Humor

computer-23713_640I was watching the news the other night and found out there are words you’re not allowed to say if you’re over thirty. Since I am over thirty, I paid close attention. The newscaster informed me there would be a list and proceeded to count them down. I’m sure there are more words I’m not supposed to say but this list only had three.

I had to Google the first word, totes, because I had no idea what it meant. Oh, it means totally! Here’s the definition straight from the Urban Dictionary. A shorter more convenient form of the word: totally. This word is most commonly used by teenage girls.

The most obvious advantage of using this word is the time saved. Data collected at a prestigious university found that every syllable spoken takes approximately 0.14 seconds.

Didn’t know it was such a timesaver. I’d put it on my list but…oops, can’t.

The next word (it was really a phrase) that flashed across the television screen was You know, right? I’ve heard that many times, although I never used it myself. Didn’t know it was popular slang for the under thirty crowd. Crossing it off my list right now.

The final word was cray-cray. That one makes my head hurt. I have to admit I heard that come out of a certain reality TV mom’s mouth (mother to many girls with the first initial K) and I cringed when I heard it. That was a fine example of “leave it to the kids”. But hearing it said by anyone drives me a little cray-cray. See, didn’t you just cringe?

So there you have it, the list. Totes. You know, right? And cray-cray. Feel free to pass it along to other thirty plus members of society. If you’re underage (thirty, that is) you can ignore.

Whenever I write, I try to pay attention to words, phrases and sayings. Would she/he really say that? If a character is old, I guess they can get away with anything. I try not to make younger ones use too much slang. It can become outdated in a minute.

I hope this was helpful to the intended audience. That means you, Over-thirties. I know keeping track of the latest trends may make you a little cray-cray. You know, right? But it’s worth keeping up with what’s happening in the world. Don’t you agree?

Totes.

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Fall-Winter Nov. 12 (9)

The trees are throwing up their branches in confusion. They’re saying, “What the?”  We’ve had early snows in Northeast Ohio but rarely a late fall. When the two collide, is it Flinter?

The autumn leaves stuck around late this year. In fact, the trees didn’t show signs of changing colors until mid October. By then, we’re usually raking up the bulk of them. Even as I look out the window today there are remnants on some branches.

Imagine the surprise of waking last week to Flinter! The sun was shining and it was a glorious morning. Snow glistened on the lawns and stuck to the branches of the trees. The odd thing about this picture was most trees still had their leaves. It was November twelfth!

Our part of the state was not the only place to get snow that day. The front dropped snow on Chicago and headed east to the Atlantic coast. We all were included in this wintry blast.

Using the seasons in a novel takes a little research, especially if you don’t live in that part of the country. Accuracy, I feel, is important. I always take into consideration that temperatures can be inconsistent year after year, but still want to be true to the climate. Authors have the right to change things up. Cold climates can have a balmy Christmas. It happened here one year. We still talk about the Christmas it was seventy degrees. Other times, Spring may not appear until the first of May. Sometimes we feel it may never stop snowing. Weather is a fickle friend. You can’t always count on it. But this year, was the strangest I’ve witnessed.

Maybe a few more seasons need to be invented. Then we won’t feel so disappointed when the snow falls on beautiful autumn trees. We can just say, “Hey, it’s finally Flinter!” We could enjoy that April snow shower just a little better if it had a name. “Oh, that happens a lot. It’s Snapril.” See? Don’t you feel better already?

Now that I’ve invented Flinter, feel free to use it whenever you like. I hope one day I pick up a book, start to read and the very first line say, “It was a dark and stormy Flinter.” That would make my day.

 

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I was never good at creating a costume. Those plastic masks and tie-on outfits were the go-to costume of the day. Boxes and boxes of them lined the store shelves, waiting to be chosen. I preferred those small masks that went across your eyes that were red or black or any solid color. The easiest costumes of the day were ghost and hobo. I don’t think I went as either. I can hardly remember what I dressed as and there are no pictures to remind me.

My son was very creative when it came to Halloween and still is to this day. He always knew what he wanted to be. We did a few store bought costumes like Darth Vader but he liked to make his own. Frankenstein and Dracula came to life with his own creative touches. Even as a small boy, he planned out his wardrobe. Doctor for Preschool, Fireman for trick-or-treating. I have trouble thinking of one idea and he had two!

There was one big difference between the Halloween I celebrated and his. Parents now had to be on high alert, taking some of the fun out of this once-a- year thrill. Safety first is definitely a must but I never checked my candy or feared someone would sabotage it when I was young. When the first stories of razor blades or drugs appeared, it was a sad day for Halloween.

But now back to the fun stuff. I have two stories from back in the day I’d like to share. One’s a scary memory and the other is funny.

One family, down the street, loved Halloween–the scary kind. I’m a PG rated Halloween girl, no thrills and chills so this is my scary memory. On that night, we could always hear screams coming from that house…some from the trick or treaters and the rest coming from inside the house. My sister and I would meet up with other neighborhood kids and stand on the sidewalk gazing at the house. Large trees dotted the front yard, making it harder to see what was going on. Kids would come running down the drive, laughing and yelling. I could never tell if they enjoyed what happened to them or not.

I never went to that house to trick-or-treat. I did find out what made everyone scream. As kids walked to the door, a large ghost dropped from a tree, landing right in front of them. Startling, I’m sure. I never wanted to find out how startling it was and never approached the house. It was scary enough standing in the dark listening to all the strange noises.

My favorite Halloween memory is trick-or-treating at an elderly woman’s home. We hardly saw her the rest of the year. She lived alone and kept to herself. On Halloween her light was always on. She’d come to the door with a giant bowl of candy corn with a large spoon sticking out from the center. She’d grab the handle, scooping up a heaping mound of the mouth-watering morsels and my eyes would light up. (Remember, this was back in the day when it was okay to hand out apples and loose candy.)

The old woman would then begin to shake the spoon. She’d shake and shake until there were two of those kernels left. Then she’d dump it into your bag. We never missed her house in all those years of trick or-treating. I guess we hoped one day we’d get that giant scoop thrown in our bags.

She reminded me of one of those fairytales villains that looked normal at first but as they did their wicked deed they’d turn into an old, weathered form of themselves, like a witch. That’s as scary as my Halloween got. .

I hope you have a few good memories tucked away that you can pull out this season and laugh and reminisce about. I think the real idea of Halloween is to be able to step away from your everyday life for just one brief night and face your fears, laugh till your sides hurt and eat some candy. I recommend starting with two candy corns. They’re the best.

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chefs-hat-23436_640My father always cooked breakfast on weekends. He’d also fire up the grill for steaks or barbecue chicken and stand over them like he was the master chef.

My husband does the same thing. He makes breakfast on weekends–makes a mean pancake–and mans the grill for just about anything we cook. I didn’t think much of it at first. I grew up with a man who did the cooking and met another one who didn’t mind to cook. I realize now I’m a little spoiled.

Naturally, I had to have my main character’s father comfortable in the kitchen. He’s ready to lend a hand no matter what time of day it is. He’s into natural ingredients and will jump in the car to get a fresh piece of fish to cook for the family.

More and more men are into cooking these days. When I was younger, it was woman’s work. Julia Child was on the scene and women wanted to emulate her. Now there are TV shows galore showing men whipping up all kinds of dishes. I like that. Nothing wrong with men knowing how to cook.

My son has jumped on the cooking bandwagon. He’ll help out in the kitchen when the mood strikes him. When he was away at school, he bought himself a good knife and a cutting board. He swears by them. They usually come out front and center when he’s involved in a recipe.

The first time we cooked together was right after he came back from school. The recipe called for chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. Since my husband and I aren’t fans, I would’ve made the meal minus the peppers. My son wouldn’t hear of it and insisted I buy them. He would cut them up.

After opening the can and dumping them on a plate, we couldn’t stop laughing. They reminded us of something that was not food and had more to do with a bodily function. He took pictures and posted them on Facebook having people guess what they were. No one could. The meal was finally prepared after all the antics. My husband came home from work and we shared our story.

My son dubbed that adventure, The Matt and Mom Cooking Show. We’ve had more that followed, some just as funny. My only regret is I wish we really had them on film. We have many videos of people blowing out candles for birthdays or ripping open packages on holidays. Nice to have but sometimes you feel you’re on repeat as you watch.

I wish I had pictures of my dad at the stove, whipping up the scrambled eggs. I’d put it with the one of my husband pulling the Thanksgiving turkey out of the oven. Then next to them, I’d place the picture of the chipotle peppers. It would be a great trip down memory lane.

Hopefully, one day my son will add to my fantasy picture album. His son would have to go a long way though to top his dad’s photo but if he’ll be anything like my son, he’ll make sure he does.

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Call of the Canyon is now on Amazon with paperback still to follow. Second in my Young Adult series, Waiting for Dusk. There. I’m done advertising. Well, not really. I’ll give you a sneak peek of what’s to come.

Two Lives…
Two Worlds…
Heartbreak awaits.

Exciting, right? Well, you have to like young adult fiction and be into romance and fantasy and time travel. If not, that’s okay.

Writing comes easy. It’s the promotion that’s hard. Trust me, I know. I’m a reviewer, too, and I see all the emails that come into the website’s mailbox. I’ll share a few funny ones with you.

One person started his greeting with he’ll take any kind of review–good, bad or indifferent. What? Really? He’s been sitting in the queue for months; no one’s touching that one. Still there, as far as I know.  I wonder why? I want someone to wish with all their might for a good review. Be sure of themselves but just not over the top.

Another person almost made it to my review folder until I got to the bottom of the email and checked out his list of rules. Rules? You don’t give the reviewer rules! Sorry, back to the main list, let someone else deal with your rules if they want.

The “Hey, what’s happening? I have a good book for you to read” is also a turn-off. Remember when asking anyone to read your book, blog, news article, be respectful. The reviewer will appreciate it and give it proper consideration.

So I’m not going to ask you to read my book at all costs, even if it’s not your genre or interests you and may give it an indifferent review. I won’t give you rules or ask you what’s happening. I’ll just respectfully ask, if it interests you, please take a peek. And if you do, I say this with tongue-in-cheek humor; I may become your new favorite author.

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dentist-158225_1280There’s a character in my book that needs to get put in his place. He’s handsome, popular and good at sports…feels entitled. You know the type. Something needs to be done to put him in his place. I’ll have to talk to the author.

I have my fair share of “getting put in your place” stories but I think you’ll enjoy the one I’m about to share, especially with “Back to School” right around the corner. It happened in my second grade classroom.

Being a young teacher, I was full of ideas. I liked to think I had the best lessons planned for the day and the children would always be captivated. It’s exciting when you see many hands in the air, asking questions and participating.

After one great lesson, in my opinion, a few hands shot in the air. I called on some of the children but noticed one in particular. The dark-haired little girl’s hand wiggled wildly and her eyes sparkled with excitement. I told myself that she really got something out of the lesson and couldn’t wait to hear her question.

When I called on her imagine my surprise when she asked, “Are those teeth?” She pointed to the long necklace dangling from my neck. In my defense, wearing a long string of beads was popular back then. They were a pale yellow of smooth, unusual shapes.

I looked down at the necklace and back up at her. Was she fixated on those the entire time? Did she hear any of the great lesson I just taught?

Oh. My. Gosh. I was just put in my place. And I had to laugh. We all began to laugh that day because it was funny. Did she get anything out of the lesson? Probably not.  Maybe getting put in your place once in awhile causes one to do a maintenance check. It was a great reminder. Sometimes we need to be put in our place.

I never wore those beads to school again. Every time I opened the drawer where I placed them, they seemed to be smiling up at me, winking as a reminder.

So what did I learn that day at school?

The first was a life lesson. Don’t ever get too full of yourself.

The second was a school lesson. Don’t ever think a lesson was absorbed into children’s minds in just one great lesson. It might take a lot of smaller, review sessions to  break through or finally sink in.

And last but not least the third and final lesson. Don’t take life too seriously because you may just miss the humor of it.

I learned a lot that day. Sometimes it’s okay to be put in your place. Plus it’s never too late to learn a valuable lesson, no matter how old you are.

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all-my-children

I’ve been asked if there’s a lot going on in my head and if it’s getting a little crowded in there. When you write books, people tend to ask things like that. They want to know where I got my ideas or how I can write an entire book.

The short answer is, “I don’t know!” That’s not the answer people want to hear so I will try my best to explain.

They are not books to me, they are my children. I send them out into the world and hope for the best, for everyone to like them and think I did a good job raising them. If I hear bad things about them, I get hurt feelings, but also look to how I can improve my skills as a parent. When I get compliments, I burst with pride.

These kids fight with me, sometimes I win and other times they get their way. I suggest a certain outcome and they insist on going in another direction. I may have plotted their course but they seem to have other plans. I hopefully will always know the beginning, middle and end but it’s the parts in between that make life interesting.

I say them when I talk about my books, even though I have an only child out there now. Soon more will join it, as recently as September and as late as next January. Am I nervous to send number two and three out there into the cold, cruel world? Absolutely. It’s just as nerve-wracking as the first time I sent my child out there on its own.

Will there be more beyond that, you ask? How can you fit any more into that brain of yours? Well, like any good parent, there’s always room for one more. I just hope everyone will keep enjoying all my children.

 

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Do yprincess-and-the-peaou ever wake in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep? Your mind is going ninety miles a minute? I used to dread when it happened and called it The Princess and the Pea syndrome.

You know the old story. A wife is needed for a prince and his mother piles stacks of mattresses on top of each other. Under the bottom one, she places a pea. If the girl feels the pea during the night, she’s the next princess!

The one, true princess finally comes to town and spends the night on the mattress tower. She, of course, cannot sleep because the pea keeps her awake all night. I wouldn’t have slept for fear of falling off the bed, but that’s another story.

So now you can see why I’ve labeled sleepless nights as The Princess and the Pea syndrome. If I tell my husband that, he immediately knows I tossed and turned all night.

Since I’ve started writing my mind wakes me up more than when I taught. Instead of labeling it a curse, I’ve decided to look at it as a blessing. It’s when I do my best thinking.

My husband informed me I should keep a pad and pencil under my bed to write my thoughts down so I don’t forget. Easy for him to say as he snores away and I’m searching for my glasses in the dark. Ever try to write in the dark? It looks like a five-year-olds, who’s just learning to write. It’s crooked, overlaps and is much larger than your usual printing.

So when I have to really write something, I slip into the bathroom, flip on the light, sit on the edge of the tub or pull down the toilet seat and begin to jot down my thoughts. In the morning I admonish myself for writing like I was still in the dark.

Usually the mind calms down after writing. I also remind myself that I can sleep in now, no more alarm clocks. Sometimes it works. Other times, I think someone snuck in while I was in the bathroom writing and stuck a pea…just one tiny little one…under my mattress.

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TwitterbirdTitles don’t come easy to me, thus the unforgettable one today. They have to be catchy and still match the story…or blog. I should be better at it because we tend to make up names for lots of things in our family.

One I’ll share today is the dreaded Chirp-athon. My husband aptly named it because starting in the spring, right through summer; the birds begin a chorus of chirps kicking off around 5 a.m.

Now if you’re sleeping, you’re golden and never know it’s happening. But if you’re awake for any reason, you will not be serenaded back to sleep, you’ll just lie there and pray it ends…soon. I can tell you first-hand it lasts over an hour, is very loud and then suddenly everything falls silent. I guess the birds are done singing their anthem, “The early bird gets the worm”, by then and fly off to begin their day. I’m left staring at the bedroom ceiling.

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Our favorite Chirp-athon is when one bird decides to sit right outside our bedroom window. It sets up a mic stand and surround-sound speakers. We don’t know if it’s a special guest star or one-time appearance because it doesn’t happen too often, thank goodness. It’s like having our alarm clock set for 5 a.m. No sleeping through that.

I guess if we didn’t see the humor in it, it could drive us crazy, and families need that…both humor and a little crazy sometimes.

They also need buzz words, or fun sayings, in their lives…a phrase or word that can bring smiles to their faces or make them recall a certain memory. Something only the family knows the meaning of and the outside world has no clue.

So after coming up with these catchy words and sayings for years, I have the dreaded title block as I have come to call it. It’s like writer’s block only different. I keep telling myself it will come to me, keep writing, but it doesn’t. When I finally do get a brainstorm, I go to Amazon to check if there are any similar titles. If I see ten books with the same heading, I don’t want to use it anymore.

So what am I to do? Wrack my brain, read a thesaurus, Google words or pray for divine intervention? I don’t know what the answer is. Frustrating as it is, I know I’ll keep trying but there’s just a little piece of me that wants to throw up my hands and say, “Oh, this is for the birds.”

Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try!
— Dr. Seuss

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My mother blamed the return on my father. She said he was allergic. In hindsight, he probably was because it seems I’m allergic to everything now. Found that out later in life and maybe would have sooner if we had kept the little ball of fur.

Dad was a good father and even with his aversion to cats, he let his girls have their wish. Mom is the one who put her foot down and said the cat had to go. She wasn’t an animal person at all. That was the family’s first experience with a pet.

The next time I was allowed to have a pet was for one of my birthdays. I may have been in Junior High School, a preteen, at the time and so excited to finally have a dog in my life. We went to the Animal Protective League—a shelter for dogs and cats. I picked out a little pup that looked like a beagle and immediately named him Snoopy. I loved the Peanuts cartoon and Snoopy was my favorite.

Snoopy, the puppy, was a crier and our family wasn’t schooled in how to train a pet so there were lots of bathroom accidents in the house. I woke up one morning to find Snoopy in a large wastebasket. My mother put him there because she didn’t know what else to do. Snoopy’s days were numbered after that and I think he lasted about three days, too. He was taken back to the APL and I said a tearful good-bye.

Don’t worry; there is a happy ending to this story. I got my wish of having a pet. It finally happened when I graduated from high school. My boyfriend got me a French Poodle. He kept Pepper at his house until after my party. His mother said she’d keep him if I wasn’t allowed. That may have motivated my mother to try harder this time and Pepper made it past the three day test. In fact, my mom pretty much let him do anything he wanted and my dad indulged his every whim. He ended up being their dog more than mine. It was a good thing because Pepper kept Mom company until his final days after everyone moved out of the house and Dad passed away.

I have to think long and hard before I put pets in any of my books. I feel the dog or cat or bird (have to give a shout out to mine) has to have a reason for being in the story. I don’t want to place an animal in the story “just because”. I have dogs in my Waiting for Dusk series but they’re not front and center. They do have a reason for being there. Lindsey, just like me, longs for one but her mother is not a pet person. Everyone at the ranch in Arizona has a golden retriever and she’s jealous. Maybe one day, she’ll have one, too.

For now, I need to find a way to get a little lovebird in one of my stories. That’s not an easy thing to do. My bird is quite entertaining and loves people. She doesn’t talk but responds to us in other ways. She swings her swing on command and turns upside down to make us laugh. Don’t know how that would fit in a story. It probably would have to be a talking bird to make it work.

If I do put a bird in my story, I know the first thing I’d have it say…“I hates cats”. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Thanks for the saying, Dad. You were always good at coming up with the funniest, most unique sayings that I’ll never forget. But most of all I’ll remember you wearing my furry winter white hat that tied under the chin and had white pom-poms on each end to take Pepper for a walk in the dead of winter. Now that might make a good story.

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