Poor Miranda has been put out to pasture for three years and she is tired of doing nothing. She talked to us and demanded that we clean her up!
We were planning on having our Dawta sleep in her while she is visiting us. She gently told us she needs a bath and some deep cleaning inside before she would let anyone stay in her bedrrom. We listened to her because she is bigger than us!
Today we are cleaning the inside and outside of the cabinets and in the living room. We have cleaned the bedroom, enough that she smiled at us and said, “Good Job!”
Well, gotta go, she is calling us to come to bring her down for more sprucing up. If you see her, tell her how much prettier she looks.
The picture of her and us is the day we signed papers to adopt her as our best friend.
Creating worlds, characters, and wielding power like a madwoman, making my characters happy, sad, angry, and some of them with no redeeming qualities. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I sometimes laugh out loud when I am writing a scene, and I have been known to cry when one of my favorites has to die.
I am a left-handed Gemini, what do you expect?
Reading bedtime stories to my two children until they fell asleep or until they just told me to go away, was fun. Making up wild stories for my grandchild, and creating Halloween costumes from Cowboys to a Dragon, was another favorite thing to do. I missed that so much when they were grown, that I started writing.
My yearly newsletters frequently were drafted third-person by my Love Birds, Miranda our motorhome, and by Sir Fit the White Knight, our faithful Honda.
Throughout the years, some of my creative talents centered around writing letters of complaint expressing my displeasure with services or products. One crucial, at least to my Son, was a note to our local school bus driver petitioning her to allow him back on the bus. He was kicked off for making an obscene gesture at his buddy. I reminded her that it was not directed at her, and that “obscenity can be in the eye of the beholder,” kids use that gesture as a greeting. He rode the bus until he graduated.
I loved driving my English teacher crazy. Leaving a “continued next week” at the end of my five handwritten pages required each week. He was one of many people that suggested I “do something about my writing.”
I graduated from the School of Hard Knocks at the top of my class.
After 30 years, in the trenches as a Real Estate Professional, I have found that truth is stranger than fiction. My books are filled with characters I met in that profession. Their names were changed to protect the guilty. Others were from people we met traveling around the country in Miranda, our Motorhome.
I am married nearly 60 years to the love of my life, Shirl, and partner-produced two exceptionally talented children, and one grandchild who is our pride and joy.
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