Our so-called retirement home on the lake is nearly complete.  It’s been a long, drawn out process, but because of supply shortages and construction crews out sick, we’ve experienced countless delays, and, at times, set backs.  However, our contractor is wonderful, and she—yes, she—has gone above and beyond in the building of our home. 

My interest in love and romance-oriented anything started at a young age. First, it started with romance magazines in the 1960’s, then I poured myself into Kathleen E. Woodiwiss’ romance novels, and continued with the likes of Judith McNaught, Julie Garwood, and on and on, until an odd little thing happened one day, I began writing historical fiction romance novels, not just reading them.

I was recently asked if I’d made any New Year’s resolutions, and I resolutely replied in the negative.  Not only did I not make any this year, I never do.  To me, they’re just the perfect storm for letting ourselves down and beating ourselves up, and then, come December 31st, when the crushing blow hits us in our over-indulged post-Christmas faces that we’ve not met those goals, we pass on those unrealized achievements to become the next New Year’s resolutions. 

Nothing rings in the holidays more than those all-too familiar smells that are associated with this time of year.  Who doesn’t think of Thanksgiving when smelling turkey and dressing cooking?  And who doesn’t experience a wave of warm and fuzzy nostalgia that a whiff of eggnog evokes at Christmas?  

‘Tis the season for a whole lot of giving and it’s interesting to see how creative people get in the different ways they do it.  Some opt for store-bought gifts, while others make beautiful handmade ones, and then there are those who choose to give the greatest gift of all; time spent helping others.  

Recently, one of our wonderful WordWranglers, Liz Flaherty, mentioned something about us coming into that thirty-days-of-being-grateful time, now that November is upon us.  So, I suggested that we should each write a list of thirty things we’re grateful for and everyone was in!  

It’s hard to believe that it’s that time of the year again when the undead take over television and theaters, and costume shops, makeshift haunted houses and corn mazes can be found in every town and city across America.  Though the vast majority of people are afraid of death, or avoid thinking about it too much, we spend countless dollars each year getting as close as we can at taking a terrifying peek through that thin veil to the “other side”.  

Last week was the official start of fall, though I’ve been watching for signs of it for a few months now.  Oddly enough, at the end of June every year, just a precious few leaves on the road leading up to my house change into a radiant orange, heralding the fact that autumn is on its way and that another change of seasons will soon take place.  But, after those few orange Buckeye leaves appear, teasing me and setting me to panting like a hungry dog waiting for a thick beef bone, nothing else happens. 

I must admit, over the last few days, I’ve been running back and forth to my television to catch the latest information on hurricane Ida.  First thing in the morning, I’d click on the TV to get an updated forecast track as this formidable storm churned across the water toward the Gulf Coast states. 

  I just wrapped up a wonderful weekend with some of the fabulous women who are fellow WordWrangler bloggers.  Three of them—specifically, Liz, Nan and Margie—arrived Thursday afternoon, and from that point on until Monday morning, we laughed, ate, shared, and we grew.  Maybe we didn’t grow so dramatically that it was noticeable, or to the point that the clouds parted and a choir of angels sang, but we grew, nonetheless.  

 A couple of weeks ago, we had our Rotary club’s yearly banquet, which is a time for much back slapping as we thank our out-going president and much well-wishing as we usher in the new leader of the pack.  This year’s banquet took place at the usual spot, which is the beautiful Altapass Apple Orchard. 

Ahhh, summer. Who doesn’t love it? Summertime heralds in that certain carefree, easy-going feeling that the other three seasons just don’t have. Because the days are longer, there’s more time to play, which makes those sunlit hours even more important if one is still caught up in the corporate spider's web for eight to ten hours a day. Livin’ is easier, as the old song goes—at least it used to be.

Sometimes, it takes an author a while to get back into the mood to write, and such has been the case with getting on with my work in progress, WEDNESDAYS AT THE WABASH DINER.  The pandemic took the air out of my creative balloon for a while, but now that I’m fully vaccinated, I’m re-emerging once again, and it’s wonderful stepping back out into the light.

For this month’s theme, the WordWrangler gals decided that it would be fun to give our readers a sneak peek into something we’re writing about.  However, since I’ll be writing two blogs this month, I decided that my first blog would be about a book that coulda-woulda-shoulda been, but never was, and all because of an unfortunate and highly embarrassing communication breakdown. 

When I was a little girl, I loved the story of Rapunzel, and the modern version of it, Tangled, captivated audiences as much as the earlier version did.  Throughout the story, we all sympathized with the poor girl’s plight; being locked in a tower year after year, while longingly wishing to venture out into the world beyond. 

The gals at WordWranglers threw out the idea of answering five questions for our latest series of blogs, and because I've always enjoyed playing games, I was in! I had fun answering them (some of my responses even surprised me), and I hope you'll enjoy them, too.

I just want to take a moment to wish all of my family and friends a beautiful Easter weekend, and a rich and meaningful last few days of Passover. Somehow, these holy holidays seem as if they're heralding a new beginning; a time of rebirth and renewal in many different ways, and I, for one, couldn't be more ready for it. So, may the light of the sun rising on Easter morning, and the light from your Passover candles, be symbols of hope that joy-full days lie ahead for us all. Much love and many blessings to you and yours.

Last week, I lost a friend, and though he lived to the ripe old age of 92, still, we’re never quite ready to let go of those we love even when we’re well aware that the sand in the hourglass is rapidly running out.

The topic this month at WordWranglers is romance, and, in this difficult time, I can’t think of a better subject to write about. We all need to be whisked away once in a while, and, at the moment, Elon Musk’s new rocket is starting to look pretty appealing, especially if someone like Max Harjo is on board. I’m sure many of you just said, “Max who?”, but we’ll get back to that in a moment.

I keep hearing from friends that they’ve been ambitiously cleaning their homes from top to bottom since our stay-at-home order was put into place. The biggie seems to be cleaning out one’s closet: People are purging, organizing and color coordinating everything from blouses and belts, to jackets and jeans, and ridding themselves of those countless items that we swear to ourselves we’ll get back into at some point, or that should have been tossed out along with the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack.