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Archive for the ‘writing’ Category

On a couple of occasions in the past, I’ve blogged about my dad and his quirkiness. I’m not going to bore you with the history, but my dad is back in Mississippi and living here at the inn with my husband and I again. It has been a blessing and a burden at the same time.

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Most of you know that I am an author. One of the hardest parts about being an author is marketing and selling your books. Nobody tells you that when you start writing. As a newbie you focus on the mechanics of writing, proper English, not getting too bogged down with the minutia and keeping the story moving along. Designing the covers is the fun part. Editing is the tedious part. But selling and marking is the absolute hardest part.

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Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens . . .

Photo by P. Rickrode
Photo by P. Rickrode (my Fatso when he was a wee lump of fur)
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Cheers! Huzzah! Mazel Tov! I’ll drink to that!

Americans have lots of expressions that accompany raising a glass and toasting something or other, be it a congratulatory tinking of crystal flutes to the bride and groom or clanking long-necked beer bottles to the father-to-be. Some have even been known to raise a glass in honor of a much-needed divorce being finalized or the good riddance of a bad boss. Either way, celebrating with alcohol is a very common and popular practice. One I highly condone, but please use moderation when imbibing. And NEVER drive afterward.

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Do you ever look at a person and immediately formulate an opinion about them, be it by their clothes, their hair, their tattoos, etc.? It’s easy to do. It’s easy to look at someone and decide right then and there that there is something wrong with them or something unpleasant enough that you want to keep your distance. But is there really something wrong with them? Are they really unpleasant to be around? Does their pink hair really mean they’re starved for attention? Do their whole-body tattoos mean they have low self-esteem? Does their revealing clothing really mean they have loose morals? Maybe. Probably not. But, if you don’t look deeper, you’ll never find out.

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The best advice, when life hands you lemons, is to make lemonade. Not always an easy thing to do. Well, I’ve been handed some lemons. Lots of lemons. Cancellations have been flooding in – AGAIN. Between school starting, this new covid variant, and threats of violent weather, people were opting not to travel to Vicksburg. August is usually our month of European travelers. But, we all know they are still forbidden to travel to the US. So . . . . here we sit. Again. With a houseful of empty rooms and a lap full of lemons.

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It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m sitting in my office looking outside wondering why more people aren’t out enjoying this picture-perfect day. It is absolutely gorgeous out right now. Sunny, not too hot, light breeze out of the south. It’s delightful porch-sitting, iced tea sipping weather. Except for that darned old weather forecast, I’d say it’s a downright perfect day. Hurricane? What hurricane?

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Everybody loves snacks. They do. Just ask anybody what their favorite snack is, and they’ll have an answer. A lot of people won’t even have to think about it, they’ll just instantly say what their favorite snack is. Except me. I don’t necessarily have a favorite snack as much as I have a favorite snack type. Salty.

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Sometimes you have to be your own doctor. After all, that’s why WebMD was created right? Self-diagnosis is great, but dangerous at the same time. Sometimes when I’ve been looking something up on that site I’ve been led astray and ended up believing I had numerous contagious diseases and bizarre medical conditions that I must immediately seek treatment for or I just might die. But, not this time. This time, I was right on the money with my self-diagnosed syndrome.

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It’s been almost 4 years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It’s certainly one of those days that I’ll probably remember for the rest of my life. It’s the day your life changes and the day your routine is interrupted, and your life gets arranged for you by everyone except you.

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