Happy New Year 2012 

Grandkids are interesting little critters. They are all different. Some are bright and catch on fast and others take their time in growing up.

We helped to raise our first grandchild, who is now grown and has two daughters of her own. My youngest son is 13 years older than Ashley and had been learning disabled as well as having motor movement problems. His thought ability and movements weren’t as quick as others. He had to try harder with everything in his development. 

So when Ashley came to live with us at the age of two and I watched her motor movements, I was amazed. I don’t think with my older children I paid much attention to things like how they ran, how quickly they rode a bike. I knew they did these things when they were ready.

When we moved to Florida from Ohio I couldn’t find any place where they taught motor movement skills. I knew if I didn’t have Doug continue at the age of eight it would set him back. I was a junior at the University of Central Florida and learned they had classes where the students worked with the children—most were teachers.

 At that time I was president of Seminole County Association of Learning Disabilities. I called UCF to see about enrolling my son into the program, but was told they had a long waiting list. I told them he couldn’t wait and that I was president of the local ACLD program. I didn’t care if I had to push my way through the system by using my presidency. I wanted help for my child—and I got it. Then the chair of that department suggested I take the class and work with a child. He didn’t tell me it was a Master’s class. I got permission to take it and found it interesting enough to write articles for the local newspapers.

Then when Ashley came to live with us I watched her run. I got excited to see her movements were like they should be. She talked at the age of 20 months in sentences, saying to her cousin who was a month younger than her, “Carl, why don’t you talk. Talk, Carl, talk.” A few months later Carl did talk—and he turned out to be a very bright child. I think he enjoyed taking everything in and later adding his words to what he learned around him.

I am still learning about children as each of the nine and 2 great-grandkids keep me fascinated by watching how they grow, how they learn and who has good motor movement skills and who doesn’t.

Take time to watch your children and your grandchildren. They can teach you a lot.

chaos at our house

Christmas 2011

I love the holidays. Seeing the Christmas lights at night makes everything seem so pretty. Until they come down and everything looks bleaker than it did before.

Then comes all the cookies and fudge and all the other goodies we eat at Christmas. I think it was Santa’s idea. He just wants us all to be fat like him. Blah! I gained six pounds munching out.

The children are fun at this time of the year. You tell them Santa is watching them and it shuts them up—temporarily. But then you watch them opening their gifts, one after another after another, and they don’t seem a bit grateful. They throw it aside with that look of “I guess this is okay,” and move on.

Except for five-year-old Autumn. She’d open a gift and say, “I always wanted a watch. Or, “This book is great.” She actually read one whole book immediately upon opening her presents at our house. Yes, I did say she READ the entire book. She knew all the words and numbers and was happy she got several books.

This year we had to be happy seeing Autumn on Christmas Eve. It’s that new thing were parents split and one year one parent has the child on Christmas Eve and the next Christmas Day. Her Aunt Emma was not happy that she didn’t get to see her niece who is six months older than she is on Christmas Day.

Three-year-old Noah was happy as could be with the various trucks he got, while younger brother Sterling played with his toys as well as his brother’s. 

One of our 13-year-old grandsons was happy with his new toy—an IPod! Who wouldn’t like one of those? And the other 13-year-old grandson wasn’t so happy when he got his DSS or whatever that game thing is taken away from him. Why? Because he didn’t wait until Christmas to get into it, just took it and tried to hide it. Santa takes things away when you don’t play by the rules. Guess he has a lesson to learn.

Our 12-year-old grandson is almost always happy. He, like the other two boys, got gift cards so they could shop for themselves.

The older girls are easy to shop for—they like Bath and Body stuff.

Our family has grown immensely over the years. The house was filled with lots of food, lots of laughs, and presents. I am happy to know Christmas is a year away. That gives me plenty of time to shop—again!

Dee and grands

Home Sweet Home chapter 2

Several of you said you'd like to read chapter 2 of Home Sweet Home, so I'm posting it. Please le me know what you think. I'm hoping someone will be interested enough to publish it.

Dee

Chapter 2

Myrtle Sue

Two hours later, Zeus barked and I knew Michelle had arrived. But I wasn’t expecting Justin to be with her. Right now I didn’t like him too much, either. After all, Matt just up and left Michelle and now Justin was moving out.

I opened the door and they came inside looking like two walking zombies with their pale faces and red-rimmed eyes. Maybe these were the dead people my mother-in-law dreamed about.

“Soooo, what’s up?” I asked.

Sammy sniffed Zeus, then went to the kitchen table and hiked his leg.

“Michelle!”

My daughter stood two-inches taller than me. She had natural blond hair that fell below her shoulder blades. Her green eyes and long lashes made me envy her looks. I was never that pretty when I was young. And her figure—she watched what she ate, unlike her mother.

She promptly cleaned up after the dog.

“I’m so sorry about what’s happened, Mrs. Henderson.” I stared at the tall, thin young man, who looked ready to cry—again. He had beautiful blue eyes with long lashes. His thick brown hair fell over his eyes, making me want to brush it back like I had my son when he was little. He wore jeans and a polo shirt—always the fashion plate—always clean—giving him the look of a model.

“Yeah, well, we’re used to Sonny hiking his leg on everything.” I glared at the Yorkie.

“Oh. That’s not what I meant.”

“You mean about you moving out on Michelle, too?” Michelle had so many disappointments when it came to love. I felt angry with myself for not being a better mother in helping her deal with her insecurities. Often, I brushed them off as part of growing up.

Guilt swept over Justin’s face. “I know this isn’t a good time for me to move out. But, can I explain?”

“Of course.” I guided the two to the kitchen table and poured coffee for them, then sat down to listen.
           “I always suspected that I might be gay,” he said.

I choked on my coffee and it oozed out of my nose. Michelle handed me a napkin. “Sorry. Go on.”

          “So I thought for sure moving in and being Michelle’s roommate would make me realize that I was straight. I love Michelle and think of her as one of my best friends. I know she needs a roommate to help pay her mortgage, but then I met Lawrence and he’s so like the most perfect person in the world and then I just had to tell Michelle about it because I couldn’t be unfair to her because I actually do love her and…”

I raised my hand. I was out of breath just listening to him rattle. I wanted to yell, TMI—too much information! Instead, I decided to play the mother role—against my better judgment. I got up and brought the muffins and two cups of coffee to the table. Then I poured more coffee for me, too. I had a feeling I would need it—with perhaps a shot of something stronger in it. I always thought Justin was a bit feminine, but forgive me for my ignorance, I didn’t think he was gay.

“Thank you, Mrs. Henderson.” Justin gave me one of his deer in the headlight looks.

Michelle reached over and squeezed his hand. “Mom, this has been hard on Justin. He needs a mother to talk to and since he can’t confide in his, I told him you’d be happy to listen to him.”

Once more, I nearly choked on my coffee. Where was that bottle of bourbon Sam had hidden?

Michelle had always been kind and caring. Her eyes filled with sympathy for her friend.

“Now, let’s talk,” I said. “First off, Justin, I’m confused. Why do you both look like zombies? I mean, I know Michelle and Matt just broke up, but why do you look as if you’ve been crying, too?”

“Because, well, because, you see, my mother is going to be so pissed at me. I don’t know how to break the news to her. You know my mom’s a religious fanatic and she pulled me out of school when she heard I was hanging out with the gay crowd. Then she home schooled me. But then when she found out I was still hanging out with them at the Mall, she had me locked up.”

“She did what? But why?”

“Because she said I was sick in the head.” He took a bite of the muffin before going on. “Mother had a fit when they said they weren’t going to keep me and treat me for a mental illness. So then, to please her, I stopped hanging out with guys and started to date women.”

“And then his mom said he was cured,” Michelle said. “And Justin thought he was, too.” She hugged him and I thought he was going to cry again. Then he straightened up in the chair and had a guilty look on his face.

“I knew I was still gay, but when I moved into Michelle’s house, I let my mom think Michelle was my girlfriend.”

“Didn’t she think it was strange that Michelle had another boyfriend?” Sometimes I simply blurted out things that I didn’t mean to say. “I mean, Matt was at the house a lot.”

“I just told her he was a good friend of mine and Michelle’s,” he said.

“Oh, Justin, I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I’m sure your mom will come to terms with this.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Henderson.” He picked up his coffee cup and held it away from his boyish face. “You don’t hate me, do you?”

“Of course not, Dear.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Not to change the subject, but will you still come sit with Nana until I can get her into a home?”

“Of course I will! I love that woman.” He smiled for the first time since he arrived. At least I could say one thing for Hazel, she really did like Justin and never found fault with him.

Michelle’s eyes widened and she grinned at me.I thanked God that Justin was blind to Hazel’s faults.

“Thank you, Justin. You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” And I really meant it.

 “Who’s here?” Hazel got out of her chair in front of the TV and came into the kitchen. “Oh my goodness! It’s my son Harold! How are you, Honey?” She walked to Justin and kissed his cheek. “And why don’t you ever visit your mommy, you bad boy?”

“Hazel, Harold’s been dead for twenty years,” I said. “This is Justin, Michelle’s friend from the hospital. Remember? He’s a nurse, too, and he sits with you while I work.” And I should’ve added that whatever we had to pay him was worth every penny. He really was good with her.

“Oh, yes, Justin, dear.” She turned to me. “I don’t know why you can’t be kind like Justin, Myrtle Sue. You’ve always been so mean to me.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Hi, Nana. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She took a seat at the table and grabbed a muffin. “Who are you? Are you Violet’s daughter?”

“Nana! I’m Michelle, your granddaughter. Myrtle Sue and Sam’s daughter.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right.” She laughed and pointed to her head. “You know how it is when you get old. Your mother will be just like me when she gets old.”

“God forbid,” I mumbled.

“I hope you made some roast beef for Father when he gets here,” Hazel said.

“Yes, of course, and I made garlic rolls, too,” I lied. Then I whispered, “Michelle, want some garlic to tie around your neck?”

“Mom!”

“Good. And remember, he likes carrots and noodles with his roast beef,” Hazel said.

Justin stood up and smiled. “Well, I’ve got to go now. I’ll see you on Monday, Nana.”

“Okay, Honey.” She reached into her pocket and said, “Here’s a dollar. Get yourself something to eat. You’re rather skinny, you know.”

“Thanks,” he said, kissing her cheek.

I walked him to the door and he handed me back the money. “I’ve tried giving her the money back, but she gets mad at me. You take it.”

“No, that’s okay, Justin. Good luck with your new friend,” I said.

Justin couldn’t have been gone more than five minutes when Sammy Jr. came into the house. “What’s to eat, Ma?”

“Muffins,” I said. Sammy wasn’t pretty like Justin. Instead, he had a rugged look—more like a cowboy. He, too, had those fabulous blue eyes, but not the long lashes. His nose showed signs of his youthful fist fights, and his dimples added to his charm. I can’t tell you how many girls called the house for him when he was a teen. And yet at the age of 23, he still hadn’t found a special woman to love.

“Don’t you have any real food?”

“I’ll have real food once you start paying me back the $4,000 you owe me for the down payment on your truck,” I said.

He pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to me. “How about I pay you ten dollars a week for now.”

“That’s a start. I’ll take it.” I knew by the look in his eyes that he’d expected me to say no, just wait until you can afford to pay it back. That’s what his father would’ve said. I’m not his father, and it’s time he grew up.

It was after four when Michelle and Sammy decided to go home and not stay for dinner. After listening to Michelle and Sammy bicker, I was happy to see them both decide to go home. Hazel sat glued to the TV while I made out bills.

When I finished, I found Hazel snoring loudly. I woke her and fed her dinner. Two hours later, I put her to bed.

Peace and quiet at last. I plopped into my chair in front of the TV.

“Where’s my pills?” Hazel’s piercing voice made me nearly jump out of my chair.

“I already gave them to you.”

“No, you didn’t give them to me! Steve gives me my pills, not you, you idiot!”

 “Steve’s dead. Steve used to give you pills.” I tried to remain calm.

“Well, I didn’t kill him. Bessie said I probably did, but I didn’t. And Mary thinks he’s in love with her. Imagine that! He’s twenty years younger than she is. If he’d be in love with anyone, it would be me.”

“Goodnight, Hazel.” She continued yelling and telling me how stupid I was.

I went into the kitchen to finish cleaning the pan I left soaking, hoping to block out Hazel’s voice. I swore I saw Sam smiling at me in the pan I picked up.

“I hate you Sam! You left me with your mother on purpose.” I threw the pan across the floor and then stopped.

“Oh, my God! I’m cracking up.” I picked up the pan, finished cleaning it, and put it into the cupboard. “Take a deep breath, Myrtle Sue. Tomorrow will be better.”

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year! My how the days fly by fast.

Hurricane Emma turned 4 years old on December 18. Sophie, her niece, was born on December 20. How's that to mess up Christmas? Both girls will be getting all their stuff at one time and then nothing the rest of the year!

Anyhow, Sophie is fine. She was breach and Ashley had to have emergency C-section.
I got Emma a cute dress for her birthday, long sleeves, little necklace attached. On Christmas Day she wanted to wear it. Autumn had her cute dress and cowboy boots on and was proud of her cute little self and didn't want to get dirty. The kids went outside and were jumping off the deck into the sand. Larry has slowly been disassembling the deck since we sold the pool to our neighbor. But his shoulder is giving fits and it isn't done yet.

That's when I realized I should've bought Emma bib overalls and a flannel shirt. Emma jumped off the deck and rolled around in the sand. Her cute little necklace was ripped off her dress--she said her older brother did it, but who knows.

Autumn is out on the deck talking about her pretty dress and her new boots and how she didn't want to get dirty. Both girls are 4 years old. So she steps on a board at the end of the deck and like an old movie, the board comes up and hits her and knocks her into the sand. She cried, so worried about ruining her dress. And then she said, "It's all Emma's fault! She cut off those screws and made me fall."

Including the kids we had 25 here. That week I cooked and baked and cleaned and baked and was happy when things were back to normal--or as normal as anything in our household can be.

Noah is two years old now. We have an old metal yellow school bus that I bought 11 years ago for Carson to play with. Noah loves that beat up old toy. The week after Christmas and even on Christmas Day with all the trucks he got he still wanted the bus. He lost it and we looked everywhere for it. Where he found it we don't know! Somewhere where he hid it, I guess!

Sterling is army crawling and except when he has a tummy ache, he's a good baby. 

The boys are all hooked on those game things. Give them money and that and they are happy.

The older girls and grown girls in the family got stuff from Bath and Body so they should all smell really good!

Shelby and her boyfriend, Josh, spent the afternoon here. They stuffed the teddy bears Autumn and Emma got from someone. The kids all had a good time. The adults all ate and ate and took a lot of the fattening desserts home for which I was glad.


Now it's back to work and back to writing. Home Sweet Home is finished with the exception of getting the recipes in the right spots of the family gatherings. I'll post another chapter of HSH next week. Please let me know what you think of the story-well unless you really hate it!


Dee

First Chapter of Home Sweet Home

Chapter I

Deland, FL

“Myrtle Sue? Come here. Now!”

I jumped out of a sound sleep. My mother-in-law from hell, her voice as piercing as a jackhammer, yelled my name from down the hallway. I glanced around the small room with the cheerful yellow walls, and wished I could stay in bed just a bit longer. I glanced at the clock. Six a.m. Figures. Last time I got to sleep in was…never, come to think of it.

“Myrtle Sue!”

What was it now? Her toenails needed clipped? She wanted me to dial 1-800-psychic? Her TV fell off the dresser?

“Better see what she wants.” I eyed my white schnauzer with the bad haircut that made him look like a dirty old mop lying at the bottom of my king-sized waterbed. That’s what you get when you take your dog to a discount hair joint.

“Myrtle Sue!”

If I didn’t get going she was going to scare all the dogs in the neighborhood, or have a coronary. She’d been threatening to have one for the past 15 years. I should only live in hope.

“Myrtle…”

“I’m coming!”

I walked into the room to see my mother-in-law sitting on the edge of the bed. A pretty woman, slim and white-haired, Hazel had a flawless complexion with very few wrinkles. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at these walls. I hate lavender. I want this room painted something else, like a light blue.”

“You woke me up to tell me that?”

“Well, no, I had a dream,” she said softly. “I needed you to come in here and sit with me.”

“What? Did you dream the devil came to take you off?” This woman had weird dreams at least five days out of seven. Some were funny, others made her sound like a lunatic. Well, actually she is sort of loony.

“Myrtle Sue! That isn’t funny. You know I’m sixty years old and who knows how long I have.”

“Got news for you, Hazel, you’re eighty-years old.” Then I recalled my mama preaching to me that I had to respect my elders. But when she was alive, even she lost patience with my dead husband’s mother. “So, what did you dream?”

She smiled. “My father was here, you know. I saw him walking around. He said his sisters are coming to visit us. You must get the house straightened out and do some baking. We can’t have guests and not be prepared. So that’s why I wanted you to get up early. Get your shower and get busy.”

“You got me up to tell me that? What? You think I’m your servant or something?”

Then she lay down on her bed and promptly went back to sleep, pulling her flowered quilt over her. She looked so sweet lying there. But sweetness she wasn’t. More like an old cactus waiting to rip into your new pair of pantyhose.

I looked at the older woman and wondered why she still had so much affection for her father. She often said that he made her childhood a living hell. From what I’d been told, Hazel’s father had been an alcoholic who often beat her siblings, her mother and her when he tied one on. Yet, she spoke of his kindness when he was sober. Sam, my deceased husband, always said the old man was as mean as a snake. It seems the prickles of the cactus ran through both father and daughter’s veins.

Zeus and I walked into the hallway and I glanced down at him. “So what should I make that dead people will want to eat? How about some invisible food.”

The dog whined and jumped around doing his doggie talk. “Shhh. Nana is sleeping,” I said. “Come on, I’ll put you out.”

On my way through the family room, I glanced at the unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. Hazel insisted I should unpack her collection of one-hundred-and-sixty-two ceramic elephants and find a place to put them in my already overcrowded living and family rooms. But hey, if she was headed to an assisted living facility, why should I bother?

Come along Monday, I was calling DCF again and telling them they had to finish Hazel’s paperwork so I could get her out of my house. Twice I filled them out. Both times they said they didn’t get them.

One more week of living with this woman and I’d be in the loony bin. The more I thought about it, I realized at least that would be a vacation from Hazel.

I glanced at Sam’s photo sporting a new layer of dust, his trust-me grin hiding the fact that the man never did anything that could be put off until the next year or two. Like arranging for his mother’s care. Nope, Sam figured some other schmuck would take care of the messy details. And he was right. I picked up the picture and slammed it down—a bit hard. Glass tinkled. Another frame to buy. Another errand to run between work and running Hazel to her doctor visits. Another day to spend picking up the pieces. On the other hand, I wouldn’t have to dust Sam until I replaced yet another frame.

My gaze drifted to the fireplace where our family photo, taken two years ago, sat. Staring at me with that big grin on his face was my prankster husband with the warped sense of humor. Did he make those papers disappear thinking it funny to stick me with yet one more problem to handle?

During the week, I work at the high school cafeteria as a cook. When Sam died, I discovered I needed extra money to pay for his hospital and doctor bills since he opted to take the cheaper insurance policy that had limited coverage.

Cooking is about all I know how to do—that and be a maid to my husband and children. Before Hazel moved in, I had planned on saving part of my money to take that vacation my husband of twenty-seven years had promised to take me on. What a joke. Now I’d probably never get to Croatia to see the land of my ancestors. I’d even settle for a short cruise, or any type of vacation. Sam and I never took a vacation in our entire married life.

Two hours later, I had my mother-in-law fed and watching TV. I showered, knowing she’d have forgotten all about our dead company. But I decided to bake some chocolate cupcakes and banana nut muffins in case one of the kids stopped by. I got the house all straightened out and was about to sit down and pay the bills when the phone rang.

“Lo?”

“Mother! Can’t you ever say Hello?”

My second child, Michelle, hated the way I answered the phone. “Hi, Florence Nightingale. What’s up?”

“I thought I’d stop by today and check on Nana if that’s okay.”

“Sure thing, Sugar. You can stop by and check on her anytime you want. In fact, have you ever considered having her come live with you? That would be one way of getting rid of your latest boyfriend, you know.” I grinned, knowing that Michelle actually wanted to keep this one. After four engagements and no wedding, she thought the fifth engagement just may be the one. For her sake, I hoped she was right.

There was dead silence on the phone. “Michelle? Are you there?”

“Yes.” I heard a whimper.

“What’s wrong, Honey? I was only teasing about Nana.”

“Matt left me for my friend, Lori,” she said. “I thought for sure he was Mr. Perfect.”

“Oh, Honey! I’m so sorry. I know how much you wanted this to work out for you two.”

“I really love him, Mommy.”

At that moment, I wanted to wring Matt’s neck. How could he hurt my baby girl after all she did for him? She cooked, cleaned, loaned him money and even washed his truck for him. And I never thought he was good enough for her.

Like a flash of lightning had just struck me, I had an ah-ha moment. I had set a terrible example for my girls. I had waited on their father in the same way they waited on the men in their lives. And just like their father, their men didn’t appreciate them anymore than he had me.

I thought about Michelle’s roommate, Justin. Maybe they could get together. I really liked him—more than I liked Matt. He had a sensitive side to him and often told Michelle that Matt wasn’t good enough for her. That boy knew what he was talking about.

“What about Justin? Actually, I like him,” I said. “Maybe you two could get together. I mean, he’s awfully kind and you two seem to have a lot of fun together.”

“Justin is a wonderful friend, but he’s moving out this week. It’s bad enough Matt is out of my life, but now I have to find a new roommate, too.”

“Oh? I’m sorry to hear that. Will he still help out with your grandmother?” Justin sat with my mother-in-law four hours a day while I worked my six-hour shift at the high school.

“I don’t know. He’s moving in with one of the guys from work. I don’t know what his plans are beyond that.”

“Well, I’m sure you can find a new roommate at the hospital. Someone’s always needing a place to live,” I said. “So what about Mr. Perfect? What happened?”

“Well, he is Mr. Perfect for Lori.” She sniffed and I heard her blow her nose.

“Oh my. Nothing like a traitor boyfriend and friend, is there?”

Then she wailed like she did when she was a little girl and her brother would take her dolls from her.

“Michelle, take a deep breath. And don’t drive until you calm down. Then I’ll have some nice comfort food waiting for you.” I looked at my body. Yeah, comfort food is what got me in this condition. If I didn’t watch it, I’d be as big as Sam had been.

“Okay, Sammy and I will be there in an hour or so.” Her voice shook and I knew she tried holding back her sobs.

“Please tell me he doesn’t hike his leg on furniture anymore?” But the phone disconnected before she answered.

Myrtle Sue's family

Hello,
Today I'd like to talk about my novel Home Sweet Home. I really want to change the title, maybe to something like Gammy's teapot, or White lights and Gammy's teapot--maybe too long.

My story is a woman's fiction. It is about Myrtle Sue Henderson who is widowed. Her mother-in-law gets kicked out of the senior's home. Her daughter, Presley, is in an abusive relationship with her alcoholic husband. Daughter Michelle isn't married and learns she's pregnant. Son Sammy still owes Myrtle Sue for his well, but is having too much fun partying to pay her back.

Myrtle Sue realizes she's to blame for her children't behavior. She allowed her husband to rule her just like her daughters allow the men in their life to rule them.


When Myrtle Sue meets Michael, she realizes she's ready to have a relationship with a man. But she can't expect any man to put up with her crazy family.


Daughter Presley and two children move in with Myrtle Sue. MIL from hell also lives with her. Daughter Michelle thinks her mother should quit work and babysit for her unborn baby.


Myrtle Sue inherited teapots from her great-grandmother, grandmother and mother. They always used two teapots that were given to them. They put the names of folks they thought needed a good dose of comeuppance in one pot. The other pot is for those who need help--or good vibes sent their way.

I'd like to post a few pages here maybe tomorrow.

Hope everyone is having a good day.

Dee

Family Time

Our family keeps growing--and growing. We are about to have baby #11. How did folks keep up with all those kids in the old days? No wonder my grandmother Hendershot--at child #10-didn't name him for a year. She must've been so hassled by keeping up with those kids she simply couldn't think of adding another name. They called him Baby the first year. Then they finally settled on Lester. He was called Casey.

Back to our family. We had a get-together on Friday night. Michelle and her son were here from Sarasota. Diana and two of her kids arrived. Chris and Sandra and their four, along with Chris' oldest daughter, Ashley, and her daugher and fiance were here, too. The kids enjoyed the pool. There was plenty of food and good to chat with everyone.

Autumn saw the picture on the wall from her birthday party and wanted to know how I got it. I said I took the picture. She said, "Were you there?" Then she said to her Pappaw, "You didn't come to my birthday party." He told her yes, in fact, he was at both of her parties.

The Hurricane and Holden went home with their Aunt Michelle for a week, giving their mom almost a break. She still has the Clinger and the Bakery.

Don't ask!

Another Day in Paradise

Here is it, Sunday already. Before I know it I'll be back at work.

I did get my first three chapters from Home Sweet Home to the agent, and I've worked on the first five chapters of Home at Last (Yep, I need new titles) to send to the editor. But first, I have to work on the synopsis.

I attended  Romance Writers of America National Conference last week It was held at the Dolphin at Disney this year. Only problem--the place is so huge and I walked until I thought my legs would fall off!

The PRO retreat was great. Donald Maas was one of the speakers, and he is really good and keeps you entertained, along with giving good advice about writing. He says to write good women's fiction you need to be pissed off about something--anything--but let it out. Hmm. I think I can do that.

The agent I met was nice and easy to talk to. I worried about the editor, but I liked her. She, too, was easy to speak with.

My one regret is I didn't attend more workshops. Why? Because I had to walk and walk and by the time I found it I missed it!

Happy Writing everyone!

More on Obitch Queen

While working on my manuscript, I've had to do some research--and am still researching  of Obitch Queen. I talked to a man in the sheriff's department about human trafficking in selling babies. My friend called him first--she's in law enforcement--to make sure he didn't think I was some weirdo.


So when he called me in a week I told him we thought perhaps he was investigating me to see if I really was a weirdo. He laughed and answered my questions.

I kept a journal while working at the newspaper. It's funny, I forgot a lot of things that happened when I worked there. Like when our editor quit and we had this obnoxious man who wrote headlines like Downtown Libia bombed. Our publisher gushed about how good this guy was, then called the editorial staff into his small smoked-filled office to tell us we should watch for things like that.

We told him how Mr. Hotshot refused to listen to us when we told him something was wrong.

BTW--Mr. Hotshot advertised in another paper for women. OK so the rest of us had a good laugh. This man wore a dalmatian tie with lots of food stains on it, smelled like vomit most days and had hair that looked like he'd just stuck his finger into a light socket.


 Mr. Hotshot wanted one of the reporters to spy on the firemen. "How else can we find out what they're doing?"

And then I read how we ate at Red's, a local bar with good food--and drinks.

I happily forgot about the guy at the place where I got my weather reports asking me several times to go to his cabin with him, yeah, right. And then wanting me to write a story about how he worked with abused women. So what would I write? That he probably took advantage of those said women?

But there were many fun times. I had three morticians show up one day to bring me gifts. Okay, so they really wanted to check me out. I just hoped they hadn't come with a tape measure to check me out for a coffin. They brought me a wad of pencils because I had to write so much (Yep, in those days we still did some things by hand), a candle holder like they put on top of coffins and a picture frame for my granddaughter's picture. They were nice guys and fun to talk to.

Since I also did the farm news, the other reporters would say okay, what do I really want to know about pigs now?

More later. It's time to go to bed.

I'm back!

I am a sorry blogger, but I'm going to try to get better.

Since I last was on here, I became a grandmother--again! Sterling makes grandbaby number 10. Pretty soon I'll be yelling, Hurricane, Angel, Noah, whoever you are, come here!

Meanwhile, I'm trying to get back into the grove of writing on a regular basis. My latest work in progress is titled, Obitch Queen. Where did that come from? At one time I worked at a small newspaper in Ohio. One of my jobs was to take the obituaries. When you work at a small paper you do everything, from writing the news to layout. Okay, so things today are probably different, but back in the old days...

I learned morticians are funny. I thought they were serious. I learned more than I wanted to know at times. Well, okay, that's not true. I used to ask a lot of questions. They liked talking to me because when they called other newspapers they would hear the reporters say, "You take it! I don't want to talk to them."

They don't know what they missed. One guy would make up stories about the deceased when we talked. Or he would tell me funny things that happened to him on the job. Like what? Like people who called the funeral homes and asked for teeth. No kidding. They really did. They said the dead folks didn't need the teeth and would be upset to learn they couldn't have them. Now tell me how gross that is?

My novel has a lot of things in it from my reporter days--I kept journals.

Till next time--CU!
Dee
Obitch Queen

Stories

I'm a finalist for another Chicken Soup Story. It's about my cousins and me having to wear clothing from chicken feed bags. I hope it sells--won't know until September.

If I can figure out how to attach this book trailer I juat received I'll post it. I've never done this before.

We have another grandson, Sterling Connor. He's the brother of Hurricane Emma and Noah and Holden.

We had the Hurricane for three days. She got ticked at her Pappaw because he told her she was spoiled. And she got ticked because she was told to apologize to Maggie, our dog, for doing something to make her yelp. Of course, she said she didn't do anything. I caught her taking Icarus's mouth and make it open and close like a puppet's, she got on the floor face to face and growled at Zeus and he snapped at her.

Noah got his first haircut here the other day. It's still longish. I'll try to post picks here.

Dee

My story in Chicken Soup for the Soul, All in the family

The local newspaper interviewed me about the story I wrote. Here's a link to read it.

Dee

http://www.beacononlinenews.com/news/daily/2236

I've survived another decade!

How is it that life goes by so fast? One day you're a kid playing with your toys. Then you're a miserable teenager who can't wait to turn 18.

Suddenly you are married with children and pets--and you can't afford to go to the hair dresser often--wear frightful ugly glasses with poofy hair. But alas. A new decade arrives and new fashions.

Bell bottom pants, fluffy pleated tops and large hair.
Whoa! Made it through that phase.

Suddenly, you are the mother of snarly teens and your house is filled with other teens, because you are the cool parents. How did that happen? Could it be the other parents opted to ship the kids off--to your house?

In a flash, you become grandparents. You know you can't possibly be old enough to have grandkids, for heaven's sake. But there it is, this little girl with the blond curls and big blue eyes looking up at you and calling you Gammy.

More grands come along. Serious ones, funny ones, and the Hurricane ones. Like Hurricane Emma. She helps herself to a pudding in the fridge and decides to take a beer with it. She's two-and-a-half years old. Of course he isn't allowed to have the beer but says, "Well, someone might want one."

And her more serious niece, Autumn, who actually picks up her toys and puts them back where they belong.

About the time Emma outgrows terrorizing our dogs, Maggie, Zeus and Icarus, along come Noah with the strong hands. We hear a blood curing yell from one of the dogs who Noah has grabbed by the head--ya know, like he picks up his stuffed toys? And they snap at him. He stares at his hand and open and closes it, like he's trying to figure out why the dog was upset with this strong hand that was only trying to pick the doggie up. By his ears.

I am happy to say that the three older boys who are 10 and 11 years old were actually good this year. No jumping on the furniture, no throwing things at each other in the yard. Why? Because they got those hand-held games and were engrossed in them. And they got marshmellow shooters which they took into the yard and shot.

So now, I must make resolutions for the coming decade. What will I do? Will I ever have that book published? Will I be the Grandma Moses of the writers? Will I continue to do temp work at the college so I'll have good excused not to babysit the wee ones?

And how will my book trailer turn out for the Obitch Queen?

Hope you have a great New Year.
dee

Chicken Soup for the Sole/All in the Family

I have a story in this edition of CS--under the pen name of Nori Thomas. It's called My Beloved Crazy Relatives.
I do hope you will buy a copy and let me know what you think of my short story.
Nori



Chicken Soup for the Soul: All in the Family

101 Stories about the Fine Line between Comedy and Tragedy in Our “Dysfunctional” Families

Almost everyone thinks their own family is “dysfunctional” or at least has a dysfunctional member or two. These stories of wacky yet lovable relatives, holiday meltdowns, and funny foibles, along with more serious stories about abuse, controlling family members, and flare-ups, show readers that they aren’t alone. All in the Family is a quirky and fun holiday book, and a great bridal shower or wedding gift! Norman Rockwell’s famous “Freedom from Want” Thanksgiving family painting appears on the back cover and is lovingly parodied on the front, driving home the point that all our families, no matter how much we love them, are just a little dysfunctional!
On Sale Date: 10/20/09
Pre-Order

Here's hoping I get published

I have my time travel at Wild Rose Press. The editor has asked to see the entire manuscrpt--she liked the first three chapters.

The Magical Amulet starts out in Galion, OH at the Galion Inquirer Newspaper. The reporter goes to the Big Four Depot and a train comes along and takes her back to 1898 and drops her on the new tracks in Globe, AZ.

My heroine is creative, but not neat at the office. My hero is a neat freak.

I think it'll be a fun read and hope people will enjoy reading it.

Dee