The Chaos of July by Diane Burton

July has been a chaotic but delightful month. Last month, I wrote about how our lives were changing. As with most things, we've had the good and the bad. Our house, which is a nice size for two of us, expanded with the addition of our Arizona family--our son, daughter-in-law (5 months pregnant with twin boys), and Toddler Girl, along with a Great Dane and a Labrador Retriever. We haven't had a dog in over seven years. Amazing how loud they are when neighbors dare to walk down the street, or kids play or walk their own dogs. The dogs do help when solicitors come to the door by barking so loud I can't hear, and the solicitor stumbles away from the door.

Within a little over a week, our son and DIL went to work. How fortunate for them, their employers had places for them. DIL is able to work from home. She's taken over my office, which I don't use to write. They've hired a sitter to watch Toddler Girl part-time while Hubs and I fill in. Meanwhile, their house in AZ sold, and they searched for a house here. Last week, they found it. Hopefully, all will go well with the purchase and they'll be able to move in at the end of August. I'm so happy for them. Not that I want them to leave, but we all like our own space.

The good part has been the time with our granddaughter. She's a delight, and she's two. I saw this definition on Facebook. It's right on.

Toddler (n.)

Emotionally unstable pint-size dictator with the uncanny ability to know

 exactly how far to push you towards utter insanity before reverting to a lovable creature.

I could wax poetic about what it feels like when she crawls up on my lap and gives me a big smile . . . then reaches around me for my cell phone so she can look at pictures of herself and her cousins and play games her indulgent grandmother loaded on said phone. Her vocabulary increases daily. Besides "phone" her favorite word is "iPad" (which also has pictures and games). Another wonderful moment was when DIL asked if I wanted to go with her for an ultrasound. Would I? Wisely, she didn't get between me and the car. What. A. Thrill. Seeing those babies in real time is a miracle. The tech was wonderful as she pointed out a foot, a leg bone, a spine (which I kinda figured out), and the appendage confirming gender. Watching the heart beat! On both of them! I can't even begin to describe my feelings. Awe. Wonder. (Where's my Thesaurus when I need one?)

That all has been the good which overshadowed the bad. My computer. When we learned about the changes this summer, I resigned myself that writing would go on the back burner. Even so, I had commitments, like regular blog posts here, on Paranormal Romantics, and my own blog. I limped along most of the month with a laptop that worked then didn't, frequently. I took it to the Geek Squad, who rescued my files and pictures (huge thanks). But after three trips, they told me fixing it would cost more than a new computer. Now, I have a tentative budget for my writing business, and it didn't include a new laptop this year. Last Thursday, the computer wouldn't open at all. What could I do besides research computers on my iPad (when I can get it away from Toddler Girl)? I broke down, "borrowed" money from the family coffers, and got a new one. Thus ends the bad stuff. I hope.

On another note, I thought of Leah last Saturday as we traveled to Chicago for a niece's wedding. I loved her message to her son and thought of that message as our niece and her spouse said their vows and celebrated. At weddings, I think of our wedding ceremony forty-plus years ago and all we've gone through over the years. Like this month, we've had our good and our bad times. And I'm sure we'll have more over the next month and years. Accepting change, going with the flow, trying to keep everything on an even keel will help us through the summer. Writing will come again. The house will be quiet. And I'll miss the chaos of this summer.

Diane Burton combines her love of mystery, adventure, science fiction, and romance into writing romantic fiction. Besides the science fiction romance Switched and Outer Rim series, she is the author of One Red Shoe, a romantic suspense, and the Alex O’Hara PI mysteries. She blogs here on the 30th of each month, on Paranormal Romantics on the 13th, and on her own blog on Mondays.

What It Takes To Be Betsy by Betsy Ashton

Most of you who know me or who have been following me know I'm independent and stubborn. That's a double understatement. So, three weeks ago on April 25th when I fell and broke my wrist, I knew I was going to need a lot of help. My dear husband stepped up to taking care of me along with all of his own tasks. He had no idea what being me entailed.

I broke the right radius, the bone that allows the wrist to turn. I had surgery one week later. 

Now, I'm profoundly right-handed, so I knew teaching my useless left hand to do anything would be a long and winding road. It was and is. 

Let's start with what I'm doing now: writing a blog entry. I'm typing with my left hand, backing up constantly to fix typos, and trying to keep my thoughts clear. Yes, my brain struggles to fend off the anesthesia muzzies. I figured out how to hunt and peck the letters. Then there was a contraption called THE MOUSE. I didn't reset the buttons, because it wouldn't have done a darned bit of good. I'm getting better at mousing. I'm so proud of me. I'm feeling cocky enough to trying to cut and paste, but not until I feel like being bought to my knees in frustration.

Cooking is out of the question. I have a freezer full of homemade soups and stews. We laid in a stack of Lean Cuisine and plenty of fresh veggies for salads and for roasting on the grill. Terry is good in the kitchen. Normally, I cook and he cleans up. Now, he's doing it all. I'm so lucky. Eating itself can be a challenge. As one of my friends said years ago about his toddler: "it's not pretty, but it's effective." Only twice since the break have I wished for a bib. At least, clothes and hands wash. Speaking of laundry, I've never been good at folding fitted sheets, but at least I have an excuse. Wonder how long I can milk this for sympathy.

Personal hygiene has been easier than I thought. A baggie over the mallet bandage first and the brace now, rubber bands to keep the water out, and an elbow to help with shampoo bottles work to keep me clean. Pedicures take care of toes and feet. Forget makeup. I'm out and about in native skin. And bless the people who developed battery-operated toothbrushes; they are my heroes.

To the people who have come to my aid--the nice young lady who helped me put groceries in the car, the barista who put lids on my coffee so I don't pour slop hot liquids all over, and the sweet young girl who carried two lattes to the car--I appreciate your kindness and am in your debt. 

To Joesephine at the Westlake Library, the "scene of the crime," who fetched ice, called Terry, and took me to get emergency treatment, you're my hero for springing into action and not getting sick when you saw how out of alignment the wrist was. I promise to share your kindness forward, right after you rename the building "The Betsy Ashton Library at Westlake."

Two weeks after surgery, I'm in a brace like the kind we wear for carpal tunnel and start physical therapy next week. Keep an eye on Facebook for updates. And if you see Terry looking harried, give him a smile and a hug. He's my super hero.

A Family Home...What's That? by Rolynn Anderson

I don’t have a ‘first home.’ In my youth, I adjusted to new homes about 25 times (Army brat).  As an adult I spent 33 years in 6 different homes in Washington State.  For the last 17 years, my husband and I have lived part time in Arroyo Grande, CA.  Many of the people I meet here in California come from another state.  In fact, I rarely meet people who have grown up and live near their family homes.  I keep thinking that the best (read: unusual) novel, might be about an extended family still maintaining a family home/compound through the generations.  How rare is that?

And who cares?  I have fared well (okay, no psychiatrist has examined me to make that judgment) by living a nomad life.  Yet I’m aware of a certain aura of entitlement that goes with the statement: "I’ve always lived here (close to my family) and I’m proud to say I always will."

I lived my early days as an Army brat and had no choice about moving from country to country (U.S., Germany, U.S., Japan, U.S., Korea, U.S.).  Did you?  Why did you move from your birthplace?  Looking back, any regrets...if you had it to do all over again, would you have stayed (or established) a ‘family home’ or are you glad you struck out on your own?  

Speaking of traveling, get ready for the release of my newest novel, BAD LIES, about an American geologist and a golfer who find trouble and love in Italy.  Countdown begins.  In two weeks, you'll be able to read BAD LIES:

  

Six Suspense Novels Spiked with Romance

http://www.rolynnanderson.com

http://www.amazon.com/author/rolynnanderson

Home and Family by Diane Burton

It’s still spring here near the eastern shore of Lake Michigan, although the heat is rising each day along with the humidity. Flowers are blooming—irises, rhododendrons, and a couple of blooms on the daylilies. 

daylily just starting to bloom

my favorite iris

new last summer

I love  perennials, even though they only bloom for a short time (except for the daylilies which keep going most of the summer). They spread and return stronger and fuller each year. I'm sure I've mentioned before how many of my flowers (like irises and Shasta daisies) came from my mother's garden by way of several of my other houses. Lilies of the valley came from my grandmother's farm via my mom, etc. When I see those flowers, I feel a connection with Mom and Grandma. 

outside my office window

I also brought tiger lilies from my mom's. Some people call them "ditch" lilies because they often grow wild in ditches along country roads. Do they ever spread! So I only brought a small clump from my old house. This is our second summer here in West Michigan, and already the perennials have shown how resilient they are.

Bloom where you are planted.

I can’t remember where I first read (or heard) that expression. It takes resiliency and flexibility to set down roots only to have them yanked out and transplanted again. Those of you who have moved with your (or your spouse’s) job know what I mean. Too often it’s the wife who doesn’t have a choice. She sets down roots, makes a nest, settles in, then—whammo—uprooted again. Flowers have been my way of bringing something of myself along, something that reminds me of “home”—wherever that is.

Home is a nebulous concept. It isn’t a house, although many refer to a building as their home. The slogan “it’s what’s inside that counts” refers to more than a product. What’s inside a house, or rather who’s inside makes a building a home. For our last three houses, it’s only been Hubs and me. We’re a family just as we were when we first married. But when our children and grandchildren are in the house, it’s feels so much better, like home. I understand the appeal of multi-generational homesteads. 

In the television series Blue Bloods, an episode doesn’t go by without the entire Reagan clan (four generations) sitting around the dining room table for Sunday dinner. What a tradition. It helps that they all live close by. In today’s society, families are spread out across a state or even across the country. Too often extended families only get together for weddings and funerals. Maybe even a reunion.

How do we preserve the sense of family?

Diane Burton writes romantic adventure . . . stories that take place on Earth and beyond. She blogs here on the 8th and 30th of each month and on Mondays on her own site: http://dianeburton.blogspot.com/

FALLING HEAD OVER HEELS FOR A RENOVATION by Rolynn Anderson

On Roses of Prose, our themes for October are: Fall into Danger, Fall through the Cracks, Fall Head over Heels, Fall on Deaf Ears

         I’m reminded of the line from the song: “You are so nice to come home to.”  That’s how I feel about returning from a four-month cruise on our boat…to our newly renovated California house.  You see, the paint had barely dried on our walls (in May) when we had to shut down the place and head to our trawler in Anacortes, Washington.  Weary from the hub-bub of renovation (to include tearing down a wall between the kitchen and great room!), we barely registered what we’d accomplished.  Instead, we had to put our minds to prepping our boat for our farewell tour to Alaska.

         Truly, it’s been a year of renovation.  I got new knees (the recovery was exhausting); we spiffed up our boat for sale and she had new owners within two months, AND we renovated most of the rooms of our house.

         Now, in October, boatless and with new knees, I can appreciate our hard work: planning our house redo, hiring the right people, collaborating with skilled and creative folks to manage unique touches…this was tough, stressful and demanding work!  But the results are magnificent.

         Yesterday, we hung artwork we brought from the boat.  We also installed a new chandelier, to match pendulum lights over our brand new entertainment island.  Besides little tweaks here and there and a thorough cleaning, we’re done.  We now get to enjoy the fruits of our labors after an amazing year of renovation.  And yes.  I’ve fallen head over heels for our New Home.

         How about you?  Have you chosen to renovate instead of buy another house?  Are you happy with your decision?