Oh, Those Cowboy Heroes!

MEMORY MONDAY

This blog post was swimming around in my subconscious yesterday morning as I woke up.  I don't know where the thoughts came from, they were just there, and they seemed perfect.

I grew up back in the 50s and 60s, when television was still black and white for anyone who wasn't filthy rich.  An only child in a middle income family, with two working parents--something of an oddity at the time--and an imagination that bubbled over would be a good description of me.  I grew up watching cowboy shows, because those were the shows, in addition to the Mickey Mouse Club and Captain Kangaroo, that were available the most.  

Howdy Doody, up there, with Buffalo Bob Smith, along with Clarabell the Clown, Mayor Phineas T. Bluster, Flub-a-Dub and more, kept kids in the Peanut Gallery entertained with puppetry and silliness.  (For those who don't know, Clarabell was played by Bob Keeshan aka Captain Kangaroo.)  To be honest, when thinking of all those Westerns I watched as a little girl, Howdy didn't even come to mind.  GASP!

I knew I'd forgotten many of the shows I watched, so it was Wikipedia to the rescue!  There were adult Westerns and kid Westerns.  Of course I was drawn to the kid ones at an early age.  I did a quick count of the early shows and came up with some thirty-five Westerns I watched on a regular basis from the early 1950s to the early 1960s.  Keep in mind that back in the olden days, we had THREE channels.

So here we go with a list: (Most watched in bold)

The Adventures of Jim Bowie     The Adventures of Rin Tin Tin     
The Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok      Annie Oakley     Bat Masterson  
Broken Arrow     Bronco     Cheyenne     Circus Boy     Davy Crockett      Death Valley Days    
Dick Powell's Zane Grey Theatre     Fury     The Gabby Hayes Show      The Gene Autry Show    Gunsmoke     Have Gun Will Travel     Hopalong Cassidy     Laramie     Lawman     The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp   The Lone Ranger     Maverick     My Friend Flicka      Rawhide  
 The Rebel     The Rifleman    The Roy Rogers Show     The Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Show   
Sky King     Sugarfoot     Texas John Slaughter     The Virginian    Wagon Train     Wanted: Dead or Alive   Zorro

Annie Oakley was one of my favorites.  She could ride and shoot like any cowboy.  Rin Tin Tin was a beautiful German Shepherd dog that saved Rusty, the little boy who was a part of the cavalry, and anyone else who needed saving. (Think Lassie.)  Fury and My Friend Flicka were all about a boy and his horse.  Or two boys and their horses, as it was.  Hopalong Cassidy was just, well, Hoppy, and I rarely missed it.  I still remember that big ol' white hat he wore.  The Lone Ranger?  What female's heart didn't pound at the sight of that masked man.  And Tonto, played by Jay Silverheels, wasn't all that bad, either.  Which brings us to Maverick, and I still adore James Garner and always will.  Sky King flew a plane and had a neice named Penny.  I was envious.  Zorro, too, had a mask, and was a part of Disney.

Fess Parker played both Davy Crocket and, later, Daniel Boone.  Circus Boy starred a little boy named Mickey Braddock, who later became Micky Dolenz of The Monkees (1960s music group, for all you youngsters).  Stars were born.  Stars faded, and some went on to other things.  Tom Tryon (Texas John Slaughter), became a author, writing Harvest Home, The Other, and Lady.  The first of those was a terrific horror book, similar to Stephen King's writing.  Bronco actor Ty Hardin's real name is Orison Whipple Hungerford Jr..  I learned that when I was 10 and he was a teen heartthrob.

Those were the good old days.  The good guys won, the bad guys lost, and the cowboy always got his girl.

Yes, there are many later TV Westerns not on the list.  Bonanza, The Big Valley, The High Chaparell, Here Come the Brides (considered a Western, but set in post-Civil War Seattle), Lonesome Dove, and many more.

How many did you watch?  If you're too young for many of these, ask your parents if they watched.  And head on over to Wikipedia for a full list of TV Westerns.


It's fun to take a look back at the things we enjoyed, long ago.  There's a lot of difference between then and now, and we don't see nearly the Westerns on TV or in the movies as we once did.  But we do see a lot of Cowboy Heroes in romance books.  I wonder how many romance authors were raised on the Code of the West as I was?  Is it any wonder I have a soft spot for a soft-spoken, well-mannered cowboy?

The good old days are now. ~ Tom Clancy

Counting Our Blessings and Joys

FRIDAY FREE-FOR-ALL
It's been a busy week.  It's been a crazy week.  It began with waking to snow on Monday morning, after a weekend of beautiful, but windy, Spring weather.  Temps in the low 80s were a blessed relief from the colder temps.  I was finally thawing!

Because my youngest granddaughter would soon be arriving for me to take her to Pre-K, but I couldn't find the ice scraper (the snow had obviously started as freezing rain), I used my fingers and fingernails to clear the snow and ice from my windshield.  Not a smart move.  Ten minutes later, my fingertips were so cold that I couldn't feel anything except the burning.  A bit of frostbite?  Maybe, and it took until the next day before they felt close to normal.  Lesson learned?  Yes.

Tuesday was Tax Day, and my focus all day was on that.  My taxes were filed and the first of quarterlies were sent.  But before I knew it, the day was over, and I went to sleep exhausted.  Mental work is exhausting!  Add my tendency to be math-challenged, and...  You get the picture.

Wednesday was spent catching up on what didn't get done on Tuesday.  It also brought a bright spot I nearly missed, if it hadn't been for an email.  My critique group met, and three of us shared our writing, and our thoughts (and complaints and woes) on writing.  To help one of our group, who hasn't been writing as much as she should, we decided that meeting every two weeks wasn't enough, and we'd be meeting weekly, at least for a while.  To be honest, it's as much for us as it is for her.  We all often need a push to do the things we've been putting off.  I'm certainly guilty of that.  The bonus of this is seeing friends more often.  Aha!  A blessing!

Then along came Thursday, and another day was gone before I knew it, and now Friday is here.  I ask myself what I've accomplished this week.  On the surface, it doesn't seem like much--except for those taxes finally getting done.  But looking back, I've been reading more than usual.  More non-fiction than fiction.  I've been learning...about myself, who I am, and how to make life better.  By better, I mean more positive than negative.

It seems that too many days go by without memory of what happened.  Nose to the grindstone sometimes means not seeing or experiencing the small joys in life.  And once that happens, we lose ourselves, seeing only the negative things or simply being relieved that we made it through another day without disaster striking in one form or another.

We all struggle with something.  I've been allowing myself the pleasure of reading, done while waiting for grandkids to be released from school and less than an hour before my go-to-sleep ritual.  I'm learning how to deal with things I struggle with.  I'm learning that I'm important.  I'm learning to focus on the good things and expect those struggles to right themselves, if only by turning some of them to blessings.

There are many joys in life.  Sometimes we forget to notice them.  The opportunity to read is one of mine.  Like the little girl in the image above, I've been a reader all my life.  As an adult, it's been my go-to reward, many times. It's also a gentle reminder that time spent reading is a blessing for my soul.  It lifts me up, takes me to places I've never known, and expands my understanding.

If you haven't given yourself the gift of reading lately, pick up a book and start reading.  Even if it's only for a few minutes, it's a blessing.  Blessings are our Joy.

What blessings have appeared in your life lately?  What has brought you joy?

Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has purpose. There are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from. ~ Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Still Hooked (Spoiler Alert)

MONDAY MADNESS
"Holy Krypton, Superman!"

Oops, I've muddled my comic book superheroes, but you get the idea.

Three years ago, while channel surfing one night, I accidentally caught a glimpse of Game of Thrones one TV.  I was as hooked then as I am now.  In fact, nearly a year later, I blogged about it on my now defunct Scribbles blog.  That blog post, entitled, I'm Hooked--GoT Got Me, tells how I was immediately drawn into the award winning series.  I haven't missed an episode yet, and it would be difficult to tear me away from it each spring for the few weeks it runs.

As a rule, I'm not a fan of bloody battles and naked bodies, but GoT grabbed my interest (hint:  it was the dragon eggs) and has kept it for over three years.  From the very beginning, I've been waiting for Joffrey to get his just desserts.  Would that moment ever come?

If you saw last night's episode, you saw that "just desserts" is exactly what Joffrey got.  What a weaselly little king!  The character you love to hate.  I've been hoping that something atrocious would happen to Joffrey.  Something like being tied to the side of a mountain, where the birds would pick him apart, much like Prometheus.  Or maybe flamed by Daenerys's dragons.  Sadly, it wasn't quite so dramatic, but the demise of Joffrey was still delicious.  Kudos to Jack Gleeson's amazing acting talent on making it that way.

Naturally, Tyrion Lannister has been accused of the deed--by his sister Cersei, of course.  As far as amazing acting talent, Peter Dinklage rules, no matter what character he plays.  As I commented on Facebook, I'd watch him eat a potato chip, he's that good.  Such a wide spectrum of emotions his face shows in every second of film.  But there isn't an actor on the series who isn't completely believable.  Such an excellent cast!

I'm break down and buy the books.  The first three, to begin, and the others when I get through those three.  Reading time is limited, and I already have more than I'll be able to read in the next ten years.  But I have no doubt I'll enjoy the books and hopefully be able to keep all the characters straight.  Thank goodness for cheatsheets!

What's your secret, guilty pleasure?  Your favorite book or TV series?

"A mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone, if it is to keep its edge.” ~ George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

Another Step Back

1915 Library

I honestly can't remember a time when I didn't read.  I don't necessarily mean literally read.  My much younger days, even before learning the alphabet, included a large stack of Little Golden Books.  Although I only have a couple of them left, I remember the drawings in them, if not the words.

But it wasn't only those cardboard and colorful children's books I read.  There were trips to the library.

The other evening, a friend and I were talking about the big library downtown.  She never went as a child.  I went quite often.  I loved going to the library.  Not only for the books, but because of the atmosphere.  Walking up the stone steps to the door always gave me a flash of excitement.  Stepping through the door, the scent of books, the sound of footsteps on the marble floor, and the sight of the John Brown mural would come together to remind me that, once again, I'd be finding a story that would take me into another world or make me live as another person.

Library reference desk

In 1876, local business owners funded the establishment of the library. It became a Carnegie library in 1912.

Inside the doors and ahead was the main section of the library, with its hexagonal reference desk.  To the right, marble slab steps led up to my destination, the children's room.  As I climbed them,  my footsteps echoed in my ears.  "Whisper," my mother would remind me, as we reached the top.

Children's room

I don't remember all the tables and chairs in the children's room.  What I remember were the rows and rows of bookshelves that filled the room.  I knew exactly where to find the books I wanted to read.

My favorites.

In first grade, I read both of them, while sitting at home with the mumps at Christmas. 

 And let's not forget the Bookmobile that brought new books to our schools and offered us more to read than what our small, school libraries could contain.

To move the thousands and thousands of books from the original library, students formed a brigade, passing the books to the new library across the street..  Novel idea, isn't it?

In the summer, we take my grandkids to one of the branch libraries and participate in the summer reading program.  It's nice there and has a fairly large children's area. If only we could teach the four of them what QUIET means, we'd have it made!

I miss the old library.  It sat empty for several years, but is now occupied by a financial group.  I don't think I'll miss the current library nearly as much, if at all, when an even newer library is built on the river bank.  Although the opening date for that was in 2012, I'm not even sure ground has been broken.  That library promises to be even bigger and better.  For me, it own't have the memories the old one still does.  Isn't that the way it always is?

Take care of all your memories. For you cannot relive them. ~ Bob Dylan

Monday Mania

That cute little graphic on the left isn't as generic as many might think.  There's no reason why it shouldn't be.  But...

For the past few months, I've been watching college basketball.  More precisely, my two favorite teams, the Wildcats (Kansas State University) and my hometown Shockers (Wichita State University).  I've been a WSU fan for much longer than I've been a KSU fan, but because they're in different conferences, it's okay.

KSU didn't do too badly...playing at "home."  However, road (away) games gave them trouble.  WSU, on the other hand, hasn't had that problem.  The now 34-0 team is ranked #2 in the nation.  How do they do it?  They play one game at a time.  It's a "we'll win this game and worry about the next one when that first one is over."

I think that's a pretty good way to live our lives.  One day at a time.  One game at a time.  One play at a time.

Why worry when there's nothing we can do about tomorrow, except finish today by living it the best we can?  Funny that I would say that, since I've become a worrier over the years.  I'm trying to get control over that, so when I realize I'm back to worrying--about bills, the age of my car, the weather, my family's problems--I stop and remind myself that worrying has never changed anything---except maybe make things worse.  I'm working hard to turn my negativity to positivity, too.

I'm also trying to regain my sense of humor.  Somewhere along the line, it's all but disappeared in many facets of my life.  I've been working on that, too.  And believe it or not, it's tied up in those basketball things.

How so?  I've been reading the WSU chats/boards/whatever on ESPN.  There are a lot of KU (Kansas University) fans, who hate and despise anyone but KU.  I'm not a KU fan and haven't been for a whole lot of years, but I wouldn't saunter over to the KU chats/boards/whatever on ESPN and post obnoxious comments about how bad KU teams are.  (KU isn't all that bad, so why lie?)  I have my reasons for not being a KU fan, but they're my reasons, and I doubt anyone really cares what they are.

Which brings me to how badly people now believe in "public."  Not the real public, but media provided by the internet.  Whether it's my-school-vs-your-school or my-political-party-vs-your-political party or anything else you can thing of, this big old world has shrunk to the size of a...computer.  How does this tie in to regaining my sense of humor?  By watching some of the most disgusting comments ever posted on FB, ESPN, Twitter, Amazon reviews, and every other type of "social media" or whatever venue is available to voice an opinion.  If I don't have anything nice to say, I don't say it.  Usually. ☺

People seem to like to denigrate others, and the only reason I can find for it is that some people feel the need to bash someone or something else to make themselves feel superior.  Frankly, I don't enjoy spitting venom at others.  You see, my opinion is my own.  It may not be the same as yours.  In fact, if it is, the reasons for it may not be the same.  My opinion is worth as much as yours is, and yours is as much as mine is.  Do I think my opinion is right?  Sure I do.  I'm human.  But I've never found arguing or forcing others to agree with me, when they really don't, all that uplifting.

One of my favorite pieces of writing is the Desiderata.  It begins with this:

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

The Desiderata was quite the thing back in the 60s.  Those "hippie" days.  But the above makes good sense.  I'd like to post it as a comment on some of those social media places to remind people that a) we all need to get along, and b) each of us has the right to an opinion, but try speaking it "quietly and clearly," lest you show your hate.

The Wichita State Shockers will be playing in the NCAA Basketball Tournament.  Will they win?  I hope so!  But it's basketball.  Anything can happen.  Even a 34-0 season.  Hey, Shockers, I'll be watching!

We may have our private opinions but why should they be a bar to the meeting of hearts? ~ Mahatma Gandhi

Crunch Time

It seems as if I'm always crunched for time, but right now, it's at the point of crucial.  Deadline looms for the last of the Desperation books.  I'm a scene + one chapter + an epilogue from having it written.  That will be done by the end of the week, but then there's editing and polishing.  Deadline is the 24th.

This past weekend, I'd planned to be much closer to being finished.  Weekends are usually my best time to get caught up on word count.  Not this past Saturday and Sunday.  I'd forgotten about college basketball.  I didn't even make a note of it, and the schedules I'd printed seem to have buried themselves under quickly scribbled plot notes and snips of dialogue. When I realized my beloved Wildcats were playing, it was far into the game.  And since two granddaughters were here for basically the weekend (more bad planning on my part) and had commandeered the TV, I watched the last half of the game on my computer.  The game wasn't going well, so I missed the last few minutes to switch to another.  Thanks to friends on FB, I realized that my beloved #4-in-the-nation Shockers weren't playing in the evening, but were just beginning their game.  It wasn't televised, so I listened to the play-by-play on the radio.  This game had a much better outcome, with a 23rd straight victory.  GO SHOX!!!  But then that other State university was playing yet another beloved team, the Longhorns, and UT was leading by a wide margin at half-time.  Obviously a must-see and well worth the time.  I giggled for a couple of hours over that one.  An impromptu dinner at oldest daughter's house took up most of the evening, but I came home and hit the keyboard, at least finishing two more scenes.  Can we say 'dedication?'  Can we say 'panic?'

My intention on Sunday was to bury myself in getting words on paper.  I ended up spending more time on line edits for the August book than I'd planned, and time went by without much notice...except for that nagging in the back of my mind that I really needed to finish the line edits and get cracking on that new manuscript.  Then came the sad news that Philip Seymour Hoffman had died, as I eagerly awaited 8 p.m., when the CNN documentary, The 60s: The British Invasion, a lead-in to a new series, was to come on.  But PSH news kept that from happening, and it wasn't until 10 p.m.that the CNN docu finally aired.  I'm really looking forward to the full CNN The 60s series in May.  I truly enjoyed The British Invasion, listening and watching all the great bands and music from that era and how it all shaped, not only the music of today, but the world.

So this is my life at this point.  The usual running back and forth to schools to drop off and collect the g-kids, checking Facebook off and on during the day, and racing to that deadline.  A threatening snowstorm over the next few days may put a crimp in my crunch if school is closed due to weather.  Which would be better?  Refereeing 5 kids or having to drive through snow to get them to and fro?  Something tells me I won't get to choose.  Mother Nature sometimes has a lousy sense of humor.  I'm working on mine. ;)

The thing that would most improve my life is 27 hours in a day. I could meet all my deadlines. ~ Yoko Ono

Or not. 

A Little History of Home

Campbell Castle 1890

Call me weird, but I have a thing for history.  Local history, to be precise.  There are two places that tickle my interest.  One is Wichita, the city where I was born and spent my childhood.  The other is Clearwater, where my mother's family settled, after immigrating from Germany and where I finished growing up.

The reason for the first is probably because my dad told stories about Wichita when he was growing up.  Born in 1910, he remembered things that are no longer there.  Theaters, drug stores, street names that were changed along the way.  Later, after I married, my dad and my grand-father-in-law, who were only a few years apart in age, would sit and share memories.  Of course I don't remember everything, but all of them fascinated me and made me aware of how history changes.

1885 Occidental Hotel 

Last night, my #3 daughter tagged me in a photo on Facebook, with an old photo of a building that was known as the Occidental Hotel.  According to the information where she found the photo, the hotel "was one of the Old West's most famous and grand hotels in its day. The Occidental played host to numerous notorious guests (including General Sheridan and outlaw Frank James) and the storied poker games of Room 12."  That set me off to visit the website where the photo had appeared, and I've now wasted spent at least an hour looking at Then & Now photos.  I've driven by the "Now" building many times and knew it wasn't new.  What I didn't know was the history behind it.

For the past three or four years, I've gone on a local "ghost tour" of an area of the city that wasn't a part of the city in the beginning.  The Arkansas (pronounced Ar-kansas', not like the state ☺) River bordered the original town/city on the west.  Beyond that was an area known as Delano. Infamous for gunfights, brawls and prostitution, the river kept the notorious out of Wichita.  In fact, guns were checked at the bridge before entering Wichita from Delany. (photo below)  Yeah, gun control in the 1800s. ☺  I never new about this, until I went on the first ghost tour with my youngest daughter. We've since dragged other family members along with us, but that first visit was the best. There's a story about an 1873 gunfight between two saloon owners, "Rowdy" Joe and "Red" Beard, in which Rowdy shot and killed Red.  During the ghost tour, this is one of the stories that's told.  Red's ghost still haunts one of the buildings that is now a hair salon.  Many of the buildings there now were built in the 1870s.  While Wichita has it's Cowtown Museum (a living museum of original buildings moved farther up the river and includes re-enactments of the time), it's exciting to hear and read the stories and see photos of the "other" Wichita, especially because I spent my childhood only a few blocks south of Delano and never knew the history, although I'm sure my dad mentioned it.  These days, the Delano District includes shops, businesses, restaurants and art galleries.  A wonderful place to visit.

Wichita (now East Wichita) on the left, Delano (now West Wichita) on the right

My dad also talked about Ackerman Island, situated in the middle of the Arkansas River.  (large island on the middle right)  Not just a simple island, it held an amusement park, complete with a roller coaster.  A drive along McLean, which I take often to go to the far west side of the city and follows the west bank of the river, now shows a completely different river.  No islands, no old boathouse, where people rented small boats, canoes and paddle boats.  I can only imagine what that might have been like.

While Wichita doesn't have the history of Boston or Charleston and cities along the east coast and south, it does have some some interesting stories.  Okay, a lot that are interesting. :)  Carrie Nation visited our fair city and smashed a bar in one of the local hotels, for one.  Then there's Rowdy Joe and Red Beard...  Ah, history.

Just another look at my childhood memories and far far before that.  Check into your own hometown history and see what you can find.  You won't be disappointed!

The past actually happened but history is only what someone wrote down. 

~ A. Whitney Brown

Monday Blues, Rock, or Whatever

My parents were music lovers.  Married in the 1940s, they were fans of the Big Bands.  Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey and Jimmy Dorsey are among the bands I grew up listening to.  They also had collections of Classical music and Country/Western.  I even had a thing for Opera for a while in grade school.  I've never been to an opera. *grin*

I love music!

I've lost count of the number of songs on my playlist, probably because my taste in music is very eclectic and I listen to a lot of different types.  Of course I prefer some music over others, and I haven't been listening to very much of the current crop of hits.  I'm too busy enjoying what I know and already have.

Music, even the weepy songs, lift me up out of the doldrums and bad moods or helps with de-stressing during "one of those days."  It helps me relax and go to sleep at night.  I use it while writing and, yes, have made playlists for each book.  Those playlists sometimes have duplicate songs, here and there, but usually the music has something to do with the characters or the story.  An especially snappy tune will get me on my feet.  I love to dance, too, so the two go hand in hand.

A year-and-a-half ago, when I walked two miles each morning, I took my Mp3 player that included "walking" music.  Fast tempo stuff that forbade a leisurely stroll.  Was it the walking or the music that made me start my day on a better note than if I didn't walk?

I played piano, flute, and even taught myself to play a guitar (badly).  I sang in Glee Club and Mixed Chorus and have a 1st place gold medal from a music contest when I was part of an octet in high school.  I can't carry a tune in a bucket these days, but singing along with a little Simon and Garfunkel isn't out of the question for me.  Or the Beatles or Beach Boys or the Carpenters or...  It's impossible to keep from tapping my foot to bit of music...even a TV commercial that includes music with a good beat.

The speakers in my car are dying a painful death, so listening while I drive isn't done often.  But if I find myself feeling down, I'll turn it on, in spite of the crackling from one side or the other.  Music rarely intrudes on my thoughts.  It adds to them.  Makes them better, makes them clearer.  Whether the music has lyrics or is strictly instrumental doesn't really matter.  It makes the heart sing.

There's no such thing in my life as a favorite song.  There's far too many to choose from.  I'd have to pick 3 from column A, a dozen from B, and a few from C.  No, it can't be done.

Do you have a favorite song?  Or favorite type of music to listen to?  Or are you eclectic, like me?  Give a shout out!  But shout loud, because I'll probably be wearing my earphones. :)

Music in the soul can be heard by the universe. ~ Lao Tzu

The Seasons of our Minds

I started to write this about my favorite season, Autumn, but when I sat down at my keyboard this morning and read the 110 words I'd written, I decided to start over.  We do a lot of that, don't we?  Starting over.

There's nothing wrong with starting over.  It doesn't necessarily mean we give up on something else.  What it really means is that we want to do something better than we did before.

Seasons of nature are always a special time, especially for new beginnings.  Starting over is a part of that.

Last week, I worked on my current WIP, a full proposal for the last book in my Desperation, Oklahoma series for Harlequin American Romance.  It's rough draft stage, so I try not to go back and make big changes.  Well into the second chapter, I had to leave my desk several times to do my daily chauffeuring.  Autumn means school days, as will winter and spring, and I spend a third of my daytime sitting in my car and driving to and fro.  That time sitting is often spent writing or editing.  So with the extra time that day, I started writing a scene in longhand.  After I got home and had some quiet time, I keyed it into a Word document and continued, thinking I'd done a good job.  By the next day, I realized the scene didn't work.  I'd gone off course from my basic idea.  I ended up scrapping it and starting over with the original idea.  Time wasted?  Not at all.

Sometimes our minds instinctively know what's right and what's wrong.  At other times, our minds may take off on a new road or go back and choose a different one.  It may be a smooth road, and it may be a rough one.  The only way to know is to take it.  I drove down what I thought was a smooth road, but it started getting bumpy.  Nearly to the end, I realized I had to start over.  When I did that, everything fell into place on a much smoother road.  There's nothing wrong with starting over.  Tell yourself that and you'll find new freedom.

Autumn is my favorite season.  I think that's because I remember the excitement of school starting after a long summer of too much freedom.  It meant seeing all my friends (and not-so-much-friends) on a regular basis.  I love the colors of autumn.  They invigorate me and make me want to make changes and start new beginnings.  Whether it's the colors of the leaves changing and the grass hibernating, or the new, crisp, colder air that inspires me to make changes, I'm smiling.  This is nature at its best.

This year is especially special.  I'm re-discovering the beauty of autumn.  For the past few years, we've experienced a drought, and the changing of the leaves had been a bit disappointing.  But this year, we've had rain.  The drought is over and nature is in full bloom.  As I drive along the riverbank to drop off or take the kidlets at their grade school or drive through neighborhoods with Maple and Oak trees among the usual Elms, I'm blown away by the vibrant shades of red, orange, yellow leaves that were green, not so long ago.  I need to remember to take my camera, but even taking pictures can't catch the breathtaking beauty of nature this autumn.

Life, too, has cycles, just as our days and seasons do.  At times we're forced into change, but even when it feels uncomfortable or is caused by something we believe isn't good, we eventually adjust and make things better.  We start over, we find a new beginning, and we enter a new season of life.  Make this new season the very best.

Every corny thing that's said about living with nature - being in harmony with the earth, feeling the cycle of the seasons - happens to be true. ~ Susan Orlean

'Twas the Night Before Halloween

'Tis the Eve of the Eve.  All Hallows Eve, that is.  Yes, tomorrow is Halloween, the time of ghosts and ghouls, princesses and ballerinas, ninja warriors and transformers.

Halloween has become my favorite holiday.  Usually it's spent watching television and answering the door once or twice.  There aren't many trick-or-treaters in our neighborhood, so a big bag of candy would last for years...if not eaten by my own g-kids.  But a tradition of watching favorite Halloween movies is as good as it gets.

This year I've chosen two movies.  Hocus Pocus and Practical Magic.  After all, it is the season of the witch.

I remember walking through my neighborhood as a child, accompanied by the older next-door-neighbors, collecting a large paper bag of goodies that seemed to last forever.  My mother nearly always made my costumes.  Homemade were always the best.  I was a monkey, a bride, a clown, and more than I can remember.  There are home movies I can watch, if I really wanted to a list.  Maybe next year.  The most

memorable Halloween was the year I was a Pilgrim/Dutch Girl.  Yeah, a bit weird, but the costume resembled that of a Pilgrim, complete with a yellow pig-tail wig, and those older-than-me neighbor's let me borrow their grandmother's wooden shoes for the evening.  They weren't all that comfortable, either.  We stayed within our own block, both across the street and the street behind us.  Two blocks of goodies, and everyone had something to pass out.  As we approached one house, a witch appeared from the side of it, scaring me.  I truly believed it was an old, scary witch, and I took off running for home and screaming.  In the process of trying to run in a pair of too-small wooden shoes, I lost my hat and my wig, arriving home frantic, crying, and shouting that a witch had tried to get us.  My dad looked at me and said, "Looks like you lost your hair and hat, too."  Devastated that I'd lost part of my costume, I begged him to go back for it, but to watch out for the witch.  I waited, afraid the witch would catch him, but he returned some fifteen minutes later, with Pilgrim hat and wig in hand.

I hit the age of twelve, grew up, and had just moved to a small town.  Life changed and so did Halloween.  But life in that particular town was exciting.  Pumpkin patches were raided, and the main street was littered with smashed pumpkins.  An outhouse or two was stolen and placed in the center of town.  Small fires and bales of hay littered the street.  Costumes?  Who needed them?  They'd have only been covered with eggs.  By the Halloween of my senior year in high school, the Sheriff's Department sent officers on horseback to corral the destruction.  But we were smarter and managed to make Halloween memorable.

I married, had children, and found myself creating costumes for my own girls, just as my mother had for me.  We often used items we already had or old fabric left from my childhood.  My youngest's first Halloween was spent as a Gypsy, created from odds and end of clothing we had.

Over time, as more daughters were born and became old enough to knock on doors, we went along with one of their cousins, in the tiny country town near where we lived.  By then they'd become fairly good at minding their manners with "Trick or Treat" and "Thank You," as we visited the homes of friends, family and neighbors.  During all that time, we went through a wide range of costumes.  Devils and angels, a tough kid with a black eye, a cheerleader, a ballerina, and an Indian Princess.  (That's the boy cousin during one of his robot phases).  The last costumes I made were four genies, all in different colors.

My girls grew up and had their own little Trick-or-Treaters, and at times, I was coerced into making a few costumes for them.  There are five to created for, and it can take some time an imagination.  Although we'd planned a Peter Pan theme this year, time got away from us--thanks to that family wedding less than two weeks ago--so we're sticking to face painting only, this year.

2009 with all 5 g-kids and oldest daughter

2011 in full costume and looking great!

2012 and, oh, how they've grown!

Not too bad for a group with different tastes and desires, not to mention from help from Goodwill and anything we found around the house, some years.  Yes, that's my crew, who are here to drive me to cackling.  An almost 12-year-old, an almost 11-year-old, a 9-year-old, 6-year-old, and the youngest is 4. 

I haven't dressed up for Halloween for a long, long time.  I've been too busy with costumes for the others to have time to think about me.  But this year, I was invited and attended a party at the home of a local author friend.  Just dressing up at the last minute, grabbing this and that from my closet and painting my face was fun.  The party proved even more fun!  Maybe next year I'll give more thought to it.  The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe, Maybe?  It's a thought...

Enjoy your 2013 Halloween, whether you're partying, escorting off-spring or off-spring of your off-spring around the neighborhood, or simply sitting at home, thinking of the times gone by.  Because it's believed by some to be the night the veil is lifted between our world and the world beyond, think of the loved ones you've shared with on some of those past Halloween nights.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

But I love Halloween, and I love that feeling: the cold air, the spooky dangers lurking around the corner. ~ Evan Peters 

Soothing the Savage Pre-Holiday Insanity

If the weather hadn't suddenly decided to turn colder and yesterday hadn't dawned with snow (barely) covering the ground, the idea that Christmas is only a few days away would be either laughable or a total shock to the system.

Oh, we've been working toward the insanity of the holidays.  There was Thanksgiving...which is barely a misty memory.  And there's been the shopping.  Even last night Mallory and I were buying a few more mini-bows for packages.  The tree has been up and decorated since...well, whenever the Heisman Trophy winner was announced...and wasn't Collin Klein.

I admit I've lost track of time.  Deadlines are part of the problem.  The last was just a week ago.   And although I shouldn't admit it, I'm not a big holiday person.  I'm not sure why.  I loved holidays as a child...a teen...and even a young adult.  Somewhere along the line, something caused me to adopt a slight Scrooge-view of the winter holidays.  However, I do try.  In fact, I decided I needed to put on my jingle bells.

Music.  Christmas music.  From Trans-Siberian Orchestra's A Mad Russian's Christmas to Gene Autry's Frosty the Snowman to The Carpenter's Carol of the Bells and I'll Be Home for Christmas and back to Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite.  Those are my jingle bells.  This year it started later than usual, but only because I've been focused on so many other things.

Yesterday Mallory and I attended the program at the elementary school where the four oldest of the g-kids attend.  Kindergarten through fifth graders gathered in the gym-sized lunch room, along with tons of family and friends.  It was a real crush. ☺  Afterward over an hour of listening to their Christmas songs, we gathered the two boys to take them home, while the two girls went to their after-school activity.  To my surprise, I was given a stack of twenty thank-you cards from the third grade class where I gave a talk on writing last week.  I still smile when I think of those hand-drawn cards and hope I encouraged those who are sometimes too afraid to share their dreams and ideas on paper.  And gave them a tiny glimpse into the world of published writing.

All of this is a round-about way of saying that music can often make a huge difference.  Of course choosing the right music matters, but when it comes to Christmas music, it's really, really hard to keep the spirit of the season--no matter what the holiday and in spite of sunny, warm weather--while listening to favorites.  Ooooh!  Harry Connick, Jr singing Let it Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow.  What gets better than that?

Once the holidays have past, I'll be back on a regular blogging and writing schedule.  In fact, after Christmas we'll get started again on setting goals...because it's THAT time of the year again.

'Tis the Season to Listen to Our Inner Silence

MOTIVATION MONDAYS

I'm one of those rare people who finds beauty in the starkness of winter.  While I love the brisk air and the scents and colors of autumn, it doesn't last long, and I'm left with something close to the picture on the left.  There are only a few remnants of the leaves that are still barely hanging on.  The year is doing much the same thing.  It's speeding right along to the end, ready to begin again on January 1.

It's a hectic time of year, these days between Halloween and New Year's Day.  Women, especially, are faced with the dilemma of finding enough time to do it all. As I mentioned in a previous blog post, that can be eased by using KISS and delegating.  This year, I discovered that there seemed to be only a blink of an eye between Halloween and Thanksgiving, when in reality it was a full two weeks.  I suspect I'll feel the same when looking back to Thanksgiving from Christmas.  As it is, life seems to move fast, and age makes it seem to go even faster.

Between now and the first of the year, we'll be running at top speed, hampering any thoughts other than those connected to menus, recipes gifts, decorations, cards, and all the rest of the trimmings of the holidays.  There are so many things on our lists of things to do that we forget to take a moment for ourselves or even to breathe.  But we can do something about that.  In fact, we need to do something.

• Turn off the TV that blares Buy This! every fifteen minutes.  Try it for 10 minutes.  Try it for 30.  
• Take a walk and let your mind wander to anything but the have to do's.
• Daydream.  And if you don't remember how, it's time to relearn.
• Put on some music, either soothing or upbeat, whichever makes you smile.
• Start a journal...or morning pages à la The Artist's Way.
• Start a Blessing Box or Thankful Jar.
• Meditate or learn how to meditate (There are free guided meditations online, just do a search for them.)
• Breathe  and breathe again.

We have a new dog, something I said I'd never do again, but this one desperately needed a new home.  So Max, the Pekingnese, has become part of our family.  Either my daughter or I take him outside several times a day.  One of the things I've noticed as I stand in the backyard is that I can hear the leaves falling.  Yes, really hear them drop from the trees and hit the ground beneath.  And yet I know that in the spring they'll be replaced by a new growth of buds that will begin the cycle of life, once again.  It's humbling.

Take some time to breathe and enjoy a few quiet moments of this special time of year.  Stop and listen to your inner silence.  Doing so will not only help you find peace in chaos, but possibly a moment of joyous illumination in your life.

We need quiet time to examine our lives openly and honestly - spending quiet time alone gives your mind an opportunity to renew itself and create order. ~ Susan Taylor

When Your Motivation and Creativity Need a Boost

MOTIVATION MONDAYS

Life has been getting in the way lately, so I'm behind on blogging.  In fact, I nearly skipped today, but something came through in my email that caught my attention.

iVillage.com often has some great motivation tools for a variety of things in our lives.

• Need some decorating or storage ideas?  
• Need some motivation to exercise?  
• Need some tips on making your relationships better?  
• Need tips on healthy foods?

iVillage will send you an email on the latest tips and tricks for all that and more.

Today's topic is 10 Ways to Boost Your Creativity, and here are the highlights:

1. Break Your Routine
2. Do It
3. Daydream
4. Brainstorm
5. Interact with People
6. Schedule It
7. Expand Your Experiences
8. Reflect
9. Relax
10. Change Your Space

Those are just the tip of the iceberg.  Use the link above or below to see it all.

# 10 is what I did this weekend.  I moved most of the furniture in my office.  With colder weather coming on, I decided my desk in front of a window might not be the best idea.  Too bad I didn't have time to do some painting!  Now I get to spend the rest of the week (and weeks to come) sorting through all the boxes and containers to throw out the things no longer needed or wanted.  I'm hopeful I can downsize, which in itself will mean less clutter and more room to CREATE!

Be sure to visit 10 Ways to Boost Your Creativity at iVillage for more information on each of the 10 Ways listed above.

"You can't wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club." ~ Jack London

Refilling the Well

WRITING WEDNESDAYS

Whether we write or have a day job or are busy raising a family, we all need to take step back once in a while and give ourselves the gift of doing nothing.

Before going any further with this, let me state that "doing nothing" isn't necessarily what it sounds like.  There's a whole range of possibilities and each of us should take the time, now and then, to explore some of them.

For the past six months, I feel like I've been going non-stop.  That could be because I have, in a way.  The grandkids, who had been staying at home with their dad who'd lost his job several months before, returned only two weeks after I'd set deadlines for two new books.  I'd become accustomed to not having them around, except to pick them up from school and take them to their home.  I'd forgotten how crazy life can be with them around.  My schedule and goals took a beating, and it's been crazy, but somehow I've managed to stay on course...or close, anyway.

The time of meeting deadlines will ease soon.  I'm wrapping up the last of what's needed on A NANNY FOR THE COWBOY, out in March next year, and hope to have the last chapter of DESIGNS ON THE COWBOY, June 2013, written well before the upcoming holiday weekend is over.  That will ease the pressure, and we all know how important that is.

While I admire those who are like the Energizer Bunny and never seem to run out of steam, I have a deep, dark suspicion that what we see isn't what's really happening. Why?  Because everyone needs some time to refill the well.

I'd never heard that term before, until I heard Kathie DeNosky use it back in the late 90's, when we were both struggling to sell our first books.  Kathie had been at the writing game a few years longer than I had, so she became my guide in everything writing related.  She taught me about the need to stop the insanity and refill the well that empties without us noticing when we have our nose to the grindstone.  (How's that for mixed metaphors?)  I do have to say that she didn't have to explain what "refilling the well" meant.  I got the meaning immediately.  It was the "how" that had me stumped.

Reading has always been an integral part of my life, but once I began writing, the reading time began to shrink, little by little.  Now just reading a handful of books a year is difficult.  There are those deadlines and all the other things in life that need attending to.  I envy writers who have the time to read the work of others, while moving forward with their own writing career.  I wish I could do the same.

Because I can't pick up a book every week or two and devote time to immersing myself in the worlds of other writers, I have to remind myself that it's important to take a break, no matter how short, and do some reading.  Time for that break is coming up very soon.  By next week at this time, I hope I'm in the midst of it and enjoying it.  It's time to refill the well.

As that special time grows closer, I've been thinking more about it lately, and I realize that there are other things to enjoy, in addition to reading.  So here's a list I've come up with to try, just for me.

10 Things to Do to Refill the Well

• Find a quiet spot to think or just "be"
• Spend time with friends, both writing and non-writing, especially ones I don't see often
• Sleep or take a nap without interruption
• Go outside and watch the clouds drift by
• Find a place away from the street lights--away from the city--to once again enjoy the beauty of the night sky
• Take a leisurely walk in the park, not for exercise or any reason other than the sheer joy of it
• Go to the park and swing
• Sit by the water and listen to the sounds it makes
• Find a new and unusual shop and explore
• Watch favorite movies for a full day

That's my list. What's yours?

The ultimate in refilling my well:

Well it's not far back to sanity, at least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away and find serenity
Oh, the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see.
Believe me. ~ Christopher Cross, "Sailing" Lyrics