My Novels

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Postman always rings twice

This is an entry to remind myself of what happened yesterday when I was painting at the house where I'll move soon. DH and I lived there 25 years, so moving back is like going home.

At any rate, I installed a wireless doorbell (which I'd used here) at the back porch fenced gate a couple weeks ago. The front doorbell is wired into the house, has been there ages.

Yesterday I was painting in the bathroom when I heard the back doorbell ring. At first I thought it was the front doorbell, so I hurriedly went there. No one was at the door. Then I realized it was the back doorbell, but when I got there no one was around.

Thinking it had been a salesperson on foot (since there was no car around) I went back to painting. Within fifteen minutes, the back doorbell rang again. I rushed to the back gate, but there was no one standing on the carport. I went out, looked all around the house, the front and sides, but nothing, nada. NO ONE COULD HAVE DISAPPEARED THAT FAST.

I went back to painting, and half expected to hear it ring again. However, it never did. I just dismissed it, but was still puzzled. I thought it might have been some kind of interference in the wireless signal -- although I had no other wireless devices in the house.

Last night of course, my imagination got the better of me. I concocted all kinds of weird, supernatural scenarios. Certainly it was wireless interference, or some other unknown problem because there was simply no way children and/or person could have disappeared that quick. You'd have to see how the house is situated to understand that, but the back gate off the carport is especially difficult to maneuver around quickly.

I sure hope this is NOT the start of freakish electrical situations -- of the kind experienced at the old farmhouse leading up to DH's death. But I did want to record this here as a reference for the future.

P.S. No, it wasn't the postman; mail delivery is late afternoon, and I saw him later as I was sweeping off the driveway.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Wish I'd written this...


After awhile you learn the subtle difference
between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn't mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats with you head up and your eyes open.
With the grace of maturity, not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on
Today because tommorow's ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After awhile you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong
And that you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn and learn ....
With every goodbye you learn.

-Veronica A. Shoftstall

Thursday, November 05, 2009

About my writing...

Lately, it's done in fits and starts. Still, at least I AM trying to write on my novel almost every day.

Here's a quote by Peter Rock that defines the world of writing:

“A good writing day is any day where a piece of the clock is given over to the invisible people. In the past I was spoiled, and often had hours and hours to write; now the writing often happens when I wake up and can’t sleep at two in the morning or at five, before my daughter wakes up, or fifteen minutes on the bus, or half an hour pretending I’m not in my office with all the ways the visible people can reach me turned off, shut down, disconnected.

“I want to believe and to travel. Sometimes a good writing day is an hour of madly scribbling, vistas opening up ahead and inside, landscapes and synapses of some person rushing at me, and the whole rest of my waking day I carry that like a charm, knowing there’s more and that I’ve been in touch with the invisible again; sometimes a good writing days is ten minutes of crossing out a paragraph or adding a comma; sometimes a good writing day is half an hour of daydreaming with not a word to show for it.

“There are no bad writing days; even those that seem the worst are leading us onward, only in ways that were not expected, perhaps even slower than we believed we desired."