On Monday, my oldest turns sixteen. That number is huge for a little girl who was given zero percent chance to live when she was born. I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but she's my miracle baby. At 22 weeks and 5 days, 11 inches long, she was the tiniest little thing. She fit in the palm of my hand. Abby is quirky, funny, sweet, and kind. She is friendly and loving and bright. There are many times she'll find me and just hug me because that's who she is. Most kids turning sixteen would be looking to get their license, but when asked, she said she didn't feel mature enough yet. So, she'll still be walking for a while longer. We're planning for Monday to be a day spent running around with her doing things she'd like to do. She didn't want a big party this year. Happy birthday to my sweet girl. It's been a blessing to be your momma for the past sixteen years.
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Guess who's late sending out this newsletter? Me. Even after being reminded by my wonderful assistant, Kami. She gently reminded me this morning, and I still managed to be late. I got new glasses this week. Progressive bi-focals. Oh. My. Word. My brain is struggling to figure these things out. They are weird glasses. The place where I bought them said to give it a week to two weeks, and I'm not sure I can. I love the frames. They're so light and they don't hurt my head, but these lenses? They are for the birds. I hope things settle down or I might have to go back to normal glasses. As you can tell by the cover on the left, the next Caprock Canyon book is out. I really had fun writing this one and I hope you can tell. It has a lot of references to movies, television shows, and songs that I love. And, actually, I think a lot like that. I can't count the number of times people say things to me and I've got a quote or song lyric floating through my head. Okay, it's the weekend, and time to regroup for the next week. Personally, I need more than two days to regroup. I need a pre-regroup before I get to the actual regroup. It's been a long week. A long, sleepless week. I don't know why, but two nights in a row, I couldn't shut my brain off. Now, it wouldn't be so bad if I'd actually come up with solutions to the problem, but I didn't. All I got was exhaustion.
And I mean exhaustion. I'm sitting here typing this thinking, "A nap sounds fantiastic." Only, I didn't get up that long ago and I shouldn't be that tired. Napping is out of the question, really. If I nap, I definitely won't sleep tonight. Do any of you suffer with this? I know I worry too much. I've said before that worry is my superpower. It's hard not to worry, especially when I know worrying isn't going to help. Sometimes things are just out of my control. Thinking, stressing, or worrying isn't going to magically put those things in my control either. At forty-five, you'd think I'd know that by now, but alas, in this case, age is just a number. Maybe I need to be like Solomon and ask for wisdom. Funny. It just struck me that Solomon was wise enough to ask for more wisdom. Maybe that really is the answer. Being wise enough to know you can never be too wise. Okay, I have words to put on the screen. I still have three books to write before the end of the year. If you're the praying kind, I'll take all I can get. If you noticed, last week, I didn't have my normal newsletter. In a nutshell, it's been a trying couple of weeks.
First, I broke my tooth. I had a root canal done on it previously, and the crown came off. Me- in my infinite wisdom, thought, I'll fix it when I can afford it. That was a few months ago. <Insert dramatic sigh here.> So on the 16th, I've got my economy size bottle of Tic-Tacs, enjoying the tiny fruity goodness, and all of a sudden they're extra crunchy. The build up of my tooth had broken. <Insert groan here.> It's late. I can't call the dentist until the next morning. The lovely woman who answered the phone set me up with an appointment the next day. I be-bop into the dentist's office thinking I've got a stupid tax to pay, but it won't be that bad. After all, I still have my crown. Not so. I have a small tooth and there's a chance if they just build it back up, an infection will get into it. Stupid tax is hitting me like a truck at this point. I now have an appointment with an endodontist on Friday. Oh, joy. <--That's my thrilled face. Now, we have arrived at Thursday. I learned long ago to never ask if things can get worse because it is inevitable that they can. Try a Texas-sized stomach bug. I was pretty confident I had the plague at one point. No, it wasn't that serious, but it sure felt like it. Am I going to the endodontist? No, because it would be rude to give these nice people whatever it was I had. I rebooked the appointment for Monday at 8:45 a.m. They call later and ask if they can reschedule it for seven. As in the morning. I agree, but I'm thinking, wow, a root canal at seven in the morning. Again, I'm not challenging the universe with "can it get worse," but it was like it read my mind. Yes. Yes, it could worse. They had to make room for the crown. I'll spare you the gory details, but needless to say, it wasn't a walk through the roses. This is when I call the other dentist and let them know that the root canal is done and I can now come in to get my crown fitted. I set the appointment for the next day. At this point, I just want to be able to eat while I'm at my conference. I mean, I'm in Kansas City. I think it's against the law not to eat meat slathered in sauce. Plus, I want the barbecue. Okay, this is a long story. I hope you've made it this far. The cherry on top of this two-week sundae? Finding out I'm wearing my shirt backwards while sitting in a room full of people. This is my life, people. This is my life! And all that to say, even when everything is going haywire, I'm still okay. My joy doesn't have to be dependent on the situation. I can choose it. I may have to white-knuckle-grip to keep it, but I choose it. Guess who's story is coming in January? Mason's! You're probably wondering why it took so long for the poor guy to find his happily ever after. Well, let's just say suspense is hard for me. That's the truth. What else happened this week? I became the proud owner of a pinball machine named Gulfstream. It's sitting in my miniscule living room like a big, fat, sore thumb. I do love playing it though. I've been extra careful around it. Stubbing a toe on that bad boy would hurt! All that sounds so upbeat, but this week hasn't been that way. I struggle with worth. That's why most of my books deal with that subject. Mostly, I'm preaching to myself. It's hard sometimes though. Failure is so arbitrary. What one person sees as success another sees as something completely different. It's amazing how fingerprints can be an outward reminder that everyone is unique. Yeah, it's been a interesting week. Not in a things-blew-up kind of way, but in a...life-baffles-me kind of way.
My husband and I have been talking about moving. I'm rather desperate for an office. If you don't know, I write in complete silence. Like total and complete silence. As in don't say nuthin'. If you think about me, I'll know it. But, I have an eleven-year-old. Nothing gives me more inspiration than my little girl busting a move while I'm trying to write. Anyway, about the chicken emoji. (Those are two words I never thought I'd put together.) I used to have a lot of chickens, and as of late, I've really been missing them. We had goats too. A baby goat is probably one of the cutest things on the planet. I miss them too. All that to say, we can't move yet. The want is there, but the finances, not so much. Which is okay. Things happen when they're supposed to. I just wish they were supposed to happen when I want them to. HA! Okay, I've got chicken emojis and dancing kids. That's about as exciting as I get anymore. You try to prepare for it with the adage of "hope for the best and prepare for the worst." Only, I've found that I don't quite keep that fifty-fifty. It's more like 60/40...okay, no, more like 80/20.
Why is that? Even knowing that the worst is probably what's going to happen, there's that hope. It's that little green leafy sprig, sticking up in the arid sandy desert, waving like a flag. And I don't want to give it water, but I do it anyway. Am I glutton for punishment? Sometimes, I wonder if I am. Do you wonder that? Does it make you feel dumb? Because I feel dumb. Am I alone in this? Sometimes, I wonder if I am. Then after all those rambling thoughts, I have one of those rare moments when things are quiet. The house is still. It's early, and I'm drinking my coffee. That's when I hear that little voice whisper, ever so gently... Hope is a powerful thing. It's the light in the darkness when I can't see anything beyond the situation that I'm in. Yes, the worst is going to happen. I'll never be able to prepare for it. But, even in the midst of that, there's that hope I can hang onto to weather the worst and things will be okay. Now, whether those things are the way I wanted them to happen is a different story. But I think that's just how life works. First, I think typos are meant to keep people humble. It's a way to remind us that nothing's perfect, even when you're trying hard to make it that way. (Yes, keep sending me those typos, you lovely eagle-eyed gems.)
Second, never is the meanest word ever invented because once invoked, it takes it as a personal challenge to prove you wrong. Third, sometimes the things you've thought made you weak, have actually made you strong. This world likes to put a value on toughness, tossing aside the meek and mild. The world can be wrong. A lot. Sometimes, the tenderhearted are the bravest. They've been given a black eye and instead of returning the blows, they smile, understanding the hurt behind the anger. And fourth (this is based on my faith and not an intent to preach), I think sometimes the reason Jesus wants us to be still and listen is so that He can listen to our hearts. Sometimes, I think we're desperate for something we don't even know we need. But He does. At least I think so. Anyway, August is officially here. Man, was my momma right. The older I get the faster the days are. Yep, that subject line is true. Opus, my big, fat, black cat got out and we haven't been able to find him. I've posted on my local FB groups, the NextDoor app, called the pound, and searched the neighborhood. He's just...gone. Scratch that! I'd just finished this up, and my husband comes in smiling and says, "Opus is back!" We've had this fat boy for nine years. He's a lazy menace at times, but we love him. I can't even begin to tell you how thrilled I am that he's back! Now, I will go love on my kitty. I will wish you and yours a great weekend. Hug your fur friends a little tighter next time. I'll see you next Friday. ;) Whoa.
Did anyone catch the name of that month that flew by? I think it was June. Great gravy. (Or should I say jalapeno! Will anyone get that reference? It's from an old cartoon. If you've got a guess, send it to me. I'll put your name into a drawing for a signed copy of one of my books.) It's been a mild summer here in the Panhandle. At least I think so. There were only a few three digit days so far and it's been nice. OH! Almost forgot! I think I might have a really good idea for Mason story. Yes, the one Ranger giving me grief may soon have his story told. I'm sure some of you are thinking, "Well, it's about time." I agree. HA! I'm also working on new billionaire books. These guys are awesome. Bear, Josiah, Hunter, and Wyatt are from a little town called Caprock Canyon. They've each got a story to tell and I hope to have them out soon. Okay, I'll let you go. Feel free to email me and tell me how your summer is going so far. I suspect it's more exciting than mine. I've spent the last week cleaning out my garage. Hahahahaha. |
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June 2023
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