Stop! You’re Hurting My Eyes!

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By Lois Winston

One day when my oldest son was two years old, I was singing to him in the car when he covered his ears with his hands and cried, “Stop singing, Mommy. You’re hurting my ears.”

It turns out he was born with perfect pitch, while I was saddled with two tin ears. Ever since I failed to make the cut when I auditioned for the elementary school talent show, I’ve known my singing leaves quite a lot to be desired. I’m no Taylor Swift or Beyonce. Never was and never will be. I wouldn’t even qualify as a backup singer for a third-rate tribute band. However, I never realized until that moment just how off-key I was.

Lately, I’ve felt the urge to rant at car manufacturers for hurting my eyes the way my singing had hurt my son’s ears. Have you noticed the garish colors of so many new cars? Some are the equivalent of chalk on a blackboard, shrieking and shrill, while others can only be described as homages to the scatological. What were they thinking? We’re living in a world that bombards us 24/7, causing us to yearn for anything soothing, whether it’s soft clothing, comfort foods, or escapist fiction.

The psychology of color is big business. Color experts get paid big bucks to determine which colors should be used in everything from clothing to home décor to appliances to automobiles. If you’re old enough to remember the sixties (or have a penchant for anything mid-century modern), you know that harvest gold and avocado green were the two colors that reigned supreme back then. Do you think it was a coincidence that your mother’s appliances matched your father’s station wagon? Those color choices were dictated by people deemed authorities in the field.

Has psychology done an about-face? If the screaming oranges, greens, and yellows aren’t bad enough, the other group is awful in another way. I really don’t want to drive around in a vehicle that reminds me of the last time I changed a diaper or hovered over the porcelain throne with stomach flu.

I wish some knowledgeable person would tell me what in the world were these so-called experts thinking. I’m flummoxed.

How about you? What do you think about the colors of automobiles you see on the roads lately? Post a comment for a chance to win a promo code for a free download of the audiobook version of Drop Dead Ornaments, the seventh Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery.

 

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Learn more about Lois and her books at her website www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.

Reflections on the Passing of Time

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Reflections on the Passing of Time by Debra H. Goldstein

Despite the temperatures being in the high 80’s and 90’s for the past few weeks, we’ve had just enough of a temperature drop that the leaves are beginning to change colors. It’s a sign of Autumn. The calendar even says Fall has begun. The big tell is that the grocery stores already are prominently displaying Halloween candies.

Personally, I don’t know where the summer went. It feels like I just pulled my white pants from the back of my closet and now it’s time to push them to the back again.

When I was a child, I remember being sent outside to play (I preferred staying inside and reading) and counting the minutes until I could go in again. Time moved so slowly. Yet, one day I woke up and it started whizzing by. For the first time, as this summer has flown by and I see changes in my husband, me, our children, grandchildren, and friends, I’m beginning to think of time as precious – and maybe going by a little too quickly.

Do you ever have thoughts like that?

Process Delayed Can Still be Progress…of a Sort

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By Lois Winston

I’m not someone who immediately jumps into the next book as soon as I finish writing the previous one. My latest Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery, A Crafty Collage of Crime, released on June 6th. Other than promotional blog posts, I haven’t written anything Anastasia-related since then. Haven’t even given much thought to the next book beyond the fact that I know I’ll be picking up Anastasia’s story shortly after the recent book ended.

It’s not that I’m tired of writing about my reluctant sleuth or have no ideas. It’s more about a process I’ve found that works best for me. After a book goes off into the world, I devote the next month or so to promotion. Once the flurry of promotion wanes, I give myself permission to clear my head before once again hitting the keyboard in earnest. We all have our process, and I’ve discovered over the years that this keeps me from burning out or developing terminal writer’s block. We all need the occasional vacay, even if it’s only a vacay from the keyboard.

With that in mind, I had set a schedule to start in on serious pondering, mulling, and research the week of August 21st, the day after the Killer Nashville writers’ conference ended. I’d plant butt in chair and fingers on keyboard in earnest September 5th, the day after Labor Day.

Of course, I didn’t factor into testing positive for Covid shortly after Killer Nashville ended. And I certainly didn’t factor in the far from mild case of Covid that broadsided me and still continues haunting me with lingering symptoms. I haven’t felt this tired since suffering through mono when I was nineteen or dealing with an infant who exited the womb never needing to sleep—ever!

About the only things I’ve been able to accomplish when not napping are watching TV and reading, more of the latter than the former, thanks to the writers’ strike and the absence of many of my favorite shows. For someone who has never been a napper, I’m beginning to suspect I harbor some cat DNA. Don’t they sleep about seventeen hours a day?

At least during my daily seven hours of wakefulness, I was able to make a decent dent in my overflowing Kindle virtual TBR pile. For someone used to juggling multiple balls, if nothing else, I’ve achieved a small sense of accomplishment during my illness and recovery.

Not every book I read is worth mentioning. Several fell way short of expectations. However, there were two books that I thoroughly enjoyed: The Book Woman’s Daughter, the follow-up to Kim Michele Rchardson’s The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek, and Kopp Sisters on the March, book 5 in Amy Stewart’s Kopp Sisters series. However, if you’ve enjoyed the other Kopp Sisters books, be forewarned that this book is a bit of a departure from the previous books in the series. Although labeled as a mystery, the mystery element is a minor subplot.

One of the perks of being a published author is getting to read some books before they hit bookstore shelves. I had the absolute pleasure of losing myself in advance reading copies of two books that I highly recommend. If you enjoy women’s fiction, you won’t want to miss the recently released Picture Perfect Autumn by Shelley Noble. It truly is a picture-perfect novel.

If romantic amateur sleuth mysteries are more your speed, you’ll want to read The Body in the News, the third installment in the Samantha Newman Mysteries by The Stiletto Gang’s own Gay Yellen. I was hooked on this series after reading the first book. When I finished this newest addition, I wanted to pick up the fourth book right away. I hope Gay is a fast writer!

What about you? Read any good books lately? Post a comment for a chance to win a promo code for a free download of the audiobook version of Scrapbook of Mystery, the sixth Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery.

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USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Learn more about Lois and her books at her website www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.

My Rare Pink Rocks

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By Barbara J. Eikmeier

For many years I collected sea glass. I filled a small jar with pieces from beaches in Hawaii and California. It took a long time to fill my jar. Imagine my surprise when my sister took me to Glass Beach in Fort Bragg, California. I felt like there was more glass than sand on that beach. It made my humble collection look, well, humble.

In my yard in Eastern Kansas sit two pink boulders and several lesser boulders. They were excavated when the house was built in 1992. They are probably rose quartz although I hear people call them pink granite (mine don’t look like granite.) They are unique to my area of Kansas, and I see them in neighbors’ yards too. I’m not a native Kansan but have been told these pink rocks were a gift from Minnesota, brought down during the ice age. When the ice receded, the big rocks were left behind.

Visitors from out of the area have been known to covet my pink rocks, in fact at least two visitors collected smaller samples from my property to take home with them.

When the utility company trenched across our yard to replace a gas line, they unearthed more pink rocks. The evening before the trench was to be filled in, I claimed those pink rocks. With my husband’s help we rolled the biggest and pinkest of them down the hill, laughing all the way, to the spot where the driveway leveled out. Then we got our piano mover, which is not really a piano mover, but it works like one, (I bought it at an estate sale for fifty cents!) We rolled those big rocks onto that platform and wheeled them to select locations in the gardens. The new rocks are a fraction the size of my big pink boulders, but they still weighed a ton!

I’ve been basking in the glory of owning such rare and special rocks for years.

I’m writing this post while on a road trip with my husband. We spent two days in South Dakota where pink rocks are everywhere.  Apparently, my pink rocks may have been a gift from South Dakota instead of Minnesota.

Near Sioux Falls, South Dakota there is a huge quarry with a giant heap of pink rocks.

Further west I noticed them used for landscaping at rest stops along Interstate 90. Heck, in some sections, Interstate 90 itself glows pink because it’s made of crushed pink stone mixed with the asphalt. When we stopped, I checked. I could see the bits of pink rock.

The driveway in the campground we stayed at was made of crushed pink rock. I picked up two heart shaped stones for my granddaughter. I stopped at two, but I could have found 100, all pink, all heart shaped!

And the greatest shock of all, to me anyway, was pink rocks on the edges of the train tracks.

It feels like Glass Beach all over again!

Have you ever discovered that your rare collection isn’t so rare after all?

Barbara J. Eikmeier is a quilter, writer, student of quilt history, and lover of small-town America. Raised on a dairy farm in California, she enjoys placing her characters in rural communities.

RIP, Mac

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By Lois Winston

Sometimes, there are no warning signs, no odd symptoms that crop up which would make us suspect something is not quite right. Such was not the case with Mac. Nothing made me question his health, nothing that would lead me to seek out the services of an expert. One moment, he was fine; the next he wasn’t. Worse yet, he failed to respond to all my efforts to make him well.

This all happened three weeks ago. Mac and I had been in a deeply committed relationship for ten years. I wasn’t ready to let him go. So I picked up the phone and scheduled an appointment for a full diagnostic workup. Surely, whatever the problem, something would make him better.

After arriving, I was asked about his prior symptoms. When I said he’d had none, the diagnostician showed surprise. She rattled off a series of the usual suspects, to which I answered in the negative for each one. She shook her head in disbelief. I suspect she thought I was too ignorant to recognize obvious signs of impending illness. I ignored her condescension. I needed her expertise to heal Mac.

When I asked what she thought might be the problem, she offered possible afflictions, some with remedies but others that were fatal. I crossed my fingers as she spent the next hour and a half performing a litany of tests to determine why Mac had suddenly become comatose.

The test results confirmed my worst fears. Mac had suffered a catastrophic failure. Both his hard drive and battery were dead.

I think the ratio of computer years to human years must be greater than that of dog years to human years. However, even if it’s the same, that would have made Mac seventy years old. Ancient as far as my millennial diagnostician was concerned, but I’m at the stage of my life where I no longer consider seventy old. Still, I suppose ten years is considered ancient for a computer, even one as stalwart as Mac had been.

Mac had served me well. During our time together, we’d written nine novels, five novellas, several short stories, one nonfiction book, and countless blog posts. We’d edited two multi-author promotional charity cookbooks and two multi-author box sets.

However, it was time to lay Mac to rest, sending him off to the big Apple in the sky. RIP, Mac. But really, after all we’ve been through together, he couldn’t have died a day earlier before the weekend state sales tax holiday ended?

Scrapbook of Murder, the sixth book in my Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Series, is now available as an audiobook. Post a comment for a chance to win a promo code for a free download.

~*~

USA Today and Amazon bestselling and award-winning author Lois Winston writes mystery, romance, romantic suspense, chick lit, women’s fiction, children’s chapter books, and nonfiction under her own name and her Emma Carlyle pen name. Kirkus Reviews dubbed her critically acclaimed Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series, “North Jersey’s more mature answer to Stephanie Plum.” In addition, Lois is a former literary agent and an award-winning craft and needlework designer who often draws much of her source material for both her characters and plots from her experiences in the crafts industry. Learn more about Lois and her books at her website www.loiswinston.com where you can also sign up for her newsletter and follow her on various social media sites.

Grab a Hotdog!

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Happy 4th of July to Everyone!

I was 25 years old, the mother of a precious five-year-old son, and I did not hold a college degree when I crossed the southern border to live in the US. I was leaving a really bad marriage in Mexico and starting a new life for my son and myself in the US.

I held dual Mexican and American citizenship because I had been born in Texas. My parents lived in rural Mexico, an area without doctors, clinics, or hospitals, so my mother came to the US to deliver me and my siblings. My parents returned home a week after my birth.

Despite being born in Texas, I had never lived in the US. For this reason, I could not automatically bring my son to live here.

So why did I persist and get my three-year-old son accepted as a legal immigrant?

Opportunity!

The decision to leave my country of origin was heart wrenching. Yet I recognized that it would have been nearly impossible for me to find a job in Mexico to support us. Even more challenging would have been to hold a job and to attend a university at the same time.

US immigration laws that were on the books at that time were fully enforced. Consequently, I signed documents stating that my son and I would be deported if I accepted any public housing, food assistance, or any other type of government assistance. For five years, … I had to keep Immigration informed on where I lived and where I worked because my young son was an immigrant. At the end of five years, my son was granted US citizenship.

As much as I love my Mexican heritage, traditions, culture, and the nation’s amazing history, I have never regretted moving to this country. The first ten years were extremely difficult, yet I’ve seen my son grow into a fine man, I’ve acquired an education, I became both a CPA and a certified management accountant, and I worked in international finance for a major multinational corporation. In addition, my international finance career gave me the benefit of travelling the globe. After two decades in international finance, I took an early retirement. And now I have a fun job – I write fiction!

If I had to do it again, would I?

Absolutely! There’s no other country in the world that provides the opportunities that are available here if we choose to work toward achieving something. I love this country!

Happy 4th of July! Let’s grab a hotdog!

***

The 4th of July is a family holiday, regardless of ethnicity. How did you spend yours?

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Kathryn Lane writes mystery and suspense novels set in foreign countries. In her award-winning Nikki Garcia Mystery Series, her protagonist is a private investigator currently based in Miami. Her latest publication is a coming-of-age story, Stolen Diary, about a socially awkward math genius.

Kathryn’s own early work life started out as a painter in oils. To earn a living, she became a certified public accountant and embarked on a career in international finance with Johnson & Johnson.

Two decades later, she left the corporate world to create mystery and suspense thrillers, drawing inspiration from her Mexican background as well as her travels in over ninety countries.

Most summer months, Kathryn and her husband, Bob Hurt, escape to the mountains of northern New Mexico to avoid the Texas heat.

Storm Chasers

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By Barbara J Eikmeier

Living in Kansas goes hand in hand with spring storms – usually wind and rain, dramatic thunder, sometimes accompanied by hail, and less often, an actual tornado.

On occasion we will see storm chasers on the highway, heading toward the dark spot on the horizon – traveling toward that which we are fleeing. Some are storm chaser hobbyists with personalized license plates: STRM CHSR. Others are meteorologists in official capacity traveling in vans with TV station logos and high-tech gear mounted on top.

In fifteen years in my current home, we’ve had a few hailstorms roll over our property, the most dramatic being April of 2023 when 1 ¼” hailstones pummeled the house depositing a large cluster of hailstones in a pile near the front door. We discovered them the next morning. It looked as if someone had emptied an ice chest there during the night.

Hailstones 12 hours later

It was a curious sight for sure, but the hailstones melted, and we went about our life without another thought. Until the day two young men pulled in the driveway in a tan truck and rang the doorbell. From the kitchen window I watched them approach the porch – their short hair neatly combed, their shirts tucked in, a sheaf of papers in their hands. I was sure they were evangelists. I was wrong. They were storm chasers of another type.

“We’re in the neighborhood giving free roof estimates.”

When I told them I thought my roof was fine, the dark-haired guy asked, “Has someone been up on the roof to check for damage from the April hailstorm?”

He had me at “damage”. Now I wanted to know, was my roof damaged?

They were polite, professional and they had done their homework. They knew my house was in the direct path of the eye of that April hailstorm. They knew the direction it had come from, the size of the hailstones reported in my area and, before climbing onto my roof, they knew they would find damage. They were storm chasers, following the path of the storm.

I have had phone calls from companies offering free roof inspections in the past. I always thought it was peculiar – cold calling to replace worn out roofs. Now I understand, sitting here writing under my new roof, there’s nothing random about it.

Initially, I felt like an irresponsible homeowner for not knowing the amount of damage my home had suffered. For not understanding a claim to the insurance company has an expiration date relative to the date of the storm. For declining all those “free estimate” phone offers. What it took was those young men working the old-fashioned way, ringing doorbells.

If you’re looking for an unusual job for your character and a storm chaser would be perfect for your scenario, consider taking it beyond the storm and make your storm chaser work for a roofing company!

Have you ever given your character a job that begins after the main event?

Barbara J. Eikmeier is a quilter, writer, student of quilt history, and lover of small-town America. Raised on a dairy farm in California, she enjoys placing her characters in rural communities.

Life Changes and the Life Cycle

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Life Changes and the Life Cycle by Debra H. Goldstein

Lately, my life has been taking a 360 degree turn-around. Some of the changes are wonderful; others, not so much. Any way I look at it, it is quite a ride.

Not only did I pass a special birthday with a month long friends and family celebration, but we’ll be doing it again because this is a special birthday for my husband and anniversary for us. In the past, when we had these five year milestones, I’d throw a big bash. One year, it was taking friends and family to a basketball game, another year was a baseball game where my husband got to throw out the first pitch, and there was the Mexican food with a wild band playing event. For a few years, we celebrated by traveling to far-away-places with a couple we adored, but knew their health issues would limit our time as friends —- we were able to visit Italy, China, and the beach with them — good memories of good people. Perhaps, the best celebration though, was an open house we threw that not only celebrated our milestones, but commemorated the twins graduating high school and introduced our local world to our first grandson, who was three months old.

This year, other than the whirlwind month I’ve just had, we’ve opted to keep things low key and family oriented. The special highlight that we’ll all remember happens tomorrow: our sixth grandchild, the second boy, is coming to town to have his first haircut done by the same person who gave his mother her first haircut. A life cycle event.

Do you have little things like this that reinforce the concept of the life cycle for you?