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book review, Trust, by Sherri Hayes

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Book Review
Trust, by Sherri Hayes

Trust is the fourth and final book in the Finding Anna series. Anna and Stefan are apart, after her father brought the feds in and Anna chose to leave to protect Stefan at the end of the previous book.
Though this was sad in a way, the beauty of their split is that it does give Anna the chance to begin to learn to stand on her own feet and take steps to become her own person, which in the end can make her a stronger partner when she and Stefan are reunited.
The book follows their lives apart, as each learns to deal with their separation, finding little happinesses and triumphs, even as they desperately long to be together again. From separation to reunion, Stefan and Anna become who they’ve been growing into since the very beginning of the first book, and it is a delight to watch it happen. We learn the true strength at Anna’s core when she agrees to face the man who enslaved and tortured her, and testify against him in court. The dramatic courtroom scenes are exciting with an unexpected didn’t-see-it-coming resolution.
There was only one part of the story that disappointed me, and yet, in some ways, I think it had to happen, considering who Anna is and what she has been through. She hears something about Stefan and immediately believes it, refusing to talk to him or to try to verify the facts. It’s a feature in fiction that usually irritates me to no end. But when I thought of all Anna had experienced, I could understand her reactions. And even so, when Stefan is able to reach her and tell her the truth, she is able to embrace it, taking a giant leap into trust. I couldn’t help feeling so proud of her.
I fell in love with Anna and Stefan in the first book, and the conclusion of their story only made me love them more. They have grown to feel like friends, in that wonderful way fictional characters can do. I’ve wept for them, cheered for them and reveled in their story. Trust is a fitting end to their journey, as they learn to trust not only each other but their own selves. I’m going to miss them very much.

guest post

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I am posting this article,m written by a friend of mine, a review of a book she read. I completely concur with her feelings, which she expresses far better than I could. I have her permission to post this. Check out the link to her blog to read more of the Diva’s thoughts. It’s always well worth the read.

http://thedivapointofview.wordpress.com/2014/02/04/a-dispatch-from-a-diva/

Recently, I read For the Benefit of those who See: Dispatches from the World of the Blind by Rosemary Mahoney for a book club. I should have known what
was in store for me just from reading the wordy title.
Before sharing with you why I’m less than impressed with the author’s dramatic, condescending and saccharin prose, I’ll attempt to give you a concise description
of the book.
During the author’s last year of college, she was smacked in the eye by a squash racket and while her scratched cornea was healing, she was unable to see
out of her right eye. The author bemoaned her blindness—all be it temporary–and equated blindness to being trapped in a locked coffin. In short, to be
blind would be a fate worse than death. This brief limiting of the author’s vision spawned a morbid terror of losing her vision forever.
Years later, the author was asked to write an article on Braille without Borders – a school for the blind that was founded in Tibet by a blind woman and
her sighted partner. Apprehensive, disgusted and reluctantly curious, the author stayed in Tibet for an unspecified amount of time while writing her article.
After her time in Tibet, our intrepid author decided to spend three months teaching English at a school for the visually impaired in India. And from this
experience, the book in question was born.
The author interspersed an incomplete history of blindness among numerous explanations of her horror of losing her vision, her time in Tibet and India
and lengthy and unflattering descriptions of the eyes of every single person with a visual impairment she has encountered in her life. And after three
months among a small group of people who are blind from several countries, the author decided she’d gained enough insight to share her new and miraculous
understanding of the blind with her sighted peers.
Three months… A mere finger snap of time and yet… and yet the author had the audacity to believe that she could write a concise and realistic accounting
of what it means to be blind…
Well… this diva, who has been blind for 35 years, is here to tell you that the author got it all wrong.
The author ranted long and often about how it would feel to lose her precious vision. It would be like being trapped in a locked coffin, she said. Screaming
for help while the world went on, uncaring, around her. Life would be unbearable – hopeless, and pointless, the author would be sucked down into a quagmire
of helplessness and darkness with no way to communicate with the world. To die would be preferable.
As I read her completely uncensored thoughts, I felt as though somebody had walked up to me and punched me in the face without provocation. My life is
not hopeless or pointless and never has been. I have a family who loves me despite my numerous flaws, a circle of supportive friends and a job I love.
I’m happy, healthy and I contribute in a small, and hopefully, meaningful way to society. And most of the time, I don’t sit around feeling sorry for myself,
because I’ve never seen a rainbow, a sunset, twinkling stars, the Eifel Tower, flowers blooming, a movie, a smile, my dog, my mom or my own face. I do
not, as the author seems to believe, live in blissful ignorance of all the beauty and horror that surrounds me on a daily basis. I just see the world in,
to me at least, a different yet equally rewarding and fulfilling way. I choose not to sit in a dark room, sobbing inconsolably over all the things I’ll
never see. I live my life, experiencing the vivid vibrancy of the world in my own way. And death is far from preferable.
I found the author’s history lesson on the evolution of people’s attitudes toward the blind fascinating. Fascinating, because it had such a negative slant.
Her history began with biblical references and progressed through the centuries – highlighting the terrible treatment of people who were blind. The author
shared numerous examples of when the blind were treated like animals – subjected to abuse, poverty and extreme degradation. Blindness was viewed as a sin,
a punishment, a sign of reduced mental abilities… Her ever so enlightening history included a story about Helen Keller in the late 1880’s. She went to
the circus and so terrifying was she, men in the freak show ran from her in fear. And that’s basically where her history ended. It was almost as though
the 20th and 21st centuries, with all the advancements in technology and attitude, were but a brief footnote in the bleak history of the blind. She did
often quote from a book written by a math professor who lost his vision in middle age. However, this book was written during the 1940’s and reflected the
attitudes toward blindness that were common during that era.
The author spent an inordinate amount of time expanding upon stereotypes that people who are blind have been rejecting for years.
Super blind… The author waxed poetic about the founder of Braille without Borders and her ability to navigate through a congested Tibetan city without
brushing a single obstacle with her cane. While I am certain she has some mad travel skills, no blind person can walk through a bustling city without encountering
something or someone from time to time. It’s not realistic. It was as if the author had to exaggerate the travel skills of the blind people in her book
to emphasize how amazing and patient one must be to travel without sight. The author also emphasized a blind person’s other senses. The blind students
could smell her, instantly knew when she carried a mug of beer into a large room, always knew that it was she walking by due to the brisk tap-tap of her
shoes… I mean, blind people do use their other senses to pick up cues in the environment, but we aren’t infallible.
This book is full of groping. Positively flooded with scenes of blind people touching the author, other blind people and myriad objects in the environment.
In several scenes, the author was swarmed by blind students wishing to touch her – to examine her clothing, hair, face… I think I vomited a little while
reading all the scenes of blind groping. It’s disgusting and degrading and not socially appropriate
I remember talking to a little girl who was blind while I was in college. She was about four-years-old and her mom plunked her down on a table in front
of me. The girl proceeded to pat at my hair and neck. She grabbed my breast before plunging her hand down the low neckline of my shirt. Even though her
touch was completely innocent, I felt uncomfortable and violated. The child was too young to understand social cues and I’m sure that were I to meet that
girl again—a college student herself now—she would know to keep her hands to herself. Why the author didn’t tell the swarming students to get the hell
away from her shall remain forever a mystery to me.
The author wrote at length about how happy and grateful the blind adults were to be part of the Braille without Borders program in India. They walked about,
smiling as they slammed into obstacles and dumped tea down the backs of each other’s shirts on the way to the table at meals. The author’s constant references
to the patient, happy blind people were positively nauseating. I felt like I was in the midst of a joyous Disney movie. At any moment, the blind students
would leap up on the table in the author’s classroom. They would begin twirling their canes overhead while belting out an exuberant song about how wonderful
it is to be blind.
Compared to the author’s attitude at the beginning of the book, the scenes of the happy and contented blind people were dissonant and a little false. Nobody
is happy and grateful all the time. Even people who are eager to learn skills that will help them to be successful, contributing members of society.
But how will the author’s students be respected and welcomed members of society if they continue to display all the blindisms the author referenced?
They rocked. They looked down. They often sat with fists pressed to their eyes – wrapped around the person beside them. And the author did not think to
educate them about appropriate social behavior.
And finally, the aspect of the book that was, for me, the most distressing…
The author described the eyes of each and every person with a visual impairment she’s encountered throughout her life in excruciating and unflattering
detail. Not one person was described as having pretty eyes. As I read about crossed eyes, tilted eyes, eyes that rolled, were filmed with white, eyes that
wouldn’t open and eyes that constantly leaked, nausea churned about in my stomach in ever tightening, greasy knots. How would the author describe my eyes?
I’ve been told that my eyes are a pleasing shade of blue and when I take the time to put on mascara, my eyes actually look quite nice. Would the author
notice this, or would she first fixate upon the fact that I can’t always control the movement of my eyes. I don’t often worry about what people think when
they first see me, but the author’s obsessive and disrespectful descriptions of the eyes of the blind people she’s met made me start wondering…
Does the barista cringe from the sight of my eyes while making the perfect London Fog? Does it make my boss uncomfortable to sit across from me during
a meeting? When I meet with prospective students and their families, are they fixated on my blindness instead of the information I’m sharing? Do my eyes—or
something else inherently blind about me—scare off potential boyfriends? Does the majority of people I encounter view me with a mixture of fear, trepidation
and disgust just as the author so often felt around blind people?
Even as I went out for a drink with a friend, chatted on the phone and read a book, an insidious little voice seemed to whisper these pointless questions
in my ear. And I felt like absolute shit. Somehow, I’ve allowed this book to get to me… to get under my skin and hurt me deeply.
This morning, When my iPhone alerted me to the dawning of another early Monday morning, I did not want to go to work. I wanted to burrow beneath my blankets
and stay home. Not because I hate early mornings with a passion—which I do—but because I did not want to face the world today. I wanted to remain cocooned
in the comfort of my bed with a go to romance, my way of blocking out the world for a few precious and peaceful hours. It took a herculean effort for me
to put aside my dramatic discomfort so I could go to work.
And all day at work, I couldn’t stop thinking about the misrepresentation of blind people everywhere and as I answered phone calls, reviewed student files
and sat through meetings, my mind kept returning to the author and her damn book. I wonder what the blind students would think of their “Auntie Rose” if
they could read her perceptions of them. I wonder what your average sighted person thinks upon reading the author’s perception of blindness.
And that’s when I decided I needed to voice my opinion about this book.
I think this book is the author’s way of dealing with her guilt over her extreme reaction to the mere thought of losing her vision. I feel as though the
author did all she could to highlight the differences between people with sight and those with visual impairments, instead of expounding upon the similarities.
She was able to elevate the blind to a pedestal in her own mind, but even so, I still sensed a bit of self-satisfied superiority. “Yes, I can see some
positive traits in the blind while holding myself apart and slightly above them.”
I’ve decided that this book is, in essence, a way for the author to feel vindicated. It is part self-indulgent pity party and partly a way for the author
to philosophize on a subject she knows precious little about. And after ranting at the book club, on Facebook and writing a review of the book on audible.com.
After worrying and fretting about how I am perceived and after losing sleep and allowing myself to spend two days obsessing over the author’s perception
of people who are blind, I have come to this conclusion…
I shall not give this book another thought.

book review, Fan Girl, by Rainbow Rowell

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Here’s the last one for tonight. Enjoy and go read!

Fan Girl, by Rainbow Rowell
This book moved me and touched me in so many ways, because at heart, part of me is so much like Cath.

Cath and wren are twin sisters, beginning their first year of college. All their lives, they’ve done everything together. Slept in the same room, gone to the same parties, participated in and written fan fiction for the world of Simon Snow, a series of seven, nearly eight books, featuring a magical boy at a magical school who has a dastardly enemy to defeat. But for the first time, wren wants to branch out on her own and has chosen to live in a different dorm in another part of the college and have a roommate, not her sister.

This is where the story begins, with shy, introverted Cath, settling into her dorm room, stomach in knots, wishing she could crawl into the walls and hide. But she has the comfort of her fictional world, with Simon snow posters on her wall, her commemorative busts of two of the main characters, and her trusty laptop at hand, when she is ready to work on her wildly popular fan fiction story.

The story follows Cath’s first year in college, normally not my kind of thing to read. Though she tries to lose herself in her fantasy world, to hide the hurt of betrayal she feels at Wren pulling away more every day, and her concerns about her dad being left alone, college life, and her entertaining roommate, start to pull Cath out of her shell, in spite of herself. She considers herself the boring twin, the uninteresting, weak, not pretty, but as the story moves along, we come to know that Cath is the strength of her family, is the nice one, the caring one, the one to reach out and help, no matter what. And people are drawn to her. But she never gives up her love of Simon snow.

Anyone who has known me for any amount of time knows I’m involved in fandoms, mostly Harry Potter, twilight and West wing. I discovered fan fiction during the maddening three-year wait between HP4 and HP5, when I was desperate for more. I don’t have or care to have HP or twilight posters on my wall and don’t care for any Edward Cullen commemorative busts! But I enjoy reading fan fiction, particularly the stories that give me things I didn’t get in canon. So when my friend told me about this book, fan Girl, I was intrigued and amused.

The book is about Cath’s college year and beginning to grow into her own person, but it’s also a spoof of or homage to the world of fandom and fan fiction. The Simon snow parts of it are hilarious. Yes, it sounds rather like Harry Potter, but the author is careful to make it different enough so there’s no crossing of lines here. But the book is sprinkled with references to things about fan fiction. At the end of each chapter,there is a brief section with either parts of the Simon snow story, or parts of Cath’s fan fiction story, or funny allusions to highly popular fan fiction sites. There was one section that was so close to things you see on the home page of www.fanfiction.net, that I laughed aloud. There are quick almost missed it sort of jokes relating to other fandoms. Such as one time when Cath asks her boyfriend if he’s going to sit there and watch her sleep, and he says, of course not, your name isn’t Bella, is it? A nod to Twilight there and the way vampire Edward who doesn’t sleep would watch human Bella sleep. Or as all HP fans know, the author, J. K. Rowling is lovingly known as JKR among most Harry Potter fans, and in Fan girl they refer to the author of Simon snow as GTL, her initials. Fan Girl is riddled with such things. And they make the book so funny, lightening it up when it gets sad in places in Cath’s life.

Having said all that, the strength and beauty of this story is Cath’s journey, finding herself, making friends, learning to step beyond her fictional second life into the real world. She deals with her father’s breakdown, her sister’s alcohol poisoning and a classmate stealing her class work, each experience helping her grow and become so much more than the terrified girl she was at the beginning. And so when the time comes that she has to make a decision to set aside Simon snow to do the right thing, the scary thing, you want to cheer her on and counsel her to do what we all know she should do. I’m not giving away spoilers to say that one of the last scenes is Cath and her sister, roommate and boyfriend standing in line at the midnight release of the last Simon Snow book release. Ah, I did that a few times. And for a blind person who had to wait sometimes years to be able to read the books in real time that my friends were reading, being able to stand in line to get my audio book of the last three HP books, right there with sighted folks, that was a special time for me, and so this scene in the book made me smile a lot.

The author of fan Girl obviously did research into the world of fandom, or has been involved in that world. And yet, though the book is a kind of spoof, it is as I said earlier, an homage to the world of fandom as well. People who make fun of Cath for it in the beginning come to understand and respect her for it anyway. Her boyfriend who has trouble reading likes to listen to her read the stories to him. I just don’t know how to express the depth and beauty of this book. People who turn up their noses at fandom and fan fiction may not get it or might laugh at me, thinking, hmmm, 50 something woman still enjoying fan fiction? And if this book was only about being involved in wildly popular fandoms, it wouldn’t be as interesting and wonderful as it is. Cath is someone you sympathize with. If you were ever the scared shy kid at school, or dreaded being out of your comfort zone, avoided parties and large groups of people you don’t know, wanted to cling to the few people you trusted and didn’t know how to cope when they went in different directions, then you can relate to cath. I was all those things. Shy introverted, terrified of groups of people I didn’t know, afraid to speak up lest people think I sounded weird, nervous and withdrawn outside my comfort zone. So Cath’s story touches the depth of my heart, the places where that girl I was still hides away inside the woman I’ve become. I want Cath to succeed in everything, to come out of her shell, to make friends, to be strong, to get the boy, and to finish writing her fan fiction. And by the end, you see the Cath who is emerging, and all you can do is applaud, because she’s come so far. I hope the author might give us more of Cath in the future, but even if she doesn’t, the ending of this book is satisfying and perfect.

book review, Frozen in Time, Mitchell zuckoff

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Here’s another great book. Check it out and go forth and read. and as always, you can contact me at [email protected]

Frozen in time, by Mitchell Zuckoff
Recounts the crash of three U.S. military planes-including a B-17 bomber-in Greenland in 1942. Describes the crew members’ struggle to survive the Arctic
conditions and the search for the wreckage of one of the downed flights seven decades later.

The annotation gives you a good idea of what this book is about, but it can’t describe the depth and intensity of this book. Its two alternating story lines, the story of the men who survived over five months following their plane crashing on a Glacier in Greenland in 1942-43. Nine men were in the bomber when it crashed. The story of how they tried to survive, how they held themselves together and the story of those who risked their own lives trying to rescue them, well, it’s incredible. It has all the plot elements of the great adventure novels, but in this case, the story is true. The other story line involves a modern day search for wreckage of one of the rescue parties whose plane also crashed and disappeared. The author was part of this expedition and writes with detail and excitement as the party makes their way onto that same glacier trying to find the heroes. This was not a book to read at night, because it kept me up for hours, wondering what would happen. Would the men of the B17 PN9E plane ever get rescued? Would they survive the months of cold beyond what most of us can ever imagine? How do they keep each other from giving up? And then there’s the deep longing and hope that the modern day story will end with finding the other plane that went missing in a rescue attempt. the utter courage and determination of the men struggling to survive, those who vowed never to give up till they could rescue them, and then the current explorers wanting to bring closure and bring their lost men home. The author was able to interview the families of the survivors and gives real insight into their personalities, the kind of men who would not, could not give up.

If you love a story with adventure, valour and suspense, but a story that is all true, give this one a shot. I’m so glad I did.

book review: Into the Storm, Melanie Moreland

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Into The Storm
By Melanie Moreland

Book Description
She is a woman on the run. Pain, loneliness and terror are what she is leaving. Where she is headed doesn’t matter as long as it’s away from the hell her
life has become.
Joshua Bennett is trapped in a prison of his own making by the memories of his past. Traumatized and isolated, he is a reclusive writer, living a quiet,
lonely life, his only companion his dog, Bear. It is what he knows, what he has accepted to be his life.
One dark night, one huge storm, and one ice patch brings them together. He finds himself with an unexpected houseguest with no memory. She wakes up a stranger
to herself and the man watching her. Even more mysterious is the lack of any sort of identification with her or in her car. She is an enigma to both of
them.
Trapped by the storm and isolated from the outside world, they slowly open up, learning to trust and love, until the world once again shows up, threatening
the fragile peace of their newly discovered world, and tearing them apart.
There are many twists and turns as they struggle to find each other, overcoming both the mental and physical elements that keep them apart.
A story about overcoming our fears, finding love and learning to live again.

My thoughts
The description sums up the basic plot very well without giving away too much and without touching on some of the finer details, things I loved so much about this novel. First of all, it is written mostly in Joshua’s point of view. I found this refreshing, because we didn’t get much of the typical female romance novel character attitude of low self-worth or not being good enough or jumping to the absolute worst conclusion before she’s heard the whole truth, things that always raise my hackles in most romance novels. But in this book, even though Rabbit—Joshua’s name for his mysterious house guest—has reason to fear, reason to have low self-worth, reason to jump to the all the wrong conclusions, what we see through his eyes is a woman of true inner strength, who grows through the story from the scared rabbit into a confident happy woman. And her strength is believable and realistic to me. Joshua’s phobia about leaving his property is touching, and the ways he works to overcome it made me want to cheer him, every bit as much as I wanted to cheer when Rabbit stands up to the one who had sent her running for her life in the first place.
And then there’s Bear, the wonderful, goofy dog, possibly my favorite character! He’s silly and protective and loving, just as a good dog should be. I’d like to introduce him to my own two dogs.
Joshua and Rabbit have some secondary characters that I came to adore, true friends who unwavering support was one of the strengths of this story for me.
The journey both main characters take into growing, into healing, into love, kept me reading straight through. I wanted them to succeed. I cared about what happened to them. I loved their little world and wished I could find them and say hello.
Overall, it was a great book, and I enjoyed every minute as I read. There was one thing that really surprised me, and that was delightful, being surprised in a romance. I applaud Melanie Moreland for giving us a story that is fresh, not overdone with angst, but with flawed characters, both male and female, neither being the super tough all-confident being that no real person is. I will certainly buy any future books this author may write, and I highly recommend this.

Eleven Years Ago

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Eleven Years ago

I’m writing this at about 9:20 AM on Saturday, January 18, 2014.

Eleven years ago today, at this exact time, and a Saturday too, Bianca came wagging into my life. I can remember that first meeting as if it just happened last year. I’d been waiting and waiting to begin training with a new guide dog, and on that day, at last, my in-home training was to begin. What would she be like? How quickly would we bond? Would she love me? Would I be able to be all she needed? Would we become one hell of a great team, kicking the world’s ass as we went through life together? Well, the time was at hand, and soon I’d know.

January 18, 2003
The phone rings. The trainer is at my door with my dog. Finally! How many miles have I paced in my rug this morning anyway? How many times have I played the Beatles song, Because, thinking how suitable the words seem to be on this momentous occasion?

“Because the wind is high, it makes me cry.”
A song of joy, a song of happiness. Idly, I wonder if I could play it on the guitar, though it’s not that kind of song and I don’t even have a guitar.
I grab the phone. Am I shaking? Seriously?
“Hello?” I sound breathless I notice.
It’s got to be them! It’s just gotta be them!
“We’re here. Let us in.” the instructor said through the tinny sound of the intercom.
Quickly pressing the button and hanging up, I tossed the handset on the counter and raced to the door. Well, the apartment is small, so there isn’t far to race, but still, I race. I open the door, turning my ear to the hall, listening, listening. Where is that damn elevator? Why is it taking so long? Wait! Is that it? Yes! Ding, the bell rings, indicating the elevator has arrived on my floor. Freezing, I strain my hearing, as if being completely still, motionless, will make me hear better and make them arrive sooner.
I feel that my smile will split my face in two as I hear quiet footsteps heading down my hall, accompanied by the unmistakable jingle of a collar and leash. Holding my breath, I continue to wait, standing perfectly still, not blinking, not even reaching out my hand. They turn the corner, and the instructor begins to chuckle.
“Well, good morning to you,” he says. “You’re not excited or anything, are you?”
If possible I smile even wider.
“Oh, maybe just a little excited.”
He stops a few paces from me, and the sound of the dog collar and leash is silent. Damn, I want to leap into that hall and grab that dog!
“Go on in and sit on your couch,” he says, “I’ll bring her to you.”
Pretending a calm I don’t feel, I walk to my couch and sit. And now, the anxiety falls over me. My stomach goes into knots, and the questions and pleas begin again to churn in my mind.
Please let her like me. Please let us get along. Please, oh please, let this work out! In the few seconds it takes him to cross the floor with my dog, the desperate prayers leave my heart. Did I say them aloud?
“Here she is.” He puts a smooth leather leash into my hand. The leash is new, still hard from the lack of constant handling. “Sherry, this is Bianca.”
Suddenly, my lap and my arms are full of wiggling dancing Labrador, and my heart is lost to this creature forever.
“Bianca, Bianca,” I murmur softly to her, as I run my hands over her. “Why, you’re just like a real live beanie baby, aren’t you? And you’re all mine, my very own Beanie Baby. Such a pretty girl.”
She’s wagging so hard that her whole body is wiggling; only her head is still as she burrows into me. Then she begins to kiss me all over my face. I laugh, and she wags, and the bond between us is locked, cemented forever. I can almost hear it snap into place.
She’s small, something like twenty or twenty-one inches and not even sixty pounds. She snorts and looks back at the trainer, then begins kissing me again. I continue to run my hands over her, feeling the movement of the air from her wildly wagging tail. I bend and kiss her head. I can’t help it, and I bend and kiss her head again. I love her. I love her!
“Oh, she’s adorable,” I say to our trainer. The joy and delight are ringing in my voice. “I love her. I love her already!”
He laughs too.
“I’m so glad. I knew you two would be a perfect match. Sit there and get to know your girl while I go get her stuff from my van. We’ll talk a bit and then we’ll go for the first walk.”
This is the beginning. From the first moment we met, and then from our first walk as guide and handler, Bianca is my soul mate dog. She makes me laugh every day we’ve been together. She lets me cry on her when I’m down. During the years she was my guide dog, she gave me confident and safe travel and a companion who is sweet as well as highly mischievous. There are times I think I’ll wring her neck, when she steals something from the counter or shreds another paper towel or unrolls a whole roll of toilet paper! There are the moments I weep at the idea that her time is limited. I would not change a day. I would not change her for anything, mischief and all.

Eleven years later, though she is retired and is now nothing but a pampered much loved pet, Bianca, Beanie Baby is still a joy to my heart and life. She will be thirteen next month, and I know that I have little time left with her. Her breed doesn’t normally live beyond thirteen or fourteen. She’s still in good health, a little arthritis, a little blind, maybe a little deaf. But she still runs to the door. She still wiggles and wags, dancing through life.
Thank you for the years and the laughter and the joy you have brought into my life. I’ll never regret any of the moments we’ve walked through life together, and when you’re gone, the memory of eleven years ago will bring tears, both happy and sad. My guide, my companion, my friend, thank you for it all, for giving all you had to me, and bringing me to depths of love, even at the worst of your times, that I never reached with any of my other guides. When you’re gone, I’ll remember and know how very much I was blessed on that morning eleven years ago when you came dancing into my life and changed it forever.

***
if you read this and would like to comment, you can email me at [email protected]

I still don’t know how to get comments working on here proplerly!

Thanksgiving thoughts

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Thanksgiving Thoughts

28 November 2013

As I sit in my rocking chair this morning, drinking my second cup of coffee and listening to Christmas music, I contemplate all the things for which I am thankful today. My beautiful condo, my very own home. My lovely furniture, the yard my dogs can play in, and all the material things I Have, blessings every one. But mostly, when I think of why I am thankful, I think of the people in my life.

My parents who brought me into this world.

My dad and mom of my heart, who taught me to be strong and independent and confident, who taught me how to manage disabilities and kept me healthy and mobile, in spite of the odds against it.

My brothers and sister who have been sources of joy since they were born.

My friends, past and present, near and far, face-to-face or from the net, who made me laugh and cry, who loved and supported me no matter what, who all helped me become better than I was before. Some of those dear friends encouraged me to write, my fan fiction my novel, and if I’m ever published, it will be due to them.

After all, even with the wonder of owning my first home, none of that would have happened without the friends who encouraged me, educated me, kicked my ass, and held my hand every step of the way.

And of all those friends, I’m so deeply grateful for the Hegel family, who made me part of their family and have loved me through the best and worst in my life. Where would I be without you?

And for Doug, my comrade, my friend, brother, soul mate, and everything in between and so so much more.

Thank you Lord for the gifts, the blessings of the people you have brought into my life. No physical material thing could ever be better than that!

birthdays and dentists

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i’m telling myself I’m going to actually do some blogging here on this site. at least, until I can find someone who can help me do more than just post blogs and book reviews!

So, my birthday was Tuesday, the 22nd. Weird to be 56 now. I don’t feel 56. I feel more like when I was in my thirties or early forties. I don’t consider myself a senior citizen, even though I could now sign up for AARP or get discounts at restaurants. It feels so strange. Next year, I’ll be the same age as my dad was when he died in 1997. Can I possibly truly outlive my father? Weird.

But the birthday itself was great. Really. I worked all day, but I got tons of birthday wishes on facebook and twitter. My friend, Jannie gave me two books, kindle books. she’s from Denmark, and she sent me a book of Danish folk tales,a nd another book called countrymen by a Danish author. I love reading about her country. Someday, I shall visit.

Doug, my best friend, brother of the heart, most loved person, he gave me the book John, by Cynthis Lennon. I’m so excited to read that. He knows the Beatles are the ultimate for me.

And Brigit gave me a gift card from amazon, which I promptly used to increase my Chjristmas music collection. Oh yes, it is that time. In fact, the Christmas music is playing right now. My playlist could go for almost three weeks straight!

Ah, and now to the dentist part of this post. Hmmm, what can I say? I hate going to the dentist. I’m one of those ridiculous dental cowards. and the crazy thing is that I’m not afraid of doctors,a nd doctors are the ones who’ve done all the joint replacements and all. But alas, I lost part of a filling a couple months back, and it got infected. So, I went to the dentist, who gave me antibiotics and sent me off to an oral surgeon to have the tooth pulled. Twenty years ago, the dentist could have just pulled it. Seriously, due to my JRA, which affects every joint in my body, including my jaw, and the tooth being way in the back, on the bottom, it would be pretty hard to fix the filling and all that. so, having it pulled makes sense.

Off I went yesterday to the oral surgeon for a consult yesterday. Tomorrow, the tooth will be pulled. This surgeon knowsd his stuff. He knows that giving me general anesthesia might not be a good idea. With my mouth not able to open wide, if I have to be intubated, they have to use fiber optic tubes down the nose instead of through the mouth. But oral surgeons don’t have that kind of equipment. so he recommend the :laughing gas”, nitrous oxide. He even offered me a valium to help me stay calm pre appointment, but I refused. I mean seriously? Oh my glorious pride! It’s the day before and I’m freaking out. Just saying. lol.

Well, not that anyone reads this, but if you do, wish me luck and say a few prayers!

Adventures in Home Ownership

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ADVENTURES IN HOME OWNERSHIP

Part One

I suppose my adventures in home ownership truly began back in May of this year, 2013, but that’s another story. This is all about living in my home, the very first week.

I signed the papers and became a proud and thankful home owner on September 11, somewhere between four and five in the afternoon. And that was the last time I saw my home until I moved in on September 28. That first night, my realtors and I went back to the condo, because of course, I just had to go there. It was mine! It was mine! And I’d waited one hell of a long time for it. I’d wanted to own my own place since I first moved out of my dad’s home, when I was eighteen. I’m now, well, somewhat older than that. Fifty-five, to be exact. Years of renting, of worrying about damage to the apartments, of wishing I could have colors for walls and carpet other than apartment complex white or beige, of knowing my dogs left messes or indestructible amounts of hair, of wondering how high the rent would go next year. Finally, at long last, it wasn’t a worry anymore.

So, Tom and Beth and I, along with my dog Olga, came to the condo after closing. We drank wine and ate cheese and crackers. We talked about where furniture would go, and we discussed paint colors and accent walls. It was a feeling no words of mine can ever describe.

But the condo needed some work. Though the owner claimed she didn’t smoke, it had a reek of stale cigarette smoke, something like the days of staying in cheap motels that didn’t worry about non smoking rooms, and that horrid closed in cigarette smoke that enveloped and saturated everything. The water heater needed to be replaced. Getting rid of the smoke smell meant new paint and new carpet. The yard needed some fixing up of the fence so the dogs couldn’t get out. The Hegel family worked hours upon hours cleaning and painting. Carpet was installed the day before I moved in. After counting hours and days and just about counting minutes and seconds, the day came for me to move in.

I stayed at my friends’ home the night before, and while I slept restlessly, they were at the condo, putting outlet covers back, making sure the paint job was perfect, getting it ready for me.

Gathering at the old apartment, the Hegel family, accompanied by some neighborhood boys, the moving party commenced. Joylene and I finished sealing boxes, and then we headed over to the new place, at last. It was the first time for me getting the full effect of the changes. Slipping off my shoes, I reveled in the feel of the new carpet under my bare feet. I’d never had some thick cushy carpet. The stale cigarette smell was completely erased, as if it had never been there. Walking from room to room, I brushed my hands lightly over walls and counters, bent to touch the carpet, stroked the blinds and drapes. I opened drawers and closets and marveled that this was all mine.

Then we left. We took the dogs to get bathed, did other errands and took the moving gang out to lunch. I stopped to buy some wine in order to celebrate later. We moved in the new furniture, moved in the old furniture and didn’t unpack a single box! That night, when everyone was gone, I sat in my living room, soaking in the scents and sounds, the ambiance of my home. When I went to bed I felt contentment like nothing I’d experienced before.

But, alas, the next morning, I realized, my coffee maker was set up, but I didn’t know where the coffee was! We’d left things at the apartment, food mostly, things that would be brought over that day, but was the coffee there. Oh, oh, oh, no coffee to start my day. I drank Pepsi instead and waited patiently, because Joylene was coming with coffee and breakfast, and we would be unpacking. All day long.

And now the fun begins. If you consider a series of crazy catastrophes as an auspicious beginning, then the first week of actually living in my home has to be the luckiest week ever.

Oh Monday, I was sitting happily on my rocking chair, drinking coffee. I got up to do something, and when I came back and reached for my coffee cup, I knocked it over and the coffee spilled right on my pretty new carpet and all over my keyboard. Now, I’m not one who spills things much, cautious and careful, always knowing where my things are. I knew that cup was there, but somehow, over it went! “Oh dear,” said I. Hmmm, I must confess I actually said things a bit stronger than that. Rushing to the kitchen, I grabbed paper towels, wiped up the coffee, set damp cloths over the spot and scrubbed. Fortunately, the carpet doesn’t show coffee stains, but still, that was my first carpet accident, and it was all me! And the keyboard, it was toast!

Another day that week, Bianca, my twelve-year-old black lab retired guide dog, somehow managed to steal some ibuprofen out of a friend’s purse. Um yeah, let the carpet accidents begin! She threw up in every room in the place, except my bedroom and office and the guest bathroom. She went to the vet for the day, came home and proceeded to throw up even more! That landed her at the vet’s for two days, so she could get fluids and be observed, as ibuprofen overdoses can be extremely serious for dogs. I was worried, of course, but for those who have heard Bianca stories over the years, this is something that happens with her, and since she hadn’t done something so spectacularly dangerous in a number of years, I guess it was about time. I shrugged my shoulders over the carpet stains and thanked God my rascal dog had survived, again.

But this wasn’t the end of the catastrophes! Oh no, indeed not. Not quite.

On Friday night, I was relaxing with a glass of wine. Yay for the weekend, a whole two days to bask in the joy of my home. Deciding to wash a few dishes, including a wine glass from earlier in the week, I headed to the kitchen. Placing my glass on the counter, well away from my arms, I began to work at the sink. As I was washing a wine glass, it fell over, in the sink, and CRASH! It shattered into many lovely crystal pieces.

“No!”

Sadly, I went about finding all the pieces. With plastic bags over my hand, I fished around in the sink and down the garbage disposal, hoping I’d found all the glass shards. It’s just a wine glass, I told myself repeatedly, just a wine glass.

At last, when I was sure it was safe, the glass all thrown away, I decided to go back to the living room. I was christening my first Friday night in my home with a few episodes of the west wing, the greatest show ever to appear on television. Reaching for my glass of wine—remember the glass of wine I’d placed safely on the counter out of the way? Well, I found it all right. CRASH! Over it went. And the glass shattered, and the wine spread everywhere, drenching the counter and stove in glorious red wine. And shards of glass.

I shrieked.

I screeched.

I wailed.

I sobbed.

I most definitely swore.

Burying my face in my hands for a moment, I stood there wondering what to do next! It was late, and I couldn’t call for help from anyone.

What do you do when you don’t know what the heck to do? You do what comes next. And what came next was cleaning up wine and glass. Mostly glass, because the dogs and I could get some serious cuts.

Scrounging for more plastic bags, I covered my hands and began to feel around the counter and floor, picking up all the glass I could find. I hunted up extra towels, trying to sop up all the wine. There was an amazing puddle. Wine really spreads when it spills! Ah well, at least it wasn’t the carpet! Leaving the towels to soak up the wine, I laid a towel on the floor in the general area of the incident, just in case any glass had fallen on the floor, to protect the bare feet of me and the dogs. Sighing, I went back to finish the west wing episodes, calling myself a few choice names and wondering why I, who is cautious and careful and who just doesn’t spill things, had managed to break two wine glasses in one night!

The next day, Dan came with a carpet cleaner and now you’d never know a dog had thrown up all over the brand new carpet. The wine and glass were pretty much cleared up, and he helped find the few tiny pieces I’d missed, fortunately, all on the counter, none on the floor. Unpacking continued. The place was really beginning to feel like home at last.

And since then, that last horrible Friday night with the wine glasses? Nothing, nada, rien, no problems. No spilled coffee, no dog being sick, no broken wine glasses. Of course, there’s no wine either, but details, details! It’s like all that weird craziness of the first week never happened at all, and life is normal.

And every night, as I prepare for bed, I walk around my condo, touching walls, stroking furniture, feeling the carpet under my feet. A warmth of joy and gratitude comes over me, sometimes tears spring to my eyes, as I think that after all these years, this particular dream has come true. I have a home, my own home, a beautiful, comfortable, welcoming home. A place I am proud to show off, a place where I want to welcome guests, a place where I sleep in peace, a place a home, a dream. And it’s mine. And I’m thankful.

book review, Truth by sherri Hayes

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Truth, by Sherri Hayes

I am thrilled to be participating in the blog tour for this book. From the first page of slave, the first book in the Finding Anna series, I was hooked, captivated, drawn into this world, deeply caring about the characters. This new book, Truth, was no exception.
It starts exactly where book two ended, with the arrival of Brianna’s father. Brianna terrified lost in herself and in panic, Stephan, terrified, desperately trying to get to her. Throughout the book, there is the sense of the outside world beginning to close in around Stephan and Brianna, even as we see their strength as individuals and as a couple grow.
As Brianna takes each step forward, I read with my breath held at times, feeling her fear and then feeling Stephan’s pride. Sherri Hayes makes me feel these characters in my heart. I want to cheer when Brianna excels or combats her fears and inner demons. I want to hug Stephan for his never-failing care and gentleness with her.
When the ending came I was shocked and in a way heartbroken, and yet, it is exactly how this had to go. Stephan has done everything to help Brianna, and now she can do something for him. At the same time, it is her greatest leap into trying to live; gaining self-confidence and strength that she has taken so far, absolutely what she needed to do. But I think I’m going to weep from the idea of waiting a whole year till I can learn what happened next!
It’s hard to describe why this series means so much to me. It’s not like anything else I’ve read. The depth of the writing, the strength of the characters, it’s all part of it. I am more interested in characters than anything else in a book, and Stephan and Brianna ring a chord with me. As I read and see not only Brianna’s growth but Stephan’s as well, I feel like I am watching two friends surmount terribly odds and coming out on the other side, strong and proud and confident. I wish I could meet them and tell them how much I applaud who they are, even though, of course, I know they are only fiction. Perhaps that’s the greatest compliment I can pay the and their creator. I read many many books, but rarely do I feel such a connection and even more rarely do the characters live on with my imagination year to year.