Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 105

Sunday Bookends: A short update. A few books. Annoying TV characters. A little trick-or-treating and the last of fall.

Welcome to Sunday Bookends where I talk about what I’ve been reading, watching, listening to, doing, and sometimes what I’ve been writing.

What I’m (We’re) Reading

I finally finished Another Man’s Moccasins by Craig Johnson, which kept getting pushed aside because of books I was reading for book tours.

This week I should finish The Love Coward by Naomi Musch and I am starting The Inn On Hanging Hill by Christy Barritt.

Little Miss and I finished Tolliver’s Secret for school this week. At night we are reading These Happy Golden Years, which I haven’t read since I was maybe ten. I am completely caught up in this book as I re-read about Laura’s romance with Almanzo. I didn’t remember the stories about her rivalry with Nellie Olson and I found myself reading ahead after Little Miss fell asleep. It was a lot of fun to do Nellie’s stuck-up voice; though I feel my effort was lost on Little Miss who kept falling asleep.

Speaking of Little Miss, I think I need a new blog nickname for her. Little Miss makes her sound stuck up. She’s opinionated and sometimes a bit bold and bossy but she isn’t stuck up. I’ll have to think about a new blog name for her down the road.

Anyhow, I have digressed.

The boy and I are reading Blood Brothers by Elias Chacour. I don’t participate in non-fiction November but this could count.

What I’m Watching

I’m watching The Eliott Sisters and I’m waiting for the one sister to get what is coming to her because she is having an affair with a married man and she’s totally arrogant about it. She’s a terrible character right now. She’s always sure her latest relationship (we are on three or four and this is only the second season) is “the one” and it never is.

The other sister is just very stuck in her ways and is overly intense.

The show is set in 1920s England follows the lives of a pair of sisters running a fashion business.

Why do I keep watching the show? Because sometimes making fun of shows is a nice distraction from the trials of life.

What’s Been Occurring

This past week we did almost nothing because the last key fob to our van broke and we have had to wait for a replacement before we can start our van. Even after we get the replacement in the mail, I have to go to a dealership to have it programmed.

On Saturday we went to a trunk-or-treat and trick-or-treating event in a town about 30-minutes away as a family. We met up with some friends for the event and my husband also took photos for his job at the local paper.

The earlier part of the week was warm so we enjoyed some time outside for school before the cold weather set in, along with rain, on Thursday.

This week we have the last science class for the fall at a local children’s camp and a grooming appointment for our dog. Our son’s 15th birthday is next Sunday.

What I’m Listening To

Last week I watched The Dove Awards, which TBN put on YouTube. I enjoyed the performances by Natalie Grant, CeCe Winans, and Zach Williams.

So that is my week in review.

Let me know what you’ve been reading, watching, listening to or doing in the comments.

Fiction Friday: The Next Chapter Chapter 7 Part II

This is a story in progress. There may be typos, plot holes, etc. They are corrected (if my computer saves them in the right place unlike my last book. Grrr!) before publication in the future.

To catch up on the rest of the story click HERE.

Chapter 7 Part II

The house was set back off a dirt road, under the canopy of a pair of towering maple trees that Matt had been trying to convince his mom to cut down for five years now. The paint had faded some so that it wasn’t white anymore, but an off-white, closer to tan. The black shutters showed some neglect, even though Matt had painted them a few years ago, shortly after his dad had passed away. His chest constricted at the memory, how he’d painted them out of guilt more than vanity.

He needed to get down here and paint them again, as well as the whole house. Living in the middle of nowhere, five miles away, in a cabin that he and his dad had built when he was a teenager and working full time as a police officer, as well as studying for the state police academy, shouldn’t be an excuse. Then again, add in volunteering for the local pregnancy care center, his work with the Boys and Girls Club, filling in for Dan Trenton as a Boy Scout leader once a month, and helping with the youth at the church, and he didn’t have much time for painting or help his mom keep up the property the way he wanted to.

Hopefully, when his young brother, Evan, came from college for winter break he would help more. His older sister, Melanie, helped when she was able, but she had her own life — along with the lives of three children — to balance.

Pulling his truck up in front of the house, he shut off the engine and looked up at the front door, set back inside a wide front porch. Inside his mother was most likely busy creating in one way or another — either with food or her sewing machine. The house would be warm and inviting, the atmosphere one where he could easily relax and maybe even take a nap if he had time. He didn’t have that luxury, though. Not today. Today one of his best friends was getting married, while the other one would be moving into his cabin with him, staying there on his own during the week when Matt went away to the state police academy in two months.

He still couldn’t believe he’d been accepted to the academy at his age. He would be older than most of the other recruits, but he didn’t intend to let that slow him down. He’d had a dream of being a member of the state police since he was ten years old, and a trooper had let him sound the siren at a local safety fair. In two months that dream would be a reality and he was excited, yet also on edge. He’d be leaving his mom, unable to come to visit her every other day like he did now. For six months he’d live three hours away during the week and be able to return only on the weekends, helping her with the upkeep of the property. After that, he wasn’t sure where his first assignment would be. That would be up to the state police.

Leaving his mom wasn’t the only aspect of all of this that had him on edge, of course. There was the worry that he would flunk out of training, yes, but also the ache in the center of his chest at the thought of not being able to see Liz and Isabella.

He smiled at the thought of holding the tiny newborn that day in the hospital, how it filled his chest with more delight than he’d ever expected. He’d never thought he wanted children of his own up until the day his sister had given birth and let him hold her firstborn. Holding his niece had triggered something in him, a feeling which had lain mostly dormant until he’d held Isabella and laid her on Liz’s chest. Liz had been exhausted, hair matted with sweat, but she’d also been beautiful; the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in fact.

How was it that pregnancy and labor had made her even more beautiful to him? He had no idea, but he needed to stop thinking about all the things that weren’t in the cards for him — if he believed in cards instead of God — including Liz.

He needed to stop thinking, period. He had a lot to do today, starting with getting dressed for Jason’s wedding.

The sweet smell of apples and cinnamon hit him as he walked inside the house, the screen door squeaking, making a stealthy arrival impossible. Stepping through the parlor into the kitchen he found the source of the smell. His mother was standing next to the stove with her back to the doorway, stirring a long wooden spoon in a pot of applesauce she was preparing for canning.

Looking over her shoulder, his mom smiled. “There you are. It’s about time. You’re cutting it close, aren’t you?”

“All this for me?” He gestured toward the empty jars on the table.

 “Some of it for you, of course, but not all.” You’re not the only one who likes my applesauce on your pantry shelves all winter.”

He leaned over his mom and kissed her cheek as he dipped a finger in the applesauce. He stuck the finger in his mouth, chuckling as his mom gently slapped him in the shoulder.

She gestured toward the hallway. “Go on and head upstairs. Those cufflinks you were looking for are upstairs on the dresser. The shirt is in the walk-in closet in the spare room.”

It had been six years since his dad had died but his mom still kept a jewelry box full of various items of his on top of her dresser. Inside the small brown wooden box, he found the small gold cufflinks, engraved with the initial M, his dad’s old watch, still somehow ticking, a handful of change, and his dad’s class ring. He’d had the change in his pocket the day he died and somehow his mom couldn’t seem to let go of it.

She’d managed to move some of his clothes to the spare room two years ago, giving the rest of it away to goodwill or Matt and his brothers. The white dress shirt was the one Alan McGee had worn to his daughter’s wedding, held the year before he’d passed away. Matt considered himself lucky he and his dad were the same sizes. He’d needed a dress shirt for the wedding and his was at the dry cleaners after he’d bled on it while apprehending a drunk outside of Mooney’s a couple of weeks ago. It’d been quite a left hook but hadn’t caused much damage other than blood from his nose, luckily.

He snatched up the cufflinks and the shirt, pushing back the memories. He’d have to focus on that later. He didn’t have time to dwell on sentimental emotions. Heading back down the stairs he breathed in deep the smell of cooking apples.

His mom switched off the burner and reached for another full pot on the back of the stove. “Found them?”

He nodded and reached for a chocolate chip cookie sitting on a tray on the counter. He scanned the kitchen as he shoved the cookie in his mouth, taking in the canning jars filling the table and sitting along the counters, three trays of freshly baked cookies, two loaves of banana bread cooling, and two pies sitting next to an empty pie carrier near the fridge.

“Whoa. Mom. What’s going on? You opening a bakery?”

Rebecca McGee set the pot on the table next to a row of empty canning jars and smiled. Her 5-foot 3-inch frame looked even smaller when she was barefoot like she was now. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the stove and the rushing around. Matt knew she called herself plump and maybe she was compared to some, but he preferred to call her “fluffy” because that’s how she felt when he hugged her. Her blond hair, growing lighter by the day, was swooped upon her head in a fluffy bun, wispy strands fluttering around her forehead and face as she moved between the stove and kitchen table.

She slapped her son gently on the arm. “Very funny. No. I overextended myself. I agreed to bake something for three different community organizations.” She gestured toward the tray of cookies behind him. “That reminds me, I need you to take those cookies and pies to the Tanners for the reception. I’d take them myself, but I told Millie Baker I’d bring her the other two trays of cookies for the Friends of the Library bake sale fundraiser and I need to seal these jars up before I leave. If I time it right, I should be able to get the cookies to Millie, the banana bread to the pregnancy care center for their dinner tonight, and then make it back before Ellie walks down the aisle. If you take the cookies, then I won’t have to try to balance them while rushing to find my seat before the ceremony starts.”

Matt stole another cookie. “First, it isn’t really an aisle. It’s just a path between the chairs in Jason’s backyard. Second, you could have asked me to help you with the other deliveries too. I would have had plenty of time if I’d known.”

Rebecca placed a funnel in the mouth of a jar then paused, hands on her hip as she took a deep breath. “Oh, it’s fine. You have enough on you today.” She sized her son up for a few seconds, which made him stop mid-bite.

“What? Do I have crumbs on my chin?”

“How’s Liz and that beautiful baby?”

His chest constricted. Alert. Awkward conversation ahead.

“Um. . .” He commenced chewing. “She’s tired but good. Isabella is even more beautiful than when I first met her.”

Rebecca’s hands were still on her hips. “Mmhmm. Right. About that day. When you first met her. The moment she exited Liz’s womb. In the front seat of your truck. We haven’t had a chance to talk about that.”

Matt snorted a laugh. His mom was nothing if not blunt. “Nothing to talk about. We went for a ride to the pond, and she went into labor. That’s all.”

“And you two are . . .what? Friends? More than friends?”

Matt walked to the fridge. “Got any milk?”

He could feel his mom’s eyes boring into his back as he opened the door and reached for the carton. “You know the Tanners are going to be making a special milk sometime next year. They’re building a bottling plant and have already tested a good portion of their jersey cows.”

He reached for a glass in the cabinet next to the fridge, keeping his back to the woman who gave birth to him, the woman who could read him better than anyone, the woman who was not going to back down from this conversation without divine intervention.

“Annie told me. She also told me about the corn maze and the pumpkin farm they’re planning for next year.” He didn’t have to turn around to know she’d folded her arms across her chest. “Matthew, you know I like Liz. I like her a lot, but I don’t want to see you hurt. What’s her relationship with Isabella’s dad? If it’s who I’ve guessed it is, I hope she isn’t in any relationship with him. I don’t often say this, but he’s a waste of space at this point in his life.”

Matt guzzled half the glass of milk and dragged his hand across his upper lip as he turned around and leaned back against the counter. “Liz and I are friends, Mom.” He shrugged a shoulder and drank the rest of the milk, turning quickly to put the glass in the sink. He filled it with water like he knew his mom would ask him to. “I’m just helping her out. Gabe’s not in the picture right now and I don’t think he ever will be.”

Rebecca sighed, a long deep sigh, with a tinge of sadness. “Okay then. If you want to stick with that story, then —”

He laughed. “Stick with what story?” He slid an arm around her and hugged her against his side. “You worry too much, Mom. Listen, we’ll talk more about this later, but right now I have to get over to Jase’s before his head explodes.” His phone dinged as he released her. “See? I bet that’s him, telling me to hurry up. I bet Alex is falling down on the job, and he wants me to replace him as his best man.”

Rebecca shook her head and kissed his cheek. “Well, whatever is going on between you and Liz, feel free to bring her out here soon for some lunch. I’d love to finally get a look at that beautiful baby, and the woman who has my son so flustered these days.”

Flustered? He was not flustered.

He snatched the shirt from over the back of the chair, pushed the cufflinks into his front jean pocket, and waved over his shoulder. “See you at the Tanner’s later, Mom. Don’t work yourself too hard. Wouldn’t want to be too tired to interrogate me more later.”

“And don’t think I won’t, my boy.”

Matt smiled and shook his head as the screen door slammed behind him. At least when his brother came home from college, she’d have someone else to focus her attention on.

She was a persistent woman. The only problem with her planning to interrogate him was that he didn’t know what to tell her. He didn’t know what he and Liz were.

Friends? He hoped so.

More? No. They weren’t but he certainly wouldn’t protest if she wanted to be.

He glanced at his phone’s lock screen as it rang. Looked like the topic of conversation was trying to reach him. He didn’t have time, though.

He tapped the decline button and shoved the phone in his pocket. He’d see her soon enough at the wedding. They could talk then.

Faithfully Thinking: Trusting God in the Waiting

Several times in the last week I have heard someone — either online friends or pastors — talk about trusting God in the waiting seasons of our lives. Those seasons could either be when we are waiting for God to answer our prayers about an issue or when we are waiting for Him to tell us what step we should take next in our lives.

I have been in those times of waiting and I am there again. This time there are a few issues I am waiting on and my issues are not any more serious than anyone else’s. In fact, they are probably much less serious than some I know right now.

No matter how serious the issue or concerns, though, God is with us in the waiting. There is always a reason we are in a holding pattern in our lives. Maybe God wants to show us something or maybe he simply is asking us to draw closer to him in our time of uncertainty.

Pastor Larry Bray recently said in a sermon at Elevation Church that when there is a period of waiting in our lives, many of us fill that empty space with other things. We fill it with fear, with anger, with bitterness, with hurt toward God and some of us fill it with excuses. We also try to pray the space away instead of asking ourselves what we can learn in the waiting.

I know when I faced an extended time of loneliness, I prayed for God to take it away and “fix it.” I didn’t like the loneliness and quiet and feeling so alone. I still don’t. I’m still somewhat in that place and it’s very uncomfortable. Being alone and feeling like an outcast is in some ways normal to me but it’s also an uncomfortable place to me. (An aside: because I feel like I’m an outcast or alone doesn’t mean I am either of those things. We can feel something but that doesn’t make it a fact. As I’ve heard said before — a feeling is not fact and fact is not a feeling.)

When I was asking God to change my situation, I was rejecting anything he might want to teach me through it. I still don’t really understand this period of isolation I’ve been walking through, but I do see some positives. I have found myself in a time of more simplicity; a time where I can learn more about what God wants for my life. I wish I could say this time has pushed me to read my Bible more, have more quiet times with Christ, but I haven’t always filled my waiting time with what I should be. I’m not saying that I haven’t ever found myself with more time to do a devotional or read the Bible and not taken that opportunity, but I have not taken the opportunities as often as I should have.

Are you in a period of waiting?

Do you find yourself standing in the middle of where you were and where you want to be?

Maybe it is with a health concern or a career choice or even a relationship.

Is there a way you can “hunker down”, so to speak, in this time in your life and practice patience while you wait for God to show you what he wants in your situation?

I’m horrible at practicing patience.

When God handed out patience, he obviously sprinkled a tiny bit in me, hoping it would grow naturally. Sadly, I obviously have the talent of killing what God has placed in me to grow in the same way I have a talent for killing all plants.

But maybe those things I think I’ve killed are really not all the way dead. Maybe they are only, to borrow a term from The Princess Bride, mostly dead. They are still alive enough that with a little bit of watering and feeding from God’s word they can regain their strength and grow the way God intended them to.

I may never have perfect patience, but maybe I can have just enough to stop my striving and instead listen to what God wants me to learn in my waiting.

Once we’ve learned what we need to do during our time of waiting, then we can step forward into the future God has planned for us, leaving doubts and mistrust behind. Our time of waiting may be short, or it may be long, but no matter how long it is, God will be there with us.

The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. Lamentations 3:25

Sunday Bookends: fiction with real messages, books for book tours, and a little trick or treating

Welcome to Sunday Bookends where I talk about what I’ve been reading, watching, listening to, doing, and sometimes what I’ve been writing.

What I’m Reading

I finished two books this week but I was almost done with both of them.

I finished The Rhise of Light by Max Sternberg (a Christian fantasy book) and my first Terri Blackstock book, Double Minds.

Double Minds was a raw look at the not-always-perfect world of Contemporary Christian Music and how even Christians fall into the trap of fame and power. That trap can lead to lies and murder, or at least it did in this fiction book. While I have had heard a couple stories about the lies and power traps within the Christian music community, I luckily have never heard of a murder case.

I am sure there are also many women in the industry who have struggled with the body issues that one of the characters in this book did. I’ve heard about Blackstock’s books before and how they are clean but also very honest and raw, not afraid to pull aside the curtain and show that Christians struggle like everyone else.

The Rhise of Light held my attention all the way through, even though I’m not usually a fan of fantasy books or movies. I posted a review of it yesterday.

This week I am continuing The Love Coward by Naomi Musch and am determined to finish Another Man’s Moccasins by Craig Johnson, since I have been interrupted by other books since I started it some three or four months ago.

After that I have a small list of books I need to read for book tours or reviews by mid-November or early December.

Those books include:

Saving Mrs. Roosevelt by Candace Sue Patterson;

A Convenient Risk by Sara R. Turnquist;

Heart of Stone by David James Warren (the last book in the Rembrandt Stone Series and oh my gosh I am sooooo excited I get to read it early!);

The Inn on Hanging Hill: The Beach House by Christy Barritt;

and Songs in the Storm: Wind River Chronicles by Kathy Geary Anderson (written by a woman in my writing critique group so I have actually already read this and I really enjoyed it. I’m not a huge fan of historical fiction, but I got caught up in the lives of these characters.).

What’s Been Occurring

This past week was a fairly relaxed week other than the cat drama I wrote about earlier in the week.

From Thursday to Friday our temperature dropped about 20 degrees and Little Miss ended up with her normal weather change sickness. She always develops a fever of about 101 when the weather changes, it lasts about a day, and it’s done.

About three weeks ago this happened but she had a legit cold because my son got it as well.

We went to a trunk-or-treat event in the town where my husband works yesterday and I only allowed Little Miss to go if she wore her mask, which she was fine with since it was part of her costume (Spider Gwen from a parallel universe). She was pretty tired from not sleeping well the night before but didn’t want to miss seeing her friends and getting candy. She immediately told her friends to “social distance!” in case she could get them sick.

What I’ve Been Writing

I’m working on The Next Chapter, but am taking a different approach than my last books. I am actually trying to develop lists for my characters so I know exactly where they are going in the story and why. The main reason for doing this with this book is that I have three point of views and therefore three character arcs I need to make sure develop, but also interconnect at some point in the book.

I am also trying my hand at a little bit of plotting, versus writing by the seat of my pants. I still don’t like strict plotting before I start writing, but with three POVs, I will need to have some idea of where the story is going to go as I write.

I’ve always been a bit of a hybrid writer, or at least since book three that is. I write my books mainly by the seat of my pants, but I also plan out chapters as I get going, writing down a few thoughts about what I want to happen in future chapters.

Last week, I didn’t share a ton on the blog. I wrote a post about our tree climbing cat and shared a chapter from The Next Chapter. I’m sure most of the chapters I am sharing will change  a ton before the book is finally published sometime in the spring.

What I’m Watching

I did not watch a ton this week. My husband and I started season four of Lovejoy (which I talked about last week).

What I’m Listening To

I listened more to Crowder’s new album Milk and Honey this week and love it.

So that’s my week in review. How about all of you? Reading anything good? Watching anything interesting? Let me know in the comments.

Book Review The Rhise of Light by Max Sternberg

Book: The Rhise of Light

Author: Max Sternberg

Genre: Christian Fantasy

Description: This is not your typical Christian Fiction story…

The entirety of living civilization stands on the very brink of death. Undead hordes have rampaged across the world. Determined to do his part, Leon Rhise left his wealthy father’s estate and chose to defend the last living kingdom by joining the military. It had seemed to be a good idea at the time.

After his career in the airship navy came to an abrupt end Leon arrived home, hoping for a warm reception. Instead, he was abruptly tossed out. Disowned, unemployed, and friendless. All hope seems lost. Then Leon discovers a mysterious relic, which opens up the possibility of him becoming a Judge: a hero of legend. One that has not been seen for centuries.

As Leon travels the road less taken his destiny converges with newfound companions, each one surrounded by mystery. Advised by strange beings in dreams and visions, Leon learns that the undead onslaught the world has suffered is part of a much larger problem. A solution can be found by learning about the forgotten being known as Adonai. But the world is ending, and time is running out.

Delve into a world that brings a unique twist and interpretation to faith-based high fantasy. With emotional highs and lows, certain peril, dysfunction, and humor; tough questions are asked, and answers will come to light.

My Review

Let me get this out of the way first: I don’t read fantasy, Christian or not. I just don’t do it. But I’d met the author of this book in an online writing group, and he seemed nice so I thought I should read it to support him. I dragged my feet on it. I did. I cannot lie. I was like a little child. I folded my arms across my chest, slouched down on the couch and pulled my hood down over my face.

I pushed my lower lip out. “I don’t like fantasy books. All those ridiculous names and magic and sword battles with fantastical creatures.”

I huffed out a breath and grabbed my Kindle. “Fine. I’ll try it, but only because Max is a nice guy.”

Now, after reading The Rhise of Light, I can’t say that I will keep reading fantasy, but I can say I will read more fantasy written by Max Sternberg.

The Rhise of Light is not only full of well-written prose and dialogue and good, smart fun. It is also deeply theological, thought-provoking, and spiritually moving.

I fell in love with the main characters, Leon, Miala, Duame, and Kelleren but then there were even more characters to fall in love with as the book went on.

Creative well-developed characters and his descriptions make you feel like you are right there and all the characters are alive and real – whether they are human, elf, dwarf, dog, or an undead zombie.

Sternberg paints a vivid image of the world Leon and his friends live in, so vivid that sometimes it is a bit scary, considering that when people die they immediately become undead zombies who want to kill everyone else, no matter how nice they were in life or how they died. The only way to kill them for good is to dispatch them a second time and often in a grisly way.

Sternberg doesn’t pull any punches in fight scenes, but he also isn’t overly graphic. He weaves humor in the midst of heavy and serious and touching in the midst of heartbreaking.

Perhaps you’re not a fan of fantasy either. Don’t overlook this one because of your preconceived notions. You might just be as surprised and as enchanted as I was with Sternberg’s debut novel.

Book Review The Rhise of Light by Max Sterberg

Book: The Rhise of Light

Author: Max Sternberg

Genre: Christian Fantasy

Description: This is not your typical Christian Fiction story…

The entirety of living civilization stands on the very brink of death. Undead hordes have rampaged across the world. Determined to do his part, Leon Rhise left his wealthy father’s estate and chose to defend the last living kingdom by joining the military. It had seemed to be a good idea at the time.

After his career in the airship navy came to an abrupt end Leon arrived home, hoping for a warm reception. Instead, he was abruptly tossed out. Disowned, unemployed, and friendless. All hope seems lost. Then Leon discovers a mysterious relic, which opens up the possibility of him becoming a Judge: a hero of legend. One that has not been seen for centuries.

As Leon travels the road less taken his destiny converges with newfound companions, each one surrounded by mystery. Advised by strange beings in dreams and visions, Leon learns that the undead onslaught the world has suffered is part of a much larger problem. A solution can be found by learning about the forgotten being known as Adonai. But the world is ending, and time is running out.

Delve into a world that brings a unique twist and interpretation to faith-based high fantasy. With emotional highs and lows, certain peril, dysfunction, and humor; tough questions are asked, and answers will come to light.

My Review

Let me get this out of the way first: I don’t read fantasy, Christian or not. I just don’t do it. But I’d met the author of this book in an online writing group, and he seemed nice so I thought I should read it to support him. I dragged my feet on it. I did. I cannot lie. I was like a little child. I folded my arms across my chest, slouched down on the couch and pulled my hood down over my face.

I pushed my lower lip out. “I don’t like fantasy books. All those ridiculous names and magic and sword battles with fantastical creatures.”

I huffed out a breath and grabbed my Kindle. “Fine. I’ll try it, but only because Max is a nice guy.”

Now, after reading The Rhise of Light, I can’t say that I will keep reading fantasy, but I can say I will read more fantasy written by Max Sternberg.

The Rhise of Light is not only full of well-written prose and dialogue and good, smart fun. It is also deeply theological, thought-provoking, and spiritually moving.

I fell in love with the main characters, Leon, Miala, Duame, and Kelleren but then there were even more characters to fall in love with as the book went on.

Creative well-developed characters and his descriptions make you feel like you are right there and all the characters are alive and real – whether they are human, elf, dwarf, dog, or an undead zombie.

Sternberg paints a vivid image of the world Leon and his friends live in, so vivid that sometimes it is a bit scary, considering that when people die they immediately become undead zombies who want to kill everyone else, no matter how nice they were in life or how they died. The only way to kill them for good is to dispatch them a second time and often in a grisly way.

Sternberg doesn’t pull any punches in fight scenes, but he also isn’t overly graphic. He weaves humor in the midst of heavy and serious and touching in the midst of heartbreaking.

Perhaps you’re not a fan of fantasy either. Don’t overlook this one because of your preconceived notions. You might just be as surprised and as enchanted as I was with Sternberg’s debut novel.

Fiction Friday: The Next Chapter, Chapter 7 Part I

To catch up with the rest of the story, click HERE.

“I’m thinking of taking an art class at the community center,” Ginny said to Stan as she poured a glass of orange juice and set it next to his uneaten breakfast.

Or rather, she said it to the newspaper in front of his face.

Ginny had been thinking about what Sarah had said about her needing a new hobby when she’d hung a flyer on the announcement board the day before.

Sketching class. All ages. $35 for three classes, $15 per class afterwards. Wednesdays 7-9. Spencer Valley Community Hall.

Sarah was right. She did need a hobby. Something for herself. She’d attended a couple of the general art classes, but this was a class specifically about sketching. A more focused medium that she could focus on instead of focusing on how drab her life had become.

The art teacher, Alexandra Dupre, a name Ginny was convinced was fake, had handed the flyer to Ginny as she left the sewing class, asking if she would hang it in the library.

Ginny had taken a few art classes in college, but of course that had been decades ago now. It would be nice to try something new, get out of the house on those days when Stan was working late, which was almost every day lately. It would also be nice to have a normal conversation with other adults – adults that listened, unlike Stan.

She set a glass of juice next to her own plate and sat down. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s silly but I think I should pick up a new hobby, meet some new people.”

Stan reached around the paper, picked up his glass of orange juice and slurped it.

He slurped orange juice. He slurped soup. He slurped any liquid and sometimes he even slurped ice cream. Why did he do that? It drove Ginny crazy.

“Umm…yeah,” Stan mumbled. “Nice. Did you know that they are predicting a rise in prices for homes in this area in the next year thanks to the natural gas industry?”

 “I used to paint in college,” Ginny said, spreading grape jam on her toast.” Do you remember that?”

“Of course, the hard thing right now is trying to find a way to sell all that land the farmers are leaving behind,” Stan said. “The local farms are dropping like flies anymore. It’s sad.”

Ginny added creamer to her coffee and stirred it slowly, looking out the kitchen window at the neighbor’s bird feeder. “I think it will be good for me to try something different so I’m asking Sarah to close that night. She is the one who suggested it anyhow.”

 “I got a call about another farm up on Henderson Road. About 250 acres. Pretty sure we’ll have to break those acres up to sell them off.”

Ginny leaned against the counter. A blue jay landed on the bird feeder and flapped its wings at a chickadee. “I wonder if I’ll need to buy some extra supplies.”

Stan folded the paper, laid it down, and buttered his already cold toast. He crunched into it as he stirred creamer into his coffee. “I might can market it commercial, but that’s going to be a really hard sale. It isn’t on a major highway like the Drake’s farm out on 220 was. Still can’t believe they’re going to put another Dollar General there. Those things are popping up everywhere. They multiply like baby rabbits.”

Ginny dropped three drops of liquid Stevia into her coffee. “I think I might have some old paint brushes in the closet. Or maybe it’s the shed. Oh wait, I think I put them in the attic.”

Stan slurped his coffee again. “The farmhouse won’t be hard to sell at least. It’s beautiful. Who knows, maybe someone will have an idea how to farm the property again and it will sell as is. Maybe they could put some organic stuff out there. Organic food is popular with the younger generation these days.”

“I bet there are some canvases up there too,” Ginny said, sipping her coffee.

Stan took another bite of toast and made a face. “Welp, off to show that property out on 187.”

He snatched a piece of bacon off his plate, stuffed it in his mouth, and grabbed his briefcase from the chair next to the back door. “See you later tonight.”

He brushed his lips against Ginny’s cheek in a quick movement on his way toward the back door.

Ginny rolled her eyes as the door closed behind him. “So glad we had this talk.”

She had the morning off of work, but sadly she couldn’t enjoy a nice day of sitting on the back porch reading a book this time.

She made a face as she reached for the grocery list she’d tacked to the fridge. Grocery shopping. The activity she hated almost as much as washing dishes. She looked down at her stained shirt, realizing she’d dripped strawberry jam on it, and decided she’d better change.

Ten minutes later she looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door ten minutes later and winced. She was getting quite a belly. She turned to the side and grimaced. Her pants were hugging that belly like cellophane over a watermelon. She turned again, groaning. Just look at that. Her butt was the other side of the watermelon.

Maybe that’s why Stanley was so busy these days. Who would want to look at this all day if he didn’t have to? She couldn’t say she blamed him. Straightening her shoulders, she tried to suck in her belly and push out her chest.

Oh my.

Her chest was rushing toward her knees. Getting old was not for the faint of heart. Maybe she should take Hannah McGee up on that spinning class she’d invited her to. Ginny wasn’t exactly sure what spinning really meant but she hoped it was the spinning of stationary bike pedals and not some New Age activity involving spinning in place in the middle of the room. She hadn’t been able to spin in place for years; it always made her dizzy.

Of course, everything made her dizzy anymore.

Down in the kitchen Ginny reached for the grocery list she’d made after reading about a new diet in the Good Housekeeping. Surely eating more fruits and vegetables and less bread would help her lose some of those pounds she’d put on over the years. She touched the skin under her chin and sighed. Maybe it would also help her get rid of the gooseflesh she’d developed in various areas of her body as well.

Ginny couldn’t remember worrying about her weight much over the years, except after the birth of her children and once in college when she had gained the so-called “freshman ten,” which had been more like the freshman “twenty”. Before she hit middle-age she had lost the weight quickly, simply by walking more laps around the track at the high school and cutting out sweets. Now none of those tricks were working. She knew she’d have to step up her game if she wanted to see results.

Avocado

Fat free milk

Green leaf lettuce

Almonds

Salmon

Kale

B-vitamins

Grass-fed butter

Grass-fed beef

Coconut oil

Olive oil

Lean, organic chicken breasts

She looked at the start of her shopping list and sighed. It looked like eating healthy was going to be an expensive endeavor, but if Stanley could spend money on golf outings and an extra sports channel to watch the Cubs then she could spend money on getting healthy.

She finished the list and snatched up her purse, deciding now was a good of a time as any to do the shopping. Stanley was at work, and this was her one morning a week off from the library. She chose the larger, chain supermarket in town for her shopping, hoping they’d have some of the more eclectic items on her list. Inside the store she squinted in the bright fluorescent light, silently lamenting her ever-changing eyesight, including developing light sensitivity.

“Excuse me,” she said to the bored looking, 20-something year old blonde girl stacking apples in bins. “Can you tell me if this store carries —” she looked at her list, adjusted her glasses to the tip of her nose, and squinted again.  “Organic cassava flour?”

The girl turned, an apple in her hand, and wrinkled her nose. “Sounds foreign to me. Is it foreign? Because we have a foreign food section. Aisle 10.”

“I don’t know.” Ginny looked at her list again. “I suppose it could be foreign. I’ll look in that aisle.”

The girl turned back to filling the bin of apples, tossing them with a swift flick of the hand like she was in some kind of competition to see which move could bruise the fruit faster.

In aisle ten Ginny looked for the cassava flour but only found coconut milk from Thailand, which she decided to try, and corn tortillas that were supposed to be from Mexico but were actually made in Cleveland. She dropped both in her cart and when she looked up Liz was walking towards her, pushing a cart with a baby seat sitting snug on top.

“Escaped the library again, huh?”

Ginny smiled as Liz’s cart stopped next to hers. She leaned over to get a closer look at Isabella. “Only for a little while. It’s my morning off.” She kept her eyes on the soft features of the sleeping newborn for a few moments longer before looking at Liz. “You look a little more rested since I last saw you. Are you?”

Liz pushed a straight strand of dark hair behind her ear. “A little more yes. We managed to catch a couple three hour stretches last night. She woke up once to nurse and then we were both back to sleep. We didn’t even wake Molly this time. It was heavenly.”

Ginny remembered well the euphoria of experiencing long stretches of sleep after weeks of waking up once an hour, even though it had been 22 years since she’d last cared for a newborn full time.

“It must be nice to get out a little bit, even if it’s just to the store.”

Liz agreed and for a few minutes the women compared items in their cart, with Liz making a face at a few of the items, most of which she’d been exposed to at her job at the local health store.

“Linda carries the cassava flour in three-pound bags,” Liz said, tilting her head to look at Ginny’s list. “She also has coconut flour but that is much more fine and has a sweeter flavor.”

Linda was Liz’s boss at the health food store, which Ginny had stopped visiting the year before when Linda had suggested she purchase a pack of tarot cards along with her apple cider vinegar and gluten free bread.

Ginny slid her bifocals to the tip of her nose again to see the list better and was about to ask which flour Liz thought might spur on some weight loss, when a man’s voice filled the brief silence.

“Ginny? Is that you?”

Ginny looked up in surprise, her glasses still on the tip of her nose, and found herself starring into a pair of intensely green eyes. Her gaze drifted from the eyes to a charming smile and back to the eyes again. Was she supposed to know this good-looking man? More importantly, how did he know her?

“Um . . .yes?”

The man ran a hand across his rugged jawline and a dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth as he smiled.

“Ginny, it’s me,” he said with a small laugh. “Keith.” He raised a hand in Liz’s direction. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny caught a small smile from Liz.

“No problem,” Liz responded. “We were just discussing the price of tea in China.”

Keith grinned. “It depends on what kind of tea you want. Right now, it’s about $40 American for 500 grams of oolong. It’s a little less for black tea.”

Liz snorted a laugh, but Ginny simply stared. Her mind raced, trying to figure out how this attractive man knew her. He turned his attention back to her and an anxious buzz skittered across the skin along her arms as it hit her.

Keith? No. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be Keith Sta —

“Stafford,” he said as if reading her mind. “Tell me I haven’t gotten so old you didn’t even recognize me, Ginny.”

It wasn’t age that had left her in the dark. It was placement. She’d never expected to run into Keith in a supermarket some 35 years after she’d last seen him. She knew exactly where she’d last seen him too. Standing on her parents’ front porch, his hands in his pockets, speaking to her through the screen door, begging her to come outside and speak to him.

 “Keith. I’m so sorry. It’s just, it’s —”

“Been such a long time. I know.” Keith laughed and her heart lurched at the familiar throaty timbre. “About 30 years since we last saw each other, isn’t it? And I’m sure I don’t look the same.” He shrugged a shoulder, grinning. “I’ve changed and probably not for the better.”

Ginny disagreed but felt it would be inappropriate to remark that his looks had only improved with age. “Now, Keith. That’s not true.”

He grinned and when he folded his arms across his chest Ginny noticed muscles rippling along his forearms. Apparently, he’d been working out. “You haven’t changed at all, Ginny Lynn.” Her face flushed warm as his gaze traveled the length of her, all the way down to her simple black flats, and back to her face again.  “You are as beautiful as ever.”

She laughed softly and shook her head, pulling her gaze from his and focusing on the handle of the cart instead. His appearance might have changed, but his ability to flirt certainly hadn’t. “Well, I don’t know about that, but it’s nice of you to say.” 

“I mean it. You look amazing. Truly.”

Ginny smiled. “Thank you, Keith.” She reached for another can of coconut milk to avoid making eye contact, completely forgetting Liz was still there until she heard the younger woman cough softly and say, her voice dripping with amusement, “Well, I should probably finish my shopping and let you two catch up.”

Ginny glanced at Liz, trying to catch her eye. Don’t you dare leave me, Liz. Not now.

“Oh, no need to leave on my account,” Keith said with a furrowed brow.

Yes, see, Liz, no need to leave on his —

“Actually, it’s almost feeding time for the little one so I really should finish up and head home before I have a screaming newborn, but thank you. It was nice to meet you.”

Keith flashed one of his charming smiles at Liz and held his hand out.

Liz took it, smiling away, clearly not sensing Ginny’s inner panic. “You too, Keith.”

Keith stepped aside as Liz pushed her cart past him and glanced into the car seat. “Oh my. Beautiful baby you have there.”

Liz threw a smile over her shoulder and thanked him while Ginny frantically searched her brain for a way to convince Liz to stay. When no ideas came, she turned her attention to Keith who was obviously interested in small talk by how he said, “So, how’s life been treating you all these years?”

Ginny loaded two more cans of coconut milk into her cart. “Good. It’s been good.” She wished she’d had a more exciting life story to share with him. “Taught middle school for 20 years and now I’m the town librarian.”

“That’s great.” His eyes were intently focused on her, sending warmth spreading up the back of her neck. “Married, I’m guessing?”

“Of course.” Ginny raised her left hand to show her wedding ring, then remembered she’d removed it the other day because it was digging into her swollen finger. “Oh. Well, the ring is usually there, but . . .well, I had to take it off to — uh —”

Keith grinned. “It’s okay, I believe you. So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Stanley Jefferies.”

Keith’s eyebrows raised. “Ah, so you two did end up together after all.”

“Yes.” She nervously fingered her necklace.

“Glad to hear you two made it,” Keith said. “I married a woman I met in college, but, well, as things go sometimes, we divorced last year.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not.” Keith laughed, shifting his basket from one hand to the other. “Divorcing her was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve never felt so free. I decided to move back here to my hometown, buy a cabin, and run my business from there.”

“Oh, what business are you in?”

“Software development. My partner and I started it about ten years ago. Before that I worked for Microsoft. I fly out to L.A. once a month to touch base, more if I’m needed.”

Ginny tightened her grip on the shopping cart, feeling suddenly even more fat, old, and boring next to Keith, who was as handsome and charming as he’d always been, definitely led a more successful life, and had obviously been keeping in better shape than her. His T-shirt pulled against a firm, flat stomach, short sleeves revealing well-formed upper arms as he reached up on a shelf for a carton of organic chicken broth.

“You ever use this? It’s great for flavoring chicken dishes.”

“Oh yes. I have.” Had she? She really couldn’t remember. Why had she said she had? She looked away, cleared her throat. “Well, I should get going. I’m buying so-called healthy food so I should probably head home and figure out how to cook it.”

Keith nodded, flashing that captivating smile again. My goodness his teeth were straight.

“I understand that. I’m trying to eat healthier too.” He patted his stomach, as if there was something there to pat other than a clear six pack. “Let me know if you need help on figuring out some recipes. I’d be glad to help. My ex was a horrible cook, so I did most of the cooking. Hey, here.” He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cellphone. “Give me your number. I’ll text you so you’ll have my number if you need it.”

Ginny felt uneasy, yet flattered, that Keith was asking for her number. She gave it to him and watched as he typed it in his phone then sent her a quick text. “There. Now you have my number too. I hope to hear from you sometime. It would be great to get together with you and Stan for dinner one night. I’d be glad to do the cooking.”

Ginny moved a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail from her forehead to behind her ear. “Sounds good.”

After they’d said a goodbye and Keith left, she mentally chided herself for being so awkward.

Sounds like a plan? What sounds like a plan? Does anyone even say that anymore? Oh, my word I’m such a loser.

She tried to finish the rest of her shopping trip without remembering how Keith’s muscles had rippled under his shirt or how confident and laid back he’d looked when he’d pushed his hand back through silver flecked brown hair, laughing easily as they talked.

Keith Stafford. The boy who stole her heart in the tenth grade and broke it in eleventh grade. She’d never forget how he’d made her feel, first elation with a pounding heart, then hurt with crushing rejection. It had been Stan who had rescued her the last half of her junior year, mainly by being her friend and simply asking her to walk with him, go to the movies, or visit the arcade.

She let out a quiet breath as she walked briskly toward the checkout line. Stan was different now, of course, but they all were. People change, including her. Changes were what life was all about, whether she liked it or not.

Her phone dinged as she waited in line. Sliding it out of her purse she smiled at Liz’s text.

Do I need to come rescue you? I just finished loading my groceries, but I can rush back in and chase that man away from you if you need me to.

Ginny laughed softly and quickly responded. Already rescued myself, but thanks anyhow.

Liz texted again. Not that you looked like you really wanted to be rescued  . . .

Oh, yes, Liz. Yes, I did want to be rescued, she thought, but didn’t text it back. Instead, she told Liz to have a good day and she’d stop by soon with an extra baby carrier she’d found in the garage.

Once upon a time the cat went up a tree and . . . had to be rescued by the fire department

I’m sure I’ve written before on here about our young cat and her propensity to climb trees. She’s escaped the house and bolted up a tree probably 10 in the last year we’ve had her. Usually, she comes down on her own in an hour or so. We worry every time, but we’ve grown accustomed to worrying and having her come sauntering up to the house later in the day or evening.

Here she is in our small tree in our side yard a couple of weeks ago.

 We also usually know when she’s left the house. Monday, though, we realized something was amiss when none of us could find her in the evening. My son had two friends over and my son remembered the kitten (who is no longer a kitten technically), Scout, had run into the basement when his friend had come over. He went to look for her, but she wasn’t there. We looked in all her normal nap places and figured she’d come out eventually. After an hour or so, she didn’t, so I went outside and called for her. She didn’t come but I thought I heard her meow. I went back inside and tried again an hour later. Still, nothing.

Around 9 p.m., I tried again and this time I clearly heard her meowing. I knew then she’d got herself stuck up a tree. My husband, my son and his friends grabbed flashlights and worked on finding her. We found which tree, could hear her, but couldn’t see her at first. She wasn’t coming down and my husband had to go to bed because he had to work early the next morning. Everyone went inside but I went out another time to see if I could convince her to come down. When I went out, I turned the flashlight upward and saw green glowing eyes looking at me like a specter some 40 feet up. She’d made it all the way to the top of the tree somehow. Her eyes looked either like stars in the sky or something other worldly.

In that moment, I had a sinking feeling I might not see her alive on the ground again. She seemed unable to move to get down and I knew none of us could get up. I went to bed but couldn’t sleep. I kept looking out the window at the tree, hoping I would see her at the bottom, strolling toward the house, like she so often did. Instead, I found my son at 12:30, sitting under the tree, looking heartbroken. He was blaming himself for her getting out, even though he’d never opened the door from the basement to the outside.   I tried to sleep but woke up a couple of times to look out the window.

My son’s photo of her way up there in the tree. This is zoomed in.

After my husband got up, our neighbor, who is on the town council, saw him looking up the tree, knew what was going on (since he’s witnessed us looking up trees for this cat very often), and offered to have the fire department stop over.

My brother had said the night before that we should call the fire department, but the first time this happened with her, I’d searched online and learned that is a no-no these days. Fire departments, especially volunteer departments, don’t have time to be retrieving cats from trees. They’re too busy working their other jobs and only get called out for real emergencies. There have apparently also been a number of incidents of firefighters being injured rescuing cats and I certainly didn’t want that to happen in our case.

The guy from the borough (that’s what towns are called in Pennsylvania), a member of the fire department, my neighbor, and my husband and I were eventually all staring up the tree. The fire chief (I think he was the chief anyhow) shrugged a shoulder and said, “Eh, cats usually come down on their own after a while.” But he added, “If she doesn’t come down by this afternoon, let us know and we’ll bring the truck over.”

The borough man (I’m not giving his real name because I don’t have his permission) told me he’d swing by a couple of times during the day to see if she’d come done. I thanked him and headed back upstairs because I had slept wrong, bending my neck oddly, and had a horrific headache. Later in the morning, I went down to the tree and sat, eating some cereal, and talking to Scout, hoping it would coax her down. She came down a couple of limbs but panicked and scampered up again.

I didn’t feel like sitting out there with my neck feeling so awful, so I went back in, did a few things inside and made a salad. I headed back out and that’s when the guy from the borough drove up in his truck and said something along the lines of, “The ladder truck’s behind me.”

Oh man.

I was so embarrassed that they were bringing their big, expensive truck up to save our small cat, but there they were. It was in that moment, much like the moment on Labor Day when the town’s ambulance came to take my daughter to the emergency room, I was grateful for small towns and how kind the people in them can be. We have a town of 600 people and what they say about small towns taking care of their own really is true.

The entire time they were there, I kept worrying that someone would need the fire truck while they were up here rescuing our cat, but they assured me they would head out if they got a call. Luckily it was only the man from the borough and one volunteer fireman but then the ambulance pulled up. I was so nervous that they were there in case the fireman fell off the ladder. The ambulance crew did have to leave on a call, backing down our street to get there. I hope they got to the call in time.

The fireman had a heck of a time with Scout who swatted at him several times. He was wearing heavy gloves and his heavy fireman’s coat and I thought he would just reach out and grab her but I think he was afraid with the way she was squirming that he’d dropped her. Plus she has huge stinking paws since she is a polydactal.

So he and his fellow volunteer firefighter (the borough man I mentioned before) devised a plan to convince her to crawl down on her own.

He found a blanket and swatted at her repeatedly until she started to back down the trunk of the tree. This worked for about ten minutes and then she got pissed and ran right back up to the branch she felt safe on. So then he started shaking the top of the tree and using the blanket. He was trying these tactics and others for a good 40-minutes and I was more embarrassed with each minute that passed.

These men had other jobs they were taking their time away from. I tried to tell them to just leave her up there. I don’t think they wanted a small cat to defeat them, though. My son and his friends and my daughter were watching, as well, and I don’t think they wanted to disappoint them.

Either way, Scout finally started to scoot her way down the tree, hissing and yelling at the guy the whole time. We even got a broom handle for him to poke at her with. She started to fall a couple of times so I went to the bottom of the tree and had The Boy come with me. Once she was low enough to reach her with our ladder, The Boy climbed up and yanked her off the limb and into his arms.

I felt a mix of emotions. I felt relief and joy that she was alive, yes, but I also felt insanely annoyed at her for causing so much drama and I started contemplating giving her away, while simultaneously being unable to imagine our house without her.

I profusely thanked the firefighters while my son took her to her upstairs bathroom and locked her inside with food and water so she could recover. They told me it was no problem and that’s what they do as volunteers. Excuse me as I get a bit teared up at this because we often take our public servants for granted. They sacrifice a lot to be there for us and I am extremely grateful for their willingness to serve, either for no pay or for very little.

It’s true that each cat has their own personality and that they do become like members of the family. Our all-black cat, Pixel, can be super moody and smack or bite if you touch her wrong and she will tear up the backdoor if we don’t let her out when she’s ready. But, she’s also a cuddler when the weather gets colder – if only for about 5-10 minutes and she waits for us to turn the water on for her in the bathroom so she can take a drink from it, scowling at us if it isn’t set at the right velocity for her.

Scout, on the other hand, is like a 9-year-old child with occasional ADHD. I hope this doesn’t come out as rude because I know children and adults with ADHD, or have known them, and they are some of the coolest, smartest people. What is neat about them is that they can be super hyper one minute and then incredibly laid back with a “whatever” attitude the next. Scout is like that. One minute she’s chasing the dog or darting out the back door and the next she’s looking at us with half-open eyelids from the couch, bored out of her mind by us. I suppose some of that simply describes all cats, but it is also uniquely Scout.

Scout was still a stinker after her rescue. You think she would have learned her lesson or at least acted appreciative of all the effort to rescue her, but nope. She scowled at me when I went to check on her in the bathroom and then stood by the door and looked at it like, “Excuse me. Why am I not being allowed out to strut around my domain again?” I still had friends of my son to take home and I knew I couldn’t trust her not to try to run outside again.

This distrust was further proven to be correct the next day (yesterday) when she rushed to the backdoor to escape every time we opened it.

She must have learned a little something from spending an entire, 36-degree night, in a tree because she seemed much more affectionate that night and the next morning. I found her on top of my dresser the night after her rescue and she purred as soon as she saw me and gave my hand a good cleaning while I petted her. Sometime in the wee hours of yesterday morning I felt her nose against my nose.

I was too tired to open my eyes, but felt her rubbing her head against my face and mouth and heard the purr. I could tell she was trying to flop herself between my head and the pillow. I vaguely remember reaching up and petting her in the darkness and would have thought it was all a dream if I hadn’t woken up with her curled up in her favorite spot on the pillow opposite my head.

As for solutions for preventing all this from happening again, we are mulling our options. We could declaw her, but then she will be defenseless if she slips out again. Other solutions include at least trimming her claws, putting a collar with a bell on it so we hear her if she runs out and can hear the bell when we go to look for her, and placing chicken wire around the bottom of the two bigger trees around us so she can’t run up them as easily. If any of you have any other ideas, please feel free to let me know in the comments.  

For now we’ll just keep an eye on her because while we love her, we have a sinking feeling she might be possessed in some way. We may need to do an exorcism at some point.

Sunday Bookends: Do you listen to podcasts? Suspense novels and remembering when Doctor Who was a good show

Welcome to Sunday Bookends where I talk about what I’ve been reading, watching, listening to, doing, and sometimes what I’ve been writing.

What I’ve Been Reading

Up for reading this week is The Rhise of Light by Max Sternberg, which I will finish this week, Double Minds by Terri Blackstock in hardcover, and The Love Coward by Naomi Musch on Kindle. 

I also need to catch up on Blood Brothers, which I am supposed to be reading with my son. He is reading this book for his social studies/English. Here is a description of this important book, written in 1984:

As a child, Elias Chacour lived in a small Palestinian village in Galilee. When tens of thousands of Palestinians were killed and nearly one million forced into refugee camps in 1948, Elias began a long struggle with how to respond. In Blood Brothers, he blends his riveting life story with historical research to reveal a little-known side of the Arab-Israeli conflict, touching on questions such as: -What behind-the-scenes politics touched off the turmoil in the Middle East? -What does Bible prophecy really have to say? -Can bitter enemies ever be reconciled? Now updated with commentary on the current state of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, as well as a new foreword by Lynne Hybels and Gabe Lyons, this book offers hope and insight that can help each of us learn to live at peace in a world of tension and terror.’

Double Minds is a suspense book in the Christian genre and so far, it’s holding my attention, even though I’ve repeatedly been interrupted while reading it and even loaned it to my mom at one point while I was reading books for book tours. Yes, I do read suspense from time to time. The two genres I don’t read much of are Science Fiction and Fantasy. I can’t seem to keep up with the characters in most of these books since they often deal with aliens or fantastical creatures with strange names and histories.

Little Miss and I are reading These Golden Years, book eight of the Little House on the Prairie series by Laura Ingalls Wilder at night. During the day we are reading Toliver’s Secret for social studies/English.

What I’m (We’re) Listening To

I was forced to buy a new phone since I share my Apple account with my son and he fills my phone with photos and memes. My phone had very little memory and was also starting to wig out when I wanted to make calls. My old phone became a “game phone” for Little Miss so now she can play her games on it and I can have my phone for things like listening to podcasts. I don’t listen to podcasts often, but I hope to more now. 

My husband listens to a lot of podcasts. A blogging friend and I were talking about her love for all things dark and mysterious (but not too gory) and I told her my husband likes a lot of podcasts that deal with murder mysteries or darkish things. I snagged a list for her and thought I’d share it here as well. His podcast list of mystery type podcasts: 

Death of A Starlet

The Burned Photo

Love Is A Crime

The Plot Thickens

Murder in Hollywoodland

The Black Dahlia Serial Killers

Murder Book by Michael Connelly 

You Must Remember This 

Roanoke Falls

As for me, my podcasts are much less exciting or suspenseful. My list is much different than my husband’s, though he listens to a couple of the same ones I do, including Unashamed with Phil and Jase Robertson. My other podcasts include The Andrew Klavan Show (only when I can handle political things and lately I haven’t watched, read, or listened to politics because my nerves are shot), Living on the Edge with Chip Ingram, Story Chats with InspyRomance, The Basically Bookish Podcast, The Matthew West Podcast, Novel Marketing Podcast, Marriage Today, Elevation Church, and Laugh More with the Skit Guys. 

What podcasts do you listen to? Let me know in the comments.

In addition to podcasts, I’ve also been listening to a new-to-be band called We The Kingdom.

What We’ve Been Watching

Last night I forced my son to watch Armageddon with me, not because I liked it, but because I hated it and I wanted him to hate it too. We had a blast making fun of it for about an hour but just couldn’t stomach it anymore after that. My son made some hilarious jokes during it but mainly was baffled by how some of the things that blew up did blow up. If you don’t know the movie, it is directed by Michael Bey. If you don’t know Michael Bey, he makes films where there are constant explosions and special effects. So many explosions, in fact, that, as my son said, they can’t afford writers for the movies he directs so the movies have no plot.

When my husband came home from a work assignment, we watched a couple of Lovejoy episodes, one of them a mystery that took place in Prague.

The show follows Lovejoy, an antique dealer who has a penchant for getting in trouble, his sidekicks Eric and Tinker, and Lady Felsham who is married but with whom he has sexual tension with for much of the series.

We just started series four so I’ll be anxious to see how that friendship goes or if they simply write her off like so many British shows do.

The Boy and I also watched several episodes of the 11th Doctor of Doctor Who over the last couple of weeks. Watching Matt Smith as The Doctor reminded me of the days when Doctor Who was good. Sadly, they made the show a feminist soap box when they made The Doctor a woman because we all know a woman can’t be a lead in a show without being a preachy woman who has a cause to fight against, especialy in science fiction or fantasy. God forbid she just be allowed to fight aliens, or have space adventures. No, she has to preach for women’s rights or make a statement against racism. In my humble opinion, the lastest series of Doctor Who is the worst I have ever seen and I have been watching it since the 80s. It’s also extremely sexist to me to make a female Doctor a champion of women’s rights instead of just a fun, interesting character. If how the female Doctor was written doesn’t show that the male writers of shows like Doctor Who aren’t sexist, then I don’t know what is. They couldn’t simply let her have fun — she had to be working to fight a cause and preach to viewers too. Gah. Drives me nuts.

So you can remember the “good ole’ days” of Doctor Who (of the modern era anyhow) here is a clip of Matt Smith as the Eleventh Doctor.

And here is when my two favorite Doctor incarnations met in the 50th anniversary special.

Please ignore Clara in this clip. This is about the time I was waiting for her to die.

And here is the Doctor I grew up on.

What’s Been Occurring

I took the youngest to a science camp this week, getting up at what felt like the crack of dawn since it was so foggy outside and for the entire 35-minute drive there.

With the fog . . . When the fog lifted about an hour later . . .

She learned about building and how animals in the wild build homes to protect themselves. While she was learning, I wandered and took some photos of the changing leaves, but not a ton since our leaves never did turn pretty colors but instead turned mainly brown, died, and fell off around us. There were a few pretty oak leaves around us there so I took photos of them.

After the event, Little Miss surprised me by asking me to go home with a friend. She rarely does that since she’s a Mama’s Girl and likes to stay home with me. She spent the afternoon with them and we picked her up later in the evening. Her dad picked her up and when she came up to me she ran up, threw her arms around me, and declared she thought I had abandoned her because I hadn’t shown up at the exact time she thought I would. Apparently, she missed me after all.

It was very weird driving home without her. Weird and a little bit lonely. This is the road I used to travel every day for six years when I went to high school 20-minutes away from where I lived:

This doesn’t really show how windy and twisty it is but every day, for a good 90 minutes after I got to the school, I was car sick after the bus ride. You would think after that many years my body would have gotten used to it, but it never did. I still get sick on this stretch sometimes, or at least am left feeling dizzy.

I did not pass this property evey day on my way to school, but I have passed it hundreds of times over the years and always love the view. These gorgeous wildflowers were along the road as I drove home all alone from the science class.

We have one more of these science classes in a couple of weeks and then we won’t have any more homeschool-related outings for much of the winter, since we are not part of any local co-ops. There isn’t a local co-op, other than one where we used to live, about 45 minutes away.

So that is my week in review.

How about all of you? Let me know what you are reading, listening to, watching, and have been doing in the comments, and if you want to join in some week, feel free to right-click on the graphic below and join in.

Sunny (The Weather Girls Book One). Book Review with Celebrate Lit

About the Book

Book: The Weather Girls: Sunny

Author: Jennifer Lynn Cary

Genre: Christian Historical Romance

Release date: September 6, 2021

She got stood up on Valentine’s Day…

…Then she lost her job

Could the legend of the cardinal change her luck?

With a disposition as bright as her name, Sunny shakes it off the worst day of her life and makes a new start. She’s got the brains that it takes, but she’s more than a little scared. It’s not just her reputation on the line.

Would this cockeyed adventure be the thing her siblings need too?

Pat only wants peace in the family and never dreamed doing a favor for his sister could drop him into so much hot water. Torn between what he’s always wanted and what is staring him in the face, someone is bound to get hurt.

Odds are it will be him.

But then, only the cardinal knows for sure.

Return to 1970 Indiana with Sunny, the first book in The Weather Girls series—get into the miniskirts, bell-bottoms, and Christian family values.

You’ll love Sunny for the music, the fashions, and the hilarious antics, because who can resist a romantic trip down memory lane?

Click here to get your copy!My Review

If you are looking for a light read with minimal conflict, then Sunny (The Weather Girls Book One) is the book for you. The story takes place in 1970 with Sunny Day as the main character. Yes, that’s right, her name is Sunny Day, much to her embarrassment. Her sisters are named Stormy and Windy Day and when Sunny ends up starting a new endeavor it isn’t long before she has help from family and a new handsome friend, Pat Whitcomb, of the very well-known Whitcomb family. 

I fell in love with the characters, which were well developed, and felt like people I might know myself. Sunny and her sisters supported each other through each trial, showing a close-knit family, but not one without flaws and heartache. There isn’t a large focus on the heartache, though, making this book mostly light-hearted and touching. Humor and romance are sprinkled throughout. I’m a sucker for a book with a meddling grandmother and this one definitely has one and Gramma is one of the brightest spots of the book, besides Sunny herself.

The only aspect of the book which left me a little confused was that there was very little to no mention of a relationship with Jesus throughout the book until it was thrust upon the reader suddenly and in a somewhat awkward way with what I felt was an abrupt “salvation scene.” I don’t disagree with the scene’s content in any way, I just felt it could be written in a little bit more of an organic way. I do not, however, feel that this took away from the book overall and I am looking forward to snatching up a copy of the next book, Stormy, which focuses on the story of Sunny’s sister and is already available on Amazon and in Kindle Unlimited (at the time this review was written anyhow). 

I was given a complimentary copy of this book to review in exchange for an honest review. I give it a 4 out of 5.

About the Author

Jennifer Lynn Cary likes to say you can take the girl out of Indiana, but you can’t take the Hoosier out of the girl. Now transplanted to the Arizona desert, this direct descendant of Davy Crockett and her husband of forty years enjoy time with family where she shares tales of her small town heritage and family legacies with their grandchildren. She is the author of The Crockett Chronicles series and The Relentless series as well as the stand-alone novella Tales of the Hob Nob Annex Café and her recent split-time novel The Traveling Prayer Shawl.

More from Jennifer Lynn

I was born in the 50’s, grew up in the 60’s and 70’s, and married in 1980. I relate to K.T. Oslin’s song “80’s Ladies” a little too well.

Though we moved from Kokomo, Indiana in 1972, it always will be my hometown.

A few years ago my sister headed up a plan to have an annual Cousin’s Reunion in Kokomo. Two cousins came from Ohio and my sister and I came from the west to converge on our family who still call Kokomo home. Each trip back reminded me of how much I loved growing up there.

One day Bobby Hebb’s “Sunny” came on the Oldies station and caught my attention. Then I remembered the songs “Stormy” and “Windy” and wondered what it might be like for girls with that sort of name—especially if their surname was Day. Would their dispositions match their names? Why would their parents give them those names? The questions kept coming and I fell in love with the whole storyline.

The best part was putting the house I grew up in into the book(s). Yep, as you read the story, Hazel Day’s house is set up mostly like the one where I grew up only I added a den and an extra bedroom upstairs.

Ferguson House is based on the Seiberling Mansion—I love that place and tour it every chance I can when I get back to Kokomo. It’s amazing.

I also included favorite landmarks. Scotty’s Drive-In saw a lot of me in my early teen years. Great for grabbing a coke and not that far from either school or home.

The funny thing about memories is that they can blur and morph over time. Thankfully someone from my hometown has put together a Facebook page where I can ask questions and get more than enough answers.

Many locales I remember no longer exist, so writing about them helps them live on.

I hope you will check out Sunny and 1970 Kokomo and come back for the rest of The Weather Girls trilogy.

Abundant blessings!

Blog Stops

Blogging With Carol, October 6

CarpeDiem, October 6

Book Reviews From an Avid Reader, October 7

By the Book, October 8

Truth and Grace Homeschool Academy, October 9

Debbie’s Dusty Deliberations, October 10

The Author Reads, October 10

Texas Book-aholic, October 11

Inklings and notions, October 12

Boondock Ramblings, October 12

Locks, Hooks and Books, October 13

Connie’s History Classroom, October 14

For Him and My Family, October 14

Batya’s Bits, October 15

Happily Managing a Household of Boys, October 16

Ashley’s Clean Book Reviews, October 16

A Modern Day Fairy Tale, October 17

deb’s Book Review, October 18

The Meanderings of a Bookworm, October 18

Vicky Sluiter, October 19

Musings of a Sassy Bookish Mama, October 19

Giveaway

To celebrate her tour, Jennifer is giving away the grand prize package of a $50 Amazon card with signed 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.

https://promosimple.com/ps/11fdc/the-weather-girls-sunny-celebration-tour-giveaway