tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12695539696014231482024-03-13T00:43:27.909-07:00A Writer Called WandaFollowing my dream and living life!Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.comBlogger205125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-77192278769788858782021-09-17T12:46:00.002-07:002021-09-17T12:46:23.981-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Another Story From The Hood<p style="text-align: center;"> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmT9i0aWBxCfilPPfK5i4J0fPxIH0vaVZwdng5UX-yVQlpFhKz1Qub2Gd9mGZbnc2HsrxNuv4eomBSHdBWqI8D_yKz4vFOSdMTQJvgx_jKwD5tp9OwCRjiZCGx_pntpqzLJ2UNtd0Ofvg/s1600/Imagen271.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmT9i0aWBxCfilPPfK5i4J0fPxIH0vaVZwdng5UX-yVQlpFhKz1Qub2Gd9mGZbnc2HsrxNuv4eomBSHdBWqI8D_yKz4vFOSdMTQJvgx_jKwD5tp9OwCRjiZCGx_pntpqzLJ2UNtd0Ofvg/w150-h200/Imagen271.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've missed posting the last couple of weeks. Why? Well, since I retired, I lose track of my days. They all just kind of melt into each other. Usually by Sunday I realize I missed Friday somehow. Today I remembered what day it is. Congrats brain. Anyway, here's another story from the hood where I used to live. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One night after dinner and a couple beers at my favorite watering hole, I pulled into my driveway. My headlights illuminated what appeared to be somebody sleeping on my front porch. I always entered my house by the back door, so I got in safely. I cracked open my front door and sure enough some guy was laying on my porch. He had his head propped up against my storm door like it was a headboard. I closed the door and called 911. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"What's your emergency?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"There is a man sleeping on my front porch."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Is he breathing?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"I don't know." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Is he bleeding?" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"I don't know and I'm not going to check."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I lived just a block from an ambulance station so that's who they sent. I cracked my door again so I could listen. They shone a spotlight on him and shook his shoulder. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Hey man. Wake up."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Leave me alone. I'm tired."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"I understand you're tired, but you are trespassing on somebody's property. You can't stay here."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He slowly sat up and a beer can rolled off him onto the porch.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"How many beers have you had?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Just a couple."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Uh huh," the other attendant muttered.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He shielded his eyes from the spotlight still shining on him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now, it just so happened the television show COPS was filming in my town.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Am I gonna be on COPS?" He sounded rather excited. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The ambulance attendants could barely stifle their laughter. I covered my mouth because I had to giggle.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"No man, you're not going to be on COPS. You need to get up and move on down the road."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Okay, okay. Where's the nearest Brown Derby, man?" (that is one of our area liquor stores and one was located a block away - which was one of the reasons my street was so popular with boogins) The ambulance attendants gleefully told him where it was.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">He stumbled down the street, probably to find another porch to sleep on. I doubt if he had money for more beer. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I sure miss the hood.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-43871373756258005572021-08-27T15:13:00.000-07:002021-08-27T15:13:58.433-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: Inspiration<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uWMy-2gCvR_8F1ligj9gq9cf0TuZD0YV5UAwLKFEvLTyr9KOYMULP9b9hoE_4RtPBdZU0_Ke-wbK65BhYX8dzjj9GN5Qu1k9YNj-pNCpgPQdugvJfMSbODEPweSmyjmZr5-CIeElKDc/s2048/file000614090004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uWMy-2gCvR_8F1ligj9gq9cf0TuZD0YV5UAwLKFEvLTyr9KOYMULP9b9hoE_4RtPBdZU0_Ke-wbK65BhYX8dzjj9GN5Qu1k9YNj-pNCpgPQdugvJfMSbODEPweSmyjmZr5-CIeElKDc/w272-h188/file000614090004.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">Last week I mentioned in my post that I use to live in a crappy neighborhood. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I miss that place.</p><p style="text-align: center;">As a writer, inspiration comes in many forms. That neighborhood was full of stories. I had low windows so I could see out them while sitting in my recliner. And man the things I saw. The windows in my new place are higher so sadly, I don't see as much stuff. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I've decided to share some of the shenanigans I saw at my old place on this blog. </p><p style="text-align: center;">This first one involves the people directly across the street from me. (many of my stories will involve them)</p><p style="text-align: center;">This family consisted of an older couple and their early 20ish son who had an anger problem. One day I heard the son yelling at his mother to give him the keys to the car they all shared. She apparently was refusing. He came outside and slammed the storm door over and over until it came off its hinges, all the while yelling at her to give him the keys. She still refused. He then proceeded to go around the house beating on the windows. </p><p style="text-align: center;">He went to the back porch and hit that storm door window until it shattered. He was barefoot. Not good. A neighbor, apparently fed up with the yelling, called the police. I would never do that. I was having too much fun. The police called an ambulance to treat his many cuts. He refused their help, all the while still yelling at his mother to give him the keys. </p><p style="text-align: center;">And guess what? When it was all over, she gave him the keys. Way to go mom. </p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-48965555886621197442021-08-20T16:30:00.000-07:002021-08-20T16:30:05.691-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: TOO HOT/TOO COLD<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1R2RPvQX0RpFHu03UNe_YJQbrCkUKuJhZWMqeVqqHgPzhQb4nT67Pv9rlchG2Fv5Z2PqS9ar361Y4im82zcyjt0O1iiBAnLmYvXLUrb95XT22IlWtvViqtn-CjSozj21JOwiF2h-Al0/s2048/IMG_0080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA1R2RPvQX0RpFHu03UNe_YJQbrCkUKuJhZWMqeVqqHgPzhQb4nT67Pv9rlchG2Fv5Z2PqS9ar361Y4im82zcyjt0O1iiBAnLmYvXLUrb95XT22IlWtvViqtn-CjSozj21JOwiF2h-Al0/s320/IMG_0080.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I don't like air conditioning. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I grew up without it and I'm a summer person. I like it hot. For the past 17 years I rented an older house in a crappy neighborhood and it didn't have central air or heat or even a window unit. And I was fine. I enjoyed opening my windows in the spring, letting in the fresh air. I had a couple of ceiling fans and window fans. I worked in air conditioning during the hot part of the day. If the heat was unbearable during the weekends, I would go hang out at Panera Bread or the Library. And it really never stayed unbearably hot for too many days in a row. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I really never worried about having my windows open until the last few years. The neighborhood was going downhill with lots of homeless people wandering around and several shootings. And I'm pretty sure my son wasn't happy with the situation. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Last year, my landlord (an elderly lady), told me she wasn't going to be able to rent anymore. So, I started looking for a new place. </p><p style="text-align: center;">My new apartment is great and it has air. Because I am getting on in years, I appreciate it more than I use to. This old body doesn't handle heat as well as it once did. But, be warned. You will probably be sweating if you come visit. I keep it on 80 degrees. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I really, really can't stand being cold. </p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-86556299260916819302021-08-13T12:31:00.001-07:002021-08-13T12:33:42.604-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: Book Signings<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRhvrm06sl283e-1UIZ4xzDKaISmxLn8n-02Eu5itI5atEghyphenhyphenBU6Bn2XXNRvPyNxt2gbhCGr5704oMn2CXdU8-rt5EAgci3Jp1TcdinKX2W2ATf3hffxNCUJhSqtZHVrN7AQzfycFANg/s2048/4f3c7a4c7e0e03eb96e30fb99b3e157b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrRhvrm06sl283e-1UIZ4xzDKaISmxLn8n-02Eu5itI5atEghyphenhyphenBU6Bn2XXNRvPyNxt2gbhCGr5704oMn2CXdU8-rt5EAgci3Jp1TcdinKX2W2ATf3hffxNCUJhSqtZHVrN7AQzfycFANg/s320/4f3c7a4c7e0e03eb96e30fb99b3e157b.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"> I don't like doing book signings. There I said it. (Hiding under my desk until the storm passes)</p><p style="text-align: center;">"What?? But, you are passing up the opportunity to meet your fans and sell some books." </p><p style="text-align: center;">Uh, I don't have any fans except for a few friends and family. I also hate small talk. And I don't like sitting at a table smiling at strangers while they pick up the free candy and bookmarks I have scattered around. And then they move on with barely a glance at my books. I feel like I must give off a smell of desperation. "Please kind person, buy my book I slaved over for years. I know you'll love it as much as I do." </p><p style="text-align: center;">And my bank account will enjoy the meager amount I will profit from a sale. That last sentence is meant as a joke. There is no money in writing anymore, unless you are Stephen King or Patterson or some celebrity with a juicy memoir people want to read. </p><p style="text-align: center;">And then when it's all over, I end up packing up the same number of books I brought. But not as much candy or bookmarks. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Maybe I would feel different if I showed up and there was a line out the door waiting on little old me. </p><p style="text-align: center;">But, I doubt it. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I'll keep writing and self publishing, but don't expect to see me sitting behind a table.</p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-52567926151697812622021-07-30T16:55:00.000-07:002021-07-30T16:55:20.854-07:00<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4YpyCf3pozKU6XJGe9INmTNFe5J8lvhg6OFFr7gyHvkg65QZ4uf0FnN-_461hUj_4Y71wxoahxQyjXLiVfxLCXbQJ_HU9-_uUQU86-dnvk4R-fb_Bfj4YNZKpfdURe2W6ZWHXqEg3iQ/s2048/22a055a31adf7fa9b1a5aef09c770d35.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4YpyCf3pozKU6XJGe9INmTNFe5J8lvhg6OFFr7gyHvkg65QZ4uf0FnN-_461hUj_4Y71wxoahxQyjXLiVfxLCXbQJ_HU9-_uUQU86-dnvk4R-fb_Bfj4YNZKpfdURe2W6ZWHXqEg3iQ/s320/22a055a31adf7fa9b1a5aef09c770d35.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">So, as I posted earlier I am trying to finish a novel I have been working on for years and years and years.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I was doing well until I hit the spot I always hit. The place where I tried to finish it over and over and over. </p><p style="text-align: center;">This is the result of attempting to finish it during National Novel Writing Month when you try to write 1668 words a day. For those of you who don't write - that's a lot of words coming out of a writer's imagination. And most of it is crap and doesn't have any kind of flow.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Until this point, my novel was pretty good, IMHO. But now it meanders all over the place. ARRGGHH</p><p style="text-align: center;">This is the problem. Writers hate to delete their words. What if they lose a pearl of wisdom or the one part a publisher will drool over. </p><p style="text-align: center;">So, now I'm stuck trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle. I hate jigsaw puzzles. </p><p style="text-align: center;">But in Gloria Gaynor's words. "I will survive". And so will this story. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-48096805080978070602021-07-16T16:41:00.000-07:002021-07-16T16:41:50.275-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: WTF<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1EwWu5nuKD6ZFGiXM9Uet02ZK8Wiup7zkUgBTDYLAsqUiOdWJ7H-t6K7cPbeZmnQ2N27VktIxDi35S6IaHuu50ppcKhZPfphU6AcyLsNZAhYh4R66QfuLMc8eBVaVV_bTNXLfFzggro/s2048/3a0fa9c0880571d6f1e3ff6fb9be0d6c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1395" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi1EwWu5nuKD6ZFGiXM9Uet02ZK8Wiup7zkUgBTDYLAsqUiOdWJ7H-t6K7cPbeZmnQ2N27VktIxDi35S6IaHuu50ppcKhZPfphU6AcyLsNZAhYh4R66QfuLMc8eBVaVV_bTNXLfFzggro/s320/3a0fa9c0880571d6f1e3ff6fb9be0d6c.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p> <a href="https://morguefile.com/">Morguefile.com free photographs for commercial use</a></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">I just want to give this bunny a hug, but I can't because of social distancing. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I'm sure I am not the only one experiencing pandemic fatigue. </p><p style="text-align: center;">This is not what I expected in my retirement. I retired June 2020 when the pandemic was just a few months old. What I heard then from "experts" was this would last about a year, especially if we got a vaccine. Then everything would be back to 'normal'. I could spend time with my son and grandsons. I could spend time with friends. I could hang out without a mask at my local pub and baseball game. </p><p style="text-align: center;">A year and almost six months later, we are currently in a major surge. Thanks Delta. </p><p style="text-align: center;">My part of the country has been in the nightly news almost every night this past week. Yep, I live in the backwards Ozarks. I used to be proud to be born and raised in this part of the country. Not so much now. How did we become so stupid. Missouri is the Show Me State, meaning you have to prove things to us. But even though science has proved it, and hospitalizations have proved it, and deaths have proved it, many of my fellow citizens have kept their blinders on. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I'm tired. I'm vaccinated but that doesn't matter now. Because so many people aren't, I am now more vulnerable. Not to mention my 5 and 2 year old grandsons.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Other countries would love to have even one free vaccine. We have three. What a selfish nation we have become. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-77860158848761014522021-07-09T16:30:00.000-07:002021-07-09T16:30:17.115-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: SPEAKERS<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbRh5obBd-lQEOP19PuYW1rY9Rx1q8Kg7ABszZCTrgUEHRpcxblPvJnlXJw8-lTUmWKpt4WjGjV2BlsAHGEyrtw60QL5aYmT-8ujcjSAB-JhTDUu4LSHL5b-dadmcdelrPUCaGkHTBns/s2048/9dc35a655ccc42aa492ea0fbd2cac6d7+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixbRh5obBd-lQEOP19PuYW1rY9Rx1q8Kg7ABszZCTrgUEHRpcxblPvJnlXJw8-lTUmWKpt4WjGjV2BlsAHGEyrtw60QL5aYmT-8ujcjSAB-JhTDUu4LSHL5b-dadmcdelrPUCaGkHTBns/s320/9dc35a655ccc42aa492ea0fbd2cac6d7+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Disclaimer: I don't know who this speaker is. </p><p>I picked this picture as a generic example. </p><p>I hope he was well received. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://morguefile.com/">Morguefile.com free photographs for commercial use</a></p><p>Have you ever looked forward to a speaker either at a conference or a writer's group and been disappointed? </p><p>I was a victim of this. One of the writer's groups I'm in, scheduled a well known person in the area to speak at our meeting. I was very much looking forward to hearing this person, and learning details of their profession which might give me some insight into my storytelling. What I heard was nothing what I expected. </p><p>This person was so pompous and ate up with themselves, it was <span style="background-color: white; color: #111111;"><span style="font-family: times;">nauseating</span></span>. They used their time to tell us how smart, how successful, and how religious they were (which I don't understand what that had to do with anything). No time on procedure or insight into their profession. Questions were never answered directly, but twisted around to point out again how important they were. (or thought they were)</p><p>I left there very disappointed. I try to take away something from every speaker I hear. What I took away from this: I will never waste my time attending one of this person's presentations again. </p><p>Thankfully, most speakers I've heard have been both informative and approachable. And I much appreciate their insight and encouragement. </p><p> </p><p><br /></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-82472236064126489592021-07-02T14:56:00.001-07:002021-07-02T16:05:14.140-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: Time For Camp<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSZ97RycLjRR0kUKSxXMVAmrGvXTu7x4UGVE3gaJ7RzNJ88GnRvHPNRBG_-SGrrycmn-02-z_VigKw5X5fwjM9pionWul3uwJ1ReGVzxblJ32WvzLrxIXFw_5uB2nST-JjBi4L_dRrOw/s2048/e7ceb23ea6d88eabbf63f1104aa0a77e.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1689" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSZ97RycLjRR0kUKSxXMVAmrGvXTu7x4UGVE3gaJ7RzNJ88GnRvHPNRBG_-SGrrycmn-02-z_VigKw5X5fwjM9pionWul3uwJ1ReGVzxblJ32WvzLrxIXFw_5uB2nST-JjBi4L_dRrOw/s320/e7ceb23ea6d88eabbf63f1104aa0a77e.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> I'm camping this July.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Before you ask where and when and how, let me explain.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">National Novel Writing Month has what they call "Camp" in April and July. Instead of the 50,000 word goal they want you to write in November, you can do whatever word count you want. You don't even have to work on a novel. It can be a memoir, short stories, non-fiction, even a screenplay.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have been working on a novel for at least ten years. I start, I stop, I start, I stop. I read through what I have, make notes, jot down ideas, and then nothing. It's a story I feel strongly about. It comes from a dark place. Putting my mom in a nursing home. A horrible time of my life. I have fictionalized it as a young woman coming back home after ten years to bury her mother. It explores her present and her past. I think it's a good story. I have roughly 40,000 words. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A few years back, I submitted the first chapter in a contest and won second place, so I feel like I have something worth finishing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My goal this month is to add at least 10,000 words. Right now I'm reading through it again just to get a feel for the characters. I really want this first draft done so I can move on. I feel it is holding me back from other work because every time I start something new, I think about this unfinished work.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Wish me luck! I definately need it. </div><p></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-20742083799079479922021-06-25T12:06:00.000-07:002021-06-25T12:06:36.110-07:00REBOOT<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjemXSINPsO_PMIoU3XFoAqnIDefmG2kaTDsYrS7HE9_bak7cN9LvrrMbPUTeK3TWFanGnsGTB2iVg7xzVvH83mZmo6hWSjWpPN9NNNSwaQTiTvVZuZ4kcw-nMxCu4BUaq8uXcek7jRpJ0/s2048/2abd503d3fac0c9b3900b4adacc45178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjemXSINPsO_PMIoU3XFoAqnIDefmG2kaTDsYrS7HE9_bak7cN9LvrrMbPUTeK3TWFanGnsGTB2iVg7xzVvH83mZmo6hWSjWpPN9NNNSwaQTiTvVZuZ4kcw-nMxCu4BUaq8uXcek7jRpJ0/s320/2abd503d3fac0c9b3900b4adacc45178.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">I'm attempting a reboot. It's been at least a year since my last post. Not that anybody noticed. </p><p style="text-align: center;">It's been a rough year, hasn't it. Luckily, I haven't lost anybody close to Covid but, we've collectively lost over 600,000 American souls. Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents. Gone. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I'm vaccinated but still nervous about being around people. Took a chance the other day and went for an oil change without my mask. It wasn't crowded there, so that alleviated my fears some. </p><p style="text-align: center;">Honestly, I've become somewhat of a hermit. I've been retired a little over a year now. I thought I would spend more time around writer friends and at my local hangout but that hasn't been the case. Of course, the lockdown was to blame at first. But now I use my disability as an excuse to stay home. I am dependent on a walker and driving really hurts my knees. Anybody who lives with pain know these are legitimate reasons to not want to do things.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I'm an only child, so I'm quite use to being alone. Doesn't bother me most of the time. What bothers me is . . . I'm not writing either. You would think with all this time at home I would have cranked out at least one book. Nada, nothing, zilch. My excuse . . . desk chair uncomfortable, no ideas, Dateline is coming on. Not good reasons. </p><p style="text-align: center;">So, it's reboot time baby. </p><p><br /></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-72576245740483555482020-11-13T14:56:00.000-08:002020-11-13T14:56:14.349-08:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Bear Of A Year<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdVD2ZFl0ESuEw-gcGVYWw3-nkagSbxjIsbZyq-1OtBLuYL4WVuG5GHZO37wjlVADIOFboq8iy-fyh9IaaCvw3nc3ls-7In3KahXc5x1aujyfszKzGcJfQtjg7bNRmBdU1uTloYUEhzw/s1897/6420074da0bfec563e1f72da819b918d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1897" data-original-width="1486" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdVD2ZFl0ESuEw-gcGVYWw3-nkagSbxjIsbZyq-1OtBLuYL4WVuG5GHZO37wjlVADIOFboq8iy-fyh9IaaCvw3nc3ls-7In3KahXc5x1aujyfszKzGcJfQtjg7bNRmBdU1uTloYUEhzw/w218-h217/6420074da0bfec563e1f72da819b918d.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">This has been a bear of a year. I think we can all agree on that. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I remember when 2020 started and we were all laughing at the videos of Barbara Walters saying "This is 2020." Now, I'd like to kick her in the teeth. </p><p style="text-align: center;">So much sadness and uncertainty. I admire people who have made the best of this. The small business owners who have managed to find ways to survive. The parents managing to work from home and at the same time, school their kids. The doctors, nurses, and first responders who have kept fighting this disease, sometimes against impossible odds. The scientist working so very hard to save us all. </p><p style="text-align: center;">These times have certainly brought out the best in people and the worst. But, somehow we have managed to keep our heads on and muddle through. </p><p style="text-align: center;">None of us know when things will be better. Everybody says they want normal again. Not sure the normal we knew a year ago will ever return. But, maybe, just maybe, a new normal will emerge that is better, more kind, and more patient. </p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-39746953612801430682020-10-23T10:30:00.000-07:002020-10-23T10:30:54.224-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: Where Is It? <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KZQZa-slNbE7Qo11vCQLIyw4i-kHeB-bQe5wgC9lhHZFV4ERXysu3gTl61n4VQiVOcZ-PiPlW6fPXcg8JcdxPzJS8oE-1IDvj-w9ybbhW5-JR2Ta-FfT4FncyF8sG197Zu0Mu20KLdQ/s2048/b9bd75c3795a0c56aa179698fa6e0a71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-KZQZa-slNbE7Qo11vCQLIyw4i-kHeB-bQe5wgC9lhHZFV4ERXysu3gTl61n4VQiVOcZ-PiPlW6fPXcg8JcdxPzJS8oE-1IDvj-w9ybbhW5-JR2Ta-FfT4FncyF8sG197Zu0Mu20KLdQ/s320/b9bd75c3795a0c56aa179698fa6e0a71.jpg" /></a></div><br /> I thought this picture was funny. Here is this soldier searching for something in the distance and the bird seems to be trying to help him. <p></p><p>What are they looking for? Perhaps the bird is just looking for fish to eat. The soldier is probably on the lookout for the enemy. Or, maybe not. </p><p>On a more spiritual level, they could both be looking for a purpose to life. Or somebody to love. Or friendship. </p><p>Maybe, like me, they are hoping to find inspiration. It's out there somewhere. </p><p>Actually, I found inspiration this morning while having breakfast with some of my writing buddies. I am thinking of writing a cozy mystery for NaNo this year. I'm a big fan of Murder She Wrote so, I thought, why not. I was having a hard time figuring out what my setting should be and they helped me decide. </p><p>I'm going to keep this inspiration to myself for now. But, stay tuned. </p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-19005055059501255982020-10-16T15:39:00.000-07:002020-10-16T15:39:46.359-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Cooking<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTasziVxdtXWybrgy1HMjLE28zlSr7Rl6yiRNtR2_HIvI8gmnJA9acemID8enB3UKcBpG5ysbcEQNEVeX-z8wwPDQkCNbhpaHZ4oyvBlF6MqNFbnXyHvYTQebYbnzUuoURnlcvBJ5_Zc/s2048/SDRandCo+%252876%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1463" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTasziVxdtXWybrgy1HMjLE28zlSr7Rl6yiRNtR2_HIvI8gmnJA9acemID8enB3UKcBpG5ysbcEQNEVeX-z8wwPDQkCNbhpaHZ4oyvBlF6MqNFbnXyHvYTQebYbnzUuoURnlcvBJ5_Zc/s320/SDRandCo+%252876%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Are you a good cook? Do you enjoy cooking? </p><p style="text-align: center;">I am not and I don't. I just never seemed to move past the simple fried foods, lumpy mashed potatoes, and canned veggies. Even when I followed a recipe, it always seemed to fall short. I managed to feed my family for over 20 years but, none of my dishes have been passed down to their families. My husband was a pretty good cook, but he worked two jobs so I didn't feel right asking him to step in a lot. His mother passed her cooking skill down to him. She could make a dirty dishcloth taste good.</p><p style="text-align: center;">I can remember my grandmother cooking on her old farmhouse stove. Throwing this in and that in, never measuring anything. And it all tasted wonderful. </p><p style="text-align: center;">My mother, on the other hand, worked outside the home. We ate a lot of canned goods and frozen dinners. I don't blame her, but that was my training ground. My dad was a cook during WWII and would occasionally cook a big pot of chili or stew. And I do mean big. It was like he was still cooking for a platoon. And it was just mom and me. </p><p style="text-align: center;">My daughter had a homework assignment to make an ABC book all about food. For H, she picked Hamburger Helper. That pretty much summed up my culinary wizardry. </p><p style="text-align: center;">I think you need to have a chemistry degree to be a good cook. What spices go with this food? All purpose flour or self rising? What is the best way to cook a steak, etc? I still don't understand the difference between baking soda and baking powder. </p><p style="text-align: center;">So, if you ever come to my house, don't expect any homecooked meals. In fact, if you want to eat, you should bring a pizza.</p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-8012355882641008592020-10-09T11:29:00.000-07:002020-10-09T11:29:45.255-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: Weird Times<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4nTYUJWqyHmDvuswFLw8_NOpgplJGc-Q0IzF8wncpRD2efNL4d2A6acRMKNPONyoFZ84WsVhPcESAtFg548XDp3B2SlBbUi5fvHmG_TExmCVFwVOUuWSyIOvGoQca-8SlVzW0H11cRlY/s1920/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4nTYUJWqyHmDvuswFLw8_NOpgplJGc-Q0IzF8wncpRD2efNL4d2A6acRMKNPONyoFZ84WsVhPcESAtFg548XDp3B2SlBbUi5fvHmG_TExmCVFwVOUuWSyIOvGoQca-8SlVzW0H11cRlY/w219-h192/008.JPG" width="219" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> I used to collect teddy bears. If I still did, I would adopt this one. He looks lonely. And worried. Kind of like a lot of us during this weird time. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I know a lot of people adopted pets to help them through quarantine and beyond. That's not for me. Not that I don't like animals, I just don't want to take care of one. I have a tough enough time taking care of myself. The feeding, the walking, the grooming is all so tiresome. I don't want double duty. Plus pets die eventually. I've seen many people really tore up when their pet dies. I don't need that sadness in my life, especially now when the world is filled with it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But, a teddy bear would be the next best thing. I could cuddle it, pet it, talk to it, take it on car rides. And, the only care it needs would be an occasional dusting.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Amazon, here I come. </div><p></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-79830885367769891932020-10-02T07:52:00.014-07:002020-10-02T10:39:25.886-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Ideas<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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Writers are often asked "Where do you get your ideas?" <div>
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I don't like this question because, frankly, I have no clue. Literally no ... freaking ... idea.</div>
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Just coming up with something to write for this blog is difficult for me. </div>
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And to tell you the truth, I don't come up with tons of ideas for stories or novels. There are authors out there that have notebooks full of ideas. Visions and stories that seem to float down to them from the heavens. I'm not one of those lucky writers. </div>
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I hate them. 😏</div><div><br /></div><div>I use writing prompts sometimes. Anything to spark my imagination. But even then, I don't know where the story will lead me, if anywhere. One site I use quite a bit is <a href="https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/">https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/</a>. There are also books full of ideas. Just go to Amazon and type in 'writing prompts'. </div>
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After I finish my current novel, I have two others I started during National Novel Writing month. At least those ideas are already formed and just waiting on me to do something with them. Sorry about the wait characters. I'll get back to you soon. </div>
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Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-14039119952035333602020-09-25T11:09:00.000-07:002020-09-25T11:09:39.701-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY: Dream Catcher<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_ccd6dXN4RZKBg1f2qkbq6kL2MRy4uVu61sTfkpFouO-ZrYs3xxn0uweESVZ-usJxkNuo5dwhnfkEzTnf3R3A3vOo8n4QFBm4oqGzINGZk3eiTG90OMZZ8o3-tc3x3K9DlbaLisKwnc/s1328/5814e8cd66baea3236e3beefb4837747.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="996" data-original-width="1328" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_ccd6dXN4RZKBg1f2qkbq6kL2MRy4uVu61sTfkpFouO-ZrYs3xxn0uweESVZ-usJxkNuo5dwhnfkEzTnf3R3A3vOo8n4QFBm4oqGzINGZk3eiTG90OMZZ8o3-tc3x3K9DlbaLisKwnc/s320/5814e8cd66baea3236e3beefb4837747.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dream Catchers</div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: times; text-align: start;">What are dream catchers? The following description is from PowWows.com. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: times; text-align: start;"><i>In many Native American tribes, a dream catcher is a handmade willow hoop woven to a web or literally, a net. A dream catcher also includes such features as feathers and beads. They are traditionally suspended on cradles as a form of armor and protection.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: times;">I use to have one hanging over my bed. I considered it a protection against nightmares. Who wouldn't want to have only sweet dreams? </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: times; text-align: start;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: times; text-align: start;">But, if you think about it, life is a mixture of nightmares and sweet dreams. We need both to have balance in our our lives.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: times; text-align: start;">There have been reports that during this pandemic, we are dreaming more. I believe it! There is so much new, unpleasant, and unexpected stuff happening now, our brains are on overload. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: times; text-align: start;">Have you ever tried interpreting your dreams? I have a dream dictionary that gives the meanings behind certain visions we have in our dreams. What you think is a deep, dark pit full of snakes, may represent something completely different. Our brain is an amazing machine and I tend to think when we are dreaming, it is just trying to connect the lose dots of our lives.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: times; text-align: start;">Next time you wake up from a dream, write it down and see if you can connect some dots. You may just find an answer you've been searching for. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-7384939610040574472020-09-03T11:49:00.000-07:002020-09-03T11:49:58.771-07:00COURAGE<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVl9gLkBOLhDVsnbwWU2qxmdOMCA_i5jkU3L27k7GxPNy4vhvP8KwB1q5-bRhW8ePxlj2A-vqePmQMSI_29VqVmtfOfiO7MpwcraoWl38WAbkcxc-BPO_ksSkLcz94JbFHQK3iyZTe2B0/s1920/20200828_164753.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1614" data-original-width="1920" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVl9gLkBOLhDVsnbwWU2qxmdOMCA_i5jkU3L27k7GxPNy4vhvP8KwB1q5-bRhW8ePxlj2A-vqePmQMSI_29VqVmtfOfiO7MpwcraoWl38WAbkcxc-BPO_ksSkLcz94JbFHQK3iyZTe2B0/s320/20200828_164753.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> I'm really not one for inspirational messages, but this was one I picked up at a thrift store as I was starting my journey as a writer. Plus, I really liked the picture. Who doesn't love a penguin? This image doesn't do it justice. The colors are deeper and richer than they appear here. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It says: <b>Courage is daring to take that first step, or a different path. It is the decision to place your dreams above your fears. </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;">At the time, I was hoping to quit my day job and write novels for a living. That never happened. Let's face it, making a living as a writer is near impossible unless you are Stephen King or Nora Roberts or a celebrity with a tell all book. There just aren't as many publishing houses offering new writer contracts with lucrative advances as there used to be. And being single, I depended on a steady income.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But, I still had the dream of writing and publishing a novel. And against all odds, I did.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I recently found this picture after unpacking some boxes from my move. I immediately placed it on my desk. I want to write more novels, but somewhere along the line I lost my courage. Now is the time to reclaim it. </div><p></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-37363956938793230822020-08-18T09:24:00.002-07:002020-08-18T09:24:57.953-07:00Meet Wilson<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTznYKVACz4O8cFbdGWTakKbrUaCbTREs0V05a2fGOnrabUEKQhjUdJeaRYK41qBZ-pGKPNE5X3xune_kGHlLGLrr_TTKSBCuP8YEwLh2guzdm0Q4eTF5Q7nzP7ZfBT5xQRUmpSaEApQM/s684/93375323_10217101355474730_3583031610049560576_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="606" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTznYKVACz4O8cFbdGWTakKbrUaCbTREs0V05a2fGOnrabUEKQhjUdJeaRYK41qBZ-pGKPNE5X3xune_kGHlLGLrr_TTKSBCuP8YEwLh2guzdm0Q4eTF5Q7nzP7ZfBT5xQRUmpSaEApQM/w232-h262/93375323_10217101355474730_3583031610049560576_n.jpg" width="232" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Say hello to Wilson. He was my buddy during the first couple months of Covid-19 quarantine. </p><p style="text-align: center;">He was one of my grandson's toys and as far as I know, he had no name. I gave him the name Wilson in honor of the Tom Hanks movie Castaway. Because, I certainly felt like I was lost on a desert island, adrift in a sea of unknowns. The most of which was, when is this going to end? Unfortunatly, we still don't know the answer to that. </p><p style="text-align: center;">At first when work shut down, I was happy. Didn't have to go to work? Yippee. But as the first month dragged on, it became less of a vacation and more of a jail sentence. I missed my co-workers, (well some of them). I missed the structure of a schedule. </p><p style="text-align: center;">So, Wilson and I went on a few field trips. We went to the park several times. I took him to the parking lot of my old hangout that was now closed. I showed him the house I grew up in and my elementary and high schools. Somehow getting out of the house, even while staying in my car helped. And, Wilson helped, as crazy as it sounds. He was there. He listened. He looked at me with his big eyes urging me to get out of my recliner and exercise. And, no I'm not crazy. My mother had me tested.</p><p style="text-align: center;">What have you done to make it through this trying time? I would love to know.</p><p style="text-align: center;">Until next week, stay safe and healthy.</p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-35281125987398300952020-08-12T12:35:00.000-07:002020-08-12T12:35:23.560-07:00WHAT'S NEXT??<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_IlT2Ik6n0lyN_jT4GLcLemshxVo8-6TQSWzR9I7mQ1bQfwopGBG4HwbRx0I585wxkRiFdhEvR_dVjzJ6JD2Hf_I2nR9ccKX9LFXUkVXC9tqeOEUdbfAw0PPO0Pl8pZEiG_LtvOY1724/s2048/fee4c09946ceaecb1b68928cc044c6c5+%25281%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_IlT2Ik6n0lyN_jT4GLcLemshxVo8-6TQSWzR9I7mQ1bQfwopGBG4HwbRx0I585wxkRiFdhEvR_dVjzJ6JD2Hf_I2nR9ccKX9LFXUkVXC9tqeOEUdbfAw0PPO0Pl8pZEiG_LtvOY1724/w328-h219/fee4c09946ceaecb1b68928cc044c6c5+%25281%2529.jpg" width="328" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've been asking myself that question quite a lot lately.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Having recently retired, that question pops into my head on a daily basis as I try to figure out what direction my life needs to go now. Or, does it even need to go anywhere?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And then there is Covid-19. Man, has that changed things. The above picture reminds me of the toilet paper shortage that occurred at the beginning of this pandemic. Who could have believed people would hoard toilet paper. Blew my mind. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I've also heard there is a big event coming up this fall. Some sort of an election? Just kidding. It's probably one of the most important elections in modern history. And when it's over, we will all be asking "What's next?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As of right now, my 'next' is starting up this blog after a much too long absense, dedicating myself to working on my next novel, and reading more. All the while trying to avoid getting that damn virus so I can enjoy my retirement years. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Until next week, stay safe friends. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-6830403058125558482017-04-21T08:11:00.000-07:002017-04-21T08:13:19.503-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Progress<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">https://morguefile.com</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Writing a book is like solving a crossword puzzle. The words have to fit or you spend all your time erasing wrong choices. That's not to say first drafts aren't a mess, but the more you can figure out the first time through, the less complicated re-writes are going to be. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I've actually added a few words to my second book,
Coming Home. Yeah! I'm not going to tell you how many, because it's pretty
pathetic, but for me it is progress. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I figured out a plot problem. How do I keep my
heroine in town long enough for stuff to happen between her and the hero? In
Beyond the Horizon, Katie's car broke down and she was forced to spend time
with Josh. While car problems are a common occurrence in most people's world, I
didn't want to use that again. I've been racking my brain trying to figure it
out. And, of course, the answer came to me in the middle of the night. Luckily, I remembered it the next morning, which doesn't always happen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now, all I have to do is write it. But, that's
really the hard part. Last night after working at my day job, I went to bed at
7:30. That's how tired I am. I am taking Monday off, so here's to hoping I will
sit my butt in chair and write. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-67203539145846965372017-04-14T16:12:00.000-07:002017-04-14T16:12:13.264-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Nice People Work Here
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">This Friday, I want to dedicate my blog to all the
wonderful people I've met in bars. I don't mean the occasional sloppy drunk, but the
people who work in bars and restaurants. The ones who can put a smile on my face and a beer in my hand. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="150" src="https://cdn.morguefile.com/imageData/public/files/a/alvimann/preview/fldr_2010_02_22/file3001266876276.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://morguefile.com/">https://morguefile.com</a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I've been divorced for seventeen years now and am
still single. Instead of sitting at home by myself all the time, I seek out
nice bars to hang out in a few times a week. I've called several different
places 'home'. The first was Applebee's. I made friends with all the bartenders
and most of the wait staff. One in particular – Johnnie – became more like a
son to me. We could talk to each other about anything. I would give him advice
and he would do the same for me. Unfortunately, he moved away and I moved on to
another hangout. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That's the nice thing about bars. They are kind of like churches. One on every corner. You just have to find the right one for you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The next place, I not only made friends with the
staff, but also many of the regulars. We became family. I still hold several of them
near and dear to my heart. But, alas, I left there when the new owners and I didn't see eye to eye about the treatment of the staff. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My current home is Bair's. It's a little sports bar
and grill located on the edge of the largest college in town. Everybody has
welcomed me with a smile, and once in a while a hug (which is nice). In fact,
the bartender last night gave me the idea for this post. Mikaela is awesome.
She knows who she is and she is confident in what she does. She has even helped
me with housework, since my knees limit me. She calls me 'dad'. Don't ask.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Most of these hard working people I've met and made
friends with are twenty somethings, going to college, and just getting started
in life. They are interesting and fun. Or as my parents would say "They are the salt of the earth." Talking to them keeps me young. So, as
long as I can climb up on a bar stool, I'll keep making friends. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-58047729975720171732017-04-07T06:07:00.002-07:002017-04-07T06:07:47.393-07:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Writing and Worry<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Recently, a fellow writer friend asked me if I was
okay because I hadn't been posting on this blog. Bless her heart. I told her I
was tired and the political climate right now had me upset. Perhaps you are
thinking what does that have to do with writing? Well, as long as I'm worried
about my future – when can I retire, will Social Security be there, and what about health insurance – it is
difficult to think of anything to write. Inspiration is hard to come by when you are mired in a cloud of doubt. I guess I really shouldn't worry.
Trump will probably get us all blown up anyway.</span></div>
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<a href="https://cdn.morguefile.com/imageData/public/files/m/mindexpansi0n/preview/fldr_2008_11_28/file000152294891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://cdn.morguefile.com/imageData/public/files/m/mindexpansi0n/preview/fldr_2008_11_28/file000152294891.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">I did sign up for April Camp NaNo. My intent is to
finish the first draft of my second book. But first I needed to read through
what I've written so far. I had to get back into the character's heads and
remind myself of what I'd plotted out and decide where I need to go. I should
finish reading it today. Here's to hoping I can put aside my worries long
enough to return to my true passion – writing a story. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">And on a bright note, a co-worker read my book Beyond The Horizon and LOVED IT! Made me very happy. </span></div>
Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-3098467973111123122017-02-03T06:10:00.001-08:002017-02-03T06:10:45.686-08:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - New Book! <div style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;">
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Please welcome another talented author friend of mine, Samantha Holt. She writes wonderful historical romances that will captivate you from the very beginning. Her new release, When A Rogue Loves A Woman, debuts next week. Enjoy this preview and be sure and enter the Rafflecopter give-a-way at the end of this post. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVktBWOISaxX48rYNYvqJlgUGgputub3-TiUJT13U5j20v160tG0NEOYvTrs2xIN0KfsQgM0j3cA57Vvt6CjmTAL1WxUhoK_4mxM2JqFFhv6ol-4rgYjwVSo6O09k0_4_mdkRdvzfJGA/s1600/whenaroguelovesawomanmed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVktBWOISaxX48rYNYvqJlgUGgputub3-TiUJT13U5j20v160tG0NEOYvTrs2xIN0KfsQgM0j3cA57Vvt6CjmTAL1WxUhoK_4mxM2JqFFhv6ol-4rgYjwVSo6O09k0_4_mdkRdvzfJGA/s320/whenaroguelovesawomanmed.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">When a Rogue Loves a Woman<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Rogues of
Redmere book 2<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Notorious
rogue, Lord Nathaniel Kingsley always tended to leap without thinking. Becoming
a smuggler, adopting a sheep, getting engaged to Miss Patience Grey….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Patience
has no need for a fiancé, or a husband. For once in her life, she wants to
prove she’s just as good as a man and she does not need Nathaniel Kingsley
getting in her way. With her brother injured, it is up to her to continue her
family’s work…and that means tracking down a French spy and ensuring said spy
will turn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Unfortunately,
no one believes she can do it alone. Which is where Nathaniel comes in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Nate
is happy to be of service. Why pass up the opportunity to repay an old friend,
especially with a little intrigue along the way? Find the spy, play escort to
Patience, return home to continue smuggling. Easy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Or
at least it would be if the stubborn Patience would let him do his job. The
breeches-wearing woman is determined to do it all alone and, he has to admit,
there’s something quite distracting about a woman in men’s clothes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Can
he keep his attention from her long enough to complete their mission and
persuade Patience to let him do his job and protect her? A job he’s beginning
to find he’s enjoying a lot more than he thought he would…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";"><strong>Available
from Amazon and all other vendors for 99c for release week.<o:p></o:p></strong></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Amazon: <a href="http://amzn.to/2jQOfOJ">http://amzn.to/2jQOfOJ</a></span></div>
<br />
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Other
vendors: <a href="http://books2read.com/u/4N1lL6">books2read.com/u/4N1lL6<o:p></o:p></a></span></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Excerpt<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> “There
would have been many a heartbroken lass had you really been engaged,” Drake
said. His grin grew wicked. “I was looking forward to offering my comfort and
condolences.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Nate
shook his head and ignored his friend’s jest. Instead he turned his attention
to the ale in his hand. It would be his last for a while. He’d need a clear
head for what was to come, especially if he was to keep that minx under
control. If her own mother could not make her wear a dress, what chance did he
have? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Either
way, he was looking forward to the challenge. Smuggling was all well and good but
they had only gone out once in the past month and all had been quiet. No
excitement to be had. He was rather looking forward to the chance to indulge in
some espionage and adventure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Of
course, Jacob Grey was aware of their illicit activities. Being a government
agent had meant they had helped him before. He was one of the few residents of
Penshallow who quite understood who was behind all the smuggling that took
place in their small fishing village. Most thought Knight the face of it—the
big, brooding, scarred hulk of a man opposite who spoke only when absolutely
necessary. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">At
present, Knight’s attention was on something near the bar. Nate flicked a
glance over but could see nothing of interest. Only the usual overly drunk
patrons gathered while Louisa, the innkeeper, worked her hardest to keep up
with demand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Other
patrons littered the room, gathered around small tables. Some had cards in
their hands while all had drinks. The Ship Inn was not the most savory of
places but it was out of the way and the food was good. Not to mention Louisa
was uncannily good at ensuring the customs men never came near the place. She
had saved their skin many times and they repaid her help generously, ensuring
she had a good supply of excellent French wine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“You
were a damned fool, signing up for this,” Nate’s brother said, thrusting a
finger at him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
was I to do? You were off enjoying yourself with Hannah. Far too much it
seems.” His brother’s gaze darkened and Nate immediately ceased any idea of
talking of Red’s fiancée. Hannah was currently installed in lodgings in the
village while they awaited the license for their marriage and to finalize all
the details. His brother was, unbelievably, utterly in the love with the woman.
It was not such much the woman he had fallen for that surprised Nate but that
his brother had the ability to fall so heavily for her. Red had always been too
busy to think of love or even marriage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Drake
leaned in. The captain fixed Red with a slight smile on his lips. “Face it,
Red. While you were distracted by petticoats, Nate held down the fort. I don’t
blame him for offering to help, after all, are we not in this to help the
crown?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Since
when are you so noble?” Red demanded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Since
I have a pocket full of coin,” Drake said smugly. “Things have been going
uncommonly well of late. I don’t see why Nate cannot help Jacob Grey and be
back in time for our next outing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Uncommonly
well?” Nate’s brother lifted a brow. “After Knight’s illness and the storm that
near tore your ship in half, you were complaining of curses. Now you think
things are going uncommonly well?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Knight
glowered. The giant of a man sat with his arms folded, a great scowl etched
upon his face that in some lights looked as though it could be made of granite.
Were it not for being friends with him, Nate would give him a wide berth. The
man looked like trouble and, potentially, he was. No one really knew anything
about him apart from the fact he was useful muscle and a damned hard worker.
Though Nate suspected there was something more under that silent exterior. What
that was, however, he was not sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It
was not an illness,” Knight protested.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Drake
laughed. “You vomited on my boots, Knight. What would you call it?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Knight
fell back into silent mode and glowered some more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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</div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">About
the Author<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<a href="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41vqBoLvNvL._UX250_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Samantha Holt" border="0" class="ap-author-image" height="200" src="https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/41vqBoLvNvL._UX250_.jpg" width="166" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Samantha
is a full-time author who lives in England with her twins girls and a dachshund
called Duke. When not writing, she loves to explore stately homes and castles
around the country. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 22.7pt;">
<span style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Find Samantha on her website <a href="http://www.samanthaholtromance.com/">www.samanthaholtromance.com<o:p></o:p></a></span></div>
<br />
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</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Rafflecopter:<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">Link:
<a href="http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/MDYzOTU4N2QzM2ZmMDcwZDVjNmU4OGE2Mjk0NjkwOjIzOA==/?">http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/MDYzOTU4N2QzM2ZmMDcwZDVjNmU4OGE2Mjk0NjkwOjIzOA==/?<o:p></o:p></a></span></b></div>
<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "book antiqua" , "serif";">
</span></b></div>
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Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-89760087850129854892017-01-27T09:08:00.000-08:002017-01-27T09:08:12.812-08:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Direction<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3z1yIWV_lQShIyPBXYQUaLhBm4SF7SUHOP81QI22gDA0uni13Oc8-XJ_SMtxyMCsy99nicX8oYHSO6EQz5Nh3oDfJe26OzwzyZMSM78wjpmaAPgIhD1ThnZKlbU4iZer8hREPYJA67Zk/s1600/mf690.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3z1yIWV_lQShIyPBXYQUaLhBm4SF7SUHOP81QI22gDA0uni13Oc8-XJ_SMtxyMCsy99nicX8oYHSO6EQz5Nh3oDfJe26OzwzyZMSM78wjpmaAPgIhD1ThnZKlbU4iZer8hREPYJA67Zk/s200/mf690.jpg" width="144" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">https://morguefile.com/</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I've been giving a lot of thought lately about the direction this blog should take. I think I would like it to be more than just my rambling thoughts. The problem is, I'm not an expert at anything, except - according to my son - griping.<br />
<br />
I've had many jobs in my life, but not a profession. Well, except the few years I was a dental assistant. But, let's face it, who wants to read a blog about that?<br />
<br />
I've worked in a Hallmark shop, a hot dog stand, a thrift store, and a factory. I've worked at Bass Pro Shops - headquartered in my home town - twice. For the last seventeen years, a government desk job, pushing papers. I've had flea market booths.<br />
<br />
None of those jobs make me qualified to hand out wisdom or advice about anything. <br />
<br />
Of course, I've written and published a book. One book. Well, two if you count my short story collection. By no means does that make me an expert.<br />
<br />
If you have any suggestions for this blog, I would greatly appreciate it.<br />
<br />Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-27025869326481855982017-01-06T11:46:00.000-08:002017-01-06T11:46:50.759-08:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Big Plans and Lists and Such<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="160" src="https://cdn.morguefile.com/imageData/public/files/m/Marinapriest/08/p/b3b650e3f1e0e88ccec3e45c13b168b6.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://morguefile.com/">https://morguefile.com</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So, last week I promised I would let you know what resolutions I have already given up on. I actually didn't officially make any. I've muddled things over in my head, but I haven't written anything down. If you have ideas in your brain, but nobody is there to hear them, do they still make noise? <br />
<br />
I have hopes. Yeah, let's go with that. <br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>I hope I can finish and publish another book. I have three drafts. Surely I can complete one of them? Of course to do that, I will need to actually write.</li>
<li>I hope I will write. </li>
<li>I hope I can start a freelance career. I got the idea a few months ago when I wasn't sure about the future of my day job. I've spread the word some, but I still have a lot to learn and obviously I need clients. </li>
<li>Get back to being consistent with posting to this blog. </li>
</ul>
That's pretty much it. In order to accomplish any of these hopes, I will need to be less lazy. Which reminds me, I need a nap. <br />
<br />
What are your hopes this year? I would love to know. Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1269553969601423148.post-75051508491523718982016-12-30T06:59:00.000-08:002016-12-30T12:41:21.267-08:00FRIDAY STIR FRY - Out With The Old<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="147" src="https://cdn.morguefile.com/imageData/public/files/d/duboix/preview/fldr_2010_05_31/file6681275324828.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">https://morguefile.com<br />
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</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
I want to blow up 2016. </div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
I know a lot of people are saying what a horrible year it's been, especially with all the celebrity deaths. But, let's face it, famous people die every year. There's more to the hatred I have for this year than that.</div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
Here is my list. </div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
</div>
<ol>
<li>My health took a turn for the worse. Chalk it up to getting older. Body parts are wearing out. I spent a week in the hospital in the spring going through a whole litany of tests. Diagnosis - a-fib. Not a death sentence, but something I have to deal with on a daily basis. Then in June I had oral surgery to remove a growth from the roof of my mouth. Fun stuff. </li>
<li>The horrible shooting in Orlando at Pulse Nightclub. Of course, it wasn't the only one, but perhaps the worst. When are we going to reach some kind of common sense with our gun control laws?</li>
<li>Terrorism. Nice, France, Germany and other places. I will never understand the minds of people who murder innocent souls to prove some political or religious point. </li>
<li>Aleppo. How can you look at that death and destruction and not have your heart bleed for those people? </li>
<li>Fires and floods. California, Tennessee, and Louisiana. So much destruction and loss of life. But, hey, climate change isn't real. Please.</li>
<li>This year's election. What a disaster. The mud slinging, the e-mail crap, the pussy grabbing. There has to be a more civilized way to pick our elected officials. And, the results don't give me a "peaceful easy feeling" to quote the late Glen Frey and the Eagles.</li>
<li>And if all that wasn't enough - the Cubs won the World Series. WTF</li>
</ol>
According to my son, I'm too negative. I guess I just proved his point. I've never been a glass half full kind of gal. I'm more fill it back up with some booze and let's try again. 2017 can't be worse, can it? Maybe we should all knock on wood, hang horseshoes over our doors, and keep our fingers crossed. And don't forget to eat your black-eyed peas.<br />
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
Next week I'll tell you what New Year's Resolution I've already given up on. </div>
<div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;">
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<br />Wanda Kayhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04546619638124455609noreply@blogger.com1