Moving On

If you know me, you know how much I love houses. I've talked and written about my desire to sell the home I shared with my husband for so many years and find a cottage of my own.  A place to  jump start my life once again and get my creative juices flowing.  Part of that journey is captured on another blog The Cottage In My Mind.  When I wrote my widow memoir, I was still so happy in my house. So many good things came in the following years. But I knew if I stayed in my home of thirty years my life would still be good, but it would never be different. I felt change had stopped and I needed to kick start myself again.

This year I moved on. The universe and the man above took me an hour outside of Atlanta to a charming small, slightly rural, town where I now reside with my pack of hounds in a wonderful 1906 Historic cottage.

The biggest adjustment for me? There is no pizza delivery here. No delivery of any kind of food. I am the gal that doesn't cook and ordered dinner through Grub Hub so I could stay in on a rainy night or groceries from Instacart when I was too darn lazy to get in my car and buy dog food.  I am learning to plan ahead. My little town does have a grocery store, but they don't carry my brand of dog food. When you run out of kibble and have five dogs staring you down at dinner time you learn to get organized quickly.

I am fifteen minutes in any direction from lots of shopping, but I see pastures of cows and horses on my drive. I am only an hour away from my friends in Decatur so we still have dinners out. I like to go visit Decatur, but my heart and home are now here in Social Circle. My friends like to come and shop the great antique shops in the surrounding towns.

My farm fantasy is well fed. I landed here in the middle of a chicken war, where folks were campaigning to change the city ordinance to allow backyard chickens. The ordinance changed and, gee, I could have six chickens in my yard if I were a crazy lady who wanted to have five dogs in an uproar. Won't have chickens, or goats, or sheep, or horses on my property, but I see them everywhere I drive.

I think the most amazing thing is at 68 years of age I made a major move to my dream house. I didn't go to a condo. I didn't downsize because I am getting older. For some folks that is what they want. And we all need to do what we want, especially at this age. Smaller was never in my vocabulary. I am an antique furniture freak. I have a passion for old cupboards, farm tables, artwork, and never plan to give up the things I love, the way of life I have made for myself, until they put my ashes in a lovely vintage urn. Then come to the biggest estate sale my friends will conduct.

My one concession, all my rooms had to be on one floor. Gone are the days I want to climb stairs, my hip surgeries brought that message home. In reality, my dogs can't go up stairs either. The short legged hounds couldn't get to a bedroom on another floor, and we all sleep together, all the time.

I look at my cottage in awe. Eleven foot ceilings with amazing deep crown molding. A center hallway that holds more furniture than any room in my old house. The previous owner renovated this cottage so beautifully with an attention to detail that is beyond what I would have done. My hard work was hiring someone to paint all the walls white. The house sparkles in the sunlight.

The dogs love the yard. I did put up a privacy fence to keep them contained and well, private. What they don't see they don't bark at. The yard, as I look out my kitchen window, is beautiful. Flowers keep blooming. Lots of roses by the little white shed and herbs down the driveway. A huge front porch begs for friends to visit and share stories over wine.

The last twelve months were difficult. My hip surgeries, the loss of my mother, selling my house in Florida that she lived in, and finally selling my house that was the home I shared with my husband when he was alive. Letting go of so much to move on. I still have difficulty walking, but I managed to keep moving forward.

My hip surgeries scared me. Living by myself with all my dogs a constant fear nagged at me. What if something else happened? If I stayed in my old house I had the comfort of the closeness of friends and all that was familiar. I lived next door to a hospital. When my husband died, I felt sorrow, but I had my health and could run from my fears. When my health became an issue I was vulnerable. I couldn't run away from myself, I could barely move on a walker at first. In a new town I would be totally on my own.

I had to make this move. Letting fear rule was not my style. If not now, when? After all, I am not getting any younger.

The timing was perfect. My house sold the same day I listed it. I put an offer in on this cottage the next day. Thirty days later we sat at a closing table. I sold my house in the morning and purchased my new home at lunch. I had thirty days to get my act together and move.

The "cottage in my mind" is now my reality. Yes, I am getting older, but I am living on my own terms again. The move proved what I knew in my heart. With faith and courage anything is possible.

I. AM. HERE. HEAR ME ROAR.

 The little house in my back yard. Plan A is to make it a studio.

Plan B is to keep it for storage of all the furniture I am still buying.

NOT The NY Times Best Seller Book Club

 

Death memoirs, farm memoirs, aging gracefully guides, and books with dogs on the covers. And I thought I could start a book club. It is beginning to come together!

 

As much as I love books, buy books, hoard books, I rarely finish reading one. My nightstand is full of books I plan to read . . . maybe, sooner or later. Maybe part of that problem is the fact I am not a big fiction reader. I like essays and stories about people who find their path after a sad event. How pleasant is that? One of my favorite books was A Three Dog Life by Abigail Thomas, her memoir on her husband's brain injury. Stephen King said it was his favorite memoir, according to the blurb on the book. Of course, the fact she had a three dog life and I had my six dog life, was a big draw, too. I read that book in the early days of loosing my husband. It made me read her earlier books and now her latest book What Comes Next and How To Like It. That lead me to reading books on having a wonderful life as I age.  I am excited to attend a class on Saturday by Claire Cook (author Must Love Dogs, etc) on reinventing yourself. Her book Never Too Late: Your Roadmap To Reinvention is on my Kindle.

What brought me to the books above is the dog connection. Would I have read these books if a dog had not drawn me in? None of my friends are reading books on how to be fun and older. Nor my weird memoirs. Maybe a cat on the cover would have worked for them. Me, always a sucker for dogs and always drawn into animals on the cover. (This might be a good time to make note of that for your next book cover to my author friends.)

To give you a handle on my quirky reading, I am also reading a memoir on a pig and on owning chickens. My farm fantasy is alive and well as my reading habits keep changing.

I started a book club last year with visions of finding books less known and publicized. My goal was to read local authors, self-published authors, and have authors visit our book club meetings. I called the group The NOT The New York Times Book Club. Perhaps I am not the best one to start a book club, but I like to try new things as I age! (my books on aging tell me this is a positive!)

Our first three selections were NY Times Best Seller Books. I drank wine at our meetings and stuffed my face with food, these were not the books I wanted to share. But I am not an ogre, so I let the members pick what they wanted to read. To set an example for all members, I didn't read the books they picked, noting that you could come to the meeting and feel comfortable even if you had not finished the month's selection. I like to be a positive role model.

In the midst of my looking for 'memoir' style books to enjoy, a friend bought me A Moveable Feast as a gift. All the research I did for my little picture book for my dog Miss April in Paris (A Dog Dreams of Paris) gave me the French connection. He thought I'd love the book. He was spot on.  So, at the last book club meeting, another NY Times best seller I had not read, everyone looked at me and asked, "So just what are you reading?" I had to hold back my giggle (I am not mature for my age) and smiled sweetly at them. "Hemingway." They looked at me strangely. "A Moveable Feast".  I went from dolt to intellectual with those few words. Loved it! Then we went back to discussing the book everyone had read and I had not.

Sometimes you need those moments. Enjoy them. They can make a good story, too.

I am happy to report the group is seeing things more my way! Next Sunday we have local authors sharing their books with our members. Four women, who write amazing books you might not find without knowing they are there, will talk with us and share their writing experiences. They call themselves The Book Widows (I swear I did not choose them for their name because I am a widow and so easily influenced by things I am familiar with). They refer to themselves as Book Widows, like golf widows. The men in their lives do not go to book clubs. I am friends with one of the authors and this is going to be fun.

Finally. I Will Have My Way!

There are so many awesome books that never get the recognition they deserve. Fiction, non-fiction, any genre is included in this statement.  The Book Widows have got me looking at fiction, too.  Especially if there is a dog on the cover!

Would love some suggestions on books you have found that may be hard to find if not on the NY Times Best Seller list.

Links to The Book Widows:  Please do not tell them I have not read their books!
But I have copies on my nightstand!

Valerie Joan Connors

Susan Clotfelter Jimison

Rona Simmons

Constance McKee

Susan, Constance, Rona, Valerie

Thanks for reading! To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog, click here: 
http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-jan-2016/

Breakfast of Champions Not

Looking at this picture makes me giggle and makes me hungry. It also reminds me that I am not only failing my character Mallory (last seen at the Waffle House - if curious check earlier posts) my very own breakfast of champions is  . . . well, pathetic.

I don't cook. I used to bring in things to zap in the microwave. And, at one time I purchased frozen Jimmy Dean breakfast bowls that gave the illusion I was eating a real breakfast. Now, I pop some pills, drink my coffee, and start the day checking on Facebook posts and Pinterest. Those two sites are my morning companions. My virtual friends. I leave comments and it seems like a conversation to me.

Of course, there are the dogs. I talk to them every morning as I teeter about, trying to get my balance, that hip that still needs surgery keeping me from my normal activities. Although, I have to ask myself these days, What is normal for me? I've been dealing with hip issues for over a year.

The six-pack of hounds are my constant companions. I talk to them, they wag their tails, then they stare, wanting to be fed. I actually get more of a response on Facebook, folks liking my pithy comments, than I get from hungry dogs who are just thinking about themselves.

The dogs have learned the meaning of brunch. BS (before surgery) I got up at seven am and all the dogs ran down the hall, anxious for breakfast. I couldn't feed them fast enough. Now AS (after surgery and another big BS, as I have to have the other hip done sometime after the first of the year) I barely teeter down the hallway. The dogs run out. I refresh their water bowl. They run back in expecting food. They are greeted with a handful of biscuits. You have to wait, I tell them. I can't move. I pop a pain pill, grab my coffee and head to the computer. I have to get myself together before I can start serving their breakfast. Six bowls in six different locations. Each has to be lowered with a grip as I can't bend to reach the floor.

I read somewhere in a dog manual that the one who controls the food controls the pack. And the alpha eats first. That be me. Even if only coffee, pills, and maybe something to nibble on, they see I am getting something, they are not. The hounds are very very respectful of me these days. They do get treats before meals and they have learned to like that. Even my old sick gal, Annabelle, perks up, waiting to see what treats come her way. She is hanging with me a little longer to see how much rotisserie chicken she can gulp down in her remaining days. The dogs love to eat. It is the biggest part of their day.

Let's face it, I love to eat, too. As much as the dogs do. And I don't have to wait for someone to feed me. But, I don't like to prepare food. When my husband was alive, I did cook breakfast. Every. Single. Morning.  We had a trade off. He cooked dinner. Every. Single. Night.

On my own I have reverted back to my old ways. How I was before we met. So many years ago. I life-time ago. Never cooking, eating out, or bringing in take out. My idea of breakfast was a left-over cold pizza slice. Yum. (I do have a small pizza in the freezer. Perhaps I will upgrade today. After all, it's not delivery. It's DiGiorno! That almost seems home cooked.)

I rallied for a bit after my hip surgery in May.  I learned to love cereal and milk again. In the hospital.  I carried that breakfast theme over to my return home and the next two months. Little single bowls of cereal that I could add my milk and plastic spoon and make it to the computer to have a healthier, simple breakfast with my friends on Facebook and Pinterest. A few bones tossed at the hounds and we were all good for thirty minutes or more.

I am addicted to certain rituals for short periods of time.  It depends how much I was influenced by them at first meeting. Hospital food was . . . well, you know, hospital food. Cereal, milk, and fruit was refreshing in comparison to an unknown egg mixture with strange potatoes that were fried, I think, but could not be certain.  Coming home I continued the cereal tradition.

This was not my first addiction to breakfast with cereal. In 1988 (some of you may not have been born then. Argh to you.) my mother and I went to England. She was a recent widow and wanted to travel. We stayed at a very small hotel off Trafalgar Square in London. Their breakfast included milk (in a silver pitcher), small boxes of cereal so we could choose our favorites, fresh apricots, and toast with tiny packets of lovely jams. The table cloth was a thick white cotton, the utensils were real silver, cloth napkins, and a bud vase with a rose. Upon returning home, I had that breakfast for months. There was no table, no cloth, no silver, but there were real apricots. OMG. I lived for breakfast. The memories were happy and strong. So much so, that my little fictional novel, Danger In Her Words, included the same description for a breakfast as one of the characters loved her English breakfast and kept the tradition going upon return to her home. (Write what you know. I know cereal, milk, and apricots!)

My recent cereal experience fell short of exciting within a few months after my surgery. Nothing tasted good to me. Perhaps it was the pain meds. (Cliff hanger! More on that in another post.) I no longer eat cereal. Coffee, pills, and maybe a muffin. But that's how I roll at the moment.  (Look, almost a pun . . . muffin, roll . . naw, I agree with you. Sadly unexciting.)

Living alone (if you can call living with six dogs alone - let's rephrase that to living without a human companion in the house) has shaped how I do things. It's just me and the dogs, and as I've mentioned, they have to wait for my next move to see when food comes their way. Surprisingly, they have learned to be fine with that. When I head back to bed to get my energy level up to for the day and to let any meds do their magic, they jump in with me. Food has taken a back seat to snuggling on the bed.

Somehow this silly lifestyle of mine agrees with me. I plan to find a better way to do things, sooner or later, but most probably after my next surgery. My non-surgery hip is very uncomfortable most mornings. I have to ease into my day, limber up, and then move on. I am blessed with so many wonderful friends. When I do head out, I eat out. With my friends. Sometimes brunch, sometimes lunch, and most times dinner. Sometimes two meals a day out with different friends. I love that. Not so much the food, but the company.

In fact, I love it so much, I may have a new title for myself.  Social Diner. But that is the subject for another post!

I have a frozen pizza waiting for me to zap it! Oh, and the dogs are getting impatient with me. I've taken way too long to feed them this morning.

 


 

Remembering To Count The Dogs

 

 

There are many quotes about counting;  counting your blessings, counting sheep to sleep at night, counting days or hours until . . . whatever that is you are waiting for happens, counting money, counting the stars at night, counting the words you are writing for your novel, especially if you are participating in NaNoWriMo this month! There are many more fine examples, but in counting my brain cells this evening, they seem fewer than normal, so I'll stop with this list above.

 

I have a special count I make each time I let my dogs into the yard. I count them as they come back in. Each body that wiggles or races or drags through my kitchen door is numbered. One, two, three, four, five, six! Once I have reached six  I can close the door and go about my business. Sometimes, I forget to count and just assume six dogs have come back in. Especially challenging, when only half the pack goes out, trying to count who is still in and who is reentering.  Sometimes I mess up. A dog gets left outdoors. While most dogs love to be out, my pack loves to be in. When a dog is left unaccounted for, well, there is a price for me to pay. No dog wants to be outside alone. Not in the heat of a summer day, certainly not in a rain storm, but as I found out a few minutes ago, not in the dark of night.

 

Four hours ago I fed the hounds. I opened the back door to my large fenced yard, well lit by lights around the premises, and dogs ran, in many directions. Dogs ran into the yard, dogs ran into the sunroom, and dogs ran into the living room. I assume they had a game afoot, romping and playing with each other. Of course, the purpose of the open door was for the dogs to go out for their last evening run to pee. All the dogs came safely back to the sunroom and settled in, or so I thought. I'd forgotten to count.

 

Pounding away on my keyboard (sounds like I am really knocking out my NaNoWriMo novel, doesn't it?) I heard a howl from my back yard. A high pitched howl that seemed to come from the far side so I had to think, is this my dog or a neighbors? The howl came again and I knew who it was. (don't you know the sound each of your pups makes? an individual sound like no other dog, the dog's voice as I like to call it) and swung around. Five dogs were sound asleep. Rascal was missing.

 

I looked at the clock at the bottom of my monitor screen. Holy cripes, it was almost eleven-thirty. And my dog was outside making a hideous sound, one my closest neighbor on the other side of the stone wall, would most likely hear. We have a truce - I keep the hounds quiet after ten.

 

Barefoot and in my PJs, I dashed to the kitchen and ran out. Loudly, but quietly as I could, I called out into the night, "Rascal".  What a perfect name for a little thirty-five pound butterball of a dog who gets in trouble more often than not! I called again, my voice a little louder, "Rascal!"

 

Across the yard, from the far corner by the right-of-way, my butterball came running. She sprung into the kitchen and came to a sliding halt. Then she looked at me with a bit of disdain. If I could have read her mind, she might have been saying, you left me outside for four hours!

 

I looked at her and wondered what she had been up to for that time. Her howls only surfaced in the last few minutes. There was a smudge of dirt over her brow, or was that one of her markings? She is a colorful gal. All pinky white, one blue-eye and one brown. Her back looks like a brindle sweater, and her tummy is full of polka dots. My little clown dog. I grabbed a few biscuits and fed her. Smiling, happy she was back inside, although honestly, I had no clue she was missing. Safe in the yard, but missing from her usual spot on the couch.

 

Yes, I count my blessings. And among my blessings are six dogs that make me happy to be a member of the pack. Just shame on me! I must remember to count my dogs when I close my doors. One, two, three, four, five, six. Oh good, now I can relax.

 

 

It's exhausting having an adventure!

 

Percocet and Peaches

Last spring when I had my hip replacement surgery I was dosed up on pain meds. From the first IV drip to the final prescription for pills as I was wheeled out the front door of the hospital to head home, I was told, keep the pain from getting out of control so you can do your physical therapy.

Being a smart ass, I told my nurses and therapists I would throw a twelve-step party when I felt better. I dreamed of writing a Southern Gothic novel called Percocet and Peaches (if you steal my title, remember I know where you are!)

The pills worked. No, I am not addicted to pain meds. And no, I am not making light of those that are. I still take hydrocodone daily and I'd like to say the vision above was me - working to a frenzy - writing my next novel or memoir. But the reality is, the meds have slowed me down.

Writer's block. Maybe. Perhaps they have given me, along with my surgery, permission to chill and figure out what's next in my life.

To answer an unasked question - why am I still on pills?  My surgery hip is great - but my other hip may be facing a repeat performance. The pills are for that pain, so I can move around without a walker and regain my life!

I am working to go pill free - and since the only addiction I have is to dogs, books, and antiques, I feel safe I am almost there.

Looking back on my work I realized a health situation spurred me on to produce everything I've written. My widow memoir was penned after my husband's death (a final health issue if there ever was one). My slightly naughty novel was shot up to Amazon three days before my hysterical hysterectomy in 2013, and my dog picture book published a few days before my hip surgery in May. Last December I pulled together a 31 author Christmas anthology (with proceeds going to First Book, a children's literacy charity) while housebound with a pulled muscle in my knee.

This begs me to ask myself - can I write under ordinary circumstances? At least if a reader finds typos in my work, I can play the health card and get out of jail free, for a moment anyway.

My brain stays scrambled with things I want to write - not with the drugs. Surgery has slowed me down on some fronts, but when I look at my author page on Amazon, I realize for every hit I've taken physically I have something to show for it. Not too bad. Although, I am looking for the day I write from pure joy and not from pain! On so many levels!

That said, what makes you sit down and write? We are all challenged by the things life throws at us yet are productive with what is important to us. What triggers your artistic side to come through. . . would love for you to share!

 

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This post is part of a blog hop. Want to read more? Not by me, but by other wonderful writers, then join in. To return to the FICTION WRITERS BLOG HOP on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog, click here: http://www.julievalerie.com/fiction-writers-blog-hop-sep-2015

 

My Spoonful of Sugar - Antiques And A Book Discovery

 

 Jan 28th - Re-sharing this post as part of Julie Valerie's Hump Day Blog Hop.  Like to party? Hop along the Hump Day Blog Hop on Julie Valerie’s Book Blog. Click here to return to the Hump Day Blog Hop.

 

Mary Poppins sings: Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.  While I am not a sugar addict, I am addicted to other things that help the medicine go down. I had a chance to re-discover this over the Christmas holidays. And what I learned about myself should not have come as a surprise, but more of a warm fuzzy - it came as both. Since closing my antique business the first part of 2014 - a formal closure - but one is never really out of the business when you love to look and buy treasures - I shied away fron all the things I love for many months. Until my breakthrough in December, where all the beauty I loved, kept me from my own personal breakdown!

 

It is not bad enough I am trying to work through getting a hip replacement, and I am on hold with that until I do more to be pro-active and healthy with my daily rituals, such as eating and exercise, but I popped something in the back of my knee right before all the festivities started. The knee more a problem than the hip, since I couldn't walk without pain. A trip to the doctor, a prescription for pain meds, a cane, and an MRI were my holiday gifts! I cancelled all the wonderful plans since I had to rest, per doctor's orders. It was a very quiet holiday, shared with my dog family, so you know, it was a loving one. On the verge of going stir-crazy I frequented Pinterest - okay, you know me, I am on Pinterest every day - looking a lovely cottage rooms. However, over the holidays I spent more time looking and dreaming. When agitated with my knee, the photos of old painted cupboards and farm tables had a calming effect I can't explain. Looking at rooms that were filled with fancies I adore, made me feel hopeful for the future. The knee was just a problem for now, as the hip will be later this year, but the beauty of timeworn antiques and the decorating possibilities of what I can work towards, bloomed like a lovely rose on a dismal day in winter. It amazed me that my love of houses, and filling them with things of beauty, is a constant that carries me through rough days. That is not to say my faith is not strong, this is simply a statement on my never ending affair with things from the past. I became an antique dealer when my own treasures outnumbered my rooms and rented storage units all those many years ago. I guess once in love with antiques, always in love with them. Taste changes, but the basic thrill of finding beauty never goes away.

 

I know I am not alone in that thought - how home and decorating brings healing and joy. I am reading a lovely book that reaffirms all I feel.

 

 

I found this treasure on Amazon digging around looking for gardening books, and knew it was just what I needed to read. An older book, copyright 2002, it is a gem.

 

For six years, House & Garden editor-in-chief Dominique Browning has written a monthly column that weaves together personal stories and tips about home decorating, gardening, and raising children with universal themes of domestic life. In Around the House and in the Garden, Browning adapts and expands these well-loved pieces, adding dozens of new essays, to create an insightful and moving narrative about the solace and sense of self that can be found through tending one's home.

 

As a writer I am asked what books do I read. Well, here is a fantastic example of what I love. I am not a big fiction reader, I prefer small intimate books, essays on life. That is also what I prefer to write and hope to do more of.

 

So, back to the antique side of this post. I am including photos below from Pinterest that brought me back to my senses. I am an antique addict, a decorator, and, while no photos here, a crazy dog lady. Not bad. My spoonful of sugar takes mighty sweet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

These are a few of my favorite things . . . what are yours?

 

The Merry Month Of May When The Widow Vs. WonderWoman

Ah, the month of May. I wrote about it in my memoir The Unfaithful Widow. It is a month that brought so much, then took so much, then put me back on my feet. I wondered if I should reminisce here, it is May again, or just stay with the 'new me' that feels more like Wonder Woman these days. But I would not be true to writing about my experiences if I let my thoughts go today. And if you know me, truth sets me free.

This blog started in December 2009 to get ready for the launch of my widow memoir. Everything I read about promotion for books enticed me to start early to have a small platform. This blog featured 'lessons learned' at the end of each post. My widow lessons learned came from lessons learned from my dogs. I loved adopting dogs so much, I now live with a pack of six rescue dogs that rescued me.

The month of May. How many memories can one month hold? It is the turning point for me each year to reflect. I met my husband in May all those many years ago. We married in May and had five years together as husband and wife, which added to the years we lived together, gave us a history of 25 years. He passed away in May 2008. In May 2009, I had a 'coming out' celebration at the house to celebrate my friends and all the love that was shared with me that year. I had just started my dog adoption frenzy, so there was just Foxy, the Grand Dame of small German Shepherds and Bray, my first rescue dog. It was easy to entertain in my house then with only two dogs.

Now, six years and six dogs later, it is harder to have people over, but I am working on it for my dog loving friends who are brave. As a mad collector of things, I kid, I could have a lovely tea party for six, and everyone could have their own Victorian silverplate tea service and a dog for their lap. My kind of tea party would also include a pitcher of Margaritas, so tasty with cheese straws and in tiny cups, so ladylike to keep sipping!

The Unfaithful Widow book launch was in May 2010 with a grand party at a friend's bed and breakfast and was an event/silent auction for Animal Action Rescue. I am still on their website under links we like. A very proud thing for me the crazy dog lady. We made some money for them that night. Every cent went to the folks that brought me Bray, and then some of my other dogs down the road. I had my first blog tour with WOW Women in Writing that month too. This May I am on tour with WOW again to promote my first fiction novel Danger In Her Words.

My wonderful Mother has her birthday on May 22nd. I can't forget that. It is a reminder how lucky I am to have her in my life. She reminds me you can do anything, be anything, at any age. She wrote when we were kids and went back to her writing roots at age 85. She will be turning 86 and has three books on Amazon with a fourth to come. Her website is Audrey Frank Author. She is the inspiration that keeps me moving forward thinking I can conquer the world, make my life what I want it to be, despite all the things that can go wrong, but can work for you if you leave your heart open.

Six years a widow this month. It seems so strange. At first the days seemed endless, how would I survive? Now I look back on all that has happened and wonder where the time has gone. I have the books I've written, my wonderful friends, both from years of knowing each other to new women who have enriched my life. I opened and closed an antique shop, The Little Shop of Arts and Antiques, that became a hub for writers and artists. I started a writers guild that still meets. A Book Talk blog to promote other authors.  I appeared in a snippet of an interview on Lifetime Television's The Balancing Act, a morning show for women. I blogged for them for several years. I sleep with dogs, hmm, not those bad dates I used to write about, but my wagging tail buddies that surround me with love.

I am in the same house, living a life close to home, that is as rich as any life I could ask for. My fears and loss made me step out of my comfort zone to do things I would never have done in the safety net of my marriage. But my marriage, my husband's constant for all those years, gave me a secure base to start from. It was about creating something good that would make sense of my loss.

Last August I turned sixty-five. I don't feel it. I do feel like an odd bird out some days, at my age there are no children, no grand kids, when most everyone I know, despite their marital status, has them. I wondered how life would be different if I'd had children. Then a new friend said to me she wondered what life would have been like if she didn't have her kids and grandchildren. There was food for thought for both of us. We decided we are happy where we are. Isn't that the best place to be in life? Happy.

Will I find someone again? It is still not my answer - although sometimes I think about it. What I found was me. I feel like Wonder Woman on so many levels.

I am blessed to have happiness. I am blessed to have the month of May to make me remember all that I loved, still love, and all that is yet to come.  A month that full has got to be a merry month!

Traded my widow crown for my Wonder Woman accessories. Wanting to be my own super hero.

 

And you ask why I call her "Miss April In Paris" . . .

Miss April In Paris

 

 

 

It is raining cats and dogs again today. Well, at my house, it is raining dogs and pee. Yes, I can't believe I said that, but the dogs won't do outside in the storms and they are dancing around my kitchen, waiting for me to turn my back and . . . yes, pee. It is a well known fact my dogs are sissies about the weather. I am too.

 

I've been going through some much older posts on this blog and came upon this photo of Miss April In Paris. She was the sixth rescue dog to enter my home in a nine month period. Shy, she kept to herself, until I put a lovely vintage hat on her head. Then she became Miss April In Paris to herself and the world. I wrote about it at the time. This is the link to that post.

 

There have been some dog changes here. A new dog, Miss Bertha Barth, came in a few months after Miss Foxy left me in her old age. I like the number six it seems . . . I love my Margaritas but live with a six-pack at home.

 

In The Unfaithful Widow you meet Foxy and Jake and a few of the rescue dogs to enter my front door! I am working on my dog memoir, stories on all the dogs that have enriched my life, most since I've been on my own, single again. It got put on the back burner for my first novel, Danger In Her Words. Today I am at work on my new memoir on my life with dogs. I am getting sentimental about all my dogs as I go through the old photos and blog posts about them. There is nothing like a rainy day to hold memories close and cherish those around you.

 

 



A Visit To Julie Valerie's Book Blog In Celebration Of Dogs And Dog Books

Julie Valerie's sweet dogs. Chloe on the left and the late Cassie, who went to dog heaven last September after a long loved full life, on the right.

Last Friday was Change A Pet's Life Day and I was thrilled to be included in a blog post on dogs and dog books by Julie Valerie. A fellow dog lover, Julie shared the beautiful photo above. Such sweet faces.

You can link to Julie Valerie's Book Blog and read the dog post by clicking here. Below are the books included in the post. The covers alone make you smile. 

Follow Julie Valerie's Book Blog: Women's Fiction from Jane Austen to Bridget Jones. Click here to go to her home page.

And now the books and a special event!

 

Purchase on Amazon

Author's Web

Rescue Me, Maybe by Jackie Bouchard: If you lost both your spouse and your dog to cancer within weeks of each other, but you were sadder about the dog, would you tell anyone? Maybe your closest friends. Unfortunately, Jane Bailey’s closest friends are on the other side of the country. That’s where Jane plans to go now that she’s free to leave Philadelphia, the too cold, beachless, street taco-deficient city her husband dragged her to six years ago. But with no job prospects in her hometown of San Diego, Jane is roped into helping out temporarily at her uncle’s southwestern small-town B&B. En route to her new role as innkeeper and breakfast chef, she finds a stray at a rest stop. With her heart in pieces from the loss of her dog, she’s determined not to let this mutt worm its way into her affections. She’s also determined to have next-to-no interaction with the B&B’s irritating guests, and the even more annoying handyman who lives next door. Can Jane keep her sanity–and her secret that she’s not really a grieving widow–while trying to achieve her dream of getting back to the place she thinks is home?

Purchase on Amazon

Author's Web

 

What the Dog Ate by Jackie Bouchard: The vet handed Maggie Baxter a plastic specimen bag containing a pair of size-tiny lavender thong panties extracted from her dog; but they were not hers. Or rather, they were hers now since she’d just paid $734 to have Dr. Carter surgically remove them from Kona’s gut.This is how Maggie Baxter, a practical, rule-following accountant, discovers that her husband of seventeen years is cheating on her. All her meticulous life plans are crushed. When he leaves her for the other woman, Maggie and her the-world-is-my-smorgasbord chocolate Lab, Kona, are left to put their lives back together. As Maggie begins to develop a Plan B for her life, she decides to be more like Kona. No, she’s not going to sniff crotches and eat everything that isn’t nailed down; rather she’ll try to approach life with more ball-chasing abandon. Finding herself in situations where she begins to go through her usual over-analysis of the pros and cons, she stops and instead asks herself: What would Kona do? With Kona as her guru, Maggie begins her quest for tail-wagging joy.

 

 

 

Purchase on Amazon

Author's Web

 

Modogamous by Karen E. Martin: Kate Adams has it all figured out. Five years out of college, she’s got a steady job, a home she loves in the big city, and good friends who always keep her laughing: her stylish but nosy roommate Evette, happily-married Cecie, and of course, good old Mitch, her seriously cute co-worker who’s been stuck in the Friend Zone since the day they met.

Everything is going just fine—until the night Kate crosses the line with Mitch, and the boundaries between friendship and love begin to blur. Things get even more complicated when hunky JP enters the scene. What’s a girl to do? Add to the mix a spunky little pug Kate never expected to fall for, and her neatly-ordered life is starting to look more like a dog’s dinner. Maybe her roommate has the right idea after all: forget the men, and stick with a canine companion instead.
It’s time for Kate to figure out what she really wants in life. But can she dig her way out of the mess she’s created before she ends up permanently in the doghouse?


And  my own book, The Unfaithful Widow, where rescue dogs helped rescue me!

 

Purchase on Amazon

 

And an event you won't want to miss!

 

 

 

Give Cancer the Paw Blog Hop (February 6, 2014)

 Folks are welcome to join the hop and blog about whatever they want – a tribute post, research info, tips on fighting cancer, etc. Jackie Bouchard is going to post about Morris Animal Foundation and ways to help out with their canine cancer research. If you want to join, check Jackie Bouchard’s blog (http://poochsmooches.blogspot.com) on February 6th to get the linky info for joining the hop. The Give Cancer the Paw Blog Hop is co-hosted by Jackie and one other blogger (Peggy’s Pet Place). The February 6 event will be the second time they’ve hosted it.

 

Thanks Julie for letting me repost this information and for including me in your post!

 

From one dog lover to another, Dogs Rock!

 

Chick Lit Author Blog Hop 2012 * Chick Lit Memoirs

The Fun Starts Now!

At the bottom of my post are all the instructions you need to enter in a grand prize drawing and meet all the participating authors for a chance to win an e-book on their sites!

Thanks Tracie Banister for such a lovely way to connect with Chick Lit authors!

Please note: leave your comments right below the list of authors. This post runs closely with the post last Wednesday and some comments have been left there. I'll include them in the drawing if I can't repost here!

Chick Lit Memoirs

I am a dog hoarder. Most people who know me would agree on that simple fact. I have five dogs. I’d have more, but my seven-pound Chihuahua, Chloe, stomped her tiny paw on my chest one night after she caught me up on Petfinder.com again. She is the Alpha and demands the attention. I think I heard her squeak, “Enough!”

“The Unfaithful Widow” is full of dog rescue stories. It is my tail tale of the first year after my husband died. “I’d like to think I’ve rescued dogs the truth is they have rescued me.” How many times have I said that? Chloe came in as the P.S. on the bottom of the last page. She was not the last dog to enter my front door. Two more followed her. I adopted five dogs in nine months. If I wasn’t so old were younger, I could have had a baby.

The dogs, and a pack of great girlfriends, turn a widow story into a breezy chick lit memoir. I’d like to think my readers feel like they are sitting at my kitchen table, sharing secrets, and drinking Margaritas a nice cup of tea.

One of my favorite reviews came from Helen Ross, an Australian children’s author, poet, and writer. “ ‘The Unfaithful Widow’ would make a lovely movie – a little in the vein of ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’, offering hope to those in similar situations, or to just get out there and give life a go; it should appeal to both men and women.” She also called me “naughty” and “cheeky”. I’ll love her forever for that!

Hello Hollywood, are you listening?

I have a soft spot for shelter dogs. They teach us that love can mend a broken heart, that it is possible to trust again, and how to live in the moment. If you see me face down in my yard, don't call 911, I am just smelling a blade of grass.

Chloe is my fashionsita. She rules the house in a polka dot dress with the ruffle flying high above her butt. Her favorite gift is a new outfit. She is a real bitch cute dog. She's the kind of a gal that would sneak a cigarette from my Coach purse if either of us smoked.

I am working on a new memoir about my crazy life with dogs. Try dating with a pack of hounds at home. My bedside table is full of milk bones instead of condoms books. The last date I had ran out the front door crying he had a headache. I thought that was my excuse!

Chick lit is considered the epitome of a lighthearted beach read, but most chick lit writing has a firm grasp on situations and issues women face in daily life. Non-fiction memoirs, written in a hip, just us girls style, can take a grave situation, make it intimate and fun, and give the reader something to compare her own life experiences with. Some memoirs take on a more serious tone, but the feeling of camaraderie is present so the reader and author connect in a personal way.

On my bucket list of chick lit memoirs with a bit of 'hair of the dog' to read are:

• “Rex in the City” by Lee Harrington. 
• “Dreaming in Libro” by Louise Bernikow
• “You Had Me At Woof” by Julie Klam

Five dogs have killed off my dating life but I now have time to read! My Saturday night special is a great chick lit memoir, a pack of hounds to snuggle with, and a bottle of Jack Black diet coke.

I dream my perfect man will come along, a second chance at love again,  and that he will be a veterinarian. That will be a memoir with a kick ass up your heels ending!

Do you have a dog that plays havoc on your love life? Leave a comment below with your name and e-mail address and you will be entered to win a copy of my memoir "The Unfaithful Widow". The winner can choose between a free Kindle download or a paperback book.

For a chance to win the Chick Lit Author Blog Hop Grand Prize of a $150 Sephora gift card, simply do the following:

• Collect all 34 of the secret words (you will find a secret word in each of the blog posts on the hop.) The word will be italicized, so it will be easy to locate. A hint for my secret word, it is in the line that links to Helen Ross and is in blush red.

• Submit your list of 34 secret words to mailto:CLABlogHop@aol.combefore midnight on Sunday, May 20th and you will be entered into the Grand Prize Drawing! 
• The Grand Prize winner will be announced on Monday, May 21st, and the $150 Sephora gift card can be redeemed online, or at any Sephora store in the US.
• Chick Lit Author Blog Hop contests are open to residents of the United States only.

Please see the list below for a Linky list of all 34 participating authors/blogs. Find the secret word in each blog and enter to win an e-book with each author. It's that simple and fun! 

Follow My New Blog On My Crazy Life With Dogs!

How goofy is this?

I "heart" life. (If I were better with a computer there would be a little red heart instead of the word in print!)

I am a true romantic, but not in the traditional sense. I am in love with life. I was in love with my husband and then he died. It took a book, a pack of dogs, a small town, an antique shop, a vintage Corvette, a writer's guild, a book club, a critique group, a little cheap sex, and the best people I could meet to fill the hole in my heart.

I am a crumudgeon at dating, and probably provoke my bad dates, so they become worse. It is a game for me. I need a good piece for a blog post, meet a guy who hopes to land a good piece, and the evening is doomed, except I leave with something to write about. I'd like to think it could be more, but if you've tried the online dating sites, you'd cheer on my own bad behavior.

Someone pointed out to me at a book club meeting, where we got off the subject of the book we were dissecting, and started talking about men, that I sounded like a 'snot' when I date.

"You are absolutely right!" I toasted her with my wine glass. She nailed me. I am the world's worst date and have learned to except that fact. I want a life, not a mate. I'd even like a friend with benefits, but that appears to be an oxymoron.

My dating life has slowed down now. I've created a world no man wants to enter. I sleep with dogs, five to be exact. Even in a king size bed there is hardly room for another body. And no body is going to move my dogs. My bedside table is full of milk bones instead of condoms. At night, before I turn out the lights, I look at my sweet pack and sigh. They are sprawled out all around me, kissing each other good night. How cute is that?

I write about romance in daily life. If you look closely when you step through your door to the outside world, life is brimming with possibilities. Anything can happen if you are in tune with the universe. That is why I 'heart' life.

My new ramblings are posted on my new blog, http://barbarabarthcrazylifewithdogs.blogspot.com/

Come say hello! I'll pop in here from time to time, but you will find me at my crazy life with dogs blogspot most days!