Why Writers Like the Rain

It's raining now. The forecast is rain, baby, rain for days. The enemy to writing is beautiful weather. Warm, balmy days, blue skies, birds singing, people telling you to get outside and enjoy the day - bleh.

It's a guilt sandwich. Go outside and feel guilty that you're not inside getting words down. Stay inside and feel guilty that you're wasting a gorgeous day. 

Rain fixes that. 

I'm currently at work on book five in the St. Ives Book Club Mystery series, The Body in the Ravine, and I'm having a blast. It's due for release on July 12, 2022 barring Acts of God that knock out the power at the eleventh hour. Ontario was pretty badly hit by a major storm on the weekend and many people are still without power. 

This one is a little different for Elliot Marks and the St. Ives Book Club. 

While birdwatching with her group, Veronica Wakefield-Brice discovers a body hanging in the ravine behind her stately Ontario mansion. She is put out that the man chose her ravine in which to kill himself when there are so many other trees in St. Ives. His death is ruled suicide but when Elliot Marks finds a pair of shoes in Rainbow Lake, Veronica finds herself in the middle of the book club's murder-solving hobby. 

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A few more weeks of crappy weather and I'll be finished. My significant other bought me a new electric lawnmower yesterday. (I am the mower of the lawn in our household) Fortunately the rain prevents me from leaving my desk for a few days yet. 

Hah! Foiled again, you people who want me outside!

Happy International Women's Day!

Will I be celebrating female accomplishment in the middle of a pandemic, while locked in my house with nothing but lashings of red wine to sustain me?

Have we met?

I snagged a ticket for Tricky Women Animation Festival, an online international festival of short works by women filmmakers. One credit gives you access to one program and the one I'm going to see is Exploring Realities: Animated Documentaries on Friday, March 12 (must-not-be-missed: Catcalls).

There is a whole slate of programs available. Buy a little or buy a lot. I paid a little over six bucks Canadian for nine shorts and a discussion after. And if I can't make the Friday date, I can watch up to 48 hours later.

For a borderline recluse who wishes she enjoyed going out more, this pandemic is delivering the goods. The silver linings. The introvert's happy place. The comfort of my own home whilst engaging in world wide culture and discussion.

And wine. There will be wine. 

Whatever we do to celebrate this day, I hope we do it with cheer, remembering where we were, where we are, and looking forward to where we are going. 

Facebook shows its Evil Side

My love for Facebook is zero as many of you know.

Since it was unleashed on the world, young people have suffered increasingly from depression and anxiety levels have shot up in adults. It is not a fun, benign platform for folks to share pictures of their pets doing cute things. It is a frequently nasty cesspool of misinformation, hate speech and trolling fertilized by unbridled corporate greed.

But hey, that's just my opinion.

When I was blocked from joining due to my last name, I decided to make no attempt to appease the Great God Zuckerberg by sending his minions my personal identification. If he's too fucking stupid to program his AI to recognize the Doolittle name, then he doesn't deserve my eyeballs or my data.

Speaking of data....

This arrived in my inbox this morning from Friends of Canadian Broadcasting:

Dear Nadine,

As you and I concentrate on our families' health and safety in the midst of this pandemic, a small news item popped up under the radar: Facebook is suing the Canadian people. Maybe they thought we weren't paying attention.

Here's some background. Last year, Daniel Therrien, Canada's privacy commissioner, ruled that Facebook broke the law when it allowed our private information to be sold to Cambridge Analytica without our consent. That's the firm which led Donald Trump's misinformation offensive online.

Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg, his lackeys, and his lobbyists have decided that the Privacy Commissioner, an officer of Parliament, shouldn't be allowed to tell them how to treat Canadians' private information. So they're going to court to sue Canada – you and me – for having the nerve to govern our own country.

This is just the latest example of US tech companies pushing us around. Amazon, Google, Facebook, Netflix: they don't follow our rules and they don't pay our taxes. So while you and I band together to ensure that Canadians make it through this crisis in good health, these outlaws are suing us so for the right to keep screwing us.

We can't let Facebook and other foreign tech companies decide what our laws should be. We must stand up for our values and our sovereignty.

Facebook and Google have decimated our media. They've claimed the content of Canada's journalists and creators as their own. They take it, for free, and make billions of dollars selling ads. Meanwhile, Canada's creators, artists and journalists are going bankrupt in huge numbers.

Enough. It's time for Canada to stand up for itself, and impose stringent regulations and taxes on foreign owned tech giants.

Send a letter to Prime Minister Trudeau now

By sending your message now, you're making it clear that you want Canada to stand up for itself. Thank you.

Best regards,

Daniel Bernhard
Executive Director
FRIENDS of Canadian Broadcasting

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Zuckerberg is an asshole, but I'm not going to write PM Trudeau about this when he has enough to deal with right now. And battling the false information being distributed through Facebook about COVID-19 isn't helping matters.

But I will post this as a Public Service Message to my fellow Canadians. When you find yourself reading ripped off news items on Facebook, just remember the lawsuit your nation is facing in the middle of a pandemic because of this billionaire asshole, and conduct yourself accordingly.

What can you do?

Don't click on any ads you're shown. That cuts right into Zuckerberg's revenue by driving advertisers away when they realize Facebook doesn't produce a return on investment. Use the platform to connect but give away as little information as possible. Don't take any surveys. It's like having a private conversation on a crowded train. Talk, but in a lowered voice.

And if you can, delete your account and liberate yourself from the swamp. Your mental health will thank you. Lots of people function brilliantly without Facebook. But if that's not possible, resolve not to give them a penny in clicks or links or the content they crave.

If 19 million Canadians (the number of Facebook users in this country) abruptly ceased to use the platform and profits tanked, Zuckerberg would get the message.

Don't fuck with us. We are not that nice.

Day 20 of Social Isolation

How is everyone doing? No matter how tough it is for us, it's a hell of a lot tougher for those on the frontline. We have to pull our weight to make their jobs easier.

From our girl, Alanis Morissette's Thank U, Chris Mann has created an ode of thanks to all the hardworking men and women out there who are keeping us all alive while we self-isolate.

Chris Mann Thank U Frontline (Alanis Morissette)

And after you've done that, if you're in Canada, head on over to flatten.ca and log in your COVID-19 data. This resource is being used by doctors and scientists in the country to figure out where we are headed.  It took me about three minutes to plunk in my info.

FLATTEN is a not-for-profit organization platform for collecting and providing real time information regarding the spread of COVID-19 in your local community and around the nation.

Stay home. If you must go out, wash your hands for 20 seconds with soap before and after you return. Don't touch your face! (hard one to remember). And practice two metres of social distancing when you're in public.

The sooner we flatten the curve, the sooner we can get outta here.

Flatten the Curve!

Happy Friday, my fellow social distancing Canadians!

It's hard to believe that a mere two weeks ago on Friday the 13th, we all raced out to stock up on supplies and hunkered down in our homes to FLATTEN THE CURVE.

It's working, guys. Maclean's posts updates in a handy graph which I check somewhat obsessively:

https://www.macleans.ca/society/health/coronavirus-in-canada-these-charts-show-how-our-fight-to-flatten-the-curve-is-going/

The green line on the world graph is bending. That's us. We have to stay the course to beat this mutha, give our healthcare workers some breathing room, and soon we'll get our lives back on track.

If we get impatient, piss around and act stupid, we'll lose the battle and wind up back in the trenches economically and physically. Crawling out at that point will be really fucking hard.

So take a breath (because you still can) and settle in for another week with books or journaling or painting or learning a musical instrument or a language. There are so many things to do that we couldn't do when we're working full time. Seize this opportunity!

Tune into the good news stories and tune out the voices that say this virus is no big deal and none of this is necessary. It is necessary and we will pay the price of losing this battle in prolonged economic hardship and death.

We're going to flatten the curve with social distancing, 14 day voluntary quarantine, frequent handwashing, and limiting our trips to stores. We are not going to get sick through stupidity or carelessness.

This affects all of us. Every Canadian from the newest of the new to those who can trace their ancestry on this land back thousands of years.

This is a war and we are warriors.

Trump, Russia and Kim Jong-un: The Plot Thickens

As no one knows (except my internet provider) I spend fabulous amounts of time following the gripping spy novel that is currently unfolding in the American White House.

I'm a crime writer. I have a cynical mind. And when something smells, I immediately think dead body. And there is a powerful stench coming off this latest announcement that North Korea's Kim Jong-un has invited Trump to talk peace.

Okay, that's not the stinky bit. It's this: Kim Jong-un "understands that the routine joint military exercises between South Korea and the U.S. must continue." 

Whoa. That's a rotten bit of flesh buried in the basement right there.

Does Kim Jong-un strike you as a guy who understands stuff? Has he striven to give the Western world the impression that he's a guy who understands stuff? This is a statement so utterly out of character that I'd have trouble putting it in a novel without getting slammed by readers.

It's a complete about-face, which is always suspect in the spy game. I have another theory as to what is really going on here. Brace yourselves.

The public animosity between Trump and Jong-un wasn't real. The 'little rocket man' stuff was a magician's trick to keep our attention on the wrong thing. It was pure theatre--little boys taunting each other on the playground. They love their egos and nothing else. Not even their countries.

But they have nukes! Yes, they do and they love showing them off. Trump is next up in the Hit Parade apparently. He's arm-twisted the Pentagon into giving him a military parade. It's fun to show their nukes off; it's less fun to blow everyone up who follows you on Twitter.

That Twitter war offered us a clue, however. Why did they think they could get away with it? I mean, the usual deal is we don't say certain things because of consequences. The prevailing theory is that Jong-un and Trump are unhinged and act without thinking of the consequences. But if that was true then there would be no hope of reasoning with either of them and we'd be in fear of a nuclear winter right now given the insults they've lobbed at each other.

My theory is that these boys didn't think of the consequences because they knew there wouldn't be any.

Let's cut to the chase because it's Friday afternoon and wine awaits.

1. Putin is the Papa Bear behind the Trump/Jong-un relationship. He told them to squabble. He told them to make up. They could get away with their taunts because they both knew the other wouldn't do anything about it. Trump knew Putin was sitting on Kim and Kim knew Putin was sitting on Trump. 

So now the leap is not so great from "stand-off" to "hey, let's talk, buddy." Putin wants them to make up, at least in public--hence Kim Jong-un's sudden about-face. But what's in it for Putin? 

2. Well, he went to great expense to put Trump in office and so far the Trump Administration is working out really well for him. (Trump is Putin's Employee of the Year) Putin wants Trump in office in 2020 but Trump is so spectacularly incompetent, he'll have to win the Nobel Peace Prize to pull it off. So....

3.  Enter Rocket Man, the nukes, the "tensions" and the stunning about-face to talk peace with his nemesis. Jong-un goes along with the show because he depends on Russia, he wants Western recognition and he wants the sanctions lifted. And more importantly, he loves the attention.  

4. As the curtain goes down, the boys will shake hands and make up because Papa Putin tells them to so Donald can win the Nobel Peace Prize and the presidency. The End.  

It lacks the panache of a Bourne conspiracy but I'm going to put it in the novel anyway. I've kept copious notes on the Trump-Russia Affair, hoping to turn these real-time historic events into a political thriller once the dust settles. Except that the dust shows no sign of settling. There's always a new layer.

For further reading check out: The Diplomat Russia's Relationship with North Korea. It's Complicated.

And because we gotta laugh, check out Keith Olbermann of GQ: The Resistance on YouTube for some of the wittiest, in-depth, take-no-prisoners reporting on the Trump Administration that I've seen. God bless free speech!

Happy March, folks.

In Celebration of Black History Month

I was wondering what I could do to celebrate this month and then I remembered my clever niece wrote an essay for her class last year that was an eye-opener for her white aunts and uncles. She gave me permission to publish it on my blog. What better time than this month.
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The World Is Not Black and White

The world is not black and white, it’s not even a rainbow. A rainbow would imply each colour is separated by distinct lines which is simply not the case. The world is a spectrum of vibrant colours in thousands of shades. Pinks, yellows, purples, and every colour you could think of in every shade possible. Unfortunately to most people, the world is black and white, at least where I grew up it was.

I grew up in a notoriously white neighbourhood. I had not seen another black person until I was six years old. I used to think I had a skin condition which I inherited from my mother that made me darker than the other kids. It wasn’t until I started elementary school when I saw other people like me. There were a handful of black children in the whole school and they all seemed to know each other, however, I didn’t know them and they didn’t know me. I couldn’t talk to them and they couldn’t talk to me.

Looking back, elementary school was a tough time for me. I wasn’t fully aware of what people were saying or the meaning of their actions until I was older. My most fond memory of my childhood was when I joined Girl Scouts and we had an activity where everyone placed a pin in a country on a world map of where they were from. Europe was completely covered. I had just taken two pins and before I knew it they were snatched out of my hands by a scout who thought she was funny. “I know where these go,” she laughed to the other girls, “right here!” she said putting both pins in the centre of Africa. The scouts laughed but I was more confused. Even if I was African, which I’m not, why would that be funny? I took the pins out of The Congo and placed one in Jamaica and one in Scotland. They were completely baffled. “How are you from Scotland?” one asked me “My father’s parents,” I said. “So does that make you white?” a different scout asked me. “I guess” I replied, I had never used labels before so I wasn’t complete sure what they meant. Since that day, none of the scouts believed that I was born with two races; it was almost like they’ve never heard of bi-racialism...maybe because they hadn’t.

Kids can be cruel. I’ve been called a mutt and I’ve been called “Reblacka”.  The worst was learning about Black History in elementary school that memory will stay with me forever. Being the only black kid in the class made the experience all the more uncomfortable. “Were your ancestors slaves?” “if my ancestors every owned your ancestors I’m so sorry” “Does that mean your Grandpa owned your other Grandma?” Sure they meant well but having every kid in this class ask you about your slave grandparents for a month was really awkward. Then we watched a video on Martin Luther King Jr. and it showed old footage of businesses with signs posted on doors saying “No N*ggers Allowed.” A student asked my teacher what that word meant and my teacher told them “It’s a really rude word people used to call black people a long time ago,” then a student turned to me and said “Hey Rebecca-Lynn’s a n*gger!” and some other kids joined in as well, meanwhile other kids were debating whether I truly was a n*gger because I’m also half white. It became a class discussion so my teacher tried her best to stop them but they were having a laugh. As a child I never really understood the real meaning of the word and I’m sure the kids didn’t either, but what upset me as a child was that the teacher told them it was a bad word yet they chose to use it anyways.

As I got older, I met more and more bi-racial people and they all had one thing in common. They were either willfully blind or leaning; and I really don’t blame them. Unless you comply with typical stereotypes, you won’t be considered as your race. I don’t listen to rap music and I love British food; for that, most people don’t consider me as black despite having darker skin. Most biracial people, in my experience, lean more to the side they take the most physical features from; some won’t even acknowledge their other half, which I think is unfortunate. I feel blessed to be born with two races, two beautiful cultures, and the idea of ignoring one to conform to other people’s close-minded standards breaks my heart.

As I entered middle school and high school, I often received the same compliment—If you can call it that--, “You’re really pretty for a black girl!” How does one respond to that? What does that even mean “for a black girl?” I accepted the compliment to be nice, however because of that comment, some black girls actually started looking at me a different way. To them, the only thing that made me “pretty” was the fact that I was half white; that’s where the beauty was. But I think my beauty comes from both sides, the best of both worlds if you would.

A lot of the time, people couldn’t see past my whiteness or my blackness. Being told by white people that “you’re not black/white enough to do that” or being told by black people that “you’re only half black/white so technically it doesn’t count” can start off as a funny comment but after a while it can become hurtful. I’ve even had KKK songs sung to me because someone assumed it wouldn’t be as offensive because I’m only half black. By their logic, Obama is only half black so technically he wasn’t the first black president and Drake isn’t “black enough” to embrace his Caribbean culture. It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? People like to pick and choose which biracial person gets to be considered what, but frankly it’s none of their business.

I’ve been told by people of all races that I’m not good enough for my race because most people aren’t used to one person belonging to more than one race. Bi-racialism is becoming more and more common in today’s world. Cultures are mixing and diversity is becoming more and more prominent. As the saying goes, old habits die hard and people still consider the world as black and white, but the world is no longer black and white, nor is it a rainbow. The world is a huge spectrum of cultures and colours in every shade; and it’s beautiful.

Rebecca-Lynn Doolittle
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Thank you for reading and I hope we all join in the celebration!

Black History Month Canada

Oh Canada--it is time to grow up.

You know you're old when....

You remember your country's Centennial birthday. "It's the hundredth anniversary of Confederation! Everybody sing together!"

That year we travelled from British Columbia to Quebec in my parent's black station wagon towing a pink trailer to attend Expo 67. To fully grasp the insanity of this adventure, my parents had 6 children under the age of 10 and my mother was pregnant with no. 7.

I got lost at the Fair, was found by two French-speaking nuns. I didn't understand the language (even after numerous Saturday mornings of watching Chez Helene on the CBC) but I wasn't worried because they were nuns, right? They brought me to the Lost Children's Centre where I was given ice cream. My sister was sent to recover me, my parents were furious and I've been getting lost ever since.

What was unknown to me in those exciting days of Canada's 100th and bursting national pride was that children my age were being taken from their parents and forced into residential schools. In the very country that I was being taught to love, children were being grievously harmed by the policies of that country. The very institutions that took pains to return me to my parents were separating other children from their parents.

The only difference between me and the kids forced into residential schools is that I was white and they were aboriginal. I don't classify that as a difference. A kid is a kid is a kid. It boggles my mind. 1967 was hardly the dark ages. What the fuck was going on in the minds of those men and women? How could any human being conclude that taking children from their parents was a legitimate, moral act? What "problem" did those Canadians hope to solve by inflicting emotional and mental cruelty on other Canadians?

Fifty years later, lesson learned: It didn't solve a fucking thing. How could it possibly? Common sense--not hindsight--makes that clear. A 7-year-old school kid could have told those overpaid policy makers it was a bad idea. Our eyes are open, we have the facts, there's no stuffing that genie back in the bottle.

I'll celebrate my country's 150th birthday--but I'm not interested in rewriting the past. I'm not interested in equivocations or whitewashing so we can all have a good time. I don't want my little grandsons to be celebrating Canada's 200th birthday, wondering what was wrong with grandma's generation that we gave up on making this right when the going got tough.

We're all feeling warm and fuzzy right now and I don't want to be a buzz kill but I know this nation is capable of doing better. I know her gifts and untapped strength. I know she's a tough old bird who drives out the weak-minded and greedy, and rewards the morally conscious. If we don't dig in our heels and resolve to get  this right, then what the hell do we have to be proud of?

I'm going to sing the national anthem and celebrate the years to come with a mind, heart and will moving toward reconciliation with the first peoples of Canada--the best of Canada--the First Nations.

I pray every Canadian does the same. Happy Canada Day.

President Trump.

So does this mean the US electoral system isn't corrupt...?

Just trying to understand here.

All I heard every freaking day from Donald Trump during the campaign was that the US system for collecting votes and counting votes was "fixed", "rigged" -- completely untrustworthy, and heads were gonna roll if The Donald lost.

Well, The Donald won. So can I assume that the US President-elect was not lying and the electoral system that put him in office is "fixed", "rigged" and he didn't win fair and square?

Or is the system fine and The Donald is a liar. Did the US President-elect lie to the American people?

Which is it? Because it's one or the other.

Another quick question: if The Donald can lie about the US electoral system, can he be trusted to tell the truth when he takes the Oath of Office?

Hmm. A leopard does not change his spots as my mother used to say.

Read a book. Blow stuff up in your mind. This too shall pass.

Happy Halloween!

Nothing scary in my neck of the woods, but fellow Canadian indie author, Steve Vernon has a Night Time Podcast up: 

Haunted Halifax with Steve Vernon

Check it out tonight while you're handing out Mars Bars.

Chilling!

Seriously talented young musician.

 CAITLIN WARD

Caitlin Ward was my young neighbour in Rupert, Quebec for a few years. She was a nice kid who really liked animals. One day, being a good neighbour, she popped over to show me her pet snake--little realizing I had a huge snake phobia. My screams went down in recorded history of the village. Her mom and I were in the same book club for awhile and she told me Caitlin was a musician. Encouraging young talent is necessary for older creative people, so I said "send me the link to her stuff and I'll post it on my blog." (I get traffic. Stop that smirking.)

Today, I finally got around to watching Caitlin perform and wow. WOW!

I'm thrilled to introduce my critter-loving young neighbour who grew up to be a dynamite singer-musician.

Caitlin Ward on YouTube

Caitlin Ward Music on Facebook

Caitlin Ward on Soundcloud

Writers and Grandchildren

I'm not one to brag... but Calvin Michael was born on Dec.5, 2015 joining his cousins, Oliver and Harrison. 

I have three grandsons. Three! I thought it couldn't get any better.

And then...

My stepdaughter is expecting her first child in May and cleverly announced the sex on Boxing Day by giving us BLUE Christmas balls. Four grandsons! 

I'm thrilled to bits. These little guys are a total joy to be around. The best part of being a writer with grandchildren is they laugh at your jokes and when you tell silly stories they think you're a genius. There is no bad part. 

How fitting that this is my 100th post. Long before these little boys were a gleam in anyone's eye, I was holding vigil for a book that was out on submission and blogging about it. I felt like my life hung in the balance. I felt like everything was riding on that one book finding a publisher. I was wrong, as usual.

No matter how low we are in the moment, the future holds good gifts. Hold on and all will be well. 

Happy anniversary to all the blogging writers who are holding on and telling us about it.

A Writer's New Year's Resolutions

1. Write better books.

2. Get more exercise.

3. Write more books.

4. Make more money (anything above poverty level will do)

Resolution 4 used to top my list. Year after year, making money was my number one priority and year after year, it was never enough. I make more now than I did last year but at the expense of my body, emotional well-being and the joy of writing. So I'm ditching Resolution 4. 

Selling books is a crap shoot. Writers can spend years crafting novels and never make enough to pay the Hydro bill. Or they can spend 14 days writing a novel that lies there like a dead dog in August and never sells a copy. Or they can spend years working on craft and net thousands upon thousands of dollars from one book, or the exact same result could be achieved after a weekend of booze-induced scribbling. Total crap shoot.

I hereby resolve to ignore sales reports, do my best and let the money take care of itself. Sink or swim, the book is on its own. 

Next!

Resolution 1 and 3 can grow to like each other with steady, daily application to the word count. 200 words a day for 365 days equals one reasonably-sized book. 200 words is a walk in the park. For me and other writers, the demarcation between "good writing" and "cranking it out" is 2000 to 3000 words a day. 2K for me is a good day's work. A friendly, patient approach and good books will come in great quantity.

I resolve to write good books and more of them with daily dedicated application of 200 to 2000 words.

Which brings us to Resolution 2. All of us who sit in front of a computer for hours at a time need to stand up. Right now. I can see you. You're not standing. It has become life-threatening to sit for hours. (It probably always was but we're just learning about it.) I've restructured my office to allow me to stand and work. But that's not enough. Daily exercise outside improves just about everything.

I resolve to take a daily walk, which will help me stick to Resolution 1 and 3 and increase the odds of number 4 happening in my lifetime. 

I'll report back on December 31, 2016 (God and Blogger willing) on how my 2016 Resolutions panned out. Because that could be fun. Or not. We shall see!

Venosta, Quebec Writers' Retreat

I am off on a Writers' Retreat Sept. 25th to 27th in gorgeous Venosta, Quebec. I have never taken a retreat before due to lack of time and money and a deep-seated insecurity about the work. None of which has changed but I'm a sucker for a heritage farm house in the Gatineau Hills and I have a new series I'm struggling to get locked down for 2016.  

Mark Frutkin is the artist-in-residence. I read Erratic North and loved it. Thus, I am excited by the work ahead, tempered with rational dismay by the work ahead. 

Here is where the retreat is being held:  

http://www.venostawritersretreat.com/

What else is happening in my writing life?

I'm trying to zero in on the titles that did well since I began self-publishing, the titles that show promise and the titles I should put to bed. It's finding what interests me, what appeals to the market (readers) and the time I have available all in one place and then directing my energy there. Some writers nail this out of the gate and others (me) are slow learners. Onward!

Have a blessed weekend and don't forget to download your free copy of Heathcliff today on Amazon.

Because it's June! June, June, June!

You would have to enjoy Broadway show tunes to get the reference. Or live in a cold country.

I'm too busy to enjoy the summer. I have a writing schedule that would fell a horse. To help me out, I recently acquired a headset with microphone to use the Speech-to-Text function already loaded on my computer. It is an amazing tool for getting out that all-important first draft. I can talk out a lot of the subtext in the story and edit it in later. My wrist and back have been killing me from sitting long hours hunched in front of the screen. But it's not like a car that parks itself. My first go at it was only modestly successful. I had to do a lot of editing because APPARENTLY I talk a lot about stuff of absolutely no interest. I bored even myself.

In other news, my daughter is going to have a baby at the end of November. So that will be three grandchildren. Let me tell you something about kids. You tell them to do something and they don't do it. You tell them not to do something and they do it. I specifically said I wanted my fifties to get my ducks in a row before I became a grandmother. Did they listen? No.

I'm thrilled, but also under the gun to get the house finished so I have room to put them all up when they come to visit. Between us, we have four children who are all married or getting married and starting families of their own. Still, after spending ten days with my two-year-old grandson, I'm glad my kids didn't listen to me. That little guy wore me out.

My goals this summer:
1) A rough draft of a new series
2) Daily exercise (I should just 'cut-and-paste' this every month.)
3) Get over snake phobia and weed garden.