After a few days of feeling a bit under the weather, which to some may mean 'sickly' but that's not what I mean, more like a bit depressed, I suppose. But today the actual stormy weather brought me out of it ... the rainstorm jolted me back to the living. Now, don't get me wrong, it wasn't that dark for me, it wasn't that bleak, it's just that sometimes I seem to go into a funk and spend a few days there. During that time I'm in my thoughts, mostly, and I totally shut down. Don't want to do anything productive, don't want to see or talk to anyone, although I do force myself to do what HAS to be done, but don't care to stick to my health regime or bother to take care of myself. But I do manage to bathe every night before going to bed. lol lol lol Have to do that, no matter how depressed I get. So maybe depressed isn't really the right word, maybe it's . . . well, whatever . . .
When I'm like that, my thoughts wander all over the place. They go back to the beginning of time - my early years, my early adult years, my middle adult years and up to the present. I seem to run the gamut, from teens to seventies. Much of my thoughts are about the relationships I've had, quite a bunch of them, the people I've known, quite a bunch of them, my family. How I went wrong, how I went right, what I should have or shouldn't have done. Why there's not a man in my life today. Why I haven't wanted one today. Then I ask myself, how will I feel tomorrow?
Although I truly feel I'm not destined to have another mate, I wonder about the male friend possibility. But I know it's next to impossible to have a male 'friend', one to date, an escort of sorts, without the physicality of it creeping in. I don't see myself in that type of situation. Sex. But I do see myself in a man/woman friendship. Sort of. lol lol lol I'm grinning now. Not believing it even as I write. lol lol lol Hey, I'm trying.
You know, I think my answer is ... I'm relegated to having relationships through my characters. Living vicariously through them, just like you readers do. So you see, my dear fans and readers, I'm on the same page with you. Although most of you are with wonderful husbands and boyfriends and like to dream a little while reading my characters, but most of you are happy in your situations, and rightfully so. And then there are some of you who are older, single or widowed, who still like to dream a little just like me, still like to be taken to a place where you may not be able to go in reality. So I write for you too. And there are some of you who would love to travel to the places I go to and write about, but are not able to do that, so I write for you too.
Those of you who want to break out of subjugation and control, to take back your lives and live, to be free from abuse ... well, I write for you too. "Midnight at the Eiffel" is a prime example of overcoming that misery. And there are some of you who need to learn how to build your self-esteem and believe in yourselves, to learn how to go for what you want and to get it. I write for you too. Prime example in "Midnight in Brussels." For those of you who are adventurous ... all of my novels are sure to captivate you.
Yes, all my novels have something for each of you, even for you men out there. You want to learn about women and how they think? Read my novels. I write for both men and women, for everyone.
So ... from this very moment (May 9, 1012, 7:54 p.m.) I'm on the upswing ... from this moment I'm back ... until the next huge pendulum swing in the other direction. But I'm not complainin' about the mood swings, because each time I come out of the funk just a little bit stronger with a little more clarity.
Luv & Hugs ...
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Friday, February 3, 2012
THINKING OF PARIS ...
Yep, I'm thinking of Paris tonite. Oops, it's morning already ... 1:39 a.m. Oh my gosh, didn't realize that. No wonder I'm tired. Anyway, I'm still thinking of Paris, regardless of the time.
I think of the novels I've written, my favorite one is MIDNIGHT AT THE EIFFEL. A lot of me went into that book. And a lot of Shellie Singer went into it.
How many times have you felt as if you wanted to drop out of sight, disappear from your present circumstances, to get away from it all. Shellie had a desperate reason to escape of course. It was a matter of life or death for her. She chose life and fled to Paris, France.
In the writing of the novel, I drew from my own visual experiences of the City of Light. Gawd, I love that place. My friend Robert (Bob) has lived there since the '60s. After the Vietnam War (in which he was a flyer), he left the U.S. and has lived in Paris ever since, became an architect. I met him when I rented his Bateau Simpatico for a holiday. A houseboat that sits on the Seine near the Eiffel Tower.
I've returned to the boat twice since, and have been to the city I don't know how many times in the past 20 years. Many! But what I was going to say . . . my friend Bob says that there is nothing in the world like living in Paris. He says that if I spent a month there, or three months, or even six months, I'd be hooked. Well, I'm already hooked with my 4 to 10 days at a time. I keep threatening to spend 6 months at one sitting, but haven't been able to figure that one out yet. My three cats are preventing me from doing it at the moment.
But every time I go, I discover something brand spanking new about the place. The last time, my friend Babs went with me, and we didn't have such a grand time . . . we were both in pain. She with her shoulder, me with my feet. But even still, I have fond memories of Paris and I'm eager to return now that my feet problems are pretty much solved.
When I wrote about Montmartre in the novel, which is where the artists congregate, it was as I would want to live. And sometimes I feel I have lived as Shellie, Janet, and Rachel did on the square, sometimes I feel I have become my characters, sans the bad stuff which isn't in my reality.
If you haven't read it yet, on Kindle it's 2.99, or will be in a couple of days. Right now it's 5.99, the new price should go into effect by Saturday, or maybe even tomorrow - Friday. Let me know what you think after you read it. And if you write a review on Amazon for me, I'll send you another of my print books for free. There are four "Midnight" novels, and two collections of short stories, also a collection of plays I've written. Any one of them, I'll sign and send to you.
So have a good read ...
I think of the novels I've written, my favorite one is MIDNIGHT AT THE EIFFEL. A lot of me went into that book. And a lot of Shellie Singer went into it.
How many times have you felt as if you wanted to drop out of sight, disappear from your present circumstances, to get away from it all. Shellie had a desperate reason to escape of course. It was a matter of life or death for her. She chose life and fled to Paris, France.
In the writing of the novel, I drew from my own visual experiences of the City of Light. Gawd, I love that place. My friend Robert (Bob) has lived there since the '60s. After the Vietnam War (in which he was a flyer), he left the U.S. and has lived in Paris ever since, became an architect. I met him when I rented his Bateau Simpatico for a holiday. A houseboat that sits on the Seine near the Eiffel Tower.
I've returned to the boat twice since, and have been to the city I don't know how many times in the past 20 years. Many! But what I was going to say . . . my friend Bob says that there is nothing in the world like living in Paris. He says that if I spent a month there, or three months, or even six months, I'd be hooked. Well, I'm already hooked with my 4 to 10 days at a time. I keep threatening to spend 6 months at one sitting, but haven't been able to figure that one out yet. My three cats are preventing me from doing it at the moment.
But every time I go, I discover something brand spanking new about the place. The last time, my friend Babs went with me, and we didn't have such a grand time . . . we were both in pain. She with her shoulder, me with my feet. But even still, I have fond memories of Paris and I'm eager to return now that my feet problems are pretty much solved.
When I wrote about Montmartre in the novel, which is where the artists congregate, it was as I would want to live. And sometimes I feel I have lived as Shellie, Janet, and Rachel did on the square, sometimes I feel I have become my characters, sans the bad stuff which isn't in my reality.
If you haven't read it yet, on Kindle it's 2.99, or will be in a couple of days. Right now it's 5.99, the new price should go into effect by Saturday, or maybe even tomorrow - Friday. Let me know what you think after you read it. And if you write a review on Amazon for me, I'll send you another of my print books for free. There are four "Midnight" novels, and two collections of short stories, also a collection of plays I've written. Any one of them, I'll sign and send to you.
So have a good read ...
Friday, January 20, 2012
HIBERNOPHOBIA and the GYPSIES
I hadn't realized how strong Hibernophobia is in the UK until I began watching the TV series: My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding.
It breaks my heart that such prejudices still exist today against a people from Ireland. The Irish Travellers that are depicted in the television series suffer the most discrimination and racism throughout the UK. Today it's as bad as the whites' early prejudices against the blacks in the USA. Signs such as "No Travellers" and "No Irish Need Apply" are indicative of an unmerciful, unkind people.
I know, I know . . . the religious war between the Irish Catholics and the British Protestants was the initial dispute, but for heaven's sakes, what the hell is it all about now? And to top it off, antiziganism (prejudice against gypsies) is dumped on top of the Irish prejudices.
Did you know they have a very strict moral code? They don't marry outside their kind, and divorce is not an option? True, the life isn't for everybody, but those that have chosen it should be able to live as they wish without prejudice.
In the show I watched tonite ... the wedding planner called over 50 venues to accommodate the reception. But as soon as the hotel would find out it was a traveller wedding they immediately came up with one excuse or another to reject them. Their weddings are huge, and some drive their campers, so the venues have to be spacious. Not easy to find the right site because of those two requirements, either.
They finally found a kind soul - proprietor of an animal shelter, a beautiful building by the way - who accepted them and bent over backwards to make it a fabulous and memorable event for the bride and groom. I know that might make you giggle - an animal shelter, etc., but think about it. Regardless of how well it turned out, is that really fair?
I'm really pissed about it all. If it were left up to me, I would go to Wales and England and build centers for weddings, and would rent them FIRST to travellers and gypsies.
Oh, and maybe you've seen the documentaries about the removal of travellers' camps throughout England ... how they are being ousted, their trailers trashed and burned if they don't move at the nearby council's discretion?
It's a human disgrace. It is. I would also go to England and buy up property and build grounds to house traveller trailers and gysies. I'd make the accommodations modern and comfortable for them. I'd plant trees and shrubery around the perimeter so they wouldn't be bothered, so they could live a good life as others do without prejudices.
They're a very proud, colorful, and dramatic people, historic. They love hard, play hard, and live hard. They don't drain the government coffers, they work for their livings, for themselves and others, and they are loyal to their people.
As I mentioned, they have to marry within their ranks, and rarely do they break that code. They are religious, marry very young and have many children. One thing I don't abide by, however, is that supposedly on the bride's wedding night, the husband beats her to let her know who is boss. No no. But I'm not sure if that is true today, or if they all do it, if so, I would hope that is changed sooner than later.
The ones who give the traveller's a bad name, of course, are the ones who go out drinking and fighting, disturbing the peace. And of course you will find crooks and criminals among them same as those in other cultures. All cultures have bad men and women, sad to say. But it isn't fair to discriminate against all, those who are not.
Something you may not know, the women aren't allowed to go to nightclubs without their men, which I find interesting. But when they do go out, the women dress prevocatively, most likely for themselves and for their own, or for prospective husbands. The weddings are the meeting places for new couples, by the way. People come from all over the country to the weddings. A wedding is a major event.
I find them fascinating. And I find it appalling that they are treated with such disrespect. Most of the families live quietly and peacefully, to themselves, within their communities.
They are human beings after all, just like the rest of us.
It breaks my heart that such prejudices still exist today against a people from Ireland. The Irish Travellers that are depicted in the television series suffer the most discrimination and racism throughout the UK. Today it's as bad as the whites' early prejudices against the blacks in the USA. Signs such as "No Travellers" and "No Irish Need Apply" are indicative of an unmerciful, unkind people.
I know, I know . . . the religious war between the Irish Catholics and the British Protestants was the initial dispute, but for heaven's sakes, what the hell is it all about now? And to top it off, antiziganism (prejudice against gypsies) is dumped on top of the Irish prejudices.
Did you know they have a very strict moral code? They don't marry outside their kind, and divorce is not an option? True, the life isn't for everybody, but those that have chosen it should be able to live as they wish without prejudice.
In the show I watched tonite ... the wedding planner called over 50 venues to accommodate the reception. But as soon as the hotel would find out it was a traveller wedding they immediately came up with one excuse or another to reject them. Their weddings are huge, and some drive their campers, so the venues have to be spacious. Not easy to find the right site because of those two requirements, either.
They finally found a kind soul - proprietor of an animal shelter, a beautiful building by the way - who accepted them and bent over backwards to make it a fabulous and memorable event for the bride and groom. I know that might make you giggle - an animal shelter, etc., but think about it. Regardless of how well it turned out, is that really fair?
I'm really pissed about it all. If it were left up to me, I would go to Wales and England and build centers for weddings, and would rent them FIRST to travellers and gypsies.
Oh, and maybe you've seen the documentaries about the removal of travellers' camps throughout England ... how they are being ousted, their trailers trashed and burned if they don't move at the nearby council's discretion?
It's a human disgrace. It is. I would also go to England and buy up property and build grounds to house traveller trailers and gysies. I'd make the accommodations modern and comfortable for them. I'd plant trees and shrubery around the perimeter so they wouldn't be bothered, so they could live a good life as others do without prejudices.
They're a very proud, colorful, and dramatic people, historic. They love hard, play hard, and live hard. They don't drain the government coffers, they work for their livings, for themselves and others, and they are loyal to their people.
As I mentioned, they have to marry within their ranks, and rarely do they break that code. They are religious, marry very young and have many children. One thing I don't abide by, however, is that supposedly on the bride's wedding night, the husband beats her to let her know who is boss. No no. But I'm not sure if that is true today, or if they all do it, if so, I would hope that is changed sooner than later.
The ones who give the traveller's a bad name, of course, are the ones who go out drinking and fighting, disturbing the peace. And of course you will find crooks and criminals among them same as those in other cultures. All cultures have bad men and women, sad to say. But it isn't fair to discriminate against all, those who are not.
Something you may not know, the women aren't allowed to go to nightclubs without their men, which I find interesting. But when they do go out, the women dress prevocatively, most likely for themselves and for their own, or for prospective husbands. The weddings are the meeting places for new couples, by the way. People come from all over the country to the weddings. A wedding is a major event.
I find them fascinating. And I find it appalling that they are treated with such disrespect. Most of the families live quietly and peacefully, to themselves, within their communities.
They are human beings after all, just like the rest of us.
Friday, January 6, 2012
A Different Kind of Day
Yes, today was a different kind of day ... unusual ... interesting.
It began with 'Oreo' chasing a mouse into my bedroom at 3 a.m., bumping into chairs and tables, skidding across the floor, rattling decor, scratching at cabinets. Of course I didn't know that was what he was after till I turned on the light and caught a glimpse of the little critter trying to escape from Oreo's clutches. One second he'd be caught, the next he'd get away. It went like that, from the bedroom to the kitchen to the living room and back again, till this afternoon when I finally entered the fracas and enveloped the little guy in a Russian Shawl that swags across a chair and put him out the front door. He didn't appear to be injured, just stunned. He disappeared within five minutes, once again happy go lucky. But it was confusing to Oreo, he's been watching the two spaces intermittently - one in the kitchen, one in my bathroom - where mousie would get up under the cabinet and rest, hoping to see him again.
THEN . . . I don't know what got into me today, for I spied a package of raw cranberries in the fridge and wanted to do something with them before they were a total loss, have been here since Thanksgiving. Well, I decided to make some jam or sauce, whatever you want to call it. I boiled a cup of water and a cup of sugar first with a couple tablespoons of ground lemon peel. Then added the package of cranberries (2 cups) and 2 cups of blueberries. I always have blueberries on hand - frozen whole berries. My taste imagination was at work and I added a third cup of orange marmalade to the mix, stirring occasionally over a soft 10-minute boil. I poured the mixture in a glass bowl to cool to room temperature, then refrigerated. Voila! My fabulous Blueberry Cranberry Citrus jam or sauce. And I mean it is good. I put some in a jar to use as jam, and the rest will be used as whatever. I don't know what possessed me to think of creating a recipe. But I'm glad I did. Felt good not to waste the cranberries. And I now have another recipe for the cookbook I'm writing.
THEN . . . the proof of E. Don Harpe's novel NEON RAINBO arrived this afternoon. So I've been doing one last read-through and edit before the launch of the book. It's a paranormal fiction this go 'round for Mr. Don. This one is turning out to be my favorite of his. It really is a must read, guys. Terrific book! Here's the blurb:
MORGAN NICHOLS was caught up by the music same as
the thousands of other hopefuls who came to Nashville
chasing the dream they called the Neon Rainbow.
The rhythm of steel guitars and twin fiddles had been
playing in his head since he was fourteen, and now he was
immersed in the heavy atmosphere at the bottom and craving
the thin, heady air that awaited his rise to the top.
He wanted it all, and he was willing to do whatever it took
to get it, including making a deal with the Devil. The Neon
Rainbow was real, and in a honky-tonk in Alabama that had
burned to the ground in 1957, he reached out and grabbed
it. Now all he had to do was figure out how to hang on to it.
Here's the cover:
THEN . . . I did some accounting, working with Excel spreadsheets, since the annual call came from the tax man. Gawd, I hate compiling all that stuff, although it isn't as difficult as it was at one time. Now I keep a monthly accounting during the year so I have the monthly totals at hand, just need to add them up. Easy, really, to do with Excel. I learned several years ago how to create Excel spreadsheets, when I worked for Barnabey's Hotel in Manhattan Beach. My boss, the GM, was an alcoholic and sometimes couldn't function, so right off the bat he taught me how to do his reports - spreadsheets, 90-day and annual forecasts, budgets, etc. Valuable stuff he taught me. I was his assistant, so that worked out well. Anyway, ever since then I've had several occasions to use that expertise with companies I've worked for, and in my own personal accounting. So today was also an accounting day.
AND ... then there was all the stuff in between. It's been a rather interesting day, as I said.
How was your day?
It began with 'Oreo' chasing a mouse into my bedroom at 3 a.m., bumping into chairs and tables, skidding across the floor, rattling decor, scratching at cabinets. Of course I didn't know that was what he was after till I turned on the light and caught a glimpse of the little critter trying to escape from Oreo's clutches. One second he'd be caught, the next he'd get away. It went like that, from the bedroom to the kitchen to the living room and back again, till this afternoon when I finally entered the fracas and enveloped the little guy in a Russian Shawl that swags across a chair and put him out the front door. He didn't appear to be injured, just stunned. He disappeared within five minutes, once again happy go lucky. But it was confusing to Oreo, he's been watching the two spaces intermittently - one in the kitchen, one in my bathroom - where mousie would get up under the cabinet and rest, hoping to see him again.
THEN . . . I don't know what got into me today, for I spied a package of raw cranberries in the fridge and wanted to do something with them before they were a total loss, have been here since Thanksgiving. Well, I decided to make some jam or sauce, whatever you want to call it. I boiled a cup of water and a cup of sugar first with a couple tablespoons of ground lemon peel. Then added the package of cranberries (2 cups) and 2 cups of blueberries. I always have blueberries on hand - frozen whole berries. My taste imagination was at work and I added a third cup of orange marmalade to the mix, stirring occasionally over a soft 10-minute boil. I poured the mixture in a glass bowl to cool to room temperature, then refrigerated. Voila! My fabulous Blueberry Cranberry Citrus jam or sauce. And I mean it is good. I put some in a jar to use as jam, and the rest will be used as whatever. I don't know what possessed me to think of creating a recipe. But I'm glad I did. Felt good not to waste the cranberries. And I now have another recipe for the cookbook I'm writing.
THEN . . . the proof of E. Don Harpe's novel NEON RAINBO arrived this afternoon. So I've been doing one last read-through and edit before the launch of the book. It's a paranormal fiction this go 'round for Mr. Don. This one is turning out to be my favorite of his. It really is a must read, guys. Terrific book! Here's the blurb:
MORGAN NICHOLS was caught up by the music same as
the thousands of other hopefuls who came to Nashville
chasing the dream they called the Neon Rainbow.
The rhythm of steel guitars and twin fiddles had been
playing in his head since he was fourteen, and now he was
immersed in the heavy atmosphere at the bottom and craving
the thin, heady air that awaited his rise to the top.
He wanted it all, and he was willing to do whatever it took
to get it, including making a deal with the Devil. The Neon
Rainbow was real, and in a honky-tonk in Alabama that had
burned to the ground in 1957, he reached out and grabbed
it. Now all he had to do was figure out how to hang on to it.
Here's the cover:
THEN . . . I did some accounting, working with Excel spreadsheets, since the annual call came from the tax man. Gawd, I hate compiling all that stuff, although it isn't as difficult as it was at one time. Now I keep a monthly accounting during the year so I have the monthly totals at hand, just need to add them up. Easy, really, to do with Excel. I learned several years ago how to create Excel spreadsheets, when I worked for Barnabey's Hotel in Manhattan Beach. My boss, the GM, was an alcoholic and sometimes couldn't function, so right off the bat he taught me how to do his reports - spreadsheets, 90-day and annual forecasts, budgets, etc. Valuable stuff he taught me. I was his assistant, so that worked out well. Anyway, ever since then I've had several occasions to use that expertise with companies I've worked for, and in my own personal accounting. So today was also an accounting day.
AND ... then there was all the stuff in between. It's been a rather interesting day, as I said.
How was your day?
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