It's Resolution Time!

 

Happy New Year Everyone!

Well, it's not quite 2022.  The frenzy of Christmas and other holidays is pretty much over. Traditionally, many people party hard on December 31, ringing in the new year with drinking and noise, as if trying to drown out the old year and kicking open the door to something new and better.

Normally I'd be posting my resolution report card, grading myself on how I did on those promises I made to myself and the world last year.  Well, if you recall, I didn't do that.  Thusly, no grading this year. We all pass!  YAY!

Friends, I'm convinced 2022 is going to be better than her older sisters, 2021, and that hag, 2020.  But it's going to take all of us working together to make it so. This is beyond the usual "lose weight/stop spending money I don't have" usual stuff.  We need to put some work into ourselves and each other. Therefore, here are my resolutions for 2022:

1)  Continue working the #Noomweightloss program; and share it with others so they can see the amazing health benefits by simply understanding our relationship with food. (I'm down 30 pounds since May and while I haven't lost any measurable weight in the last two months, I haven't gained anything either, which, during the holidays, is amazing.  The plan works, my friends.) 

2) Enjoy drinking coffee black. Since I have an issue with dairy, and I have yet to find a non-dairy coffee creamer that's worth the red calories, I've started just drinking it black.  I'm not quite there yet, but it's a step.  I'm pretty sure Peaches will respect me more!

3) Learn to empathize, not apologize.  This is big for me. I apologize for literally everything.  I say, "I'm sorry," more than I say anything else on any given day.  I have to learn I'm not to blame for every ache and pain.  Hubby will be happier with me if I stop apologizing for everything every minute of the day!

4) Help without smothering.  Skippy and Peaches will both cheer at this one. I do tend to overdo it when I sense someone needs a bit of help.

5) Educate myself about those who are different from me.  It's a big world out there.  Not everyone looks, thinks, loves, or worships the same way I do.  And everyone is dealing with a multitude of challenges about which I know nothing.  I want to learn so I can reach out and be a helpful, friendly, loving person without causing offense or hurting someone's feelings.

6)  Finish the darn book!  (Oh, you knew that one was coming.)  I did not make writing a big priority in 2021...it needs to be this year. I have plans, big plans, for the next phase of my writing career.

In conclusion, Happy New Year everyone.  Be safe tonight.  Be smart.  

And hey, it's okay if we don't fully realize our resolutions this year.  

But I think, if we are good to each other, if we are kind, if we smile instead of frown, cheer instead of jeer, and help each other up instead of pushing each other down, we are going to be okay. We don't have to agree with each other. We don't even have to understand each other completely.  All we have to do is be respectful. Be kind. 

(One of my favorite Bible passages. I'm sure other religions have a similar command in their holy books.  I would love to hear them!)

And with that, my friends and readers, I close out 2021.  Here's to 2022...may she suck less and make us laugh more that her older sisters!

Target Cashier's response sums up modern life in one word.

 

It's Christmas Week! WHOO HOO!  Have you lost your mind yet?

I'm going to just say it: Here at the Bradley house, it's a super chill (rare) moment of peace.  Gifts...wrapped and under the tree.  Cards...being mailed as we speak.  (No talk of "Epiphany cards" that turn into "easter Cards" that turn into "Oh whatever.")  Cookies...baked, AND DECORATED and ready to roll!  

Now, no, I did not do all this myself. Nope, this was a team effort, but despite Covid (Tom and Peaches) and an emergency appendectomy (Peaches) and Nanowrimo (me) and everything that goes into plotting world domination (Which is what I picture Skippy doing in his citadel of silence, ie. the basement), we got it done!  Oh, and through in the fact that Peaches finished her associates degree and had a GRADUATION a couple weeks ago...yeah, we did good this year!

All that's left for the Bradley home is to enjoy a Christmas Eve service at The Bridge at St. Paul's (Check it out livestreaming on 12-24 at noon CST), come home, watch Krampus, do a shot of absinthe at midnight and then enjoy a wonderful Christmas morning together in peace and harmony.

Or something like that.

Now, does that mean this whole holiday season is about to go off without some sort of drama or hilarity or both? 

Well, of course not. 

I still have to leave my house for things, right? I still have to go DO things around PEOPLE whether I want to or not.

Case in point, my most recent trip to Target.

We've had some funky weather here in SE Wisconsin the last week.  It's been warm. It's been humid. And it's been WINDY!  So windy that a couple days ago we had some serious power outages in the area. that included my local Sam's Club (on a day I had to HAD to pick up THE MED for Skippy.) and my local Target store.

Now, believe it or not, and contrary to what you've read here over the years, I am a pretty laid back person.  Sure, standing in endless lines when it's 100 degrees in the store and I'm wearing a winter coat because it's 4 outside and the guy in front of me is arguing about a 16 cent rise in cost to his DOG'S prescription (true story.  That happened.) yes, I'm going to get a little twitchy. But come on.  I think I handle the foibles and frustrations of modern life with a sense of grace and goodwill.

Or something like that.

To prove this point, let's talk about my recent trip to Target. It came on the heels of a session in Physical Therapy. (Because of that fall I took back in September when I tripped over Peaches' flip flop while she was wearing it. I'm now in PT.)  and a trip to Sam's to get THE MED for Skippy, which is always fun.  I had to get home quickly to de-cat my house as much as possible because my parents were coming over!

(It should be noted my parents haven't come to my house, even though we live half an hour apart, in two years.  My father claims cat allergies.  It's a whole thing, and believe me, I'm in brain therapy for it. LOL)  

Anyway, I was under a little pressure and I wanted some festive Hershey Kisses to brighten my snack table for when my parents (who I literally see twice a week for stuff, but whatever) came over to my house.

Sam's Club candy aisle was really picked over.  So off to Target we go.

Now, the store had just gotten their power back, so the coolers were still being restocked with the stuff they moved....what, outside?  I don't know. What does Target do with their dairy and hotdogs when the coolers don't work?  Doesn't matter. I wasn't there for anything refrigerated. I wanted one thing and one thing only. Plain Hershey Kisses.

I headed right to the back of the store where they keep the seasonal stuff. 

It looked...well, you know that scene in "The Grinch" where it's a shot of Whooville after the Grinch has been through?  It looked a lot like that.

Nevertheless, there were plenty of packages on the aisle, a whole aisle, dedicated to Hershey kisses.  So I got into that aisle, eager to pick up a couple bags and get out quickly.

There was not one single bag of plain kisses in that aisle.  Not one.

There was almond. There was Hot Cocoa. There was something called "Cordial."  Oh, and there was that white chocolate one with the red stripes which is super gross and I won't have it in my house.

But no plain.

Well, I had things to do and cats to herd, so I picked up a mixed assortment and headed to the checkout counter.

I refuse to use self check, BTW.  It's not nearly as funny as interacting with a human.

So I get up to cashier, a tiny little infant of a girl who says, "Did you find everything okay?"

Normally I just say, "Yes," and move on with my life. But come on. Target was OUT of plain Hershey Kisses. This is an odd thing!  Did it have to do with the power outage?  Were the employees being paid in kisses? Are the plain kisses made in China and stuck on a boat outside of Los Angeles????

"No," says I, "You are completely out of plain Hershey Kisses."

The young woodland creature of a cashier looks at me and says, "really?"  She looks at the kisses display at the end of the aisle. "Wow, there aren't any there either.  Huh."

"Yes, indeed," say I.

"And you're out of chili sauce!" calls the woman behind me.    

Not sure why she's horning in on my check out time, but whatever. This counts as a conversation with more than one person, right? I can go back to my couch and be quiet for the rest of the day, right?

The darling little foundling of a cashier looks at the lady behind me and says, "oh yeah?" with wonder in her voice.

I look at the woman, who looks at me.  The cashier looks at both of us.  And then she sums it up for us.

"Weird."

There you have it, my friends.  

Oh, and stay weird, my friends. Because that's what we're doing now, I guess!

That's One Way to Get my Steps in!

 

Good day to all of you out there!

To those of you who celebrate Christmas:  Merry Christmas and get shopping! LOL

To those of you who celebrate Hanukkah: Happy Hanukkah!

To those of you who celebrate something else: Happy Holidays and the Best Season's Greetings!

Okay, so this year for my birthday I got a gift card to Kohls from my dear mother-in-law. She's been very supportive through my weight loss journey (down 27 pounds since May, thank you #Noom!  And now, I'm not on Dr. Now's diet because, well, I like food! LOL)

Anyway, she got me the gift card because she wanted me to get some new clothes for my new size, which I did. I found a really nifty pair of smaller sized jeans.  But, since it's Kohl's, they were on clearance plus I had a coupon plus there was another discount which meant I had money on the GC for something else.

I'm really not in need of anything that much, but I figured a new purse would be nice. I've been using the same two purses for years. One I got at St. Vincent de Paul and it's big and bulky and heavy. The other one is a touch too small for everything I need to carry around, plus it's getting old too.

So, I bought a purse. A nice, stylish, moderately large purse.  And then I put my stuff in it.

And now it weighs about fifty pounds.

Don't believe me, ask my friend, Buttercup!  She hefted it recently while we were waiting in line to get our CDs signed by everyone at the Bob and Brian Show.  (It's something we do every year. Not sure what it is, or who Bob and Brian are?  Click on the link or read past posts on this blog!  LOL)   

Anyway, so, what I'm saying is, my purse is heavy.

 I've emptied that thing half a dozen times, trimmed down what's in it, and it still weighs a ton.  And I've only had it a few weeks.

Well, I like it, so I'll live with it. 

Or that's what I thought...until yesterday.  

See, I have this really organized wallet. It's pink, it's cute, it holds all my cards and whatever stray cash I might actually have and then it's in the purse all nice and ready to go.

The problem, as it usually is, is with me. When I use a card at a store, I rarely, if ever, put it back in the wallet.  Half the time I put the card in a little open side pocket that's really there to hold a phone or gum or maybe a packet of tissues.  NOT a tiny little credit/debit card.  Half the time I just drop it in the purse, which, as we've established, is large and full of mystery stuff.

So yesterday I was returning from a trip to the grocery store, and it doesn't really matter which one, where I used my debit card.  I also used the self-check which is kind of a high stress situation for me.  I don't respond well to machines, I tend to yell at them. If my phone rings, I yell at it.  If my alarm clock on my phone goes off, I mentally yell at it.  I talk to my car all the time.  Most of the time, if Hubby or one of the kids isn't sure whom I'm yelling at, I'll say I'm talking to the cats. In reality, I'm probably yelling at a machine.

So it is with self-check.  That creepy automated voice makes me angry.  And that's what happened yesterday. I bought three things, all of which were tiny and light weight. I scanned them and put them in the bagging area.

And Creepy Automated Voice (CAV) said, "Put item in bagging area."

"I did put the item in the bagging area."

CAV:  Put item in the bagging area.

Sarah: I DID PUT THE ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA.

CAV: Put item in the bagging area.

Sarah (picking up the item and slamming it on the bagging area: THERE NOW IT'S IN THE BAGGING AREA YOU #%#%&.  

This conversation continued for all three items.

By the time I was done, I was sweating, angry, and quite possibly banned from the grocery store.  (On a side note, I should mention that with the influx of self-check machines in stores there's also been an influx of "out of order" signs for self-check machines. something to think about.)

What this means is that my debit card was simply dumped into the pit of despair...I mean, my purse.

When I got home, I opened the car door and grabbed my purse, which was on the passenger seat next to me.  (I know, I know.  I'm not supposed to put it there because robbers and whatnot.)  In grabbing the strap, the purse itself, which was unzipped and open, caught on the parking brake bar and upended, dumping untold items of varying sizes and weights in the tiny space between the seats and the parking brake.

Sigh.

I gathered up what I could and stuffed it back into my purse and then went about the rest of my day.

That's not the end of the story.

Of course it isn't.

Later in the day I had to go to my first physical therapy session. Yes, this is for treatment on the knee I injured back in SEPTEMBER when I fell at Sam's Club. And yes, I know it's December.  I thought it would get better by itself. Then it didn't. Then it was NANOWRIMO. Then we had Covid in the House. Then it was Thanksgiving. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

Anyway...

Before heading out to the therapy place (and believe me, there will be blogs about that) I figured I should make sure I had everything I needed. Bottle of water. Mask.  Debit card just in case there was some weird charge I didn't know about.

Debit card.   Hmmmmmm....where is that?  Not in my wallet. Not in the purse.  Not in my pants pocket.  I head outside to double check the car. I look under the seats. Nope. I look around the floor mats. Nope.  I look under the seats again.

I go back in the house. I check all the usual place where I drop stuff: my desk. The kitchen counter.  The end table on my end of the couch. The bathroom magazine basket.  (Shut up. It's where I find my phone half the time.)

Oh yeah, I'm racking up the steps!  

I then check the car again.  I check the kitchen again. I look in all the pockets of my new purse AGAIN.  Nothing.

I'm about to call my back when I decide to check the wallet one more time. And there...tucked nicely in its normal spot, right behind the Kwik Trip card...my debit card.

                                                                                                            

Sharing a fan favorite post: 22 hours, 5 states, an over-affectionate hockey fan, and finally finding the perfect restroom.

 

(This is a repost from a couple years ago because I'm in the final stages of #Nanowrimo and I can't find the will to write a new blog!  Enjoy!)

Hello all!

If you are celebrating Thanksgiving this week then Happy Thanksgiving!  

In the US this is the official kick off to the holiday season and we've gotten a bit crazy with the shopping. I mean, Black Friday should mean...you know...FRIDAY.  I give stores that are normally open 24 hours a pass because that's their regular schedule, but for the rest of the stores (I'm looking at YOU, Kohl's) there is no reason to make your employees miss a holiday with their families just so the rest of us can buy a discounted sweater and/or holiday ornament ten hours earlier than we would have anyway.  Black Friday should mean getting up in the dead of night, like 3 AM, grabbing a hot breakfast at your local 24 hour diner, and heading out to the stores around 4 or 5 AM on FRIDAY.  That's the way God intended it.  LOL

As for our family, we just got done last week celebrating my birthday and Skippy's with a quick trip to Detroit to see my beloved Redwings take on Skippy's beloved Tampa Bay Lightning at the historic Joe Louis Arena.  (Which they are tearing down at the end of the season.)

It was not going to be a long trip. Hubby and I, being old, planned on driving to the game Tuesday, watching the game Tuesday night, and coming home on Wednesday.  But...then Skippy said this:

"You know, we could just drive home after the game. Then you'd have a whole vacation day off instead of being in the car.  I do that drive all the time. It's a piece of cake."

Now, that might seem like a crazy idea, but after thinking about it and doing the math, we realized that yes, if the game got out at 10:30 Detroit time and we hit the road right away, we'd be home really no later than 4:30 Wisconsin time, allowing for stops and what not.  Skippy could do the bulk of the night driving and I would sleep in the back seat.

With this brilliant plan in place, we left for Detroit.  (Peaches opted to stay home with the cats.)

A rare picture of me...and two of my favorite humans.
(I'm in the middle.)

The trip there was uneventful, as expected. We stopped once for food and made it to the Joe without incident. Well, okay, we missed the turn into the parking garage, but other than that, no problem.  We'd driven through part of four states:  Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan.  The plan was to take the same route back. It was a route we all know very, very well.

Take that, Avs fans!

Being at the Joe Louis Arena, "The Joe," is a pretty awesome experience. I mean, it's really not that much to look at. It's old.  The seats are not comfortable. There are no cup holders. And there's no leg room.

But then you look up in the rafters, where the championship banners are. There's almost no ceiling space left.  The Redwings have a long and beautiful history of championship wins and retired greats of the game.  

The game itself was a good one.  Maybe not for the guys sitting behind us, who were true Detroit fans in that every word out of their mouths was unrepeatable and they had little good to say about the home team.  Until the home team started winning at the end of the second period.

It was during the second intermission that I decided I should break one of my rules and find a bathroom.  Now, have I mentioned The Joe is old?  how old?  Let's just say that the bathroom facilities for women were not...ample.

I got at the end of a line that stretched a hundred feet into the back end of the other line for the other ladies room.  As I stepped into the line, there was a little tap on my shoulder and a blonde woman with a smoky voice said, "Don't go there, I know a better place."

Now, I realize that this is the start to many different types of fantasies and believe me, I was skeptical.  However, if I stayed in the line I would miss a good portion of the third period and I had not ridden in a car driven by someone else for six hours to stand in a line and not see the game.  So I followed the blonde.  She wove her way through the crowd to a staircase and then she vanished.  I looked at the staircase. Yes, there was a restroom at the top, but in line were probably 200 men.  I saw no women in line.

Wait...

There were no women in line.

For a restroom.  At a sporting even.

I watched as a couple women sprinted up the stairs and vanished through a concrete arch.  What did I have to lose?  So I, well I didn't sprint, but I moved pretty quickly up the stairs and at the top was a man who pointed me to a door where there were no women...

Inside...

The most glorious of all restrooms!  There were 50 stalls. I know this because they were numbered. They were clean!  The restroom smelled GREAT.  There wasn't a speck of dirt or a drop of water on the floor.  I saw steam rising out of the sinks, the promise of actual hot water!

Friends, most of you know my trials and tribulations when it comes to public restrooms. I'm here to tell you, I've found it!  I've found the absolute MECCA of ladies' rooms. It's the pinnacle of peeing!  I was in and out of there in under five minutes and there was no back up on the stairs, why?  Because there was a second door and stairs to go down.

At the bottom of this second flight of stairs I bumped into the blonde who recognized me (pink hair stands out in most crowds) and she said, "I was right, wasn't I?"  I nodded. I had no words for the magnificent loveliness she'd shared with me.

But back to the game.  

It was a good game, but the Redwings lost.  I was happy for Skippy because the Lightning won. I guess that's all part of being a mom. Anyway, as we walked out of the arena, the Hubby and Skippy decided they had to use the facilities. I would have shown them the staircase, but it would not have been as magical for them.  I told them I would park it next to the pillar next to the statue of Gordy Howe.

And now, for an "It can only happen to Sarah moment":

I stood there smiling, watching fans filter out of the building. I didn't feel crowded at all.  I was happy. This had been a great night!  And, we'd decided to take a short jaunt down to Toledo, OH, and hit a Waffle House on the way home. It wouldn't increase our drive by more than twenty minutes, the guys decided, so why not?

As I was thinking about the Waffle House menu a very, very tall Redwings fan and his buddy walked up to me.  I didn't think much of them, a lot of people brushed past me.  But this guy stopped.  He stopped and he leaned down to my face level.  Which, since he was so tall, meant all of my viewing space was full of him.

He put his arm around me like he was going in for a kiss or something.  Instead, he leaned a bit closer to my ear and said in a tender, moderately inebriated tone, "We lost.  It's a sad f---ing night."

"We did. But we're going to be okay," I responded.  I mean, what else are you going to say to that?

He seemed satisfied that we'd comforted each other and he and his buddy went on their way.

Okay then.

We drove down to Toledo (Thereby hitting our fifth state of the day) and had a lovely meal at Waffle house. I had a grits and eggs bowl.  It was fantastic. I have friends who think I'm nuts, but I love Waffle House.  

By this point it was one AM  Eastern Time.  (Game ran long, it had taken longer to walk out of the Joe than expected, and we lounged a bit at Waffle House.)

We did the math. We still thought we'd be home around 5:30 Central time.  Confident the guys had it in hand, I curled up in the back seat and tried to sleep.

And then we hit the death fog.

Death fog like I've never seen it.  We'd drive along for a couple miles at 70 and then BAM.  A while wall of no visibility for several miles.  This went on through half of Ohio and all of Indiana.  We had to stop twice in Indiana (Once at a gas station that wasn't open, but thanks to some GUY who just happened to be driving around at 3 AM, he informed us the station wasn't open and neither were the pumps, but that if we "drive up the road there a piece" we'd find all manner of open gas stations.)  We did, and by this time I was FREEZING in the back seat. Hubby and Skippy, in an effort to stay awake, had turned off the heat.  We didn't have a blanket in the car.

I'm now the proud owner of one of those silver plastic sheets, the kind they wrap accident victims up in. They sell those for $3.99 at the gas stations in Indiana.  Wrapped up in that I was warmer, and I also resembled a baked potato...or Jiffy Pop Popcorn.

By the time we hit the Illinois border, Skippy was asleep and the sun was starting to come up.  I had to be the co pilot through that last leg home.  

We pulled into our driveway and it was nearly 8 AM Central time.  the Hubs and Skippy went directly to bed.  I needed to thaw off my feet, so I took a hot shower, checked in on the conference call at my job, and then hit the couch and spent that whole lovely full vacation day...sleeping.

And so my friends, here ends my story.  The moral of the story is that I'm too old to stay up most of the night and it's going to be a long time before Hubby and I drive across Indiana and Ohio again.

With that, I wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving and remember if you are making the dessert for dinner: 

Five for Friday; Things I'm going to need during NANOWRIMO

 

Well friends, here we are. I have no idea how we got to the last week of October already and I've blogged so little this year. Well, I mean, sure, Covid hassles stopped being funny a long time ago, and let's be honest, I never did get back into my real life groove after being in lock down. I mean, who would want to go back to a rigorous schedule of exercise and writing in the afternoons where there is SO MUCH TO WATCH on streaming services?

So yeah, I'm lazy. Completely lazy.

But it's the dawn of a new November. A new stab at National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo).  Last year I managed to complete the 50,000 word challenge and the end result was publishing "Deal With a Devil." This year, I'm way behind where I wanted to be with my next work in progress, a fantasy-dark comedy-romance-internet thriller I have lovingly called "Suburban Princess" for almost twenty years when the idea of it first came into my head.  If I can get over myself and actually write the darn thing, it might be the best thing I've ever come up with.  Certainly the cover is cool!

But soon I will be locked into another Nano challenge and I've already promised this book will be published next year.  So obviously I'm going to need some stuff from you, my readers, if I'm going to really be able to buckle down and get this book out!   

5)   COFFEE, COFFEE, and MORE COFFEE.

I don't eat while I'm writing, but I do drink. A lot. And much of it is coffee!  (Okay I drink coffee a lot anyway, but when I'm planning to sit up into the wee hours of the day, I need more coffee. 

4)  WINE!

Okay, a wise person once said (or maybe it was one of my refrigerator magnets, I get those two things confused) "Write drunk. Edit sober." Friends, I am in the meat of the writing part.  Traditionally, writers have drinking problems, this we know. And the chic writer beverage has been, historically, absinthe.  However, You can only drink so much absinthe before that green fairy becomes a bit too real.  (Which is hard to do since in the US all the fun stuff that's in old timey absinthe that made one hallucinate the green fairy  is taken out!  ((stupid FDA, harshing my fun)) . So my writing adult bevvy of choice is pinot noir. I'm not fussy. Only only cheap bottle will do. Or pricey bottles.  Did I mention I'm writing a dark-comedy-romantic-fantasy-thriller?  Hot tea is NOT going to cut it!

3)  CLEANING and COOKING services.  (OR...mystery food just delivered to my door!)

Hubby is great and all, but let's face it, he works too.  And Skippy isn't one to cook or clean just for funsies.  So, the Bradley manse is going to be a big old mess since I'm planning on ignoring housekeeping duties more than I do now.  So...you know...if you're not afraid of dirty dishes or dirty bathrooms or dirty...you get the picture.  It's going to be dirty.  And the guys are going to be hungry.  ('Cuz I'm going to COOK less than I do now...which is saying something.)  Basically, you can pretend my family 's on the prayer list at church and the guys are going to need casseroles. LOL

2) 5 star Amazon reviews for my other books!

Friends, I have 16 other books of various genres. I've always said I'm not in the writing business for the money. I don't think any author gets up in the morning (or stays up late at night) because there's a big payday at the end of a novel. There typically isn't. Unless your last name is King, Grisham, Roberts, you know, something like that.  

The authors I know get up and write because they have to.  They have stories to tell. Yes, there's a business component to everything we do, but at the end of the day, it's about the art of it. Every writer and author I know has a day job.  Every writer and author I know wishes they could make just enough money at their craft to quit their day job and write full time.  We authors, we don't dream of yachts and summer homes.  We dream of long stretches of time building worlds for others to enjoy.

A storyteller needs an audience and in this digital/internet world, the audience for book lovers is Amazon.  Amazon tracks the number of reviews a book gets and every book needs X reviews to gain visibility on Amazon so that other readers can find the book.  

I've been selling books now for more than a decade, to people who across the board have told me they love my writing.  (Not a brag, I'm just saying.) And I've been pounding away every November for the last ten years, laying the groundwork for a new book.  My reviews on amazon, while generally great, are very few and far between. So I'm putting out this plea, PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.  

You don't need to be a best selling author to leave a book review on Amazon.  Simply click the 5 stars.  That's literally all you need. If you want to leave a comment, all you have to say is, "I really enjoyed this book."  Every review gets me closer to visibility on Amazon, closer to other readers reading my story. As a storyteller, this is the dream. Getting my stories to the biggest market possible.

And during Nano, seeing reviews for my books goes a long way to boosting me and reminding me that there is a point to what I do. People are reading my stories. They are loving my characters. I have a reason to go on!

1) Don't judge! Just send me encouragement! (But NOT on my phone!)

November is not only Nanowrimo, it's also the beginning of the holiday season. People laugh when I say I'm just about done gift shopping, but I have to be. November is all about the work.  There is nothing else.  In other years I've cut my Nano time short because of Thanksgiving, because I have to spend time with family and whatnot.

Not. This. Year.

That's how serious I am about this book.  It's going to be good. But not if I can't focus. So yes, I'm going to do some mildly social-family-holiday stuff, but I'm not planning on spending any kind of heavy duty quality time ooh-ing and ah-ing over my mom's turkey (I mean, it's not going to be good anyway, but this year I'm not even going to try and lie about it. That just takes up time. LOL)  I'm going to avoid social gatherings (more than I do now!) and I'm going to turn down invitations. Please don't judge. Just understand.

And send me messages, but not by phone. Cheer me on via Facebook or Sarah's Twitter.  Give me funny memes about writing, coffee, encouragement. Just say you wish me well.

This blog might sound like I'm going off to do something difficult and draining. I am. But it's something I love and this year...this year I'm going to put everything I have into it. And I'll be able to do it.

With a little help from my friends!

On a side note, it's NOT TOO LATE to sign up for Nanowrimo if you want to give it a go. It's FREE.  (Well, no money is involved.)  And I'll be your buddy!

Five for Friday: Here's a challenge!

 Hello and Happy October everyone!  (Yes, I realize we're halfway through October...whatever.)

There are a lot of other things I'm not doing this month either. But, I AM doing this thing:  

If you're in the New Berlin, WI, area TOMORROW, 10-16-21, come on down, check out my titles including my NEWEST:  Deal with a Devil

Okay, anyway, today's Five for Friday was inspired by a bunch of stuff I've managed to try (and fail) to do recently.  Yes, you are going to be tempted to try this stuff too.  Go ahead, do it. Especially if you're at work. Really give this stuff the good old college try.  Your co-workers will thank you!

5)  You can't put your elbow in your ear.

This is an old one, I think I got it from a TV commercial talking about cleaning your ears (clearly it was ANTI-Q TIP)  but recently I thought of it and had to give it go. Fail.  Give it a try.  See if you, like me, manage to 

4)  You can't tickle yourself.

I had ridiculously ticklish feet.  Just ask the few brave women who have given me pedicures over the years.  BUT, I can do whatever I want to my feet without nary a giggle.

3) You can't snap your toes.

Actually, I can do this.  It freaks Hubby out.  Go ahead. Try snapping your toes like you would your fingers.  I can...but I bet you CAN'T.

2) You can't smell or taste something disgusting without needing to share it.

It's not that we want to cause our loved ones discomfort. Or maybe we do. Humans are weird. But we've all been there, right? We've all opened that container in the fridge that smells like it came out of a Vincent Price movie and we say, "Oh wow, this is gross. Here smell this!

Did you taste something horrible?  I know, just like I know my own waist size, that you've turned to the person closest to you at the table and said, "This is so awful, you have to taste this!"

We can't help ourselves. Misery loves company.  If your pet barfs or craps in the house, you know, YOU KNOW, you're narrating everything as you clean it up, so everyone within 50 feet of you knows just how horrible the smell and texture are.  

"OH WOW, that cat vomit is REALLY juicy this time! It must be fresh!  CAT, what on earth are we feeding you that this smells so bad?  Did you eat rotting fruit? What is this?"

My challenge: The next time you come across something that smells or tastes terrible...keep it to yourself. Don't try to get your loved ones in on the fun. You'll fail, we all do, but try.

1)  You can't measure your own inseam.

This is actually the reason for this whole blog. You know that lovely, dreamy in between time in the morning when you're not really awake, but not asleep anymore?  Most people enjoy the remnant of a nice dream or, if you're my mother and it's the 1980's, you wake up wondering what you're going to defrost for dinner.  Not me. Nope. Couple days ago I drifted awake and realized I was bent in a weird way, as if trying to...measure my inseam.

Guess what, I couldn't. And neither can you!

Okay, so there we go.  5 things you absolutely cannot do. As an observer of humanity, I think I can confidently predict that you're going to spend at least five minutes today trying all five of them.  At the very least I will have distracted you from whatever you're supposed to be doing.

My work here is done.

In our defense, it was 4:45 in the morning...

 

 WARNING:  Today's blog includes a video that may contain salty language. Also, there might be  just a little touch of sacrilege.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

A second blog on the same weekend? Well, sure. Extra long weekend means, extra weird stuff happening at the Bradley manse.  Or, in the case, in the Mighty Cube on the way to the airport.

Hubby's annual trip to the mountains begins today. Many of you know that means last night was the "Don't stress your mother out" speech to Peaches and Skippy.  (Honestly, after last week, I'm REALLY hoping we all just take a lot of naps and eat ice cream for the next two weeks. Or something like that.)  Anyway the kick off to his trip out west is the airport drop off.  Since his flight left at 6-something-AM, we had to be on the road to the airport in the middle of the night. 

Seriously.  I really miss the days of getting to the airport at the last minute and just running onto the plane. 

Okay, that never happened in my real life, or probably anyone else's, but this whole having to get to the airport ages before takeoff, it's just...annoying.

Fortunately, the coffee is generally hot and almost always fresh at Casa Bradley.  And, since it's 2021 and a holiday weekend, the local radio station was playing a massive "party block" of songs, all of which were upbeat, and familiar, and fun.

That's when Gwen Stefani's "Hollaback Girl came on the radio.

I'll admit it, I enjoy that song. And while it was playing, I got to thinking...out loud..."Where is THIS generation's cheerleader song?"

I mean, come on. My generation had "Mickey."  Remember "Mickey?"

And Peaches' generation had the much saltier, slightly less innocent, "Hollaback Girl." 

But where is the cheerleader song today?  

To which, Hubby said, "There probably is one.  They just don't play it on the radio stations we listen to."

True. I listen to the local ROCK station in the mornings, you know, for Bob and Brian. On Saturdays, when I'm not at the farmers' market, I listen to the call in request show on 88nine radio Milwaukee (For reasons that have nothing to do with today's blog). On the way to church on Sundays, we tune in to K-Love (Contemporary Christian Hits, for those of you not familiar.)  And that's it for me for radio.

"Yes," says I.  "They wouldn't have a cheerleading song on K-Love. I mean, what would that even sound like?"

And then my brain, my sleepy, coffee-soaked brain, started working the way it does sometimes and I started singing, not with the radio, no, with the tune to "Micky."  And this is what came out of my mouth...

"Oh Jesus, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind! Hey Jesus, hey hey Jesus!"

In case anyone out there is pondering this, Hubby suggested the video could also be just like "Micky." Just put a big "J" on the cheerleaders' sweaters, and you're good to go.

So there's that. 

BOOM goes the fluffy girl!

Okay, you don't NEED to watch the video below to enjoy this blog...but it's hilarious in a cringy sort of way, so why not?

 

Hello everyone!

If you are friends with me on Facebook...and seriously, why aren't you...then you already know I fell down this week.

People of my age...and weight class...spend a lot of time and energy trying to NOT fall down.  When you're little and cute and you fall, everyone says, "Aww, did you fall down. Let me help you up."

That changes DRASTICALLY, when you reach your 50's and you're no longer what anyone would call, "little" or "cute."  

Here's the story:

As with most things in my life, this story takes place at Sam's, where I'm about to pick up a prescription for Skippy.  (This was a winning week at the Bradley house.  Four trips to the pharmacy in three days...yeah, there's nothing wrong with the state of mental health care in America.  Anyway, this was trip number four, and the second of day (actually, the second of the HOUR) Hubby had already been three times in the week, so Peaches and I said we'd go, pick up the newest meds and maybe some other fun stuff.  

We got there, grabbed a cart, picked up a few items and were about to head to the pharmacy where they know me so well that I can check out a few more than "one or two" items right there.  I think we had five items in the cart as we passed the big open coolers where they sell berries and grapes. I decided we needed some raspberries so I turned (without saying anything to Peaches) to my right. 

I thought I was fully behind Peaches, who was pushing the cart, but no. I was not.  I stepped on Peaches' flip flop as she was in mid step. Horrified, thinking I'd stepped on her foot, I lifted my foot quickly, stumbled, and went sprawling to the concrete floor.  

 Now, at this point, I'm facing the concrete, so I can't see what's going on behind me and Peaches can't tell if I'm conscious or not.  She looked around, she said, for a strong dude to come help, you know, because there's no way she's strong enough to heft me off the floor.  No one was nearby, except...one...woman.

For a moment.

That woman, according to Peaches, too one look at my daintily splayed body and abandoned her cart, diving quickly into the liquor aisle and out of sight.  Peaches says she's pretty sure the woman left her purse behind, such was her rush to NOT help.

Fortunately, however, I was able to get back to my feet.  My left knee was pretty scraped up, but I seemed to be okay otherwise. Nothing seemed broken.  I was so grateful I could still move on my own, I don't even think I felt all that much embarrassed.  Which is funny because there's no way I shouldn't be completely shamed by this.

Anyway, we got to the pharmacy where Silver, (Not his real name) the young pharma tech commented that this was our family's second trip there...(yeah, dude, we know.) That's when I hobbled up on my soap box briefly about mental health care in this country. I can't yell at Silver too much though.  That dude is actually really helpful.

By the time we got home, however, I realized something was clearly not happy with my knee. Well, I mean, not so much my knee as the knee pit (which is what the kids called it when they were little.) I couldn't bend it.  I couldn't put weight on it.  Getting up from a chair, or, THE THRONE, was unbelievably painful.  

Sleeping was NOT in the cards for me Wednesday night.  Every move and shift was horrible.  

Thursday morning I got up and, with the aid of leaning on all my furniture (I'm never in my LIFE been so thankful I live in a small house) I managed to get around.  Getting dressed was...an event.  I couldn't bend my left leg AT ALL and I couldn't bend at the waist to get something of the floor. So, this is how I put on my shorts:

I set them on the floor and kicked the leg holes open as wide as I could. I stepped into the leg holes (holding myself up with one hand on the dresser and one on the bed) and slipper my toes under the bottom hem of each leg. The I hoisted my right foot up, which brought the shorts up my left leg, and I grabbed the waist band with my right hand before my left leg gave out completely.  

Oh yeah, and thank goodness for slip on shoes.  Because socks, shoelaces, and velcro sandal straps were NOT HAPPENING.

Hubby gave me a round of applause for getting my shorts on without his help. So there's that.

Fortunately for me, Hubby used to make really nice walking sticks.  We still had one in the garage.  I used that to navigate around the house, often "Yoda style," on Thursday and part of Friday.

As long as I was moving, it was stiff and sore, but I could move. The minute I sat down for work for longer than a couple minutes, when I got up...great horrible screams.  Same with getting off the couch.

By Friday morning I was much better and today, while my knee is stiff and there's still a lot of soreness on the back of my leg, I managed to do the Farmer's Market and go grocery shopping.  Hubby, once again, is my knight in shining armor. He did the laundry this week and has helped me stay in motion to loosen up the muscles.  

Here's hoping that's it for drama. Hubby leaves for the mountains this weekend and, readers of this blog know, the big drama usually happens around here when he's away.  But, Skippy is back into his normal routine, Peaches is moving forward again, and I've already had my injury.  We should be good.

Oh yeah. We totally got this.  What else could POSSIBLY go wrong?