A Time for Family and Friends by Betsy Ashton

We've officially arrived at THE HOLIDAYS. Be you Hindu or Buddhist, Christian or Jew, Muslim or agnostic, nearly everyone gets together over THE HOLIDAYS with family and friends, share a meal or a drink, exchange presents, enjoy the season.

Alas, for too many, the season is fraught with arguments over politics. I heard from so many friends that their families didn't check their politics at the door, thus leading to loud arguments and one actual fist fight. I frankly am burned out on politics and can't wait to wave goodbye to 2017.

Another alas comes in when stress mounts and people allow themselves to be overwhelmed. I used to be one of them. I was a Martha Stewart wannabe. I decorated my home to the nth degree, wrapped more presents than anyone needed, baked and cooked more food than we needed, all to collapse the day after Christmas into a puddle of cleaning, self-pity, and exhaustion. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't turn my home and family into the Brady Bunch decorated by the indomitable Martha.

My family wanted a quiet day, a gift or two, a decent meal, and people who weren't stressed. They finally got it.

I turned in my Martha card and took out membership in the Martha Stewart Never-Be club. I set aside three days to decorate my house. What's not in place at the end of those three days goes back in the garage, Maybe next year. Maybe not. I like the way the house looks and smells. I like to cook, but I don't overload the table. Usually, holiday meals are my husband and me, and maybe a couple of friends. Gone are the days of 25 people sitting down to eat in my house.

How did I manage this? Well, it was easy: My husband and I moved 500 miles away from most of the family. We make the drive to New York for an annual "Between the Holidays" luncheon at a restaurant equally convenient for the locals up there. Terry and I host. We enjoy good conversation, good food, and no clean up afterwards.

The grands are part of this "Between" party. We deliver gifts and enjoy watching them open just ours. If we were there on Christmas Day, we'd have about five minutes before they would be carted off to other family members. We're selfish. We like a day alone without competition.

When we get back from New York, we are home for at least eight weeks. No travel, no appointments, no nothing but what my husband and I want to do.

I hope you all enjoy your holidays in your own way. If you like political arguments, this is one year when there is plenty of opinions to go around. If you like peace and quiet, may you find it.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year. See you in 2018.

Serenity and Serendipity by Margo Hoornstra

Nadine Archer is the Queen of Snark. She’s a character created by my CP Jannine Gallant. I borrowed Nadine to include in a couple of the stories within my self-published anthology

SATURDAY IN SERENDIPITY

A twenty-year high school reunion in Serendipity, Vermont

changes the lives of former classmates and leads to unexpected futures.

Here are some of Nadine’s more distinctive appearances when she runs rough shod over the sign in table at the Saturday night Dance of the reunion.

***

Three Strikes Thursday

“Sign in! Sign in!” Molly McCarthy stood beside Nadine Archer behind the registration table. Talk about opposites. Molly was as sweet as cranky Nadine was sour. Their friend waved them over with a generous sample of her trademark Polly Anna smile. “Barry!” Eyes wide, smile grown wider, she hustled around the table the moment she laid eyes on him. “Last night was so much fun. And now we get to have even more.” She enveloped him in a fervent hug he gladly returned. “I’m so happy you’re back home. Have I told you that?”

“Not since last night.” He straightened with a smile as she released him.

“And Amanda.” Molly went on without missing a beat. “It’s always good to see you.”

“You too.” She smiled as Molly bestowed another eager clinch. “Always.”

Two on Tuesday

“Blane! Over here. You need to sign in.” Caught up in the perpetual exuberance of Molly Carter, class Polly Anna, Blane stepped up to the registration table and smiled. “Write yourself a name tag.” Molly pointed to the one she wore over her right breast. “Like this.”

“Thanks.” Smiling, she picked up the felt tipped Sharpie.

Molly had married Ned McCarthy from their class. Blane didn’t remember much about him except how their senior year Ned was voted Most Responsible. From out of nowhere, jealousy of the life Molly must have reared inside her.

“When you’re done with the name tag, move on to join the festivities.” A beaming Molly trilled, oblivious to a distasteful glance from the woman beside her, Nadine Archer.

Her Snarkiness Extraordinaire. Blane remembered Nadine well. Especially when she commanded Molly to bring it down a friggin’ notch with the rah-rah. Nadine was always such a bitch. Exchanging sly looks, both Blane and Molly looked elsewhere, choosing to ignore her.

“It’s so much fun having all of you back home here for the weekend.” Molly streamed a bright yellow highlighter over Blane’s name on what appeared to be a class roster.

Blane enhanced the smile Molly had brought out of her with a small laugh. “This is turning out to be fun.”

***

I’d like to channel Nadine for a few moments to snark out my own frustrations. But first the set up.

A native of Detroit, I now live in the relative peace and quiet of rural America by choice. As some of you know, my husband and I are avid walkers. Each day, we try to log at least two miles, five if we’re particularly ambitious. Our usual route takes us through Main Street in ‘downtown’ where vehicular traffic is minimal at best, out to the peace and quiet of a recreational area and lake a couple of miles from our house. There we join like minded individuals as we stroll along a dirt path and into the seclusion of a small forest where we might catch glimpses of deer grazing and birds singing, swans gliding.

Are you sensing a pattern? Out here in the country where we live, serenity and stillness are the norm.

However…

When you read this, out here in rural Michigan, we will have survived another onslaught of visitors for yet another weekend festival of some kind the city fathers and mothers see fit to burden us with each year. In the name of enriching local businesses, particularly a couple of bars, (the reality is the local treasury usually ends up just the opposite), they allow the intrusion of Ferris wheels, Tilt-a-Whirls and the like in our City Park. Heavy food carts on our newly paved streets. Late night fireworks that always upset our dogs and those of our neighbors. Disturbs our sleep and makes it rough the next morning.

Litter and grease spots remain in the streets when they leave. Tire tracks mar the grass in City Park. More debris out at our treasured recreational area.

I’m reminded of a bumper sticker I saw once when I was a visitor myself out of state. It read: Welcome to Florida, Now Go Home!

My thoughts exactly. There’s a reason we don’t live in the city, Folks. If you so love being out here, buy some property and join us permanently. You’re welcome for that, and we’d be glad to have you. Just remember, we’re here for the peace and quiet. You should be too.

I wonder if those in Serendipity feel the same as I do. Do you?

My days to blog here are the 11th and 23rd. For more about me and the stories I write, please visit my WEBSITE

White Space and Silence

I am a writer. I am a reader. I am a wife. By extension, I am a multi-tasker. With all that is going on in my life, I long for white space and silence.

Open a book, preferably a novel. Look at how the words are laid out on the page. Do you see long sentences, blocks of text in dense paragraphs? Or do you see punchy dialogue, action instead of dialogue tags, single word sentences? Given my druthers, I'd druther have short and punchy instead of dense text no matter how skillful the writer. When punchy and dense combine, I'm happy as a pig in, well, you get the idea.

I once wrote a paragraph that went like this: "Cope."

Nothing more. Punchy. Pithy, Brief. In that one word I hoped to evoke a sense of finality, of surrender, in an argument. Before and after that paragraph were a series of short sentences. I gave the reader a place to breathe, to sit back and relax. After an intense scene, I as a writer needed to step back too.

White space on a page works for me the same way silence does. My favorite time of day is that half hour before dawn when the only things awake in the world are birds and me. I live where I'm generally far away from traffic, unless it's jet skis on the lake where my house is. But, that's the stuff for other posts. Maybe.

I need silence to meditate and write as I start my day. Silence encourages me to clear my mind of any leftovers from the day before. At times I lie still in bed, concentrate on my breathing and relax. When my feet hit the floor, I'm off and running.

I seek silence throughout the day. I need a screen when I write, because my pen doesn't move as fast as my fingers do on the keyboard. I don't need distractions. I don't always need to know what's going on in the world, much as I would love to keep CNN on. I'm an unrepentant news junkie.

I don't need to check in with Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn or Goodreads. (Now that I have a board on Pinterest, I guess I need to add that to my list of places I don't need to go every minute of every day.) Friends may whine when I'm off FB for several hours. They'll have to cope, because I can't be online with them and still hit my deadlines for my novels.

So, if I'm out of screen touch for a few hours, I'm writing or editing or meditating. I'm not ignoring you. I need time for me to get my work done. If you can't wait until I'm back online, I have only one word for you.

"Cope."

###

Betsy Ashton is the author of Mad Max, Unintended Consequences, and Uncharted Territory, A Mad Max Mystery, which is now available in e-book at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.