Don't Play With The Equipment

I went to a doctor’s appointment the other day. And guess what? I had to wait. I know, I know, you’ve never heard of such a thing. That’s why I’m telling you about it.

 Over the years, I’ve waited about twenty or thirty minutes for this doctor. So Tuesday, after forty minutes, I tapped on the receptionist’s window and asked, “Is there a problem? I’ve been waiting forty minutes.”

 She replied, “I don’t know. The doctor must be running late.” (Oh, duh. Ya THINK.)

 I pointed to the sign that hung on her window that read:
IF YOU ARE FIFTEEN MINUTES LATE, YOU MAY BE ASKED TO RESCHEDULE
 And said, “Because if we’re fifteen minutes late, we have to reschedule.”

 I don’t think she liked that very much.

 Within ten minutes, I was called back to the examination room. Where I waited.

 And waited.

 After fifteen minutes I was so damn bored.

 Then I saw it.

 The gooseneck examination lamp.

 I reached over and switched the light on and off, and on and off. Then I twisted the gooseneck up and down and around and back again. Then I dropped my hands and swung my legs and adjusted my lovely paper nightgown. But my eyes were drawn back to the lamp.

 I switched it back on and aimed it toward the wall where it cast a bright circle of light. I placed my hand in front of the bulb and tried making an animal shadow puppet. I sucked at that. But I was good at making a pretend mouth, though.  So I made it talk.

 It said, in a deep tone, “Doctors shouldn’t make you wait and if they do make you wait, they should let you know if they are going to be longer than forty-five minutes. And if they are longer than forty-five minutes, you sh—”

 The nurse walked in and looked at me as if I had three purple heads.

 I flicked off the light, dropped my hands back to my lap, and said, “I had to amuse myself somehow. You don’t have a television back here.”

 “There’s some magazines,” she said, pointing to a stack of dog-eared magazines, at least a year old.

 “I don’t like magazines. They’re crap.”

After giving me another strange look, she told me the doctor would be with me in a few minutes.

 The doctor came back in forty-five.

 I guess my definition of few and the medical profession is completely different. Too bad I can’t apply their few minutes to my daily life and mine to doctor’s appointments and work.

 Oh, and if you expect me to wait, and don’t want me to play with the equipment—install a television with cable.

 

Sneak Peak At Heritage And Honor

I mentioned that I’m writing a novel. Well, I want to give you a little excerpt from one of my chapters. My story takes place in 1887 Montana and the working title is Heritage and Honor. Here's a synopsis:


Donning trousers and wearing a gun wasn’t conventional in Charlotte Mason’s world. But how else could she rope and brand cattle? Besides, Charley wasn’t a conformist. Although the traditions of family, truth and honor were as much a part of her as the Montana earth she was raised on. She’d be damned if the two men claiming to be her brothers would destroy any of it.

 Morgan Ramsey and his brother Warren knew the only way they’d get their revenge on the Mason’s was to strike from the inside. They had it all planned too. But Morgan hadn’t reckoned on Charley. She made his blood ride high. Now he had more secrets to keep than he cared to count. Each day with the Mason heiress brought him closer to damnation—or was it salvation.





  From Chapter 3:

       Charley gained a foothold on the pond’s rocky bottom. She freed her face from long, wet strands of hair, then looked at the man standing on shore.
     His arms were crossed over his wide chest, his legs in a wide stance. He was the handsome stranger from the saloon. Charley’s legs turned to jelly as she precariously balanced on jagged rocks. “You! What are you doing?”
     “I was riding by and saw a horse. Then I saw you. Thought you might need rescuing.”
     “As you can plainly see, I’m in no need of saving.” As soon as she finished speaking, Charley slipped on a rock and went under water. Resurfacing and spitting water, she heard his rumble of laughter. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
     “Really? Are you sure you aren’t drowning?” His taunting grated on her nerves, especially since she was naked and shoulder deep in water.
     “I’m sure,” she told him through clenched teeth.
     He uncrossed his arms.“Perhaps I should assist.” He took a step forward.“In case you go under again.”
     Charley held up her hands. “That won’t be necessary. I can assure you.” 
     “I wouldn’t want—”
     “Do you mind?”
     His eyebrows creased. “Mind what?”
     She smacked the water with her hands, making a splash that didn’t reach him.“I’d like to get dressed.”
     He laughed, then looked around until he spotted her clothes. He walked over to the pile and picked it up. “These yours?” He held her clothes in his hands.
     “You know they are.”
     He smiled. It worked slowly across his face until it reached his eyes, leaving a devilish flicker. “You want them? Come get them.”
     Charley wanted to slap the grin off his roguish face. But the gauntlet had been thrown and Charley didn’t run from a challenge. She took a deep breath, to give herself inner strength, then slowly walked out of the pond, her eyes locked with his.
    His smile disappeared as he watched her walk onto the shore. His mouth and jaw tightened when she stopped and stood in front of him.


 

Catch Me & Please Pam

I told you my husband is a clown. He’s always joking around. Even when I tell him something serious. I also think it’s a gene he passed on to our sons. The monsters darlings will ask me why I don’t joke around more. My answer? Someone needs to be the adult in the house.

 However, I do get a kick out of my husband’s texts. It’s been a while since he’s sent me any I could lol about.

I think he’s part bear. He doesn’t hibernate in the winter, but he should, because he’s grumpy. We don’t have warm weather yet here in Pennsylvania but we’ve noticed something rare in the sky lately. It’s big and yellow and it radiates light. Oh, wait, I remember now, it’s the sun! And I’m pretty sure it’s making my grumpy husband happy, because when I sent him a text Friday asking if he wanted to go out to dinner, here’s what transpired…

 David: Sure. I would capture all the sun’s rays if it would please u. 
Me: I’d rather have moon rocks. 
David. I’m on my way. Not sure if I will be back in time 4 dinner. 
Me: No excuses for missing a dinner date. 
David: I’ll be there. 
Me: Ok. But no more playing. I have to work. 

 Now Dr. Laura says a man loves you if he’s willing to swim through shark infested waters to bring you an iced tea. I’m betting a man loves you if he’s willing to get close to a 10,832 degree ball of fire merely to please you.

Although a vanilla latte would be nice.

 I’ll put in my order via text.

 

Almost There

You may not know this, but I wrote a novel. I did. A long time ago. That novel has been through a couple creative writing courses with me and a couple evaluations. I stuffed it in a folder and put it in my file cabinet.

 It sat.

 And it sat.

 Then last September I read something that said write what you like to read. I knew my novel’s conflict and plot were what I liked. After all, I wrote them. So I pulled out my manuscript and read it. 

I laughed.

To keep myself from crying.

 There was no freaken way any agent would sell it.

 It’s not a bad story line, but I was telling, not showing. It needed some major editing. But where the heck could I get help?

 Aw, Google!

 I found Critique Circle, and I joined. At first I only critiqued. Then after a month, I got up enough nerve to post my first chapter. I have to tell you, I received more information and knowledge about writing from that chapter than all the courses I had taken! I was hooked. So I posted chapters two, three and four. And the results were the same. Great advice and suggestions. I took those four chapters and the suggestions I received and got to work.

 I am proud to say that I just finished chapter twenty. I’m almost done—ten more to go! That might not seem like a big deal to some. To me. It’s a huge deal.

 I have no idea where this will lead. In my heart of hearts, I hope publication. My dream has always been to get a book published. However, once it’s complete—I mean really complete—I won’t be afraid to let people read it. I’ll probably threaten beg people to.

 Right now, I’m proud I got this far. Writing a novel is a long process, even if you love writing. I’ll be even more proud when I polish off the last ten chapters. I say this because as I’ve told you, I don’t manage my personal time very well. I suck at it, truth be told.

 Maybe one day I’ll be asking you all to read my completed manuscript. Or better yet, my book. That would be so awesome, yes?

 Until then, wish me luck on these last chapters.