Cold I got, but... Where is the HOT?

by Jena Galifany

Winter this year has been something else. In the east, it has been horrible from what I've seen in the news. I'm in the west, in the high desert. It's been cold, but not like back east. I feel so sorry for those that are in it.

I should feel guilty that I complain all year round that I'm cold. Winter is cold, in the 40s and 50s which is nothing compared to what some of my on-line friends endure. We have summer weather around 100 to 110, so when it gets to the 50s, I'm freezing.

Our summer can last from May until well into November (I once went water skiing on New Years Day) so when winter gets here, I'm cold. I'm also cold all summer. I know it sounds silly but I have 3 blankets on my bed all summer and another couple on top of that in the winter. My husband works as an auto mechanic. He is outside all day in that 100 to 110 degree heat. When he gets home, he wants it cold in the house. Once it gets down to 65, I'm cold. I wear a jacket in the house all summer.

I live in a brick house that was built by my husband's grandfather when Steve's mother was 12 years old. Steve was born into this house and has lived here most of his life. Grandfather had A.D.D. and did some rather creative things when he built the place. I was told that he never completely pounded in any one of the nails in the place. Someone had to go along behind him and finish the job. Anyway, there is no insulation in a brick house other than the thickness of the paint on the walls. I can now appreciate tapestries mentioned hanging in castles of old. I don't have any but I can appreciate them.

Don't get me wrong. I love my husband, the Ice King. He screams like a little girl when I put my frozed hands under his shirt and touch his sides. I love my house and the 2.5 acres of land that came with it. I love where I live. But I'd really love to be warm at least one month out of the year. Is that too much to ask?
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A snow storm brought Ty Synclair and Alexis Rivers together. Spending time working with the men of ShadowsForge are one of the few ways I can get warm.

Alexis Rivers

Ty Synclair

ShadowsForge 1: Three Times a Hero

Bass player Ty Synclair is discontented with the women that come through his life who love him for his money, image, and fame.  He believes there has to be one woman, somewhere, who will love him for who he is, not the package sold to the public.

Alexis Rivers is finished with her abusive boyfriend and finished with love altogether.  She wants a man who would simply love and appreciate her.  Since he doesn't seem to exist, she wants to remain alone for the rest of her life.  The problem is her heart doesn’t agree with her decision, a decision that crumbles fast after literally running into Ty Synclair in the middle of a blizzard.

Can two cold hearts spark a fire, when they collide on a snowy mountain road and spend three days alone together in a snowbound cabin?

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Excerpt:

Ty jogged through two hundred feet of calf-deep snow at the side of the road, to where tracks went over the side. The Nova had continued its uncontrolled slide off the road, dropped about fifteen feet, and slammed dead center into a fair sized pine tree. The front end hugged the tree, keeping the vehicle from falling into the gorge. It was on a greater incline than the Honda with only one lone pine to hold the much heavier vehicle. Ty couldn't see anyone moving or trying to get out. Not a good sign.

Ty lowered himself carefully down the hillside to the driver’s door and found a dazed young woman behind the wheel. Blood trickled down the side of her face from a cut across her forehead. Her lap belt was snug around her heavy lavender coat. She was looking around, quite confused.

“Bloody hell,” Ty exclaimed, at the sight that met his eyes.

With the fender pushed back over the seam of the door, it took several tries to get the door opened. Ty wedged his boot against the edge of the fender, gripped the door handle, and pushed as hard as he could. The metal screeched in protest before it crumpled out of the way. Ty was thankful that he found the strength, thinking it had all drained from him in tonight's performance.

He searched through her car, trying to locate something to press to her bleeding forehead. Seeing nothing, he unbuttoned the bottom of his jacket long enough to rip the tail from his yellow shirt.

With the door open and the windshield broken, the warmth from the interior was quickly escaping. Ty unbuckled her lap belt and gently moved her over. He slid in beside her, pulling the door closed to preserve what heat he could. She proved to be very light as he settled her, getting her to lean her head back. He carefully brushed a few strands of blue-black hair from her delicate face and pressed the cotton material against the cut, trying his best to remember what to do for a head injury. Her eyes searched the ceiling of the car, wandering aimlessly.

“Do I look like a bleedin’ Boy Scout?” Ty spoke to himself, attempting to calm the anxiety that was creeping up, trying to overwhelm him. “They’re always prepared. I’m not. Come on, Synclair, stay calm.” He moved closer to her. “Miss?”

Ty hoped to bring her back to coherence long enough to find out who she was or where she was coming from. Hopefully she didn’t live too far away. If he could get his car up on the road, he could at least get her some help. Or walk there if it wasn’t too far.

The mobile phone.

Duh.

He quickly searched his jacket pockets with one hand. Gone. Must have fallen out when he hit the trees. Have to check when I get the bleeding stopped. He pressed firmly against the material held to her brow.

A moan escaped her lips, startling Ty from his thoughts. He shook back his thick hair, placing his mouth close to her ear. “Miss?”

"Oh, Lord.” She turned toward him. “You’re up already?”

The girl stared at him with deep, brown eyes. But in those dark pools, Ty saw something he didn’t like.

Terror.

She gave a startled cry, sliding from his touch, pushing his hand away as she grabbed the handle of the passenger door, tugging franticly. Her knit gloves would not allow her to get a good grip on the handle, her hands slipping continually from the metal lever.

“Calm down, lady.” He tried to hold her, fearing she would hurt herself further as she pulled with futility at the door handle.

“Don’t hurt me, Les.” She screamed in breathless terror, using the last of her strength to pound her fist on the glass. Panic quickly overcame her. She slipped from consciousness.

Ty heard a crunching sound. The car lurched to the side, swinging around the tree about a foot before it stopped. It was obvious that the car had no intention of staying where it was for very long.

Ty caught the girl as she slumped against the door, leaning her against his chest. He had to get her out of the car before it decided to give in to gravity. Ty grabbed her bag from the floor, placing it on her lap. Carefully, he pushed himself backward to the door, gently pulling the girl along by her coat. He tried to move as smoothly as he could, not wanting to make any jarring moves that might set the vehicle into motion.

Pretty daft of me to climb in here in the first place.

Her struggle had apparently upset the balance of the vehicle and he had no intention of making it worse. He reached behind his back, pushing the door open as slowly as he could while holding on to her.

With the angle of the car, it was difficult to push the door open. After several tries, he turned, giving it a shove. When he did, the door sprung all the way open. He jammed his boot against it to keep the door from rebounding closed again. He cursed as the car shifted again, another foot toward the gorge.

Ty held his breath until he felt the car stabilize. He slid out of the Nova, planting his boots as firmly on the snowy hillside as he could. Now that he was standing, he dragged the girl across the seat. He grabbed her bag and threw it behind him while holding on to her collar. Once he was sure of his footing, he tugged gently on her jacket, sliding her slowly out. She was dead weight and he didn’t know what injuries she might have, so he feared moving her too quickly.

He had her upper body clear of the car when there was a creaking sound and the snow beneath the tires crunched in protest as the heavy vehicle began to slide in earnest. Ty wrapped his arms under hers, leaning uphill away from the car, digging his heels in as he tried to pull her clear.

Her booted foot caught on the steering wheel as the Nova gave in to gravity.
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ShadowsForge 1: Three Times a Hero

http://whiskeycreekpress.com/authors/Jena_Galifany.shtml
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Cheers!
Jena

No Time For Hate

by Jena Galifany

Hate is an emotion I'd rather not think about. The negativity can destroy lives. I have better things to do with my life than think about hating someone or something. Even in my writing, I've not focused on the hate emotion. It is there but I don't focus on it.

In ShadowsForge 1: Three Times a Hero, Alexis is running from her abusive boy friend. She's scared and trying to be brave about her situation but focuses on the new man in her life, Ty Synclair.

In ShadowsForge 2: Trials on Tour, there is a hater. He wants the band dead because his woman was with one of the band members. I focused more on his inability to fulfill his purpose.

In ShadowsForge 3: Retaking America, there is a conflict between two of the band members over an obvious issue: a woman. I focused on the competition.

In ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home, we find out about Brian's history and conflict in his teen years due to hate. The story shows how much a bad history can make a mess of a current situation.

Shyanne's Secret has a case of hate that costs a man his life, so to speak. (I don't want to spoil the story). Most of the story is about the recovery of the girl who lost her mind due to her father's hate.

Okay, so I guess I have spend some time with the hate factor. But, how can we know the joy of love without knowing the pain of hate? It is relative. (Thank you, Mr. Einstein.)

I must confess, I hate inactivity. I hate writer's block. I hate waiting for something to get done and usually jump in and do it myself, just so it is finished. I hate a lack of writing time when I have a new story knocking around in my brain. I also hate the fact that I let my group down by forgetting to post last month. =(  Sorry!

I feel better now. I can go on and live my life without hate...unless it needs to rear its ugly head in a new novel. I guess that would be alright.

For more information and excerpts from the ShadowsForge Series and Shyanne's Secret, stop by Whiskey Creek Press and read the first chapter of each book for free.

Hope your Valentine's Day was wonderful. I know mine was.

Cheers,
Jena

The Nations In Me

by Jena Galifany

At this stage of the generations of my family, I am quite a mixture of nationalities. The list goes something like this: German, Irish, Dutch, English, Souix, and two other tribes of Native American. I'm not sure what those other two tribes are but would like to find out someday. I'm sure that the intermingling of the Euroamerican with the Native American was frowned upon.

The next generation, my son, Nick and my daughter Amanda, have all of the above plus their father was 100% Italian, so that is added to their line. My younger daughter, Jen, is Scandinavian and English from her father. At least now, there is not much said against the mixing of nationalities.

The real mix is my granddaughter, Halle, Amanda's daughter. She is as follows: German, Irish, Dutch, English, Souix plus two other tribes of Native American, Italian, with Japanese, Chinese, and Filipino from her father. It's hard to believe there can be so many nationalities in one young girl. We joke that she can have World War 3 all by herself. If she should marry a man of Russian decent, I think her children will have the world pretty much covered.

How mixed up is your family heritage?
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The Native American was treated poorly by settlers and the government. In the late 1800s, it was becoming more and more difficult for the tribes to remain on their own land. In the west, the Paiute tribes in Oregon were struggling against the white man as well as each other. It was a difficult time for them. For a greater understanding of the situation, read more about the Bannon - Paiute War HERE.

It was during this time in history that my novel "Shyanne's Secret" takes place. Here is a taste of the story.

Excerpt:


     Cole wasn't ready to face Rita after the morning he'd had.  He'd spent several minutes at a creek washing the mud out of his hair and off his face, clothes and the horse before he continued home.  None of them had scored a direct hit but had only splattered him.  He made his way toward home, not in the mood for a rematch with Dex.  After he dropped off the kitchen supplies on the porch, he continued into the barn to unload the bags of oats and other working items. Just because his Pa was gone didn't mean he'd let the farm fall to ruin or the animals starve. He moved past the variety of trees around the perimeter of the property and through the barn. He unhitched the gray, led him to his stall and brushed him down. He wanted to be alone, sort out his thoughts while he cleaned stalls.

    By afternoon, as he walked through the cool of the barn, he inventoried the unfinished work that awaited him.  He was hot, tired and frustrated about what he should do with his life.  Should he be the one to leave, or should Rita go back to A.J.? After all, it was his father's property and didn't that make it his now that Pa was dead? If only the grant office would make up its mind. His half-blood status was being weighed over his right to inherit from his white father. Cole hated the idea that he might need Rita to claim the land so he wouldn't lose it. She could sign it over to him, then be on her way elsewhere, if it came down to that.

    He wiped his brow on his shoulder and climbed the ladder to the loft.  He tossed his jacket into a corner that was piled with loose hay. He rolled up his sleeves, and sat on the pallet situated along the wall.  He closed his eyes, and recalled the hot summer days that he'd spent up here, listening to his Pa talk about how he and his friend, Martin Marshall had traveled out to Oregon for the free land the government was giving away.  The two friends had become brothers-in law when they'd married sisters; pretty squaws from a local tribe of Paiutes, when they found out they could get six hundred forty acres, a double portion of land if they had wives.

    Pa told him how he'd come to love that pretty little Indian lady after he convinced her that he'd never sell her. She was terrified the day her daddy sold her to Seth and her sister to Uncle Martin. She thought he'd bought her for a slave.  Seth had trouble convincing her that he'd made her his wife. Seth and Martin both had trouble convincing the community to accept their wives, and more problems when they'd had to convince the town council to allow their sons born a few months apart to be taught in the school with the white children. That only lasted until Cole and Will were twelve. So much for an education, but they got the basics and learned to work the farms instead.

    When Cole's parents were threatened, Uncle Martin got nervous and sent his wife and Will to stay with the tribe for safety. Cole missed his cousin but Seth couldn't do without his help. Cole felt he'd lost half of his spirit. The cousins were close and looked like twins, except that Will, the bolder of the two, was a bit taller and Cole's hair was a shade or two darker. They looked so much alike they delighted in causing minor trouble that the other would be blamed for. Four months after the Jackson murders, Uncle Martin brought his wife home but Will chose to stay on to learn more about his mother's people.

    The gray plow horse in the stall below nickered, reminding Cole where he was. He missed sitting up here listening to his daddy talk. Opening the buttons on his shirt, he pulled out the turquoise stone that hung on a thin leather thong around his neck, a talisman his mother had gifted him with years ago. He held it in his hand when he missed her, and wished he could bring her back.

    He collapsed on his back, one arm across his forehead as he contemplated the picture he'd drawn on the barn wall with a piece of charcoal when he was eight. Pa thought it was so grand he'd burned it into the wood so it would never fade. Cole once more envied the freedom that the wild mustang enjoyed.  In the midst of his thoughts, he remembered a certain smile and the kind blue eyes of Shyanne Bennett.

    He wanted to talk to her, say the things he had never said to any girl before.  He wanted to tell her how beautiful her blue eyes are; how much he'd like to touch her golden hair, how much he wanted to be loved by someone – anyone.  If that someone could be Shyanne Bennett, nothing else would matter.  He closed his eyes, and savored his memories.

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BACK COVER BLURB:
    Cole Jackson promised to take care of Shyanne Bennett, to keep her secret. It was a promise he intended to keep—and then her father lynched him. It might take time, but he'll find a way.

      Shyanne Bennett loved Cole Jackson, that sassy half-blood. She lost her mind when he died to keep her secret. Cole promised to take care of her but how can he once Harvey Bennett hung him? Maybe her heart will find solace in becoming the wife of his look-alike cousin, Will Marshall. And then again, maybe the heartache will only begin again.

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From my family to yours, I pray you have a safe and special Thanksgiving.

For more about "Shyanne's Secret" click HERE.

Cheers!

The Lady That Scares Me Most...

by Jena Galifany

She was the most beautiful lady ever to sail the ocean. She had class from the top of her four stacks, down to her engine rooms. She was strong. Absolutely immune to disaster. She couldn't be harmed. She couldn't be damaged. She was advertised: "God himself can not sink this ship!" Yet on the night of April 15, 1912, the great lady was mortally stuck but an ice burg, and her beauty slipped into the black depths in less than two hours, taking hundreds of lives with her.

Just because I'm writing about her, I will not be able to go to sleep tonight with much ease. You see, when I was a teen, I was obsessed by the R.M.S. Titanic. I watched A Night to Remember with Barbara Stanwick and a very young Robert Wagner. I've read everything there is to read about her. I ordered the Ship Builders magazine from 1911 through my library to read how the engines were built and dragged through the street by horses to the ship yard where she was being assembled. I knew how many were on board. I knew how many lost their lives. I knew what happened that night as it was remembered by the survivors.


My loving sister bought me a book titled, "Loss of the S.S.Titanic" written by Lawrence Beesley, a survivor, and published in June of 1912, two months after her loss. it has magnificent photographs of the decks, the gym, and the grand staircase. It has a stunning photograph of her sitting at the dock and a regal photograph of Capt. Smith. This book is in mint condition and will remain so since I have difficulty opening the cover. My daughter helped me to take the photos included here and the book has been returned to it's place of honor on my bookshelf.

Centerfold from "The Loss of the SS Titanic by Lawrence Beesley

Somewhere in the years since she was found, I've developed a fear of her. The sound of a ship's horn freezes me in my tracks. I can't help think what it felt like to be on deck that night. I can close my eyes and see the tilting deck, the lights that are already below the waterline and it fills me with  horror. Yes, I feel the fear even now as I write. I was angry when they brought up things from her. To me, it was grave robbing. There were still people alive that lost loved ones there. I felt it should be left alone, a memorial to those who lost their lives. I still feel strongly about that.

I never saw the DeCaprio film and never will. I understand the movie industry did a fantastic job of the movie but I can not face seeing it. I saw a commercial when it first came out and had to sleep with my lights on for three nights. Sometimes, it is a curse to have such a vivid imagination.

"Her Perfect Man", an historical romance, is set in Southhampton, England. It begins in 1907 and ends, well, I think you can figure that one out. I'll leave you with an excerpt from the book. I'll be watching comedies all night until I fall asleep, until the Lady decides to return to the corner of my mind where I keep the things that scare me the most. Enjoy!

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Something made Anna stop. Her hand closed tightly on a gown. It was dark blue satin, shiny and cool with a sheer veiling of silvery blue lace. It was heavy in her hands. She could not turn away as the color drew her in. She shivered with a sudden cold, and clutched the material.

A biting wind slapped her face, as if she moved forward at great speed through frozen air.

The gown came loose.

A cold, wet fog surrounded her. The floor tilted at an alarming angle. Anna slid downward with nothing to hold on to.

As she melted into the surrounding darkness, an icy cold washed over her face. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't hear what was happening around her.

Where had Mrs. Trent gone? Anna tried to call out but could not. Chase? Where was he?

Fear gripped Anna as she tried to free herself from the waves that clung to her face, cold and frighteningly alive. Suddenly the scream of a foghorn sounded.

Bright lights popped overhead. The sound of twisting metal creaked, tearing, as if in the distance. Voices cried out. Hundreds of voices. Silence.

As quickly as it came, it was gone. Mrs. Trent and Mrs. Marlow looked down at Anna.

"What on earth are you doing down there, Anna?" She could hear the embarrassment in Mrs. Trent’s voice. "Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Trent lifted the gown from her, and straightened the material as Anna struggled to her feet.

"I don't know what happened." She didn’t understand what she'd experienced but felt she should apologize. "I felt very cold, like fog on my face. It was very—strange." She tried to explain as she kept an eye on the gown Mrs. Trent handed to Mrs. Marlow.

Mrs. Trent smiled at the shop owner. "You probably see nervous brides every day, don't you, Mrs. Marlow?"

"Of course, of course," Mrs. Marlow agreed as she handed the gown to her assistant. "There is no more important day in a young lady's life than her wedding day. It is difficult to make everything come together perfectly and," she placed a reassuring arm around Anna, and led her to the bridal area, "it is your day, isn't it? You want to have everything exactly as you have always dreamed it would be, yes?"

"Uh—yes, ma'am." As if anything would be what she wanted it to be. 

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Her Perfect Man

Cheers!

Jena

Who's Face Was That?

by Jena Galifany

I love to spend time trying to back track my family history. We do have the occasional highlights in the family tree. On my mother's side, she is third cousin to Winston Churchill, a fact that shows up with a look at my brother.


The thing that amazes me the most is how the faces keep being handed down. They may skip a generation or two, but there are several repeat performances.


One such repeat had my father baffled at how my younger sister could be in a picture with our mother when Mom was only fifteen. It turned out that the one who Sherri shares a face with was my dad's sister, Julia. Daddy didn't figure it out until my uncle told him he should recognize his own baby sister.



Then there is my niece, Talena and my father's Aunt Cornie. The hair styles were definitely different, but the face is the same.

I have been privileged to share a face with my Grandmother Margie Pearl, my dad's mother. The older I get, the more I look like her.





The most fun I've had matching the faces in my family photo collection is this set. It shows me in the first photo. The second photo is me again, the baby sitting on my Grandmother's lap. The third photo is my son, Nick.

 It amazes me how the genetics work to pass a face down through the years. Last but not least, my mother has the Churchill look down pat. Don't you think? After all, they are third cousins.

I hope I've not bored you too much with my comparisons of the family faces that have been handed down over the years. There are others but I didn't want to be known as the blogger with the "old home movies".

I do want to point out that it is important to record all that you can about your family history. My mother is the last survivor of her family. She is the youngest of fifteen children. She never thought it was important to listen to the old stories Now she wishes she had because there is no one left to ask. We have a large collection of photographs from years gone by but there is no one to ask who the people are in the photos.

If you have elderly in your family and you have photos, have a reunion and spent time writing down who is who as well as anything else you can find out about your heritage. It will mean a lot to the generations that come after you. Especially if they happen to see their own face in one of those old photos.
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Cheers!

Please check out The ShadowsForge Series and Shyanne's Secret, available from Whiskey Creek Press
Available from Red Rose Publishing are Her Perfect Man and Love Lifted Me. Coming Soon from Red Rose Publishing: Day Labor.

Relaxing, No Stress Vacations? NOT!

Jena with Jenevie 2008

by Jena Galifany

The family vacation is not something that I've taken many of. We took one when I was eleven or twelve years old. We drove four hours to Las Vegas and spent a day there. My sister and I spent all day in the pool. By that evening, I was so burned I couldn't wear anything except the bathing suit. OUCH! The next morning, I developed tonsillitis. Oh, joy.

We moved on, taking the next couple of days to roll through Reno and Carson City. Nothing spectacular to report there. We cruised through Lake Tahoe and ended up visiting friends in Sacramento. This was nice. They had a pool. My burn and tonsils had both mellowed. We went to a zoo. Now, I'm like totally terrified of snakes. I don't even like pictures of them. Guess where my dad made me go with my sister? You got it, the reptile house. Joy of joys. I was so thrilled to get home and prayed we'd never take another vacation. Fortunately, we camped instead.

Fast forward, I was now 50 years old and my youngest daughter is the only kid at home. She has never been to Disneyland. I decided it would make a nice Sweet Sixteen/First Family Vacation gift to her before she grew up and left home. I planned it all out in secret. We'd stay at the Disneyland Hotel for two nights and have access to Disneyland and California Adventure. This was going to be awesome.

I didn't want her to know where we were going, other than spending the night at her grandmother's home in Huntington Beach, a two and a half hour drive from home. That way we could see my in-laws and be within thirty minutes of Disneyland instead of driving the couple of hours to get there. I decided to tell her that we were going to Los Angeles to get her braces. The dentist had mentioned that she could use them to straighten one tooth that is a quarter of a turn around so I thought I'd use that idea to cover our true destination.

Jena, Steve, & Jenevie @Disneyland 2008

Mr. Mechanic Husband (no sarcasm here. He's the best mechanic in the valley) checked the car over the day before, and made sure everything was ready for the trip. Tune up, doughnut size spare tire, clean windows and all. The next day, we were ready to roll at 1pm. Moping all the way, Jen climbed into the back of the car and we were on our way. Being a nervous passenger, I drove. We made it ten miles and blew a tire. I pulled over on the side of the freeway and Steve jumped out to take care of the problem. He had the tire changed in no time but when he let the car down, the spare went flat. (really?)

An officer pulled up and called roadside assistance for us. We waited fifteen minutes for the man to come air up the spare. Husband apologized profusely for the flat spare. I knew he had checked it. I'd seen him do it. No problem. We could stop in the next town, about nineteen miles down the road.

A forty-five minute wait gave us two new tires and a one hundred twenty dollar expense I hadn't planned on. I decided to let Steve drive. I'd had my fun already. (not!) So back on the road. Twenty miles later, the car died. It just died. Now, this isn't usually a problem. It does it all the time. I simply have to drop it into neutral, hit the key, it fires up, pull it back into gear, and on we go. It's been doing this for years. It's such an intermittent problem, no one can find out what it is. It's why we got the car cheap. Only, this time, it decided not to start again. Luckily we were traveling down hill and were able to coast the last couple of miles to the off-ramp and into a Denney's parking lot. So far, it took us an hour and a half to travel forty miles.

We sat in the parking lot until the car cooled down. Steve looked it over and couldn't find any problem. After careful consideration, we decided not to go on into the heavy traffic on the 5 freeway. We decided to roll down the windows, turn off the air conditioner, and take the car back home. We'd rent a car and start over. After twenty minutes, Steve tried the key and she started up. Praying, we had no problems all the way back home.

We headed to the first car rental place we found. They wanted a credit card. I didn't have one. I'd paid them all off. They wanted a utility bill to prove where I lived. I get all my bills via email (going green has its drawbacks, I've found). They wanted a $300.00 money order. Hmm. Off to the house to dive into the shred bag for an old utility bill. Found one! Off to the bank for the money order. Back to the rental office. They decided since the utility bill was from three months previous, it wasn't good enough. I offered to pull up my account on their computer to show them, but they didn't want me to touch their computer. (sheesh)

Before I totally lost my cool, my husband pulled me gently out of their office and we headed for another rental company.

It was after 5:30pm by now, with all of the running around. I was afraid everything would be closed and we'd not get a car that evening. Our reservations at Disneyland were for the next morning. I didn't want to be driving instead of checking in. Jen still didn't know. She was sitting in the waiting area when we got to the counter at Car Rental Office #2. I made sure she was not in ear shot and prepared for battle. I had to have a car.

"We have reservations for Disneyland and need a car. I don't have a credit card and I don't have a current utility bill. What can we do about this?" I was firm. I wasn't going to take no for an answer. I needed to give Jen a nice vacation and so far it wasn't working out so well.

The tall gentleman behind the counter smiled at me and said, "No problem." It took the wind right out of my sails. He continued, "Let's see what we can do. And if I can't get you a car, I'll drive you down when I get off work at 6." WOW! I like this guy! He tried to run every VISA debit card  I had but none were accepted because they were not "credit" cards. I was losing hope. He was positive. "Do you know anyone that would lend you a card since it's only to get it, not to pay for it? You can pay with the debit but I need a credit card to let you have a car."

"My mother, but she's twenty miles away."

He handed me the phone. "What's the number?"

"She couldn't get here before you close."

"What's the number?"

We got my mother on the phone. I explained the problem to her. She agreed that she wouldn't be able to get there before closing. It was already 5:45. I relayed the information to Mr. Gentleman. He held out his hand for the phone. He spoke to my mother for a moment, pleasantries and such. He shocked me by asking for my mother's permission to use her card. He assured her no charges would go on it. I don't know what Mom said but he started writing. He filled out the information, told my mother what a wonderful person she was, and gave me back to phone. My mother said, "Sign my name," and she hung up.

I stared at the man as he turned the papers to me and handed me a pen. He smiled. I smiled, signed and gave him back his pen. "We didn't do this," he said. "Now, let's get you on the road." He lead us out to a nice economical, clean, wonderful car. Again, WOW! We shook his hand and thanked him over and over. (Sidenote: I've rented all needed cars from this man for the past five years, with my own credit card I might add.)  We dashed back to the house to drop off my car, switch the luggage and were back on the road by 6:30pm. We arrived at my in-law's home a little after 9pm. It took us eight hours to make a two and a half hour trip. Gratefully, my mother-in-law had prepared a nice meal for us.

Jena with Jenevie California Adventure 2008

Jen was still grousing the next day when we got into the car to go to the "dentist". She was sulking in the back seat right up until we stopped in front of the Disneyland Hotel. Her eyes popped and she got a Minnie Mouse voice for a few moments, squealing her excitement. We spent the first day exploring Disneyland. She and her dad rode the rides and I found near-by shade to sit and read. I have MS and can't ride the rides but they love rides and I love reading, so it all works out. Steve developed a migraine halfway through the day but he rode all of the rides with her anyway... except Small World. He didn't think he could handle that one with a migraine.

Day two, we explored California Adventure. Day three, we shopped Downtown Disney and then drove to Huntington Beach for dinner and swimming with my in-laws. After the terrible beginning, our first family
vacation turned out to be a batch of wonderful memories. We went again the next year, but Jen keeps asking when she's getting those "braces" again.

Sidenote: Steve hates to go to the dentist so Jen suggested that I tell him he's going to Disneyland!

I hope all of your vacation adventures are filled with wonderful memories, relaxation and no stress.

For your reading pleasure, please hop on the bus and travel with ShadowsForge, the 80s British rock band as they travel the U.S. and the U.K. finding love and adventure in the series by Jena Galifany available at Whiskey Creek Press.  Three Times a Hero, Trials on Tour, and Retaking America are currently available for $2.99 each.

Cheers!
Jena

Fantasy? Why not?

by Jena Galifany

Fan·ta·sy

[fan-tuh-see, -zee] noun, plural fan·ta·sies, verb, fan·ta·sied, fan·ta·sy·ing. noun

1. imagination, especially when extravagant and unrestrained.

2. the forming of mental images, especially wondrous or strange fancies; imaginative conceptualizing.

3. a mental image, especially when unreal or fantastic; vision: a nightmare fantasy.

4. Psychology . an imagined or conjured up sequence fulfilling a psychological need; daydream.

5. a hallucination. 

(Courtesy of Dictionary.com)

Okay, now we have the dictionary description of Fantasy. I particularly enjoy number one. 

Imagination. The beginning of all fantasy writing is imagination. It is the "what if" and the "how about" that live in our mind just behind the reality of life that we are forced to live with.  It is seeing things in a new and different way. It's believing that the world could be so much better, so much richer, so much more to ones own liking. 

Extravagant. Absolutely. Everything about fantasy should be extravagant. The characters should all be over the top in looks, elegance, riches, abilities and even evil. The men should be everything a man can be, according to the writers' whims. So hot you can get a sun tan by standing too near. So hot, to actually be in physical contact with could leave his brand on your soul. The women are no slouches either. Perfect build, perfect hair, make-up, eye color, skin tone and attitude. 

Unrestrained. Wow! That opens the doors to almost anything the heart desires. That man you always wanted to get your hands on? He's yours for the taking. He'll do anything and everything to please you. There are no consequences to your actions. There will never be a negative to your positive. No accidents, no back-lash. Absolute freedom of personal expression. 

Can you imagine this kind of freedom in your lifetime? It can happen when you write. It's all right there, at your fingertips. Find a keyboard and start with a small expression of your own fantasy. Build a character that you'd love to work with. One that you'd love to be, for that matter. After all, you are your characters. You are in their head, thinking their thoughts, living their lives, and leading them in the direction you want them to go. 

In fantasy, you can add magic, dragons, flowers and Fae to help your characters along. There are not longer limits to the world of fantasy. It can be crossed with other genres. How about this idea?

Boy meets Girl with a stick. Dragon grabs Girl. Boy hunts Dragon. Boy finds Dragon with Girl with a stick. Boy battles Dragon. Dragon flame broils Boy. Girl rolls eyes and points stick at Dragon. Girl flame broils Dragon and invites the village to a feast. Village roasts Girl at stake because Dragon tasted just like liver. The End.

Well, it needs a little work. I can fill in a few more details and add some clever dialogue but you get the idea. Fantasy can be a fun way to pass the time and is one of the most popular genres on the market. If you haven't tried it yet, I suggest you give it a shot. It can lift your spirits, even if you write it strictly for yourself. 

I wrote about a fantasy man, Velcon, in 1979. In 1989, I met him and we've been married since 1990. I've told you about Steve before so I won't bore you with the details again. I have a manuscript that I wrote in 1979 that needs a good going over. It is a fantasy. It's titled "The Ice Child" and some day I will publish it. Then the world will know more about Velcon Vespersley and his lady love, Jena' Galifany. Yes, that is where I got my author name.

Excerpt from "The Ice Child" 

After traveling what seemed like miles, the party came to the maze. Velcon kept himself between Cavoth and Devlin as well as having Caleth by his side. It was more simple to keep the mystery person from the child with the child in the lead with Alverian. Velcon decided that the next time they came to an outer door, he could be ready to free Dawnia and Jena from their current condition. All that was required was a little timing, some help from Caleth and Devlin, and a lot of luck, mixed with a few spells. Telepathy would have to be employed to tell Caleth and Devlin what to do as, chances were, he wouldn't get the opportunity to speak with them alone. Simple, right?

Velcon wondered why Cavoth hadn’t taken them all under mind possession. Why hadn’t he noticed the relic Devlin found? But, then, maybe he had. He tried once to take her. Velcon had to travel back to Gaelfar, if only for a split-second, for the components for the spells needed to free the women.

Velcon though about the maze as they entered it. This would be a good time to go. He quickened his steps and came up beside Alverian and Devlin. Velcon concentrated to gain Alverian‘s attention. "After I pass you, walk behind her, following her footsteps."
Alverian dropped back as Velcon walked ahead. Velcon's long strides quickly carried him forward until he put some distance between them.

Alverian paced Devlin's steps to stay between Cavoth and the youngest member. Suddenly, Velcon spun around, and threw blue-black handfuls of light over the entire party. His six companions stopped in their tracks, suspended in mid-motion. With a long look at Jena, Velcon filled his hands once again with the blue-black mist and poured it over himself. His destination: Gaelfar.

* * * *

The shop keeper never quite got used to his customers popping in and out as they pleased. He lost more stock that way. Magic users and thieves were always showing up just long enough to take what they wanted and disappear without paying for it. The sudden appearance of a person somewhat unnerved the small man.

Lithmar was glad to see that the day came to a close, when he could ward his store and retire upstairs with his family to enjoy the privacy and quiet. Only moments to go and his dream would became reality.

"And why not close a few moments early. The day has brought a good income already. What is a few more moments going to matter?" He jumped from his tall stool, and stepped around the end of the counter, starting toward the door. His steps were halted by a blue black cloud of shimmering air, followed by the appearance of one of his best customers suddenly standing before him.

"The mighty Velcon." He clapped his hands with delight. He took Velcon by the arm and firmly held him. "Welcome, my friend. Come and have mead with me. I was just closing up..."

Velcon returned Lithmar's welcome with a quick smile and, releasing the little man's arm, stepped around him. "I must have supplies. Dawnia and Jena, their lives depend upon my haste. Here." He moved from one shelf to the next, Lithmar following him from aisle to aisle. "Take these things to the counter. I know the others would most likely have them but I must be sure." Velcon handed several items to Lithmar, a small piece of iron, a vial of pure water, a string of chanting beads, and various other items.

"Spell components, I see. Bad, is it? Dawnia and Jena? Did Jena try for another black stone?"

Velcon wasn't listening as he grabbed this way and that for any item which might come in handy.

Lithmar frowned at Velcon‘s distraction. "Well, I am sure that when you have more time, you will explain it all to me. Don't worry about that," Lithmar told Velcon as he reached for his pouch of gold coins. "I'll remember what you owe when you have more time and I have a shortage of funds, my friend."

Velcon offered an appreciative smile. "I wish I had time for that mead. It would do me well. But, if I fail, the bill may just have to be forgotten on this plane of existence. If so, I will pay you in the next. Fare well, my friend." Velcon was gone as suddenly as he had appeared, his purchases with him.

Lithmar thought to himself, "Velcon, I can trust but I surely wish he would use the door once in a while."

_______________________________

Fantasy can take you anywhere, at any time, you want to go. I hope you've enjoyed this little piece of the first book I ever attempted to write. With a bit of luck, "The Ice Child" may make it to publication some day. That's just another one of my fantasies.

Cheers,

Jena Galifany

http://jenagalifany.bravehost.com

Father's Day

By Jena Galifany 

Jena and Daddy 1967

In 1906, a young lady, while listening to a Mother’s day sermon, was moved to wonder why there was not a day that similarly honored fathers. After all, her own loving father had personally taken care of his children after their mother died while giving birth to the sixth child. He took on the challenge of raising his new born and its five siblings in a day when most men would have found another woman, probably a relative, to take the large brood off his hands.

Sonora Smart Dodd felt that her father deserved as much honor as mothers all over the country. After all, he had acted as father and mother to the six children. She raised support for the idea, including the YMCA and the Spokane Ministerial Association in Washington. Spokane responded by celebrating its first Father’s Day on June 19, 1910.

The idea spread and was supported through the years by President Woodrow Wilson in 1916. In 1924, Calvin Coolidge said he supported the idea, noting that it would, "establish more intimate relations between fathers and their children and to impress upon fathers the full measure of their obligations". These men supported the idea but did not make it a declared observance.

In 1966, President Lyndon Johnson made Father’s Day a presidential proclamation to be observed on the third Sunday of June. Finally, in 1972, President Richard Nixon established the third Sunday of June to be the permanent national observance of Father’s Day in the United States.

It seems that it took a long time to establish this day of honor for fathers but Sonora saw her desire to honor her loving father come to fruition. She died in 1978 at the age of 96 and will always be remembered for the love she had for her father, Mr. William Jackson Smart, Civil War Veteran and outstanding example of fatherhood.

Steve and Jen 2010

Fatherhood should be an event seriously thought out and planned. It should not be taken lightly and too often these days, it is. Fatherhood was not on the mind of a young Brian Cummings, percussionist in the ShadowsForge series. It took three years and major tragedy for him to find out. Here’s the blurb from Brian’s story:

Brian Cummings has come a long way from Leicestershire, England. Miles of hard road lay between then and now—hard road he’s kept hidden—until the nightmares begin again.

Brian Cummings

Diane Starling loves Brian. If she were not carrying his child, she’d still do anything to make him happy—even letting him go to someone else. Who is the woman in his nightly dreams? Why does she make him scream?

Valerie Leonard, journalist, dredges up history that should remain buried; history that could ruin Brian and hurt the people he loves most. Should Val keep his dangerous past to herself? Doesn’t Diane have the right to know the truth about the father of her child?
Brian and Diane fight to overcome the past, embrace the present, and build a future as they travel with ShadowsForge on “THE LONG WAY HOME.”

Review:

"ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home is a reader's dream. The tug of emotions I felt while reading Brian's story are a credit to Ms. Galifany as a writer. I was moved to tears on more than one occasion and besieged by frustration as life worked against Brian, Mia and Diane. Page after page I was drawn further into the lives of the characters, wanting to know what would happen next, hoping that somehow Brian's life would finally end in happiness. Ms. Galifany has woven a tale of tragedy and love that is more genuine than any I have

read in a long time. I wasn't expecting such a deeply moving story from a series devoted to a popular British rock band, but ShadowsForge 4: The Long Way Home is just such a story.If you have not read the rest of the ShadowsForge series, do not hesitate to start with The Long Way Home. Ms. Galifany has woven enough history into the story that you will quickly learn about the other members of the band and some of the interesting adventures they have had. If you are a devout ShadowsForge follower, I think you will be intrigued by the in-depth look into the past of their drummer and the secrets he's been carrying within him all this time. As for me, I'm off to find the first three volumes of the ShadowsForge series so I can hear about all those amazing adventures these bad boys of rock have had a part in." - Reviewed By Sabine Maurier, Novelspot.

Please visit my WEBSITE for excerpts from the ShadowsForge Series.

Have a wonderful day!

Cheers!

JG

Memory, Memorial, Miracle by Jena Galifany

May is a month of many happenings in my family. There are several birthdays: both of my sisters, one niece, a great-nephew, and my late Puppy Dog.

May is also a month of tragedy. Both grandfathers passed away in May, before I was two years old. I don't remember either of them. I experienced my first panic attack in May twenty years ago and continue to deal with them.

Worst of all, my oldest daughter was made a widow at the age of twenty-one seven years ago. TJ was taken from her in a car accident. He was a passenger. His seat belt failed to keep him from hitting his forehead on the dash. He lingered for two days before Amanda had to make the decision to let him go. There was no brain activity for two days before she had to make that horrible decision.

I'd like to share a few memories of my son-in-law, if I may.

TJ was a character. He was Phillipino/Chinese and had some odd ideas about how the world should work. For example: he thought it was alright to "taste-test" fruit in the grocery store. We used to laugh about him selecting an apple in Albertson's while Amanda and I were shopping with him for the first time. He polished it on his shirt and chomped into it. Amanda starred at him in disbelief, not sure what to say.

"TJ," I said, "you can't do that."

"Why not?" was his reply. "I have to make sure they're good."

That brought him a roll of the eyes from his wife and myself. I chose another apple and put it in the shopping cart so I could pay for it at checkout. I had some trouble explaining to the checker that I only wanted to pay for it, but not take it with me. He couldn't understand that I was paying for the one my new son-in-law had eaten.

~~~~~~~~~~~

TJ had never had a birthday party. An only child, he was raised by his father. His mother lived in a different state. Neither had given him a birthday party. I was privileged to provide him with one on his twentieth. It was small, only family and a couple of his friends. But he was thrilled.

~~~~~~~~~~~

TJ was Phillipino, as I mentioned before. Their culture has a lot of fish in their diet. Amanda is half-Italian, from her father. Amanda does not like fish. Shortly after their wedding, they went to her father-in-law's home for dinner. Lying on newspapers on the dining-room table was a large fish, approximately two feet long, head still intact. Amanda smirked. The conversation when something like this:

Amanda: "What is that?" (Horrified look.)

TJ: "That's dinner." (Wide grin.)

Amanda: "EEWWW!" (Wrinkled nose.)

TJ: (Brows drawn down.) "In my family, that is a blessing."

Amanda: (Brows raised.) "In my family, that means someone is gonna DIE!" (Think Luca Bratsi in "The Godfather".)

~~~~~~~~~~~

TJ's second Christmas and Halle's first.

TJ had never celebrated Christmas. His family just didn't celebrate holidays. I had the privilege of giving him his first Christmas. Amanda was pregnant with Halle. I had the joy of making it a Christmas none of us would forget.

For once, I had the money to do it right. Everyone got everything on their Wish List. We had breakfast together, all the kids in their pajamas. We opened gifts and enjoyed being together. Beside fulfilling their wish lists, I got each of them (my son, both daughters and TJ) a bucket of Legos, a Barrel of Monkeys, Video Games, candy and fruit (a family tradition). We even had the train around the Christmas Tree. That evening, we partook of a prime rib dinner together. The whole day was perfect.


~~~~~~~~~

TJ was a gamer, a snow-boarder, and an all around good guy. He left us too soon but he left a blessing in the form of Halle. She is now nine years old. She doesn't remember her father but she knows who he was by pictures and stories she's been told about him. He was a great guy and we all miss him.

May always begins on a bad note with the memory of his loss. We are happy that he was saved and baptized. Amanda finds comfort knowing TJ is in heaven waiting for her. They faced some challenges in their young marriage, but I feel they had a love that will last forever.


~~~~~~~~~~~~
The memories of TJ are sweet. The memorial: I visit his grave occasionally and I always take him an apple. The miracle is that, even though she didn't know him, Halle is just like him in so many ways. She is truly her father's daughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for letting me share.
Cheers!
Jena'
http://jenagalifany.bravehost.com

It Only Takes a Moment to Change a Life

by Jena Galifany

There are many moments that occur in each person's life that change everything that comes after. It may be the first time another person helped you when you were a child. Or it may have been that first time someone hurt you by not helping when you needed them.

The first time a person of interest smiled at you. How you felt when you smiled back. Were you giddy? Did you feel the heat rising in your face? Or did it give you the confidence to be bold?

I met Steve when my sister and her husband returned from Germany after his tour in the Army. While they were away, they'd lost track of a good friend. Since I'd done skip-tracing, and had proved my worth by locating my sister's husband's father who had been missing for twelve years, they asked if I could track their friend. No problem. I told my sister where to look and she found him that day. (Note: this was before the Internet.)

So Steve began hanging out at my apartment because that is where my sister and her husband were living until their things were shipped home from Germany, which took a couple of months. This 6'3" good-looking man was hanging around in my living room or in my garage. He was wonderful to look at but since I'd had a bad marriage, I wasn't looking to buy, but shopping was nice.

I'd come home for lunch and he'd be there on his days off. I rarely wore skirts but I decided to see if he had any interest in me. We spoke a few times but only in passing. I figured he was the same age as my sister, who is nine years younger than me. It would be nice to have someone to talk to and he was there all the time, so, why not. I found out he was my age and that made him even more attractive. Plus he had beautiful hair which I adore. (It's all about the hair, you know!)

Steve 1989

On a day that I knew he'd be there, I wore a little white skirt that came about half way up on my thighs. I had white heels to go with it. I don't recall the blouse I wore. I came home and the guys were out by the garage, tinkering under the hood of the car. I said hello as I walked by and went on into the apartment. Okay, he said hello but not much reaction.

I had my lunch and when it was time to head back to work, I gathered my things and strolled to my car. I walked by, said "see ya later", and folded into my car. It was a short car and I'm kind of tall, even taller with the heels. It really was folding to get in the car.

Okay, he didn't say anything. I was disappointed, hoping there would be some attraction. My ego could have used the boost. I had great legs back then. That was why I didn't wear dresses or skirts much. It always drew the wrong kind of attention. But it didn't look like he was going to take the bait. Oh well. I started the car and turned it around to head back to work.

That's when I got my life altering moment. As I drove away, I looked in the mirror. From around the hood of the car they were tinkering with, I saw Steve leaning out and watching me with a smile on his face. He watched until I turned a block away. The rest of the day at work seemed to take forever but I knew that he'd be there when I got home.

It started out two people wanting someone to talk with. We each wanted someone to hang out with and be a friend with. From that moment on, it only got better and better. We married a year later. Jen was born a year and a half after we married. Now it's been almost twenty-three years and Steve is a fine wine, better with every passing year. That one look changed my life. I'll never forget it. (God bless that little white skirt! lol)

I hope I've not bored you with my story. What are your defining moments? Your first date? Your first kiss? Your first book contract? The birth of your first child, or second, or third? Gather those moments and keep them close in memory.
_______________________________________

A smile changed the life of Cole Jackson. Shyanne Bennett smiled at him. It was a smile he would never forget.

     A shadow grew on the kickboard, and drew Cole's attention from his meditation.
    "What's up, Chief?"  Dex grinned at Cole, displaying a row of perfect teeth.  His platinum hair reflected the sunlight like a halo around his head.   His cronies, three idiots that Dex couldn't take a breath without their applauding his success, surrounded him.  Each held their hands solemnly behind their backs.
    Cole ignored them, his gaze caught by that blonde girl, Shyanne Bennett, that he'd been watching for the last four months. It was the highlight of his trips to town. She sat across the street in a wagon with one of her friends while her father tended to some business or other.  Shyanne made it easy to forget that there was a horse's arse standing beside him trying to make his day worse than it already started.  He'd focus on the good, and ignore the bad.  He'd become good at that throughout the years.
    "I'm talking to you, In-jun."
    Cole concentrated on Shyanne.  Dex turned, followed his line of sight and laughed.
    "You've got no chance with that one.  She's way out of your reach."
    Cole tossed the apple core into the street. His eyes remained on the girl.  He wished the idiot would go away while he enjoyed the view.  She was pretty when she laughed, her blonde hair bobbing around her shoulders and down her back in soft curls.  He wondered what color her eyes were. 
    At that moment, she noticed him.  She stopped talking, her gaze locked with his, and a smile curved her mouth.  Cole would remember that smile for the rest of his life. It was one of the few moments in his life when he felt acceptance.  No one could take memories away from him so he held on to the special ones like a miser held on to his gold.
_________________

Purchase Shyanne's Secret at Whiskey Creek Press.
To see all of my Books, please Visit my WEBSITE

Cheers!
JG