Whass Happnin

The end of the beginning is in sight: My book has been sent to the printers for the "real" book to be done. I received the hard proof and spent a great deal of time going over it. Made a few corrections and now it's sent back.

Who knows? We may be birthin' a book in the next month or two.

Mother turned 89 Monday. That makes me old and her really old. But like she said, she never expected to still be here, and who knows? She might still be here next year.

I am leading a workshop on writing come September 15. I think we'll have some fun. I am no means an expert, but I've been 'round the publishing block a time or two, and I am old (as mentioned in above paragraph), so maybe I have a bit to offer. I'm certainly looking forward to sharing and learning a thing or two myself!

We hope we might even get a real 3 day vacation in the next month or two, it's been about five years. I can't travel far, but a few hours I can manage. More about that will be revealed, if it ever even happens. I ain't packed my suitcase yet!

Well, I guess that's it for the day. Just wanted to send an update on the lifestyles of the unknown and unfamous.

Va-ca, As They Say

I've been on a mental vacation.

Go ahead and say it. Make fun. How can anyone tell the difference with me, blah, blah, blah.

Ha. Ha.

Anyway, the book is now off to the  printers, I've picked up a manuscript for a novel I was working on before I started on this last book that's about to be released,  and am "thinking on it", but really just being lazy.  It's nice to do that sometimes.  

So, instead of working on my own novel, I'm reading the latest Stephen King novel. 

Wowzer. Who dun it indeed.  I'm not finished, but will probably do so today. 

Then, maybe, just maybe, I'll get back on the treadmill and start to work on that idea that might be a novel.

But only maybe.

This Hurts Me Worse Than It Hurts You

There is nothing, I tell you, nothing, that will humble you more quickly than having a photo made of yourself that's supposed to look good enough to go on the back of a book.

Lord have  mercy.

Husband took about elevendy billion shots, and the  more he took, the grumpier I got.

I'm old, okay? I don't like this. Plus it makes  me  hurt worse.

Husband kept saying, "Your face is showing your pain. You are going to have to be an actress and pretend everything is great."

I won't repeat what I said.

Anyway, out of all those photos, we narrowed it down to 3. And the three got narrowed down to one. 

But my hair looks almost orange because we had to darken the photo because I'm the whitest white that ever whited.

But my publisher, Mr. Magic, fixed that.

So it's as good as it gets, folks.

And that ain't so good.

Tombstone: Not Pizza

Do  ya'll have any  idea how heavy a tombstone is?

Whew!

Good thing all I was doing was supervising. 

The interesting thing is the really old ones don't look all that heavy.
Maybe three feet high and maybe two inches thick. It looks like you could pick it up, tuck it under your arm and walk away.

Nope. Nah. No way.

Husband, who I have seen pick up a 110 pound Daughter who was about to faint, could barely lift this. I suggested he roll it, head over foot down the cemetery hill and then maybe pull it into the car.

This took several minutes, as we were parked at the foot of the hill,
and the tombstone was leaned up against an oak tree at the top of the hill.

Now, it may have occurred to you to wonder what the heck we are doing stealing  borrowing a tombstone.

I mean, it's not an everyday occurrence, and it ain't anywhere near Halloween.

It just so happens the tombstone belonged to Lizzie McGuire. No, no, not that  Lizzie McGuire - the one that Daughter used to watch every afternoon after school- but my Lizzie McGuire.

No, this Lizzie McGuire, (given name Elizabeth Hulsey), was my great-great-grandmother. I didn't know she was buried in this cemetery until a few months ago. Her daughter is the only great-grandparent I knew little about, because, unlike all my other greats, she was born in Dawson County. Through a lot of weird stuff, one of my very distant relatives contacted me. She told me that Lizzie was buried there, and that a newer tombstone had replaced an old one. 

Well, we couldn't find the newer one where her grave is, though it did give me the opportunity to visit my great-great and my great-great-great grandparents graves, who are also buried there. (Yes, we left their tombstones.)

We began to imagine what Lizzie would think for all our effort. She may have laughed or she may have shed a tender tear.

But for me - somehow I couldn't just let that old tombstone finish out in the weather. It's in bad enough shape as it is.

Rest in Peace, Lizzie. I'll take care of the tombstone.

Lizzie, wife of William McGuire, Born Dec 4, 1851 Died Mch 29, 1905. A tender mother and faithful friend.

Would it be that could be said of us all.

Life in General and a Commercial (Ain't that life?)

I've been noticing life around me lately. 

That's a change, because I've been doing the old nose at the grind stone thing  lately, trying to get this book ready for the publisher. 

It's done except having my picture struck, which I reckon I will do Monday.

Ugh.

You  may be like all these other people who are taking selfies all the time and think it's a grand thing to see their mug plastered all over Facebook, texts, twitter, snapchat and whatever the heck else there is.

Not I, friend. Nope, nope, nope. I hates it, my precious.

You may have noticed it's rained here enough to float the ark. But today the sun is out and our tomatoes are turning red. I picked a few beans to go with the other handful I picked a few days ago. There might be enough that  maybe Husband and I won't have to fight over them.

On another note, I saw on the news the other day that a fella asked his mother to play the lottery for him. He carefully gave her the numbers he wanted played. She wrote them down.  

She wrote them down wrong.

She proceeded to go to the store and buy a ticket for him. Using numbers unknown to him. 

She won $100,000.00.

I bet he ain't mad at his mama.

So, commercial time!

Wait! Come back! It won't take long.

My new book coming out: "Poetry, Prose and Music: Life of an Appalachian Woman" is a whopper. No wonder I'm tired.

It's over 400 pages long filled with the funny and some sad, some light hearted mess and some introspection. Some of it rhymes, some of it doesn't, just like life. There are fifteen short stories, a few not very short. A few of these blogs you've read over the years are in there, as well as some "essays" that have been published elsewhere. A few short stories have won contests and been published. I even got money, people! And there's a great deal of photography included. Some of it quite good. Those are probably the photos I didn't take. 

And at the back, a musical CD. Three of the songs are written by yours truly. Some are contemporary Christian, a few old hymns. Daughter sings a solo and two duets with her dear old mama. Daughter also did the artwork on the CD. Show off.

I'll keep you posted (you were afraid of that) as to the progress and when it's done and when book signings will commence.

Commercial over.

So, have you read any good books lately?





















fifteen short stories

No complaints

I try not to complain. 

Even if, because of the storm, our electricity was off 38 hours. It went off at 3:00 a.m. on Saturday morning.

Husband got up after daylight and cranked the generator.

It died.

Husband went to town to buy ice so we could use a cooler, and ice down the freezer and put ice in the fridge and save as much as we could. 

And to purchase lots of bottled water. And go to Mother's and get ten gallons of water to flush toilets.

Our electricity came back on Sunday evening. 

The water was as muddy as a creek after a hard rain.

Husband went down to change the filter.

Mud gushed. Water quit.

Our phone went dead.

We finally got someone here to check the water pump - which just happens to be 397 feet underground - late Tuesday afternoon. They had to take two sections of the iron fence out, carefully back their truck between that space and a healthy dogwood. The mudslide had been so powerful in the well it had knocked the pump off and loosened a wire.

For hours after it was repaired, our water ran  muddy. Sinks, toilets and tub were full of mud and black dirt. I didn't think it would ever come clean again. Thank the good Lord for Comet.

Then we shocked the well. (this statement makes me giggle)

We ran outside faucets, indoor faucets, hot and cold water. Ran the dishwasher and washing machine. We still didn't smell bleach like we were supposed to. The water was still dingy.

But slowly the water cleared. NOW it smells like bleach. We can't drink it. But thank goodness we can use it for everything else and it's as clear as glass. Well, not my glass, but somebody's clean glass.

Between Mother and myself, we have had five doctor appointments and two Texas cousins visiting. 

But I'm not complaining. 

Really.