Let this be a lesson to all authors.
NEVER release a book the first week of January….unless it’s a diet book. Of the top 100 best sellers on Amazon on January 3rd, at least 50-60 of them are diet books. That cracks me up. Hopefully, the skinny-wanna-be’s will fall off the wagon in a few weeks and we can get back to our regularly scheduled program.
Bon Appetite!
Apparently I’m going to put off working on my book for the entire day, and I’m going to procrastinate by writing stuff here.
I’m working on a female character who is downtrodden and beaten, and am not as pleased with her as I was with my last female character who was strong, proud, determined, and driven. What is it that draws us to strong women?
I think of female characters from book and movies and always come up with women who have backbone, substance, grit. I have a hard time remembering any of the wimpy, whiny girls.
Off the top of my head, I love (in no particular order):
Sally Field in Steel Magnolias and Norma Rae
Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider and every other movie she has played in
even Alicia Silverstone in Clueless (LOVE her!)
What is it about these characters that is so intriguing?
Who are your favorite female heroines?
Well, here we go – our yearly photograph. We are on our way to Easter Sunday Brunch with my sister and her family. The children love their aunt Margie, but I could really take her or leave her. Sure, we grew up together, but we don’t have much in common these days. She is the head of the church volunteer committee, a regular helper at the community food bank, and an upstanding member of society. I, on the other hand, am a shameless despot and a threat to society.
Last year, there were four of us in the annual photograph. This year, it’s just me and the kids. I feel bad for them that they are without a mother now, but there’s nothing I can do about it. She is gone and nothing will bring her back.
I may have had a few too many drinks that night, but I just couldn’t take her nagging any more. I had enough and she deserved it. No one suspects me at all, after all, I’m a poor widower with two small children whose wife died at the hands of an intruder. But it’s only a matter of time before these kids start asking questions about her, and I don’t know what I will do then.
For now, we’re going to have prime rib and mashed potatoes. And maybe apple pie for desert.
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I’m late on the DP Challenge this week, but the picture is so good, I had to jump in. For some reason the photo really struck me as something very dark, even with the little girl in her pink dress – or maybe in spite of the little girl in her pink dress. hmmm.
If you are not familiar with the daily post challenge, check it out here.
I’ve traced my family for over 30 years. I currently have 8548 people in my family tree, including 16 great great grandparents, 26 third greats, 36 fourth greats, 49 fifth greats and 61 sixth greats – there’s more, but I won’t bore you any further. At one point, part of my tree opens up and the male side dates back to 1190 England, and the female side dates back to 70 B.C. I have family from England, Ireland, France, Scotland, and places so far back, they aren’t even on the map anymore. I am passionate about my records and my new discoveries.
Do you want to know what my BIGGEST pet peeve in the whole world is??
My biggest pet peeve is getting messages and/or emails that say things like: “Please respond and let me know who you are and why you are tracing my family” or “Please transfer my uncles memorial page to me because he is my family” or “Thank you for posting headstone photos of my family.”
Yeah. My My My My. Let’s make it clear. If you have ancestors, you are probably not the only one in your family tree. The above comments need responses from me including, “I am tracing my husband’s family, not yours”, “The man is also MY uncle”, and “I drove 14 hours one-way to visit that cemetery and posted headstone photos of MY family, not yours, but you are welcome, I guess.”
One of my biggest pleasures is finding distant cousins all over the world, but not when those cousins send rude emails.
I’m currently working on a book about a cousin who was an orphan. My third great grandmother raised her deceased brother’s five orphans for a while. One of the orphans has a great story, so I’m writing a book about her. She lost her parents at the age of nine in 1862 in Mississippi. She is found in the 1870 census living with her other aunt in Alabama, and found in the 1880 census living back in Mississippi. She is then found in 1890 in Texas, married with an infant daughter, and died that very same year at the age of 36. My questions were, “Why did she go back to MS? and “How did she end up in TX?” I did find the answers to my questions, but still wanted more information. Through some family searching (emails to a cousin of a cousin of a cousin), I ended up on the phone with the infant daughter’s GRANDDAUGHTER, who is 73 years old and living in Abilene, TX. She told me all about her family and her grandmother, but she did not know anything about her orphaned great grandmother or the family line before that, so we filled in a lot of family history for each other. She emailed me a photo of the orphan and a four-page hand-written letter from the orphan to her brother, dated July 1890, a month before she died. And I emailed her stories of the family along with a photo of the orphans grandfather, her THIRD great grandfather whom she never knew existed. It was amazing. We are cousins connected 150 years ago. Wow!
So, lesson to be learned:
If you contact someone about their family research, do not say “MY family,” because if they are researching and have records, it is more than likely their family also, and you never want to be rude to your cousins.
Class dismissed.
I work nights. I live in the country. I drive 57 miles one-way down a dark, deserted highway. No, not a dark, desert highway. Wrong song. Anyway, nightly on my way home, I play chicken with the deer. Saturday night, the deer finally won.
I see them standing on the side of the road almost nightly. In the past, I have swerved to miss one on occasion. I thought I might have actually clipped one a few months ago. This one was STANDING in the middle of the road. He was in the right lane facing to the right. I swerved to the left. If he would have jumped the way he was facing or even just stood still, I would have missed him. He jumped left – right into my car. (Cue Timewarp song – “It’s just a jump to the left…”)
What my engine is supposed to look like…
What my engine looks like now…
The worst part was upon impact EVERYTHING went black. WTH?? Here are the thoughts that went through my head over the next 5 seconds…
1. Why can’t I see? Where are the stars and signs and lines on the road?
2. Am I dead? Wow, that was quick and painless.
3. Am I blind? I don’t think I was hit in the face by anything. I can see this jellyfish of an airbag in my way, ergo, I must not be blind.
4. Is my windshield now a bloodbath, blocking my view? Ewww. That visual needs to get out of my head right now.
5. What is that smell? Is it blood? Is it from the airbag going off? Maybe the engine is on fire. If the engine is on fire, don’t you think I’d be able to see that?
I don’t understand.
Wait! I can still see out of the driver’s side window. WTH?
Oh, duh, it’s the hood. My black hood is straight up in the air, blocking my vision. At least I’m not blind, but the car manufacturers should remedy that. That’s just dangerous. That could cause an accident….uh, yeah, whatever.
I think my engine is dead. No power steering. No power brakes. I coast to the right shoulder, looking out of the driver’s side window at the lines in the road to make sure I’m safely off the road. Vaguely, I hope there is not an abandoned car on the shoulder, but I figure if I hit it, it’s not really my fault. I can’t freakin’ see.
Stop. Sigh. Breathe.
Everything ok? I think so. No injuries? Except for thinking I was blinded for life and would have to buy one of those white canes with the red tips, but having no idea how I would choose the right cane if I couldn’t actually see it…no, I’m good. Cell phone? Right here, along with everything else from various locations of my car, now in a convenient and handy pile in my front seat.
What if the deer is actually in my engine? I try to look through the 3-inch slit between the hood and the dashboard, but I can’t see anything. Should I get out and check? I guess I have to. My thought process doesn’t go beyond that point to figure out what I will do if there actually IS a deer sitting on my engine, but I’m still thinking the engine may be on fire and I need to look.
Open car door…well, try to open car door. It will only open about 8 inches. I squeeze out and walk around front to look at the engine. No deer. Thank god. But, holy crap, my front end is a mess. Now, where am I? I need to call and give the police a mile marker. Luckily, there’s a sign right in front of my car. I almost ran into it. No kidding. I’m a mile from my house. Perfect.
When the police arrive, the officer says the deer is about 100 yards behind me on the left shoulder and casually mentions that the poor thing is still alive. He had to shoot the deer THREE times to kill it. Ugh. End to a perfect drive home.
Don’t worry, that shit’ll buff right out…
Update: Finale of the Deer vs. Truck saga
My truck is on its final journey to the junk yard. I’m so sad. The insurance co paid all but about $500 of what I owed, but I was due to buy new tires before winter, so it’s a wash.
Lesson Learned: a 70 mph front-end collision with air-bag deployment and over $12,000 of body and engine damage + I walked away with only a bruise from the seat belt = I’ll be buying another Nissan on Monday.
Maybe it’s me.
Maybe it’s sunspots.
Maybe it actually happens, same time, every year.
It seems that things, by things I mean life, should become calmer this time of year. The kids are back in school. Everyone is on a schedule. Vacations and yard work are over. The only anxiety-producing dilemma is whether or not to put Prozac in the Thanksgiving turkey, and deciding when and if we should start our holiday shopping. No big deal, right?
Then why is it that everything from family to finances to work to major life decisions seem to come rumbling in with the force of Hurricane Katrina between now and Dec 31st? Is it just me or does everything/everyone get really bat-shit-crazy this time of year?
I’m just not up for it this year… just sayin’.
The other day, I asked an acquaintance of mine, “How are you today?”
He answered, “I’m livin’ the dream, baby, livin’ the dream!”
I thought that was the funniest thing I ever heard, and I laughed like crazy.
Well, since then, I’ve been responding the same way when folks ask me ‘how I am’. They always laugh out loud. I guess it’s better than the traditional, “Fine, and you?” response. I think I’ll keep it up.
Lori Crane 