Welcome to the new year

I normally don't celebrate New Year's, but I do use it as a chance to assess where I am and where I'm going.

I have a book coming out this year, a book ready to submit for next year, and I've re-read all the books in my series to fix consistency issues. I'm ready to start writing the next volume of the series, and I'm in the "sit and think" mode for it. I'm this close to starting to write.

I had hoped to retire from the Paycheck Job this year, but I may hold off. I'm nervous about the Republicans in power and what they will do to Medicare and Social Security, two things I'll rely on for retirement. I have a good job and I can hang on, but I'd rather leave while I'm still at the top of my game. So that's on hold, I think.

As others have posted, one thing that's a major difference this year than in years previous is my concern about social and government change. I am deeply suspicious about the new power structure in D.C. and I expect I'll need to commit more time to social issues, including marching, writing letters, calling elected officials, and other ways to be engaged. I haven't felt this way since the 1960s when I was thrown in jail for protesting the Vietnam War (it was a minor overnight stay, but one I'll never forget). It amazes me that I'm back to Protest Mode at this stage of my life.

The may be other changes coming up -- nothing to discuss here, but a few things may be looming on the horizon. But that's how life is -- it's full of changes, ups and downs. The most important thing I can do is try to maintain my own equilibrium and my own moral compass and act accordingly.

And of course, there's always my writing. This year I'm designing a new legal structure in my book. Now *this* will be fun.

J L
(jayellwilson.com)

Some New Years Thoughts by Margo Hoornstra

Day six post op. Slowly, I’m starting to feel like myself again. The dread and fear are behind me. The inevitable pain is well controlled.

I have a blog post due.

These pages at Roses of Prose have taken on a political bent of late. Which is fine. How wonderful to live in a country where political dissent is the norm.

All well and good, if used wisely. If not, well, let me explain…

Yesterday I figuratively lost my favorite cousin and a cherished niece. Both are teachers, one still working, one retired. Another well-loved family member happens to be an administrator in a district where contract negotiations are going on, have been going on for quite some time. Believe me, it isn’t pretty. There are accusations and counter accusations flying around, many are half truths at best, quite a few others are down right lies. Most of it, unfortunately, playing out on FaceBook. The hurt feelings and despair are heartbreaking.

So, my fellow Roses, continue to champion your causes, protest as you will. Just remember there are others who might not totally agree with you or have the same agenda. Others who have their own ideas, desires and feelings too.

As my husband and I were contemplating the future, he suggested this. With open minds and willing hearts, just imagine what we can all accomplish.

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

Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot? ............. NEVER! by Margo Hoornstra

Before I forget – Happy New Year!

Out with the old and in with the new, as they say. Eleven days and counting, how’s your 2016 going for you so far?

With family and friends near, a new four book series -- Brothers In Blue -- almost halfway finished, my 2016 is already shaping up to show some promise.

Compared to 2015 which, for me, didn’t end on the best of notes.

While I recovered from the discomfort of a bout of post-Christmas dental work, (what in the world was I thinking when I scheduled that appointment?) a touch of the flu came by for good measure. A couple of stitches in my mouth, a jaw that would only open so far. Let me tell you, it wasn’t pretty.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Eventually, I recovered, only to be reminded pain medication and antibiotics don’t mix well with alcohol. The glass or two of Chardonnay I so enjoy now and then wasn’t allowed. On New Year’s Eve, no less. (Is it any wonder I hit the pillow at ten o’clock and briefly acknowledged the arrival of midnight when a neighbor’s fireworks woke me up?)

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

This was. Though it still troubles me to talk about the horrific incident – here goes.

Toward the final days of 2015, I reached in the closet for my favorite pair of jeans. You know the kind I’m talking about. We've all been fortunate to have at least one such pair in our lives. The pull them on anytime and wear them anywhere kind of jeans. So comfortable, you don't even know they're on kind of jeans. The kind you top with a tee-shirt or sweatshirt and running shoes for casual outings. Maybe a nice sweater or blazer with blouse and boots for more formal excursions.

This pair of mine called to me one day at the mall with its unusual beadwork on the pockets that appealed to my child-of-the-sixties genes. True Native American worthy beadwork, mind you. Not the stuck-on glittery sequins and jewels popular on the backsides of jeans these days.

These jeans of mine fit perfectly from that first moment in the dressing room. The length was right too. Not something I, at five eight, normally take for granted.

We were a happy, well, pair, these jeans and I…until that fateful day in late December. Hands on the waist band, I fluffed them out ready to step inside. That’s when I discovered to my horror, the back seam had given in, rather out, and – it so hurts to admit this – I had to throw them away.

In my defense, this was not a rip of the right-along-the-stitch-line-and-easily-fixed variety. Oh no. This damage was far more permanent and UN fixable I’m afraid. This was a total and complete separation of denim at the individual fiber level. After too many washings, dryings and wearings to count, the once proud and sturdy material finally gave way, literally, to the wear and tear of life. Those jeans put up with a lot. They withstood muddy paw prints from exuberant family dogs, sopped up drool, spit up and other liquid excretions from four new born grandchildren. (One of whom is driving age now!) Yikes!

These weren't my only pair of jeans, mind you. They were just very, very special. All told, I’d say I got many long and happy years out of the beaded wonders. While I will miss them terribly, I’ve already found a new brand and style that fits. They hold their shape and structure through the washer and dryer both. They’re comfortable in a we’ll-get-there-eventually kind of way.

It’s hard, very hard, but I’m trying to adjust the best I can. Out with the old and in with the new, as they say.

Again. Happy New Year, Everyone!

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

 

Idle hands make mischief by Barbara Edwards

Feeling out of sorts

With all the bustle of the Holidays smashed by a nasty virus that lasted almost a week, I’ve been idle. This is scary. I’m always busy. Either working, finishing, starting or just planning my next move is the way I live. I like being busy.

Being ill forced me to stop. I was quarantined for five days with the nurovirus.

The TV only offered limited channels that quickly bored me to death.

I did have my kindle and a number of the wonderful ebooks offered free by many of my friends. Only I had a headache.

I slept the first couple days. I looked outside. I threw up often.

I sat and wished to be better. I spent time being angry and upset that my valuable days had been ruined by a germ.

I tried typing and found my hands so shaky the words were unreadable.

So I stopped. Does this make sense? I stopped. Not so simple for a type A personality.

I looked at my unpainted fingernails.

I took a long soak in the tub.

I fluffed the pillows and sat under the covers.

I sent my husband out. I hope that makes you laugh. I wanted to help make me better and drove me crazy with his fussing.

I hugged the quiet like a fluffy teddy bear.

I let my thoughts roam like butterflies searching a meadow.

Somehow all of this has turned out to be a good thing.

I am rested.

Although I didn’t aim for it, I lost five pounds.

I have the end of my book firmly plotted.

I didn’t make any New Year’s Resolutions and find the lack freeing. I don’t need to think about my eating habits, my exercise routine or my writing habits.

And I won’t have to feel guilty over failing to keep them.

Maybe I’ve discovered a new way to begin the year. Or maybe not.

After the long days

Visit www.barbaraedwards.net for excerpts from my books, free reads and links to my blog, Facebook page and Twitter.

Have a Happy and Healthy New Year.