Just FYI I’ve been a little more adventurous lately. I don’t know why – do I need a reason?
Okay we’ll call it a mid-life crisis. But if it is mid-life that means I will live to be well over one hundred years old. Oh lord, I’m not sure that is a good thing.
Hey, speaking of good things, you know what’s NOT?!
It’s a string (hence being called a thong) with a triangular bit of material cut in such a way to cover the symphysis pubis. You know – the lower lady parts… the mound (where nowadays the lawn is scalped)… the rug (where if there is any carpet it more than likely does not match the drapes)… the… well You know!
Lord I’m having a hot flash or a blushing fit; I don’t know why I am trying to explain something everyone over five years old already understands.
Maggie and Linda wouldn’t blush. Heck, their mothers wouldn’t blush — they would all wear thongs. They would all do things too — terrible things I
might have done wouldn’t do but they would probably be ashamed of me airing my dirty laundry so to speak. But hey, I’m among friends, right? I’m just living out loud and flinging cake against the wall. 😉
Anyway, back to my story with a slight digression.
I tried to wear one of the darn crack-crawling, butt-scratching, awkward little invaders years ago because they were supposed to be sexy. Yeah. Well. Digression complete.
As I mentioned earlier I’ve been feeling adventurous. Did you notice the polka dot explosion of color going on with my fingernails? And that even holding the thong is somewhat awkward.
I do have to admit the scrap of material is more comfortable than it was two decades ago. As a matter of fact it’s so comfortable one might forget to pull it down when they go to use the restroom and then have to peel the damn soggy thing off and you’ve got pee on your hands and — I mean, I’ve heard that could happen.
Okay the useless thing is more comfortable but I still don’t get it – it serves no real purpose. If all you’re worried about is panty lines you might as well go commando, am I right?
Well ladies [& gents] if you like your thongs, keep your thongs and wear that hanky thread proudly but as for me…
Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!
Q: Is any of your fiction true? Do you write about real life?
A: Well yes and no. For example a visit to Rockford Illinois for my granddaughter’s graduation inspired the following scene which takes place somewhere in the historical Lake-Peterson House.
Our dog Leia was the inspiration for the physical description of Gus and that is her on the cover.
There is some truth in the fiction I write. I will leave it up to the reader to decide where that truth lies.
Chapter Twenty Five
Mary paced the empty hallway on the third floor of the ancient house. She counted fifteen steps from one lamp to the next and wondered if the people below could hear her. The dark corridor seemed to grow shorter with each lap along with her patience. She considered unlocking her mind so she could tap into the thoughts of those around her but intuition advised against it. Occasionally she paused to listen at the door; each time she found the words indecipherable and returned to pacing until a gentle creak caused her to stop.
“You may go in now.” A flat voice announced as the heavy door gave way. Sunbeams flooded the hallway and Mary squinted at the figure in front of her; at the starched white cap and unwieldy dress which were as outdated as the house.
“Thank you.” Mary stepped forward and warmly squeezed the woman’s shoulders. Her affections were met with a rigid withdrawal but not before she could catch a glimpse of the nurse’s frontal imaginings. As her eyes adjusted to the light she could better see the nurse’s features; her round face as stiff as her attire looked like a plate cemented between the pinned head covering and cinched collar.
“Thank you.” Mary reiterated with less affection as she slid past the nurse and closed the door behind her.
The floorboards groaned as Mary hobbled across the oversized space toward a single bed in the corner. Jim glanced up, forced a smile and promptly turned his attention back to his wife.
“How are y’all?” Mary anxiously inquired as she cast an eye over the new parents.
“We… we’re all fine.” Clara mumbled, straining to open her eyes.
“Where are the babies?” Mary asked, glancing suspiciously around the bare room.
“One of the nurses took them over to the hospital – said they had to be examined – tests and shots – routine stuff.” Jim explained as if trying to assure himself. “They will bring them back as soon as they’re finished… as soon as they make sure they’re both in good health.” His voice trailed as he tenderly bathed Clara’s pale face.
“That makes sense.” Mary tried to sound convincing but the smell of sweat and panic made it difficult. She lifted Clara’s moist flaccid hand and asked, “How are you sweetie?”
“I can’t…” Clara whispered, gasping between words, “can’t … hear… Frieda.”
“Don’t worry love.” Jim paused briefly to blot his own forehead and neck before sweeping the salty cloth across his wife’s.
“Mama?” Clara’s eyes fluttered.
“Something is wrong!” The vision appeared as red paint flowing over a white canvas and Mary yanked the sheet back. Doc! Mary opened the vault of her subconscious, honed her thoughts on the old doctor and yelled. Doc! Hurry! Her brain was inundated with voices and images as the internal walls fell away; the extrasensory chaos proved to be too much and she collapsed on the floor.
When Mary came to she could see the doctor standing over Clara, pressing and massaging her abdomen. A bottle of clear liquid hung at the head of the bed and a pile of blood stained sheets littered the floor around them.
“She’ll be okay now. We just have to let the medicine do its work and keep the fundus firm.” He spoke in a casual manner. “Fetch me another bag of special blend Gus and be careful not to puncture this one.” The white shepherd sprinted to the door, his claws creating a rapid rhythmic tap against the wooden floor as he ran.
“Do you think he will speak to me?” Jim stood in the same spot, still sponging his wife’s face as he spoke but the scent of panic had lessened.
“Maybe.” The doctor replied suppressing any signs of optimism yet Mary could see the previous conversation between Doc and Gus. She grinned as she raised herself to a standing position. The shepherd would soon have a new home.
“I guess the sight of all that blood got to you. Are you okay now?” Jim asked without taking his eyes off of Clara.
“I guess so.” Mary laughed, rubbing the small lump on her head. “Our girl definitely looks a lot better.” She said, running her fingers across Clara’s rosy complexion. “What happened? Why did she bleed so much?”
“That happens sometimes, especially with twins.” Mary accepted the doctor’s verbal response without debate as he knew she would. The truth of the matter would be kept secret between the two of them for the time being. If Jim learned of the attempted murder he would retaliate and that could put Doc and Gus in a dangerous situation. “Good boy!” the doctor took the pint sized plastic container from the dog’s mouth. “You rub the fundus just like I showed you James.” He said as he quickly inserted a fifty milliliter syringe, filled it with the thick crimson liquid and injected it directly into the intravenous line. He repeated the process nine more times until the bag was empty and the bottle overhead was dry.
“When can I have my babies?” An invigorated Clara sprung up and demanded, “I want Fritz and Frieda right now. If they are not here in five minutes I will go and get them myself.”
“Are you sure you are capable of handling them right now?” Doc asked.
“I am more than capable.” Clara took the salty half-damp cloth, snatched the I.V. from her arm and applied pressure. “I believe I am capable of taking this place down and everyone in my path to get to my children.”
“I believe you.” The old doctor smiled.
“What did you give her?” Jim shook his head and laughed, “An hour ago I was afraid I was losing her – now I’m just afraid of her.”
“You have nothing to fear.” The doctor’s face lit up with a shrewd grin, “As long as you are one of the good guys.”
“I’ll tell my nurse to bring the babies now.”
Within minutes a lovely petit woman entered the room with a bundle in each arm.
“I hear the new mommy is anxious to hold her little ones.”
“Oh yes.” Clara cried, extending her arms.
The nurse carefully placed the infants in their mother’s arms. Frieda was nestled on the right and Fritz on the left. The twins instinctively turned their face to Clara’s breasts and began rooting and grunting. She in turn lifted her blouse and guided each mouth to an engorged nipple, welcoming the throbbing and stinging as they gulped.
“I have never seen anything so beautiful.” Jim’s voiced cracked as he spoke. “I have never felt so blessed.” He glanced at the others around him. Mary sniffled and held her hand to her mouth, the old doctor nodded and smiled and the white shepherd pawed at the tears streaming down his snout.
I don’t think I knew Cecilia was a Roman martyr (2nd or 3rd century) until I moused over the name while reading Cloud Wrangler on Kindle. Who’d a thunk it? 😉
Check out the free Kindle preview and then buy Cloud Wrangler at your favorite store.
A world inside a world inside a world…
Creation is mind boggling. Just when you think you have it all figured out you realize you don’t know jack-squat.
This fact just re-occurred to me.
I take pictures to clear my mind and maybe I was pouting a little because an author friend told me I missed a great opportunity to create a buzz with the books released this summer. Yeah. The 2017 Summer Release.
It was an accurate observation but as I said before, “The only buzz I am motivated to create comes in the aftermath of consuming liquor.”
I was just being silly, the truth is I don’t drink much but maybe I should – I would be much more
Tick-tock, tick-tock… Tsk, tsk, tsk.
There I was, hanging my head, dragging my camera along like a blanket as I clomped outside and boom!
“My goodness, look at the Marigolds!”
I forgot about creating anything and became enchanted by the creation around me.
Just FYI: lying on the ground with a camera can be very relaxing and entertaining and educational and thought provoking… and itchy.
These photographs are just a few of the larger insects. I tell you it is like another world inside that flowerbed! I plan to go back out there and lay down again… as soon as these ant bites clear up.
I am looking for five fresh eyes and sharp minds; beta readers who are passionate about reading and can be brutally honest if necessary.
Brief synopsis: Cloud Wrangler is book IV in the Clan Destiny series. If you have not read the other three books – no worries! Cloud Wrangler introduces new characters in the clan and their abilities. I want to know what your take is on the story, its flaws and if it is able to stand alone, etc…
Genre: You tell me.
Compensation: Your name in credits and that awesome feeling of knowing you helped bring it to life … you were part of making it happen.
Send me a short bio jannahill@rocketmail tell me a little about yourself and state what format you would prefer the ARC/manuscript. I personally prefer Microsoft Word doc for the ease of shared editing; highlight, make a note, send it back. No space consumed; no paper wasted. But I leave it up to your preference Mobi, PDF, etc…
I am wrapping up the final chapter and ARCs will be ready soon. PLEASE, please, please be aware I will need your input/summary/notes within two weeks of receiving the manuscript. If you have time constraints that prevent you from realistically accepting that deadline (I totally get it) maybe you should sit this one out. If this goes well we’ll do it again and there will be another chance.
Questions? Shoot me an email.