Hot August Night Long Ago and Far Away

By Betsy Ashton

August 24, 1972. Blazing hot. Greek theater was packed. Music was amped up. Counter-culture smoke wafted skyward. Tree people leaned dangerously from their illegal perches. The audience was impatient. Lights finally dimmed. The stage went dark. One loud downbeat, and the show started. The musical prologue went on forever.

The crowd was on its feet, all but the tree people. They clung to the limbs, afraid to move too much or fall. No one moved to remove them. Simply not safe in that swirling crowd.

From the opening number to the last encore, we were a collective whole there to adore, the performer there to be adored. Neither let the other down.

I was cheering with "Crunchy Granola Suite," crying with "Song Sung Blue," and rocking with "Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show." Unabashed fan in heaven.

Mind you, this wasn't the first time I'd seen Neil Diamond in concert. And it wasn't the first time I'd been to a concert at the Greek. I lived a 25-minute drive from the theater. (Two hour drive home afer the concerts, though.) I went all the time in the '70s. Noone, not Manilow, not Devo, not great blues artists, not Earl Klugh, nothing wove the spell Diamond did that night.

My friends and I knew he was doing 10 (!) performances at the Greek that summer. All sold out in minutes. Even with our connections, we had opening night seats in the nose-bleed section almost under the tree people. Man, if anyone of them had fallen, we would have been squished. None of us knew the concert was being recorded. When the double-vinyl set come out, and we heard Diamond give a shout out to the tree people, we knew we had witnessed music magic. We could say we were there on that hot August night.

I've seen Diamond in other venues, larger and smaller, since, but when I think back on that night, when I listen to the CD (now, because I played the grooves off the vinyl), I can still feel the heat of the bodies, the smell of really, really good grass, the music pounding and whispering, the shrieks from the audience. And the grateful bows from Neil Diamond himself.

I wouldn't have my hot August memory any other way.

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

What Does "Family Vacation" Mean to You? by Alison Henderson

If you live near one coast or the other, it might mean a week at the beach (or shore, if you live on the East Coast). Families in the upper Midwest go up north to the lake - any lake. But I grew up in the dead center of the country, Kansas City. To get away to any place other than flat farmland, we had to drive hundreds of miles.

Every summer, my father would take a week off from his law practice, load our family of six into our Chevy station wagon, and drive thirteen hours across Kansas to the YMCA camp in Estes Park, Colorado. I can't imagine doing that now, but we didn't think anything of it at the time. Before we left, my three siblings and I decided on our seats for the trip. As the eldest, I got first pick and always chose the passenger-side window in the back seat. My brother was relegated to the way back with the luggage because he was the only boy and the most rambunctious. This was the 'sixties, before seat belt laws, when the state patrol wouldn't stop you for having an unrestrained child bouncing around the back of the car. It's a miracle we all survived.

Our car had air conditioning, although it quickly lost effectiveness the farther back one sat. But today's children would be stunned to learn we had no DVD or gaming system. I could never read in a moving car because of motion sickness, so I spent most of the time gazing out the window and daydreaming. Maybe those hours nurtured the incipient writer in me. 

After the suffocating heat of Kansas in August, Colorado was always a welcome change. I loved the rugged peaks and crisp mountain air. I learned to ride horseback and fish for trout in crystal clear streams. I haven't done either of those things since, but I do have fond memories. I was pleased to learn that my recently widowed, eighty-three-year-old mother has the opportunity to go back to Estes Park with a group from her church this month. I'm sure it will be a wonderfully nostalgic experience for her.

Do you have favorite memories of family vacations?
Alison
www.alisonhenderson.com
http://alisonhenderson.blogspot.com

Vacation Destinations Numbers 1-5

And now to conclude my list of vacation destinations. If you missed numbers 6-10, find my August 4th post and catch up!

5. Bermuda

People keep telling me I should go, so I'll pop it on this list. Hey, I'm always open to suggestions. Especially ones that involve packing only a swimsuit.

4. New Orleans, Louisiana

I heart Harry Connick Jr. and Harry Connick Jr. hearts New Orleans. So...that's it.

3. Vermont

I have a place here. I eventually want to live here, but for now, I'll take weekending in this beautiful state with the quiet mountains. That's the view from my great room windows. Sick, right?

2. Bon Temps, Louisiana

Okay, okay, I know it's not a real place, but damn! I want to go there soooo bad. Click HERE to see a fun website about the True Blood fictional town.

1. Alaska

I went on a cruise here in 2000. Best vacation EVER! I'd love to go back and do a more land-focused tour. Get up close and personal with some Alaskan wildlife. Sometimes I reread parts of my book ALASKA HEART to pretend I'm there. Seriously, if you haven't been, go. You won't regret a single minute of it.

So I guess I'd better start saving for some of these excursions so I can cross them off my list. I do so love crossing things off lists.

Do you have any trips planned? Where to?

Toodles,
Chris
www.christinedepetrillo.weebly.com Adult Romance
www.christymajor.weebly.com YA Romance
www.christineteaches.weebly.com Teaching Writing

Hot not-fun in the summertime

I am feeling nostalgic because 2 years ago (in July) we moved from Minnesota to Iowa. And we moved on what might have been the hottest day of the year.

The movers came to the MN house early in the a.m. and worked for 5 or 6 hours. We had all the doors open, of course, and by the time they were done, the tile floor in the basement was slippery with "sweat" from the air co running and the humidity outside, fighting to get in. I literally mopped up the floor with towels and then turned it over to the cleaning crew.

We proceeded to IA a few days later for our closing there, and the next day the furniture arrived. The poor movers: they couldn't get the truck down our driveway (very long, very narrow). So they parked in the street and used dollies to get everything in.

One guy almost passed out from heat exhaustion. I stocked plenty of water and we went through it fast. We didn't have as much sweating in the new house because there was carpeting, not wood floors, but in a couple of spots it was slippery.

We tipped them well -- believe me, we did. They spent at least 10 hours in blistering heat to get all our stuff moved. And believe it or not, there was only one item that broke (and that because of bad packing on my part).

I've moved about 30 times in my life, and summer moves vie with dead-of-winter moves as the worst. There's one small thing in favor of summer moves -- the cold beverage at the end of it all!

J L
(jayellwilson.com)

Prepartions in August are HOT for our September vacation.

Vonnie Davis

One month from today we will be temporary residents in our Parisian apartment, enjoying all the sights, sounds and smells of the Left Bank. Our little rental is just a few blocks from where Hemingway lived post WWI as part of The Lost Generation. I cannot wait. This will be my second journey to the City of Light, while for Calvin it'll be like going home. Calvin will quickly tell you he was born in Lynchburg, Virginia, but his soul came to life in Paris. He lived there for a year, writing at sidewalk cafés.

Our keys for the three-room flat on the second European floor (third floor by American standards) arrived last week. Our passports are in order. Airplane tickets purchased for our overnight flight to Paris and then, two-weeks later, our flight to Berlin to see Calvin's son for a week. Our euros are on order. Calvin's French is refreshed after two months of daily lessons on Pimsluer CD's. We're getting more anxious by the day.

I have two story ideas I want to research while in Paris. One is a contemporary; the other is an historical set during The Lost Generation. Both, of course, will be romances. I'll be snapping pictures of the area like mad so I can study them for details when I'm working on the novels.

Setting stories in Paris is not new to me. Both Mona Lisa's Room and Rain is a Love Song are set mainly in Paris. Both involve a terrorist group known as the Red Hand. The heroes are agents in the French Counterterrorism Unit. My heroines are strong, plucky, opinionated sisters from North Carolina.

Mona Lisa's Room won the HOLT Medallion Award of Merit in two categories: Best Romantic Suspense and Best Book by a Virginia author.

I allowed more of my demented humor to show in Rain is a Love Song, which may or may not be a good thing. Calvin just shook his head when I showed him a few scenes.

What stories will my second trip to Paris spawn? I can hardly wait to find out. They might just be as "hawt" as our hot August nights.

BUY LINKS:
Mona Lisa's Room -- http://www.amazon.com/Mona-Lisas-Room-ebook/dp/B00A553HLY/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1376278251&sr=8-1

Rain is a Love Song -- http://www.amazon.com/Rain-Love-Song-Conspiracy-ebook/dp/B00BK9QV3K/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376278355&sr=8-1&keywords=rain+is+a+love+song

Lessons Learned: No Hot August Nights or Favorite Summer Vacations Required

By Margo Hoornstra

My turn to blog but what to write about? Those Hot August Nights and Favorite Summer Vacations are the topics this month. Let me see. Hot August Nights – Dog Days of Summer – Teach An Old Dog New Tricks. Ah, there! A topic I can use. I’ll even throw in a reference to vacation in order to remain bloglitically correct.

A little over a year ago, a completed manuscript of mine was going nowhere. An editor who has contracted virtually everything I’ve offered her over the past six years read it, requested rewrites, read it again after those and passed. She even suggested I submit to a different line at the house. Maybe that was the problem. Two editors there did much the same as she had, then ultimately passed.

Enter editor number one with a call for submissions on a new, Dearly Beloved wedding stories series. Taking a vacation (ahem!) from Completed Manuscript Going Nowhere, I penned two novellas she absolutely loved (her words, not mine) then quickly contracted. Now those are put to bed, in the editorial sense, Night Stars and Mourning Doves released in June, Only If You Dare release date to be announced.

In and around completing the Dearly Beloveds, I did a few manuscript exchanges with my critique partner and worked as a content and line editor for an independent publisher. Boy did I get good at ferreting out the defects in the manuscripts I reviewed (with all due respect to CP, of course). I could spot a section of telling that needed to be shown. Pick out weak sentences and make them stronger. Even suggest plot twists and, forget those dangling participles, what about the story arcs left dangling, literally, at the end.

My message to these authors was clear. Fix them or get rid of them! I became heady with the power I wielded. Until I ran out of their work and it was time to bring out Completed Manuscript Going Nowhere and do my best to make it into Completed Manuscript Going Somewhere. First I had to figure out what was wrong with it.

To paraphrase – What a difference a year makes. Turns out the blatant flaws I’d so readily recognized in the work of others were alive, well and thriving in mine. Here’s a sample of what I learned I had learned.

Show don’t tell – man oh man did I have plenty of those spots.

Eliminate all dialogue tags. Use character action instead.
“How are you?” she asked then extended her hand.
“How are you?” She extended her hand.
She extended her hand. “How are you?”

Avoid the use of adjectives and adverbs. Choose stronger nouns and verbs instead.
She closed the door angrily.
She slammed the door.
She walked strongly toward him.
She strode toward him.

One my CP so wisely pointed out, don’t have something begin to happen, have it happen.
It began to dawn on him.
It dawned on him.
She began to make her way down the stairs.
She made her way down the stairs.

As a final, visual aid, this is an excerpt from Completed Manuscript Going Nowhere I hope to change to Completed Manuscript Going Somewhere.

Version One: fatal flaws intact.

"If you hold these in place, I’ll attach them," he said as he situated a board under the nearest window. Then he motioned her to steady one end while he secured the other with an appropriately bent knee.

“Okay,” she replied then hurried over to do as he had asked her.

“Keep it steady,” he told her. Positioning a large nail midway between the top and bottom edges of the board, he hefted the hammer he then swung up and then back as he made ready to land the first strike.

“No! Wait!” A glint from under the sill had caught her eye and at the same time, something told her she’d be exceedingly sorry if she didn’t find out what it was.

She lunged forward letting her side of the board swing free and the hammer he still held veered up then nearly flew out of his hand as Brad struggled to bring the tool down in a harmless arc. Then the handle shifted out of his grip causing him to land a sharp, sideways blow. Struck at an odd angle, the nail bent in half before it imbedded, crossways, into the wood. With his thumb pinned firmly underneath.

“Damn!” he cried out.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” Jenny informed him as she scrambled around the dangling board to kneel in front of him. Shooting her hand out, she rested it on his arm.

Hammer dropped to the ground, he yanked for what seemed like forever before he was finally able to pry himself loose.

“Damn,” he said on a shaky exhale, then he gingerly laid the wound against his mid-section.

“Are you okay?” she wanted to know.

Staring skyward, he sucked in then blew out a few harsh breaths at last ending with a tersely spoken, “I’m fine.”

Version Two: fatal flaws, hopefully, corrected.

“If you hold these in place, I’ll attach them.” Situating a board under the nearest window, he motioned her to steady one end while he secured the other with an appropriately bent knee.

She hurried over. “Okay.”

“Keep it steady.” He positioned a large nail midway between the top and bottom edges of the board, hefted the hammer, then swung up and back ready to land the first strike.

A glint from under the sill caught her eye. Something told her she’d regret it if she didn’t find out what was there. “No! Wait!”

She lunged forward letting her side of the board swing free. The hammer veered up then nearly flew out of his hand as Brad struggled to bring it down in a harmless arc. The handle shifted from his grip to land a sharp, sideways blow. Struck at an odd angle, the nail bent in half before it imbedded, crossways, into the wood. With his thumb pinned firmly underneath.

“Damn!”

Jenny scrambled around the dangling board to kneel in front of him. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” Her hand shot out to rest on his arm.

Hammer dropped to the ground, he yanked for what seemed forever to pry himself loose. “Damn.” On a shaky exhale, he gingerly held the wound against his mid-section.

“Are you okay?”

Staring skyward, he sucked in then blew out a few harsh breaths. “I’m fine.”

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