I am a writer.

It's been a year since I've written. There are a lot of reasons why I haven't. First, Doug's mother came to visit/live with us a year ago . . . yesterday in fact. Shortly after she got here, the house we were living in sold. We quickly found a rental that by living in, we could take our time finding a house to buy that would suit the five of us. 

We packed and moved and unpacked in a less than three weeks. I set up an office in that house, that quickly became Beckett's bedroom instead. It was necessary, but it did set me back. Whenever and wherever I tried to write, it just didn't work. In hindsight it related more to me not being in the mindset to do it, rather than not having a place to do it.

In August we went to New York and Pennsylvania. We flew into Buffalo, took the boys to Niagara Falls, stayed with my aunt on my father's side of the family, saw cousins on his side, saw cousins on my mother's side . . . all in two days.  We then drove to Pennsylvania for Doug's niece's wedding, and Doug's father's memorial service and ash internment. We then drove back to Buffalo and flew home. 

Two months later, Doug's mom returned to Florida and with Doug's brothers' help, packed up her belongings and moved here permanently. A week or so after she got back, her furniture arrived. Thus ensuing another "move," getting her settled, organized, etc.

After that, Doug collapsed while on a walk with me, and we discovered he had a corroded aortic heart valve that needed immediate replacement. That was in November. His recovery was swift given the enormity of the surgery, but it still kept me occupied . . . trying to juggle his needs, his mom's needs, the boys' needs. 

Come January we began our house search in earnest. If you've ever looked for a house to buy, you probably know that it is an all-consuming activity. Our lease was due to expire at the end of July and the last thing I wanted to have to do was extend it. 

By March we'd found a house. It doesn't sound like much time, January to March, but I can assure you, it felt like an eternity. The new house went under contract, and we started packing. Again.

We moved in the first week of April, settled the house, and when the snow finally stopped falling at the end of May, we started on the front yard. It has been a major project. We've tackled beds, taken out trees, added a flagstone patio, moved a thousand rocks, put in a drainage bed and probably more . . . that isn't any more interesting that what I've just written.

It is now the end of June. As much as the last year has been the perfect storm to keep me from focusing on writing . . . yesterday was the perfect storm to get me back in the groove.

A series of things resulted in me wanting to hibernate. I'm not good at hibernating, and was quickly antsy. Knowing my hibernation intention was daylong, if not weeklong, I jumped right in.

The first thing I did was write the opening paragraph to the next book in the Crested Butte Cowboy series. I don't want to write that book right now, but I had to get the paragraph out of me. That done, I opened LINGER.

LINGER was the first book I wrote. I started and finished it four years ago. It has gone through so many iterations, as would be appropriate for a beginning novel. Back in May I attempted an edit, but after getting through the first hundred pages, I quit. 

I felt myself hating the book, believing it wasn't salvageable given how many issues there were with the writing, the storyline, the characters . . . everything. What I knew then, but ignored, was I should've taken a short break, a few hours or a few days, and then jumped right back in. I ALWAYS do this. I go back and re-read one of my books, and hate it. A couple days later, I start reading again, and love it. Do I learn? Nope.

Why do I re-read them? Because I write series books. In order to finish the third book in the LINGER series, I need to re-read the first two. I need to get myself in the mindset, familiarize myself with the characters and the stories in order to avoid inconsistencies.

Yesterday I went from hate to love with LINGER. Rather than beating myself up about letting so much time pass, I just kept working. By early evening I had finished the edit. 

When Ballou's bark woke me this morning, I tossed and turned trying to go back to sleep, only to give up. Seven in the morning, can't sleep, might as well get to work. 

It is now almost ten. I've taken a short break to have breakfast, get dressed, start my day, but am now ready to get back at it. I'm on page sixty-two, and so far, I'm in love with this book. The re-read/edit is going much more quickly on this book. In between the first and second LINGER book, I wrote three others in another series. The difference in my writing is evident. There are fewer character/storyline/style issues. The book is flowing just fine, and as long as I don't decide I hate it sometime today, I should be finished later tonight.

And that means . . . I'll be ready to work on book three, the final in the series. Initially the book was set to release in EARLY 2016. That clearly didn't happen, for all the reasons above. My projected release is now early 2017, but I hope it will be much sooner than that, because I have something else I really want to write.

For two years I've wanted to write a Crested Butte Cowboy Christmas book. It will probably be a novella, and it will give me, and my readers, a chance to get back in touch with the Rice and Patterson clans . . . find out how they're doing, and get me back in the cowboy romance spirit. 

It pains me to say this, but I haven't been to a single rodeo or bull-riding event this year. I usually go to the stock show in January. Didn't this year. Cowboy All-Stars, didn't go to that either. I don't remember why I didn't go to Pikes Peak or Bust last summer, but I do know why I can't go this year . . . we'll be in Boston when it takes place. Elizabeth Stampede . . . missed that, which almost broke my heart. It is one of the best small-town rodeos in the country. 

So hear I am . . . a writer again. The last twenty-four hours reminded me that I am. I'm not stopping now. I refuse to let months and months go by again without writing. In fact, I refuse to let days go by. I am committed and I am determined. I am a writer.

Thunder, Lightning and Aunt Dorothy on Hemstreet Road

I spent a lot of time with my grandmother's sister Dorothy and her husband. My grandmother called her Doe, but I never called her Aunt Doe, always Aunt Dorothy. She always called her husband Edmund, but I never called him Uncle Edmund, always Uncle Ed.

I remember being at my great-grandmother's house on Hemstreet Road. It must've been a holiday because we were in the front room. The doors were never open to the front room unless it was a holiday and lots of people were in the house. It was a stormy day, raining hard with thunder and lightning. We have spectacular storms in Colorado, but none seem as much so as they were at home. 

Aunt Dorothy and I were standing by a window when a particularly loud clap of thunder immediately followed a bolt of lightning. I know it scared me, but I can't remember whether I said so out loud, or if she just asked me if I was afraid of the storm. I know I was. "I was too," she told me. "Until one night Edmund and I sat in his car, watching the lightning and counting the seconds until we heard the thunder." She told me then that the number of seconds were equal to the number of miles the lightning was away. 

I don't remember how old I was when this took place, but my guess is I was under five. I always think of my Aunt Dorothy when there is thunder and lightning, and that quiet, special moment we shared. It may not seem like much, but my grandmother's sisters rarely told "personal" stories, especially to my generation, unless they were funny. I remember lots and lots of funny stories, and lots and lots of laughter, but very few quiet, special moments like that with my aunt. I miss her so.

Retained Serendipity

Doug and Frank have returned from California. Frank's luggage has not. As I anticipated, his luggage is full of new stuff, most of which he probably purchased on Melrose. He's bummed, and freaking out a little. Not because of the new stuff, but because his retainer was in his luggage. 

After wearing braces a year and a half longer than they originally told him he'd have to wear them, the idea of being without his retainer for several days while a new one was being made, not to mention the $500 price tag of the new set, had him in quite a tizzy.

He called the orthodontist, unbeknownst to me. When I called, she said, "oh, is this for Frank?" Four telephone conversations back and forth between them and me, and then Frank and me . . . resulted in a happily serendipitous discovery. His doctor wanted to know why he took BOTH retainers with him. He only had one set, he told me. They hadn't called him to tell him the permanent set (the $500 version), were in yet. Sure enough, they're in the back justing waiting for him to pick them up. Yay! 

Hoping still for found luggage . . . asking the universe to please cooperate. Glad it already took care of the retainer.

My Garden

We jumped in with both feet in terms of landscaping, etc., at the new house. It actually boggles my mind that we've gotten as much done as we have in the short amount of time we've been here.

We've completely redone the front left bed, including ripping out an Aspen trunk, extending the bed, taking out one Japanese Burberry and moving another. We planted a tree, several grasses, some shrubs, and flowers. We took out 10,000 pounds (it felt like one million pounds) of red quartz rocks, and Doug has been working on levelling that area, and prepping it for a flagstone patio. 

I attacked one yucca plant, pruning it and giving it its life back, only to decide to rip them all out due to what the roots do to sprinkler systems. There are two (that have also been cleaned up), at the end of the driveway that will be spared, since there are no drip lines down that far, or on that side. The rest that scatter our property have been pruned down as far as I can get them in order for Frank to dig them out when he gets back from California.

Also in the front, we took out two big yarrow plants. We weren't exactly sure what they were, but they weren't making it. Most of the surface part of the plant was dead, with mini-shoots sticking out of it. What we thought was going to take a few minutes when we decided to dig them out, turned instead into a two-day project. Yarrow and Yuccas. Both my enemies. Why nurseries sell yarrow is beyond me. It is a Twilight-Zoney plant that spreads and takes over your entire garden. I hate it. That's probably clear.

We changed the size and shape of another red-quartz-rock filled bed, moving big rocks along with another million pounds of little rocks. Fortunately we decided to dig out the right side of the driveway, so it matched the left side of the driveway, which is also filled with red quartz rocks. By doing so, it gave us a place to put the rocks we took out. Good thinking whoever thought of that (me, it was me that thought of it). It also helps with drainage, which was an issue on that side of the driveway.

When we changed the shape of the bed, we took all the rocks out that surrounded a couple of pine trees. We'll be putting a flagstone walkway near that area, that now is planted with shade-loving plants. It looks really beautiful.

We also dug out the dead plants from a raised bed on the side of the house, which is where I planted vegetables and herbs. There isn't much planted, because there isn't much room, but it gives us a start. I planted tomatoes, peas, cucumbers, zucchini, onions, lettuce, radishes, oregano, chives, cilantro, parsley, thyme and dill. It will be a learning experience to find out what makes it and what doesn't. 

None of it seemed to be doing much, which was making me nervous. With the exception of the peas. However, in the last couple of days the zucchini has sprouted new leaves, lettuce and radishes are peeking through the earth, and I swear the tomatoes have grown (a little). I planted it all twelve days ago . . . so I'm not sure if I'm being impatient (again), or if my little plants are floundering. Time will tell.

My sweet peas have not broken through the earth yet, but I have seen a few leaves in the pot where I planted sunflowers. Keep in mind we couldn't plant anything until the end of May, between snow storms and late frosts. That's the other thing I need to remember when I'm feeling impatient. 

It'll be interesting to see what works and what doesn't with the other things we've planted around the house. I'm sure five years from now, the various beds and gardens will be looking more the way we'd like them to. And ten years from now it will all be amazingly beautiful. 

As with everything else, this blog serves as a reminder to me about how quickly things seem to pass in hindsight, regardless of whether we're waiting to close on a house, or harvest our first tomatoes.