Oddest looking dogs ever. Wait. Those are baby cows.
It’s been just shy of two months since James died. I was scrolling Facebook a couple of weeks ago and stumbled upon an unattributed quote that sums up my sadness.
“I believe the hardest part of healing after you’ve lost someone you love is to recover the “you” that went away with them”
There’s still that daily need to text him about things. He would have loved the pickup full of cows. I suppose in time the hollowness will fill back in. In the meantime, all I can do is get up off the couch and get on with it.
And on that note, the new book cover book…
My soon to be released book
In less than 48 hours, June’s life will go from low-key to ludicrous thanks to a pool of blood, a missing body, slithering creepy crawlies and the imminent incarceration of her famous twin-brother.
Read the 1st chapter now and get 2 and 3 when you join the book release mailing list.
No. But I’m finally back to my 40 hour work. A late summer release is still looking good.
If you feel so inclined, check out the first chapters, sign up for the book announcement list and then drop down to the comments and let me know your thoughts on the cover.
A few Saturdays ago, I got a birthday card from one of my favorite people, James. On the front, Dorothy, the Scarecrow, Tinman, and the Cowardly Lion are gazing up at something wonderful. Probably Oz. Inside, James made a joke about pickings being slim at the Winn Dixie at one am. To me, though, the card was perfect.
Key West, where James lived and were I spent two wonderful years, was my Oz. I’d left the bleak brown desert of Arizona, crossed the country via the Yellow Brick Road (A.K.A. the Interstate Highway System) and arrived on Duval Street where the colors were brighter, the rum smoother and the smells smellier. By the time I left the island, twenty-five months later, I was a women who’d found all that her heart desired. Two amazing friendships and the best orange rum cake in the universe. (I already had true love)
When I opened James’s card that Saturday, it was late. I sent a quick message telling him that the card had arrived on my actual birthday, I loved it, and that somewhere over the rainbow there was lots of rum. He didn’t reply. I didn’t think anything of it. Sometimes we went days between replies.
The next morning, I woke up to an email from a mutual friend. James was no longer with us.
I had to sit up, read the message twice and then wake my husband. Did this really mean what I thought it meant? Sadly, it did. Sometime between mailing my card and my birthday, James had taken his own life. I can’t say I was completely surprised. There was a lot of sadness in his soul.
I can say that I was pissed.
And then sobbing uncontrollably.
And then pissed again.
When someone dies, it’s easy for the survivors to only remember the good stuff. James wasn’t perfect. He could be argumentative and exhausting and difficult. But he was also funny. And cheeky. And sarcastic. And above all else, fiercely loyal to those he called his friends. And that circle was wide and eclectic. In the days that followed his death, those friends began sharing their James stories. And so many of them began the same way. I saw him and I knew I had to be his friend. It was that way for me too. He had an intoxicating energy that you just had to be a part of.
Rolling a piano down the street and stopping to play for traffic. Strolling to the bar with two great danes and a parrot on his shoulder. Wearing a top hat to the grocery store, just because. Teaching a friend to embrace Madonna: take control, don’t be second best, express yourself.
All hail Matti Makkonen, inventor of the text message
oh that Lucy
For the last few weeks, my days have been filled with so many I need to text that to James moments.
There’s an I Love Lucy special being advertised on tv. Does he know? Is he going to watch? Oh my God, some toy company made wide eyed Joan Crawford and Betty Davis, Whatever happened to Baby Jane dolls. Has he seen the ad? The dolls eyes are amazingly creepy. That actor from that tv show has a bio out. Has he read it? The writing is the absolute worst. He needs to grab it from the library so that he can leave one of his scathing catty reviews. It’ll be so hysterical!
I pull out my phone. Poise my thumb over the keypad and then suddenly remember.
Did I text him that much during the four years that I knew him? Probably not. But knowing that he’s no longer there makes each lost moment feel devastatingly important. Something that only he would understand. And appreciate. And love.
Put it in Print
scoping out a house that was inspiration for a setting in our book
James was a writer. That’s how we met. I joined a little critique group and there he was. He wrote essays. Sometimes they were gut wrenching; the loss of his beloved Great Dane left me in tears for days. Sometimes snort inducing; his annoyed take on the idiocy of organized meditation made me want to sign up for a class. Just for a laugh. We’d talked a lot about what he’d include in a second volume. It would have been good.
I’m crushed that he and I will never write the book we plotted out about a girl who steps off a cruise ship in Key West and meets a bartender who inspires her to rethink her life. We joked that it was our story.
Lady Sings the Blues
Martini Me
James had a thing for Diana Ross. Her attitude. Her amazing voice. Her voluminous hair. Her attitude. I know I’m not the only one out there with a mix CD of her songs compiled by him for my specific needs.
And though he loved her best, it really wasn’t just Diana that did it for him.
The man simply loved music. It defined each moment in life. It set the mood. It lifted the spirit. It gave one the strength to go on. For a time anyway.
Not long ago, one of his dear friends, DJ Donna Flaggs of WHCP radio out of Maryland dedicated an entire show of smokey blues to James. If you’re not already a member of soundcloud, you can still listen with a free 30 day trial. He’d have thought the fuss was silly but I know he would have secretly loved the selections.
I’ll miss you the most, Scarecrow
It’s only been a month. The urge to text James my every waking thought will probably go away soon. I’m going to finish the book I’m currently writing and then revisit the outline we wrote for our book. Maybe I’ll contact his sister about pursuing the story on my own. Maybe not. Right now, it’s still too soon. I’m thankful for the new friends I’ve found through James. They’ve made the loss bearable. I’ll be back in OZ, a.k.a. Key West in the fall and I hope to connect with many of them. We’ll talk about James and drink rum and probably sing some Diana Ross. And maybe I’ll text him about it.
I can’t believe it’s April 13th. Last time I looked, it was March 29 and we were headed out to Tucson, 1868 miles, to prep the house for sale.
We finished on the 10th and after 3 days on the road are about ten hours out from home. I have tomorrow to get my hair re-pinked before hitting the road, once again for our half marathon down at Disneyworld.
Anyone ever run a Warrior Dash? It’s an obstacle course slash run. My daughter talked me into one last Saturday and that expression on my face pretty much tells it all. I have a horrible fear of heights and every obstacle seemed to involve a wall to be scaled. Or mud to be swum through. Or fire that needed leaping over. I’m waiting on pictures so I’ll write more about that later. Right now, I’m starving and I need to jam all my stuff into my suitcase and hit the road in search of food. Hopefully, I don’t have to climb anything to get it.
Any of you race or dash? Commiserate with me in the comments below and Write On,
Offspring #2 and I are headed out tomorrow on a cross-country trek. The not so distant future includes, paint fumes, pruning shears and jazz. By April 10th our house in Arizona will be ready for the retail market and I will have finally caught a friend’s jazz group in person. (he was just invited on a European tour so he must be good)
While we’re roughing it in an empty house, I plan on finishing the outline for book two in the June Nash Series.
A lost pup we reunited with her family. 1/2 timber wolf, 1/2 husky. 100 love muffin.
You might remember our little contest from 2 weeks ago, that we extend one more week – Would I finish writing my book before Offspring #2 finished studying to take some certification test that has something to do with computers. By the end of the night last Friday, The Offspring and I weren’t sure who was winning. (I’d been a bit sidelined by a minor bug) So, while I hadn’t finish my book by deadline, it appeared that I was further along than The Offspring. I declared myself the winner and did the dance of victory complete with the song of joy until the dog ran and hid in the master bathroom shower.
A quick update:
How to Sex Your Snake – chs 1-20 are done. All that’s left is a wrap up and set up to book two. I ending up cutting two chs in front of the current ch 20. Too dull. The book should now come in at 23 chs. No idea on page count yet. I’ll update that once the editor has had her fun and the formatting is done.
I was hoping I could leave the computer at home this trip, but looks like I’ll have to drag it along. I’ll be finishing the ending on the road.
Ohana. We shall be together again soon.
We still haven’t decided what to wear for the Star Wars Dark half Marathon mid April. I might wear my boring running skirt. I do plan on packing an extra phone battery in my running pouch. I have a feeling there will be great picture opportunities in the crowd.
Got to go buy snacks. I’ll post more from the road. Write On,
Melissa
p.s. while we were sick-ish couch potatoes, I hit Netflix hard. I’m done with all the good episodes of Fraser, burned through the new season of House of Cards the first week it was out, and started DareDevil. I realized that when I’m done with that one, I’ll be fresh out of stuff to watch. Any suggestions?
So, my youngest offspring and I are both trying to finish things. He’s working through some videos prepping for an IT certification test and I’m trying to get my latest project, the novel, How to Sex Your Snake finished and off to my editor. We decide to engage in a little friendly competition to see who would finish first. The deadline was today. (at midnight) And the winner is…”
Nobody. Yet. We had something unexpected take us out of town yesterday so we pushed the deadline to tomorrow. I’m not sure where he stands at the moment, he’s being secretive. Me? Well, let’s take a look:
How to Sex Your Snake has 25 chapters. (I’m one of those anal outliners)
Chs 1-18 are locked.
19 is probably done. I need to read it one more time but I’m saving that for later.
Ch 20 is done.
Ch 21 needs one line to smooth out a transition.
ch 22 needs a new ending. I made changes in the story (and rewrote my outline for the ending) and now a new last paragraph is in order.
ch 23-25 need complete rewrites. Everything I had is gone now, thanks to the new ending. Well, ch 25 has the same ending but the chapter has always been in an outline form. I expect each to come in at about 1500-2000 words. (for a total of 15-20 new pages)
As you can see in the photo above, I drank wine so I’m done for the night. Even a small glass just kills me. I have a practice 10k in the morning (and a race on Sunday) then it’s back to the computer until I finish or give up trying. I’ll drop a quick note tomorrow.
Until then, have a nice night and Write On,
Melissa
ps.
Did you lift a pint for St. Paddy’s day? I completely forgot about it.
I woke up this morning and realized I’d lost 12 days. My sweetie has been getting us ready for our next races, so it’s write, run, sleep, repeat. We did take a day to zip down to a caption theater in Appleton for a showing of Zootopia. It was one of those nifty theaters that have recliners for seats so we basically drove 3 hrs roundtrip for a nap. (you may recall I’m hearing impaired so I live and die by the caption) Okay, we didn’t sleep through the whole movie. Just bits and pieces. Despite it being adorable. It’s just that those seats are dangerous and I know that one day I’m going to wake up and discover that I’ve snuggled an innocent seat mate.
So, what races are we readying for? How sweet of you to ask. On the 20th of this month we have a 10k down near Milwaukee and on April 17 we’re running the inaugural Star Wars Half Marathon – the Dark Side at Disney World. (think villains) I have no idea what to wear for that one. I’m toying with a t-shirt that reads something like, ask me about the light. Or, have you accepted Yoda as your savior? We’re still deciding.
In the meantime, I’m pushing hard to finish How to Sex Your Snake this week. (yeah, my sweetie doesn’t believe me either) One of my kids is prepping for an IT test and we have a personal challenge going as to who will be done first. The deadline is Thursday at midnight, so we’ll see. Loser takes the winner to the movies. Which is perfect. Cause, come Friday, I’ll be ready for a nap.
Keep track of your days and Write On,
Melissa
ps
Disney World is our go to spot for relaxing and we’re counting down the days till we’re Florida residents again and can renew our annual passes at those lovely local rates. What’s your go to spot? To be perfectly honest, if we had the money, we’d buy a place in Puerto Rico or one of the US Virgin Islands. So, how about if money was no object? Where would you be?
Today is Super Tuesday! That means that people in 12 more states get to make decisions for me. I’m really tempted to move to Iowa so that my primary vote actually counts. But snow. So. I’m not gonna. I hate to think that by the time they get to my state, there won’t be a choice anymore.
So, go forth people of Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Colorado, Georgia, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Texas, Vermont, Virginia and American Samoa, a U.S. territory in the South Pacific.
If you live in one of these places, get your hiney to the polls. I don’t care about your politics or lack thereof. And no, don’t think that your single vote doesn’t count. Less that 60% of eligible voters show up. Don’t let 40% of Americans continue to be losers.
Get up early, stay out late, bring a book for the line, just get your freakin’ ass to the polls.
So, I lost two weeks, thanks to my son asking, “hey, have you seen House of Cards?” I’d been about to head to town to write but hell, I’m weak. I figured, what would it hurt to watch while I have some cereal? As you can guess, I never made it to town.
In fact, I chowed down the first season in three days.
And the driving force behind my hitting play before Netflix could count down to the next episode, was Frank, the house majority whip who wants to be President and will do pretty much anything he has to to get inside the oval office. We, the audience, are swept along as he breaks the fourth wall to let us in on a strategy or throw a snide comment or look our way.
Characters have broken the fourth wall in the past, and in some cases, we expect it (I’m looking at you Deadpool) but when Kevin Spacey turned to the camera, at the end of an early episode and spat out, “what are you looking at?” I actually shrunk back into my couch cushions and squealed. And stayed glued to that spot for the next week and a half wondering what Frank was going to do next. And if he would actually get away with it.
Now, the downside of watching an entire season(s) in such a short span of time is that you see all the problems with the show much clearer than you would if you were going week to week. If this had been on network tv, I might not have noticed that Frank stopped confiding in me so much somewhere in season two and that the show had turned into a dry version of the West Wing.
But, because of the strength of season one, I kept at it and suddenly Frank was back, sneering at me and barking out, “where have you been?” I squealed and sunk into my couch cushions once more, giddy with high hopes that the Frank of old was back.
He wasn’t.
While he did take us into his confidence again, it was all too little, too late. The schemer from season one was gone and in his place was some guy trying to force a boring jobs bill through congress. I was still trapped in the West Wing. And without Sam, CJ, Toby and Josh, it just wasn’t a place I wanted to be.
A new season of House of Cards premieres on netflix March 4 and I’m not on pins and needles. Frank’s goal was to be President but they gave it to him much too soon. Once he was in the oval office, there was no more danger. It’s hard to have a late night meet up on a partially deserted train platform when you have a secret service detail.
For this show to have worked over multiple seasons, we needed to wait till the last minutes of the last episode for him to get what he wanted. Think of how much fun it would have been to see Frank, a newly minted President, pausing in the door to oval office to whisper to us, “now let’s have some fun.”
So, what have you lost days to on Netflix? I’m currently without anything to watch.
Recommend away and Write on,
Melissa
p.s.
What does a greyhound being vacuumed have to do with House of Cards? Nothing. But look at how happy that dog is. I’m partial to Greys. My Roxie was with me for 9 years and was the inspiration for Cyrano a Greyhound in the book I’m currently writing, How to Sex Your Snake. If you’re looking for a low maintenance, lazy-ass, sleep all day on the couch kind of dog. Greyhounds are the way to go.
A couple of weeks ago, it was nice enough to run outside. I think it was 17 degrees that day. You don’t know how much it pains me to say that 17 degrees was nice.
The other day I decided to play hookie and drove down to Appleton for the day. Since I was in no hurry, I took the long meandering way, through the backroads, only getting lost once when my map software stopped working, swinging by the casino for a quick break, and two hours later getting back on the road forty dollars poorer and only halfway to my destination. At one point, I was passing through one of the tiny villages en route, and I saw a guy hitchhiking. He had three or four plastic shopping bags dangling from his hands as he stuck out his thumb and for half a second, I thought about how cold it was and how far he might be from home. And then I was past him and my momentary twinge of guilt was replaced with an image of Ted Bundy.
That’s not to say I haven’t stopped for hitchhikers in the past.
In Arizona, my son and I picked up a rather tall man and his adorable red headed toddler one scorching afternoon. The poor man’s car had broken down and he told us that the two had already walked several miles as cars zoomed past and ignored them. We dropped father and son at the first gas station we passed. Years before that, I stopped for a couple at the entrance to an airport. They were next a stalled car, with suitcases beside them. I don’t know why I picked them up. Maybe it was the desperation they oozed. They jumped in, professed their love for me and I got them to the departure area with just enough time to make their flight. I always wonder what happened to their car.
So what makes us stop and what scares us away? If you think about Mr. Bundy, everything about hitchhikers should scare you away. Things are not always as they seem. That father could have kidnapped that small boy and been on the run. That couple could have simply found a stalled car and posed next to it, their suitcases empty and waiting to be filled with the dismembered body of a gullible driver.
My days of picking up strangers are probably over. I’m not as adventuresome as I was in my younger days. How about you? Have you ever pick up a hitcher? Were you the hitcher?
Leave your story in the comments and Write on,
Melissa
p.s.
If you can find it, watch The Hitcher starring Rutger Hauer, an absolutely terrifying movie. Don’t bother with the remake. They changed the story and completely ruined it.
Would you look twice at a giant shell on the sidewalk?
Christmas special spoilers sweetie
So a few days ago, I got in another viewing of the latest Doctor Who Christmas special. It was a great episode. Which surprised the hell out of me. Always been a fan of River. Never of Capaldi. As the Doctor. I love him in, In the Loop (Last I checked, it was still on Netflix) Even liked him in his guest stint on Who, a few years back. His Doctor, though, from day one has been, well, odd. There’s such a lack of energy and he always looks so uncomfortable. Like he really didn’t want to be there. When the Doctor is on screen, I shouldn’t be able to take my eyes off him. (even the Master and then later Missy command all of my attention) With Capaldi, I can make dinner while I listen to the show.
This year’s Christmas special, however, turned all that around. Capaldi as the Doctor was actually fun. And I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. And that’s why I watch Doctor Who. It’s fun. And it leaves you pumped. Even when David Tennant’s Doctor was in scold mode, it was okay, because I knew that at any moment, he’d be fun again. As this year’s Christmas ep ended, I actually felt sad for a moment, thinking I’d miss Capaldi when he’s gone. (There was a blurb recently insinuating this next season would be his last) Then I thought about the first two seasons and the only reason I kept watching – Clara.
Which brings me back to the Christmas special. How cool is it that Clara and Me run off in a stolen TARDIS? And that TARDIS! All white and clean and full of possibilities. So, my question is this, if you were lucky enough to steal a TARDIS how would you decorate? What would you conceal it as? I look around and have zero ideas of what I’d do. The telephone box is so ingrained in my mind. How about you? Any thoughts?
Think of the possibilities and Write on,
Melissa
p.s.
Yes, I’ll watch the new season when it airs. Doctor Who is bigger than just Capaldi. And maybe, he’s grown on me enough that I’ll even watch in real time.
p.p.s.
an example of why you should always brush your hair. stupid selfie culture
Fosterdog Mia went home with her mom and dad this past Saturday. I was going to write a post about it, but I was too sad. So, instead here’s a last selfie she and I got in before the doorbell rang. It’s been a few days now and I’m fine. She was very happy to see her folks and kept loving them and then running back to me to tell me all about how her folks were there and then running back to love them. It was really sweet.
I can’t believe it’s April 13th. Last time I looked, it was March 29 and we were headed out to Tucson, 1868 miles, to prep the house for sale.
So, my youngest offspring and I are both trying to finish things. He’s working through some videos prepping for an IT certification test and I’m trying to get my latest project, the novel, How to Sex Your Snake finished and off to my editor. We decide to engage in a little friendly 
Melissa Banczak 