Wednesday, November 15, 2017

Half Price Books and ...

Okay folks, check out Linda's blog for an upcoming event... 
And yes, I'll be a part of it!  

Click here to get all the nitty-gritty details.

Okay, I'm being lazy. Linda said it so well that I figured I might as well send you over to her site. She's prolific!

Monday, September 25, 2017

Upcoming Events

Wanted to let everyone know who may read this... uh, if anyone does since I'm not a consistent blogger these days... I am writing though, fyi..

October 6th

You can see my blog post from last year's Sculpture on Campus that Jessica created.

I had the privilege of working with Jessica one day for her new sculpture (she again was selected for Sculpture on Campus) and although I'm her mother, it's quite impressive.

I'm looking forward to the event.

October 14th

I'll be among other local authors for a book signing/book purchasing bonanza - and although this isn't MY book, my story is published in Chicken Soup for the Soul - Merry Christmas! Uh, not the most current edition of Chicken Soup's Christmas books, but it's all I got. I thought it'd be fun to just hang around with other authors--those who have inspired and encouraged me to give it a whirl to enter into Chicken Soup. If you haven't received or purchased a copy, stop on by as there are lots of authors at this event. LOCAL authors, with their own books or current Chicken Soup or other anthology books.

So the above two events are for those in and around the St. Louis, Missouri area. Specifically, Sculpture on Campus is in Edwardsville, Illinois and Indie Author Day is in St. Charles, Missouri.

Now if you are in the Minneapolis, Minnesota area, you might want to check out the ECKANKAR Worldwide Seminar held the weekend of October 20-22 How to Become the Awakened Soul. Folks from all over the world gather with like-minded spiritual individuals. You'll see me there!

Check back in November... for more events.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Write, right?

During contemplation, something I do daily, this sentence popped in – “A writer isn’t always right, but will always write.”

And thus began this blogpost.

My husband and I have a joke between us. Over the years, if we have a different answer or opinion about something, the conversation can go something like:
         Me: “I think it’s blue.”
         Husband: “No, it’s red.”
         Me:  “I’m pretty sure it’s blue.”
         Husband:  “Red.”

Then when we find out the answer, it turns out, I’m right. The first few times, it seemed like I was just lucky. But 99.9% of the time, he ends up saying, “You’re right… again.” I can't help it. I seriously don’t care if I’m right or not. I state my answer. He states his. When he finds out I’m right and tells me, I now say, “And you doubted me?” We laugh. Okay, maybe he doesn’t laugh.

Now back to writing… I’m a member of St. LouisWriters Guild, Missouri Writers' Guild, and Columbia Chapter of the Missouri Writers' Guild. I’m not active in any at the moment. I was quite active in St. Louis Writers Guild when I first joined. So much so, I think I burned myself out. I did the e-newsletter, Here’s News! And I fretted and worried and stressed about it so much, I’m surprised I didn’t create an ulcer or have a heart attack. I’m not sure anyone realized how much work I put into this… collecting info, putting it in its proper place, checking and rechecking on formatting, spelling, etc., editing and revising and on and on. And then if Here’s News! went out and I found a typo or there was some info that was overlooked, I beat myself up like__________ well, I have nothing to compare it to. Trust me, I was awful to myself. One time some other organization chewed me out about something - maybe it was my fault, but it wasn’t something worthy of being chewed out for… I mean, I was a volunteer, and Here’s News! is free advertising, and I was doing the best I could. It ended up not being worth my time and effort and what I was putting myself through. Simply put: I cared too much. But no one knew that. It’s all on me though. I take full responsibility for all aspects of all I do. By the way, if you're a writer or interested in writing, you can sign up for Here's News! that gives you lots of info about writing in the St. Louis, MO area.

I'm not sure why it popped in my head – A writer isn’t always right, but will always write – as it doesn’t seem to be the case with this blog, but I do write daily. Just ask my cats.

Kitty not feeling it with the hat

Smeagol snoozing

Oh, and if you have time, check out this site. 

I wrote something based on a true experience of mine (look for LynnO) and you can also find my writing pal, Linda O on the site too!

My daughter Rita and me (she's the baby in the story)

Monday, May 1, 2017


I was sitting in my writing chair journaling when I heard Ka-Boom. I nearly stood up from the loud noise. Something hit the picture window next to where I was seated. Ah, yes, another poor bird.

Sure enough, I looked down and on the ground is a bird, flapping away... first on his side, then his back, flap, flap, flap. I watched and moaned in horror. "Oh you poor thing." I didn't want to swing open the door and scare it because it already had received a blow far greater. I wondered, what can I do? As it flapped, flapped some more, I grabbed my phone to snag a picture, and by the time I did, it had righted itself and lay in this position.

I quietly opened the door and sang HU. When all else fails and I know not what to do, I sing HU. The bird turned its head and I continued to sing HU.

Then my cat, Smeagol approached the door and off the bird flew lickety-split. It flew to a near by redbud tree where there was another bird of the same species. I had no idea what kind it was.

Later my husband solved the species issue. It's a Belted Kingfisher. Never heard of it. They like water. Since we have a pond out back, I'm sure that little pointy beak on his noise can stab fish just like that. Looks like we may have another kind of critter that eats our fish.

Monday, April 24, 2017

Boil Maker

So last post, I talked about the dreaded boil that I had as a kid—sparked by Alan Arkin referring to writers as having a boil that has to be taken care of… that’s why they write. Paraphrasing, but not very well.

And the boil squeeze that my mom did to me every morning for what seemed like the entire school year, reminded me of another time. As an adult.

I noticed this black dot on my breast. It grew. It concerned me since my mom died of breast cancer, and it had been drummed into my head to watch out for things on my skin that change color or size… or lumps that pop up. So I headed to a dermatologist.

The doctor was a man, probably younger than I was, and this made it even more uncomfortable bare-breasted, pointing to the black dot, telling him my concern. On his wheeled stool, he came in closer, stood up, took his two thumbs, just like my mother did way back when she got in position to squeeze the boil—and he squeezed the black dot. It all happened so quickly, I didn’t have time to scream, “STOP! What are you doing?” I was petrified that he was going to make my cancerous growth worse. A squiggly white line popped out where the black dot had been. He wiped it away, shrugged, and said, “Just a black head.”

I could feel my face turning 100 shades of red. I stared at my bare breast that no longer had a black spot on it… stupefied… mortified and relieved at the same time.

The doctor went on to explain that sometimes pores fill up with oil, dirt, etc.  What? Did he think I didn’t bathe? “If it happens again, you can just squeeze it yourself.” He left the room. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. I got dressed lightning fast and scurried out of the building. I’ve never been back to him… found a woman doctor instead.

I keep telling myself, better safe than sorry.

Boils. Blackheads. But still blessed.

Monday, April 17, 2017

Turner Classic Movies and Boils

The other day (okay, maybe it was about a month ago or more) I was watching a tribute to Robert Osborne who has been the host of Turner Classic Movies… he recently died (okay, again, maybe it was more than recently). They were replaying Osborne doing an interview with Alan Arkin. It was brought up that Arkin had written about ten books, but he claimed he wasn’t a writer. It was something he did to fill the time in between acting jobs. He said a real writer writes every day—like having a boil—when the person writes, the boil bursts—but that boil is always there. The writer must write in order to release the pressure of the boil. Or something to that affect. I wished I had taken notes, but… I immediately understood exactly what he was talking about. I don’t have ten books published, but I am a writer. I do write every day. Oh I may miss a day or two out of the year, but I for the most part (daily) write down my dreams, a spiritual writing exercise and journal… babbling on about anything and everything… what Nathalie Goldberg calls, no wait, it’s Julia Cameron, what she calls, Morning Pages. And if all else fails with journaling, I am always writing a letter to some poor soul.

When I was a kid, I had a boil. On my left, upper inner thigh. Every morning my mom would squeeze that boil in between her two thumb nails releasing the yuck inside the boil. To me this was sheer torture and I dreaded waking up in the morning, knowing what would take place. This big pimply lump was an appendage to my thigh and I thought it never would quit refilling itself. I’d look away as my mom’s hard as steel nails headed towards the little red, snow-capped mountain. Some mornings while rubbing Mr. Sandman out of my eyes, I begged and whined, “Mom, do we have to do this?”

“Oh hush. Yes.”

I’d clench my teeth, eyes watering, hoping there wasn’t much to squeeze out… praying it wouldn’t refill itself again.

So, yes, I get boils… I am a writer you know.