I wanted to share this lovely short story from Lisa today. Enjoy.
If you want to know a person, ask them about their houses. The house they grew up in. The first house they bought. The house they’ve always wanted. …
Houses (a short story for Christmas)
Welcome to my week in review blog post where I ramble about what I’ve been reading, watching, writing, doing and sometimes what I’ve been listening to.
What I’ve Been Reading
My goal this week is to read a lot more but this week I read Saving Mrs. Roosevelt and started The Mistletoe Countess by Pepper Basham.
I have a Cat Who mystery I started the day I went into the hospital with Covid but I couldn’t get my brain to settle for obvious reasons so I never continued it. I’d like to make some progress on that these next couple of weeks the kids and I are on holiday break.
Other books I am looking forward to reading in the new year include:
The Rhise of Hope by Max Sternberg
A couple of Hercules Poirot books
Maggie’s Strength by Pegg Thomas
Relative Silence by Carrie Parks
Crooked House by Agatha Christie
Thunder and Rain by Charles Martin
The Dark Horse by Craig Johnson (more of the Longmire Mysteries. I have about 12 more books to read in the series)
And many more I haven’t even listed.
I am also not one of those people who talks about how many books I read in a year. It is hard for me to keep track because my mom and I share a kindle account and she reads some 200 books a year. I have to go through and figure mine out compared to hers and it is very time consuming.
What I’ve Been Watching
Last week I watched a movie called Fisherman Friends, which I found on Amazon. It was exactly what I needed right now. It is the story of a group of fishermen in England who sang what are called sea shanties in their small town and were overheard by a music executive who decided he wanted to sign them to a deal.
The movie is based on a true story and follows the journeys of the men and the beginning of their careers.
Other than that I have been watching mainly comedians and my husband and I watched a couple of episodes of Lovejoy.
What I’ve Been Writing
Last week I shared two chapters of A New Chapter and shared a blog post about my roommate in the Covid wing at the hospital and her positive outcome.
What I’ve been listening to
I have gotten a bit hooked on Matthew West of late so I have been listening to him at night or other times. He is a Christian musician and he also has a podcast.
What’s Been Occurring
I am slowly recovering from Covid and was encouraged this week to find many others dealing with the internal vibrating as a left over side effect. Some of these people have had this happen with other viruses like I did and we are wondering if this could be autoimmune or neurological or reactivating past infections. It has been a relief to read that while anxiety can make it worse it isn’t only anxiety or in our heads. Even those who do not have a history of anxiety are dealing with it.
Either way we are all sharing things (supplements, medicine, exercise, etc.) that are helping, even if only to take the edge off a little bit. For me CBD oil helps immensely so I am anxiously waiting for a delivery of some high quality oil this week.
I still have not ventured from the house on my own since my doctor appointment at the beginning of the month, mainly because the vibrating often gets worse the more I move and I don’t want to have a spell of them when I am out with the kids or even when alone.
I truly do believe things will even out soon with the odd symptoms and I will be able to do things on my own. I am discouraged but not desolate or hopeless, which reminds me of 2 Corinthians 4:8-12: “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.”
We are all excited for Christmas next weekend. The kids have a couple days of homeschool and then a week and a half off. We will spend Christmas Day with my parents and maybe see other family (my brother and his wife) in the beginning of January depending on work schedules.
So that is my week in review. How about you? How did last week go for you? What are you reading and watching etc? Let me know in the comments.
I shared Chapter 12 yesterday. To catch up with the rest of the story click HERE.
Chapter 13
Cold nipped at Matt’s nose and slipped down the back of his throat, tickling it, and leaving him coughing into his hand.
Jason nudged him in the ribs on his way past. “You sick? I don’t like hunting with sick people.”
In front of them, their breath mingled in white wisps, reminding them both that they were well into autumn and winter would be here soon.
Matt shot Jason a look. “I’m not sick. My body’s just not ready for it to be this cold yet.”
Jason paused at the top of the hill and looked down into the leaf-covered gully, catching his breath. “Have faith, we live in Pennsylvania. It will be warm again by next week and then cold again and then warm and then finally we will be plunged into a frozen hell for the next three months.”
Matt laughed. “True.”
Leaves crunched under their feet and Matt dodged a fall tree limb, peering into the trees, searching for the deer he’d shot but had taken off 15 minutes earlier.
“Hey, Matt, been meaning to ask you about something,” Jason shifted his gun on his shoulder.
“The birth announcement?”
Jason nodded. “Yep.”
“You want to know if I’m really the father.”
“I know you’re not. Gabe’s the father. Everyone knows that.”
Matt shrugged. “Not everyone. Just everyone close to the situation.”
“So . . . did she or you tell them you were the father?”
Matt paused and opened his thermos, sipping the coffee he’d made a few hours earlier. “I did. She wasn’t very happy about it. She told me to tell the nurse not to put it in the newspaper and I did but I guess there was some sort of miscommunication.”
Jason whistled. “Wow. That was quite a bold move on your part. What were you thinking?”
“That I didn’t want Liz and Bella connected to Gabe anymore than they already were,” Matt said with a sigh, screwing the lid back on the thermos.
“What did your mom say?
“She’s supportive. Luckily, I caught her before she saw the paper or anyone told her. Thank God for her being so busy with baking that week. I didn’t totally think it through, of course. Pastor Taylor asked me to step down from leading the teen boys, but the timing worked since I’ll be gone in a few more weeks.”
Jason cocked an eyebrow as he zipped his coat up under his neck. “He seriously asked you to step down?”
Matt started walking again. “He didn’t want to, but the parents were a little bothered by their boys being taught the Bible by a man who fathered a child out of wedlock.”
Jason nodded as she followed him. “I guess I can understand that but if they knew the situation —”
“If they knew the situation then they’d know more than they have any business knowing.”
They walked a few more feet in silence.
“What does that mean legally?” Jason asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you’re legally listed as her dad does that mean you are financially responsible for her?”
“I don’t think so, but if Liz ever needed help, I would. She’s pretty independent, though. I doubt she’d let me.”
Jason pointed down into a gully in front of them. “There it is. Looks like you got it after all.”
The men made their way down the embankment to the carcass of an eight-point buck. There had been a moment when it disappeared from sight that Matt had thought maybe he hadn’t killed it after all, and it was staggering through the woods injured.
He enjoyed hunting, but he was less of a fan if he injured an animal and then had to shoot it again to put it out of its misery. If he did hunt, he didn’t do it for sport. He’d clean and dress the animal and take him to the local butcher and use the meat for the rest of the winter, maybe even into the spring. The one benefit of living as a bachelor was that he could cook the same meal over and over again.
Matt knelt next to the animal and drew his knife. “Too bad he rolled down here. It won’t be fun carrying him out.”
Jason lifted his arms and flexed his arm. “Leave that to me, puny man,” he said in a thick European accent. “I can carry your haul for you. When you’re done, you go on ahead and get the ATV and I’ll meet you at the access road.”
Matt leaned back on his heels and quirked an eyebrow. “Puny man? Really? Just because your muscles are as big as my head doesn’t mean I am a puny man, Tanner. I’m perfectly capable of carrying my deer to the access road. Plus, let me point out that I got a deer today and you didn’t, remember?”
Jason laughed. “Hey, come on. It’s barely nine in the morning. I don’t have to be back at the farm for a couple more hours. I still have time.” He leaned over and poked Matt’s bicep. “But you, little man, don’t have time to build up muscle before we need to carry this deer out.” He laughed again as he swung his gun onto his shoulder. “Seriously, I’ll head down for the ATV. It will take me a while to hike down and by then you should have this dressed and carried down.”
Jason was right, of course. He was more muscular. Having played football in high school and college, plus lugging heavy hay bales and farm equipment around every day, Jason did have a lot more upper body strength than Matt and almost anyone Matt knew.
And, well, Matt hadn’t exactly been trying to build bulk while training for the academy. Yes, he had been trying to get into better shape by running down the dirt road circle that led him three miles from the cabin and then back again, but, no, he hadn’t been working out at a gym almost daily like Jason did.
Jason had even convinced Alex to go with him to the gym at least three times a week.
Alex. The man who for years had scoffed at his friends at the mere mention of an exercise routine. Matt would guess that his dating Jason’s sister had changed his mind about working out, especially after Molly’s ex-boyfriend had shown up in town looking well-toned and charming.
“Before I go, I’m just curious,” Jason said. “Are you doing all this because you love Liz?”
Matt worked on the deer as he looked up at his friend. “Liz and I are —”
Jason scoffed. “Don’t tell me you and Liz are just friends, McGee. I see the way you look at her. You’ve been there for her every step of the way through this pregnancy, even though the baby wasn’t yours, and let’s be honest. Very honest. You’ve liked Liz since high school. You might be friends but I have a feeling at least one of you wants there to be more.”
Matt looked back at the deer, grinning. “Don’t you have an ATV to go get?”
Jason laughed as he turned to walk back up the hill. “Looks like someone can’t handle the truth today.”
Matt stood with the deer across his shoulders 20-minutes after Jason left, hooking his arms over the deer to hold it in place. He’d thought about what Jason had said the entire time he’d been dressing the deer and he knew Jason was right. Matt did want something more with Liz, but he was also content to be her friend right now. It was what she needed most of all.
Holding it in this position with a gun strapped to his back, he laughed at the thought of how ridiculous he probably looked, despite feeling slightly manly walking through the woods with his catch for the day sprawled across his shoulders. Now to remember which direction the access road was. Jason was more familiar with this section of the woods. His family had owned part of it for years and while Matt had hunted here with him off and on for the past 15 years, he still got turned around more often than not.
Walking up the gully to the hilltop opposite of how he’d come down, he looked through what felt like miles and miles of maple and ash trees but nothing else. He was fairly certain the access road was due east so he headed that way. When his phone rang ten minutes later he ignored it at first, but then when it stopped and then started again, stopped and started again, he worried it might be an emergency.
Laying the deer down wasn’t an easy feat but once the carcass was lying in the leaves, he zipped his camouflage jacket open and reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his coveralls.
“Matt. Where are you?” The voice sounded far away.
“Liz? Anything wrong?”
“McGee, I wanted to ask you the other . . didn’t you tell me . . .*static*”
He plugged a finger in his ear as if that would help improve the service on a wooded hill in the middle of nowhere. “Tell you what?”
Static. “. . .apartment . . .”
“Liz, you’re breaking up. Is something going on at the apartment?”
“No! We’re fine. I’m talking about . . .” Static. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The line went dead, and he looked at his phone screen, bewildered. Call lost.
Tell her what?
He walked a few feet forward and tried to call her back. No service. He moved a few steps back. Still no service. Great.
What was that all about? Should he go back down the hill and try to call her again? He shrugged.
She said everything was fine. He’d call her when he got back to the cabin. He needed to get this deer out and hung before the meat went bad.
Sliding the phone back into his inside pocket, he looked through the rows of trees and squinted. A rooftop peeked through the tree line, something he’d never seen before walking up here. He looked around and then leaned forward on his knees, looking lower. He saw what looked like junk cars scattered among the leaves. He leaned back up and after a few minutes of thinking realized he’d walked a little more south than east because he was looking at Bunky Taylor’s abandoned junkyard. Bunky had died a year ago and no one had been up to clean the site up, mainly because no one in his family knew exactly how to dispose of all the junk cars Bunky had collected in the 40 years he’d owned the junkyard and mechanic business.
The access road was a little further up more to the east. It wouldn’t hurt to take a shortcut through the junkyard, see how much it had grown over since it had been abandoned. He slung the deer back over his shoulder and headed down through the wooded area where he was able to get a better view of the junkyard and Bunky’s old house, a ranch home built on top of stilts with a makeshift carport built with two-by-fours and metal sheeting. The roof of the house was sagging in some places, red shutters askew on some of the windows, dark brown staining the gray siding.
A puff of smoke from the chimney drew his attention and he paused before walking down the hill through the vehicles, noting tools laying in the leaves next to one or two of them. It looked like someone might be living here after all.
He dropped the deer in a grassy area next to the dirt parking lot, located in front of the house. A swing set installed next to the house and a tricycle and other children’s toys scattered across the front lawn alerted him to the realization that a family must be living in the home, despite its dilapidated appearance.
“Can I help you?”
He turned to his right abruptly, startled by the voice. He was even more startled at the sight of a man walking from a crude shed practically hidden from view by two vintage rusted Chevy trucks and the limbs of a large oak tree that rose up from the middle of the junkyard and cast shadows like the spindly fingers of a wisped specter. The man wore a pair of gray coveralls smudged with oil and dirt, dark brown work boots obviously well worn, and was unshaven with black grease smeared on his cheek and forehead.
Although his hair was short in the back, strands of dirty blond hair hung down across his forehead and eyes. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed when he saw Matt and Matt didn’t have to guess why.
“Bernie. Hey. I didn’t know you were living here.”
Bernie kept his eyes on Matt while he continued to wipe his hands on the rag. He chewed on the inside of his lower lip for a few minutes, as if trying to decide how he wanted to answer.
“Moved in about six months ago. Rentin’ it from Bunky’s son.”
The tension in his response was evident, but why wouldn’t it be? Bernie had been released from jail about eight months ago and Matt was the cop who put him there. It wasn’t as if Matt expected the man to walk up and shake his hand.
Bernie tipped his head up slightly, jerking his chin toward the deer carcass laying in his yard. “Out huntin’?”
Matt nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Yep. Bagged an eight-point. Supposed to meet Jason Tanner at the access road to the Shaffer’s property up the road away but got off course.”
Bernie smirked. “Guess you didn’t learn how to read a compass at that police academy.”
Matt didn’t hear the contempt in the comment that he expected he would. He laughed and Bernie smiled, revealing a few missing teeth on the bottom front row. Matt was about to excuse himself when he heard the squeak of the front door of the house and saw movement out of the corner of his eye. A small girl, maybe 7 or 8, darted down the paint-chipped steps with a boy of about 5 following behind. The pair ran to Bernie and tossed their arms around him the girl holding on to his waist, the boy to his leg, just above the knee.
“Hey, there.” Bernie ruffled the girl’s hair. “What you out here for?”
“Mom said to tell you breakfast is ready,” the girl answered, looking first at her father and then turning her attention to Matt, wide blue eyes boring into him.
“Did you come to take my daddy back to jail?”
The words hit Matt full force in the chest. She said them without emotion, speaking in a matter-of-fact tone found more often in an adult than such a young child. He wondered how she knew who he was and if he should be worried Bernie’s young daughter knew he was the man who had arrested her father.
Matt decided to be just as blunt. “No, ma’am. I was just hunting in the woods today and came here by accident. What’s your name?”
“Marlie and this is my brother Jerry.” Her direct tone and gaze unnerved him, but he had a feeling she’d had to learn to be tough in her short life and that thought unnerved him even more.
“Nice to meet you,” he said.
He looked back at Bernie thought about how Reggie had asked about keeping an eye on him and hoped he wouldn’t have to. He hoped Bernie had turned his life around if not for his own sake, then for the sake of his children.
As if reading his mind Bernie laid a hand on the top of his son’s head and cleared his throat. “I’ve kept myself clean, McGee. If you’re here to try to get dirt on me, you’re going to be disappointed.”
Matt held a hand up and shook his head. “Bernie, I assure you that I had no idea you were living here. What I told you about hunting and getting off track is the truth.”
Bernie nodded, frowned, and looked at the ground. “Okay then. I believe you. You’re not one for lying. Never were.” He chuckled, revealing his missing teeth again. “If you had been then I might not have been in jail for those six months.” He spit at the ground, shrugged a shoulder. “But, I deserved it. I know that. I got myself messed up with the wrong crowd. I have a talent for doing that, I guess.”
Matt knew it also didn’t help he’d been raised in the wrong crowd.
“I didn’t like arresting you, Bern. I hope you know that. There are very few people police actually enjoy arresting.”
Bernie ran a hand gently down his daughter’s, white-blond hair and tipped his head toward the yard, and looked down at her. “Why don’t you and Jerry go play a while, k?”
After the kids darted across the yard and back into the house, Bernie looked at Matt. “Sure did suck when you busted me, but maybe it was what I needed, you know? A wake-up call. Gotta hit rock bottom to come back up, right? I’m starting a junkyard and car business, turning over a new leaf, starting over. For the sake of Chrissy and the kids.”
Chrissy. That’s right. Matt remembered Bernie had married Chrissy Trenton from high school, another person who’d had a hard life.
“Glad to hear that, Bern. I wish you luck. I really do.”
Bernie nodded. “Thanks, McGee. I appreciate that.” He nodded toward the deer. “You better go meet Tanner. Don’t want that meat tainted.”
Matt turned and head back toward the dirt road next to the junkyard. He hoped Bernie was telling the truth and that he’d really turned his life around. Maybe the state police were wrong about Bernie. Maybe he wasn’t running a meth ring. From the quick glances he’d given around the property while walking into and out of it, Matt hadn’t seen anything that would toss a red flag up for him in relation to drugs, but he knew that the shed could have been one place to hide it.
Lord, please don’t let there be anything there. I don’t like the idea of taking a father away from his children.
The fact I am able to write a blog post this week is exciting to me and feels a little like a miracle.
It’s just a silly blog post but I am alive to write it. And I apologize ahead of time if it makes no sense at all!
If you didn’t catch my blog post from last week, I spent five days in the COVID unit of our local hospital starting Thanksgiving night. I just looked back at that original post that I copied from Instagram and I don’t think it makes much sense but, then again, a lot of my blog posts over the years probably haven’t made sense. Ha! The second blog post about my recovery didn’t make much sense either but it’s been quite a journey so I will cut myself some slack.
I came home from the hospital Monday night of this past week and am slowly recovering, trying to regain some sort of normalcy again. Making myself write this blog post is one way of getting some of that back. I am still worried about my cognitive state at this point, but I can write cognitive so that’s a good thing, right? I have issues with brain fog anyhow but COVID has stepped it up even more. I had never heard how bad it messed with you mentally until I got it.
So, I mentioned in my other post that I have developed a very odd internal tremor that started either when the symptoms of COVID (dry cough, high fever, exhaustion, loss of taste and smell) started or when I found out officially that I had Covid. I’m not sure which. The days all blurred together. I do know I had a bit of a mental breakdown when I saw I officially had Covid, terrified of what it would bring to my family.
I chalked the tremor up to the effects of the virus itself but it is still there and won’t go away even as I should be over the virus. I do have occasional breaks from it. It’s very hard to explain it other than to say I feel like I am sitting in a pot of boiling water all the time but without the heat. Or that my muscles are constantly twitching from the spine up through my head. Or that I’m sitting on a phone on vibrate 24/7. I also have a low roar in my ears but my ears have been stuffed for over a month so that isn’t leftover from Covid.
I think I mentioned in my post earlier in the week that I had something similar happen to me when my dog of 14-years died in 2017. My daughter was also sick around that time (she’d stopped eating and was tested for the flu), I thought I had cancer (don’t even ask! I really am crazy sometimes), etc. it all built up and a vibration similar to this developed. It took maybe two or three months to settle down. I’m hoping this will take less time.
So I have slowly been getting my taste and smell back and cried when I started tasting food like my mom’s homemade mashed potatoes.
On Friday night I smelled Little Miss’s gas and actually got emotional. Ha! I know! It’s crazy but it’s just another sign I am recovering. I lost my smell and taste on the 13th. My son did as well and he’s still waiting for it to come back. I reminded him I am a few days ahead of him in recovery so it should come soon. My husband only lost part of his smell. As far as we know Little Miss didn’t lose any of that.
What I’m reading
So reading actual books was not on my priority list last week. I couldn’t get my brain to settle most of the time and did way too much internet research. When that obsession settled down, I found that texting my family and friends and watching old comedies like The Andy Griffith Show and stupid Lifetime Christmas movies worked to calm me more than anything else.
I did try to read Virgin River by Robyn Carr on my final day in the hospital, but, well, I don’t think it’s a very well-written book so I struggled some. Or maybe it’s just because I already knew what happened since I watched the first season on Netflix a year or so ago.
When I got back from the hospital my joy was reading Paddington with Little Miss and doing all the voices. Daddy doesn’t know how to read it right, she says.
I’m now also trying to read Saving Mrs. Roosevelt by Candice Sue Patterson for a book tour and so far I am enjoying it. It’s so nice to disappear inside books again!
What I’m writing
I am planning on gutting my novel this week. I don’t have a lot of brain capacity at the moment for writing, really, but I’m trying to do a little editing at least and that’s actually helping my mental healing a lot.
I have no idea when I will share fiction on the blog again. It might be after Christmas at this point.
What I’m Watching
I watched a ton of The Andy Griffith Show last week, as I mentioned above. Comfort watching. It was what I needed. I also watched Lovejoy and Corner Gas with my husband when we were first dealing with COVID and then did a couple marathons of Corner Gas during recovery this past week. I watched a lot of Gordan Ramsey’s travel show on National Geographic while in the hospital and a couple of really dumb Lifetime Christmas movies. I suffered through Pitch Perfect 3 as well. Lord, that was awful and I don’t think it was awful just because of the COVID.
What I’m listening To
In the hospital, I listened constantly to my Christian music playlist that I had set up on Apple.
I listened to Elevation Worship and Crowder and Matthew West, Needtobreathe (ironic, no?), Natalie Grant, Cece Winans, MercyMe, Keith Green, Michael W. Smith, Rend Collective, and For King and Country, just to name a few. I highly recommend listening to music in situations like that. It truly calms the nerves.
So that’s my week in review. I somehow made it! I would love to hear how your week went. I don’t care if you just cleaned out your attic or decorated the house or baked some cookies. Please feel free to share with me in the comments!
I’m slowly mentally recovering from my five-day hospital stay from COVID.
I was on a low flow (very low) of oxygen for about two days but had to stay longer to finish an antiviral treatment which may or may not have helped (there are mixed studies on it). I had to take five doses over five days.
I went into the hospital on Thanksgiving night. I’d been sick for about nine or ten days by then. I went to the ER when my pulse ox seemed to drop. The ER doctor admitted me and at first, it looked like I would have to travel to a hospital more than three hours from my house. That thought terrified me and my husband.
By some kind of miracle, a bed was found at our local hospital (larger than the one I went to for the ER), about 45 minutes from our house.
There is so much I could write about all this and so much I want to, but I’m not totally mentally there to do so.
This was the scariest situation I have ever been in in my life.
I relied completely on Christ. I felt his peace even when I didn’t know how I was feeling it. I wasn’t perfect in my faith, don’t get me wrong. I had doubts but when everything else is taken away from you all you have is God.
I couldn’t have visitors, or at least as far as I knew. I was truly alone other than the amazing staff and nurses. Well, and God, as I’ve already mentioned.
My roommate almost died Saturday night, two days before I left. That was so hard. I prayed over her and even rubbed her shoulders at one point and prayed for her o2 levels to come up. By laying on her side they would come up and at that moment it rose from the low 80s up to 98 as I prayed. I don’t know what really happened, but I was so grateful to see that number.
The staff was doing all they could to keep her off the vent. I called Wednesday to see how she was and the staff can’t tell me much since I am not family but they did say she was still there. I took that as a good sign that she had not been sent to the ICU yet. It is also possible they couldn’t get her in the ICU as there is a huge surge in our area right now.
I am now keeping track of seven people battling COVID in our area. They are a mix of vaccinated and unvaccinated, which is who was in the COVID unit at our hospital, according to the nurses and staff. This virus isn’t discerning at this point, unfortunately. We just need to get on our hands and knees and pray to God for it to get better soon and for the doctors to keep finding ways to treat people as best as they can.
When I was in the hospital the attitude was very positive. There was no negative talk allowed about what could happen, other than realistic reports on how we were doing in our care.
They had us lay on our stomachs for an hour at a time every four hours. We were given low dose steroids, cough medication, albuterol every four hours or so, low dose blood thinner shots in our stomachs once a day to prevent blood clots, any regular meds, encouraged to walk around and also given a breathing device to strengthen our lungs. And we all, pretty much all, were on a drug that some say can affect your kidneys, but our kidneys were tested through blood work at least twice during our stays.
My lungs remained clear my entire stay, thank God, even though I had an annoying cough. The cough medicine was mainly an exportent (sorry, I can’t spell that and am too lazy to look it up.)to keep the mucous thin and loose.
So, I’m home.
It’s been a weird journey since being home too.
I have an internal tremor that started a day or so after my symptoms started on the 16th of November. That’s pretty intense, especially when the anxiety kicks in but it’s similar to tremors I had after my 14-year old dog died in 2017. Doctors couldn’t figure that out then and the nurses were bewildered this time, other than to say the virus puts a huge amount of stress on the body of patients and they believe it’s a mix of that and insane anxiety.
Oddly, as I am typing this the internal tremor is better. A lot better. Hmmm..maybe getting back to writing and sharing with my lovely blog readers is helping to distract me. Praise Jesus!
I’m sure I’ll write more about all of this in future blog posts. Or maybe I won’t. I don’t know how much I can handle writing about it all. Even thinking about it is very traumatic at this time.
Thank you to those of you who prayed and who I know will continue to pray now.
Stay safe out there everyone but don’t live in fear. God has us, one way or another! (remind me of this when I find myself doubting again!)
Book: A Convenient Risk
Author: Sara R. Turnquist
Genre: Clean Historical Romance
Release date: October 26, 2021
He never imagined her heart would be so hard to reach.
Forced into a marriage of convenience after her husband dies, Amanda Haynes is determined she will never love again. Not that it bothers Brandon Miller. He needs her husband’s cattle. She needs financial stability and long-term support for her son and herself. But she never expected to care so much about the running of the ranch.
Butting heads over the decisions of the ranch, only adds to her frustration. Her wellbeing is soon threatened as their lives become entangled with Billy the Kid and his gang.
What has she gotten herself into? What kind of man has she married? Is there any way out?
Click here to get your copy!
I don’t usually read historical fiction, but I was intrigued by the plot of this book and I am glad I picked it up!
I didn’t even mind it took place in a different time period and in fact barely noticed because I was so caught up in the story.
It was very easy to become immersed in the lives of these characters and fall in love with them. Their challenges were very real and raw without being in the least bit graphic. There was just enough tension in the book to keep me turning the pages so I could find out what would happen next, but not too much that it was overdone.
I loved the real, raw reactions between Amanda and Brandon and there was more to this book than a simple romance, which I loved. Some books are only back and forth between the man and the woman and how they are feeling about each other but in this book both Brandon and Amanda had their own personal demons they were battling. They weren’t just focused on how they felt about each other, with long drawn out mental gymnastics like there are in some books. They did have their relationship with each other to consider since their situation was more unique and challenging than a normal relationship, but it didn’t consume the book or take away from the other storylines.
After reading this book I know I will be reading more books by Sara. She has sold me on historical fiction.
I was offered a complimentary copy of this book in exchange for an honest review and this review was my very honest opinion.
Sara is a coffee lovin’, word slinging, clean Historical Romance author whose super power is converting caffeine into novels. She loves those odd little tidbits of history that are stranger than fiction. That’s what inspires her. Well, that and a good love story.
But of all the love stories she knows, hers is her favorite. She lives happily with her own Prince Charming and their gaggle of minions. Three to be exact. They sure know how to distract a writer! But, alas, the stories must be written, even if it must happen in the wee hours of the morning.
Sara is an avid reader and also enjoys reading clean Historical Romance when she’s not traveling. Her books range from the Czech lands to the American Wild West and from ancient Egypt to the early 1900s. Some of her titles include The Lady Bornekova, Hope in Cripple Creek, The General’s Wife, Trail of Fears, and the Convenient Risk Series.
Hello, Readers!
I am always asked about the inspiration behind my work. These tidbits can be wide and varied from one story to the next. But none is so interesting, in my opinion, as the thing that sparked A Convenient Risk.
It just so happens that one of my good friends, best-selling contemporary romance author Hannah R. Conway, is my conference buddy. We go to writing conferences and retreats together, networking with other writers and learning more about the craft of writing.
And…at one such conference during some down time, Hannah (who is a fellow lover of history) said, “hey, let’s go to the cemetery.” I wasn’t quite so certain about that particular jaunt, but it was daytime and she raved about the history to be mined there, so I was in.
As we walked around, indeed we did look at stones—especially older ones—and thought about the lives of the people based on the era they lived in and whatnot. Just a heyday for our writer brains. We came upon a particular set of stones from the early 1900s. And, according to the little bit information on the stones, we determined that the woman had first married a man who was much older. Then he died. And she married a man closer to her own age. My writer wheels started turning!
Did her parents arrange a marriage for some sort of benefit? Maybe she was from a poor family and they needed her to have a better circumstance? At any rate, the man died a few years later. Then she married a man closer to her age…perhaps a man she had previously been in love with and had always wanted to marry?
I thought, then, about second marriages after a spouse passes. And how we tend to memorialize loved ones who pass—remember the good times and gloss over the hard, more challenging things. I don’t think this is a conscious thing, more of a way our mind handles grief.
So, if a widow must make a marriage of convenience, how does that affect her ability to develop love for the second husband if she is comparing him to this image of her first spouse in a way he wasn’t actually in real life.
Now, I don’t know for certain…I’ve only been married once (and thank the Lord my Prince Charming is patient enough to stick it out with this writer). But I wanted to work this scenario out within this fictive bubble…play with this concept…see where it led. After mixing that with a bit of history, throwing in a dash of a famous American outlaw, A Convenient Risk was born.
For Him and My Family, December 1
Boondock Ramblings, December 1
Debbie’s Dusty Deliberations, December 2
Texas Book-aholic, December 3
Inklings and notions, December 4
Britt Reads Fiction, December 4
Ashley’s Clean Book Reviews, December 5
deb’s Book Review, December 6
Locks, Hooks and Books, December 7
Musings of a Sassy Bookish Mama, December 8
Because I said so — and other adventures in Parenting, December 9
A Modern Day Fairy Tale, December 10 (Spotlight)
Cats in the Cradle Blog, December 10
Blossoms and Blessings, December 11
Happily Managing a Household of Boys, December 12
Truth and Grace Homeschool Academy, December 13
Abba’s Prayer Warrior Princess, December 14
To celebrate her tour, Sara is giving away the grand prize package of a $50 Amazon gift card and an eBook copy of A Convenient Risk!!
Be sure to comment on the blog stops for nine extra entries into the giveaway! Click the link below to enter.
https://promosimple.com/ps/1417f/a-convenient-risk-celebration-tour-giveaway
Welcome to the Blog + Review Tour for Heart of Stone by David James Warren, hosted by JustRead Publicity Tours!
The continuing adventures of Rembrandt Stone from the creative minds of James L. Rubart, Susan May Warren, and newcomer David Curtis Warren, writing collectively as David James Warren.
Title: Heart of Stone
Series: The True Lies of Rembrandt Stone #6
Author: David James Warren
Publisher: TriStone Media
Release Date: November 23, 2021
Genre: Time Travel Detective Series
Rembrandt Stone has nothing left to lose…or does he?
Detective Rembrandt Stone doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror. Doesn’t recognize the world he’s returned to. Doesn’t even know his own name. But he knows one thing…living in this world is impossible.
Good thing he has an ally—an unexpected friend from the past. And together, they just might be able to unravel the entire mess. But first…Rembrandt will have to return to the past one final time and intercept himself before he makes a lethal mistake.
Time has outwitted him. It’s time for him to outwit time. Can he reconstruct a past he just destroyed or is there nothing left of his world to save?
The explosive ending to the True Lies of Rembrandt Stone!
PURCHASE LINKS*: Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | BookBub
They say that without hope, people perish.
I say hope crushes the soul.
That’s why I look away when Frankie Dale’s beautiful gray eyes fall on me as I
walk into Alexander Malakov’s third-story office.
The pulse of some electro-dance beat pumps in from the nightclub below, the odor
of bodies and a hint of reefer saucing the air. Turbo is on fire tonight, the line to get
into the club a half-block long despite the sultry July-heated night.
Alexander leans against the front of his desk, his arms folded over his gray silk
Brioni dress shirt, his cuffs rolled up—as if he’d actually do any of the bare knuckle
work it takes to keep his multi-million dollar organized crime empire running.
That’s why Vita, Alexander’s “XO,” the guy who delivers his orders, called me.
Vita is shorter than me, lean, blond and about my age, his face heavy with lines and a
scar that runs from his eye to his chin.
We’re work friends.
“Staz,” he says in greeting and I nod at him and walk over to Alexander. The
female—she can’t be Frankie, not right now—sits on the sofa. I can’t tell if she’s been
roughed up, but I don’t look at her, just in case.
“Thanks for coming,” Alexander says from his perch on the desk.
“Of course, boss.” I’ve played the undercover game for years, so this can’t be any
different. Booker briefed me earlier—wait for that, I’ll catch you up—and apparently,
I’ve been at this game for years, so sliding into my persona as Staz, Malakov’s right
hand thug is an old shoe.
According to my sketchy research, Alexander Malakov runs the biggest Russian
gang in Minneapolis, filling the void after Burke and I took down Somali warlord
Hassan Abdilhali some twenty years ago. According to Booker, Malakov’s also
recently declared war on the police department, hoping to carve out his own Little
Moscow in the North Loop.
I remember this part from past versions of my life—my 1994 Porsche 911 having
recently been a victim of this war.
And I know you’re wondering—past versions?
Again, wait for it. It’s worth it, I promise.
Alexander is vaping, and now sets down his cigarette. My guess is that it’s filled
with high end snow because he’s edgy and ticking with energy. I walk over and put a
hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
“How did she get in here?” He directs the question to Vita, and I look at him,
expecting an answer, too.
“I don’t know. We found her in here rummaging around. Say’s she was lost, but I
don’t buy it.” Vita says.
Now I look at Frankie.
The sight of her makes me pinch the corners of my mouth and take a breath. Her
lip is bleeding, although that could be from a struggle. Frankie has it in her to cause
trouble, thanks to her parentage.
I know for a fact that Booker doesn’t know what she’s up to. But then again, she’s
in her mid-twenties and can make her own decisions.
If she were my daughter, I’d put a tracker on her.
Okay, not really, but the thought catches me, and I inhale sharply.
I had a daughter. Once upon a happier time. With blonde hair and blue eyes and
the kind of laughter that made me believe in things like hope, and faith, and love.
For the last month, I’ve tried to believe—to hope—that I could find her, save her,
bring her home. I haven’t succeeded.
Remember what I said about hope?
CONNECT WITH REMBRANDT STONE: Website | Instagram
James L. Rubart is 28 years old, but lives trapped inside an older man’s body. He’s the best-selling, Christy Hall of Fame author of ten novels and loves to send readers on mind-bending journeys they’ll remember months after they finish one of his stories. He’s dad to the two most outstanding sons on the planet and lives with his amazing wife on a small lake in eastern Washington. More at http://jameslrubart.com/
CONNECT WITH JAMES: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter
Susan May Warren is the USA Today bestselling, Christy and RITA award–winning author of more than eighty novels whose compelling plots and unforgettable characters have won acclaim with readers and reviewers alike. The mother of four grown children, and married to her real-life hero for over 30 years, she loves traveling and telling stories about life, adventure, and faith.
For exciting updates on her new releases, previous books, and more, visit her website at www.susanmaywarren.com.
CONNECT WITH SUSAN: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter
David Curtis Warren is making his literary debut in these novels, and he’s never been more excited. He looks forward to creating more riveting stories with Susie and Jim, as well as on his own. He’s grateful for his co-writers, family, and faith, buoying him during the pandemic of 2020, and this writing and publishing process.
CONNECT WITH DAVID: Instagram
(1) winner will receive one The True Lies of Rembrandt Stone print copy (winner’s choice) and a $10 Amazon gift card!
Full tour schedule linked below. Giveaway began at midnight November 29, 2021 and will last through 11:59 PM EST on December 6, 2021. Winner will be notified within 2 weeks of close of the giveaway and given 48 hours to respond or risk forfeiture of prize. US only. Void where prohibited by law or logistics.
Giveaway is subject to the policies found here.
I posted this to Instagram today and will write more on my blog later …
Bettie.. please pray for me.
My son received a record player with all the bells and whistles for his 15th birthday this past weekend. It was a gift from us (his parents) and his grandparents (my parents).
It is a record player that also plays CDs, utilizes Bluetooth (so you can send music off your phone to it), and has an AM/FM radio. The record we ordered him hadn’t arrived yet but he wanted to try the sound out, so he plugged it in and sent a few songs to it from his phone.
In the meantime, my dad drug out a few old records he’d had stored away, and we decided we’d try those.
In the next couple of hours, me and my parents had more fun with that record player than my son did, although later he did say he was actually enjoying our delight. My dad found a couple of records that a cousin of his grandfather’s had recorded in the 60s in Nashville. He and my mom hadn’t heard these songs probably since the 70s or 80s, they weren’t sure when. They had record players over the years but don’t have one now and haven’t since I was a kid probably.
They also had records from a family friend who recorded some gospel songs and enjoyed listening to those too. And then I found an LP of With or Without You by U2, which my brother owned and we put that on for a listen too.
I ended up using my phone to record the songs by my dad’s cousin for my dad to share on Facebook. The player does have the capability of transferring from vinyl to mp3 but we have to install the software to a computer first so we decided to record a video on my phone instead.
The image isn’t steady because I’m dealing with vertigo again and it was really bad while I was trying to record it, but the music was recorded and that was what mattered.
The interesting thing was that my aunt called to wish my son a happy birthday and when I told her about listening to the music, she said she had actually found one of the records in a pile of papers earlier that day. We thought she might like to hear it as well, so we put the phone on speaker and she was able to listen in as well, hearing the music for the first time in probably 30 or 40 years. She turned 89 the next day so it was an early birthday present for her.
It was really a joy for me to see the joy the record player gave to my parents and aunt but also to those on Facebook who are related to the man who was singing and was also delighted to hear the songs.
The singer’s name was Bub Robinson. I wish I knew more about him and the songs. What I do know is that he did not hit the big time, though I wish he had because his voice was better than many of the artists out there today, but he did continue to perform locally, including with his son and I think occasionally with my grandfather, who was also a singer.
Now if we could find the records that feature my grandfather singing, I would be over the moon. He died when I was two and I’m sure I’ve heard recordings of him before because I can hear his voice in my mind somehow. He was sick with cancer when I was a baby and my mom said I was afraid of him because of his deep voice but that right before he died (in a bed at the home my parents now live in), I leaned over and kissed his cheek. She said he was delighted.
My dad has the records somewhere of Grandpa singing, he thinks, and he also has reel-to-reel home movies from the 60s of my grandparents which I really hope to see before the year is out.
If anyone knows where an old projector can be purchased, let me know in the comments. It would her nice to have another afternoon of delving into the past but this time we won’t steal my kid’s birthday gift to do it.
