Cathy Lamb's Blog, page 3

My Mom and a Burgundy Clematis

Happy Sunday! I’m reading / writing / sitting in my garden. See the clematis? That was my late mother’s.

She’s been gone 23 years and every summer when it blooms I just smile, and get a little teary, and remember what a beautiful, amazing, strong woman she was.

We both love books, we both love gardening, we both love reading books in a garden.

New – Old Book Coming Out Soon!

I’m Not Yours is coming out soon! Two happy-ending, funny love stories set in Oregon: The Apple Orchard and June’s Lace. Perfect for summer and for those who need to read cheerful books to counter the mess and stress of real life. Links to follow.

++ Both stories published eons ago in 2012 and 2013 in anthologies. If ya don’t remember reading them then, they’ll be NEW TO YOU.

When the Moon is Full…

If you need a summer read, I have two short stories coming out soon, June’s Lace and The Apple Orchard. The title of the book is I’m Not Yours. Cover and link will be available when the moon is full and a small rainbow shines overhead.

(Previously published in You’re Still the One and Beach Season eons ago…in a far away galaxy…in a time when buggies were pulled by horses and bonnets were worn…)

Cat Bath

Some people have a bird bath. I, however, have a cat bath.

 

Crashing and Bashing

Two Things.One: I did not expect all the blood.Two: I knew it was too late to go running.But I need to run four times a week or my brain sizzles and fizzles in a really bad way and I’d been too busy to run earlier.Running and sweating cleans my brain out. I have no medical or scientific data to back that up, it’s just how I, as a writer with too many troublesome characters in my head, and a person prone to irrational worry, sees it.The night was quiet except for an off-key gang of geese as I huffed and puffed through the neighborhood wishing I was a lazy sloth in the bath eating cookies while watching reality TV. I am quite talented at being a lazy sloth.I don’t know why the devious curb all of the sudden decided to wiggle and trip me up. I don’t know why the evil sidewalk extended a bit of cement with a cackle. I don’t know why the criminal cracks in the concrete widened deliberately at that exact moment, but I’m quite sure they did.I tripped. Hard. I may have halfway twirled in the air before crashing and bashing up my knees, my elbow, and my hands. My right hand did not want to move anymore, I noted, as blood dripped from all of the other aforementioned places. I lay there for awhile, closely examining from mere inches, the sidewalk.My phone, which I use to listen to books or music, had gone flying into the night sky so when I could speak I barked out a whole litany of very bad swear words and crept around on my bloodied up knees to find it.I was only mildly embarrassed about those swear words as I briefly hoped I did not end on You Tube with a caption like, “Old Woman Swears Wildly as she Crawls Around the Ground,” or “This is the Kind of Crazy – Ass Woman You Don’t Want to Become,” or “When Seniors Talk and Swear to Imaginary Friends and Enemies: What to do.”Read the rest here on my FREE Substack newsletter… https://open.substack.com/pub/cathyla...

New Books and Magical Passageways

Greetings from Oregon!I have two books coming out – one for summer with two short stories, and one for Christmas with three short stories.They’re stories I wrote for anthologies years ago with other authors so my guess is that they may be new to most of you. This is the first time my stories are packaged together.I wrote them with hope, laughter, and entertainment in mind. Yes, they’re all happy endings, which we desperately need right now, and yes, there’s a little romance, but more than that they’re about women whose lives have become a s***storm and they’re putting them back together. You may be familiar with your life becoming a s***storm, as I am.So, PLEASE, save some room in your summer / Christmas book lists for these Cover for the beach book stories coming soon.This is a cool “secret passageway” that Innocent Husband and I saw this weekend on a hike at the Oregon coast. It has nothing to do with my books, but that “secret passageway” made me think of time travel books and magical mysteries and enchantments.Yes, this is where a writer’s mind goes…anything can trigger a storyline.Wishing you some magical enchantments.

Dirt is Good For You

The glamor in my life continues.

This is me after I finished using a pressure washer on our trellis.

As you can see I am wearing dirt for make up. But AT LEAST the patio is clean, and my flowers are planted, helping to make my garden pretty and peaceful for writing books.

Dirt is good for you, just try not to eat it.

Innocent Husband Was Mean to Me

This weekend I told Innocent Husband that I needed to go to the store to buy more flowers. Specifically, petunias.He was aghast. Aghast!He spread his arms out wide like an avenging eagle and indicated the new flowers surrounding us in their black plastic containers.“What do you need MORE flowers for, Cathy?”I could hardly believe my ears. I was befuddled. Baffled. What did he mean when he said, “What do you need MORE flowers for?”That’s like asking me why I need air. Or a skeletal frame. Or cells. Or eyeballs or kidneys. “I don’t understand your question.”“You haven’t even planted the flowers that you already bought!” The husband – avenging eagle spread his arms out further. What was he trying to do? Fly away? Elevate himself? Become a human airplane? Silly man.This conversation was confusing to me so I glared at him. Yes, I had bought purple and magenta hydrangeas and a flowing fern and bright red, cheerful geraniums and purple fuchsias and an azalea that called my name in a sing-song voice. They had not been planted yet.Why was this an issue?Why was Innocent Husband botanically bullying me? Why was he speaking such nonsense?“As a gardener, you don’t need to plant all the flowers you’ve bought before you buy new ones.”Doesn’t everyone know this? Isn’t it common knowledge? “Are you feeling crazy, baby?”Innocent Husband sighed which indicated that he did not believe he was feeling crazy.I believed there was a possibility. Why on Earth would a sane husband ask such an inane question of his wife?I shook my head at him, the poor man. “The sun is effecting your ability to think. You should go lay down or watch golf and yell at golfballs.”“I don’t yell at golf balls,” he muttered.“Yeah, you do. I’ve seen it.”Click on the link to read my FREE article on Substack.https://cathylamb.substack.com/p/innocent-husband-was-mean-to-me?r=kayfq

Come and Join Me on Substack

Hello everyone,I am writing, now and then, when I see a hummingbird, when the stars are aligned in a mermaid shape, when the rain is sparkling, a newsletter on Substack.I talk about writing, life, and laughter.If you would like to sign up to receive my (rare) newsletters, you can click on this link. Have a lovely day.https://cathylamb.substack.com/

Vindictiveness

Warning: You may not like me by the end of this article.

I am asked all the time where I get my ideas for my books.

I think it’s an excellent question.

I get ideas everywhere. My quirky childhood. History. A gold and pink sunset on the Oregon coast. Clucky chickens. Pecan pies and whip cream.

Lies.

Revenge.

Vindictiveness.

It is probably not a smart idea to say that I have a slight vengeful side to my nature, as that is not attractive, but I am too old not to be truthful, and to know myself, and I admit it.

Not proud of it, but there it is: I have a vengeful bone in my body.

Probably just one. A small one. A mostly useless bone. Perhaps in my jaw or eye socket.

But when people really tick me off there is a likelihood that the obnoxious, condescending, dismissive, or judgmental PART of their personality is going to unceremoniously land in a character in one of my books.

That person will not, as a whole person, or even half a person, be in my book. My characters come completely out of my free-roaming imagination.

But that prickly, nauseating, dislikable PART will be in one of my characters.

I did this very thing in one of my last few books, the title of which shall mysteriously go unnamed.

A peculiar, sanctimonious sap of a woman lied about me. She should not have done that. The lie had a painful impact on my life.

I have envisioned her being slightly trampled by a shrieking ostrich. I cannot wish more upon her than that because I am not a mean sort of person who wishes ill on anyone.

God, Karma, a conscience that can spring to guilt in a mini-second, and my late mother’s sweet voice unfortunately gets in my way of truly cursing someone.

But I can write about that PART of her. The lying part.

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