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Gina blew out the 19 candles and her family clapped. She’d taken the bus overnight to be home because she knew how much her being there would mean to her mother. Her father handed her a small box, nicely wrapped, and everyone watched expectantly as she unwrapped it. It contained some car keys. “Happy Birthday, Gina,” everyone yelled. “I got a car?” she asked. “Yeah, just look out the front door,” her father replied, the excitement in his voice bubbling over. Gina ran to the front door, threw it open and looked in the driveway. Nothing there. “Across the street,” her father’s voice behind her instructed. She’d noticed the white Camry when her Mom and Dad drove in with her this morning but figured it belonged to a neighbor. She ran across the street, fitted the key in the lock and opened the car door. Her father was right behind her. “I know it’s a little old, a 2003. But it’s in great shape, only two owners,” he told her. “Last one ran it into a tree, but the damage was completely fixed, good as new.” “So why was it sold?” “Kid got shook, and his mother refused to let him drive again for a year. Good mileage, too, less than 60,000. We figured you might want to drive home instead of taking the bus.” Gina got in, adjusted the seat and looked around. The inside was pristine and smelled almost new; she was sure her father had spent hours cleaning it. She was equally sure the car was a way for her parents to wangle her home more often. She loved it, though, and promised herself she would drive home more frequently. The she noticed it: a GPS unit attached to the front windshield. “Dad, it’s even got a GPS! Did you buy that for me?” “No, sweetie, it came with the car. But I feel a whole lot safer that you’ll have a GPS to help you find your way around and not get lost in some bad places.” “Fantastic, Dad. I could never afford one for myself. Thank you so much for my car!” She got out and gave him a bear hug.   Throughout the spring semester, Gina drove her prized possession, taking her girlfriends out for fun nights at local spots, and yes, driving home at least once a month. And she used the GPS unit, too. At first she was somewhat put off by the vaguely slimy male British accent of the voice, and try as she might, she couldn’t figure out how to change it. She knew the newer units let you choose the voice you wanted. But after a while, she got used to it and trusted that voice to find where she needed to be and to get her there. It became her lifeline, just as her Dad said. Her college roommate Kate asked her to visit her in July. Kate lived in Wyoming and Gina had never been west of Wisconsin, so she said yes and asked when? It was decided she would drive there at the end of May, after finals were over and before she began her summer internship at a local vet’s office. Gina set off for Wyoming with Kate’s address programmed into the GPS and she also had maps her father had gotten for her at AAA. Kate lived in the small town of Lander, near the Wind River Range, and Gina was excited to see the mountains and compare small town western life to hers in Chicago.   Her leaving was not without family turmoil. The drive was 18 hours, too long for one day, her Dad declared and offered to buy her a plane ticket to the nearest big airport in Casper. But Gina stubbornly held to her idea of a great adventure, and only gave in to her parents’ demand that she stop for the night in North Platte, Nebraska. Gina snuck out of the house at 4AM on the day she planned to leave, figuring that she could make it to Kate’s home by 10 or 11 that night, if she drove straight through. She had a hamper of food and a cooler of drinks her mother had prepared the night before and her GPS. She could do it, and she shivered with excitement as she started her car and drove quietly off. She hadn’t realized how long an 18-hour drive could be after she’d been on the road for about eight hours. She played the radio, ate, talked to her parents on the phone several times, stopped for gas and the bathroom, stretched and counted the time. When she came to North Platte, she almost stopped, but then thought I can surprise Kate. In their last phone call, she assured Kate she was going to stop, but now that she was this far, she wanted to push on. The GPS reminded her from time to time where she was, how many miles to go, and when she finally reached Lander just short of 11, she felt a great sense of accomplishment. She found the dark here overwhelming, no streetlights like in Chicago, just the stars and blackness all around. The GPS now took her off the main road, and she was comforted by the voice that would take her up into the mountains to Kate’s. It seemed that this last part of the drive was interminable. Because the car was dark and she didn’t want to stop, she couldn’t check her maps. She trusted the GPS would get her there, following the voice’s commands through zigs and zags up the mountain side, turns onto side roads, until finally she was on what appeared to be a narrow gravel driveway. At last! Kate said they had a gravel drive and it was not easy to find. Gina thought she could see lights ahead and stepped on the gas, so anxious to be there. Her Camry shot forward and all of a sudden

I read a post the other day where the theme was rebellion, and I immediately thought of one of the few times I was truly rebellious with my parents. It all began with spinach. I like spinach, now that I’m an adult and can have it in lasagna, a baby spinach and beet salad, or sautéed with onions and garlic. As a child, however, I was served boiled spinach. No butter, salt or seasonings, just a great lump of shriveled spinach in a bowl with green liquid in the bottom. My mother was a great believer in greens: spinach, beet greens (equally loathed) or dandelion greens picked from the lawn (I won’t even go there). Usually I just choked the spinach down, because my father was a chair, CEO, and director of the Clean Plate Club. We were all members, and the only rule was members had to clean their plates of food at every meal. It took years to undue the effect of that rule! One Friday night, Mom served us our usual fish along with a bowl of spinach. I wasn’t happy with the fish, but ate it out of Catholic guilt. Teamed with the spinach, however, the meal was a real downer. I didn’t eat it. Dad insisted. I demurred. Dad insisted again, louder. I rebelled. “If you don’t eat that spinach now, you will have it for breakfast, cold. And NO dessert,” he bellowed. He did not like to be contradicted. “May I be excused, please?” “You may go to your room.” I got up from the table without saying what I was thinking, but I could hear him grumbling about wasting perfectly good food all the way up to my room. There on the table the next morning was that bowl, now with ice cold spinach, sitting like a lump of accusation, awaiting me for breakfast. Everyone else was having pancakes. I regarded it with loathing while everyone ate. When breakfast was over, Dad told me, “You will have it for lunch. Go to your room.” I don’t know what I did that morning, but I do remember not being particularly hungry. I overheard my mother pleading with my father to forget the spinach. Something about my being a growing girl and needing food. Not surprisingly, my father was intransigent. Cold spinach for lunch. Same reaction. By mid-afternoon, Mom was getting frantic. I could hear her begging my Dad to let her give me something to eat. When I came into the kitchen sometime that afternoon, Mom said, “I left the spinach out, so it’s not ice cold. If you only eat one bite, I’ll tell him you ate it…please?” She looked so distressed, I decided I could manage one bite. So I sat down, picked up the smallest amount I could and still have it qualify as a bite, and popped it in my mouth. Mom smiled and took the bowl away. “Would you like a cheese dream?” she asked. That’s a toasted cheese sandwich in our family, in case you’re wondering. I nodded, got up from the table and casually walked to the downstairs bathroom — where I closed the door, spit the spinach into the toilet, and flushed. Everyone came out a winner. I noticed we hardly ever had spinach after that — and never on a Friday. 0 0

Fellow blogger Irene Waters (whom my daughter and son-in-law met during their trip to Australia last year) kindly took time to read my first book and write a review on her blog. It is such a nice review, I just had to post it on mine. Thank you so much, Irene! Checkout Irene’s blog, Reflections and Nightmares, at http://irenewaters19.com/http://irenewaters19.com/ **** I have had fellow blogger, Noelle Granger, book, Death in a Red Canvas Chair, on my Kindle for about a year. What with books I had to read for my research and book club I just couldn’t get the time to read it until the few days I took off over Christmas and it was worth the wait. Although this is not Noelle’s first published book it is the first in her mystery series of Rhe Brewster, a woman just like you or I. Well that is if you are a woman and perhaps not quite like me as she gets embroiled in solving the mystery of the body she finds at the end of her son’s soccer game at one end of the field. Rhe is a nurse, a mother, a wife and lover (to the same man) and girlfriend. She is a normal woman with a larger than life curiosity and luckily a brother who is head of police who likes Rhe’s advice, and being a nurse she can also wheedle her way in with the medical examiner. She’s also at home on the university campus where her husband teaches. Reading Death in a Red Canvas Chair I was reminded of my enjoyment for Janet Evanovitch’s number series with Stephanie Plum who was a bail bond agent who always got into scrapes. The similarity lay in the ordinariness of the protagonist (Rhe/Stephanie) which as a reader you can relate to your own life such as coffee drinking, juggling family and job, confidences with girlfriends, food, (I loved Rhe she was a cook like me), the easy coversational tone of the narrative which as a reader you can’t help but be drawn into and a storyline that moves with action from one scene to the next. They often advise when writing, to write what you know and I think Noelle has done this well drawing on her knowledge of medicine, sailing and observer of human life. I would classify this book as a light, easy and enjoyable read particularly if you enjoy a mystery. I’m wondering if it will take me another year before I can get to read Noelle’s sequel Death in Dacron Sail as I look forward to more adventures with Rhe. 0 0

I just HAD to repost this from Nicholas Rossi’s blog. I see a plethora of book titles…   Continuing the three-part special on birds that started with A 400-Year-Old Book Made Entirely of Feathers, here is a post that deals with a truly thorny issue: You’ve just spotted a bunch of birds… Source: A Bunch of Birds. Or is That a Watch of Nightingales? 0 0

Cover Art by Jason Pedersen       Legends of Windermere  – The Mercenary Prince by Charles Yallowitz is new and is available on Amazon for $2.99  This is Book 9 in this fantastic fantasy series. About the author: I met Charles through the blogosphere and enjoy his sense of humor. Here is his description of himself: Moniker:  Charles Edward Yallowitz Origin:  Long Island, NY Birthday: April 9th (that’s all you get)                                        Marital Status:  Legally binding, I checked                         Sex: Ask my wife                                    Children:  No thanks.  I already have one.     He was born, raised, and educated in New York, spent a few years in Florida, realized his fear of alligators, and moved back to the Empire State. He recounts that he spent most of his life wandering his own imagination in a blissful haze. Occasionally, he would return from this world for the necessities such as food, showers, and Saturday morning cartoons. One day he returned from his imagination and decided he would share his stories with the world, and the result is Legends of Windermere. When he isn’t writing, he  can be found cooking or going on whatever adventure his son has planned for the day. If you are familiar with his blog, you know he is a prodigious writer Synopsis: Delvin Cunningham has left the champions. Lost to his tribe in the Yagervan Plains, fear and shame have kept the former Mercenary Prince away from his homeland. With his confidence crumbling, he has decided to return and bring closure to his past. Reuniting with his old friends, Delvin’s timing could not be worse as a deadly campaign is brewing within Yagervan’s borders. Dawn Fangs are on the march and these powerful vampires are determined to turn the entire region into a graveyard. To protect his family, friends, and two homelands, Delvin will have to push his doubt away and become the cunning Mercenary Prince once again. Excerpt from The Mercenary Prince With the hint of a smirk, Selenia quickens her pace and unleashes a barrage of blows on her former student. Each strike and stab is deflected by the sweat-covered champion, his speed increasing to match her every time. At one point, the half-elf leaps forward and is struck in her stomach by his shield, which forces her to flip over his head. The headmistress lands in a crouch and whirls around to block the counterattack, the point of Delvin’s sword gently running along the leather patch over her stomach. Realizing that he is still holding back, Selenia bats his next attack away and delivers a painful kick to his exposed side. The blow knocks him against the fountain and he comes dangerously close to falling into the water. While rubbing his bruised side, Delvin circles the headmistress who turns to continue facing him. He makes a few feints that she refuses to acknowledge because they are clumsy and pathetically amateurish. The gathered students and teachers shout for more action, all of them believing the brown-haired warrior to be afraid of the legendary woman. None of them realize that his circles have been getting tighter and his fake attacks have caused Selenia to misjudge his distance. It is something she realizes when Delvin makes a quick swing for her hip and their weapons strike closer to their hilts than she expects. The moment the half-elf steps back to gain some space, her former student pushes forward with precise strikes that mirror the onslaught she previously unleashed. Without a shield, the headmistress finds it more difficult to block every attack and has to twist her body away from several attacks. The movements prevent her from throwing a kick or punch, which would probably hit the shield that he has yet to include in his advance. Selenia eventually catches Delvin’s blade and slides her weapon along its edge to step within his swinging range. The pair push against each other, their muscles straining to gain the upper hand. Every time one of them is about to gain ground, their opponent shifts enough to continue the frustrating stalemate. With a grunt of exertion, Delvin moves his shield in front of the headmistress’s face and blocks her view. Knowing she is expecting him to push forward, the warrior falls onto his back and lets the surprised half-elf’s momentum slam her face into the wooden disc. The back of his head bounces off the ground as he flicks his wrist to deliver an extra shot to Selenia’s chin. She rolls away from him to recover her senses, but Delvin scrambles to keep her in reach and continue his attack as they stand. “You actually hit me,” Selenia states when she notices that her nose is bleeding. She ducks under her opponent’s swing and aims her hilt for his stomach, the blow only grazing his shirt. “I think you’ve achieved two firsts for this academy, Delvin. Nobody has ever drawn my blood or made me dizzy during a match.” You can find Charles: Blog: Legends of Windemere Twitter: @cyallowitz Facebook: Charles Yallowitz Website: www.charleseyallowitz.com As always, if you enjoy this book, don’t forget to write a review for Amazon and copy it to Goodreads! 0 0

These stats got thrown my way so I thought I’s put them out there. Blogging hard to keep y’all interested!   Here’s an excerpt: The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 12,000 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it. Click here to see the complete report. 0 0

The bad: losing my hard drive – I learned a few days ago that NOTHING was recoverable from the drive. I am only medium blue, because some things I did save to my external hard drive. The ugly: getting older – more wrinkles, hard work to maintain muscle strength, and aches and pains associated with arthritis. Perseverance is the name of the game, but discouraging to know it’s all downhill from here. From FreeImages.com/ There is a dignity to old age, though. This woman has gravitas. The good: more than enough to balance off the bad and the ugly. Publishing my second book, having a vacation in Chicago with my daughter and son-in-law, my trip to Maine, seeing my son (briefly), sky-diving (!), getting to the end of my third book and sending it off to beta readers, swimming anywhere there was water, and of course, the interaction with my family of bloggers. Never a dull moment there and lots to stimulate my brain. Learning should definitely be life-long. In keeping with what I hope will be a regular feature of my blog, I want to introduce new followers: Stuart Aken at http://stuartaken.net/. He’s a writer of news, reviews, writing advice and events and I’ve loved his blog for some time. Michael S. Fedison at https://eyedancers.wordpress.com/ – A site devoted to the young adult sci-fi/fantasy novel The Eye-Dancers. I know a lot of you out there like YA fiction. Blmaluso at https://somebodylovesmeblog.wordpress.com – Sharing God’s love with the world, one heart at a time. A very gentle and sweet blog. Rob A. Smith who blogs at https://tycobbsteeth.wordpress.com – Sound Bites with TyCobbsTeeth: LIFE — Reading, Writing, Roaming and the Experiences that come with. (Tips, Tools, Thoughts, and Stories) Really? How can you not like a blog entitled TyCobbsTeeth? Deke Solomon at https://dekesolomon.wordpress.com An off duty Marine with four cats. You know I love cats, and I’m a military Mom. How can I not like this blog? Ann Fields at http://annfields.com/ – She writes novels, short stories, magazine articles, novellas, scripts and the occasional essay. Check her out! AbbiLu at http://cafebookbean.com where she talks about books and drinks coffee, two of my favorite pastimes! Zipclickzoom, author, whose blog I couldn’t locate but hope he will contact me again. Very nice avatar! Bridget Whelan at http://bridgetwhelan.com – She’s published a book on creative writing with exercises. We all need a stretch from time to time! Vivi Metalium at https://vivimetaliun.wordpress.com – you have to translate her blog, but if you read Portuguese (I believe) you’ll be in heaven and her photos are great! Kathy at http://kafrak.com. She’s a retired teacher with three sons, 42, 36, 34 and three grandchildren, two boys and a girl. She is Living & Loving Life through thoughts, trivia, special times, and special people. Lots of us are retired teachers. A fabulous jewelry design center at https://wearjewels.wordpress.com. Check this out – gorgeous jewelry. Aquiliana at https://aquileana.wordpress.com. She is a young Argentinian writes in Spanish but so many of us can follow her. Check these lovely people out! Happy New Year to you all and thanks for following my blog. 0 0

To all my family and friends, near and far, the happiest of New Years and 365 days of joy and delight in life! Noelle 0 0

This year we were facing a really, really quiet Christmas with our son in Germany and our daughter in LA, so some long-time friends (of 44 years) offered to come from Virginia to share the holiday with us. We had met them when we’d rented the bottom half of their duplex in Newport Beach, CA, the first year we lived there (see my recent Moving Stories post). We had so many adventures with them including a camping trip to Big Sur, when we were nearly washed away in a flash flood, but that’s a story for another time. This year they offered to accompany us to Mass on Christmas Eve. Our church is always crowded for the holiday Masses, but we got there very early with the assumption we’d get a seat. No luck! The church was crowded and people were standing five deep. The seats in the narthex were also full. What to do? Of course! Grab a seat in an overflow room the size of a gymnasium with a closed circuit TV screen at the front. Just the thing, and so uplifting! With the 80 degrees temps outside, hardly felt like Christmas … but I did enjoy meeting two young boys who were sitting next to me, and together we counted the ceiling tiles while waiting for the people in the long lines for Communion to return to their seats. On the way out, I ran into a plate glass floor to ceiling window, thinking it was a door. No damage to it or me, except bruised pride from the spectacle! Christmas day, two colleagues from my former life as an academic at the University of North Carolina joined the four of us for dinner. As we were about to serve, I asked my husband, “Have you seen Elijah Moon recently?” Elijah is our much loved and very spoiled 18 pound orange striped cat. It was getting late in the afternoon, which we call “Coyote Time” since this is when these local predators emerge to hunt any smaller, four-legged prey. Naturally, we thought if Elijah was outside, he could become a meal. So we dropped everything, made two tours of the house to see where he might be lounging. Not finding him, headed outside, calling and whistling. Elijah may be lazy but he always comes when we call him, but not this time. By now, our guests were sensing our distress and volunteered to join the hunt. Turns out it didn’t last long, since this is where he was, the whole time! Hope you had a peaceful, love-filled, and memorable holiday!   On a sad note, I want to extend my prayers and sympathy to sister blogger Jo Robinson, who lost her husband yesterday (https://africolonialstories.wordpress.com/2015/12/26/on-hold/).  I hope she will be back amongst us soon, and that support from our community will buoy her during in this hard time. 0 0

I wish I could wish each and every one of you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy New Year or just plain Season’s Greetings. During this past year, you have enriched my life, taught me history, shown me the world through amazing photographs, let me into your life and supported me through thick and thin. It’s been wonderful and I look forward to more. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! 0 0