Don'tcha Just Hate It? by Betsy Ashton

Since I was a child, I was taught that hating people was wrong. I learned that lesson well. I try not to hate anyone. When I feel the negative vibes creeping in, I go to my special place and face the hatred demon. Then I banish it.

That said, I hate many things. I hate not being a kid again. My first childhood was about what most of us experience. I had no control over what happened, so it was schizophrenic. Some parts were good; some

not. My second childhood, on the other hand, is all mine. I can do with it as I wish. I can have great conversations with my imaginary friends. I'm a writer, after all. I must have imaginary friends. I can let them take over and do things I dream of doing. I can wait for a snow storm to make snow angels, only to miss out on the snow and have to make an asphalt angel.

I can listen to one of my favorite imaginary friends, Mad Max, who just happens to be the protagonist of Mad Max Unintended Consequences. She likes being the goofy mad, not the angry mad, so I let her. As if I had any control over what she does. In the second Mad Max book, she hula-hoops in Walmart, wears clown makeup at dinner one night and dons blinking red pompoms on her head when she goes to an airport. I think I'll wear a red clown nose to one of the Navy games next year.

I hate people telling me I can't do something. True, I don't think I'll skydive, not because of age or infirmity, but because I am piss-scared of heights. I did ride a mule to the bottom of the Grand Canyon when I was 11, but I didn't look down. I'd kinda like to do that again.

I hate carrots. Truly, down deep inside, hate carrots. I will eat them in stews and soups, but eat a Bugs Bunny carrot? Not touching my lips. Uh huh. No way, no how. My vegetarian friends criticize me for eating meat, chicken and fish. They can't counter my argument that carrots may have souls. Far be it from me to deny a carrot its soul.

I hate the doubters who rolled their eyes when I said I was going to be a published writer. "Yeah, sure," was what I heard whispered behind my back. "Good luck," to my face. Well, I am a published writer. I did find an agent at Blue Ridge Literary Agency, who sold Max 1 to an smaller, up-and-coming publisher, Koehler Books. Together, we produced a good novel with a wonderful cover, top quality paper and a ready fan base

who wanted to buy the book as soon as it came out.

And now for my snow angel. We finally got enough to make an angel. I can't tell you how much fun it was to be six again, even for a minute or two, even with a snow-wet butt afterwards.

Don'tcha just hate missing out on these moments?

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Betsy Ashton's novel, Mad Max Unintended Consequences, is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Betsy is available to talk with book clubs near and far. 

A Lot To Love, Plenty To Hate by Margo Hoornstra

I live in the upper Midwest. As I write this it's snowing - again - still - forever, it seems. Near white out conditions in fact.


According to those who know such things, we are already way above our usual snowfall totals for an entire year. With much more to come before Spring.


If that furry little guy from Pennsylvania is to be believed. 


I'm beginning to HATE Winter. Which is odd for me since usually I LOVE Winter. Gliding and spinning on razor sharp ice skates. The swoosh, swoosh rhythm of cross country skis.


By its Nature - pun intended - Winter begs to be described.



 A blast of Arctic air rolling into the streets.


The first breath on an icy morning, nostrils flash frozen.


Frigid air crackles, snow creaks underfoot.


Freezing rain traps trees and bushes in tombs of ice.

Fingers gone numb.


Wind pelting, eyes watering.    

 Slick roads. Cars slide sideways.


Iced over puddles.

Mittens, scarves, hats and boots.


Warm lips kiss a chilled cheek.


Engine heated air flows into a newly started car.


Seasoned wood sizzling in the grate.


Extra blankets on the bed.


A loved one snuggled close.




Okay, so maybe Winter does offer some instances to LOVE.


Relatives in Arizona brag about abundant sunshine, temperatures in the eighties.


Oh, good. Something else to HATE. Not them, of course, just when they do that.


Happy Spring, Everyone! Eventually!


Margo


My days to blog here are the 11th and 23th. Please check out my WEBSITE

Two of my latest titles, Only If You Dare and Night Stars and Mourning Doves have recently been released from the DEARLY BELOVED series.





These novellas, along with some short stories there for free, are available on my AUTHOR PAGE at The Wild Rose Press.

Hate

I hate surprises. They cause me stress. I like to expect what’s coming next. That way I can plan, plan, plan. I don’t do anything on impulse. I never show up at people’s houses without a formal invite. I don’t open the door to people who try to visit me without a formal invite.

I hate change. Big changes, little changes. Doesn’t matter. I loathe them equally. I eat the same thing for breakfast and lunch every work day.

Yes, every work day.

 

I’d eat the same thing for dinner too if I could get away with it. I’d wear a uniform as well so I didn’t have to make outfit decisions, because… well, I hate making outfit decisions.

 

I hate wasting time. I schedule out my day pretty precisely so as to maximize what I can accomplish. If I can’t climb into bed at night and list the many things I’ve done that day, I’m not happy.

I hate being stuck indoors, which is really limited to torrential rain instances. Any other weather, including blowing, frigid snow, my dog and I are outside loving every minute of what Mother Nature throws at us.

I hate hating stuff. Wouldn’t it be awesome if everything we encountered made us happy? Imagine walking around and saying, “This is great!” to all kinds of things. Stuck in traffic? “This is great! Now I can rock out to my favorite songs on the kickin’ sound system in my car.” Tripped in the hallway at work? “This is great! I just made all my coworkers roll with laughter.” Dropped a glass bottle onto your sandaled feet in the supermarket? “This is great! Now a super hot EMT is picking glass out of my toes and commenting on what beautiful feet I have.”

 

Glass half full, people. It’s all about perspective. I have to remember this whenever I feel the hate coming on. Surprises can be good. Change can be for the better. Outfit decisions can bring about confidence. Wasted time might not be wasted at all—a little couch-potatoing is good for the soul. Being stuck indoors is the perfect time to read and write.

 
There’s no reason to hate. It takes energy to hate. Energy you could be using to love something instead.

Choose love.

 
Happy Valentine’s Day! Enjoy!

 

Toodles,

Chris

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