Watch it!

First of all, thanks to any and all of you who went to Wings ePress and downloaded a free copy of my book LYLA'S SONG. I hope you like it enough to follow through with the others in the series.

Now, about this Watch it! thing in the subject line. I've worn a watch for as long as I can remember. Daddy used to get them as bonuses with his product lines. I especially remember receiving a delicate ladies' watch once from a spark plug dealer.

Whenever we travel I dutifully set my watch to the local time. When we decided to travel to Australia for the first time in early 2005, I knew the time difference between where I was and home was going to be too great to readily calculate. I went hunting a dual-face watch and found the perfect one.

I liked it so much that I've kept wearing it. I even ordered a new band last year from the Skagen US office in Reno NV. And then, 10 days or so ago, I noticed I'd cracked the crystal. There wasn't a replacement for sale on the site and so I called. To my consternation, I'd have to send the watch to them.

Do without a watch? Were they kidding me? I couldn't even find an old one buried any place. But on the other hand, I couldn't allow the crack to widen and moisture to get in and ruin my watch. A new watch was about $115, depending on where you looked. (Very similar to the price paid in late 2004.) Sending it off was less than $35. I packed it up last Wednesday and kissed it good-bye with adequate insurance.

Four to six weeks the man had said. How was I going to make it 4-6 weeks looking at a blank left wrist? I contemplated a cheapie from Walmart. Then I decided to gut it up.

So far, I'm managing. In the house, I know where the clocks are. In the car, the same. At the computer, the time is just above my right line of sight. When I'm out, I can always grab my phone.

But my left wrist is lonely. I wonder: Is 4-6 weeks enough time for the tan line to disappear?

Reading me for FREE!!!!!!

Sunday and Monday, May 27 and 28, my publisher, Wings ePress Inc, is having a freebie promo of six first-in-a-series books. They did this 2 weeks ago and it was met with great success and so they're at it once again.

The difference? This weekend, my first-in-a-series book, LYLA'S SONG, is up for free.

Why be so elated about giving away a work which took me a year to accomplish? Well, it's a series. The Texoma Series because the majority of it takes place on Lake Texoma, Texas side. And I hope that once you read bad boy rock star Eddie T Samuels' story of redemption and love, you'll want to see what happens to his twin brother, Eddie C, a man in need of redemption and a good woman if there ever was one. His story: JEMMA'S HEART.

Then there's Lyla's jilted lover, Tib. Poor Tib. But he meets his match in SARA'S SOUL. The rest of the band finds their forevers in BETTINA'S GAMBLE, PHILLIPA'S FIDDLER, and ANYA'S DREAM. There's even hope for thrice-married band manager Fletcher.

So visit the site this Sunday and Monday and download LYLA. Check the other offerings while you're there.

May I welcome you to the Texoma family.

PS: Monday's ribs were good, but not the best. We're still working. And eating.

Going for the ribs

The spouse and I are on a quest to conquer pork ribs. We've just begun the journey and our efforts have been mediocre at best.

We've been prompted to this by the opening of a Mexican meat market in town and friends who've had success with their ribs. Somehow it's just more real when you can choose your ribs and they're not in cryovac.

What has stopped us from ever trying in the first place is the idea of grilling over slow heat. We use charcoal. Slow heat is rapidly no heat. How about the oven?

First effort, I bought the wrong thing. Now, I know that sounds impossible but I used the term "marinade" because my husband's friends had got a marinade recipe when they'd bought ribs. The skinny little marinated ribs were tough and not very good to boot. Perhaps I'd not made myself understood?

Second effort, the spouse purchased the ribs. He got the meat he wanted but somewhere in the translation the marinade was not quite right and we tried to start at 4 in the afternoon and well, we were closer--and they were better as leftovers--but it wasn't right. We'd even "finished" them on the grill.

Third and I've taken back over. I'm fond of cutting out rib recipes from magazines and newspapers, each promising to be the ultimate one. This time I'm trusting Cook's Country's indoor ribs. They've rarely steered me wrong. I started in adequate time and there's no charcoal involved.

I'll let you know.

An update to my books

My publisher Wings ePress Inc is having a first ever FREE downloads special this weekend, Saturday May 12 through Sunday May 13 at 7PM EDT. All six offered are first of a series. Just go to the site and click through the link on the top banner.

Alas, LYLA'S SONG, my first of the Texoma Series, is not available--but there's hope! Wings will be repeating this on Memorial Day weekend with different books.

Also, and this is good news, all of my books are now available for the NOOK. Yeah!

Happy reading and happy shopping!

An open letter to whomever dumped their pet

Dear You-should-be-ashamed:

And you should, really. Leaving a cat to fend on his own. A PET, even! And how do I know that? Because of the following:

Some time in January, a stray gray cat shows up in the neighborhood. He is hiding out at the neighbor's whose yard adjoins ours and I watch him shimmy under the fence and come to my house for food. My neighbor, good-hearted as she is, doesn't have any cats and has a large garden area, so she may not even know he exists. He patiently waits while my outdoor cats eat, then comes in for the crumbs.

As the months have gone by, he's become both bolder and more accepted by his fellow felines. He starts to hide out and perhaps bed down in my front flower beds. I see him make a pair of mockingbirds very mad when he takes down a third for his dinner. He eyes me over his shoulder as he hunkers over his prize. I do not disturb him.

Then, last week, as I sit on the porch scratching behind the ears of my blue-eyed Sam, Gray--because I've had to call him something--strolls over to me and headbutts my arm! A feral cat does not do this. A feral hides and runs, not nuzzles up to a stranger.

Because he is a nuzzler! If I sit on the porch steps, he comes and winds himself around me and nestles to my back. He purrs in contentment and lets me stroke him from nose to tail tip.

He was a pet!

Why was he dumped? Did his owner die or go to a nursing facility or move? Did you, dear dumper, think the village would take care of him if he were dumped at an appropriate place?

Well, I have. I intend to take him to the vet as soon as we're comfortable enough with each other that I can pick him up.

In the meantime, if I've been all wrong about this and you've merely misplaced a beautiful gray cat (large, broad, thin-coated), then if you're reading this blog--and can tell me about his eyes and mouth--you know how to find me. Plus, I monitor my comments. Leave one and I'll get in touch.

She-who-hates-to-see-animals-abandoned

How to lose your clientele

I'm a loyal person. I find what I like and I stick to it whether it's paper towels, tissue, canned nuts, or restaurants.

Guess which one is the subject of this post?

Sunday morning we were meeting our sons and their families at a hotel restaurant at 11 for brunch. We've eaten there several times before, both for breakfast and dinner, and our children frequent the place for both business and pleasure. We've always liked the food, the service, and the value.

Don't know about the sons, but there are two people who won't be back.

How to lose loyal clientele:

1. Serve cold coffee at 11 AM. The breakfast menus had been handed out. It's a given we're interested in breakfast. Is there no hot coffee?

2. Don't ask if we want cream. We'll just get up and help ourselves to what's left on the next table.

3. When asked for a lunch menu, only provide two for the 6 adults. Much scrambling ensued.

4. Wonderful, hot thick specialty french fries ordered. Malt vinegar asked for and received. Then why take it away when two of the entrees come with more fries? Easier to get up and retrieve than ask for.

5. Two people order quiche. It was cold. Now, it's their fault for not hauling over the manager at this point. I, myself, had a cheeseburger. I have no complaints except

6. when I asked for mayonnaise, I received my daughter-in-law's Caesar dressing. Which, of course, she had not received. I had already stuck my finger in it to taste it. Bless her heart, she figured that at 11 in the morning my finger had not been anywhere it shouldn't've been in public.

7. The bill was adjusted for the quiches without us having to ask, but then, I'll not be back.

Walking the streets

I burned up my second treadmill last week and so, until the replacement arrives, I have taken to the streets. I know I burned it up because it smelled electrical and when I wanted to stop, it didn't. I pulled its little plug very fast!

Now, I used to take to the streets all the time, to walk three miles after I had walked the children to school. Walking outside has its up side: nature and fresh air, and its down: bad weather and cars that seem to not see you. In general, I have walked on a treadmill at the gym or here at the house for at least 10 years.

So taking to the streets is not fun. Really, it's not. The streets aren't smooth around here and I've had to find a suitable route. I can't walk as fast as the treadmill will make me go (5 mph however briefly) and I carry my grandmother's cane lest an animal decide I look good enough to chomp on.

I was quite frustrated the first day because to get in the mileage took 8 minutes longer. So I have decided on a compromise: I'll do the time. I redesigned my route to include the town square twice. Of course this means early morning go-to-work traffic. And here is where I have my story.

I lacked crossing one town square street on the route to home when I saw the car. The driver, a she, had stopped and was blinking to turn right which would put us in each other's path. As I neared the intersection, she didn't turn, but stayed stopped. She was waiting on me! She must be a walker, I thought, as I smiled and waved myself across the street. She would know that to stop would interrupt my rhythm (what I have of it) and I'd be bouncing on the balls of my feet for her to move on!

So, anonymous driver, thank you!

PS: Just received an email that my new treadmill has been shipped! Whew! Due next Thursday!