Lisa R. Howeler's Blog, page 98

Randomly Thinking: I couldn’t be a 911 dispatcher, my tea needs more honey, and tomato soup cake

I don’t know about you but I certainly need some silly or funny this week. It’s been a brutal one for me emotionally. Loss and heartache. It took a lot for me to even push through and post this, but sometimes we just have to push through to survive, right? (I know. I’m such a downer this week!)

Anyhow, regular readers know the drill. These are my random thoughts for the month (or two weeks or whenever I get around to writing them). Read on at your own risk, but don’t worry, I tried to keep it cheerful.




A friend recently decided she wanted to go for training to be a 911-dispatcher. She told me she’s good in emergencies, just cries afterward. I said I used to be calm about emergencies — I covered fires and car accidents during my reporting career, and it didn’t phase me most of the time. Now since seeing my kid in an ambulance and my stay in the hospital I am a basket case. I told her the patients would be trying to comfort me while I cried into the phone.

The people who need help would be like, “It’s okay, lady. It’s just a bullet wound. I’m sure I’ll be fine. You can stop crying now.”

***

When I make tea, I think of that SNL skit with Christopher Walken (back when the show was funny) where he says, “It needs more cowbell.”

 I look into my tea and say, “It needs more honey,” in Walken’s voice.

***

I recently told my son that he has the attention span of a gnat and can’t handle watching anything more than 30 seconds because of all the TikTok-like videos he watches. (He hates TikTok so doesn’t actually watch that.)

He countered by showing me this video about how to make a tomato soup cake and told me he’d watched the entire nine minutes and thirty-five-second clip. I said, “fine, your attention span is longer than a —”

And I was hooked and watched the whole thing too.

Seriously, though, did you know there was such a thing as tomato soup cake? Ew.

***

The other night my dad was looking for a quote from General Jim Mattis.

My mom recited it to him: ‘Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet.’

Then she let him know she had that one written down a couple of places.

I’m sure she didn’t mean it as threatening as it sounded, but it was still pretty funny.

***

Erin from Still Life, With Cracker Crumbs, sent me this hilarious story about a man who rescued a cat out of a tree and went viral, not because of his good deed, but his good looks.

Here is a sample:

https://filterfreeparents.com/man-rescues-cat-from-tree-and-the-pics-go-viral-but-not-because-of-the-cat/

***

Here is a fun photo my husband recently had to take for his job.

Photo credit: Warren Howeler, The Rocket-Courier

9-year old Lillian and her rooster (Ron Weasly), a one-year-old English Gamer Bantam, recently took second place in the youth division at the Pennsylvania Farm Show.

Lillian lives near us and I don’t know why I love this photo so much. I guess because it just represents our area and our love of our farm animals well.

***

Thanks to that nasty virus, peanut butter, onions, and garlic smell and taste like a mix of chemicals and something that died. That means anything that has those ingredients in it tastes and smells the same.

Last weekend, though, a former classmate made a peanut butter cake for a memorial service I attended and the peanut butter frosting actually tasted normal, but that could be because it was mixed with a ton of sugar and milk.

Hopefully, that is a symptom that will gradually get better.

***

My brother suggested this guitar player named Luca Stricagnoli  and now I can’t stop watching him

***

I’ve also been watching The Dead South cover The Doors. For those who didn’t like their rendition of You Are My Sunshine, you probably won’t like this one either.

***

So there are a few random thoughts for this week. How about you? Has anything weird, unusual, or fun happened to you recently? Share in the comments and if it is okay, I’d like to share it in a future Randomly Thinking to cheer us all up.

Faithfully Thinking: God is our shelter

It’s been one of those weeks, or I guess two weeks.

One day a couple of weeks ago I learned that a former classmate of mine had passed away.

A few weeks before that, a good family friend passed away and last Saturday we attended a memorial service for her.

While working on edits for my recent book, my husband called to tell me a friend of ours, who we hadn’t seen in years for various reasons, had passed away in a house fire. A half an hour later a fellow writer learned that a child in her Sunday School class had been removed from their home because they were being abused.

When bad things happen, I want to pull a bubble or shelter up around me and hide inside that shelter so nothing else bad can reach me. Sadly, that’s not possible. The bad news will still get through and defile that clean, stress-free space I tried to create.

What is possible and real is that God can climb inside that shelter with me and while he may not take the bad news away, he can hold me and walk through the grief, heartache, or fear that stems from the bad news. God never promised us a life free of sorrow or trials, but he did promise that he would be there with us to shelter us in his comforting arms.

Psalm 27:5 For in the day of trouble He will conceal me in His tabernacle; In the secret place of His tent He will hide me; He will lift me up on a rock.

Psalm 18:2 The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, My God, my rock, in whom I take refuge; My shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

Sunday Bookends: I finished another book (it’s a miracle), cabin fever, rough draft finished

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

What I/we’ve been Reading

I finished another book last week. It’s a miracle. I know.

It was The Cat Who Saw Stars and it was not one of Braun’s best at all.

I was very disappointed with the book because it meandered around, which she always does, but this book never got to the point of Qwill actually investigating anything. It was merely him visiting other people and judging contests and having odd things happen to him. The end of the book was one of the worst endings I have seen in a book as well. I’m guess this was one of her later books. She wrote 29, I believe, before she passed away and she must have been running out of ideas.

To cleanse my pallet this week, I am reading a Love Inspired romance by new-to-me author Lisa Jordan called The Road to Redemption. Love Inspired books are part of Harlequin’s inspirational romance line.

I also started a book by Sara Davison called Every Star in the Sky. It is a Christian Fiction book that deals with the topic of sex trafficking so I have a feeling I will need to take a break from this one a few times. I’m on the fifth chapter and it is very well written, but also a tough read. It is for a book tour so I have a deadline, but luckily it is a fairly long one.

After these two, there are a few books I hope to get to in March and April (but I’ll probably read only one because you know how slow I read), including:

Miss Julia Renews Her Vows by Ann B. Ross

The Reckoning Trees (which I have started) by Alicia Gilliam

Relative Silence by Carrie Stuart Parks

Until I Met You by Tari Farris

Cape Refuge by Terri Blackstock

But I also have books I am reading for book tours and author friends.

I will have to take some breaks from

What’s Been Occurring

This week the temperatures were terribly cold again in the beginning of the week, while we tried to chip our way out of the ice that fell the week before. Our driveway was a mess and I wasn’t able to go anywhere the whole week.

By the end of the week, the weather warmed up and things finally began to defrost some, clearing the driveway at least, but today the temps have dropped again, and we are once again in subzero temperatures. We are supposed to have a couple more days of this and then a slow warm up. My sinuses are just going to love the up and down temps. Ha. Ha.

This is what happens when your children have cabin fever. They stand in window frames and look like a scene from a horror movie.

My children are definitely having some cabin fever and sadly the only time they got out this week was to a memorial service for a good friend of our family’s. Ginger was 89 and quite a character. She and her husband Ernie were pianists who played beautiful music together. Ernie passed away in 2020 and she passed in January. She was originally from New York City and told some of the funniest stories. She was also very blunt, which created some hilarious situations. Honestly, she warrants an entire blog post so I should probably consider doing that for this week.

This week they will have another “exciting” outing when I have to drive 45 minutes north to take our dog to the vet for her annual vaccines. It will be in the town where we used to live, so my son will be excited to visit his old stomping grounds.

What We watched/are Watching

We started watching a new British comedy (new to us) called Ghosts and are hooked.  It is about a group of ghosts stuck in an old house who can’t leave, which is a real problem for the new owner, who inherited the house from a step-great-aunt.

It’s the main thing we’ve been watching, and I can’t actually think of anything else I watched this week because I was working so much on finishing my next book. Which brings me to . . .

What I’m Writing

I’ve been working all week on A New Chapter, which I have renamed Beauty From Ashes.

I’ve been writing for 2-3 hours a day during the week as part of writing sprints with the Novel Academy ladies, but, of course, with two children and a dog, I’m not able to actually write the full time. I’m usually interrupted every ten minutes or so to let a dog outside or feed a child. Why do children think they have to eat every day? Sheesh. It does get tiresome after a bit. Anyhoo  . . . despite all the interruptions, I was able to finish the rough draft and will start editing and fleshing out this week.

I also shared posts on the blog last week, including:

The many adventures we do and do not have in very cold weather.

You Are My Sunshine is not necessarily a ‘happy song’

Fiction Thursday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 1

Fiction Friday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 2

How to improve dialogue and capture your readers’ attention

Book Review: Freedom Crossing

What I’m Listening To

This week I listened to Matthew West, Johnny Cash, and a bit of Jack White to get through the week.

Now it’s your turn

So that is my week in review. How about you? What have you been reading, watching, listening to or doing? Let me know in the comments.

How to improve dialogue and capture your readers’ attention

This appeared first on the Hope, Hearts, and Heroes blog.



For some writers, dialogue is their biggest challenge, not necessarily because they don’t know what they want their characters to say, but because they don’t know how to present that dialogue well.

Today I thought I’d jump off a topic our own Kelly Barr touched on a couple of weeks ago on the blog when she wrote about the difference between action beats and dialogue tags.

As a new fiction writer, I am among those writers who sometimes don’t do the best job of presenting dialogue in my stories.

One of the traps that we new writers fall into is adding descriptive words to replace “said” after every part of dialogue. Instead of simply writing “said”, writers often try to break up that monotony by replacing “said” with terms like “exclaimed,” “declared” or “shouted.” Sometimes these replacements work, but sometimes, if read in successive dialogue exchanges, these descriptive words can be completely awkward.

Here is an example:

“Jenny, are you going with me to the dance?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know! Stop asking me!” Jenny exclaimed.

“Gosh, sorry,” Jack extolled. “I didn’t realize wanting to take my girlfriend to a dance would be so upsetting.”

“I’m sorry,” Jenny sighed. “It’s just — I’m tired and things haven’t been great at home. My parents are fighting again.”

Instead of writing words like asked, exclaimed, or extolled, we could instead add what are called “action beats.” Action beats are when the writer has the character who is speaking doing something before they speak, to show the reader who it is that is speaking.

So, let’s try the above example again, by using action beats. We’re also going to take out the word “asked” because I once heard author Jerry B. Jenkins say he felt the word was unnecessary if there was a question mark already at the end of the sentence. It’s clear a question is being asked. There’s no need to reiterate that the person asked a question by writing “he/she asked.”

Updated example:

Jack leaned back against the row of lockers next to Jenny’s. He turned his head to look at her. “Are you going with me to the dance?” (We don’t have to add Jenny’s name since we already said he was standing next to Jenny’s locker.)

Jenny tipped her head back and groaned, slamming her locker door closed. “I don’t know! Stop asking me!”

“Gosh, sorry.” Jack held his hands, palms out, in front of him. “I didn’t realize wanting to take my girlfriend to a dance would be so upsetting.”

Jenny signed, hugging her books to her chest. “Sorry. It’s just —” She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again. “ I’m tired and things haven’t been great at home. My parents are fighting again.”

Sometimes we writers even write “said” way too often. There is no need to write “she said,” or “he said” after every word our character speaks.

So that it doesn’t sound as if I am slamming other new writers, I thought I’d pull some examples from my first attempts at writing fiction to show how distracting it is to write “said” after every part of dialogue and how equally distracting it is to try to come up with new superlatives to attribute a quote to a particular character.

The following excerpt is from my first book, A Story To Tell. It’s since been revamped and re-edited, but this is how it was written before I knew more about how to write dialogue.

“She’s too young for dances,” Daddy said, sitting in his chair, reading the local newspaper, not even looking up.

“Well, Edith is going to be there,” Mama offered, mentioning my older sister.

“Is this meant to comfort me?” Daddy asked.

 Edith walked into the living room in a flared blue skirt and a white blouse with the top two buttons unbuttoned. “Oh, good grief,” she said. “She’s 17, Daddy. She’s old enough for dances.”

Daddy looked at Edith disapprovingly.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” he asked sharply.

“What’s wrong with it?” Edith looked down at her skirt and smoothed it with her hands.

“It’s fine if you want to wait on a corner in the city,” Daddy mumbled under his breath.

I knew Edith didn’t hear him, but I did.

“It looks lovely,” Mama said quickly. “At least it’s longer than the last skirt you wore. Are you going to wear your pearls with it?”

“Pearls aren’t in fashion right now, Mama,” Edith said.

Later I rewrote this part and tightened up the dialogue a bit more, taking out some of the “saids” and “askeds”.

 “She’s too young for dances.”

Daddy was sitting in his chair, his eyes focused on the paper.

“Well, Edith is going to be there,” Mama offered.

Daddy peered over the paper, one eyebrow crocked. “Is this meant to comfort me?”

Edith flounced into the living room wearing a flared blue skirt and a white blouse with the top two buttons unbuttoned. “Oh, good grief. She’s 17, Daddy. She’s old enough for dances.”

Daddy glanced at Edith disapprovingly.

“Is that what you’re wearing?” His voice was sharp.

“What’s wrong with it?” Edith looked down at her skirt, smoothed it with her hands.

“It would be fine if you were standing on a corner in some city,” Daddy mumbled.

I knew Edith didn’t hear him, but I did.

“It looks lovely,” Mama said hastily. “At least it’s longer than the last skirt you wore. Are you going to wear your pearls with it?”

“Pearls aren’t in fashion right now, Mama.” Edith waved her hand dismissively, shifting her attention to me. “Come on, Blanche, let’s find you a dress and see what we can do with your hair.”

In addition to not adding too many adjectives to your dialogue tags, another way to avoid stilted dialogue is to simply take out the dialogue tags altogether. This is easy to do if you only have two people in a scene, as long as you only do it for a short exchange.

If you have two people talking back and forth about a subject, it isn’t really necessary to keep saying “he said,” and then “she said.”

We get it. The two people are talking to each other, so for a selection of lines, you could simply share what they are saying to each other.

I’ll show this, using an example from my third book, The Farmer’s Daughter. First, the way I wouldn’t do it now that I know more about dialogue:


“You have a degree in computer programing, Alex,” his dad had said over the phone in his familiar depreciating tone. “We could use you here in the IT department. And from there, maybe we can move you up into — ”

“Thanks, Dad,” Alex said. “I’m good here.”

“Farming?” his dad asked. “Really? This isn’t what I had in mind for you when—”

“When you what?” Alex asked. “Abandoned Tyler and I all those years ago?”

“That’s not what happened, Alex,” his dad said. “When you get older, you’ll understand that life isn’t always easy.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alex said. “Listen, Dad, I have to go. Mr. Tanner needs me to clean some cow poop out of the stalls, and I’d rather do that than talk to you.”

Now, the cleaned-up version from the book:

“You have a degree in computer programing, Alex,” his dad had said over the phone in his familiar depreciating tone. “We could use you here in the IT department. And from there, maybe we can move you up into — ”

“Thanks, Dad. I’m good here.”

“Farming? Really? This isn’t what I had in mind for you when—”

“When you what? Abandoned Tyler and I all those years ago?”

“That’s not what happened, Alex. When you get older, you’ll understand that life isn’t always easy.”

“Yeah, okay. Listen, Dad, I have to go. Mr. Tanner needs me to clean some cow poop out of the stalls, and I’d rather do that than talk to you.”

Looking at this now, I’d love to clean it up even further, by changing the first sentence to: “You have a degree in computer programming, Alex.” His dad’s tone on the other end of the phone was depreciating. As usual.

None of what I am suggesting here means I am some expert at writing dialogue or haven’t made some insanely silly blunders in my dialogue. I’m nowhere near an expert and looking back over my last two books, I can see some major errors, including how I over-explain in between dialogue and offer too many action beats.

There is always room for improvement, no matter where you are in your writing journey so if you are doing some of what I’ve mentioned above — making what some call “writing mistakes” — it’s not the end of the world. Writing is a journey, and you can always improve whether in your next novel, novella, or short story or by editing the story you’ve already written.

Not only can, and will you improve, but some readers aren’t as bothered by these so-called mistakes as fellow writers are. Do your best to tighten your writing, but don’t let what you think you are doing wrong, stop you from continuing to write.

Learn more about the best way to use dialogue in the following articles:

Five Tips for Using Dialogue TagsHow To Write Dialogue: Formatting, Examples, and TipsHow To Write Dialogue That Captivates Your Readers

Fiction Friday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 2

readers know that the book will not be called A New Chapter when I am done with it and publish it in book form. Last week it struck me that I already have A New Beginning and now I was going to call this book A New Chapter. It seemed a bit lazy on the naming side so I have changed A New Chapter to Beauty For Ashes and at this point it is scheduled to be released in full on April 26. I haven’t decided if I will keep the book in Kindle Unlimited or not yet.

For those who are new here, I share a chapter of a novel in progress on Fridays for Fiction Friday but sometimes I also share a part on a Thursday or Saturday. The version I share here often changes before I push publish on the final book down the line.

If you want to read the other chapters click HERE and if you want to read the other books click HERE.

Chapter 21 Part 2

“Ooh, boy, Bella. That’s a stinky one.”

Liz sat back on her feet and made a face. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

She reached for the wipes and the new diaper while Bella kicked her feet on the blanket she was lying on on the floor.

She should call Matt after she was done. It had been a week since she’d witnessed him arrest Gabe and she hadn’t heard a word from him. She’d been wondering why she hadn’t been hearing his voice on the scanner at night and should have asked, but then she’d have to admit she listened to hear his voice on the scanner.

Awkward.

Instead of calling Matt last night, like she’d considered doing, she’d tried to call Ginny and make sure she wasn’t somewhere alone with Keith. Molly’s suggestion that hanging out with Keith could be a temptation for her had alarmed her. Ginny hadn’t picked up the phone, though, and she’d been about to drive to her house when Molly had walked in after milking at the barn.

Calling Matt would have been awkward though What was she going to say? “Hey, how’s it going since you kicked the crud out of my ex in front of half the town the other day?”

Molly took her coat off and hung it on the hanger next to the door. “Have you talked to Matt recently?”

Liz hooked Bella’s diaper and looked up. “No, I haven’t tried him yet. Why?”

Molly slid her shoes off, sniffed them and then placed them outside the door. “He might need a friend right now.”

“Yeah, why? And thanks for putting the shoes out there this time. This apartment stinks enough with all the diapers. We don’t need to smell like manure too.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “Why? Why would he need a friend? You were there, you saw why he would need a friend. Did that really look like normal Matt McGee behavior to you?” She turned and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge. “Not only that, but Alex just told me he got suspended from the police force.”

Liz straightened and sat back on her heels. “Are you kidding me? Reggie suspended him?”

“He had no choice. The council made him because of the charges Gabe filed against him and the threat of a lawsuit.”

Liz’s chest tightened and her throat thickened with emotion. This wasn’t fair. Matt was a good cop. What was this going to do for his acceptance to the academy?

“You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I will be.”

“It’s not your fault, Liz. Matt made his own choice. It’s exactly what he told Alex.”

The old familiar tingling spread from Liz’s hands up her arms as she stood and sat on the couch. Yes, Matt had made a choice, but it was her choices that had landed him in the position to make that choice.

Molly sat next to her and slid an arm around her. “It’s all going to work out, okay? Listen, I wasn’t really supposed to say anything to you. Matt didn’t want you to know, but since I already knew you were there, I just figured you would want to know what happened.”

Liz leaned against her friend. “I did want to know. I just wish I didn’t know. You know?”

The woman laughed and Molly leaned back to look at Liz. “Yeah. I know.”

They laughed again and then Liz leaned out of the embrace. “Don’t you need to get ready for your sleepover?”

Molly and her grandmother had a sleepover once a month and usually Liz was invited, but this month she’d opted to stay home and let the ladies have some together time without their third wheel.

Molly sighed. “I do, but I hate to leave you alone after I just dropped that on you.”

Liz shrugged a shoulder. “The only thing you could do is stop me from eating the entire pint of chocolate Haagendas in the freezer.” She winked. “But really, you couldn’t even do that, so go on. Have fun at Grandma Fran’s and tell her I’ll be back next month.”

Molly stood and stretched. “She’ll be happy about that. She says you make better hot chocolate than me. Plus she wants to see Bella again. You’ll have to bring her by before then.”

Liz folded one of Bella’s blankets and laid it on the back of the couch. “I will. What’s on the agenda tonight?”

Molly wiggled her body in a type of dance. “Spa night. Facial masks, manicures, pedicures, and I’m giving her a massage.”

Liz laughed at the picture of 76-year old Frannie wearing a facemask.

Molly left after a shower and change and Liz headed for the freezer, her phone in her hand. She would call Matt and check on him, but first — ice cream.

She was swallowing the first bite when her phone buzzed.

Matt: Hey, you home?

Good grief. It was like he could read her mind.

Liz: Where else would I be? I don’t have a life you know. *wink emoji*

Matt: Be over in ten?

Huh. Not even a joke back. This couldn’t be good.

Liz: Sure. I’ll be here.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window on her way to the couch and winced. She should at least comb her hair, or put it in a bun, or something. She looked down at the baggy sweatpants she’d stolen from Molly and the stained Needtobreathe T-shirt. And change her clothes. Yeah. She should change her clothes. Sure, Matt was a friend, but she could at least look half way decent for him.

How should one dress when their friend was about to tell them they’d slammed their ex-boyfriend’s head off some concrete? She decided on casual, but not too casual, slipping on a white tank top, covered with a beige sweater and a pair of blue yoga pants. She was yanking a brush through her hair when the knock on the door came. Apparently her ten minutes was much different than his ten minutes because for her it had only been about six.

She’d needed that extra four to finish brushing.

She pushed her fingers through her hair instead and attempted to fluff it, as much as straight hair would fluff. Since it was shorter now, it didn’t look as crazy with just a quick brush as it had when it fell down her back, but still.

That whole saying about absence making the heart grow founder seemed to hold water when she opened the door and saw him standing on the landing, hands deep in his front pockets, looking out over the town. A cold breeze ruffled his hair and his normally smooth jawline was speckled with a few days growth, which gave him an entirely more rugged look. That rugged look sent her heart thudding fast against her ribcage and her bottom lip between her teeth as she took in the rest of him — his dark blue jeans, tan cardigan hugging his newly fit torso.

He turned his head toward her, and she ceased her pursual, hoping red wasn’t spreading across her skin as fast as the warm flush of appreciation was spreading under it.

“Hey.”

The husky tone of his voice tipped her stomach upside down.

Just friends, Liz. You two are just friends. That is all. Stop staring at your gorgeous friend and let him in your apartment.

“Hey. You want to get out of the cold?”

Of course, he wants to get out of the cold, idiot. Just step out of the way and let him in.

She stepped back and opened the door fully. “Come in.”

He stepped past her, and she drew in a sharp breath. Wow. He smelled amazing. She needed to focus. He wasn’t here for a pleasure call.

He stepped into the kitchen area and turned to face her, hands still in his pockets, cheekbones flushed soft pink from the cold. “Sorry I haven’t called. You been okay?”

He was apologizing? She hadn’t spoke to him barely at all since the day in the parking lot at the art class and he was apologizing.

He really was something else and that something else was wonderful.

“Yeah, I’ve been good.”

“Bella?”

“She’s great. Just taking a nap on the blanket right now.”

“Good. Good.”

He nodded as he spoke, then looked at the tip of his boot.

She knew she should put him out of his misery but wasn’t sure how. Should she tell him she knew about what happened with Gabe? Should she admit she’d been upset because she found out he’d been in her apartment the night of her overdose? Debating it in her head wasn’t going to help move either of them forward in their lives so she’d better pull one trigger or the other.

“Listen —”

They spoke at the same time, then laughed together.

“Sorry.”

In unison again. Really? Liz laughed softly, tugging gently on her earlobe. This was getting weird.

“Listen.” He spoke first this time. “I’m sure you’ve heard by now what happened the other night at Mooney’s.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck then held it there, pulling down. “I just wanted to apologize for my behavior and if I made anything worse for you. I should have controlled my anger. I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

He peered at her with what she could only describe as puppy dog eyes. His sincere contrition made her want to slide her arms around his neck and comfort him, tell him she wasn’t mad, not in the least, but there was still a part of her that was upset at him for this and for not telling her he was at her apartment that night

She bit her lower lip for a few seconds before speaking. “I know. I was there that day.” Matt winced and looked back down toward the floor as she continued. “I’m guessing that hadn’t gotten around yet.”

He shook his head. “No. Not yet. And if Alex knew he didn’t tell me.”

“Yeah. He knew. He was sworn to secrecy until I could figure out how to tell you.”

Matt looked back up at her again and his green eyes locked on hers. “I guess we both had secrets we didn’t want to talk about.”

A chill shivered through her and not just from the cold blast that had come in when he’d stepped inside. That statement held a meaning beyond what had happened at Mooney’s. She knew it, but did he?

“I wasn’t honest with you about the night you overdosed, Liz.”

Her breath caught. She hadn’t expected a confession, yet she should have. It was Matt she was talking to. Of course, he was going to be open with her. Time for her to be honest too.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Ginny accidentally told me.”

“How did Ginny — Oh right. Stan. I asked the guys at church for prayer for you. He didn’t know the full story, but I’m guessing he put two and two together.”

A faint smile pulled at Liz’s mouth. “Yeah, he’s a horrible husband but he’s still got some brains left up there.” She played with the necklace around her neck. “I lied to you too. More than once, which, of course, you know.” The sting of the tears surprised her, and she swallowed to try to keep them at bay. “I’m sorry, Matt. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.” She looked toward the living room, struggling to make eye contact. “You’ve been a good friend and I haven’t.”

He leaned back against the kitchen counter, bending his hands over the edges. “We both screwed up by not being open with each other.” He pushed himself off, stepped toward her. “I don’t want to do that anymore. Be dishonest with you.”

Her breath quickened at the heat coming off him. He needed to step back. She was having trouble thinking clearly and this time she knew it wasn’t alcohol causing issues.

“I don’t want to keep holding my feelings back or keep them hidden.” He took another step and now he was definitely too close. She started to step back but he placed a hand at the small of her back, stopping her and pulling her gently toward him. He slid the other hand on the back of her neck, leaning his head close to hers.

“And I don’t want to be just friends anymore.”

The words sent her heart slamming inside her ribcage, forcing her to take a deep breath and hold it for a few seconds. She glanced at his mouth, then moved her gaze back to his eyes. She’d imagined him kissing her a few hundred times over the last few years, but now that he was this close, she was suddenly terrified. What if changed their friendship and not for the better?

 “You know, seeing you do that to Gabe? It showed a whole different side to you.” She was stalling, she knew it.

He laughed softly, his breath tickling her cheek. “Yeah. Not a good one.”

“It showed me you’re not as perfect as everyone — as I — thought you were. It showed me you have a lot more passion in you than you let on.”

He moved his hand from the back of her neck to the back of her head, sinking his fingers into her hair. “Liz, you and are a lot similar than you think. You’re not who people think you are, and neither am I.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she smiled. “Is this confession time? Are you going to tell me you’re actually a bad guy, secretly running an underground drug ring?”

Matt laughed softly. “Yeah. Right. That’s me. A secret drug lord.” He grinned. “No. What I mean is, I’m not perfect.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“What do you do that makes you not perfect, McGee?”

A playful grin turned his mouth upward. “I rip those tags off pillows that say ‘do not remove’. One time I left my cart in the middle of the parking lot. I actually like pineapple on pizza.”

He pressed his hand more firmly against the small of her back and pulled her against him. “And I think about kissing you way more than I should.”

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, her voice fading to a whisper as she pressed her hands against his chest. “You can’t think of kissing me.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re just friends. Remember?”

“Then let me give you a friendly kiss.”

She closed her eyes as his lips brushed against her forehead, her cheek, and then found her mouth, capturing her upper lip.

Heat shot through her as he slipped his mouth to her lower lip next. She moved her hands to his face and leaned into the kiss as he found her whole mouth, savoring the feel of him.

If this was what it felt like to kiss a friend, then she wanted him to be her friend for the rest of her life.

He smiled as he pulled his mouth away several seconds later. “That went better than I thought it was going to.”

“Kissing me?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “That and talking to you about all the things I should have talked to you about already.”

“Did you plan to kiss me?”

“Not necessarily, but I thought it would be nice if it finally happened since I’ve been thinking about it so long. I needed to take the chance and let the chips fall where they may.”

She smiled and slid her arms behind his neck as his arms slid behind her back.

Her hand moved automatically to the back of his head, up into his hair, like she’d imagined doing many times before. She finally felt comfortable enough to mess up that perfect Officer McGee hair. She smirked. “Does this mean we’re more than friends now?”

The huskiness of his tone slid over her senses like a warm blanket on a cold winter night, transforming her smirk into a smile. “I certainly hope so.”

He kissed her again, as soft and sweet as before, no urgency, just a  comforting sense of leisure. She slid her hands down the back of his head, resting them on the back of his neck to hold him close, almost afraid he’d pull away and disappear and this would all be a dream.

A few minutes later, a small cry from the living room interrupted them and Liz pulled her mouth from his, her eyes on the living room. She slipped from his arms, and he followed her as she walked toward the blanket in the center of the floor. They found Bella looking up at them with a firm pout in place and fresh tears on her cheeks.

He stooped down before she could and lifted Bella into his arms. “Hey, little girl, jealous of all the attention your mom is getting tonight?” He winked at Liz. “Can’t be helped.”

He sat on the couch with the baby cradled in his arms, her small form practically dwarfed against his much larger arms.

Liz couldn’t believe how natural it all seemed, him with a baby, relaxed, smiling. It stopped her in her tracks, left her holding her breath without even realizing it.

She finally let herself breathe again and walked to the kitchen, lifting a bag of breast milk from the freezer and setting it to warm in a bowl of warm water. “Maybe I shouldn’t ask this,” she said as she returned a few minutes later with a bottle. She braced herself mentally, sitting next to him and handing him the bottle. “What happened with the academy?”

He took the bottle and kept his eyes on Bella. “They rescinded my application because of the charges filed against me.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Guess God has different plans for me.”

Liz’s chest felt tight, and she rubbed the top of it under her throat. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

He looked up at her. “It will work out. No big deal.”

“It is a big deal. This was your dream and it’s my fault you’re not going to be able to realize it.”

Matt kept his eyes on hers. “Not everything is your fault Liz, and this definitely isn’t. I made the choice to react the way I did to Gabe. It was my decision to slam him against my patrol car, not yours. Actions have consequences and losing that spot at the academy was mine.”

Liz dropped her gaze, watching Bella drink from the bottle. “Liz, I want you to listen to me.” She nodded but kept her eyes on Bella. “Look at me.” She lifted her eyes and once again, the green of his eyes startled her, pulled her in. “This is not your fault. I’m serious. We all make poor decisions at some point in our lives. What happened with Gabe? It was a poor decision. That’s all. That night in your apartment? The same thing. Those mistakes do not define you, though. You get that right? You are what God says you are, and He says you are his child, mistakes and all.”

It was a message Liz had resisted over and over. That God loved her, no matter her poor choices and that she could learn from those poor choices and make better ones in the future. She’d usually roll her eyes and move away or make a joke or change the subject, but something about the way Matt said it, the way she could tell he meant it, truly believed it, and wanted to her to believe it too, broke her.

She didn’t stop the tears this time, didn’t look away from him when they came. She nodded as they flowed, trying her best not to ugly cry as she let the words sink in.

“Thank you.” She finally managed the words, leaning forward and brushing her lips against his cheek. “You know it too, right?”

He looked at her with a questioning rise in his eyebrows.

“That your bad decision to react the way you did to Gabe does not define you.”

He smiled sheepishly, tilted his face down toward Bella again. “Touché, Miss Cranmer. Touché.”

She slid next to him, her feet under her, one arm across the back of the couch, watching him feed Bella, and wishing she’d let her walls down before, let herself believe she could be happy and that she deserved it. Like him holding Bella, this — her leaning into him — felt natural and right, like how her life should be and hopefully would be in the future.

Fiction Thursday: A New Chapter Chapter 21 Part 1

We are getting closer to the end of this story and I just wanted to let regular readers know that the book will not be called A New Chapter when I am done with it and publish it in book form. Last week it struck me that I already have A New Beginning and now I was going to call this book A New Chapter. It seemed a bit lazy on the naming side so I have changed A New Chapter to Beauty For Ashes and at this point it is scheduled to be released in full on April 26. I haven’t decided if I will keep the book in Kindle Unlimited or not yet.

For those who are new here, I share a chapter of a novel in progress on Fridays for Fiction Friday but sometimes I also share a part on a Thursday or Saturday. The version I share here often changes before I push publish on the final book down the line.

If you want to read the other chapters click HERE and if you want to read the other books click HERE.

Chapter 21 Part I

A cool breeze brushed Ginny’s hair back as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. She rubbed her hands across her arms and breathed in the smell of winter on its way.

“I was going to suggest we go for a walk, but maybe it’s a little too chilly for that.” Keith tilted his head toward the riverwalk across the street as he zipped his coat. “What do you think?”

It was chilly and she needed to get home, yet part of her wasn’t ready to go home. She was still angry at Stan, disappointed that he’d stood her up once again.

She zipped her coat up under her chin. “I could go for a walk. I need to burn some calories after that desert.”

The river was high, the streetlights lining the riverwalk reflecting a bright, blue-tinted white off the surface. The town of Clarkston had installed the riverwalk ten years ago, but replaced the electric lights with LED a year ago to be more energy efficient. Ginny understood the need to care about the environment, but she missed the cozy orange glow of the old streetlights.

“It’s cold but it’s beautiful.” Keith paused at one of the observation areas and leaned on the metal railing, looking out across the river. “I remember kayaking in this river with my dad. We tipped one,” he pointed toward a bend island further down river. “right about there. I thought I was going to drown but the old man grabbed the front of my vest with one hand and yanked me all the way to the island. The kayak floated to the other shore. There were no cellphones back then, as you know, so we waited, not sure what we were going to do. I was pretty sure I could swim to the other side.” He winced. “But dad wasn’t so sure. The water was pretty deep and there was a current there. We were lucky a fisherman came by an hour later and rescued us.”

Ginny stood next to him and smiled. “You were a lot more adventurous than I was as a teen. I can’t remember ever climbing into a kayak. You couldn’t get me to climb into one now either.” She laughed. “Then again, maybe it would spice up my life a little bit.”

She regretted saying it as soon as it was out of her mouth. Why was she sharing the need to spice up her life with a man she barely knew? Sure, she’d known him years ago, in high school, but not now. He was practically a stranger, even if they did have some shared memories and had been talking to each other off and on the last few weeks.

Keith turned and leaned back on the railing. “It’s never too late to add some excitement to your life, you know. I could take you kayaking.”

Ginny laughed. “And you’d be dragging me out of the river, I’m pretty sure.”

Keith winked. “I wouldn’t mind that. Much more rewarding than that time I had to push a dead beaver out of the way.”

Ginny made a face. “Oh gross. I’m not sure that’s the adventure I’d like to have.”

 

Keith’s laugh was rich and sent a rush of energy through Ginny. It was nice to hear a man relaxed enough to let out an authentic laugh. He pushed off the railing and started walking again. She fell in step with him, her muscles relaxing as she began to enjoy the freedom and lightness of the night. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to simply talk with another adult — well, beside Liz — without feeling like what she said wasn’t important.

Keith sighed. “I feel like I’ve missed a lot of the good things of life, Gin. I worked a lot during my marriage. Missy and I weren’t compatible. Not at all. But it didn’t help I was at the office more than I was home. I don’t want to keep missing out on life. I don’t want it all to pass me by while I’m on a conference call or sitting in a boardroom somewhere.”

He slid his hands in his jean pockets as he walked. “Maybe this is just a getting old thing. Do you ever feel like you’ve missed out on life?”

Boy, did she. “In some ways, yes.” She bit her lower lip, not sure how much she felt comfortable sharing. “There are a lot of things I wished I had done. I wish I had traveled more, tried more new things. That’s why I was at the art class, actually. I wanted to try something new, or, well, a little old for me since I took some art classes in college. I wanted something just for me again. Reading used to be just for me but then I became a librarian, and we don’t have the time for reading people think we do. We’re shelving and checking books out, but we aren’t reading them very often.”

She pulled her hood up to block the breeze. “It’s weird but when you’re a mom you feel like you’re whole life revolves around your children when they are home and then when they move out, well, you wonder what the purpose of your life is.” She smiled faintly. “I know. It’s silly.”

“No.” Keith stopped walking and turned toward her and she stopped too. “It’s not silly. It’s real. Life is real and messy and yeah, sometimes we lose our way in it and forget that it’s not only about making money or raising kids or making our spouses happy. Life is also about being happy, experiencing every last drop of being alive there is until we aren’t alive anymore.” He threw his hands out to his side. “Don’t you miss feeling alive, Ginny? I do. I miss feeling like I did when I was a teenager – that my future was unmapped and it was ripe for excitement and adventure and all the things that make life worth living.”

Yes, she missed feeling alive. She sighed. She missed feeling alive with Stan.

“I want to feel alive again, Ginny and when I’m with you, that’s how I feel.”

His gaze focused on hers. “I kissed you on that water tower. Do you remember?”

Ginny’s cheeks flushed warm, panic bubbling up inside her fast, ready to explode through her body and send her running up the sidewalk along the river and back to her car. “Yes, I remember.”

“It was a nice kiss.” The step he took toward her was full of purpose and the shock of it left her frozen, unable to move away. “A kiss full of life.”

The sudden movement of his hand behind her head brought a gasp from her throat and she put her hands up, but his mouth was already on hers. She pressed her hands against her chest, planning to push him away, but the kiss was fierce, hot, sending flames skittering through her blood stream, awakening what had been asleep for too long. Her mind clouded, the pleasure of his mouth against her making her forget where she was and who she was for a few second. She let the kiss linger without even thinking how wrong it was.

His hand on her lower back pulled her against him and the kiss deepened, but as it did, she saw Stan in her mind, his smile, his laughter, the flash of passion in his eyes when he lowered his mouth to hers so many times over the years  — the Stan she used to know so well.

She pulled back quickly, gasping for a breath, yanking herself from Keith’s embrace, her hands still out in front of her. “Keith. I’m a married woman.”

“Ginny, I’m sorry.” He stepped toward her, but she pushed her hands toward him again and he stopped moving his arms still out as if he was holding her. “You’re a beautiful woman and it drives me crazy that Stan doesn’t seem to notice that. You’re smart, bright, funny, engaging. . .You deserve better than some man who is married to his job.”

Ginny hugged her arms around her and shook her head, closing her eyes. “I shouldn’t have let you do that, Keith.”

“Why? I felt you come alive in my arms, Ginny.” Keith set his hands on his waist and gestured toward her. “You clearly needed to be reminded you’re still a vibrant, passionate woman. Admit it. That kiss made you feel alive again.”

For a few seconds, it had. He was right. But it had also made her feel weak with guilt and horror at betraying her wedding promise to Stan. She’d promised to have and to hold, for better or for worse, not to let an ex-boyfriend kiss her when she felt neglected and lonely.

“I’ve had a wonderful night, Keith, but I need to go home.”

She turned, walking briskly toward the top of the riverwalk, her arms still hugged tight around her.

“Ginny! Wait!”

Keith’s footsteps behind her only quickened her steps. His hand on her wrist stopped her and she turned to look at him.

The confidence was gone, replaced with an expression she read as contrition. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. “I got caught up in the moment, in my own desires to feel alive again.” He closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head. “It was wrong. You’re married and —” He looked at her again. “I’m just sorry. Can you forgive me?”

She folded her hands in front of her face, blew on them to try to chase the chill away. “I do forgive you, if you forgive me for leading you on.”

Keith laughed. “You didn’t lead me on. You were just being your normal sweet, amazing self and I took advantage of it. I didn’t plan on doing that, just so you know. It was the atmosphere, the good conversation, how beautiful you looked in the moonlight. It was like we were in high school again. I suddenly regretted walking away from you and letting Stan have you.”

Ginny stepped back again. “You didn’t let Stan have me, Keith. I chose him.” She gestured toward the direction of her car. “I need to go. It’s late.”

“Can we still talk sometimes?”

She shook her head, turning away from him. “No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She looked over her shoulder. “I hope things work out with your business and you enjoy your time back in Spencer.”

She saw him standing in the middle of the sidewalk, watching her, as she turned the corner to head toward her car. The tears came when he was out of sight, flowing freely, cooling on her cheek as soon as they fell. Her body trembled as she walked, horror slicing through her. How had she let herself lose track of reality back there?

What[lh1]  was she even thinking walking along the river after a dinner alone with a man who wasn’t her husband? What had happened to her? Stan wasn’t perfect but it wasn’t as if he was abusing her, beating her, screaming at her. He was inattentive, yes, but he didn’t deserve this – for her to be going behind his back, kissing another man.

She quickly unlocked the door of her car and slid behind the steering wheel, slamming the door closed and locking the door. Clutching the steering wheel, she pressed her forehead against the middle of it and sobbed.

“You are so, so stupid, Ginny Jefferies. So stupid.” The sobs came fast and hard, causing her to gasp for breath as an ache spread from her chest up her throat.

“God, what has happened to me? Who have I become? Forgive me, Father. Forgive me for being swept away by Keith’s charm, for losing sight of the commitment I made to Stan on our wedding day. Can you forgive me?”

She turned the ignition, checked her side mirror, and yanked the car out of the parking space, pressing her foot on the accelerator.

“Forgive me, Father.” The words choked out of her as she drove, fighting past the tears. “Forgive me for what I did. And please, please let Stan forgive me too.”

You Are My Sunshine is not necessarily a ‘happy song’

You Are My Sunshine is a happy song, right?

It’s talking about a person being someone else’s sunshine.

This is probably why my aunt used to sing the chorus to people she loved so often, especially my son (who I call The Boy for the sake of the blog).

Aunt Dianne sang the chorus of that song from the first time she met The Boy right after he was born up until right before she passed away two days before 2018 kicked off.

She sang it in the fun “hillbilly” way the song was originally written in, her original accent in full swing and even more pronounced. It was usually sung while she had an arm around our necks and she’d end the chorus with a sloppy wet kiss on our cheek and a good-natured laugh.

When she passed away, Mom asked me if I would pull some photos together to display for her funeral, as I had for my paternal grandmother. I went into Walmart for some supplies, deciding I’d put together a display on poster board and then some extra photos in a photo album. As I walked up and down the arts and crafts aisle, still very much in the throes of grief, feeling like a heavy weight was on my shoulders, I was frozen in place by a photo album sitting at the front of the album display.

The words on the front were written in bright yellow: You Are My Sunshine.

I broke down right there in the aisle, clutching the album to my chest, feeling like it was a sign from Dianne, telling me she loved me.

A woman asked me if I was okay.

I sobbed out some words about my aunt dying and how she’d always sang this song to my son and me and the words on the album was some sign. I’m sure I didn’t make any sense at all.

The boy and I have a hard time hearing the song without everything inside us tightening up like the ropes on a ship sail and we usually turn it off or move somewhere we can’t hear it.

The other day I came across a version of it by a band called The Dead South and for some reason, I kept listening.

My heart ached listening to the familiar refrain, but I enjoyed their more maudlin interpretation of it because some of the lyrics suggest there is a bit of sadness in the song and The Dead South used a version of the song that makes the lyrics even more heartbreaking, maybe even a bit eerie. Yes, there is more than one version of the song, with some who sing it choosing to drop some of the more depressing parts to make it more of a lullaby.

The more upbeat version of the song, like the one sung by the original performer of the song — Jimmie Davis — or the one in the movie O’ Brother Where Art Thou, is what most people are used to hearing. If you really listen to the first verse, however, you’re already prepared for the song to be a little depressing.


The other night, dear
As I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you, in my arms
When I awoke, dear
I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried

As you see here, they awoke without that person in their arms, which is fairly melancholy, and why The Dead South version is probably one of the more accurate emotionally-wise versions that I have ever heard. A distant cousin hilariously disagreed with me when I shared it on Facebook, writing that the band had virtually “murdered” the song. Her response made me giggle because she was right, to a point anyhow. I think she felt it was a case of musical homicide because she was used to hearing my aunt, and others, sing it as a happy song. Believe me, I totally understand, but for some reason, The Dead South version still appeals to me, thought not as much as the version my aunt sang to me.

On its surface, You Are My Sunshine isn’t the saddest song ever, so it’s okay to sing it with a bit of an upbeat melody. Really, though, it’s clear that the point of view of the person singing it is practically begging the person they are singing to to stay with them.

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You’ll never know, dear
How much I love you
Please don’t take my sunshine away

Even more unsettling are the subsequent verses:

I’ll always love you and make you happy
If you will only say the same
But if you leave me to love another
You’ll regret it all someday

It is this line —  You’ll regret it all someday — that The Dead South lead singer sings in a much more threatening way than most likely the author of the song originally intended.

This next verse isn’t much better:

You told me once, dear, you really loved me 
And no one else could come between
But now you’ve left me and love another
You have shattered all my dreams

So, if the original lyrics are sung to this song, it is much more of a downer than the perky tune suggests.

There is quite a bit of debate on who actually wrote the song even though two-time Louisiana Governor Jimmie Davis and a man named Charles Mitchell are credited with it. Davis recorded it in 1940.

Lore has it that a man named Oliver Hood of Georgia actually wrote the song, but that Davis and Mitchell copyrighted it in 1940 after purchasing it from a man named Paul Rice who Hood’s family used to write with Hood.

In a 1990 article in Chronicles Magazine, writer Theodore Pappas claimed that Hood wrote the song and that his descendants back up this fact by saying he first sang it in 1933 at a Veterans of Foreign Wars convention in LaGrange.

Pappas also insisted that Davis never claimed authorship because he had purchased the song from Rice. Davis simply copyrighted in and renewed that copyright in 1967 with both his and Mitchell’s name on it.

In later interviews, Rice said he wrote the song in 1937 and based it on letters he had received from a girl in South Carolina who called him her “sunshine.” Rice also said that many people have claimed to have written the song over the years, despite him saying he had written it. After all my research, I’m also still not sure who ultimately put the more chipper melody to the words, Hood, Rice, or Davis.

In the end, the song still remains a favorite among many, no matter who wrote it.

If you are a fan of the more happy versions that have come out over the years, and dead set against listening to a more serious one, you probably wouldn’t be interested in The Dead South’s version. But if can bring yourself to listen to it, stick with it at least until the cello solo, which I think is perfectly lovely and saves the song for even the most stringent fan of the original version.

(If you are reading this through your WordPress reader, click through to the blog to see the video.)

What the different versions of this one song goes to show is how much inflection and tone can affect meaning, whether in song or the spoken word.

Regardless of who sings the song and how they sing it, it will always hold a special meaning for me and my family and for the person who sang it to us — the woman who was our sunshine when skies were gray.

The many adventures we do and do not have in very cold weather.

I looked at the small kitten padding at high speed across the frozen surface of the snow and ice and pondered if I wanted to chase after her. I was sure that like usual, I would almost reach her, and she would dart out of my reach again until I was left gasping in the cold air, reaching for my rescue inhaler.

Still, it was only 18 degrees out and I didn’t want her running up a tree, getting stuck, and freezing to death.

Luckily, my son saw the crisis unfolding and swept Scout up before she could get very far.

Sadly, she escaped through the open door fifteen minutes later and darted away from my son, racing to the top of a smaller, naked tree in our backyard.

If you’re new to this blog, then you don’t know that this young cat, who I still call a kitten, has left us biting our nails many times because she has climbed tree after tree, sometimes unable to figure out how to climb down.  She got herself so stuck one time, our neighbor contacted the town fire department, and they brought their ladder truck to rescue her.

My son and husband had to leave to drop off some groceries at my parents, so I said I’d watch the kitten and wait for her to come down. She eventually did come down and then somehow ran past me into the house, without me seeing her. I had shut the side door, shaking my head after I had watched her climb down from the tree, hoping she would run inside and when I stepped inside to shut the inside door I was surprised to see Scout sitting on the top step of our basement stairs. She must have run back inside when I wasn’t looking.

The bitter cold most likely chased her back inside, as it has been doing each time she’s escaped for the past six weeks or so.

Some winters bring our area snow and some cold. This year we have been plunged into a type of deep freeze as temperatures have been below freezing on more days in December and January than they have been above freezing.

These temps have not only stranded the humans inside, but also our outside cat, Pixel, and our want-to-be outside cat, Scout.

And if it hasn’t been the cold that has kept us inside, it has been the snow or ice covering our steep driveway. Right now our driveway is frozen under two-solid inches of ice and a small dusting of snow. Shoveling or snow blowing it is out of the question because of how solid the ice is. The ice storm that hit us Thursday has left some area businesses and churches closed because not even the commercial snow removal companies are able to rip up the ice without causing damage to their equipment.

Our outside cat is severely disappointed by the cold, one because we have been telling her it’s simply too cold for her to go out and then don’t let her go out and two, because she seems to expect a different outcome on the rare occasion we do allow her outside. For about three weeks now I’ve had to explain to her over and over how cold it is, but for some reason, she doesn’t seem to understand me. Hmmm..it’s almost like she’s a cat and not human.

So, she goes out into the cold and looks around her, bewildered each time. I close the door and five minutes later I find her looking into our kitchen window plaintively begging to come back in as if I have cruelly tossed her out into the cold.

She stays inside for about half an hour and then she’s back at the door scratching at the door frame trying to get our attention so she can go back out again. For a while, this was happening every 30 minutes or so. Then she finally seemed to get that it wasn’t going to get any warmer and the stretches of time between she wanted to outside got longer.

Then she eventually started to just curl up in a little ball on one of our couches or chairs or near the fire accepting that it was simply too cold to go out and explore and hunt for mice. You would think that she would forget about the outside after a while but that’s so far hasn’t happened. She is still itching to get out even when it is below freezing. Sunday she didn’t try to leave the house even once, instead making one of the recliners her bed.

The Boy and my husband’s trip to my parent’s came when my 78-year old dad called to tell me he had just taken a ride on a runner sled on the ice below his barn and it was the most frightened he’d ever been on a sled ride.

He’d gone out to test the sled because he said the ice would be perfect for sledding since there was no softer layer of snow under this snow, only solid layer upon layer of ice. He said this would make the ride exhilarating but also terrifying because a spill off the sled could mean a cut to the face if it hit the hard ice. To stop his ride, and keep himself from flying off into the woods several hundred yards away from the top of the hill, my dad had to slam the heals of his boots against the ice several times until they broke in enough to stop him.

He knows my son is a daredevil of sorts, so he invited him over to try a ride of his own.

My son took one ride on the sled and another ride without anything, simply sliding on his snow pants.

It was too cold to spend too much time outside since the thermometer stayed around 26 in the afternoon, dropping back to 21 in the evening. Based on what the weather app on my phone says (though it is often wrong) it looks like we will have some warmer weather later this week but it still won’t go up much above freezing.

This winter has been a little different since we have had more cold and less snow. In some ways, it feels like we have had snow but in fact, we only had one storm of about 7 inches and then it got so cold that the snow never melted. So, we have had snow on the ground around our house for about a month. It melted some the day before this latest ice storm came in but then the ice and a couple of inches of snow covered the ground again. I’m not complaining since I am used to Pennsylvania winters. If I was going to complain my only small complaint would be that I can’t get out of my steep driveway when it is icy and messy out so sometimes I am stranded for days at a time.

Opportunities for photographs are also reduced when the weather is bitter cold. When I do get outside, though, I’m grateful for the beauty winter often offers. Last week I snatched some photos of our ice-encased trees and bushes but spent as little time in the yard as possible since it was so cold.

 My husband has to travel in the cold, sadly, and since he tolerates the cold better than I do he has attended a couple of events in the cold winter air for his job, including a horse-drawn sled race that was held a couple of weeks ago in our town. I would have gone but the high that day was eight and I do have a little bit of trouble breathing in the cold air thanks to asthma as a child and maybe my battle with You Know What two months ago. I had him send me a few of the photos from that event so I could share them here. Keep in mind that the temperature in these photos is 8 degrees. Eight degrees!

I am looking forward to spring and warmer weather but until then I will enjoy snuggling up in front of our woodstove with a cup of tea a good book and our dog Zooma.

Even though life can be a little mundane in the winter I enjoy the slow pace of it. In the spring and summer, I feel like I have to do things, or I should be out and about because the weather is nice. In the winter I am allowed the excuse of cold weather for keeping me in the house and keeping the pace slow and easy.

If only our cats could appreciate the slow and easy life of winter as much as I do.

Book Review: Freedom Crossing

Title: Freedom Crossing

Author: Margaret Goff Clark

Publisher: Scholastic

Description: Little Miss and I read Freedom Crossing by Margaret Goff Clark for her history/literature curriculum in the months of December and January. It is a Scholastic book published for children from 8 and up.

The book takes place in the mid-1800s, prior to the Civil War, and is about a young girl named Laura who moves back home with her brother and father, several years after the death of her mother. Originally she was sent to live with her aunt and uncle in the South, where slavery was a normal part of life. Her father asks for her to come home again, but once there she doesn’t know where she fits in.

The book opens with her father being gone on a business trip and her being home alone with her brother Bert when a young man named Joel, who Laura knew from her childhood shows up late at night. With him is a young African American boy, named Martin, who she soon learns is a runaway slave. Even more shocking to her is the fact her brother, father, and Joel are all part of the Underground Railroad and are planning to help Martin escape to Canada to join his family. Helping runaway slaves leave their masters and escape to freedom is something Laura’s family has been involved in for months now and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

In her aunt and uncle’s home, African Americans were treated as slaves, but they were not treated cruelly. Being a slave isn’t that bad, is it? She doesn’t think so and at first, she refuses to help her brother and childhood friend smuggle the young boy to freedom. She wants to wait for her father to come home, but there’s no time. Martin needs to be taken to a meet-up location with other members of the Underground Railroad within a couple of days and their father won’t be home before then.

As slave hunters close in, Laura has to decide if she wants to obey the law in place that will send anyone to jail who helps a runaway slave or bring Martin to freedom.

REVIEW

Freedom Crossing is full of action, but also lessons. It teaches young children about the horrors and sadness of slavery without being graphic or too dark. Through Laura’s confusion and reluctance to help her family, children learn how easy it was at that time to believe slavery was normal. As the book progresses, though, it becomes clear that Laura is misguided in her understanding of what slavery truly is.

The reader is educated at the same time as Laura not only about how dehumanizing slavery was (and is) but how important the Underground Railroad and the abolitionist movement were to help thousands of slaves find freedom from abusive masters. Thanks to the nail-biting action in the book, it can be easy to forget the book is aimed at giving young readers a history lesson. In the end, though, the book uses the story of Martin, Laura, Bert, and Joel to make sure young people know the true story of slavery in the United States and the movement by many to put an end to it.

Sunday Bookends: Ice, ice baby, finally finished that Longmire book, and earworms

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

What’s Been Occurring

Cold. Cold. Cold. That’s what it has been in our neck of the woods for over a month now with this past week still being cold and then having an ice storm thrown into the mix.

Little Miss and I managed to make it 12 miles to get our hair cut before the ice storm set in on Thursday evening into Friday.

We woke up Friday morning with our trees, driveway, and many other things encased in ice. Unlike other ice storms where the ice melted during the day when the sun came out, there was no sun after this ice storm and the temps dropped even more over Friday night into Saturday, leaving us still encased in ice, with no sign of warmer temperatures for a couple of days. Saturday’s high was 16. Yikes.

The ice did make for some fun photographs, most of which I took with my iphone because my regular camera wasn’t happy with trying to capture close up photos. Mainly because I don’t own a micro lens and my nifty fifty was struggling to focus on the frozen drips of water.

The Boy was quite thrilled that he could run across the surface of the snow from our back porch and up the hill toward our garden shed late Friday evening when the temps had dropped around 14. Yesterday morning the temperature started at about 3 degrees and rose slightly while my husband chipped his car out of its parking space since none of us thought about the snow and ice freezing around the tires after he parked. He traveled to pick us up a grocery order about 45 minutes away, because that’s how far away we are from anywhere that offers grocery pick-up.

Before he did that, he started the fire in the woodstove and while he was out in the cold forging for food, I was in the warm house reading books and occasionally breaking up arguments about who would have the privilege of holding the Elsa doll and playing her for the “movie” Little Miss and her friends were creating during an impromptu playdate. They didn’t have a camera, so it wasn’t really a movie. It was more like a play.

Either way, I let them know that none of them should want to be Elsa because she was the real bad guy in the first movie anyhow. I mean, think about it, the woman froze an entire village in, causing a near economic collapse of the region. The village, serving as a commerce port, most likely supplied fish and fresh food to many other villages in a 50-mile radius so when Elsa had her little hissy fit, she threatened not only the livelihoods of the people in the village but also the lives of the people who relied on the village for their food.

“It wasn’t her fault!” little voices cried, horrified that I would suggest Elsa was the bad guy in it all. “She couldn’t control her powers.”

I swiftly mocked them. “It wasn’t her fault. Wawawa! It was. Get over it. She was evil.”

They eventually decided I was picking on them (I was not) and moved on to my suggestion that they all pretend to be in a Barbie girl band so they all could sing together at the same time.

(If you are new to my blog, please realize I use sarcasm a lot. I didn’t actually mock young children. I just joked with them. *wink*

Today promises more freezing temperatures and while I would prefer not to venture out, we will most likely go have lunch with my parents and maybe watch a movie before we come home like we did last week when we watched Song of the Thin Man, the last of the Thin Man movies with Myrna Lloyd and William Powell.

 After that, I have no plans to leave the house, but I am sure that at some point I will have to.

I know many of you who read my blog pray so I would ask that you say an extra prayer for me and The Boy. We lost our sense of taste and smell with Covid and while most of it came back from me, it has been much slower for The Boy. Now he and I both seem to be developing parosmia. This is where smell and taste is distorted and many things begin to smell and taste rotten. Please pray that this does not progress for us as it has for other Covid-19 survivors.

Right now peanut butter and garlic smell like a chemical to me and peanut butter tastes like one. My son is having the same issue with peanut butter, oddly. I’m trying to stay calm about it all and I do have some natural options we can try, so I ask that you pray for them to work. I’m especially worried about my son as he has already had stomach issues off and on over the years. From what I understand, this condition gets worse over time, not better for a while anyhow.

What I/We Are Reading

I did it. I finally finished The Dark Horse, the fifth book in the Longmire Mysteries series.  The series is great, and I love Craig Johnson’s writing, so the quality of the book wasn’t why it took me so long to finish it. I took so long because of being sick with Covid and then not being interested in dark stories while I was recovering for the month of December.

Up this week I hope to finish The Cat Who Saw Stars by Lilian Jackson Braun and continue The Reckoning Trees by Alicia Gilliam. I also started Miss Julia Renews Her Vows by Ann B. Ross to see what it is like and I’m hooked, so The Reckoning Trees might get bumped down. I’m not sure yet. I usually read a hard copy of one book during the day and the Kindle at night after I am in bed so I may read Miss Julia and The Reckoning Trees at the same time, after I finish The Cat Who book. Not that any of you care so I have no idea why I am sharing all that! Ha!

Little Miss and I have already read The Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder but we are set to read it again since it is part of our history/literature curriculum this week. I told her we didn’t need to read it again but she said she wanted to. It also reminded her how much she liked the Little House series so now she has asked me to read the second book in the series to her again. I’d prefer to keep reading The Mouse and the Motorcycle but if she likes Little House on the Prairie, we will read it again.

The Boy will probably finish A Long Walk to Water this week.

What We’ve Been Watching/Watched

I read more than I watched this week but I did watch, for some unknown reason, Runaway Bride, which I think is both sweet and awful at the same time. Richard Gere sort of irritates me. In every movie he just plays Richard Gere. Arrogant and cocky with a pout. But that’s just my opinion.

The Boy and I watched a couple of episodes of Longmire. Yes, I realize it’s like we have a theme going on in our house this week.

The husband and I watched the pilot episode of Fringe. I don’t know if I will watch more of that one. Science Fiction isn’t really my thing as much as it is for my husband

What I’m Writing

I have been working on getting to the end of A New Chapter’s first draft and hope to have it done by the end of this week. Every morning last week I wrote for 2-3 hours with a group of writers from Novel Academy. We participated in writing sprints that last about fifty minutes each.

I have not been writing as much on the blog, but hope to remedy that as soon as this first draft is finished. I will have to work on the second draft and editing, but that won’t be as time consuming as writing the first draft is.

What I’m Listening To

Ah man. This week I got an ear worm stuck in my head and couldn’t get it out.

Here it is for you, so you can also get it stuck in your head:

Then you can also listen to this other earworm by them:

The rest of the week I listened to a lot of Mumford and Sons and The Dead South while I worked on my book.

I sort of liked The Dead South’s version of You Are My Sunshine, a song my aunt used to sing to me and my son. If you actually listen to the song, it’s not a very happy one, so the happy version of the song is a little bit of a juxtapose I suppose you might say. A family member told me the band murdered the song with this version, but I thought the interpretation was creative.

 I also listened to quite a bit of Brandon Lake, especially this song:

Then I introduced my son to Vanilla Ice and he was horrified.

Now it’s your turn

So that is my week in review. How about you? What have you been doing, reading, watching, writing, or listening to? Let me know in the comments.