Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

New Jersey was enduring a record heat wave when we packed up for our annual road trip to Florida to see hubby’s parents. We did not know what to expect this year. Hubby had flown down a few times by himself this past year to help his parents. His father had broken his hip last September and needed constant nursing care. By February, hubby had arranged for his parents to move into an assisted living facility. His mother resisted the idea of leaving her house, but hubby insisted and she grudgingly went. Once his parents were both safely installed in their new apartment, we assumed life would be easier.

However, Mom was not happy. While she admitted that the food provided at the facility was good, that was the only thing she seemed to appreciate. With every phone call, she reminded us to get out our black suits. If hubby called the head nurse to ask about his parents, his mother became very angry with us for going behind her back.

Still, we knew the staff handled many tasks that had become difficult for Mom. They bathed Dad and gave him his medicine, they made doctor’s appointments and, of course, transportation to the doctor was provided.

The facility also provides many excursions along with entertainment programs, but Mom told us she did not participate in those. She and Dad ate in the dining room, but spent the rest of the day in their room watching television.

When we told Mom we would be staying for a week, she was angry. She thought we would be staying for three weeks. When we told her we would be staying at a nearby hotel, which had a pool and wi-fi, she was angry. “What do you think this is, a vacation?”

She expected us to stay in her old house. But there isn’t any wi-fi there—or television. Besides, the hotel was closer to the assisted care facility where Mom and Dad are now.

We were relieved when we arrived and saw Mom and Dad looking good, well-fed, clean and well-dressed. Though Dad can barely hear, his vision isn’t good, and he’s not really attentive most of the time—there are those moments when he is much like he’s always been—a big tease.:^)

Hubby talked with the head nurse. I drove Mom to the mall so she could buy new shoes.

Hubby discovered that his father is simply very aged. I found out that Mom still has plenty of energy but she frequently contradicts herself.

Our biggest mistake was to agree to take Mom to the house. She wanted us to look it over and see if it is in need of a new paint job before it is put on the market.

Also, we were supposed to be the cleaning crew.

Okay. No problem.

Ha.

I expected emotion. Mom cried. I got choked up, too. After all, we brought our daughters down every summer and we had some good times in that house.

But then Mom opened the door to air out the house. In Florida--in July--airing out the house means letting in all the humidity and heat. I vacuumed all the rugs as sweat ran down my face. Hubby helped Mom clean all the mirrors.

Hubby and I do not think the house needs to be repainted. However, when hubby turned the water on, I heard the toilet running. The valve needed to be replaced.

Meanwhile, Mom’s emotions went from tears to anger. She wants to move back into her house.

No amount of logic could do anything to change her mind. When we returned to the apartment, I offered to hang up some of the paintings that had been taken from the house. Hubby said he had left a small hammer and picture hooks in a drawer in the apartment. Mom claimed one of the staff had stolen the hammer and hooks.

Hubby and I searched the apartment. I found the hammer and hooks in a cardboard box in the closet.

Mom exploded. She did not want the pictures hung on the walls. She was not staying in the apartment. She was moving back home!

Hubby and I left the apartment. We went to a Mexican restaurant and had very large Margaritas.

We decided not to take Mom to the house again. We stopped at Home Depot and bought the toilet valve replacement. Hubby put it in while I cleaned up some disgusting moldy gunk on the floor in the old family room. Yuck.

The next day, we ate in the dining room with Mom and Dad. I tried to suggest that Mom should go on some of the excursions offered by the facility. She said she won’t because then the staff will find out how bad Dad is and they’ll put it in his report and soon he’ll be locked away in Memory Lane and she’ll never see him again.

Again, logic did not help the matter. She only got more worked up.

We decided to take Mom and Dad on an excursion to the beach. That turned out to be a good idea. For a few hours, all was calm, but when we said we were taking them back to the apartment, Mom got angry again. She wanted us to spend every minute of the day with her.

The next day, we took them to another beach. Again, all was pleasant for a while. Dad and Mom sang songs together and I captured those precious moments with my camera.

Then we took them back to the apartment in time for their dinner. Again, Mom was angry, but we promised to be back immediately after dinner.

Hubby had retrieved his old accordion from the house. He brought music along and so as everyone in the dining hall was finishing their supper, we provided an impromptu concert.

The residents loved it. I sang, hubby played. We kept it up for over and hour. Mom was all smiles as all the residents learned that the musician was her son.

The concert ended. We went upstairs to Mom and Dad’s apartment. We thought we could leave the accordion there so that it would be available for the next time we visit.

Mom complained. “What am I going to do with it when I move back to the house?”

Oy.

Again, hubby reiterated that it would be nice so that the next time he visits he could play for everyone.

“Do you think we’ll be here next time you visit?” Mom asked.

Hubby picked up the accordion. We gave Mom and Dad a hug, said goodbye and left quickly.

It was difficult to endure Mom’s anger directly solely at us.

Otherwise, from all we could see, she is very sweet to the staff and to the other residents. In fact, the women that sit at the table in the dining room with Mom and Dad for every meal told me how much they enjoy all the stories Mom tells.

And Mom does go on at least one excursion on a regular basis. Every two weeks, the facility provides a bus trip to the library less than half a block from Mom’s old home. She hops on the bus and visits her house every two weeks.

For years, we’ve asked Mom and Dad to move near us. They’ve always refused.

I don’t expect the gloom and doom phone calls to change, but we do know Mom and Dad are in good hands.

Hubby plans to fly down for Mom and Dad’s 70th Wedding Anniversary. They are so fortunate.

But don’t try telling that to Mom.

I Bought a Nook

Most people know I'm a bookaholic--so this year I amassed $85 in Barnes and Nobles giftcards, which is really amazing and I thank all those who were so generous to me. The problem is I already have a zillion books in my To-Be-Read pile. I try to stay away from bookstores. However, the temptation is often too strong. Last week, the local AAUW had its yearly book sale when all the books were priced at $5 a bag. I filled the bag--to the brim--and felt guilty for adding more books to my collection.

Then the price of the Nook came down to $149. I already have an eBookwise reader, which I love. I love the backlight that allows me to read in the dark. I can read while hubby is driving, while hubby is sleeping, and while hubby is listening to jazz music in the park. (Hint: I am not a fan of jazz.)

But the Nook has Wi-Fi, I can check my email, my Facebook, and my Twitter--and download books from the air--or best of all--upload my current manuscript into the Nook as a PDF and then edit it. The font selection goes from very small to very big. :^) The display uses e-ink which is easy on the eyes. With $85 in giftcards, I only needed $64 of my own cash to complete the transaction.

So I bought the Nook. But then I needed a cover to protect it and Barnes and Noble had a neo-hippie purple and pink cover with an orange heart on one side and a peace symbol on the other for $29.95. How could I resist?

So for the past few days, I've been playing with my new Nook. I downloaded a free copy of Jane Eyre into it, but it came loaded with some all time hits like Pride and Prejudice and Dracula as well as some interesting samples.

Then I downloaded The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything, a book I've been wanting to get. It took moments for it to load into my Nook. This could be a very dangerous toy for a bookaholic.

Surfing the web isn't all that easy. The touch screen is small, but very sensitive. It is not as fast as a computer. Still, after a bit of practice, I can manage it. I think having small fingers helps.

The Nook came with two games, chess and Sudoku. I don't play games, except for Scrabble--and that I like to do with real, live people.

The Nook can also hold music files. I moved some of my classical Chopin files into the Nook. Now I can read AND listen to Chopin. No matter where I go, I can feel like I'm inside Barnes and Noble's store.

I'm happy with my Nook. I am so delighted that ebooks have finally been recognized as being as good as paper books. It took so much longer than I anticipated when I first became an e-published author, but to see the general public embracing the new technology is wonderful. I see people reading on their ebook devices in doctor's waiting rooms and on the subway.

The Nook is a very nice gadget.

Review of The Hunted of 2060

In the summertime, I get a little extra time to read. Very often, I enjoy reading something quite different from my usual fare and since I seldom read sci-fi novels, I knew I had to broaden my horizons. I can count on one hand the sci-fi novels that I've read. My sister told me I had to read The Martian Chronicles and my children quoted The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy so much, I felt compelled to see what intrigued them. Of course, I loved the original Star Trek, but that was because I was young and infatuated with Captain Kirk at the time. Still, I have also read the delightful Star Sapphire by Han May (Joan Fong).

So for this summer's adventure into sci-fi, I read The Hunted of 2060, by Ami Rebecca Blackwelder. (ISBN: 1452805474 and ISBN: 9781452805474)
The novel concerns April who is nineteen and studying at the university when she begins to suffer from an odd illness. Her boyfriend, Robert, is always there to offer comfort, but April cannot understand the changes in her body--the incredible heightening of her senses, her strength and speed. Her lust for meat.

Then one day walking along the campus between classes, she is rendered unconscious. Waking in the forest, she sees a face exactly like her own. April’s twin sister tells her the truth. She is a hybrid. Her father was an alien shifter, her mother human. While April was given up at birth for adoption, Arquet, her sister, was raised with other hybrid clans in the forest. None of them trust humans.

The Rogue Militia is dedicated to wiping out the hybrids and April must fight for survival with the rest of her clan. Will she ever be able to go back to her life at the university and her sweet, loyal boyfriend, Robert?

Torn between her two natures, April longs for the serenity of her former life but she cannot stop the beast within her from emerging. She must learn to kill to save those she loves, but the enemy will not end the slaughtering of hybrids. The unarmed hybrids are pitted against warriors with modern weapons. It is April who must make the clans realize there are some humans who can be trusted—some who can help them in their battle for freedom.

Readers will love April. She is a worthy heroine caught in terrible circumstances who must stand up for the cause of justice. With one battle after another, the book is fast paced and full of action, but for me it was April’s tender love and devotion which made this book an enjoyable read.

Magic Wings

Months ago, I started giving away free short stories at my website, http://www.penelopemarzec.com. One of the stories,"A Shade of Difference," has a Blue Morpho butterfly in it. So when I announced that particular story was available for a download at my website, I found an image of that butterfly and uploaded it to this blog.

My sister noticed the image of the butterfly on my blog and told me of a place in Deerfield, Massachusetts, where there are plenty of live Blue Morpho butterflies flitting about in a greenhouse along with many other varieties of butterflies.

Magic Wings is indeed a magical place. There were plenty of Blue Morpho butterflies gliding around the greenhouse. The creatures are rather large, but some of them fly low so visitors do have to step carefully as they walk through the garden. One butterfly took a liking to my brother-in-law's green shirt and stayed there for a while.

Visitors have to check for butterflies hitchhiking a ride before they leave the greenhouse. This is a great place for young and old to see. You never know, it might give you an idea for a story. :^)

Almost Lost

I almost lost this small cross at the gym. The chain broke while I was on the treadmill at the gym. I grabbed the chain but I could not find the cross--and it is a special one because my brother gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday.

Hubby searched with me but there was no sign of the little cross. I figured the only thing I could do was report the loss to the manager and hope someone would find it while cleaning. I was also hoping it wouldn't get stuck in some gear in the treadmill.

However, first I stopped in the ladies room and there I found the little cross nestled close to my heart inside my bra. :^)

Now I just need a new chain.

But the moral of the story is to remove any jewelry before going to the gym.

First Impressions, The Book Cover

Congratulations to Kathy Otten. She won the set of notecards!

So far, my best selling book online has been the digital version of The Beast of Blackbirch Manor with the cover below.



The publisher changed the cover for the print version of the book.



Why? I don't know. Which cover do you find more attractive? Which one would you buy?

My latest release, The Fiend of White Buck Hall, has the cover you see below.



For some unknown reason, Amazon has not given the digital version of the book a cover. I did tell my publisher, and I did try to upload it myself to no avail. So on Amazon the book cover for digital version of The Fiend of White Buck Hall looks like this:

Despite the lack of a cover, there are readers who have purchased the digital version of that book. :^)

Book covers are an author's first impression for a reader. I have been disappointed in some of the covers I've received and ecstatic with others, but my opinion of the cover does not necessarily correlate with the sales of the books. Sales are influenced by other factors as well. However, a great book cover does help and I truly appreciate the skill of the artists who have worked on the covers for my books.

Look at the three books below. Which one would you choose to read--based on your first impression?



Anyone who comments from now until Friday, June 11, 2010, will be entered into a drawing. The winner will receive a set of notecards with the images of my bookcovers on the front of the notecards.

At the Library

I love to talk about books! I had a wonderful, attentive audience today at the Monmouth County Eastern Branch Library. They asked some great questions.

It was fun. :^)

Rolling With the Punches

Please see the follow-up for this post at: http://www.ameliamarzec.com/rewired/
It’s been a tough year for the Marzecs with too many hospitalizations of family members.

I’ve never watched television soap operas and for the most part, I’ve seldom been intrigued by any television series because I’ve got plenty of drama all around me.

Unfortunately, it’s not simply drama in the theatrical sense, it’s real—it’s painful—it doesn’t go away—and there isn’t always a happy ending. (Which is why I’m hooked on romances—I always get a happy ending no matter how bad things look in the beginning.)

Of all the difficult circumstances this year, the hardest one to take was discovering the tumor in Daughter #2’s head grew back after last year’s surgery to remove it. (You can read about that operation HERE.)

As soon as she found out the tumor had returned, she eliminated anything artificial from her diet and began to eat everything thought to reduce tumors. Yes, the tumor is technically benign, but it’s in a bad place. It presses on the facial nerve, the brain, and has been the cause of the loss of her hearing in her left ear.

This past week, Daughter #2 had her second surgery for the acoustic neuroma.


(Above: Waiting for surgery to begin.)


(Above: The surgeon's mark)

As we did last year, hubby and I stayed at Daughter #2’s Brooklyn apartment and took the subways to NYU Medical Center where the surgery was done. It was a long, delicate procedure and we did not see Daughter #2 in the recovery room until around 8:30 p.m.

Though she was groggy, she was able to speak to us. She was very concerned as to whether her facial muscles worked. The ones on her left side are weak, but minimally—so she may regain her wide smile. She told us to take out the garbage and to tell her landlord she was okay.

Exhausted, we headed back to Brooklyn late that night. However, we stopped to listen to an accordion player at the 14th Street station. Music is magical, no matter what else is going on—music touches the soul in a special way. The elderly accordionist played old folk tunes on his very ancient instrument. It was nice to take a break in all the hectic craziness of the 14th Street station.



By the next morning, Daughter #2 was doing very well. She was eating. Last year, for the first few days after surgery, she spent a lot of time being nauseous.


(Above:The morning after surgery--looking good.)

The doctors claim to have removed 95% of the tumor. They could not get it all because the facial nerve rested on it. So if the tumor grows—as it did last time, the next step is the gamma knife. Daughter #2 had an MRI on the third day, the results of that will give the doctors a baseline to assess any tumor growth.


(Above: The view from Daughter #2's room in intensive care.

Also on the third day, Daughter #2 had all the wires and tubes removed. Though she was still in ICU, her coworkers came to visit, which cheered her immensely.


(Above: Daughter #2 and some of her co-workers.)


(Above: The Impressive Scar)

The next day, the doctors took the bandage off. She has an impressive scar. Discharged from the hospital, she will now recuperate at home.

As for me, I’m just rolling with the punches.

Tracking Book Sales

I never know how my books are selling at my publishers' websites until I get a royalty statement from them. However, I can check my books' sales ranks at Barnes and Nobles as well as Fictionwise and I frequently do--though on Fictionwise it isn't easy because I must scroll through the lists. It is far easier to keep track of my sales on Amazon since there are several sites that will track my sales for me.

By far, my favorite tracking site is http://www.novelrank.com because that site will also track Kindle sales. It lists how many books were sold and when.

I also like Metric Junkie--mostly for their colorful graphs, though Kindle sales are not included. And for me, Kindle sales have been rather nice. :^)

For a simple listing of sales ranks, which is only for paper editions, I go to http://www.salesrankexpress.com/. This site will also list Amazon sales in other countries, too.

These tracking sites are helpful tools! Using them helps me to know if my promotional efforts have been effective.

Rutgers Day

Two of my sisters graduated from Rutgers. Daughter #2 graduated from Rutgers and Daughter #1 works for Rutgers. Since today's weather was perfect, we decided to be a part of Rutgers Day and joined the sea of people inundating the campus.



We bought food in front of the Food Science building.



Here's the famous Passion Puddle--still an idyllic spot.



We went to the Busch campus next. Daughter #1 works at the Cell and DNA Repository so we took a tour of it.



Afterwards, we tried some vanilla liquid nitrogen ice cream. Then hubby and Daughter #1 decided to try a Segway. Daughter #1 got the hang of it quickly.



At one exhibit, I learned how to tell the difference between a female and male skull. Maybe I can use that knowledge in a book someday.

We all had a great time. Although I was a bit disappointed that we did not see the Scarlet Knight. He was supposed to be on campus somewhere. :^(

One Long Dark Night

My father has rarely talked of his experiences as a sergeant in the Air Force during during World War II. He was stationed in New Guinea and the Philippines. When I was young he told us of a few humorous incidents, but nothing that ever even hinted at the horrors of war. For instance, once he was assigned to fly on a plane to Australia to pick up musicians and supplies. On the return trip, one of the plane's engines died and to make it back safely those inside had to lighten the load--part of which was gin. Did the men on board get toss the gin into the ocean? Of course not. They tossed out the musicians' instruments.

This story always made everyone laugh, and Dad has always been rather witty. However, since Mom died, he's become much more philosophical. And he still gets emotionally choked up--over just about everything.

Last Sunday, as we chatted after dinner, he related some war stories he had never told us. In one of them, he told how Japanese paratroopers floated down from the sky at dusk one evening on the island where he was stationed. My father set his men along a perimeter but as night wore on, he could not see the men and he did not know if the perimeter would hold.

He told us he was never so glad to see the dawn and to discover that indeed his men were still there. Dad got choked up as he told us the story.

Dad told us how he slept under a canvas roof for three years. How his job was to get men to work on an landing strip made of metal plates. How the enemy would come in with "daisy cutters" and shoot at the men. How the enemy planes would drop bombs on the landing strip.

Last year, I posted a photo I found online of my father. You can find the post here.

Dad wears a cap with the emblem of the Fifth Bomber Command sewed onto it. Most people have no idea what the emblem stands for. However, only a few weeks ago--at the dermatologist's office--we met another elderly man who had served in the Fifth, though in Korea. My father got choked up again, simply amazed after all these years he had found someone else who belonged to the Fifth--who knew what the emblem stood for.

I am glad my father made it back to New Jersey.

I pray for all those soldiers who are fighting now.

Distracting Myself

Last week Daughter #3 was in a hospital two hours away from home. We had a gloomy Easter because she was feeling really terrible! We brought her back home on Wednesday and she's now on the mend. Hopefully this was just what she needed so she can be better than ever. Today she was out in the sunshine soaking up some Vitamin D. So all is well.

However, the four hours of driving did get a bit wearing so I guzzled down a few cups of coffee to keep alert. I am so glad I can read and write in a moving vehicle. I have never gotten carsick, bus sick, train sick, or seasick. So while hubby was driving, I was typing on my Alphasmart, or reading, or editing. Hubby had an accordion CD playing, but it didn't bother me. I can tune out his music. I can get a lot done on a long car ride--especially when I'm tanked up on coffee.

Of course, whenever I drive he has to listen to my music. :^)

Today I gave a talk at RWA NYC about marketing e-books. I wrote and revised a lot of that talk while we were going back and forth to see Daughter #3 in the hospital. Writing that talk was a good diversion.

That's the way I usually operate. I firmly believe in distraction. Everyone has troubles, but rather than dwell on them I keep busy. It works for me. It's kept me sane--or at least as sane as a writer can be because I have all these imaginary people in my head who want me to tell their story.

And right now, Grace and Russell are getting impatient. I've got to finish their story. They're about to go to Minnesota for a wedding.

Sure beats going to a hospital.

What I Did During the Nor'Easter

Yesterday, while New Jersey was being hammered by a nor'easter, I got up early and drove north on the Parkway to Woodbridge to attend the Liberty States Fiction Writers conference. Once there, I chatted with old friends and some new ones. I listened to Sarah Wendell insist that authors should be putting up free digital content on their website. I listened to F. Paul Wilson talk about the writing life.

I also had appointments with two editors and one agent. I was trying to sell a contemporary romance which doesn't fit in with my current publishers' lines. I was also trying to find a home for my two fantasy novellas which were previously published by New Concepts Publishing. The rights of those two novellas have been returned to me.

I am not a neophyte when it comes to pitching a book. I have done it many times--though I am always nervous about it. Invariably, no matter how much I practice, my brain will disconnect at some point and fail to mention a critical plot point. When I suddenly realize an important piece of plot is missing, I will stumble over my words.

Fortunately, the majority of editors and agents are not fire-breathing dragons. (There may be a few out there, but I haven't met them yet.) I was not singed despite my inept pitches. I will be sending off my manuscripts once I read through them again and make sure I have all my commas in place.

Convincing someone else that I've written a really good book takes more than a ten minute interview. They have to read the book, too. :^)

It's All in the Details

Hubby and I went to the beach on Sunday. It was mild for February even though the sand had plenty of snow on it as did the boardwalk. We watched one woman hand breadcrumbs to her children so they could feed the seagulls. The birds squabbled with each other over every piece. Of course, people really should not feed them, but it was interesting to watch the birds--up close. They weren't afraid of us. I think they figured we might be giving them a handout, too. They watched us rather expectantly.

Even if I didn't have a camera in my hand, I'm sure I could recall many of the details if I needed to use a similar scene in one of my books. Since I grew up at the shore, it's easy for me to create an accurate picture. I know the vocabulary of the beach, the color of the sand, the things that drift in on the tide, the smell of the ocean, the sound of the waves, and the cry of the gulls. Then there's that peaceful feeling that settles on everyone when they stare out at the vast expanse of water.

The beach has a special ambiance all its own, but no two days are alike at the beach. There's the beach in the fog (which is really awesome), on a windy day, and on a sweltering day in July. Same scene--different atmosphere, which is great for mirroring the mood in the story. It's all in the details.

Blogging at Backseat Nightmares

Check out the blog at Backseat Nightmares today. See what I have to say about the Chinese zodiac and me at http://romanceinthebackseat.com/paranormal/blog/2010/02/stubborn-ox-by-penelope-marzec.html.

Which animal in the Chinese zodiac are you?

You can find out at:

http://www.chiff.com/home_life/holiday/chinese-zodiac.htm.

Book Video for The Fiend of White Buck Hall

I spent the past few days putting together a book video for The Fiend of White Buck Hall. I bought several stock photos from iStockphoto, but as usual I had several photos of my own to use. The mansion in the video is Batso. The park scenes are from Thompson Park.

In fact, the initial idea for The Fiend of White Buck Hall came from a walk in the park one evening at dusk. We heard and saw an owl in a tree high above us. Then Daughter #2 swore she heard a deer stamping the ground behind us.

I did not see a deer, but it was getting a bit creepy. So we hurried out of there as quickly as we could. The park ranger was waiting by our car. :^)

You can find the book at http://www.newconceptspublishing.com. Currently, it is only available in digital form.

Just Released!

They say Thomas Hillyer, a wizard, is in league with the Devil and that the white buck roaming his estate hypnotizes people and steals their souls. Molly is a fugitive, wanted for a crime she did not commit. Seeing a want ad for a secretary in a sleepy town, she sets off for White Buck Hall but ignores the warning about the albino stag who lurks in the woods. When she meets him on the forest path, her life is forever changed.

You can read the first chapter at:

http://www.newconceptspublishing.com/penelopemarzecbooks.html

Latest Interview

If you want to know more about me, it's easy. Just go to:

http://www.fallenangelreviews.com/Interviews/2010/January-JoAnn-PenelopeMarzec.htm.

There's a brand new interview with all sorts of fascinating details about my life. :^)

Enjoy!

Another One

Yesterday's weather was lovely. Hubby and I decided to visit a bigger, more elaborate labyrinth. This one is on the grounds of the Upper Room Spiritual Center. Below you can see hubby walking around.



There's a small plaque that explains a bit about labyrinths.



I am totally hooked on labyrinths now and want to visit as many as I can.

Labyrinths

The temperature was around fifty degrees outside today, which was quite nice for the middle of January and the perfect day for a walk.

I had happened to see a small article in Woman's World magazine about labyrinths. The article claimed that walking in a labyrinth endows you with peace and focus. It can also assist you in thinking more creatively and give you powerful insights--great stuff for a writer! And if you're stressed, it's supposed to alleviate that problem, too. I thought this would be a just the thing for hubby and I to experience. All I had to do was find one with the labyrinth locator at: http://www.labyrinthsociety.com.

It turned out that there was a labyrinth nearby. Unfortunately, a tree had fallen on part of the maze. But hubby and I dutifully followed the pathways as much as we could. Hubby was concerned whether we were doing it right.

We finished it quickly and I really did not feel any more focused or more peaceful. But perhaps I need to walk in another labyrinth--a bigger one.

I looked up more information on labyrinths at http://www.lessons4living.com/labyrinth.htm so that next time I'll have the proper attitude when we walk along the winding paths. We'll do it right!

Great Review for The Company You Keep!

The Company You Keep received Four Coffee Cups from Cherokee, a reviewer for Coffee Time Romance. She said, "The Company You Keep is a delightful story. I enjoyed the simmering chemistry that slowly continued to brew between Jennifer and Nathan. The suspense spills along the way, and keeps the reader engaged and on the edge-of-the-seat. With each page, I was taken deeper and deeper into this driven read. Penelope Marzec builds an in-depth story, and driven players that captivate. I found the foundation of the storyline wonderfully done. This story not only kept this reader guessing until the conclusion, but also left a wonderful sensation in the soul after this unique read."

You can read the entire review at http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/thecompanyyoukeep.html

The book is available at Crescent Moon Press. Check it out!

Excerpt from HEAVEN'S BLUE

Published by Awe-Struck Publishing
ISBN-10: 1587494469
ISBN-13: 978-1587494468

Samantha's tour of the house turned out to be rather brief. David hadn't realized how small the cottage really was. A kitchen, a pantry/utility room, a living room, one bedroom, one bathroom, and a screened-in porch. No basement, no attic, no den.

A cooling breath of air fanned David's face as they stepped back out onto the porch, the best feature of the tiny house. Four wicker chairs and a low table formed a cozy seating arrangement.

Samantha sank down onto one of the chairs and David did the same. James crawled into his lap.

"So how am I supposed to catch the mosquitoes?" he asked.

"You stand outside and naturally, some mosquitoes land on you."

She gave him a tremulous smile and he blinked to prevent himself from being mesmerized.

"I have a straw-type device and you sort of suck up the mosquito--"

"What if I swallow it?" David interrupted.

"It won't hurt you."

He watched her long, thin fingers smooth out her gauzy skirt. Everything about her seemed so soft and feminine that he almost felt he could relax. He wrapped his arms more closely about James. No. He couldn't let down his guard. Not with her. Not with anyone.

He glanced outside at the endless miles of salt hay and at the blue water beyond that. It would be safe enough, he guessed. "Anyhow, then you put the live mosquito--because, of course, it must be live to test the pesticide--into a small cardboard trap--with a screen on it, so it can't get out. I'll do all the rest. It isn't difficult."

"So I'm a sitting duck. I stand outside, get eaten alive by bugs, maybe catch a few--"

"You have to catch a lot," she broke in. "This part of the study is very important. I have been breeding mosquitoes in the lab and testing the pesticide on them, but I need a control group, a totally unrelated batch of mosquitoes."

"Can't you just take your vacuum cleaner outside and draw in a million of them?"

Her archaic method sounded ridiculous to David.

"You would hurt them!" She frowned.

"Heaven forbid," he stated in a mocking tone.

Her eyes sparked flint at him. He leaned back in the chair, feeling the heat from her searing gaze. James sighed as his eyes began to close.

"It's extremely important research," she reminded him.

David didn't doubt that the earnestness in her face could convince Congress to appropriate trillions of dollars in funding for her cause. Then he reminded himself that right now, he and James needed a safe haven, and this could be an ideal situation.

"Okay, okay." He tried to sound apologetic. "There are nasty viruses and we must do something about it. So when do I start my human pincushion routine?"

"Tomorrow. Today is Sunday..." Her voice trailed off and she glanced into the distance.

Simply the thought of anything religious made him defensive and he stiffened. He had seen nothing but hypocrisy in his dealings with supposed "Christians".

"It doesn't matter to me what day this is," he said. "I don't believe there is a God."

She whipped her head around and stared at him with such surprise in her expression that he had an urge to touch the top of his head to make sure he hadn't sprouted horns.

"Not at all?"

With a voice that sounded hard and bitter, even to his own ears, he gave her his version of the world. "Everything that happens here on this earth is random. Good people meet up with terrible tragedies and very evil people do remarkably well during their lifetimes. Why would a god, who supposedly loved his creations, treat them so cruelly? Why would he make them suffer? The good guys don't win. Honesty is not the best policy. The clever liar will always have a better life."

He didn't add that women who are monsters get custody of their children. He couldn't say it because he knew he was guilty of not spending enough time with his own son. He should have known, but he had been too busy.

"I can understand how you might feel that way."

Her voice had such a tender quality to it that for a fleeting second he actually believed her and thought she might be capable of understanding his predicament. Then his better judgment returned and he glared at her, fully expecting her to clobber him with sermon number one, a compassionate plea aimed at getting him to come back to the fold.

However, she surprised him by not saying another word. The silence hung between them like the heavy atmosphere on the muggy afternoon. She turned her head to stare off into the distant, hazy horizon. He hesitated. She seemed so vulnerable for a moment. He noticed her hands tremble slightly and she bit her lip.

He shook himself mentally. She was probably feeling tainted by sitting in close proximity with a heathen. She might be regretting the fact that she had hired him.

He glanced down at James. His son had fallen fast asleep in his arms.

"I guess I better show you to your room," Samantha whispered.

Though he tried not to move suddenly, the moment he got out of the chair, James woke up again.

"Put me down, Daddy!" James insisted.

David sighed. From this point on, he knew James would be completely wired and impossible to deal with unless he got a nap.

Samantha led them across the yard to the lab building, a low concrete structure. She ushered them into a small hallway and then unlocked the door on the left. When she swung it open, David sucked in his breath as an overwhelming sensation hit him. The small, austere room reminded him of a cell--maybe it was the color of the walls, a sickly, institutional green, or maybe it was the cheap metal furniture. Or maybe it was a premonition. He struggled to recover his regular breathing rate and force down his fear.

Samantha crossed over to the small window and opened it. "I'm sorry it's so stuffy in here. I have a fan in the lab you can use."

Meanwhile, of course, James bounced into the room and opened the wardrobe along with every drawer. He lifted a black book out of one.

"What's this?"

"A Bible." Samantha answered.

James opened it. "There aren't any pictures."

"No. But there are lots of stories."

James frowned at the dull-looking book and dropped it back into the drawer. "Bunkbeds!" he squealed as he clambered up the ladder. "Can I sleep on the top?"

"Sure," David replied hoarsely.

"Look, I can touch the ceiling." James reached up with just his index finger.

"You're taller than your father, now." Samantha smiled.

"I am!" James looked ready to burst with delight.

David felt a painful squeeze around his heart at the unbridled joy in his son's face.

When Samantha showed them the tiny bathroom, James grabbed the faucet and turned it on full force. Water splashed out over the sides of the small bowl. "James! Stop it!" David roared. He slapped at James' hand and switched the faucet off. James' tiny shoulders shook and his face crumpled. David clamped his jaw together. He knew that James' tears would be next. Would Samantha decide that she had made a mistake in bringing him and his son here? However, Samantha simply turned to a small closet and got out a bucket and a sponge.

"This is Mr. Spongy, James, he can wipe up any mess." "Hello, James." Samantha, using a silly voice, folded the sponge in her hand and made it open and close like a mouth. One tear rolled down James' cheek, but he immediately started to smile. "Hi Mr. Spongy."

"I am so thirsty, James, can you help me drink up this water?" Samantha handed the sponge to James who eagerly tried to make it talk, too. Then David watched in amazement as she patiently showed James how to wipe up the mess.

Once that was finished, Samantha left them to settle into their new surroundings. James went back to the drawer with the Bible. He took it up to the top bunk with him and started turning the pages.

"The big lion ran after the little boy to eat him up." James made up a story for himself.

David went to the window and looked out over the desolate marshland. He could see nothing but miles and miles of short grass interspersed with narrow waterways stretching to the blue sea beyond. Would he be safer in a forest, or at the top of a mountain? He shrugged. For two weeks, this would probably be okay.

When he turned back to check on his son, he found the child fast asleep with the Bible beside him. David eased the book away and put it back into the drawer. Just the sight of the book irritated him. Based on it, he was destined to a fiery eternity. Well, better that than watch his young son suffer. He stood beside the bunk bed and listened to the child's even, light breathing. Suddenly, he felt wearier than he had in weeks.

To read more about the book go to Awe-Struck Publishing.

Contest Winner!

Bernadine is the winner of a print copy of Sea Of Hope! She commented on the excerpt from that book which I posted on this blog. Anyone who commented was automatically entered into the contest.

Now I have to decide which book will be the prize in my next contest. Which book would you like to win?

Karma

We had a huge snowstorm on Saturday night. It looked lovely as it fell and coated the trees and bushes. However, by Sunday morning we had about twenty inches of snow on the ground--and the snow had drifted so that in some spots it was much higher.

We used shovels and brooms around the cars. Hubby got out his gasoline powered snowblower, but it was not working properly. We have a small electric snowblower, too. I plugged that in but we had to shave off layers of snow with it as we went along--and we did not have enough extension cords to get the snowblower to the sidewalk.

Then a truck plow went by and pushed up a mound of snow nearly four feet high at the end of our driveway. The situation appeared rather hopeless. Each shovelful of snow was as effective as using a thimble to empty out the ocean.

Fortunately, our neighbor, George, who has a massive snowblower came to the rescue.

My father's neighbors shoveled him out, which was a good thing because we did not get to Dad's house until yesterday. Daughter #2's godparents were surprised when a young couple came along to dig them out. The couple would not accept any money for the job. They told her it was karma. Daughter #2's godmother had no idea what they were talking about so she asked me what that meant. I told her it means that the good you do comes back to you. While that's a rather simplistic definition, I figured it was good enough for a eighty year old.

To all the wonderful people who helped dig out their neighbors after the snowstorm I offer my thanks. God bless you. :^)

Frito Pie

I went to the New Jersey Romance Writers' Christmas party today and I brought along my Frito Pie. I never make this recipe at home because it is loaded with sodium. However, it is easy to make and very tasty--the perfect dish for a party because at a holiday gathering nobody is being mindful of their diet anyway. :^)

I originally clipped the recipe from an issue of Woman's World magazine, but I adapted it slightly by making it nearly twice the size.

Enjoy!

FRITO PIE

2 small (9 1/4 ounce) bags of Frito Corn Chips
2 large (27 ounce) cans of kidney beans, rinsed and drained
2 large (25 ounce) cans of Hormel, No Beans, Chili
4 tablespoons dried minced onion
2 cups of shredded extra sharp Cheddar cheese

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spread 1 bag of corn chips on the bottom of a 9 x 13 pan. Lightly, crush the corn chips. In a large bowl, combine the chili, beans, and onion. Spread that mixture over the corn chips. Sprinkle with the shredded cheese.

Top with the remaining bag of corn chips--except for a few which you are allowed to eat because you are burning calories putting this wonderful food together.

Bake until hot and bubbly--about 30 minutes.

Serves a lot of people!

Watching Cataract Surgery

I watched a miracle occur. My father had a cataract removed and I was allowed to view the procedure. My father's left eye had 20/100 vision. With the cataract gone and the new lens implanted, he now has 20/30 vision in that eye.

I've been nearsighted since I was eleven years old--so I think it is really quite amazing that my father now has such terrific vision without glasses.

At first, the idea of viewing the procedure made me a bit queasy. However, the nurse reassured me that I wouldn't see any blood.

I thought about it for a minute. The knowledge about what happens during cataract surgery might be useful in a novel at some point. I enjoy amassing all kinds of extraneous knowledge just because I might need it someday. You can never tell where my muse will lead me.

Though I had already heard the doctor explain the procedure to my father, there's a big difference between hearing about something and actually seeing it occur.

I decided to be brave and watch. The ophthalmologist had a small observation room for family members. I was led in by the nurse and seated. From a glass window I could see into the room where the surgery took place. I could barely see doctor's back due to some large machines. My father lay covered in blue cloth on a gurney. The doctor's assistant waved to me. He was the one who handed the doctor the necessary tools.

What I could see very well was a monitor with the giant image of my father's eye--due to the lighting it appeared as a large reddish iris surrounded by white. Everything happened just as the doctor said it would. It did not take long.

Afterward, Dad was fine. He felt no pain and found the most annoying result of the surgery to be the eye drops. He had a tough time learning to plop the drops in by himself, but he was insistent on accomplishing the task without help. :^)

I went home and discovered that you can view the entire procedure on YouTube as well.

Some of my friends were amazed that I watched my father's cataract surgery. I guess they didn't think I had it in me. After all, I'm usually the one who hides her eyes during the scary parts of a movie.

But obviously, the doctor had confidence in the procedure. Because it was offered, I felt it must be a sure thing and many people I know who had undergone the procedure proclaimed it to be a piece of cake.

But I still think it's a miracle. Wouldn't it be wonderful if all our ills were so easy to fix?

How I Wrote Ten Books

The Fiend of White Buck Hall will be published book #10 for me. After getting the contract last week, I took a moment to wonder how I have managed to write ten books. There are writers who produce a lot more and I'm slow in comparison to them, but I really don't think they sleep. :^)

Like the majority of women with families, I am forever juggling the various tasks of living--tossing up one ball and catching another before it falls. Yes, my children are grown, but for those of you who have small children and think life is difficult--just wait. It never gets any easier.

Hubby is retired, but I still have a real part time job that gets me up and out of the house for several hours five days a week, but when I return I have to throw a load of laundry into the washing machine and transfer another load into the dryer.

On my lucky days, I don't have to go on an errand, but more often than not, I do. I have to help out my Dad, or shop for more food, or buy parts for a broken appliance. Once I'm back at the house, I put some form of protein in a pan to brown on the stove.

I turn on the computer, check my email, and fix one paragraph of my manuscript before I check on that browning protein and add some sauce to it.

I talk to Dad on the phone while I'm emptying the dishwasher. I finish talking to Dad and put away the clean dishes before I go back to the manuscript at the computer, but by now my powers of concentration are completely scattered, so I check my email again instead of fixing the manuscript.

I have my computer programmed to announce the hour every fifteen minutes, so I know I have to complete the rest of our supper. I put the computer to sleep, rip open a bag of frozen vegetables and set the table.

Daughters #1 and #3 arrive home from work--late as usual. I ask one of them to locate their father tell him it's time to eat. Lately, he's been busy redoing an upstairs room so he's easy to find.

Daughter #1 cleans up after supper, but now it's time for me to take the dried clothing, fold it, and put it away.

Meanwhile, Daughter #3 is cleaning the bathroom.

Hubby has to check his email on the computer which he and I share. I let him go ahead because after all, I still have plenty to do. I can exercise, sweep, vacuum, or dust. I can organize the photos in the album. (Ha!) Sometimes I have to go out during the evening, but not often.

I never watch television, except for the news. If I'm really exhausted, I will make a cup of tea and read a book. If I have a bit of energy left, I might spend a half hour on the elliptical machine AND read a book.

But most evenings, I will write--even if it's only for an hour. Sometimes, it's more than an hour. That's how I finished ten books. Slowly, but methodically.

If I can do it, anyone can. You just have to plod ahead. Of course, it helps if you have a great story to tell and the characters are annoying you constantly to finish their tale. So you absolutely must help them out. :^)

New Contract!

On Monday I got a contract from New Concepts Publishing for The Fiend of White Buck Hall. It is always thrilling to get a contract, but Monday also happened to be my mother's birthday. So it was nice to have something very special happen that day.

Now I have to work on the art questionnaire for the cover of the book. One of the questions is about the celebrities that the characters resemble. I have a complete image of my characters in my head, but for an artist it is easier to have a visual reference. So I spent a lot of time online searching for just the right faces for my hero and heroine.

I decided that Paul Walker resembles my hero.

I think my heroine resembles Emma Roberts.

It will be fun to see what the cover artist does with my idea.

Resurrect An Old Word Today

One day as I was exercising at Curves, the manager was having problems with the new "Smart" machine. I chuckled and referred to the machine as being persnickety. Granted, I was using personification and giving the machine human attributes, but it surprised me that the manager had never heard that word. She had no clue what it meant. She thought I had made it up.

Hmmmm.

per⋅snick⋅et⋅y:
–adjective Informal.
1. overparticular; fussy.
2. snobbish or having the aloof attitude of a snob.
3. requiring painstaking care.
Also, pernickety.

Origin:
1885–90; orig. Scots, var. of pernickety
Related forms:
per⋅snick⋅et⋅i⋅ness, noun
Synonyms:
1. nitpicking, finicky.

Daughter #1 thought this was a hilarious state of affairs and promptly "borrowed" my word to use at her Toastmasters meeting as the word of the day.

There were lots of people at the Toastmasters meeting that had never heard of that word either.

Yipes!

English is a wonderful language. We have more words than any other language. Check out About English. I know we've stolen plenty of our words, but our language is richer for it. As a writer, I appreciate the variety.

Of course, new words are always coming into being. Language is a living thing. But I hate to see so many wonderful older words fall into disuse.

Please, find an old word and use it. Better yet, find an old word every week and make it part of your vocabulary. Send it out in your text messages. Use it on your Facebook page.

Don't let the old words die.

NJRW Put Your Heart in a Book Conference

Kathy Kulig and I sat next to each other at the Literacy Book Fair and Author Signing at the NJRW Put Your Heart in a Book Conference. Kathy told me all about the experience that sparked the idea for her book, Wild Jade!

The conference was wonderful--as always. The PAN Retreat had plenty of chocolate and wine. :^) I listened to Angela Knight's special presentation, Putting Spice in Your Love Scenes. I attended Kathryn Smith's talk about Sex, Language, and Historical Accuracy. Jennifer Crusie was excellent and so was Robin Perini. I took notes and wrote all over the handouts. Karen Rose was the Keynote Speaker and Allison Brennan spoke at lunch. There were lots of other speakers--including Kathy Kulig--and it was difficult to make a choice as to which workshop to attend.

Free books were available. Free pens, sticky notes, and chocolate were on the promotion table. NJRW gave everyone a flash drive!!!! (The perfect gift!)

I can't wait for next year. :^)

Blogging at Romance Junkies

I am now a contributor to the Romance Junkies Blog! You can see my post at:

http://www.romancejunkies.com/rjblog/?p=593

Check it out. You'll see my newest book cover, too. It's awesome. :^)

My Apple Cake

Everyone keeps asking for this recipe! So I decided to post it here. This is a terrific cake--rich and moist. Everyone loves it and it disappears quickly. :^)

First, peel and cut into medium chunks 4 large cooking apples (winesaps are great for this). Put the chunks into a bowl and mix them with 2 teaspoons of cinnamon and 5 tablespoons of sugar.

Next, in a large bowl mix and beat until smooth:
3 cups flour
2 1/2 cups sugar
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup of cooking oil (canola is good)
1/4 cup lemon juice
4 eggs, beaten
2 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

Using a large bundt pan, pour in one layer of batter, then a layer of apples. Add another layer of batter and finish with a layer of apples on the top.

Bake at 350 degrees for 1 3/4 hours or 105 minutes.

Enjoy!

The Basket Collection

My mother started accumulating Depression glass after my brother died at the age of twenty-five. She assuaged her grief by going to garage sales and buying the lovely colored glass for a dime—or less. It reminded her of youth, I suppose, and it was pretty.

She bought books about Depression glass to memorize the patterns and assess the value of the pieces. She progressed in her collection skills and added Roseville china, and even antique furniture—often refinishing the pieces herself.

When she went into the antique business, people often came to her store and sold her more antiques. When she closed the shop, her basement became a storage facility.

Last year, an auctioneer sold the valuable pieces in my mother’s collection. But there were odds and ends left over—tucked away in boxes or hidden beneath a table.

This past week, I found out that my mother had amassed a considerable quantity of baskets. When my father said he would gather the baskets together, I had no idea there would be so many of them, but I promised to transport them to the Goodwill store.

When I arrived at the house on Wednesday, baskets of every kind and size filed the kitchen and the dining room. I could hardly believe it. Dad and I proceeded to stuff the baskets into my Jeep. There were baskets of every conceivable size and shape: bushel baskets, covered baskets, Easter baskets, picnic baskets, and a massive wicker laundry basket.

Dad apologized though there was no need to do so. I headed to the Goodwill store on Route 18 in East Brunswick feeling conspicuous on the road. Everyone could see the baskets piled high inside my Jeep.

The people at the Goodwill store merely smiled and helped me unload the baskets—bless them.

I kept one blue basket. I don’t know why. I don’t need a basket. I have too many things as it is. Nothing in my house will actually go with a blue basket. Maybe I should spray paint it.

But for now, I’ll just look at it, put flowers in it, and think about Mom.

The Teeny Tiny Wedding Dress

My mother's parents were married in 1919. My grandmother met my grandfather when she was sixteen, but her mother refused to allow her to marry him at that point. He joined the service and came back three years later. Their wedding lasted three days. My grandmother always insisted that she had the most beautiful wedding dress. The large photograph of her in her wedding gown with my grandfather seated beside her always hung on the wall in her bedroom.

As each of her granddaughters grew up, she would tell them at a certain point when they were too big for the wedding dress. Eventually, even my skinny little twelve-year old cousin was too big for the dress.

My sisters and I begged my grandmother to show us the dress--even though we could not wear it. When my grandmother brought it out, we were all horrified. It was crumpled and brown and certainly did not look a thing like the one in the photograph.

When my grandmother died, my mother kept the wedding dress. The other day, my father handed the box with the gown in it to me. I took the dress out of the box and gently placed it on the dining room table. It is so incredibly small. It looks like a six-year old child might be able to squeeze into it.

I knew my grandmother as a short, but plump woman. How delicate she must have been when she was younger. Yet, she bore seven children and lived to the age of ninety. So she was actually rather sturdy.

But you would never guess it looking at the dress.

Our Staycation

This summer we spent the entire month of July at the hospital with Mom. And then we went to Florida to help out hubby's parents. We did not have a vacation.

But we salvaged a few days last week and this week as our staycation. Fortunately, since we live in New Jersey, there are plenty of things to do nearby. We went to Snug Harbor in Staten Island one day. They have beautiful gardens but they also have a fabulous collection of John A. Noble's work. You must go there and see it!

We also visited Morven, the home of Richard Stockton and five NJ governors. It is no longer the governor's mansion--but that's because the dining room is too small. :^)

That same day we checked out Rockingham. George Washington slept there.

We went on the paddle boats at Turkey Swamp park one day for some Vitamin D and exercise. I highly recommend a paddle boat ride to everyone.

We went to Burlington as well to see the birthplace of James Fenimore Cooper. Afterwards I downloaded Red Rover and The Pilot from www.gutenberg.org. I never read those two books.


We also visited the Edison Memorial in Menlo Park. That's a giant lightbulb at the top of the very art deco tower. Beside the memorial is a small, but very nice museum. It is worth a visit.

Hubby and I enjoyed our staycation. I'm glad there are so many things to do and see in New Jersey.

Love Letters

My father is emptying the house--slowly. Every time I stop in, he hands me a bunch of stuff. One of the bags he gave me this week was full of my brother's love letters. What a treasure!

My brother was one year older than me. He was tall and handsome--and there were plenty of young ladies in love with him. Some of them he met while driving an ice cream truck around the county during the summer. Some he met in college. The letters are from his high school and college days--long before he met the woman who became his wife. Married in 1970, he died in 1973 at the age of twenty-five.

Mixed in with the love letters from an assortment of young ladies are a few letters that my brother wrote. Perhaps he decided not to mail them, but to me they are the most precious.

In one letter he wrote, "I can still see your face surrounded by a mist floating above the air, larger than life. Your sparkling, beautiful blue eyes half-closed in a dreamy sort of look. Lips are sparkling in a cream smile of pleasure ad passion. I can't stand it anymore. I'm getting weak. No matter how much I try I can't forget you. Please come back."

In another he wrote, "Venus, my Greek goddess, I do not want to tie you down, or in our slang, pin you. I merely want to see you just to be near your perfection. For how can a mere mortal with his feet anchored to the ground, hold, much less catch, a beautiful goddess such as you who lives among the clouds?"

Yes, I suppose some would consider these letters corny. However, my daughters have gotten emails from young men that say, "U r hot."

It is a shame that letter writing has become a lost art. I am so glad I have my brother's letters.

You Will Get Old

Retiring 1100 miles away from your children is not a rational decision in my opinion. At some point, everyone gets old and debilitated.

My in-laws are 92 and 88. They moved to Florida more than twenty years ago when they could dance the polka all afternoon and then go home and still have enough energy to keep the inside and the outside of their two bedroom ranch spotless. My father-in-law is now legally blind, deaf, has some dementia and a hard time putting one foot in front of the other.

My mother-in-law, saddled with the care of her husband as well as the cooking, cleaning, laundering, shopping, and bill paying is overwhelmed. A call from New Jersey to the Adult Protective Services resulted in getting my in-laws some help. The Cares organization has people who will shop for Mom, help with cleaning, cooking and finances.

Getting my in-laws some assistance has been a blessing, but when Mom is at her wit’s end and doesn’t know what to do we feel helpless.

Our latest visit to Florida was distressing. We wound up taking Dad to the ER.

Yet, my mother-in-law insists she can handle things—she’s a small woman, my father-in-law weighs more than 170 pounds and towers over her. They refuse to move back north. They’ve paid for their funeral and have a mausoleum space reserved.

Hubby asked the APS caseworker for the names of some nearby assisted living places. We checked out several and found one we liked. A few days later, we took Mom and Dad there for lunch.

Dad ate every last crumb of the lunch. Mom ran into an old friend from the Polish club who now lives there. They chatted away in Polish and I breathed a great sigh of relief. So far, so good.

While the visit to the assisted living facility was favorable, there are still plenty of details to iron out.

We had to get back to life in NJ and will try to manage things by phone from 1100 miles away—which we know doesn’t always work.

I felt terrible when we left. Dad solemnly bid me to pass on his regards to our daughters and my father. I got choked up when I gave Mom a hug.

I wish they didn’t live so far away.

Trying

Made a huge effort to get back on track with my writing. Having rainy weather this week helped. I find gloomy days conducive to writing and did actually accomplish quite a bit. I had hopes of finishing the manuscript, but on further consideration there are some plot points that need more thought and there's always tightening to do. The synopsis needs work, too. (I hate working on the synopsis.)

Took Dad to the Surrogate's Office yesterday. The lawyer had sent in all the papers and Dad simply had to sign them and then pay the fee. But Dad still wants to get rid of everything and move into an apartment, so there will be tons of work to do to accomplish that goal. Dad is trying to keep busy but he does look so lost without Mom.

Hubby and I celebrated our thirty-third anniversary yesterday. Hubby bought a new pair of lopping shears--really good ones with gears and long handles--like the ones my sister has. :^) He also bought a 24" hedge clipper. I love it. I asked for these tools because they will make our lives easier. Practical gifts are the best, in my opinion.

I treated hubby to an evening at Allaire State Park. Under the stars, we sat on our lawn chairs and listened to Doo Wop music. The singing group was the Sounds of the Street--and they did quite a few songs a capella with gorgeous harmonies. It was dark so the video did not come out very good, but you can hear the group and they were great! Made us feel younger. :^)

The old songs are the best songs.

Loose Ends

This is a photo Daughter #2 took as two Marines began to fold the flag draped over my mother's casket. Another Marine played "Taps" on a bugle in the distance.

My mother's suffering is over and she is--at last--at peace. But there are plenty of tasks for the rest of us to do.

Yesterday, I helped my father by taking my mother's clothing out of the closet, putting it into bags, and donating it. I did not get rid of all the clothes. There were a few blouses and sweaters my mother never wore--the price tags were still attached.

My father intends to move out of his house as soon as possible. He says it's too big and empty for him. Everyone has advised him not to do anything for at least a year, but Dad is set on getting an apartment.

I know he is getting too old to take care of the house, but I grew up in it. It holds a lot of fond memories for me. I will hate to let it go.

Some of My Mom's Paintings

My mother passed away yesterday. The pneumonia exacerbated her Congestive Heart Failure. She spent her last few days in hospice care. This is a very sad time for my family. My mother was a very special woman. We will all miss her.

Negative Ions

We did not go to see the fireworks this year. My mother has pneumonia and has been in the hospital, so we’ve spent a lot of time going back and forth to the hospital. We watched some of the fireworks on television.

However, the day after the Fourth of July we took a brief walk at Keansburg Amusement Park. That’s me as the face of the Statue of Liberty. I’ve been going to Keansburg since I was a kid—and many of the rides have not changed in the passing years. We put our daughters on all the rides, too, as they were growing up. Hubby and I still like to watch the bumper cars go around. We always laugh and said that’s where our daughters learned to drive. :^)

We walked on Keansburg’s beach after we had seen all the sights on the boardwalk. From the beach there’s a magnificent view of Raritan Bay—a wide sweep that encompasses everything from the Outerbridge Crossing, to the Verranzo Narrows, to Coney Island as well as Sandy Hook.

On a clear day, of course.

But I like the view in the fog, too. Or in the dark.

My mother always said she was getting her negative ions when she went to the beach. Scientists are finding out more and more about negative ions. They are good for us!

For me, a walk on the beach is calming. I love the Jersey Shore.

The Power of a Parable

Last night, hubby and I attended a Tent Revival at St. Veronica's in Howell. St. Veronica's has run this event for 13 years, but it was the first time hubby and I had a chance to be there.

We had a great time! There was good music and the speakers were excellent. The first speaker was Catholic evangelist lay preacher Jim (Butch) Murphy, a master storyteller. He captured everyone's attention and held them spellbound with his story of the Polish pianist, Paderewski, and a little boy. Murphy used the story to illustrate a point, and I know that I will never forget that story--or the meaning behind it. Jim Murphy used a modern-day parable and succeeded in seizing everyone's imagination.

There were tables with Catholic books nearby--the usual devotional stuff, which is good. I have many of those books and have enjoyed them. But there was not one single book of Catholic fiction.

We need more Catholic storytellers like Jim Murphy. We need more parables for contemporary life.

I consider myself a Catholic storyteller. I've written four inspirational novels. My books were published by a small press. Right now there is only one Catholic publisher, that I know of, delving into fiction, Sophia Institute Press. There are plenty of publishers who put out Christian novels, but the Catholics have been lagging way behind for decades. It's very sad.

After Jim Murphy's inspiring talk, there was more music and then Father Halbing, pastor of St. Antoninus in Newark, stepped up to the podium. He is a comedian--a spiritual, verse-quoting, very funny speaker. He had everyone laughing and shouting "Amen."

The entire evening was a delight! I am so glad that hubby and I were able to be a part of it.

Curse or Fiend?

I've been working on book #10, the one I originally titled The Fiend of White Buck Hall. However, now I'm thinking of changing the name. How does The Curse of White Buck Hall sound to you? The Lord of White Buck Hall is out because the book is set in New Jersey in 1897 and at this point in the story I do not want to work up an entirely new biography for the hero. I thought The Master of White Buck Hall might work, but Daughter #1 said people might think it was a book about BSDM, which is most definitely is not.

Any comments or thoughts on the title will be appreciated. :^)

Thanks!