Mark R. Hunter's Blog, page 15
February 14, 2023
Wake Me When Valentines Day Is Over
Note: I stumbled upon this post from 2006 recently, and thought it gave an interesting look at my viewpoint at the time--after my first marriage, but before my second. In other words, I'm much happier now.
________________________
What am I doing February 14th? Let’s see: I have a doctor’s appointment that day, and not with the “Love Doctor”. I’ll fit an early dinner in -- just me, with no chocolate for dessert in any form. Nor do I plan to buy myself, or anyone else, jewelry.
What do I have against Valentine’s Day? For starters, I was one of those Charlie Brown type kids who waited hopelessly by the mailbox for a Valentine that would never come. Eventually I got married – on Valentine’s Day. I’m no longer married. Get the picture? I could have just as easily gotten married on Christmas, and spent the rest of my life shooting at Santa’s sled with guided missiles.
I’m as romantic as the next person. Well, the next man. I’m up for hand holding, candlelit dinners, full body massages, and lingerie. Lingerie’s questionable, of course: Sexy female underwear is a gift for the giver, not the wearer. Personally, I love lingerie – but I’d never wear any. It’s uncomfortable (Okay, I assume), overpriced, and under covering, but it sure looks good on women …
Where was I?
The point is, I'm smart enough not to gift a microwave, or a new vacuum cleaner. Okay, once, but that was a joke, I swear, and the bruises healed.
Guys, it is not the thought that counts. It’s vital to understand that. It doesn’t matter how much you love that pair of season tickets to your favorite sportsball team. Also, you get no brownie points for recognizing that your lady needs a new mop. You can put on all the lovely wrapping and pretty bows you want, and she’s still going to wrap it around your neck.
After that it gets a bit more difficult. Candy is iffy, for instance. You might get the, “I’m trying to lose weight!” cry. “Don’t you care about me? How can you torture me like this?”
Just to clarify, I’m trying to lose weight, and yet would still gladly accept chocolate as a gift. In case anyone was wondering.
Cards are great, of course, but they don’t qualify as the gift – they go with the gift. Also, on this holiday funny cards are not funny. Go for something with poetry in it, and not poetry that starts with, “There once was a man from Nantucket”.
Flowers are generally safe, unless she’s allergic. Buying flowers goes against a man’s instinct: He doesn’t understand the point of something that doesn’t feed anyone, do anything, or provide entertainment, and soon becomes ugly and worthless. The parallels to your average politician are obvious.
Still, Valentine’s Day, like a wedding, is for women, not men. So going for the flowers seems like a good idea, until you consider the fact that certain flowers mean certain things. This flummoxes men. What do you men, yellow roses mean something different than pink roses? They’re flowers, man! Who made these rules? Who cares?
Well, the women care, that’s who. Get on the internet, ask a florist. You’ll soon find that baby’s breath has nothing to do with projectile vomiting, and that presenting a lady with black roses may not bring the reaction you’d hoped for. You might even be startled to find there actually are flowers other than roses. Carnations are more than condensed milk, fellas.
If all else fails – and it will – there’s another choice: Jewelry.
Yes, it's expensive. Get over it. Many women like sparklies, and I’m not talking about the finish of your new fishing boat. Speaking of which, if you’ve bought any “boys toys” in the last year, she will inevitably compare the value of her gift with the value of the toy. She may think, “He loves his boat/gun/four wheeler/golf clubs more than me!” She’ll be right, but believe me, admitting that is not the answer.
So suck it up, and get her the jewelry. And if your own toy is a brand new bass boat, add in the flowers and a really nice card, the one with three digits in the price. Think of it as insurance – you want to avoid those sudden glares that seem to happen out of the blue, which can lead to raging battles when you admit not knowing why she’s mad. You’re guaranteeing a peaceful home life and a contented significant other.
At least, until her birthday. You’ve got that marked on the calendar -- right?
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
________________________
What am I doing February 14th? Let’s see: I have a doctor’s appointment that day, and not with the “Love Doctor”. I’ll fit an early dinner in -- just me, with no chocolate for dessert in any form. Nor do I plan to buy myself, or anyone else, jewelry.
What do I have against Valentine’s Day? For starters, I was one of those Charlie Brown type kids who waited hopelessly by the mailbox for a Valentine that would never come. Eventually I got married – on Valentine’s Day. I’m no longer married. Get the picture? I could have just as easily gotten married on Christmas, and spent the rest of my life shooting at Santa’s sled with guided missiles.
I’m as romantic as the next person. Well, the next man. I’m up for hand holding, candlelit dinners, full body massages, and lingerie. Lingerie’s questionable, of course: Sexy female underwear is a gift for the giver, not the wearer. Personally, I love lingerie – but I’d never wear any. It’s uncomfortable (Okay, I assume), overpriced, and under covering, but it sure looks good on women …
Where was I?
The point is, I'm smart enough not to gift a microwave, or a new vacuum cleaner. Okay, once, but that was a joke, I swear, and the bruises healed.
Guys, it is not the thought that counts. It’s vital to understand that. It doesn’t matter how much you love that pair of season tickets to your favorite sportsball team. Also, you get no brownie points for recognizing that your lady needs a new mop. You can put on all the lovely wrapping and pretty bows you want, and she’s still going to wrap it around your neck.
After that it gets a bit more difficult. Candy is iffy, for instance. You might get the, “I’m trying to lose weight!” cry. “Don’t you care about me? How can you torture me like this?”
Just to clarify, I’m trying to lose weight, and yet would still gladly accept chocolate as a gift. In case anyone was wondering.
Cards are great, of course, but they don’t qualify as the gift – they go with the gift. Also, on this holiday funny cards are not funny. Go for something with poetry in it, and not poetry that starts with, “There once was a man from Nantucket”.
Flowers are generally safe, unless she’s allergic. Buying flowers goes against a man’s instinct: He doesn’t understand the point of something that doesn’t feed anyone, do anything, or provide entertainment, and soon becomes ugly and worthless. The parallels to your average politician are obvious.
Still, Valentine’s Day, like a wedding, is for women, not men. So going for the flowers seems like a good idea, until you consider the fact that certain flowers mean certain things. This flummoxes men. What do you men, yellow roses mean something different than pink roses? They’re flowers, man! Who made these rules? Who cares?
Well, the women care, that’s who. Get on the internet, ask a florist. You’ll soon find that baby’s breath has nothing to do with projectile vomiting, and that presenting a lady with black roses may not bring the reaction you’d hoped for. You might even be startled to find there actually are flowers other than roses. Carnations are more than condensed milk, fellas.
If all else fails – and it will – there’s another choice: Jewelry.
Yes, it's expensive. Get over it. Many women like sparklies, and I’m not talking about the finish of your new fishing boat. Speaking of which, if you’ve bought any “boys toys” in the last year, she will inevitably compare the value of her gift with the value of the toy. She may think, “He loves his boat/gun/four wheeler/golf clubs more than me!” She’ll be right, but believe me, admitting that is not the answer.
So suck it up, and get her the jewelry. And if your own toy is a brand new bass boat, add in the flowers and a really nice card, the one with three digits in the price. Think of it as insurance – you want to avoid those sudden glares that seem to happen out of the blue, which can lead to raging battles when you admit not knowing why she’s mad. You’re guaranteeing a peaceful home life and a contented significant other.
At least, until her birthday. You’ve got that marked on the calendar -- right?
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
February 8, 2023
book review: Decision In Normandy, by Carlo D'Este
The invasion of Normandy, France, during World War II, was a Big Deal.
If you know anything about history, you were already aware of that. But the battle is also clouded in myth and legend, and author Carlo D'Este decided to wade in and find out the truth of the matter. How hard could it possibly be?
Judging by the pages of acknowledgements, appendixes, and listed sources, I'm thinking it wasn't easy.
D'Este concentrates on the Allied ground commander in chief, General Sir Bernard Montgomery. (Ike Eisenhower had overall command of the entire operation--which maybe explains why he lost all his hair.) It was Montgomery who came up with the master plan for the invasion and its immediate aftermath. It was also Montgomery who tended to not only take credit whether due or not, but also continually insist everything went exactly according to that plan, often against all evidence.
This is a big picture book, concentrating on the various leaders on both sides. All the usual suspects are there, including Patton, Bradley, Rommel, and Churchill, along with a lot of other names that should be remembered more than they are. Often through their own words and writing, we follow their hopes, fears, and frustrations as the invasion threatens to bog down into the horrors of WWI trench warfare.
D'Este has an advantage over earlier authors: Access to a mountain of related material that remained top secret and unavailable for years or even decades after the war. He clearly spent a huge amount of time going through it, as well as tracking down every interview he could find. As a result he had a clear picture, warts and all, of everything that went on from the moment the invasion was decided on (and sometimes earlier), to the Allied breakout weeks later.
It's an unflinching look, especially at Alexander. D'Este admires the General's abilities, but isn't afraid to get into the dark side of a leader who was vain, opinionated, and dead set against ever admitting his mistakes. We're left with the picture of a man who was better than some people think, and worse than others believe--in other words only human, just like all of us. The same treatment is given to everyone in the command chain above and below Alexander, and D'Este's conclusions are often surprising--but backed up by facts and witnesses.
Decision in Normandy is no light skimming of history, and as such I suppose it will mostly attract hard core history and war fans. (Maybe "war fans" is the wrong way to put it.) I found it fascinating, but it was certainly also dry in places, as D'Este shovels on facts, maps, and military units. It was also a revelation to me--I've studied WWII all my life, and this book revealed things I never knew--or knew wrong.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
If you know anything about history, you were already aware of that. But the battle is also clouded in myth and legend, and author Carlo D'Este decided to wade in and find out the truth of the matter. How hard could it possibly be?
Judging by the pages of acknowledgements, appendixes, and listed sources, I'm thinking it wasn't easy.
D'Este concentrates on the Allied ground commander in chief, General Sir Bernard Montgomery. (Ike Eisenhower had overall command of the entire operation--which maybe explains why he lost all his hair.) It was Montgomery who came up with the master plan for the invasion and its immediate aftermath. It was also Montgomery who tended to not only take credit whether due or not, but also continually insist everything went exactly according to that plan, often against all evidence.
This is a big picture book, concentrating on the various leaders on both sides. All the usual suspects are there, including Patton, Bradley, Rommel, and Churchill, along with a lot of other names that should be remembered more than they are. Often through their own words and writing, we follow their hopes, fears, and frustrations as the invasion threatens to bog down into the horrors of WWI trench warfare.
D'Este has an advantage over earlier authors: Access to a mountain of related material that remained top secret and unavailable for years or even decades after the war. He clearly spent a huge amount of time going through it, as well as tracking down every interview he could find. As a result he had a clear picture, warts and all, of everything that went on from the moment the invasion was decided on (and sometimes earlier), to the Allied breakout weeks later.
It's an unflinching look, especially at Alexander. D'Este admires the General's abilities, but isn't afraid to get into the dark side of a leader who was vain, opinionated, and dead set against ever admitting his mistakes. We're left with the picture of a man who was better than some people think, and worse than others believe--in other words only human, just like all of us. The same treatment is given to everyone in the command chain above and below Alexander, and D'Este's conclusions are often surprising--but backed up by facts and witnesses.
Decision in Normandy is no light skimming of history, and as such I suppose it will mostly attract hard core history and war fans. (Maybe "war fans" is the wrong way to put it.) I found it fascinating, but it was certainly also dry in places, as D'Este shovels on facts, maps, and military units. It was also a revelation to me--I've studied WWII all my life, and this book revealed things I never knew--or knew wrong.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
February 4, 2023
Stressing Out Over PTSD
One stressful thing about being a dispatcher is that when the phone rings it could be anything. Many of us play Dispatch Bingo. A UFO report? A herd of cattle blocking the roadway? Lunch, interrupted? A couple arguing over who gets custody of their dog? That's a row--bingo!
For some dispatchers this is one of the perks of the job: the challenge and variety. For others, not so much.
Years ago the business line rang and, in a calm voice, a man gave me his name and home address, so we could notify his family. Then he gave me the location where we could find his body. Then he hung up.
Often, when a suicidal person reaches out, it's a cry for help. Not this time. When our units arrived they could only confirm my certainty: Immediately after hanging up the phone, he shot himself. I was the last person he ever spoke to.
It messed me up.
Word got around, and my boss called to check on me. I told him I would be okay, which was true in the long run. I don't know if I told him that in the short run I wasn't okay at all, but my wife was with me, and I hung in there.
I've served in three branches of the emergency services: EMS, Fire, and 911 Dispatch. If anyone mentions PTSD or critical incident stress, I immediately flash back to one particular call in each of those three areas. But a lot of time has passed since those incidents, and although they still dwell in the dark corners of my brain, they don't control my life.
Usually.
Earlier this year we received a report of a person threatening to kill themself with a gun. I didn't take that call, but the moment I heard the details my body chilled, I could barely breath, and my mind went numb. That suicide from so long ago crashed out of the cage I'd trapped it in and rampaged through my head.
It turns out the person in this case did not have a gun, and the whole thing ended peacefully. Still, it was a wake up call. A jangling alarm that took about five years off my life ... and after three decades at this job, I've already lost enough. It's one of the reasons why I've been pushing my writing career: Not only because I have a lot of stories to tell, but because I'd like to spend my time writing them instead of screaming into a pillow after work every morning.
(This is one time in this blog when I exaggerate: No, I don't scream into a pillow after work. I kiss my wife, hug the dog, and hit the bed, where I usually get a good eight hours of sleep in between the weird dreams.)
I'm not writing this to get sympathy for me. I just wanted to remind everyone that the person you think is strong and "normal" may be battling monsters inside. In fact, they may be the most cheerful people you know, always with a smile and a joke. But the effects of stress are real, and the challenge of maintaining our mental health is a stigma that still remains, even today.
Look after yourself. Look after your friends. And if someone says they're having a problem with their emotions or their mental state, take them seriously. Sometimes we make it look way easier than it is.
Now, I'm off to write some humor ... we all have our ways to cope.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
For some dispatchers this is one of the perks of the job: the challenge and variety. For others, not so much.
Years ago the business line rang and, in a calm voice, a man gave me his name and home address, so we could notify his family. Then he gave me the location where we could find his body. Then he hung up.
Often, when a suicidal person reaches out, it's a cry for help. Not this time. When our units arrived they could only confirm my certainty: Immediately after hanging up the phone, he shot himself. I was the last person he ever spoke to.
It messed me up.
Word got around, and my boss called to check on me. I told him I would be okay, which was true in the long run. I don't know if I told him that in the short run I wasn't okay at all, but my wife was with me, and I hung in there.
I've served in three branches of the emergency services: EMS, Fire, and 911 Dispatch. If anyone mentions PTSD or critical incident stress, I immediately flash back to one particular call in each of those three areas. But a lot of time has passed since those incidents, and although they still dwell in the dark corners of my brain, they don't control my life.
Usually.
Earlier this year we received a report of a person threatening to kill themself with a gun. I didn't take that call, but the moment I heard the details my body chilled, I could barely breath, and my mind went numb. That suicide from so long ago crashed out of the cage I'd trapped it in and rampaged through my head.
It turns out the person in this case did not have a gun, and the whole thing ended peacefully. Still, it was a wake up call. A jangling alarm that took about five years off my life ... and after three decades at this job, I've already lost enough. It's one of the reasons why I've been pushing my writing career: Not only because I have a lot of stories to tell, but because I'd like to spend my time writing them instead of screaming into a pillow after work every morning.
(This is one time in this blog when I exaggerate: No, I don't scream into a pillow after work. I kiss my wife, hug the dog, and hit the bed, where I usually get a good eight hours of sleep in between the weird dreams.)
I'm not writing this to get sympathy for me. I just wanted to remind everyone that the person you think is strong and "normal" may be battling monsters inside. In fact, they may be the most cheerful people you know, always with a smile and a joke. But the effects of stress are real, and the challenge of maintaining our mental health is a stigma that still remains, even today.
Look after yourself. Look after your friends. And if someone says they're having a problem with their emotions or their mental state, take them seriously. Sometimes we make it look way easier than it is.
Now, I'm off to write some humor ... we all have our ways to cope.
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
January 25, 2023
2022 Book Sales Report, Now Fortified With Jokes
Like many writers, I like it when people read my stuff. I like it even more when they buy my stuff, because that gets me one step closer to retiring to the life of Gentleman Author.
(There used to be a thing called Gentleman Farmer. I suspect that means sitting on your front porch while someone else does the actual work.)
My goal, coming into 2022, was to sell an average of one book a day. It doesn't seem like much: Just 365 books in a year. But according to the experts, the average book sells a grand total of 300-500 books, depending on circumstances such as whether they're self or traditionally published. It takes only 3,000 sales to get on the Wall Street Journal best-seller list, if that gives you an idea. And yet, according to my research, over eight billion new books are published every year.
I might be a little off on that number. But it's a lot. (The actual number is estimated to be between 2-4 million a year.)
That average of a book a day seemed like a good goal, and I succeeded. But that's not the whole story. I have four books on Amazon Ads, which takes a great deal of work to balance out sales and costs, and in that I did not succeed. In other words, I spent more money than I made. Anyone will tell you that's not a sustainable business model, unless you're the government.
The other thing is that it's hard for an author to tell how many copies they've actually sold. Confusing authors seems to be a dearly loved tradition in the publishing industry. I spent quite some time totaling mine up, and in the end I came up with 539 sales in 2022.
But.
First, that's not the final number, because I still haven't gotten quarterly and biannual royalty reports from a few of my publishers.
Second, while that's pretty good for one book, my sales were divided over eleven books. My biggest single seller was the romantic comedy Coming Attractions. Some of those weren't sales at all, but a giveaway over the holidays.
My second biggest seller was the humorous history book Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All. Everybody seems to love this book, and that came as a surprise because, although I have three history books, I consider myself more of a fiction writer.
But now I'm wondering if I shouldn't write something else of the same nature. Humor, history, trivia ... but about what? Hopefully something that gives me an excuse to travel around, like Hoosier Hysterical did.
So, what's my next goal? I figure that should be to sell at least one book every day. That's not the same: Yes, I sold over 500 in 2022, but some days I'd sell ten or twelve, and other days none at all. Due to illness and injury we didn't get Storm Chaser and The Notorious Ian Grant reissued as planned, so when they come back out at a lower price that should help, some. Meanwhile, I've got other books to sell, write, and dazzle agents and publishers with, so the work continues. (I submitted to agents, publishers, and fiction magazines 375 times in 2022.)
Oh, you didn't know the writing business was work? Well, there you go.
You can find the aforementioned books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Remember: Every time you don't buy a book, the Plain States get another blizzard. Spare the plows.
(There used to be a thing called Gentleman Farmer. I suspect that means sitting on your front porch while someone else does the actual work.)
My goal, coming into 2022, was to sell an average of one book a day. It doesn't seem like much: Just 365 books in a year. But according to the experts, the average book sells a grand total of 300-500 books, depending on circumstances such as whether they're self or traditionally published. It takes only 3,000 sales to get on the Wall Street Journal best-seller list, if that gives you an idea. And yet, according to my research, over eight billion new books are published every year.
I might be a little off on that number. But it's a lot. (The actual number is estimated to be between 2-4 million a year.)
That average of a book a day seemed like a good goal, and I succeeded. But that's not the whole story. I have four books on Amazon Ads, which takes a great deal of work to balance out sales and costs, and in that I did not succeed. In other words, I spent more money than I made. Anyone will tell you that's not a sustainable business model, unless you're the government.
The other thing is that it's hard for an author to tell how many copies they've actually sold. Confusing authors seems to be a dearly loved tradition in the publishing industry. I spent quite some time totaling mine up, and in the end I came up with 539 sales in 2022.
But.
First, that's not the final number, because I still haven't gotten quarterly and biannual royalty reports from a few of my publishers.
Second, while that's pretty good for one book, my sales were divided over eleven books. My biggest single seller was the romantic comedy Coming Attractions. Some of those weren't sales at all, but a giveaway over the holidays.
My second biggest seller was the humorous history book Hoosier Hysterical: How the West Became the Midwest Without Moving At All. Everybody seems to love this book, and that came as a surprise because, although I have three history books, I consider myself more of a fiction writer.
But now I'm wondering if I shouldn't write something else of the same nature. Humor, history, trivia ... but about what? Hopefully something that gives me an excuse to travel around, like Hoosier Hysterical did.
So, what's my next goal? I figure that should be to sell at least one book every day. That's not the same: Yes, I sold over 500 in 2022, but some days I'd sell ten or twelve, and other days none at all. Due to illness and injury we didn't get Storm Chaser and The Notorious Ian Grant reissued as planned, so when they come back out at a lower price that should help, some. Meanwhile, I've got other books to sell, write, and dazzle agents and publishers with, so the work continues. (I submitted to agents, publishers, and fiction magazines 375 times in 2022.)
Oh, you didn't know the writing business was work? Well, there you go.
You can find the aforementioned books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Remember: Every time you don't buy a book, the Plain States get another blizzard. Spare the plows.
January 20, 2023
Hey, guys--they're doing Valentine's Day again this year.
Coming off the big Sports Bowl weekend, it takes some men awhile to recover their senses and think of other things. They might realize Valentine's Day is coming up, and plan ahead for a special dinner, flowers, flowery dinners, and/or chocolate flowers at dinner.
But probably not.
Because they're men, and when Valentine’s Day is mentioned many will scratch their heads and say, "Are they doing that again this year? Basketball's coming up."
So, here's my suggestion for you guys: Go out right now and order the humor anthology My Funny Valentine in print or, if you're adventurous and your couch is extra comfy, e-book. (I have a few copies on hand.) It's an anthology of humor pieces ... about Valentine's Day. It was really easy to title.
One of the humor pieces is mine, and if I do say so myself, it's the best humor piece about Valentine's Day I've ever had published in an anthology.
Maybe your loved one is allergic to flowers and chocolate, and how sad is that? Buy her a book. Most women who read love books. So do men who read, but it's not so hard to shop for men ... or, to put it another way, women are better shoppers.
If your loved one has an e-reader, the Kindle version is just $2.99. If they don’t have one, don’t be cheap—buy them one. If they already have one, be cheap. Or, you could get the print version for $9.95 at Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/My-Funny-Valen...
I’d advise against getting them the book for the second or third year in a row, though—they’d certainly notice. But in that case you could go to one of the links below and grab one of my romantic comedies for the loving one you love.
Romance, humor, history, even YA--whatever your loved one desires except books about chocolate, because ... hm ... why haven't I written a book about chocolate?
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Remember: Every time you buy a book, a cupid gets his bow. Why anyone thinks it's a good idea for a baby to go around shooting arrows, I don't know.
But probably not.
Because they're men, and when Valentine’s Day is mentioned many will scratch their heads and say, "Are they doing that again this year? Basketball's coming up."
So, here's my suggestion for you guys: Go out right now and order the humor anthology My Funny Valentine in print or, if you're adventurous and your couch is extra comfy, e-book. (I have a few copies on hand.) It's an anthology of humor pieces ... about Valentine's Day. It was really easy to title.
One of the humor pieces is mine, and if I do say so myself, it's the best humor piece about Valentine's Day I've ever had published in an anthology.
Maybe your loved one is allergic to flowers and chocolate, and how sad is that? Buy her a book. Most women who read love books. So do men who read, but it's not so hard to shop for men ... or, to put it another way, women are better shoppers.
If your loved one has an e-reader, the Kindle version is just $2.99. If they don’t have one, don’t be cheap—buy them one. If they already have one, be cheap. Or, you could get the print version for $9.95 at Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/My-Funny-Valen...
I’d advise against getting them the book for the second or third year in a row, though—they’d certainly notice. But in that case you could go to one of the links below and grab one of my romantic comedies for the loving one you love.
Romance, humor, history, even YA--whatever your loved one desires except books about chocolate, because ... hm ... why haven't I written a book about chocolate?
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Remember: Every time you buy a book, a cupid gets his bow. Why anyone thinks it's a good idea for a baby to go around shooting arrows, I don't know.
January 6, 2023
A Sick Sense Of Humor
As mentioned before, I don't usually write about bad stuff unless it can somehow be made funny. Well, funny to me. That's why I haven't said much about Emily and I both being sick through the entire month of December, and now into January.
I mean, it's winter, I'm sick, it's moved into my sinuses--not exactly breaking news. Everybody's sick. People buried for five years have set off local seismographs with their coughing. You may think I'm joking, but remember: Many of those same dead people voted in the last several elections.
I got so sick I was unable to do any writing work for over a week. No editing, no submitting ... a little promoting, but that's the un-fun part, anyway. I started going into withdrawals. I also had to take time off from my full time job, but I had about fifty sick days saved up. In this one case, that's not an exaggeration.
At the rate this winter's been going, I'll be down to zero in no time.
It's led to certain things being said around the house that I'd just as soon not have said:
"I talked to the doctor: She wants us to stop talking to her."
"Why do we still live in a house with one bathroom?"
"Siri, how many cases of Kleenex can fit in a Ford Escape?"
"Dr. Fauci's at the door, he's coming out of retirement just for us."
And my favorite: "My mucus is fluorescent green. Could this be Kryptonite poisoning?"
Hm. It occurs to me that this bug makes us feel exactly like having a hangover, but without any of the fun parts from the night before.
We still don't know what it is, although Emily got a two for one case of croup. She coughed so much that at first our worried dog hovered over her. Now he curls up in the room furthest away. (He was sick half of last year. Now he's fine, except everyone keeps waking up in the wee hours to make ramen and tea.)
They tested us for flu a. through f., Covid, mono, strep, plague, rabies, mad cow disease, and something called M-Pox, which is apparently transmitted by monkeys, but for some reason we can't say so. The CDC set up a tube passage that ran directly from our back door to their tent. "Have you figured out the problem?" I asked the Doc while he was doing a preliminary check of my wallet.
"Yes, you don't pick up the dog poops enough. It'll take hours to clean up our clean room boots."
"No, I mean about what's wrong with us."
"You're trying to earn enough money writing to retire."
"No, I mean medically."
"Oh. Uh, you have an upper respiratory illness."
"Thanks. I figured that out when I started sounding like Elmer Fudd."
"Well ... it's a bad upper respiratory illness."
At that point he prescribed a controlled substance to Emily to quiet her cough, because people who haven't slept for three days have been known to throw kitchen implements at doctors, not that it happened here.
No pharmacy in northeast Indiana had that medicine. Apparently we're not the only people with a cough.
But it's okay, because after a few weeks of insomnia I was able to sleep right through the coughs. As for me, the crap moved--as usual--into my sinuses. Sinus infections are like my old friends, who stop by twice a year to visit for a month. That, I know how to deal with.
Oh, and don't worry: I'm taking care of Emily. Nothing ever goes wrong with anything I'm trying to fix.
You can find our decontaminated books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Remember: Whenever a book doesn't sell, a doctor loses his patience.
I mean, it's winter, I'm sick, it's moved into my sinuses--not exactly breaking news. Everybody's sick. People buried for five years have set off local seismographs with their coughing. You may think I'm joking, but remember: Many of those same dead people voted in the last several elections.
I got so sick I was unable to do any writing work for over a week. No editing, no submitting ... a little promoting, but that's the un-fun part, anyway. I started going into withdrawals. I also had to take time off from my full time job, but I had about fifty sick days saved up. In this one case, that's not an exaggeration.
At the rate this winter's been going, I'll be down to zero in no time.
It's led to certain things being said around the house that I'd just as soon not have said:
"I talked to the doctor: She wants us to stop talking to her."
"Why do we still live in a house with one bathroom?"
"Siri, how many cases of Kleenex can fit in a Ford Escape?"
"Dr. Fauci's at the door, he's coming out of retirement just for us."
And my favorite: "My mucus is fluorescent green. Could this be Kryptonite poisoning?"
Hm. It occurs to me that this bug makes us feel exactly like having a hangover, but without any of the fun parts from the night before.
We still don't know what it is, although Emily got a two for one case of croup. She coughed so much that at first our worried dog hovered over her. Now he curls up in the room furthest away. (He was sick half of last year. Now he's fine, except everyone keeps waking up in the wee hours to make ramen and tea.)
They tested us for flu a. through f., Covid, mono, strep, plague, rabies, mad cow disease, and something called M-Pox, which is apparently transmitted by monkeys, but for some reason we can't say so. The CDC set up a tube passage that ran directly from our back door to their tent. "Have you figured out the problem?" I asked the Doc while he was doing a preliminary check of my wallet.
"Yes, you don't pick up the dog poops enough. It'll take hours to clean up our clean room boots."
"No, I mean about what's wrong with us."
"You're trying to earn enough money writing to retire."
"No, I mean medically."
"Oh. Uh, you have an upper respiratory illness."
"Thanks. I figured that out when I started sounding like Elmer Fudd."
"Well ... it's a bad upper respiratory illness."
At that point he prescribed a controlled substance to Emily to quiet her cough, because people who haven't slept for three days have been known to throw kitchen implements at doctors, not that it happened here.
No pharmacy in northeast Indiana had that medicine. Apparently we're not the only people with a cough.
But it's okay, because after a few weeks of insomnia I was able to sleep right through the coughs. As for me, the crap moved--as usual--into my sinuses. Sinus infections are like my old friends, who stop by twice a year to visit for a month. That, I know how to deal with.
Oh, and don't worry: I'm taking care of Emily. Nothing ever goes wrong with anything I'm trying to fix.
You can find our decontaminated books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Remember: Whenever a book doesn't sell, a doctor loses his patience.
December 31, 2022
2022: After-Incident Report
Let's face it: 2022 sucked.
Don't get me wrong: In no way am I suggesting 2023 will be any better. That's the mistake a lot of people made at the end of 2020 and 2021. Just the same, 2022 seems to have been, overall, the worst year of the 2020s (so far), and that's going some.
I'm sure some people had a great 2022. Arms dealers, for instance. No matter how bad a time period is, there's someone who was happy--as an example, Hitler had an awesome 1939.
On the other hand, Vladamir Putin thought he was going to have an incredible 2022 but, like many of us, he'll hit the New Year shaking his head and saying, "What the heck just happened?"
I don't want to turn this into a Rodney Dangerfield routine. Or maybe I do--Rodney understood the value of comedic complaining. But it wasn't the best year in the world from a personal standpoint. Emily and I have been sick so much the CDC pitched a tent in our back yard. In twenty-five years, I've only had the flu once--this time came a few weeks after our flu shot.
As I write this Emily has lost her voice. At first it was cool, because I walked around the house telling puns and singing Christmas songs loudly. Then she summoned enough strength to start throwing things at me. On a related note, I suffered a head injury this year.
Even the dog kept getting sick. He's 98 in dog years now, and as a result of old age he doesn't know if has to, um, drop a deuce until it's already happening. I mean, you can't get mad at him, and I'm all set for a future career in carpet cleaning.
My knee going bad from early arthritis, that I expected. Getting a case of Trigger Thumb? Did not expect. (What is it? Well, it's like trigger finger, except in the thumb.) I spent most of 2022 in one of two braces.
We also seem to have started our next round of having to replace stuff. The couch broke, and the toilet broke. We could have managed without the couch. Also, the car's now running rough because the service people are unable to remove an old spark plug, which is stuck because radiator fluid is leaking around it.
I had no idea that could happen. It used to be I'd call my brother for help with these things, but, well ... the 2020s suck.
Rodney Dangerfield could have done all this better, but you get the point.
In 2022 the world population reached eight billion, and two out of three got one of the three pandemics that hit this year. The third got trigger thumb.
Inflation hit its highest level since the early 80s, a time I remember as being as bad as ... well, the early 2020s. Come to think of it, so far this winter reminds me of the early 80s. Oh, and get this: Russia's invasion of Ukraine is the biggest European war since WWII. Also, the Queen of England died, after being in that position for so long nobody remembers who she replaced. (I think it was "King Something".) So far as I'm aware, none of these are related.
There's lots of other stuff, but I'll just end with: Monkey Pox.
Rodney would have had a blast with Monkey Pox. "My doctor said I should get vaccinated. I told him I wanted a second opinion, and he said 'Okay: You're ugly, too'."
I miss Rodney. He'd know how to face 2023.
You can find all our books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Don't get me wrong: In no way am I suggesting 2023 will be any better. That's the mistake a lot of people made at the end of 2020 and 2021. Just the same, 2022 seems to have been, overall, the worst year of the 2020s (so far), and that's going some.
I'm sure some people had a great 2022. Arms dealers, for instance. No matter how bad a time period is, there's someone who was happy--as an example, Hitler had an awesome 1939.
On the other hand, Vladamir Putin thought he was going to have an incredible 2022 but, like many of us, he'll hit the New Year shaking his head and saying, "What the heck just happened?"
I don't want to turn this into a Rodney Dangerfield routine. Or maybe I do--Rodney understood the value of comedic complaining. But it wasn't the best year in the world from a personal standpoint. Emily and I have been sick so much the CDC pitched a tent in our back yard. In twenty-five years, I've only had the flu once--this time came a few weeks after our flu shot.
As I write this Emily has lost her voice. At first it was cool, because I walked around the house telling puns and singing Christmas songs loudly. Then she summoned enough strength to start throwing things at me. On a related note, I suffered a head injury this year.
Even the dog kept getting sick. He's 98 in dog years now, and as a result of old age he doesn't know if has to, um, drop a deuce until it's already happening. I mean, you can't get mad at him, and I'm all set for a future career in carpet cleaning.
My knee going bad from early arthritis, that I expected. Getting a case of Trigger Thumb? Did not expect. (What is it? Well, it's like trigger finger, except in the thumb.) I spent most of 2022 in one of two braces.
We also seem to have started our next round of having to replace stuff. The couch broke, and the toilet broke. We could have managed without the couch. Also, the car's now running rough because the service people are unable to remove an old spark plug, which is stuck because radiator fluid is leaking around it.
I had no idea that could happen. It used to be I'd call my brother for help with these things, but, well ... the 2020s suck.
Rodney Dangerfield could have done all this better, but you get the point.
In 2022 the world population reached eight billion, and two out of three got one of the three pandemics that hit this year. The third got trigger thumb.
Inflation hit its highest level since the early 80s, a time I remember as being as bad as ... well, the early 2020s. Come to think of it, so far this winter reminds me of the early 80s. Oh, and get this: Russia's invasion of Ukraine is the biggest European war since WWII. Also, the Queen of England died, after being in that position for so long nobody remembers who she replaced. (I think it was "King Something".) So far as I'm aware, none of these are related.
There's lots of other stuff, but I'll just end with: Monkey Pox.
Rodney would have had a blast with Monkey Pox. "My doctor said I should get vaccinated. I told him I wanted a second opinion, and he said 'Okay: You're ugly, too'."
I miss Rodney. He'd know how to face 2023.
You can find all our books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
December 29, 2022
Time's Almost Up To Get a Free Ebook
It seems I can type between napping, even if I can't talk all that well--long story.
(Actually it's a short story: Viruses and white blood cells are waging an epic battle in my upper respiratory system, like Game of Thrones but with more coughing.)
Before my next dose of NyQuil I wanted to remind everyone that my novel Coming Attractions, as well as two fiction anthologies I have short stories in, remain free on e-book at Smashwords until the end of this year. (And aren't we all eager for this year to be over?)
My Smashwords account is at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/vi..., but there are lots of other free and reduced books there for another, oh, three days. (!)
Pick up a free download on epub, mobi, and pdf formats, or as an original document. After all, we have long weeks of winter coming up, and when your friends want you to go outside you can tell them you're catching up on your reading.
In case I sleep through it: Happy New Year!
As usual, all our books can be found at:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
(Actually it's a short story: Viruses and white blood cells are waging an epic battle in my upper respiratory system, like Game of Thrones but with more coughing.)
Before my next dose of NyQuil I wanted to remind everyone that my novel Coming Attractions, as well as two fiction anthologies I have short stories in, remain free on e-book at Smashwords until the end of this year. (And aren't we all eager for this year to be over?)
My Smashwords account is at https://www.smashwords.com/profile/vi..., but there are lots of other free and reduced books there for another, oh, three days. (!)
Pick up a free download on epub, mobi, and pdf formats, or as an original document. After all, we have long weeks of winter coming up, and when your friends want you to go outside you can tell them you're catching up on your reading.
In case I sleep through it: Happy New Year!
As usual, all our books can be found at:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
December 23, 2022
How Santa Got On the Naughty List
T'was the night before Christmas when I met my partner, Mary Darling, for our Christmas Eve shift in the City of Angels. "Merry Christmas, Darling." The squad room's halls were decked.
"Feliz Navidad," replied Darling, who's been taking Spanish lessons. "Looks like we'll have a white Christmas."
"Maybe it'll be quiet, and we can spend the night at the station, rockin' around the Christmas tree."
But our wonderful Christmas time was interrupted by a radio call. Darling listened to the dispatcher, then turned to me. "Do you hear what I hear?"
"Yeah," I said. "Grandma got run over by a reindeer. Looks like somebody's going to have a blue Christmas."
We took a sleigh ride to Candy Cane Lane, where we found Grandma under the tree, being treated for facial injuries. "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth," was all she'd say, but we had two witnesses: her granddaughter Noel, and Noel's boyfriend, a rap singer who went by Little Drummer Boy.
"It was a burglary," LDB started to say, but Noel wanted to be the first.
"It was Santa, baby," Noel said. "I saw it, too. I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus. When Grandma caught them she chased him, but she hadn't put on her Christmas shoes and he got away."
"So the reindeer didn't run her over?" Darling asked.
"No, she tripped and fell into the holly and the ivy. You can see how her white gown now has greensleeves, and forget the Christmas shoes; she fell so hard her slippers are up on the housetop. Just ask Frosty the Snowman, he was there."
But Frosty had gone home for the holidays, and I began to suspect there was more to this than what could be put into the morning pretty paper. "Noel--Noel? Did you hear anything before the attack?"
"Yeah, I heard someone say "Here comes Santa Claus! Then I heard jingle bells, and I figured Santa Claus was coming to town."
"Did your mom say anything?" Darling asked.
"Just 'Santa, Baby'." Then they saw Grandma come in, and Santa went running out the door. The last thing I heard was him yelling 'Run, Rudolph, Run!' Then I went out and saw Grandma got her jingle bell rocked."
Little Drummer Boy put his arm around Noel. "Let's go in--baby, it's cold outside."
But she shrugged him off. "let it snow. I saw you flirting with our neighbor, Carol, under the silver bells. I heard you offering to bring Joy to the world. You just want to be the man with all the toys."
"No, baby--all I want for Christmas is you."
"Yeah, I bought all that when you gave me silver and gold last Christmas. But it doesn't have to be that way."
I couldn't believe it. Do they know it's Christmas? Well, there wouldn't be any peace on Earth tonight.
I'd walked out into the silent night, to where Grandma had been found in the snowfall. But there were no other footprints in the snow, or sleigh tracks. Santa Claus may be back in town, but he hadn't been here.
But Little Drummer Boy was wearing a red parka. "I don't think you're telling me the whole truth about Santa, baby." Reaching out, I drew the parka hood over his head. "Noel, does this look familiar to you?"
She gasped. "Hey--Santa!"
Under the tree, Noel's mom shoved away from grandma and growled, "Fine, you caught us ... the Little Drummer Boy was giving me a holly jolly Christmas, all right? I didn't want to be all alone for Christmas, and he was on my grown-up Christmas list."
I shook my head. "But don't you see that Santa Claus is watching you?"
"Yeah?" She smirked at me. "Well, he's seen a lot, if he's been watching the last twelve days of Christmas."
"Mom!" Noel gasped. Then she turned around and slugged LDB in the mouth, right under the mistletoe.
"I hear bells," LDB said as he faded out. It would be a silent night for him.
Later, after we filled out the paperwork, I asked Darling, "Mary, did you know?".
"Oh, I knew LDB must be Santa." Darling took a drink of eggnog (non-alcoholic--we were on duty), and added, "He really got his halls decked."
"Yeah, I'll bet he harked the herald angels sing."
It looked like LDB and the mom had something else in common: They wouldn't be home for Christmas. For the rest of us, it's the most wonderful time of the year. But for them?
Well, I figure they got nuttin' for Christmas.
For the rest of the shift we got our one wish--no more Grinches. As for the rest of you: We wish you a merry Christmas!
Don't forget, Coming Attractions remains free on Smashwords for the rest of the year:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/vi...
And as usual, find all our books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
"Feliz Navidad," replied Darling, who's been taking Spanish lessons. "Looks like we'll have a white Christmas."
"Maybe it'll be quiet, and we can spend the night at the station, rockin' around the Christmas tree."
But our wonderful Christmas time was interrupted by a radio call. Darling listened to the dispatcher, then turned to me. "Do you hear what I hear?"
"Yeah," I said. "Grandma got run over by a reindeer. Looks like somebody's going to have a blue Christmas."
We took a sleigh ride to Candy Cane Lane, where we found Grandma under the tree, being treated for facial injuries. "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth," was all she'd say, but we had two witnesses: her granddaughter Noel, and Noel's boyfriend, a rap singer who went by Little Drummer Boy.
"It was a burglary," LDB started to say, but Noel wanted to be the first.
"It was Santa, baby," Noel said. "I saw it, too. I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus. When Grandma caught them she chased him, but she hadn't put on her Christmas shoes and he got away."
"So the reindeer didn't run her over?" Darling asked.
"No, she tripped and fell into the holly and the ivy. You can see how her white gown now has greensleeves, and forget the Christmas shoes; she fell so hard her slippers are up on the housetop. Just ask Frosty the Snowman, he was there."
But Frosty had gone home for the holidays, and I began to suspect there was more to this than what could be put into the morning pretty paper. "Noel--Noel? Did you hear anything before the attack?"
"Yeah, I heard someone say "Here comes Santa Claus! Then I heard jingle bells, and I figured Santa Claus was coming to town."
"Did your mom say anything?" Darling asked.
"Just 'Santa, Baby'." Then they saw Grandma come in, and Santa went running out the door. The last thing I heard was him yelling 'Run, Rudolph, Run!' Then I went out and saw Grandma got her jingle bell rocked."
Little Drummer Boy put his arm around Noel. "Let's go in--baby, it's cold outside."
But she shrugged him off. "let it snow. I saw you flirting with our neighbor, Carol, under the silver bells. I heard you offering to bring Joy to the world. You just want to be the man with all the toys."
"No, baby--all I want for Christmas is you."
"Yeah, I bought all that when you gave me silver and gold last Christmas. But it doesn't have to be that way."
I couldn't believe it. Do they know it's Christmas? Well, there wouldn't be any peace on Earth tonight.
I'd walked out into the silent night, to where Grandma had been found in the snowfall. But there were no other footprints in the snow, or sleigh tracks. Santa Claus may be back in town, but he hadn't been here.
But Little Drummer Boy was wearing a red parka. "I don't think you're telling me the whole truth about Santa, baby." Reaching out, I drew the parka hood over his head. "Noel, does this look familiar to you?"
She gasped. "Hey--Santa!"
Under the tree, Noel's mom shoved away from grandma and growled, "Fine, you caught us ... the Little Drummer Boy was giving me a holly jolly Christmas, all right? I didn't want to be all alone for Christmas, and he was on my grown-up Christmas list."
I shook my head. "But don't you see that Santa Claus is watching you?"
"Yeah?" She smirked at me. "Well, he's seen a lot, if he's been watching the last twelve days of Christmas."
"Mom!" Noel gasped. Then she turned around and slugged LDB in the mouth, right under the mistletoe.
"I hear bells," LDB said as he faded out. It would be a silent night for him.
Later, after we filled out the paperwork, I asked Darling, "Mary, did you know?".
"Oh, I knew LDB must be Santa." Darling took a drink of eggnog (non-alcoholic--we were on duty), and added, "He really got his halls decked."
"Yeah, I'll bet he harked the herald angels sing."
It looked like LDB and the mom had something else in common: They wouldn't be home for Christmas. For the rest of us, it's the most wonderful time of the year. But for them?
Well, I figure they got nuttin' for Christmas.
For the rest of the shift we got our one wish--no more Grinches. As for the rest of you: We wish you a merry Christmas!
Don't forget, Coming Attractions remains free on Smashwords for the rest of the year:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/vi...
And as usual, find all our books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
December 19, 2022
Weather Warnings Bring Out Disaster Deniers
As a group, humans have an amazing ability to screw themselves.
Not literally, mind you. I mean, if we could do that, we'd never leave the house.
Whenever bad weather approaches, I take it upon myself to warn people as much as I'm able, for two reasons: First, it's the decent thing to do. This is a foreign concept for some people, but it's not like it takes a lot of resources to type "Funnel cloud sighted! And by the way, buy my books in the Storm Chaser series."
Okay, so I throw in a commercial here and there: So does The Weather Channel.
The second reason is laziness. I'm a dispatcher, and whenever severe weather hits we're guaranteed to be a lot busier. I don't like being a lot busier. A little busy is just fine, thank you.
So as soon as the experts (I'm not an expert--it turns out the words "meteorology" and "degree" go together) predicted foul weather for the upcoming Christmas weekend, I shouted it from the rooftops.
Okay, well, I shouted it from social media. Nobody really listens on the rooftops, anymore. Besides, it's slippery up there.
Some people appreciate the warning, and I like to think I've saved them some trouble, here and there. But the biggest response weather forecasts get is "Yeah, whatever--they're always wrong".
Which isn't true, but it is true that bad weather is notoriously difficult to predict in detail. Good weather's much easier--go figure.
Which brings us to the second and more common response: "Yeah, it probably won't even flurry." Followed by two parties and twelve beers, because we're talking about people who don't recognize danger signs.
As of this moment, late Monday, forecasters are guaranteeing two things in northern Indiana this weekend: It'll be bitterly cold, and it'll be so windy I'll be bitter. It also appears pretty certain that--surprise!--the whole thing will begin with rain on Thursday.
More rain means less snow. I'm all for that, except for the strong cold front and the whole flash freezing thing. Flash Freezing is not a DC comic villain, people.
Everyone is stressing over snow, and as of now the forecast really is between 2 and 18 inches. It depends on the track of the storm and how far the wind drives lake effect snow, but here's the part people ignore: While we may get the low end of that scale, there's no reason why we shouldn't get the high end. To compare, during the Blizzard of '78 Fort Wayne got about 17 inches of snow. Somebody in the Midwest is going to get that much this weekend. Why not us?
Forget snow amounts, and consider this: There is more than one kind of blizzard. One type often happens after snowstorms, when sustained strong winds blow the fallen snow around, causing drifting and extreme driving hazards.
Snow, followed by cold temps and long-term strong winds?
That's the forecast for this weekend.
So I'm just the messenger, with some reminders:
Four wheel drive is useless on ice. The only good your big truck might do is help compensate for something.
Many emergency vehicles and tow trucks do NOT have four wheel drive, and 4WD might not get through severe drifting, anyway. So if you have to go out, stock your vehicle with whatever you might need to survive for awhile.
Most county and municipal snow plows will not be out 24/7. They have only one shift, and the drivers need rest. If you have to go out stick to main roads, but remember: If it gets bad enough long enough, the Indiana Department of Transportation might have to pull their plows off the road, also.
If your employer requires you to come to work no matter what the road conditions, you need a new employer. Or let them come pick you up, if they think it's not bad. With the exception of essential jobs (like mine, but I can slog down the sidewalk), there's no reason to endanger someone for the sake of a paycheck.
Utility companies also can't come out if the roads are blocked. Make preparations for long-term power outages.
Here's the fun part: Almost everything done to prepare for a snowstorm should be done to prepare for any disaster or weather emergency. Food, water, medicine, warmth, books, not necessarily in that order.
You might think I'm kidding about the books, but if you have kids at home you need to look after your own sanity, and locking them in the garage is not socially acceptable. Remember, whatever they do to pass the time, they'll run out of battery power sooner or later.
Don't forget, Coming Attractions remains free on Smashwords for the rest of the year:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/vi...
And as usual, find all our books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
Not literally, mind you. I mean, if we could do that, we'd never leave the house.
Whenever bad weather approaches, I take it upon myself to warn people as much as I'm able, for two reasons: First, it's the decent thing to do. This is a foreign concept for some people, but it's not like it takes a lot of resources to type "Funnel cloud sighted! And by the way, buy my books in the Storm Chaser series."
Okay, so I throw in a commercial here and there: So does The Weather Channel.
The second reason is laziness. I'm a dispatcher, and whenever severe weather hits we're guaranteed to be a lot busier. I don't like being a lot busier. A little busy is just fine, thank you.
So as soon as the experts (I'm not an expert--it turns out the words "meteorology" and "degree" go together) predicted foul weather for the upcoming Christmas weekend, I shouted it from the rooftops.
Okay, well, I shouted it from social media. Nobody really listens on the rooftops, anymore. Besides, it's slippery up there.
Some people appreciate the warning, and I like to think I've saved them some trouble, here and there. But the biggest response weather forecasts get is "Yeah, whatever--they're always wrong".
Which isn't true, but it is true that bad weather is notoriously difficult to predict in detail. Good weather's much easier--go figure.
Which brings us to the second and more common response: "Yeah, it probably won't even flurry." Followed by two parties and twelve beers, because we're talking about people who don't recognize danger signs.
As of this moment, late Monday, forecasters are guaranteeing two things in northern Indiana this weekend: It'll be bitterly cold, and it'll be so windy I'll be bitter. It also appears pretty certain that--surprise!--the whole thing will begin with rain on Thursday.
More rain means less snow. I'm all for that, except for the strong cold front and the whole flash freezing thing. Flash Freezing is not a DC comic villain, people.
Everyone is stressing over snow, and as of now the forecast really is between 2 and 18 inches. It depends on the track of the storm and how far the wind drives lake effect snow, but here's the part people ignore: While we may get the low end of that scale, there's no reason why we shouldn't get the high end. To compare, during the Blizzard of '78 Fort Wayne got about 17 inches of snow. Somebody in the Midwest is going to get that much this weekend. Why not us?
Forget snow amounts, and consider this: There is more than one kind of blizzard. One type often happens after snowstorms, when sustained strong winds blow the fallen snow around, causing drifting and extreme driving hazards.
Snow, followed by cold temps and long-term strong winds?
That's the forecast for this weekend.
So I'm just the messenger, with some reminders:
Four wheel drive is useless on ice. The only good your big truck might do is help compensate for something.
Many emergency vehicles and tow trucks do NOT have four wheel drive, and 4WD might not get through severe drifting, anyway. So if you have to go out, stock your vehicle with whatever you might need to survive for awhile.
Most county and municipal snow plows will not be out 24/7. They have only one shift, and the drivers need rest. If you have to go out stick to main roads, but remember: If it gets bad enough long enough, the Indiana Department of Transportation might have to pull their plows off the road, also.
If your employer requires you to come to work no matter what the road conditions, you need a new employer. Or let them come pick you up, if they think it's not bad. With the exception of essential jobs (like mine, but I can slog down the sidewalk), there's no reason to endanger someone for the sake of a paycheck.
Utility companies also can't come out if the roads are blocked. Make preparations for long-term power outages.
Here's the fun part: Almost everything done to prepare for a snowstorm should be done to prepare for any disaster or weather emergency. Food, water, medicine, warmth, books, not necessarily in that order.
You might think I'm kidding about the books, but if you have kids at home you need to look after your own sanity, and locking them in the garage is not socially acceptable. Remember, whatever they do to pass the time, they'll run out of battery power sooner or later.
Don't forget, Coming Attractions remains free on Smashwords for the rest of the year:
https://www.smashwords.com/profile/vi...
And as usual, find all our books here:
http://markrhunter.com/
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/&quo... R Hunter"
