Melancholy Mornings

August used to be one of my favorite months.  

It meant that school was about to restart, allowing me to see all the friends I'd been missing all summer, even though that also meant the end of swimming lessons, where I had made other friends.  

It was a special month for family birthdays as well.  My eldest sister's birthday, with all the cousins and a bunch of friends coming over for a big bash, was always so much fun.

But as the years have come and gone, it's Dad's birthday that became more important...because I can no longer celebrate with him, give him the hugs and kisses I wish to give, whisper how much I love him and how much he meant to me....

His birth date was always easy to remember: 8/28/28

He was the youngest of nine children and the age difference between himself and his eldest sibling was 24 years.  He was an uncle many times over before he was even born, which was always amusing when a "cousin" made an appearance somewhere and I had to try to explain that to friends whose cousins were all close to our own age.  Of course, because there were so many and they had spread out by the time I made my appearance on Earth, I can't name most of my cousins on Dad's side, much less the second and third cousins.  I've been doing genealogical research for years trying to trace the various lines and have new "friends" on Facebook among the relations I've managed to locate.

Friends and family always speak about his sense of humor, as he was always one to go for the laugh.  His dance style always reminded me most of watching "The Wizard of Oz", as the Scarecrow's loose-limbed dance to "If I Only Had A Brain" was Dad's style.  

But he also had a temper.  It was rare for outsiders to see it, as he would bite his tongue, smile and bury it in front of the people he had to deal with on an everyday basis.  His children and the need to provide for his family mattered more than his own personal feelings, and he would do this rather than find himself needing to find a new job because he back talked the wrong person, but there were times when he would rage and throw things - usually out in his garage, where no one would be harmed except for him when he let the magma out of the well-tamped volcano.

I fought my own raging temper for years until I was able to do as my father taught me.

I also inherited his crooked smile, seen here in an undated photo of him with my mom, I suspect taken while they were dating before their marriage in 1956.

 

After watching him slowly go from this sweet, loving person who would do anything for his family to someone who looked like he'd been in a concentration camp over 18 months when I was supposed to be going out into the world to find my own way, I lost him on July 21, 1980.  My heart has never recovered.

So on this day, when I should have been requesting a day off in order to be able to celebrate Dad's 86th birthday with him, I'm writing a memorial to him while tears flow down my cheeks.  Instead of being able to hug him and kiss him and watch him play with his great-granddaughter, who is so much like him in her cheer and brilliant little mind, I pray that he is seeing her from wherever his spirit resides - and smiling like he always did.

I love you, Dad!

Beginning the Editing Process - With a Protest

Over this past weekend, I finished the rough draft for "A Wild Tiger's Heart".  My husband, hearing me say something to a friend, thinks that I'm done with this book and won't be using the computer much for a while.

Silly man.

I came home after a long day at work, called my sister to get some insight on one of the countries she's visited, but that I haven't had the chance to see myself (and that plays into my story line), and then I started editing....much to hubby's disappointment when he walked in to find me on the computer.

I'm still trying to figure out why he gets all bent out of shape about me spending time on the computer, because when he got home and we had finished discussing how our days went, he fell asleep beside me while watching a television show that he was interested in, but I wasn't.  I didn't change the channel.  I got up and went back to editing.

I also edit when he's out fishing.  Or when he's tying flies to go fishing.  Or when he's watching videos about how to tie certain flies so he can make them in order to go fishing.  Or when he's reading things like The Northwoods Sporting Journal about the things he can do and see when he isn't fishing.

In short, he likes fishing and I like writing.  I think it's an equitable arrangement that he gets to have his hobby and I get to have mine.  Until he gets grumpy about the computer thing and says things that he shouldn't about MY hobb

As I may have mentioned in another post, he and I met in 1980 and moved in together in 1981.  It's been a couple of years since then, and most of the time, we get along quite well.  The times we didn't get along in the early years was when he was listening to his mother say things like "Writing is a waste of time that could be better used doing other things" and accepting that her view of how life should be was the only way it could possibly be - even when he was rebelling against her himself.  The times we still have issues is when he opens his mouth and his mother comes out.

I suppose I could be the good little wifey of the era when our parents grew up, listening to every word my husband says and obeying him like it's the law of the land.

Um, yeah.  Like THAT is going to happen.  Maybe if he'd married that submissive little gal that his mama liked so much because she wouldn't say "Boo".....

I'm not her.

So, as I wait for a Fedex delivery and putter around before going in for another day at the Staples Gym, where they pay me to lift heavy things and put them down (as opposed to the other gyms, that expect ME to pay THEM for allowing me to go in and use their equipment for my workouts), I'll be editing "A Wild Tiger's Heart".  I'll be adding in some of the description from my sister and some friends I've already interviewed or will be soon about the countries my characters are visiting, but I never have.  I'll be correcting the stupid things like I found last night in which I went back during the rough draft to change something, but didn't complete the task, like that sentence in which I wrote something like "She was enjoying the quiet her on her porch."  (I'm still not sure which language the grammar correction app on my program thinks that's acceptable in, but suffice to say that the grammar correction app missed that one.)

And if you see my name on an arrest report for burning the room in my house where there is easily a few hundred dollars worth of fly tying equipment, I'll be editing in the jailhouse while I await my trial.

C'est la vie, as they say in France, which is one of the places my characters are going that I've never been....

A word about Writer's Block...

Someone on Goodreads asked the other day how I handle that ever popular ailment, Writer's Block.

I have a hard time with actually coming up with a constructive answer for that one.  This is how I think of this problem:

Seriously.  The stories basically are just there in my head, the characters running their lines until I can get to the keyboard and get the words down.  When one set of characters either isn't speaking to me or there's some sort of turmoil over where the story is currently going, I see who else is talking and work on another piece for a while.  There's very seldom a point when NO ONE talks, so it's hard to tell how to get past a "block" that never seems to occur.

Now, if a SCENE isn't quite working out, that's a different problem.  That usually calls for a nice pot of tea and some contemplation.  Before the tea is either gone or cold, I've usually come up with a rewording that works.

I highly suggest peppermint tea.  It opens the sinuses and makes it easier for the thoughts to get through the old brain pan.

Just thought I'd share something positive - and I apologize for the rant yesterday.

Right after my rant about the person who told me their dog could photoshop better than the pro I hired, I saw that Zelda Williams has removed herself from social media for a time because of haters.  It's truly sad that people hide behind their computer screens to lash out at others who are trying to make a better world.  So very sad that there are people who have to make themselves feel superior by cutting others down....

Everyone's a critic....

I posted a mock-up of the cover that included the possible title, which still needs to be adjusted size wise and color wise, but shows the font the art director is thinking will work quite nicely.  We were expecting some comments on whether or not that font will work against the background....

Here is what I posted:

*sighing because OBVIOUSLY there are Photoshop professionals out there who are OFFENDED by this cover because I can't afford a location shoot*

Okay folks.  SINCE you don't seem to understand this any other way:

1)  There are all kinds of stories recently about authors who are making thousands of dollars each month from romance ebook sales.  These are people whose books have BEEN in a bookstore, and therefore they can put on their cover "New York Times Best Selling Author", because the New York Times puts you on their list if you can get your books picked up by book stores, thereby having book sales in places OTHER THAN on Amazon.  (And, since the bookstore sales are low, it's becoming easier and easier to get onto that New York Times list PROVIDED you can get a bookstore to buy your book and put it onto their shelves.)

2)  I AM NOT one of those authors who is making thousands.  In fact, if I break a single thousand in sales this year, I will be EXTREMELY impressed.  As such, my budget allowed me to pay for the models and the photographer, who was able to use a little Photoshop magic to make it look like Daniel Sobieray and Patrice Garza were on an Italian street for this photo instead of in David Wagner's studio in Los Angeles.  I get offended when you put down David Wagner's efforts - ESPECIALLY as I can't even think about doing what he did for me.  If you're such a Photoshop pro that you feel the right to put someone else's work down, then show me how it SHOULD look!  If you can't make it look better than the 3D effect I saw when I printed this off in a 5x8 size on cover stock with the inks that the print shop will be using, GO FOR IT - but DON'T be giving me this "you can do better" bull unless you're the one who is footing the bill for this.

In my personal opinion, the only way this would have looked better would have been if I could have paid for the tickets to send Daniel, Patrice and David to Italy to do a location shoot....but I don't have the budget, so quit your whining or show me that I should hire YOU next time.......

3)  The comments should be on the TITLE at this point!  If you didn't pay attention to the multiple cover options over the past several months that we've been working on it, I don't want your belated opinions that are indicating that I should have spent my money elsewhere!  Maybe next time, when I'm asking for a photographer and models for my newest project, YOU SHOULD SUGGEST THAT YOU'RE THE EXPERT AND I SHOULD HIRE YOU!  (And, by the way, I'll be expecting YOUR covers for a redo of "Night of the Tiger" and "The Tiger's Cub", as I no longer have the publisher who is going to "cheapen down" all my hard work.  If you come up with a great idea and can show me that YOU are the expert I need to hire, I'll get the money into my budget to afford YOUR services.)

In short, if you weren't paying attention when I was asking your opinion on the backgrounds and you aren't going to demonstrate your argument by showing me what YOU can do, PLEASE follow the advice of Bambi's little friend, Thumper:

"IF YOU CAN'T SAY SOMETHING NICE (or at least, creatively constructive with proof that you can correct the problem you're pointing out), DON'T SAY NOTHING AT ALL"

Gypsies, tramps and thieves

My husband bought a laptop not too long ago, and Bill Gates' newest thing is to make you have a Microsoft email account that you have to sign into before you can use the newest Windows product.  Since the only account my hubby had was a Hotmail, it was used on the new laptop.  When he clicks the "mail" button on the Windows 8 start screen, it's SUPPOSED to bring him to his Hotmail account and let him see his new emails.

He doesn't use his laptop much because Lenovo seems to have a problem with not shutting itself off when the user is busily checking emails, surfing the web - and even in the middle of typing, as I discovered when trying to help him out by going through his settings to make it stop shutting itself off randomly.  (He's been an HVAC Technician for almost 30 years, but he rarely uses a computer, so I'm more of a geek than he is.  We have a little joke about me being his IT Tech here in our house.....)

SOMEHOW, even with as seldom as he uses it, Hotmail has decided he's having a security issue, and it keeps insisting that it needs to send him a security code so that he can retrieve his emails on his laptop.  (He can access the same email account from my laptop, from our desktop, from his phone, but Lenovo and Microsoft seem to have teamed up to have this "security issue" for him, making him miss a lot of important emails when he tries to check it on his laptop.)  The only problem with them sending him a security code is that they INSIST they have to send it to an email for our former internet provider, which we can no longer access, and that it can't be done RIGHT NOW - it has to happen in a month!

This little minion from Despicable Me has my reaction to that:

http://youtu.be/v0245xP_HVk

So I try to help him out by getting onto the phone with Microsoft.  It was like one of those scenes from a comedy routine, as the man I get on the phone has a very heavy accent and a middle eastern name, and while I'm trying to get them to just help me remove the defunct email account so that his "security code" can go to an email he can actually access, this guy is showing me a bunch of errors in which the Microsoft programs that are supposed to be running in the background are shutting down.  Funny thing, but my Dell laptop has the same programs shutting down in the background.

Of course, this ISN'T a Microsoft issue.  It must be something we're doing on the laptops.  Microsoft, according to every tech from Microsoft I've ever spoken to DOESN'T program in things to fail on system A so that, in a couple of years when they come out with system B, you will go out an buy it to get rid of the issues you've been having with system A.

Of course not.  That's why every IT tech at every company I've ever worked for can tell me exactly which spots Microsoft programmers have programmed to fail.

Needless to say, in order to get rid of this security problem and have the computers "fixed" for the next year, it's going to cost us money.  They can't just correct the email address on the account to allow a security code to be mailed to a functioning email address next month to allow my husband to access his account and actually get the emails that his friends and customers send him.

Do I need to post the minion link again to illustrate my reaction to the amount of money it's going to take for this?

Suffice to say that we aren't rolling in cash.  In fact, after the transmission fiasco with Chevrolet, we're trying to get my husband into a new truck, which means that in the next 6 years, we're going to have even less cash than we have right now.  We're going to be among those die-hards that still have Windows 8 on our computers when Microsoft decides they're no longer going to support Windows 8 because we aren't going to be able to afford all the "upgraded packages" that they'll come up with to fix the inherent problems with Windows 8.  (For that matter, I'll probably still be using the Windows 7 on my Dell laptop, as I can't even afford to put an office program on the desktop we had to replace because it was still running Windows XP and didn't have the memory functions to upgrade to 8, so I can't even do my writing on my desktop computer at the moment.)

SO glad that Bill Gates thinks everyone in America is just sitting on a stack of cash to pay him for this crap he keeps putting out......

*rolling my eyes so hard that I just found where that pea went that I stuck in my nose when I was 3*

Something I keep saying to myself: "I'm getting too old for this!"

I keep trying to remind myself on days like this that I'm only 53.  After 6 days in a row of doing what is called "throwing load" (otherwise known as breaking down pallets on which the product we need to sell comes in), my body is trying to insist I'm 153.

I've bruised like a peach for as long as I can remember, so I'm not at all surprised at the bruises that grace my forearms from the boxes that slipped as I was trying to hoist them onto the conveyances to bring them out onto the selling floor.  What bothers me is the aches in parts that I thought I'd been building up over the past year.

Ten extra hours ages my muscles by 100 years?

Heaven help me if I ever get another full time job that needs me to be hoisting things around.  I'm sure to feel 300 before retirement at this rate.