Monday, April 25, 2016

Tuesday Tales and a Little Pill

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- pill This will be an excerpt from Twister Fate, my new WIP for a new romance contemporary.

Enjoy!~

Strolling into the kitchen, I wondered if she had a guilty conscience. “What’s up?”
Not missing a beat, she continued chopping vegetables, throwing a question back at me. “Did you have a nice visit with Violet?”
“More than just nice, it was enlightening. She was so forthcoming about how you called Conner to come see me after I got home. Really? Why did you do that? What made you do such a thing?”
That made her stop chopping. “I was worried about you. I knew he was a huge support to you in the hospital. Why do you think I didn’t visit much?” Mom was the one giving me up, telling on me. She’d contacted Conner, trying to help me with life…Garrett…loss. I should’ve known it was her.
“Because you didn’t want to make that long drive all the time?”
“Oh, good grief, I didn’t care about that drive! I knew he was there and you seemed more settled and calm after a few weeks of his company.”
“He was medical staff, Mom. He wasn’t meet your hospital match dot com.”
“Stop being such a pill. I wasn’t being inappropriate, Rachel. Your relationship with Conner is based upon friendship, a tried and true friendship. He seemed to be getting through where I couldn’t. I left it alone.”
“I wasn’t blocking you out. Did I make you think such a thing?” Even as the words left my mouth, I remembered how I treated her. I didn’t want to talk with her. I griped at her when she was only trying to keep me and Ryan healthy. I was rude.
“I wanted you to try to find your new normal. Like it or not, your life permanently changed in seconds. I knew that nothing would be the same, and I also knew it was forever going to be that way. I mourned for Garrett, but, I was also very protective of you and your feelings and how you were going to make it through life. I couldn’t bear to see you deal with the loss of Garrett and the home you worked so hard to build.”
“In many ways, I’m happy the house was completely destroyed and couldn’t be rebuilt. I’m not sure I could handle living every day without Garrett in the home we built together. We had too many memories.” The same storm that took my husband was the aftermath forcing me to start over. I needed a “new normal” to help me move on.

~Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of pill Tuesday Tales Main Page

Monday, April 18, 2016

Tuesday Tales and Just One More Push

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- push This will be an excerpt from Twister Fate, my new WIP for a new romance contemporary.

Enjoy!~

In that moment like a funnel I pressed all my sadness and frustration pain tolerance and resolution into pushing my son into the world. I inhaled deeply before bearing down all I had into his arrival. I felt my hair matted to my forehead, drenched with my sweat. I felt the trail of tears pouring down my cheeks. I could see Garrett's face above me when we made love that gave our child life. I thought of his expression so intent and loving when he looked deep into my eyes penetrating my soul as well as my body. I ground again pushing, searing pain scoring my insides and thought of his face when he realized we were finally pregnant. His joy then translated to my heavy sadness right now and I used that emotion to give me strength.

My doctor encouraged me. "You're almost there- you're almost there. Pull it together and give me one more good push!"

Mom held my hand, and I squeezed her fingers clutched within my tightening fist. If it hurt she didn't complain. "Honey you're doing great! I love you so much. You doing such a great job. I'm so proud of you."

I bore down again gritting my teeth as I gave it all I had. I wanted to say it hurt, but I was tougher than that in that moment. I kept going, my focus driven in one direction- finishing this birth. My mind went into a tunnel, and I tuned out all the noise around me. I imagined the finish line, red tape blowing in an imaginary wind, waiting for me to run through it. I pushed again and suddenly I felt an emptiness. Where once was bulky, something filling my obstructed groin was now pleasantly light and unrestrained. I slumped backwards against the raised bed. My heart beat slowed to something less pounding in my ears. I breathed in air, slowing to a less frenetic pace of inhalations. A feeling of relaxation draped my shoulders, and I slumped them a little more. I felt like a wrung out dishrag, spent and empty. A small cry finally filled the air, and I opened my eyes.

"It's a boy!" My doctor gleefully announced, as if proclaiming a king.

Mom squeezed me in a half hug. "You've got a son... a beautiful little boy. I've got a grandson!"


~Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of push Tuesday Tales Main Page




Saturday, April 16, 2016

That's Amore! Just Out Of My Grasp-How Often Do You Say I LOVE YOU?


Good morning!  I’ve decided to use my blog not only to writing, music, and other facets of entertainment, but, also to share my journey. I’ve had significant health problems for over three years. Initially, rheumatologists diagnosed me with systemic lupus (SLE), Sjogren's Syndrome, and fibromyalgia. However, none of the earlier prescribed medications provided any relief. Actually, I kept getting worse and developing new symptoms. So, after second, third, and fourth opinions, I finally found a wonderful rheumatologist, B. Rezazadeh in Plano, Texas. She determined through exam, medical history, and blood tests I have Rheumatoid Arthritis. (I test positive for ANAs in my blood, and also had a positive Vectra DA test.)
Thank you for listening, each week I will have a new installment chronicling my journey- Which is sometimes more frustrating learning to live with this chronic condition.  Learning to live with the unknown has become my routine.There are several varieties of autoimmune disorders, with different caveats and health variations. However, we all have similar symptoms and health issues commonly strewn throughout the various diagnoses.

LOVE…YEAH, I SAID IT

Carry on.

 
How many times do you say, “I love you”, in one day?

I use to average about ten times. I don't do that much anymore, and it bothers me.

Yup.

Ten, on a slow day. That's how I used to roll.

My family has been big on amore since forever. Grown men, including my sons, brother, and brother in law routinely tell each other, and the rest of us- their heartfelt replies several times in one visit.

I told my daughter about 3 times one morning as she was getting out of the car, she rounded the car and was walking into the high school gym. Actually, those 3 times were a reply to her initiated “I love you, mom”.

It isn’t uncommon for us to say I love you 3 times in one telephone conversation. Even more by text, and probably even more still in a Facebook post.

Do we mean it?

Hell ya!

Life is too long to let a day go by without telling someone you love them. I would venture a guess that you have at least one person to remind on a daily basis just where they rank on the emotional cardio scale. I should get back to it, and this post reminds me of that challenge.

It will make you feel better.

I challenge you for the next week. Keep a stroke tally every day of how many times you say “I  love you” in one day. I want to know your number for the week.

If I get enough replies, I might be encouraged for some type of giveaway.

I love you guys, take care of each other.

 


 


Friday, April 15, 2016

What the Storm Didn't Take - SNEAK PEEK

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers...I've been working hard on my newest romance novel, What the Storm Didn't Take. I was inspired by my friendships I've had and also some of the difficulties some of my friends have gone through. Some of my dearest friends lost everything in an Oklahoma tornado. The twister literally dropped out of the sky right behind their home. Everything they owned was strewn and scattered. Thankfully, no one was hurt during the storm. However, in my novel, the heroine loses her husband as he is trying to rescue her.

The way she chooses to move forward in her life drives the plot.
 
I'd like to offer you a sample of my book, a small excerpt of what I'm working on. In this small piece, our heroine, Rachel, is learning how to deal with reality as a young widow. A dear friend, Conner, is trying to convince her to attend a grief support group. Let's see how it goes-

Despite appearances, anger had been bubbling beneath the surface, trying to get out. I kept squashing it down, hoping it’d go away. Here he was trying to psychoanalyze me, and I almost resented him for ruining my fake good mood. “I’m really frustrated you’d try to get me talking about shit I don’t want to talk about.”

“You know, there are stages of grief a person goes through. It’s okay to feel your way through all of them.”

“Good Lord, you’ve worked in health care too long. Would you stop being a doctor or a shrink and just be my friend.” He touched nerves within seconds.

“I’m trying to help. Believe it or not, you’re not hiding your real feelings from me. Maybe you fool everyone else, but, I know your tells.”

My tells? What the hell? “You aren’t as clever as you think you are.”

“Oh no? Your eye twitches when you are feeling anxious. It’s done it off and on since I got here.”

I’d forgotten the feeling, being so used to it occurring. I didn’t even feel the tickle of the twitch in the corner of my left eye. Suddenly, I felt it involuntarily move.

“See!” He said triumphantly. “I told you.”

“Dammit, you’re a smart ass, you know it?”

“I’m not trying to be a smart ass. I’m trying to help you. Would you just listen for a minute?”

Shifting on the couch next to him, I weighed my options. He wasn’t going to give up, I knew that. Too many years of his poking and prodding in my brain until he helped fix whatever bothered me. “Okay, you’ve got a short amount of time before I tell you to shut up.”

Ignoring my abrasiveness, he took a breath and continued on. Ryan kept sleeping through all of it. Conner’s voice lulled him just as much as it used to lull me. “There are stages of grief a person goes through. Once you work through them, it’ll help you cope with the rest of your life.”

I pursed my lips and offered a small nod. He wasn’t telling me anything new. I vaguely remember a social worker’s visit at the hospital. She tried to offer some helpful advice, but, I wasn’t interested at the time. I politely, yet firmly, told her I wasn’t interested in a second visit. “I do know about the stages of grief.”

“I’d like to help you through them, if you’ll let me.” He finally put Ryan back in his bassinet. “I’m an outside person, someone neutral and objective. I know you, and want to help you. But, I wasn’t close to the both of you.”

Why was he pressing this issue so heavily? It was like he was on some mission, and made me second guess his intentions when he texted earlier. “You know, the best thing for me is when I forget. I try to live a normal life and not think about the alternative- the wonderful life I was living before the storm.”

“But, it will stunt you, Rachel. You won’t get far before you have a meltdown.”

“I’ve had plenty of melt downs.”

“You haven’t yet had one that stopped you from moving forward.”

“Are you trying to say I haven’t been sad enough?” He was pissing me off. I wanted to hit something and I’m not a violent person. “How would you know how much I hurt? Are you magically measuring my rate of grief?”

“There’s not a scale. I’m not trying to say you’re doing something wrong.”

I interrupted him. “Good, because you don’t know how hard it fucking is.”


Thank you for taking the time to read this small piece. I hope you'll join me as I periodically release small snippets. The next is scheduled for Tuesday, April 19. Have a beautiful day!

See Me on Smashwords

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Tuesday Tales and a Phone to Heaven

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales.
A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- phone This will be an excerpt from Twister Fate, my new WIP for a new romance contemporary.

Enjoy!~

“You’re going to be better than fine, you’re going to be amazing.” Conner whispered from above, so soft I’m sure the nurse behind him didn’t hear him.

How did he know I was in a panic? “I hope so.” I could only whisper back in faith, because I had no confidence in myself.

A slight hesitation at the automatic sliding doors, he momentarily stopped pushing. I swear I heard him inhale sharply, deeply. I imagined his hands gripping the handles, tighter than I held my son, for fear I’d break him.

We were both holding on…to what I didn’t know.

A few inches forward and the doors slid open, beckoning us to the Oklahoma summer. The sunshine illuminated the day, warming my icy fears. It was then I noticed people milling in and out, oblivious we took up a big middle of the walkway. A couple of folks smiled in my direction, clasping their hands together in a show of affection.

I wasn’t the middle of the universe. I was another person getting through the day. I understood grief and what happened in hospitals so many times. It wasn’t always a place of life, it was a place of anguish and death. In truth, I realized I was a lucky one.

I was a lucky one?

Conner leaned down, offering his hand to help me stand. “Your chariot awaits.” Motioning his head toward my mom’s car, she stood next to the open passenger door, smiling bigger than the beautiful day.

I’d have to learn how to accept happiness, joy, and appreciation for the beauty in life without the guilt Garrett wasn’t here to experience it as well. Our son, Ryan, deserved more than that from me- his mother, protector, and obvious unconditional love. He would learn these things from me, how to be strong and appreciative.

What if I taught him the opposite?

How could all these worries flood me within a matter of minutes? Everything overwhelmed me, and I felt tears gather across my eyes. I was saying goodbye-farewell to my rock- the incredible quasi-family who enveloped my sorrow as well as my physical health. They healed me in so many ways- and Conner was at the center of it.

When would I see him again? We didn’t have the hospital facilitating our visits anymore.

Now, we’d have to find a valid reason that didn’t betray or disparage either of us. 

I wasn’t sure we could.

I wish I had a phone to Heaven.



~Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of phone Tuesday Tales Main Page








 


 

 



 

Monday, April 4, 2016

Tuesday Tales Walking Through the Door

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales. A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image, which we are writing to this week. Our rules change a little for the photo prompt, as we only have 300 words for the offering. Photo inspiration this time comes from the picture of a door. You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. The following from me will be an excerpt from Twister Fate, my new WIP for a new romance contemporary.

Enjoy!~

Maintaining faith in the designer, I spent hours, days, wondering if I made the right choice with all the brightness. I think my son will like it, so, I took the risk. Becoming a mother changed me. I suddenly became more open to creativities I’d only imagined. Having him gave me the permission to not only embrace, but, bring my inner creativity alive, as I’d encouraged my students to do.

The house was a design I’d never have chosen for myself before my husband died. My tastes were normally simple, more comfortable than anything flashy or colorful. I reserved vividness for a canvas or maybe a bouquet of flowers.  But, maybe that’s what I was missing from my life, color to bring out the wide variety of life experiences one person can have. Not every experience creating growth or change stems from a place of excitement, as I learned so heartbreakingly. But, not every heartbreak deserves shades of black or gray to shade the significance.

I’d have given up this new house and everything in it to have my life back with Billy. Not a day goes by I won’t think of him and wonder what he would’ve thought about this new home. Walking through the door would bring back such a flood of emotion, I was sure I’d stumble across the threshold. Somewhere beyond gave me the strength. I’m sure it was him willing me along.

Standing in front of my new home, my son on my hip, my hand on the doorknob, I became tentative, unsure- only for a moment. My stomach bubbled excitedly, my breath came in quick bursts anxiously. He wrapped his tiny hand around the curls in my hair, tugging, giggling at his absolute hold on me.

This opens the door to our new life.



~Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations on images of doors Tuesday Tales Main Page









 



 

 


 

Monday, March 28, 2016

Tuesday Tales - Are Memories Hard to Swallow?


Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! It's time for Tuesday Tales. A group of writers gather together and give our interpretation of a specific word prompt each week. Once per month, we even write to an image.  You never know what you might encounter when you get inside our minds. This week our group writes to the word- swallow This will be an excerpt from Twister Fate, my new WIP for a new romance contemporary.

Enjoy!~

Watching daytime television was interesting for only so long. Being in the hospital limited my choices by the channels they chose to pay for. Truth be told though, I could’ve had a thousand picks and still not found anything to take my mind off the everyday. I was sleeping a little better, my dreams reduced to faded happy memories without the tremors of ugliness. It had been three weeks since the tornado ripped through my happiness.  I didn’t need a calendar to remind me.

Stirring scrambled eggs around the cafeteria-supply white plate, I’d eaten several bites, enough to quiet the growls. The decision to eat more went round and round in my brain, while the eggs cooled to room temperature. Soon, it would be even less appetizing, so, I needed to decide fast. The baby knocked just in time, giving me the cue to make a happy plate. I’d give it my best effort, taking another swallow.

He peeked inside as he knocked.  “Hey, how are you?”

My day brightened, even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I’m okay, trying to eat this breakfast.”

Observing my tray, he smiled. “You’re doing a great job. I’m happy to see your appetite perking up.”

“I’m doing what I can to be a good patient.”

“It’s all we can ask.”

This wasn’t his usual schedule, hopefully he wasn’t there to deliver bad news. “It’s early in the day, what’s the morning visit about?”

“Well, I was going through some of my storage containers and found something I think you might like.”

Storage containers? What in the world was in his history I would be interested in? “You don’t say?”

Waving a little brown paper bag in my direction, he teased me with the mystery. “Yeah, I got a kick out of it.”

“Okay, I give, what’s the big surprise?” In a way, his delight brought a little happiness to my morning.

Fishing around inside for the contents, he looked between me and the sack. He held up something in his large hand, waving it around triumphantly. “Look what I found!”

Inside his long, skilled fingers he held little plastic toys. Memories of times with Cameron temporarily enveloped my sadness, folding it up neatly before tucking it away. Upon further inspection of the mysterious, I saw the unmistakable brown, molded outline of a body wide mane. “No way, is that what I think it is?”

For a moment, I was transported back to my childhood days. We spent hours playing with action of figures of different sorts. However, Star Wars was our clear favorite. Our parents influenced us with the likes of George Lucas and Steven Spielberg while our friends were hooked on Power Rangers and Ninja Turtles. I acknowledged our parents all the time for their tutelage in the classics.

“How cool is this?” Cameron clearly had a huge kick of delight upon bringing me this treasure.

“You still have Chewbacca. I’m impressed.”

“I kept these tucked away in a dresser drawer or something, so, they never made it to the donation box.” Handing the figure over to me, he also held up a couple more. “Look, I have Obi Wan and Yoda too.”

“Wow, we really did spend hours with these things, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, it was awesome. I credit those hours with building my imagination. We were never bored were we?”

“No, I can say we weren’t. Plus, I was the only girl so I didn’t have to fight with anyone else about being Princess Leia.”

“That’s right, probably the most important part. You had no competition.”


~Please visit us at our main site for more interpretations of swallow Tuesday Tales Main Page