hold it in place. He’d thought about what Jason had said the entire time he’d been dressing the deer and he knew Jason was right. Matt did want something more with Liz, but he was also content to be her friend right now. It was what she needed most of all.

Holding it in this position with a gun strapped to his back, he laughed at the thought of how ridiculous he probably looked, despite feeling slightly manly walking through the woods with his catch for the day sprawled across his shoulders. Now to remember which direction the access road was. Jason was more familiar with this section of the woods. His family had owned part of it for years and while Matt had hunted here with him off and on for the past 15 years, he still got turned around more often than not.

Walking up the gully to the hilltop opposite of how he’d come down, he looked through what felt like miles and miles of maple and ash trees but nothing else. He was fairly certain the access road was due east so he headed that way. When his phone rang ten minutes later he ignored it at first, but then when it stopped and then started again, stopped and started again, he worried it might be an emergency.

Laying the deer down wasn’t an easy feat but once the carcass was lying in the leaves, he zipped his camouflage jacket open and reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his coveralls.

“Matt. Where are you?” The voice sounded far away.

“Liz? Anything wrong?”

“McGee, I wanted to ask you the other  . .  didn’t you tell me . . .*static*”

He plugged a finger in his ear as if that would help improve the service on a wooded hill in the middle of nowhere. “Tell you what?”

Static. “. . .apartment . . .”

“Liz, you’re breaking up. Is something going on at the apartment?”

“No! We’re fine. I’m talking about . . .” Static. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The line went dead, and he looked at his phone screen, bewildered. Call lost.

Tell her what?

He walked a few feet forward and tried to call her back. No service. He moved a few steps back. Still no service. Great.

What was that all about? Should he go back down the hill and try to call her again? He shrugged.

She said everything was fine. He’d call her when he got back to the cabin. He needed to get this deer out and hung before the meat went bad.

Sliding the phone back into his inside pocket, he looked through the rows of trees and squinted. A rooftop peeked through the tree line, something he’d never seen before walking up here. He looked around and then leaned forward on his knees, looking lower. He saw what looked like junk cars scattered among the leaves. He leaned back up and after a few minutes of thinking realized he’d walked a little more south than east because he was looking at Bunky Taylor’s abandoned junkyard. Bunky had died a year ago and no one had been up to clean the site up, mainly because no one in his family knew exactly how to dispose of all the junk cars Bunky had collected in the 40 years he’d owned the junkyard and mechanic business.

The access road was a little further up more to the east. It wouldn’t hurt to take a shortcut through the junkyard, see how much it had grown over since it had been abandoned. He slung the deer back over his shoulder and headed down through the wooded area where he was able to get a better view of the junkyard and Bunky’s old house, a ranch home built on top of stilts with a makeshift carport built with two-by-fours and metal sheeting. The roof of the house was sagging in some places, red shutters askew on some of the windows, dark brown staining the gray siding.

A puff of smoke from the chimney drew his attention and he paused before walking down the hill through the vehicles, noting tools laying in the leaves next to one or two of them. It looked like someone might be living here after all.

He dropped the deer in a grassy area next to the dirt parking lot, located in front of the house. A swing set installed next to the house and a tricycle and other children’s toys scattered across the front lawn alerted him to the realization that a family must be living in the home, despite its dilapidated appearance.

“Can I help you?”

He turned to his right abruptly, startled by the voice. He was even more startled at the sight of a man walking from a crude shed practically hidden from view by two vintage rusted Chevy trucks and the limbs of a large oak tree that rose up from the middle of the junkyard and cast shadows like the spindly fingers of a wisped specter. The man wore a pair of gray coveralls smudged with oil and dirt, dark brown work boots obviously well worn, and was unshaven with black grease smeared on his cheek and forehead.

Although his hair was short in the back, strands of dirty blond hair hung down across his forehead and eyes. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed when he saw Matt and Matt didn’t have to guess why.

“Bernie. Hey. I didn’t know you were living here.”

Bernie kept his eyes on Matt while he continued to wipe his hands on the rag. He chewed on the inside of his lower lip for a few minutes, as if trying to decide how he wanted to answer.

“Moved in about six months ago. Rentin’ it from Bunky’s son.”

The tension in his response was evident, but why wouldn’t it be? Bernie had been released from jail about eight months ago and Matt was the cop who put him there. It wasn’t as if Matt expected the man to walk up and shake his hand.

Bernie tipped his head up slightly, jerking his chin toward the deer carcass laying in his yard. “Out huntin’?”

Matt nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yep. Bagged an eight-point. Supposed to meet Jason Tanner at the access road to the Shaffer’s property up the road away but got off course.”

Bernie smirked. “Guess you didn’t learn how to read a compass at that police academy.”

Matt didn’t hear the contempt in the comment that he expected he would. He laughed and Bernie smiled, revealing a few missing teeth on the bottom front row. Matt was about to excuse himself when he heard the squeak of the front door of the house and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. A small girl, maybe 7 or 8, darted down the paint-chipped steps with a boy of about 5 following behind. The pair ran to Bernie and tossed their arms around him the girl holding on to his waist, the boy to his leg, just above the knee.

“Hey, there.” Bernie ruffled the girl’s hair. “What you out here for?”

“Mom said to tell you breakfast is ready,” the girl answered, looking first at her father and then turning her attention to Matt, wide blue eyes boring into him.

“Did you come to take my daddy back to jail?”

The words hit Matt full force in the chest. She said them without emotion, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone found more often in an adult than such a young child. He wondered how she knew who he was and if he should be worried Bernie’s young daughter knew he was the man who had arrested her father.

Matt decided to be just as blunt. “No, ma’am. I was just hunting in the woods today and came here by accident. What’s your name?”

“Marlie and this is my brother Jerry.” Her direct tone and gaze unnerved him, but he had a feeling she’d had to learn to be tough in her short life and that thought unnerved him even more.

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

He looked back at Bernie thought about how Reggie had asked about keeping an eye on him and hoped he wouldn’t have to. He hoped Bernie had turned his life around if not for his own sake, then for the sake of his children.

As if reading his mind Bernie laid a hand on the top of his son’s head and cleared his throat. “I’ve kept myself clean, McGee. If you’re here to try to get dirt on me, you’re going to be disappointed.”

Matt held a hand up and shook his head. “Bernie, I assure you that I had no idea you were living here. What I told you about hunting and getting off track is the truth.”

Bernie nodded, frowned, and looked at the ground. “Okay then. I believe you. You’re not one for lying. Never were.” He chuckled, revealing his missing teeth again. “If you had been then I might not have been in jail for those six months.” He spit at the ground, shrugged a shoulder. “But, I deserved it. I know that. I got myself messed up with the wrong crowd. I have a talent for doing that, I guess.”

Matt knew it also didn’t help he’d been raised in the wrong crowd.

“I didn’t like arresting you, Bern. I hope you know that. There are very few people police actually enjoy arresting.”

Bernie ran a hand gently down his daughter’s, white-blond hair and tipped his head toward the yard, and looked down at her. “Why don’t you and Jerry go play a while, k?”

After the kids darted across the yard and back into the house, Bernie looked at Matt. “Sure did suck when you busted me, but maybe it was what I needed, you know? A wake-up call. Gotta hit rock bottom to come back up, right? I’m starting a junkyard and car business, turning over a new leaf, starting over. For the sake of Chrissy and the kids.”

Chrissy. That’s right. Matt remembered Bernie had married Chrissy Trenton from high school, another person who’d had a hard life.

“Glad to hear that, Bern. I wish you luck. I really do.”

Bernie nodded. “Thanks, McGee. I appreciate that.” He nodded toward the deer. “You better go meet Tanner. Don’t want that meat tainted.”

Matt turned and head back toward the dirt road next to the junkyard. He hoped Bernie was telling the truth and that he’d really turned his life around. Maybe the state police were wrong about Bernie. Maybe he wasn’t running a meth ring. From the quick glances he’d given around the property while walking into and out of it, Matt hadn’t seen anything that would toss a red flag up for him in relation to drugs, but he knew that the shed could have been one place to hide it.

Lord, please don’t let there be anything there. I don’t like the idea of taking a father away from his children.

Fiction Thursday: A New Chapter Chapter 12

Just a couple of notes: I wrote this chapter and several others after it before I got sick with Covid so if it doesn’t make sense, it was simply my normal brain fog. I also tentatively changed the name of the book from The Next Chapter to A New Chapter. We will see if I stick with that. What do all of you think? Don’t care? I wouldn’t blame you. Let me know in the comments.

For anyone new, these chapters are part of a book in progress so there are typos and errors and plot holes that I fix before I self-publish the book later down the road. Or hopefully, I fix them and don’t upload the wrong file like I did for a couple previous books. Argh! Anyhow, moving right along to chapter 12.

Chapter 12

Ginny looked at the dress and blouse Liz had lain on the bed and pondered it for a few moments. She turned to her closet and pulled out a blue dress and then a maroon one. The blue dress was sleeveless, like the black one. The maroon one featured short, puffed sleeves, which had never looked good on her. She eliminated it from her selection and looked between the black and blue dress.

Liz was probably right about the black dress. It would look nice with the white blouse pulled over it.

The problem was, Stan had seen her in all of these dresses. She worn the black one for last year’s banquet. She shouldn’t wear it two years in a row, should she? She could wear the white blouse with that blue skirt with all those funky swirling patterns on it. It had been a gift from Olivia. She hadn’t been brave enough to wear it yet.

She bit her lower lip and studied the skirt then slipped it on. It fell down to her shins, perfect to wear with those brown suede boots she’d picked up at the consignment shop at the beginning of summer.

She tried the boots on and pulled on the blouse then stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of the door.

Huh. Not too shabby.

She turned to the side and her gaze fell on her belly. It was slightly less pronounced than the last time she looked, but she would still need another few bike sessions before it went all the way away.

She thought about what Liz had said earlier. “Just wait until Stan sees you. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

Ginny’s chest tightened. Wouldn’t he, though? He was certainly able to keep his hands off her a lot these days. She couldn’t even remember the last time he’d hugged her, let alone held her in his arms.

The engine of Stan’s car rumbled in the driveway and she took a deep breath and reached for the necklace she’d laid out on the dresser. She needed to hurry. Stan loved to be early to these banquets.

She had already pulled out the suit he like to wear, along with the white shirt, blue tie and matching cuff links.

She looked at her earrings in the mirror, leaned back and took a deep breath. The outfit wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. She was out of time.

She descended the stairs and found Stan loosening his tie in the living room, looking down at an opened newspaper on the coffee table. “Hey, hon. I’ve only got a few minutes. I’ve got to head up and get dressed.”

“I set everything out for you,” she said, stepping off the bottom step.

He slid the tie he’d been wearing all the way off and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt. “Thanks.” He turned and started to walk toward the stairs then stopped. His brow furrowed and he frowned. “What are you all dressed up for? You have another night out with Liz? It isn’t time for the fundraiser yet is it? I thought that was in a couple of weeks.”

Her chest constricted. Was he joking? If so then that would be a departure from his recent demeanor. “What do you mean why am I dressed up. Your banquet is tonight, right.”

Stan was still frowning. He shrugged a shoulder. “Well, yeah, but you told me a few weeks ago you hate these things. I gave your ticket to Frank. He had a date he wanted to bring.”

She tossed the small black purse she’d planned to take on the recliner next to the couch and turned away from him, her hands on her hips. Her lower lip quivered, and tears stung her eyes but she wasn’t going to let him see she was upset. It wouldn’t matter anyhow. He’d probably call her too sensitive or remind her she was “going through the change and that makes everything seem worse than it is.”

“You don’t mind, right?” He walked toward the stairs.

She drew in a shaky breath and tried to keep her tone calm. “No. I guess not. It’s just that I go with you every year and —.”

He was half way up the stairs. “Yeah, but you’ve been so busy this year with the library and the fall fund raiser and now helping Liz. I talked about it with you the other day, remember?

“No,” she mumbled as the bedroom door closed upstairs. “No. I do not remember.”

She sat on the couch, smoothing the skirt down over her knees. Maybe he had talked to her about it. Maybe she’d been texting Sarah about the fund raiser at the same time. Maybe Olivia had called with another California Crisis while he was talking or maybe it was the day Clint had called to say they’d be moving back out in about a month now instead of the two months he’d thought it would be.

She bit her bottom lip and swiped at a tear that escaped the corner of her eye. It was just a banquet and she did hate them. They went on for every with every real estate agent who every walked and breathed in a three-county area taking the podium to update the attendees about every single accomplishment they’d had that year. Then there was Stan, accepting his award, thanking her and while he’d once meant it and they’d once been like a team, that wasn’t true anymore.

His appreciation of her wouldn’t be sincere this time. They barely knew each other these days. He’d be putting on an act at that podium, just like she was putting on an act now. She pulled her shoulders back, straightened her back as she heard the bedroom door open. Time to pretend she was fine with this. Time to pretend she didn’t care. Time to be a grown up and realize her life was changing.

She and Stan weren’t the people they used to be. Not every marriage was like Robert and Annie Tanner’s, close and romantic even 30-years later.

Some people just slowly grew apart and that’s what was happening with her and Stan. She’d never consider divorce, of course, but it was time to accept that their future years would most likely be lived mainly apart.y apart.

Their romantic moments had happened, and been wonderful, but that part of their life was over.

She barely noticed as he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Hey. You’re okay, right?”

She nodded and stood quickly, heading toward the kitchen, and tightening her jaw with resolve. “Of course I am.”

“Good and listen don’t worry about me. I know you support me. I appreciate that.” He pulled on his suit coat and reached for his keys. “Plus, don’t you have stuff you wanted to do before Tiffany and Clint come back? And what about Olivia, did she ever make up her mind about coming home?”

Ginny pulled a mug for her tea out of the cupboard by the fridge. “Hmm? Oh yes. She said she’s going to stay out there until Christmas break.”

He reached for his jacket and slid the keys into his pocket, walking toward the front door. “Good. That’s settled then. Okay, I’ve got to head out. There’s an abandoned warehouse out on highway 10 that Jake Landsdale wants me to look and I’m going to check it out before the banquet. We’re trying to track down the owners because there’s a huge commercial firm that is interested in the property. I’ve heard they might build a distribution center there. It would mean a lot of jobs for the area. I’ll call you on my way home and let you know how I did, okay?”

“Yeah,” she said at the already closed door. “Okay.”

She sat at the table and swallowed her emotion with a sip of tea. He hadn’t even noticed her hair, she realized as she propped her chin in her hand and her elbow on the table. She laughed softly, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Her prediction had come true. She had told herself he wouldn’t even notice, and he didn’t.

***

Stan turned his car toward Paskey Road at the bidding of his GPS, Ginny’s expression when he’d left the house still in his mind.

Well, that was weird.

Ginny hated these real estate banquets. Why had she seemed so annoyed that he had given her ticket away? He thought she’d be happy. Now she could stay home and read a book or bake or whatever else she did when he wasn’t home.

“Turn left onto Anderson Road.” The woman’s voice on the GPS was warm, soothing.

Ginny’s voice had once been warm and soothing. Now she just rambled about night sweats, the library, art classes, every single crisis their kids had going on, and most recently about Liz Cranmer. He scoffed, shook his head as he turned the car left. There was a development he hadn’t expected — her forming some kind of connection with their daughter-in-law’s younger, somewhat troubled sister.

He felt guilty calling Liz troubled. Just because she’d tried to kill herself last year didn’t mean he should be placing a label on her. Still, she was a bit, well, troubled. She’d lived a full year with that physical therapist who had made a scene a couple of years ago at a restaurant he and Ginny had been at. Obviously the man couldn’t hold his liquor very well.

“In half a mile, turn left on Henderson Road.”

A twinge of guilt tugged at him. He wasn’t supposed to even know about Liz’s suicide attempt, and he wouldn’t have if Matt hadn’t asked for prayer for her during the men’s meeting last year. Matt hadn’t said at the meeting what had happened or even named Liz. Stan had overheard him talking to Jason Tanner when he’d gone to get his coat. Matt had sworn Jason to secrecy but was deeply worried about Liz, not only her physical health but her spiritual health. Jason had promised to pray and to assuage his guilt, Stan had promised himself to pray for Liz too. He had prayed that night but knew he should have prayed for her more over the last year.

He couldn’t figure out what had drawn Ginny to the woman.

Maybe his wife felt like she needed some kind of project to occupy her time when she wasn’t at work.

He squinted into the setting sun, then reached for his sunglasses hooked in the sun visor.

Where was this building anyhow? He needed to check it out before he brought the representatives of that firm from the city here to show them the land. He also needed to find the owner to see if they would sell. This could be a big deal for the area. More jobs would be a definite boon to this area hard hit by recessions and crashing milk prices.

“Three-twenty-eight Henderson Road. There it is.”

The two-story brick structure was barely visible behind a veil of vines and overgrown trees and bushes. Sliding the car into park, Stan reflected again on his wife’s demeanor when he’d told her she didn’t have to go with him to the banquet. The way she’d flopped onto the couch, kicked off her boots. Brown boots he’d never seen her wear before.

There was something different about her too. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe her make-up. Was her lipstick a different color?

He shrugged a shoulder as he stepped into the chilly autumn air and headed toward the building. He didn’t see any signs posted, nothing to indicate who the building belonged to or when it had been built. It was clear, though, it wasn’t in use and hadn’t been for a long time. The windows were broken out, the shingled roof was breaking apart, large metal doors rusted at the top of a flight of stone stairs.

The metal doors were slightly open, and Stan wondered if he should investigate, but decided against it and walked around to the back of the building instead. Maybe he could find a clue to who owned the building there. From what he could remember, this building had once been a factory warehouse of some kind. Despite living in this area his entire life, other than the four years he’d spent away at college, he’d never heard definitively what the building had been.  

When he reached the back parking lot, overgrown with grass poking up through the cement and asphalt, he noticed there was another door around the back. It was cracked open like the front, a chain and bolt hanging down from the metal door handle as if it had been cut open.

It was probably someone living in the building, squatting as it was called when the person hadn’t been given permission to live there. Stan would report it to the building owner, if he knew who it was. He walked up the steps toward the door and reached for the handle, then hesitated. This was probably a job for the police, not a real estate agent used to sitting at a desk and on his way to a banquet in one of his best suits.

This building was in the state police’s jurisdiction and Stan doubted they’d come out and investigate a possible squatter. Matt might come with him on his day off, though, if the kid ever had a day off. It seemed like he was always working or volunteering somewhere, which is why it had surprised Stan when he’d read in the paper he’d had a baby with Liz.

When had he had any time for a dating life? Stan turned to walk back toward his car and laughed softly. Not like a man had to have a dating life to father a baby. Still, Matt didn’t seem the type to simply sleep with a woman and walk away. There had to be more to that story. Unlike Ginny, though, he didn’t have any interest or time to take on a personal project. Not too mention Matt’s personal life was none of his business.

He rubbed his hands together to brush off the dirt and slid behind the steering wheel. Turning the car on he realized he didn’t feel the anticipation he should be feeling at the prospect of earning another Real Estate Agent of the Year Award. These banquets really were boring. Having Ginny with him had always broken up the monotony, given him someone to chat with while the other agents droned on and on about their triumphs over the last year. She’d never been too hard on the eyes those nights either.

Oh well. Couldn’t be helped now. She’d probably changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt by now. He’d have to make it up to her next year, if he was nominated again. If he wasn’t, then maybe he’d stay home too. There were only so many speeches about real estate he could listen to and give.

He turned the car back onto the main highway toward the sportsmen’s club, the annual site for the banquet. No more feeling guilty about giving Ginny’s ticket away.

She hadn’t wanted to go anyhow.

This would be a good night. He could go talk shop with his fellow agents without feeling like he needed to rush her home.  Besides, she liked quiet nights at home with a cup of tea and a book. She was always saying how much she looked forward to nights like that.

Why was he even thinking about all this? There was nothing to think about.

He flipped the radio station to the oldies channel and leaned back. Singing along to Fat Domino he tapped his hand on the steering wheel.

Yep. It was going to be a good night.

Faithfully Thinking: The miracle I needed and others need too

I didn’t want to be moved to a new room in the hospital. I had just got comfortable in my private room in the Covid wing. I had also just fallen asleep for more than a half-hour to an hour at a time which had been plaguing me for two days. People weren’t interrupting me. I just kept jerking out of a Covid induced coma sleep terrified and feeling completely like I was outside of my body. It was awful.

 I had actually been in my first three hour stretch in days when I was woken up by Phil, my six-foot something Teddy bear of a nurse, and told I had to be moved to another room because they needed my room for a man since he couldn’t be placed with the woman who had just been brought in.

I had to have a roommate. That meant I couldn’t pray or cry out loud to myself anymore.

I was being moved? I had to lose the emotional support of the nurses I had come to love?

Wait. What?

Covid brain fog is no joke but Covid brain fog when you were asleep for the longest stretch in two days and have been woken up is even worse.

Before I knew it, I was being pushed down a hall, weepy, looking warily into a room at a woman who didn’t necessarily look friendly from my quick glance.

“She’s sick, Lisa,” I reminded myself. “She’s not going to look friendly right now.”

She was curled on her side, no covers, hand under her head. She’d probably been woken up too and wasn’t real pleased about it. I guessed her age to be somewhere in her 60s.

I was wheeled to my bed and climbed quickly to the safety of it, always afraid I’d get shaky and fall. The bed was my safety net, as sad as it sounds.

It was a bed that actually hadn’t been ready for me. The nurses had to quickly set it up and move me in. Everything seemed so haphazard and unorganized on this floor. Where had I been brought to?

In the bed I waited to be hooked up to the 24/7 pulse ox I’d had in the previous room. The nurses took my state-of-the-art pulse ox hook up off my finger and let me know that didn’t have a 24/7 setup in this room because the other patient had it. She was hooked up to monitors and IVs and I started to wonder if the hospital was cutting corners because of shortages and what would that mean to me? What if my oxygen dropped but they didn’t have me hooked up where they could see my numbers at the nurse’s station like they had in the previous wing?

I would realize later, when I was less panicked about it all, that I didn’t need to be monitored as well as my roommate because my oxygen numbers were doing well on the very low flow of oxygen I was on. I was monitored every few hours and if I was nervous at all I could call the nurse or an aide to check. My roommate, who I will call Betty for this post, was in much worse shape.  The machine was beeping every half an hour or so, letting the nurses know her oxygen was at dangerous levels, even on the higher flow of oxygen she was on. This was normally when she was trying to get to the bathroom or just rollover.

I spent a lot of time in the hospital praying for myself.

“Lord, save me.”

“Lord, don’t let me die.”

“Lord, don’t leave my kids without a mom.”

When I was put in with Betty, I found myself praying for her too.

I’m not someone special, some amazing Christian. I still prayed for myself. I’m human. I’m selfish. But praying for Betty gave me something else to focus on and, more importantly, someone else to focus on.

On Saturday night, a day after I’d been placed with her, an aide was begging Betty to put on a bipap to force air into her lungs. Her oxygen had dropped to 63 or 68 percent.

This young man, probably about 24 years old, who spent much of his time joking around, kneeled next to her bed and he said, in the sweetest, most pleading voice, “Betty, I need you to do this for me, okay? I need you to fight for me and this is one way to fight. Your family needs you, Betty. Please try this for me. I don’t want to lose you tonight, okay?”

Another nurse came in and together she and this young man convinced Betty to put on this Bipap (similar to a CPAP used for sleep apnea) so she could breathe. Watching that aid and that nurse was like watching a scene from a television show. He especially was like a real-life angel, not to sound too dramatic.

Betty was unable to keep the mask and device on for more than am hour before she said it was making her feel like she was suffocating. When the nurses were out of the room, I told her she was suffocating without it. I told her I would hold her hand while she fell asleep on it. She shook her head, thanked me, but said she just couldn’t do it.

“Betty, do you have a family at home?”

“Yes. I have grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”

“Fight for them, Betty.”

I walked around the curtain, shaky and tired, and laid my hand on her leg as she tried to rest, still trying her best to wear the Bipap mask. I asked God to help her keep the Bipap on so she could breathe. At that moment her oxygen rose from 85 to 98, well in normal range. She was not able to keep the Bipap on for very long, but it did help while it was on. A couple of hours later, her oxygen was dropping again, and nurses came in to raise the flow on her oxygen, which can cause damage in the long run. She sat up on the bed while they tried to figure out how to get the oxygen in her without ventilating her and her oxygen dropped into the 70s. I was pacing on the other side of the curtain, praying, in between begging Betty to try the Bipap mask again.

The high flow began to work, and Betty was able to lay down again and I worked on getting some sleep. Somehow both of us slept for four hours or so that night.

Betty and I didn’t have a lot of time to talk, in between her throwing up and trying to breathe well and sleeping, but I did learn she had a husband, grandchildren and also COPD and heart failure. I learned that she was okay with my praying for her, even out loud, and she said she appreciated it. She said she didn’t go to church, but believed in God. She also gave me her jello and some crackers, probably after she heard me telling my mom how I am hungry all the time and felt like the meals weren’t filling me. I didn’t understand why I was so hungry and wondered if it was the steroids I was on, even though they were a low dosage.

Two nights after I thought I was going to listen to Betty die, I was being discharged. I had to have one last dose of the anti-viral medication and I was a nervous wreck, worried that I would be this close to going home to my family and I’d have some weird side effect from the medicine. I hadn’t so far, but I had this fear I would this time and that they would keep me from my children and husband again. (Note: if you are ever in the hospital, don’t read what others have to say about the medication you are being given, especially if the person says it is a conspiracy and now you are going to have kidney failure.)

In the end, all that worrying about what the medicine might do, raised my blood pressure and the nurse hinted I was going to be unable to go home with my family who was downstairs in the parking lot waiting for me. My family had driven 45-minutes, I desperately needed them for my healing, and I couldn’t take the stress of waiting for Betty to die, while praying she wouldn’t.  

“I have to get out of this hospital,” I told the nurse. “I have to go home. You don’t understand.”

I couldn’t calm down. Watching a Christian comedian wasn’t even helping. The nurse said that after talking to the doctor, she was going to give me medication to lower my blood pressure and if it came down, I could go home.

The nurse was at the end of her shift, stressed, wanted to send me home but was worried if she did and something happened to me at home, she would one, feel horrible and two, lose her job. She’d had to report the high blood pressure to the doctor. She had no choice, but she knew I was upset. She started my discharge paperwork, in case my blood pressure came down, rushing in and out of the room to check my blood pressure in between trying to also discharge four other people. I closed my eyes and prayed, terrified I would not get home that night after being told I would.

My eyes popped open.

My dad had been encouraging me to talk to Betty about becoming a Christian, but “Daaaad, hello? Betty is just trying to feel better and breathe normally. I can’t be over there proselytizing.”

 So I had prayed silently for Betty, asking God to touch her and heal her. I’d also already told her she could call on Jesus anytime she needed him, silently or out loud.

Laying there, waiting for my blood pressure to come down, though, a thought popped into my head. “Pray with Betty one more time. Tell her how to ask Jesus into her life.”

I felt a little like maybe God was making me jump through a hoop, or maybe that I was looking too much into this delay, or like I was being a bit dramatic. I mean, come on. Was God really delaying my discharge so I would pray with Betty one more time? This was silly.

Silly or not, I prayed out loud with Betty, who I couldn’t see behind the curtain between our two beds, and who was waiting for a nurse to come help her to the bathroom. I told her that if she ever wanted to ask Jesus into her heart she could do so, and it could be as simple as asking him to come and be a part of her life. Or something like that. I’ll be honest here; I don’t remember exactly what I said. I was nervous, felt like I was being one of those Christians who looks for signs in everything, and wanted to go home. But I also wanted Betty to have some comfort while I was gone and wasn’t there to pray with or over her anymore.

Betty said she understood what I was saying, thanked me for praying for her and said she appreciated everything I had done. She wished me luck going home. She was exhausted but still wanted to thank me.

Fifteen minutes later my blood pressure had dropped a small amount, not really enough for the nurse’s liking, but enough that she worked out a deal with the doctor to send me home if I agreed to monitor my blood pressure with my cuff at home, to increase my blood pressure medication (which I hadn’t yet started at that point), and see my doctor in six days.

I was going home, and I was so excited and nervous all at the same time. I was also worried about Betty. I didn’t want to leave her alone in the hospital. Her doctor had said her family could visit her as long as they were masked and covered, and I hoped they would the next day. Still, who would be there to pray with her if her oxygen dropped again? Yes, of course I knew I could pray for her at home too.

After I was home, Betty was still on my mind even as I dealt with exhaustion and other symptoms. I knew the hospital couldn’t tell me how she was, since I wasn’t family. I called, though, and asked a nurse to tell Betty I was still praying. The nurse said she wasn’t supposed to tell me Betty was still there but that she was and that she would tell Betty I was praying.

Then I went to Facebook, did some sleuthing and found Betty’s account. From there I found a family member, or so I thought anyhow, and messaged them out of the blue, asking if they could give me an update on Betty.

To shorten the story, not only did this family member give me an update, but she also gave me Betty’s cellphone number at Betty’s request.

I texted her and she responded that she couldn’t talk right then.

I knew she was probably still fighting for her life so I texted back I understood and told her I would be praying.

Two days later Betty called me on my cellphone.

Her voice was clear, she wasn’t gasping for air, and she told me they had lowered her oxygen from 30 or 40 Liters to eight a couple of days earlier and that that day they had lowered it that day to 6 liters. At home she is on 4 liters at all times because of her COPD.

“My lung collapsed two days ago,” she said. “But I’m feeling better. I can eat, I’m coughing up a bunch of junk they wanted me to cough up and they say I might go home in two days.”

To say I was shocked by this exchange is an understatement.

This woman who was one step from being ventilated (something doctors try their hardest not to do anymore because of the damage it does, they told me) had just called me to tell me she was going home in two days.

Going home.

Not to ICU.

Home.

Wow.

Here I had been worried I would be reading her obituary and instead I was hearing the woman say to me, “I credit the good Lord above for this and I’m going to take better care of myself when I get out of here. Yes, I am.”

We agreed we would keep in touch, even after she left the hospital and I told her we will stop in and visit sometime when we are up in her area.

The next day she texted me and told me she was home.

The situation with Betty taught me a couple of things. It didn’t teach me that I’m some great Christian. Not at all. I prayed with Betty, but I wasn’t bold or confident about it. I was hopeful God would heal her, but I worried He wouldn’t.

However, meeting Betty taught me to be a little bolder in my faith at least. I think the fact I had brain fog from Covid probably made me a little braver too. I didn’t have the brain capacity to overthink like I usually do, which was a gift from God, even though I prayed for the brain fog to be taken away. He knew if I could think something like, “I look like some weird fanatical religious person doing this,” I wouldn’t actually pray out loud over Mary, asking Jesus for her healing. I couldn’t think that because my brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Not even close.

The time in the hospital showed me that I need to hold on to Christ when I feel like I can’t hold on to anything or anyone else. I had faith that the nurses and doctors would try to help me, but I knew only God could really heal me and protect me and I had to keep reminding myself of that. I wasn’t some super, confident Christian in that area. I had to listen to my mom, a pastor’s wife, and friends tell me that. Over and over.

I worried after my diagnosis that I or my husband would be a statistic. Or the rest of my family. Then I worried Betty would. Or members of other families who had it at the same time would. There were many times that Christ’s peace settled over me and a few moments later I would worry again and wipe it all away. I’d have to pause, pray and ask again for Christ’s peace.

In addition to strengthening my reliance on God, meeting Betty also taught me that God is still in the business of miracles.

There is so much sadness in the world. There is heartache, bitterness, hatred, hurt, and there has been deep, deep loss because of this virus. But there are also miracles like mine and Betty’s happening.

When I looked at my oxygen levels on Thanksgiving Day and saw it was lower than I’d read it should be during COVID, I panicked. When my husband went to get the car and it dropped even lower while I walked, yet I still felt pretty good, I completely panicked. While we waited for the ambulance, I pondered why I felt okay, why I wasn’t gasping for air. On the way to the ER, I wondered if the trip was wasted. In the ER when they finally said my blood oxygen was showing lower in the blood gasses than on the pulse ox and hooked me up to oxygen, I still wondered if my being admitted was necessary. I still wonder if the oxygen would have come back up on its own or not. I know some others have while others have not

Maybe I overreacted or maybe it was all divine.

Maybe the ER doctor was over cautious and if he was then I am still thankful because he very well may have saved my life.

I am also thankful for his actions, not because his decision meant I spent five days away from my family, but because his decision led me to meet Betty and through Betty see a miracle.

It was a miracle that I, and many others, needed right now in our lives.

Sunday Bookends: World War II Espionage, still recovering, and getting back into writing a little

What’s Been Occurring

Yep, I’m still recovering from COVID. No, I’m not 100 percent yet.

Yes, I still have the trembling or vibrating, but some days it is a little better than others. It never goes away 100 percent. I also have vertigo but dealt with that before Covid.

This week I remembered something else about when this happened on a smaller scale in 2017. I also had a virus when the vibrating started too back then. Weird, I know. It’s almost like certain viruses trigger some sort of auto immune response in my body. I don’t know but for now I am taking CBD oil to try to at least reduce the issue and it does seem to help.

The brain fog and fatigue are at least getting a little better.

Because I am still recovering, we haven’t done much that requires me to leave the house, other than to visit my parents.

I stay in the house and write and do homeschool with the kids, so not that much different than before.

What I’ve Been Watching

I have been watching a lot of clean comedians on YouTube in the last two weeks. A lot.

I went on a Ken Davis binge for a few days and then it was Chonda Pierce.

I’m watching anything that will make me laugh right now.

Last night we watched Free Guy on the advice of my brother and really enjoyed it.

What I’m Reading

This week I am finishing Saving Mrs. Roosevelt by Candice Sue Patterson.

Here is a description to whet your appetite for my review next week:

The Safety of the First Lady Rests in Shirley’s Hands

Shirley Davenport is as much a patriot as her four brothers. She, too, wants to aid her country in the war efforts, but opportunities for women are limited. When her best friend Joan informs her that the Coast Guard has opened a new branch for single women, they both enlist in the SPARs, ready to help protect the home front.
 
Training is rigorous, and Shirley is disappointed that she and Joan are sent to separate training camps. At the end of basic training, Captain Webber commends her efforts and commissions her home to Maine under the ruse of a dishonorable discharge to help uncover a plot against the First Lady.

Shirley soon discovers nothing is as it seems. Who can she trust? Why do the people she loves want to harm the First Lady? With the help of Captain Webber, it’s a race against time to save Mrs. Roosevelt and remain alive.

I’m not sure yet what I will read after this one but I do have a preview of the sequel to The Rhise of Light by Max Sternberg, which I am excited to dig into, and another author sent their book to me to read too.

What I’m Writing

I’m working a little bit on my third book in the Spencer Valley Chronicles series, which I have renamed A New Chapter, I think. I’m not sure. Maybe.

I wrote about 900 words Friday, which is not a lot but considering all I’ve had gone on with my health this week, I’ll take it.

I’m also working on blog posts here and there and managed to share one post this past week:

Faithfully Thinking: Peace That Passes All Understanding

Tomorrow I plan to have an update post on my roommate at the hospital.

What I’m Listening To

I’m listening to a lot of Christian music still.

One artist that is on my radar this week is Matthew West.

My daughter loves this song and sent me a recording the other night of her singing it in the back of her dad’s car on the way back from Awana (a Christian program at my parent’s church). She sent it through Messenger Kids which she uses with her little friends.

So that is my week in review. What’s been going on in your world? Let me know in the comments.