Why is it?

 Why is my creativity more strong when I have fifty thousand things to do? Is it the procrastination that appeals to me? Is that my mind is free to wander on all the things vigorously and enjoyes the mental challange of juggling all of life's problems at once?  I kid you not; I have a packing list beside me that has more things on it than I have room in my car for! I haven't traveled home in a while not since my two car accidents last year. I'm more nervous about driving than anything. It will be a very happy time to be reunited with my dear family. I miss them so much! I can't wait for all the hugs and laughter. Happy Easter to you and yours! 

Messy hair, don't care!

Part of my uniform as a writer is a messy hair bun. Everyday. I love my long hair, and it keeps my curls pulled out, and short hair is not a good look for me. The hair bun is essential because it's not distracting, not fussy, and more effective than anything else. If it's effective, why change? Why mess with it? So I sit here listening to Alexa belt out Golden Hour over the neighbor's dog barking, and the occasional siren from an emergency squad visiting the local hospital, with a cute but messy hair bun perched on my head. 

It becomes one less thing that will not take my focus away from the page I'm working on. What am I currently working on, you ask? A book that I have temporarily titled Twelve Letters.

Why are Writers, writers?

One big reason writers write is because of good books. How good a book is always a point of perception.  It would be challenging for me to narrow my favorite books down to just one, so for not while I diligently write my first few books, I'll give you a glimpse into some of the very most favorite reads of my lifetime. 

Let's start with Suzan Wiggs Summer By the Sea.

A bittersweet story of young love wasted and then redemptively reclaimed in adulthood. 

https://www.amazon.com/Summer-Sea-Susan-Wiggs-ebook/dp/B07LDBV5DR/ref=tmm_kin_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1677262456&sr=8-1

Spelling funnies

 In this episode of auto-correct round #500 I came across this gem.  Horse Divers. That is a new one, after further investigation, it should have been Hors D' oeuvres. I hope that made you smile!

The new year beckons

 I have a lot of goals for this next year. I know I won't accomplish all of them but I will work toward them. May this new year bring you optimism, hope, peace, and happiness!

Christmas times A-Comin'

1978 ish Christmas Eve

 I was a very young girl sitting in the back seat of my parents' green Chevy Caprice. My seatbelt tugged at me uncomfortably, and my ever-faithful bunny blanket covered my cold legs. My best friends were beside me, Lamy-pie and Bunny. It was late, and I was cold; so cold my breath fogged up the backseat window when I exhaled. My head was lying against that window, and the fake fur on my coat (that Mother insisted I wear) irritated my face. We had just finished the stomach-churning descent of Bull Mountain, and that meant we were getting close to a little town. I was hoping to see Christmas lights and was usually allowed to pay the toll at the bridge. I was tired but wanted to be awake; my Dad's soft and low voice followed along with every song on his cassette tape. His music choice was always country, and the older, the better. Every song was sad. Every piece was bleak, yet excitement was in the air; we would soon see Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa gave the best hugs.

I can hear those songs in my child's mind, Dad singing, my Mom quiet as a mouse in the seat beside him. I was so tired and so bored, I didn't want to be there, yet I did. No doubt I was allowed to pay that toll with the change one of them handed me, then promptly fell back to sleep. 

I only remember one house with Christmas lights that night; not many mountain families had the money to waste. This sweet memory brings my parents and grandparents to life; it takes me to a happy time when my world was full of family and love. Today I am thankful for the transportation back to that time and place, even for a few seconds. I hope to leave behind moments like those left for me. Sweet for the heart, good for the soul, and an escape to childhood joys.

Tensile

 Remember the old family photos when silver tensile dripped from every branch like snow? Remember the yards of long fluffy tensile that was wrapped around the tree? For some reason, I long for that nostalgia. However, I have a cat, so "Alex, I'll take tensile by the yard for 100, please".