Girls Just Want to Have Fun by Alison Henderson

I used to be a very serious person. For many years I was an executive in a serious business, drove a serious, and wore serious business clothes. Even my writing was serious. In my first two books,Harvest of Dreams and A Man Like That, my characters faced serious problems and dealt with them in serious ways.

A little over three years ago all that changed.

It started even before the disintegration of my old career. It might have been brought on by my father’s final illness and the realization that life is too short to be wasted on meaningless, unsatisfying pursuits.  Perhaps it was the natural culmination of an overload of serious life events. Or maybe just the arrival of wisdom that comes with age. For whatever reason, I began to chafe under the constraints of my serious life. I wanted to find ways to have fun.

I know this will surprise some of you, but I did not choose to take up heavy drinking, wild parties, and cabana boys. I wanted to express my sense of whimsy, not end up on Middle Aged Women Gone Wild.Instead, I started buying fun socks.

Sitting in my father’s hospital room with my mother and sister, I was surprised when I showed them my cheetah socks and my mother said she was glad to see them because she’d thought I’d become very stuffy. Now I never thought of myself as stuffy—reserved maybe, but not stuffy. I always knew that inside I was still fun. It’s a bit disconcerting to hear a pronouncement like that from one’s own parent. Her comment increased my determination to liberate my whimsical self. I bought more socks with monkeys, cats, and chipmunks. My brother even bought me a pair featuring Van Gogh’s Starry Night as a retirement present.  Here are a few of my favorite designs:

And it didn’t stop there. When we decided to move to Carmel, I knew I didn’t want to bring my ten-year-old car. The new me needed a new car. It had to be small, economical, and above all—fun.  Well, a car can’t get much more fun than my little red Fiat 500.

As soon as we moved into our new house two years ago, I began to indulge my whimsy by creating fairy gardens. So far I've made two, one for me and one for my garden club silent auction. I had so much fun I'm now trying to come up with excuses to make more. Anybody want a fairy garden?

Not surprisingly, even my writing has changed. Starting with my western novella, The Treasure of Como Bluff, my voice became snappy and funny with barely a hint of angst. Unwritten Rules features a cantankerous Chinese grandmother and a neighbor who leaves pennies in the freezer, and my current WIP, Boiling Point, includes a robotic sous chef named GRAMPA (Great Robotic American Meal Preparation Assistant). Naturally mayhem ensues, and I love it.

I believe it's important to keep growing and changing, even as we age, so we might as well have fun while we do it!

Alison 

www.alisonhenderson.com 

Retirement? Hah! by Alison Henderson

When I retired two years ago, my sister told me not to worry about being bored. Stuff would materialize to fill my time before I knew it. Boy, was she right.

I’ve always considered myself an energetic person. Before retirement, I had worked full-time outside the home for decades while raising a family, managing a home, and writing four books. I expected that level of activity to continue, only now—without the outside job—I would be able to increase my writing output exponentially. Right? Wrong.

I neglected to consider the seductive power of slower mornings. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in more than nine years. (I’m sixty, so you can probably guess the cause.) The last few years I worked, that early-morning alarm became a snarling monster, out to sabotage my mood, my motivation, and my health. Of all the benefits of retirement, being able to grab an extra hour of sleep—no matter how fitful—is my favorite.

However, lolling around in the morning, reading the paper and having breakfast in my pj’s, comes with a price. Throw in a little gardening or an errand or two, and the morning has disappeared. Social media has to take some of the blame. When I retired, we moved from Minnesota to California. The weather is fantastic, but I lost my in-person social contacts. Also, due to the time difference, I feel like I’m behind the rest of the country by the time I sit down for breakfast. I want to catch up with old and new friends on social media and check out what’s happening in the world. More time gone.

And then there’s OG. He’s around all the time. When I worked and he was home alone, I didn’t worry too much about him. He was responsible for his own time. That’s just the way things were. Now I feel guilty if I don’t spend enough time with him, don’t give him enough interaction and attention. I used to come home from work, fix dinner, watch TV with him for an hour, and then retire to my office to write. I never felt guilty. I’m not sure why the dynamic is so different now, but it is. Maybe it’s because retirement is an adventure we’re facing together in a new place, with few social contacts aside from each other. I would tell OG to get out there, do something, make friends, except that he is by nature a grumpy, old hermit and would tell me to buzz off.

Fortunately, he likes to take a siesta every day after lunch. That’s my me time, my writing time. If I were good and wrote every day, those two or three hours would be sufficient to accomplish my writing goals, but during the upheaval of our relocation I let my writing slide. Now, it’s like I’ve fallen off the horse and forgotten how to get back on. Whenever a writer tells you how important a regular writing schedule is, LISTEN TO THEM. It is so much harder to get your groove back once you’ve lost it.

Last year, for the first time in five years, I didn’t have a new book out. I’m determined not to let that happen again. I know myself and my level of ambition and motivation—I’m not likely to want to do what it takes to publish two or three titles a year—but I do want to publish one book a year on a steady, routine basis. This year, SMALL TOWN CHRISTMAS TALES is on target for a fall release, and I’ve started the second book in my female bodyguard series. I know I can finish that one next year if I muster the necessary self-discipline.

To help keep me on track, I’ve recently connected with two new critique partners, fellow Roses of Prose. I’m now responsible to other writers to produce pages on a regular basis for the first time in years. I’m excited by the possibilities. Wish me luck!

Alison

www.alisonhenderson.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/alison.henderson.33

Twitter: https://twitter.com/alsnhendersn

A Fling with Freedom by Brenda Whiteside

Monument Valley in Arizona

I looked at our themes this month and Fling and Freedom stood out. Fling brings to mind a couple of things - the most romantic only found in books for me at this time in my life. But Fling and Freedom pretty much describe what my husband and I have been up to for the last couple of weeks. We're on our first RV trip which is a real Fling with

Rocky Mountain High

Freedom on the road.

We headed for our old stomping grounds - the Twin Cities in Minnesota. We lived there for nearly twenty years. Summer in Minnesota is heavenly. Well, if you can ignore the humidity which is really good for the skin. What a great time we've had visiting friends. The only downside is we didn't visit

The Colorado River

EVERYONE we know. The next trip we'll touch base with a few more friends.

Writing for a living affords me the freedom to travel as I please, provided the finances allow it. My husband is retired and freedom is his middle name. We have a fifth wheel. I managed to get a little writing done, pulling our home behind us. I've learned to write in any environment except for really bumpy roads. Just keeping my fingers on the keys became a challenge on some of our nation's highways. More

Mount Rushmore

often than not, I gave up and enjoyed the scenery.

A tour of the Twins Stadium

This maiden voyage with the RV has been quite an experience. I now have a couple of lists going that we'll tackle when we get home: Things We Need for the RV and Things to Get Fixed by the Dealer. I've also found Internet access in all RV parks is not equal. Luckily, as I write this while staying in the Theodore Roosevelt Park in North Dakota, I have a decent connection.

But all in all, this Fling with Freedom from our everyday lives is great!

P.S. If I don't respond to your comments, I'm still on the road and not having luck with the Internet connections.

Look for Brenda's newest release coming soon from The Wild Rose Press. Release date to be announced. Check her website. www.brendawhiteside.com

Fortuitous Freedom

Okay, I managed to fit two of suggested topics for July into this blog. I’m going to mention freedom first. Retirement means freedom. Hubs and I did without a lot of things during our working lives to make sure we had enough money for retirement. Three permanent layoffs just about depleted our savings each time. It was fortuitous that we were able to recover. Sort of. Thank goodness for pensions and 401k’s and a financial planner who worked miracles during the recession.

When we had to move from West Michigan to Chicago for Hubs’ job, I made him promise we would retire back there. Since he likes the area, too, he agreed. Another job took us to mid-Michigan—close but no cigar. Then our grandchildren arrived. Good news/bad news. They lived in Indianapolis. Nothing was keeping us in Michigan. It wasn’t the Lake Michigan shoreline, but grandchildren mean more than location. So I started looking online at houses. Hubs was not as eager to uproot.

Then Fortune shined on us. The grandchildren (their parents, too) moved to West Michigan. Wow. My dream come true. Hubs kept thinking about all we had to do to make our current home saleable. Optimistic me started looking for houses online again. Ultimately—after many 200-mile trips for dance recitals, Christmas Pageants, babysitting, etc.—he came around. A year ago, we started looking at houses with a realtor. Okay, I thought, we can be picky this time—not try to find a house over a weekend, as had been my previous modus operandi. We took our time. And maybe we were being too picky. If you’ve ever watched House Hunters on HGTV, you know there are always compromises whether finding an existing house or building a new one.

After ten months of looking at houses where we would have to make changes, remodels, all the stuff we’d done six times before, we decided to build. Everybody has heard horror stories of construction nightmares. We mentioned to the banker an oft-repeated saying of adding 20% to the cost of construction. She looked surprised. Not Mike, she said. That was a nice surprise. When she asked our projected move-in date, we repeated the builder’s estimate of six months from ground-breaking. When she shook her head, we figured she’d say good luck with that. Instead, she said he always finishes sooner. Plan on five months. Yeah right, we thought.

Right now we are three months from ground-breaking and the builder is telling us we could be in at the beginning of September. The rooms have drywall up, the furnace and all the electrical are in. Not all the plumbing, but the tub and shower are in. As is the driveway and garage floor. Tomorrow we pick out paint colors, carpet, kitchen counters and backsplash. While the siding isn’t on yet, we've been told that’s a one-day job. I’m totally amazed at how much is done each week when we drive over to check. Hubs takes his measuring tape each visit to check measurements against the plans. One day, he took the 3-year-old grandson to hold his tape. The kid was thrilled to help Papa. Granddaughter, who had been miffed at missing out, was mollified last Thursday to be the first one in the house.

While I’m excited at moving in early, I’m not thrilled about packing up a house where we’ve lived over thirteen years—our longest. Deciding what goes with us and what to discard gives me nightmares. Almost. What I keep in the forefront of my mind is that in, maybe, two months we’ll be close to our family.

Through a fortuitous event, son-in-law’s new position brought the family to West Michigan where we wanted to retire. How fortunate for us that we have the freedom to do so.

Diane Burton

Things I've Learned Along the Way

Today is my sixty-fifth birthday. How can this be when I'm so young? Or so I keep asking myself. Calvin, on the other hand, just smirks and says, "It's been a long time coming, angel." Yeah, like sixty-five years! Golly, just saying it makes my eyeballs twitch. I retired when we married ten years ago, so this birthday milestone does not carry with it the typical yay me, I get to retire hoopla. Although I am a proud carrier of a Medicare card. And when I announced to my doctor during my visit last week that he was getting my virgin Medicare card, the young man blushed. "I just love you and Calvin. I'm telling you, I've got no patients like the two of you."

That was a compliment. Right?

So what have I learned along the way to this milestone? I've learned to love more and judge less. I've learned to embrace the future and cherish the past. I've learned the smartest people are little children. They see the wonders of the world through eyes filled with possibilities instead of boxing things in with jaded expectations. Take a dandelion, for example. A child looks upon it as a thing of beauty and magic. Blow on it and watch what happens. Adults look at the same flower and think weeds.

 

Most importantly I've learned the value of dreams. The ultimate fulfillment one experiences when he or she completes every step toward the attainment of that dream or goal. For me, it was writing and being published. For others, it is getting a college degree or playing professional sports or mastering a musical instrument or dance. All require sacrifice and hard work. All strengthen our souls and enrich our lives.

 

One of my favorite poets is Langston Hughes. I'd like to share his poem regarding dreams:

 

Dreams by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.      

Give Me Turbulence by Brenda Whiteside

NEW BEGINNINGS! I love to write about new beginnings, and I'm currently in the middle of a new beginning. The title at the top of my web site is Discover Yourself. My blog is also called Discover Yourself. Some people prefer finding a niche and remaining there forever. I've always found myself on the move both personally and professionally - always discovering. If you've read my books, you'll see my heroines and some of my heroes are still discovering their ways, even those who are forty and fifty somethings.

Technically, all of my new beginnings started in 2012, but some starts take longer.

On a personal level, my husband retired and we moved to a small farm on a prairie in Arizona. We're city folk. Or were. By combining households with my son and his wife, we took on farming. My son is the major farmer, but Frank and I did get our hands dirty. I split my time between farming and writing. Part way into this experiment, I began blogging about our adventure and will continue to do so this year. We're expanding. We grew enough to fill our freezer and shelves with plenty leftover for the local food bank and family. This year we will go at it on a more commercial basis although still organic and natural.

Another new beginning that started last year is my first ever grandchild. Sadie Belladonna's expected Earth entry day is February 22. This is a new beginning that will impact our entire household. I'm excited beyond belief to have a grandchild. How that works out living under the same roof remains to be seen. Chuckle here.

On a professional level, I signed with an agent last year. Until now, I've been published by small houses that are approachable directly by an author. I've been very happy with The Wild Rose Press and Melange, but because of their size, certain results of being published are not readily available for my books. For one, readers cannot walk into a bookstore and buy my book because they are lured by the way it looks on the shelf. The store can order it for you, but if you don't know me...well, the obvious. By signing with an agent, the big New York publishers will give my book a look. That new beginning was stalled by Hurricane Sandy and then the holidays. Arghhhh!! So, this year could be the start of the start. Remains to be seen.

All and all, 2013 is going to be a year of changes and beginnings. Am I nervous? Nope. I love this kind of turbulence!

Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com.

Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9^th and 24^th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about prairie life and writing at http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/

Pets, Frogs and Musings by Brenda Whiteside

Rusty delivers the paper

Gabby, Rusty and Xena

Since the month is a hodge podge of possible themes, my post is a mish mash of musings. Pets and frogs jumped out at me. (whoops, a pun)

We're two months into a new lifestyle on a northern prairie in Arizona. We're communal living with my son and his lady in a long house - a family at each end - on a family farm. In the middle of the house are the kitchen and living room which are shared. Added to this mix are three dogs that roam in and outside the house. Their two dogs are still puppies at two years and sisters, Xena and Gabby. My old man, Rusty, will be nine this year. It's been as  much fun watching them settle in here as it's been for us adjusting to the new lifestyle.

The sisters at play

I thought the dogs would be everywhere but they respect the living quarters the same as we humans do. Rusty in particular never goes into the other end of the house unless he thinks there's trouble. One day Xena let out with a yelp. She'd seen an unfamiliar backpack as she went around a corner and who knows what she thought it was? Rusty went charging in to help. Xena and Gabby have extremely different personalities. Xena will step into our area about a body length and wait to be invited in the rest of the way. Gabby barely puts her nose in and looks as if she's ready to flee if you deny her entrance.

Rusty retreats to his own space

All three dogs know to stay out of the kitchen, although Rusty will sneak in and lie just inside the doorway until you boot him out. Xena will walk through on her way to the doggie feeding area, even though there is another door closer. Gabby will try to follow Xena, but if you so much as look at her she darts back from where she came.

The previous owner of our prairie home left us a few items. Most went in the trashcan but not the frog. This piece of yard art is cast iron. I could barely drag it to a suitable spot. There were two frogs on the bench but one guy didn't make it. He had a missing limb and part of his nose had disappeared. The survivor got a new coating of paint and I spruced up his umbrella too. He's the only frog I've seen here. I like frogs, but we're pretty dry on the prairie so I'm not sure if our climate is suited for them. We're only a couple of miles from the start of the Verde River where there could possibly be frogs. I've yet to test my assumption. I think a picnic and exploration trip is in order.

Releasing July 4th

Two of my books feature pets. In Sleeping with the Lights On, Sandra has a chipmunk who resides in her window air conditioner. In my upcoming release, The Morning After, Abigail has a sixteen-pound Siamese cat.

Buy Link

Brenda and her husband are gypsies at heart having lived in six states and two countries. Recently, they moved to prairie country in Arizona and are enjoying the wide-open spaces while tending fruit trees and veggie gardens. They share their space with their dog, Rusty. When Brenda isn’t at her laptop writing, she enjoys hiking, motorcycle riding and the company of good friends.

Visit Brenda at www.brendawhiteside.com.

Or on FaceBook: www.facebook.com/BrendaWhitesideAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/brendawhitesid2

She blogs on the 9^th and 24^th of every month at http://rosesofprose.blogspot.com

She blogs about prairie life on her personal blog http://brendawhiteside.blogspot.com/