Thursday's Opening Scene - The Gemini-Sagittarius Connection #MFRWauthor #Medical romance

The Gemini-Sagittarius Connection

Chapter 1

"Mom, how much longer?"

"Hours. It's been hours."

As the twin whines rasped her eardrums, Liz Jordan's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Forty-five minutes isn't hours. We'll be there soon."

"Don't know why we have to move to some hick town."

"Yeah, we'll be bored."

Their voices inched toward supersonic wails. She glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw twin scowls. Justin and Brandon had inherited their father's handsome features and his hazel eyes, but their hair was dark brown like hers. "Guys, why not give Eastlake a chance? You lived here for two years."

"We were babies," Brandon said. "How we gonna remember anything?"

"Yeah, babies know nothing," Justin added his comment.

They had celebrated their fifth birthdays in Eastlake. Now they were nine going on two or forty-two depending on their mood. Maybe they didn't understand why she'd made the decision to return here, but her reasons were valid. In the city, they'd been prey to pressure from a gang of boys headed for juvenile hall. This move was right for them. And her?

As the car rounded a bend, she saw a shopping mall that hadn't been here four years ago. What other changes would she find? She knew the hospital had expanded. The unit where she'd be in charge had been opened just three years ago.

When this fact popped into her thoughts, once more she wondered if making a lateral move had been the right choice. Being nurse manager of the ortho/neuro unit at Eastlake Community Hospital had to be less stressful than the same position at a city hospital. Here she wouldn't have to cope with nursing students from three different programs or with interns and residents. What about prima dona surgeons? She chuckled. That breed came with the territory.

At Eastlake, she'd be with the friends she'd made during the two years at Grantley College. She'd been the oldest of their clinical group and the one they'd come to for advice. Three of them lived and worked here. How great it would be to be with Jenessa, Laurel, and Megan again.

What about the unit's neurosurgeon, Dr. Jeff Carter? She remembered golden hair and summer blue eyes, broad shoulders and a lean body. She recalled memories of a dark night and the scent of wild roses. Don't go there. As the memories surged, her cheeks heated. That evening she'd made a foolish mistake, one she'd never make again.

"Mom, why do we have to live here?" Justin asked.

"Because I have a new job, and it's here."

"If it ain't that far from our home, why can't you drive every day?" Brandon asked.

"Yeah. Then we coulda stayed with our friends." Resentment filled Justin's voice.

And I would have gone gray from worry. "Enough. You'll live in Eastlake and like it."

"Or lump it," the boys said in unison.

"Is Pop still behind us?" Justin asked.

"If he gets lost, we'll lose all our stuff 'cept our collection." Brandon thumbed the box on the seat between Justin and him.

"Your grandfather's there," Liz said. "Justin, sit down and fasten your seatbelt." Would he ever learn to think before jumping into action?

"Just had to check."

"He's always doing dumb things."

"Am not."

She heard a grunt. "Guys, enough. Do I have to pull over?" She had to stop them before they came to real blows, something that had never happened. Though they were identical in looks, their personalities were opposite. Like his dead father, Justin plunged into action without thinking, while Brandon plodded and planned.

The noise from the back seat ceased. Liz spotted the sign announcing their arrival in Eastlake and released a sigh of relief. "We're almost there."

She saw her sons turn in their seats to look out the windows. The sight of houses with lawns instead of blocks of tall apartment buildings made her smile.

"Is our house like them?" Brandon asked.

"Maybe a little bigger." She turned the car into Main Street. Many of the shops she remembered were still there. "There's the Hot Doggery. We'll go there for dinner some evening. Best chilli dogs I've ever had."

"Tonight?" the boys asked.

"No. Some of my friends are coming by after work to help us get settled."

"That's not fair," Justin said. "We had to leave our friends."

"Do they have kids?" Brandon asked.

"Laurel and Alex have a son. I think he's six."

"A baby," Justin said. "Who wants to play with a baby? Not me."

"Your choice," Liz said. "You don't have to play, but you will be nice to him."

"All right."

"Where's the hospital?" Brandon asked.

"When we come to the next corner, look up the hill. The brick building at the top is the hospital."

"Wow," Justin said. "Think of coming down that hill on a bike."

"Think, but don't do," Liz said.

"You're no fun."

"Not supposed to be. I'm your mother."

Three blocks beyond the street to the hospital, Liz made a left turn and pulled into the driveway of the house her friend had bought just weeks before her wedding. Lucky for me, Liz thought. Laurel had agreed to rent with the option to buy.

Since her husband's death, Liz and her boys had been apartment dwellers. Sometimes, she resented the loss of the house she and Derek had bought, but the sale had allowed her to attend Grantley for a BS in Nursing. Once again her old resentment flared. Volunteer firemen who were determined to be heroes seldom left their families large legacies.

As soon as the car stopped, the boys jumped out. When the rental truck pulled behind her car, Justin nearly plowed into the fender. She stifled a scream. He turned and grinned. She closed her eyes. He was all right. Thank heavens they weren't marking their arrival with a trip to the Emergency Room. She left the car and grabbed him.

"Slow down."

Her father-in-law leaned against the side of the truck. He wiped his ruddy face with a bandanna. "I thought . . . . Don't ever scare me like that again."

Justin toed the grass. "Sorry, Pop."

The elderly man ruffled the boy's dark hair. "So like your father."

"What about me?" Brandon asked.

"You, too."

The hot humid air made Liz feel sticky. She wiped her hands on her navy shorts, and then walked toward the house. The red bricks had faded to a rose color. She climbed the steps to the wide front porch. Bamboo shades on the side openings shielded the white wicker furniture from the afternoon sun. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. The highly polished oak of the foyer floor gleamed. Cool air kissed her skin.

Justin pushed past her. "Where's my room?"

"Look at the big TV," Brandon cried. "Is it ours?"

Liz nodded. "If I decide to buy the furniture from Laurel."

"Let's keep the TV." Brandon put the box he'd lugged from the car on the stairs to the second floor. "Where does this go?"

Liz laughed. "As if you didn't know." The box contained the boys' baseball card collection and other treasures. "Come with me, and I'll show you the room you and Justin will share."

"Do we have to?"

"There are three bedrooms, mine, your grandfather's, and yours, plural. Be thankful. I have my own bathroom. No more make-up and sissy smelly stuff."

"Great news."

When they reached the second floor, she opened the door of the room where the twins would sleep. Brandon dropped the box on the lower bunk. He ran his hand over the smooth wood of one of the two chests of drawers. "Neat. This why we didn't bring our old stuff?"

She nodded. Their beds had been the ones they'd slept in since they'd outgrown their cribs, and they'd shared a second-hand dresser she'd refinished. "Thought you might like these."

He looked up. "They gonna cost a lot?"

She hugged him. "Don't worry about the money. You know I sold most of our old furniture."

Justin charged into the room. "I get the top."

"Just don't wet the bed again," Brandon said.

Justin scowled. "Didn't."

Liz put a hand on his shoulder. "He had an accident months ago. Stop picking on each other."

"Okay," Brandon said.

Justin grabbed his brother's hand. "Come outside and meet our neighbor. He's cool. Doesn't believe I have a twin."

"Can we go?" Brandon asked.

Liz nodded. "You're free until my friends arrive. Then it's to work."

"You can come and meet his mom," Justin said. "She's a nurse, too."

As Liz followed the boys downstairs, she wondered if the woman worked at the hospital or in one of the local doctors' offices. If the neighbor worked at Eastlake, she might know things Liz's friends would neglect to tell her, especially about hospital politics. Liz glanced into the living room. Pop had stretched out in the charcoal gray recliner. "You okay?" she asked.

"Just tired. Heat's a bit much, but here with the air conditioning it's fine. Need me to do anything?"

"Later. The boys are taking me to meet a neighbor.

Then I'll bring in the groceries and the suitcases."

"I can do that."

"I know, but take it easy. The work crew should be here by four thirty. Your job will be to direct traffic." She walked to the door. Was her father-in-law ill? These days, he seemed to tire easily. As 

she stepped onto the porch, the twins waved. They were across the street where a blonde woman and a boy stood beside a sporty sedan.

"Mom, hurry up," Justin yelled. "They're going away."

Liz crossed the street. "This is our mom," Brandon said.

The woman smiled. "I understand you're a nurse."

Liz nodded. "Liz Jordan. Pleased to meet you." She saw something she couldn't define in the blonde's light brown eyes.

"I'm Delores. I heard Mrs. Carter rented the house. You know, she bought it just a couple of weeks ago. Why she wanted a house and even moved in when she was shacked up in Alex Carter's house doesn't compute." She laughed. "Guess she knew what she was doing since she snagged him."

Liz drew in a deep breath. Sour grapes flavored her neighbor's voice. "I'm glad she decided to rent. Saved me from a frantic search for a house and a commute from the city until I found one."

"There is that." Delores bent to pick up a small suitcase. Her tight red shorts slid up to reveal a bit of her buttocks.

Liz looked away. "Especially since I needed three bedrooms."

"Guess your boys have their own rooms."

"They have to share. "My father-in-law lives with us."

"Thought he was your husband." The eyes that had been friendly hardened. "Guess your husband works in the city and decided to commute."

"No husband. He's . . . ."

"Another deadbeat like my ex. Guess we'll have a heart to heart one of these days and discuss straying men." She opened the car door. "Chet, let's go. Was nice meeting you."

Liz returned to the house. Her neighbor's assumptions bothered her. She wasn't sure she liked Delores, and she hadn't learned if the other woman worked at the hospital. Too late now.

"Hey, Mom," Brandon called. "Chet says he'll show us around town."

"He knows all the neat places." Justin raced up the steps.

"His friends are wheels." Brandon tugged on Liz's hand.

She frowned. The boy seemed older than the twins.

"How old is he?"

"Twelve. He's gonna be thirteen in November."

Liz wasn't sure she wanted the boys to hang around with someone three and a half years older. Their ideas of neat and cool differed from hers. There'd been enough problems in the city with their choice of friends. Would this be another mistake? "I plan to sign you up for some programs at the Y where you can meet boys your own age."

Justin jumped down the steps from the porch. "Dorks."

"Don't make judgments before you meet them."

"But Chet said . . . ."

She sucked in a breath. If she forbade this friendship without a good reason, Justin would rebel and Brandon would argue. "I'll give you a week or two to settle. As long as you don't give Pop a hard time, I'll let you hang out here."

"We won't," they said.

"Let's unload the trunk. I want to make lemonade and iced tea for this evening."

* * *

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Writing ABC - Character's Reactions #MFRWauthor #writing

When some event occurs in a character's life, they need to react. How they react depends on the characteristics the writer has sent for them. There have been times when I've been reading a novel or short story when I want to stop reading because the character is reacting in a way that seems not true. How do you go about making the reactions fit the character? This is something you need to do before they take action.

There are a number of ways to show how a character reacts to a change in their environment. The first is through inner thoughts. Does the change make them angry, sad, happy or a dozen other emotions. This can be shown through their inner thoughts, usually short phrases, not complete sentences. Sometimes as they puzzle through they need sentences to clarify how they will react and move forward.

A second way is through conversation with another character. What they say can show the reader what they are feeling. If what they say is different from what is going on in their head this doesn't change the way they will react. This is one way to show they are conflicted. Conflicted characters must be true to their nature.

A third way is through their body reaction. Now they may not notice what they are revealing through gestures and expressions of the face. Other characters can notice and make conclusions.

So when a character reacts to a situation, they must remain true to the character. If they react in a way that doesn't belong to their nature, the reader will see this. There are times when I write a character's reactions in a rough draft and when I go back realize they aren't acting according to their nature.

Tuesday's Inspiration - Practice #MFRWauthor #amwriting

So you're going to be a best-selling author - Maybe. How do you approach this goal? Some people think there's a magic wand to wave and they'll hit that coveted list. Sure some people sell the first story they ever wrote but they don't mention the many times they had to re-write or revise the story. The real way to gain a readership is to write and write every day. Practice doesn't make perfect but practice is like reaching for that goal just out of sight.

Talent is a must for a writer but no matter how great a talent is, unless the writer shows they have learned the techniques needed to coax the reader into his or her world, the writing goes flat. We've all read books that make us want to scream. The story is great but the writing leaves us cold and more time is spent correcting the writer's mistakes than in reading the story.

Taking courses in writing fiction help but the biggest way to gain what's needed is to write every day at the same time. Sure it doesn't have to be daily but there has to be a routine, a time when your body knows this is the time to write that story. When rejections come, instead of blaming the editor or agent of not knowing a good story when they see it, the time has come to rewrite that story to see where you've gone wrong. If you're really lucky, instead of the cold "This isn't for us." Some editor will jot a note. "Your characters have no real motivation." Or some other note that gives you a clue. So you practice putting words on paper and discovering the characters' motivations.

I had a fairly early success in my writing and sold a number of short stories. Then the short story dried up. I had to learn how to write novels and that took practice. Then I stepped away from writing for about ten years while I helped put children through college. The time came when I could return to writing. Did all I'd learned before return immediately. Not a chance. I had to practice, practice, practice and re-learn all that had grown rusty from dis-use. Three years of practice gave me a sale.

The moral of this story is try to find time every day to write, even if it's only fifteen minutes and if you only produce a hundred words. In the end the practice will find you holding a book in your hand.

Meandering On Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #Poetry

Meander 1 - Poem - Soap Bubbles

Soap Bubbles

Those days were childhood sunshine times and we
Found no misting phantoms just out voices.
Gently blowing bubbles of the mind. Freely
Lilting love fly, no thought of making choices.
Soap bubblesfloating innocently surround
Our heds. Children in our bouyancy. Wave
The wand and watch the beads dancing around,
Turning irridescent rainbows. We gave
Each other laughter bubbling from our souls.
In irised fantasies painted on the breeze.
Sometimes two bubbles met, joined to make a whole.
We stretched and reached and tried to seize
Vanished bubbles. Tear damp skin drying slowly
In the sun. Childhood's hidden deep in memory.

Meander 2 - Reading. I've been reading some interesting books. I often judge contests and sometimes I find a book that really turns me to wanting more. Recently I looked through the books I have on my Kindle and found one I had enjoyed. Actually I'd bought two of the series. I went back and bought the two final ones and read all of them. Odd but I find reading a series entirely shows me many things I might have missed. I really think reading helps with writing.

Meander 3 Writing. Finally finished typing thelast of the At First Sight series and did the CAF for the book. Seducing the Baker. When my publisher returns from a conference I'll send it to her and it will be up for pre-sale. I'm working on my friend's book and have time now to type the last draft but I'll do no mroe writing on the book until I have it typed. Meanwhile I'll be rough drafting the Cancer-Capricorn Connection. Hopefully the rough draft will be finished at the same time as the typing of the chapters and I'll move ahead.

Sunday's Book - The Gemini-Sagittarus Connection #MFRWauthor #medical romance #twins

Gemini Liz seems to be following her sign. She's the mother of twin boys, she'd returned to Eastlake for the second time and she's taking her second position as a nurse manager. She feels moving from the city will be good for her sons who sometimes choose the wrong friends. What Liz doesn't want is a second husband. The death of her fireman husband made him a hero but devastated her life. She had to return to work and become a single mother. Fortunately her father-in-law has stepped in to care for the boys but he wants to retire to Florida. Though she's attracted to Jeff she wants to deny the attraction.

Jeff is a Sagittarian who often suffers from the foot in mouth disease. His wife died years ago but she was the perfect wife and he has no desire to fall in love or marry again. As a neurosurgeon he sees Liz a lot since she is the nurse manager of the ortho/neuro unit at the hospital. He also wants to deny the attraction and finds it harder and harder. 

Saturday - A Few Hints on Finding the Why of Character's Actions #MFRWauthor #amwriting

This is from Becoming Your Own Critique Partner by Jane Toombs and Janet Lane Walters

Motivations are what make the stories go. Without characters who have reasons for their actions there would be no story. A character whose motivations don't suit the plot will make the story go flat. If the writer chooses a character bent on revenge and puts that character in a romantic comedy the reader will scratch their head. So...

Motivations must be equal to the goal. They can be either good or bad.

1 Motivations explain the character's actions
2. Motivations fit the plot.

Motivations are many things but the main ones are.
3. Internal
4. Can be internalized
5. Often contain secrets the character fears will be revealed.
6. Are often layered.
7. Goad the character into action.

Motivations lead to goals. With out a reason to desire something a character has no reason to reach for anything. There are many goals but they can usually be fitted into one of the following categories.
8. Survival
9. Love
10. Emotional or spiritual comfort
11. Power
12. Social acceptance

After looking at your character's reasons and selecting the goal how are these shown?
13. Reaction
14. Actions
15. Dialogue
16. Inner thoughts

Friday - Kale or not #MFRWauthor #Food

I've been advised to eat more green and leafy vegetables for a short period of time. For the vitamin K. I should not be here this Friday and Saturday but that's another story that will remain untold.

Back to kale. I know it's sort of an in thing and foodies seem to like it. I bought a huge box filled with dark green leaves. Leaves having huge stems that needed a sharp knife to cut through. My first attempt to use them was in my daily salad. I can't explain the taste but the grass in my front yard tastes better. So do the dandilion greens. I cultivate dandilions since I think they're cute. For three days I ate that kale in the salad and knew this was hopeless. I did not like the taste. Then I cooked some. I thought I would have a big mess. With a bit of added salt and butter maybe they would taste good. Three large handfuls of the leaves cooked down to a half a cup. So I salted and buttered them. They still tasted nasty.

When winter comes I'll try some in soup and maybe they'll absorb the flavors and not taste nasty.

Kale or not. My vote is for not.

Thursday's Opening Scene - The Taurus - Scorpio Connection #MFRWauthor #medical romance

The Taurus - Scorpio Connection

Chapter 1

The ceiling fan stirred the hot, humid air. Alien aromas of sweat, perfume and spices assaulted her. Laurel Richmond leaned against the examining table and wiped her forehead with a cotton bandanna. A babble of voices floated through the partially open door of the triage room. She looked for Chandra and remembered the tiny Indian nurse had left for the day.

Laurel’s eyes blurred. A sneeze exploded. Her throat ached and a dull pain settled above her eyes. She looked down at her wrinkled khaki slacks, glad she wasn’t wearing white the way she would have at a hospital in the States.

The chatter from the waiting room became the voices of Babel, dislocating her in time and space. For an instant she wondered where she lived this week and what year headed the calendar. A dozen scenes from as many countries flashed in her thoughts. For the past four years she’d worked for International Health Rescue Mission as part of a team following disasters and dispensing medical care and training native health workers.

She opened her eyes. The moment of disorientation vanished. India. The team had settled in the costal plains where a cyclone had ripped through villages and towns leaving death and disease behind. She gripped the edge of the examining table and willed herself not to collapse.

After pulling her spinning emotions under control, she walked to the door of the triage room and motioned to the next group of patients. A dark-skinned woman with pleading brown eyes spoke in a high-pitched voice joining syllables with staccato beats. Three wide-eyed children clung to her sari. As if offering a gift the woman held out a baby. Laurel took the child.

The infant’s swollen belly and thin limbs spoke of malnutrition. Fevered flesh burned Laurel’s hands. The weak mewling cries brought tears to her eyes. She bathed the baby in tepid water and then plunged a needle into the thin muscles of his buttocks. With shaking hands she handed the mother a bottle of sugar water and several of diluted formula. Next, Laurel examined the little girls.

The sing-song spate of chatter stopped. Laurel looked around. Neil Bourne stood in the doorway. Though the day had almost ended, his khakis looked neat. His dark hair, lightly sprinkled with gray and the lines of experience in the corners of his eyes, revealed the ten years’ difference in their ages.

He smiled. In the past, his smiles had brought comfort and allowed her to speak of her dreams like a child talking to a trusted uncle. Today, his smile made her edgy.

“Dear girl, it’s nearly eight. Time to close shop for the day. You work too hard and too long.”

“No more than you.” She studied his face. Something in his expression told her he had news. Was the team moving to the scene of some new disaster? She wanted to protest another dislocation.

“Let me help you finish.”

Unwilling to let her tiredness show, she nodded, stepped to the door and gestured to the next patient.

For an hour, she and Neil assessed the rest of the patients in the waiting room. When the last patient had been seen, she closed the door and slumped on a chair.

“Time to leave.”

Neil’s deep voice lured her to her feet. She washed her hands and splashed water on her face. As they crossed the road to the house where members of the team lived, only his hand at her elbow kept her from staggering.

“Dinner?” he asked.

“Let me change.”

He shook his head. “If I let you go, you’ll collapse on the bed and miss another meal.”

She followed him into the house. “It’s too hot.”

“It’s a far cry from London in May,” he said. “Here, there’s the hot wet season and the hot dry season.”

“It’s not like home either.” Where was home? A chill made her tremble. Her vision blurred and she sank on a dining room chair. Flies droned. The ceiling fan stirred the air.

A servant entered and bowed. Soon dishes of curried chicken, rice, vegetables and fruit arrived along with a pot of steaming tea. The mingled aromas made her swallow. Nausea threatened.

She poured a cup of tea. “What I would give for a glass of ice.”

“You’re a barbarian.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Homesick?

She shook her head. “Just weary and tired of living as a gypsy.” Nannies. City apartments. Country homes. Boarding schools. Summer camps. Though she’d never known another way of life she yearned for being settled.

“In two weeks we’re for London and a week there while we re-equip.” He squeezed her fingers. “You feel warm.”

“The heat. I wonder if I’ll ever feel cool again.” She sipped the tea and toyed with the food on her plate.

Neil ate as if his next meal would arrive at some unspecified future time. He finished and walked around the table. “Let’s take tomorrow as an escape day.”

“Can we?” As his fingers lightly stroked the tight muscles of her shoulders and strayed to brush her neck, she tensed. “The patients.”

“Will be here long after we’re gone.” His fingers caressed her throat. “I know a place in the mountains with a poll fed by streams and breezes sweetened by the scent of flowers. I’d like to take you there.”

“That’s not a day’s outing.”

“I know but it would be a splendid place for a honeymoon.” His stroking fingers stilled. “Marry me.”

Shock waves rode her nerves. What could she say that wouldn’t hurt him? From deep inside came the knowledge she no longer wanted this roving life and that was all Neil could offer. She wanted the home she’d never known and for him to remain a friend, a mentor, not a lover and keeper of her heart.

He pulled her to her feet and turned her to face him. “We’re a smashing team.” His deep voice spun a web of enticement. “Consider the miracles we’ve performed and how many more are possible if we marry.” His mouth covered hers.

He’s not the one. The inner warning stiffened her body and aborted her response to his kiss. “I can’t.”

She couldn’t decipher the look in his pale blue eyes. She wanted to explain but any words she said would keep the situation rolling like a mudslide down a canyon wall. Months ago she’d told him about the secret love she’d held in her heart. He had dismissed the memories as a fantasy. For a short time she had believed him but she knew he was wrong.

“I’m sorry.”

He cupped her chin. “You’re alone. So am I. The world is filled with people crying for what we can give them.”

The look in his eyes belonged to a zealot. She would never come first with him. The sick would always claim his energy. “I…”

His fingers brushed her lips. “Don’t answer in haste. Think of how much you can give to so many in the future. Then give me an answer.”

She backed away. Beneath the panic that gathered in her thoughts she wondered why he had waited until tonight to ask her to marry him. Had her birthday yesterday and her mention of the money that would be hers next year play a part? Why hadn’t he asked her last year, last month, or sometime during the two years she’d been part of his team. Never once in that time had she sensed his caring went beyond friendship.

She walked to the bedroom she shared with another nurse. Without undressing she lay on the hard mattress and fell instantly into sleep.

Wednesday's Writer's Tip - Writing ABC - Character's Reasons #MFRWauthor #Writing

Last week we looked at the character's wants. Now we come to why they want them or their reasons for wanting to find their wants or goals. There are many reasons a writer can choose.

Reasons are their motivations for desiring a particular goal. Do they want justice, power, satisfaction or some reason that must be shown by their want. Susie wants to find love. Is this love from a particular person? Could be a man or a parent or a friend. There are many reasons to want. The writer must sort through a character's eyes to find what they want and why.

Sometimes the why is hard to find but usually listening to the character you have built will give you these reasons. Always remember during the course of a story a character can start out with a particular goal that can be part of a greater goal. The reason why they want a particular need can be buried under other things and the character must find the reality of what they want. This may look like the goal has changed but it hasn't. The real want might be only part or more than what the character started out to want. If this occurs, the writer has to look at the reasons.

Meandering on Monday with Janet Lane Walters #MFRWauthor #poetry

Meander 1 Poem - Easter

Easter

Morning comes on padded feet.
Grief and sorrow, tears are shed.
The stone is gone!
A vacant shed greets the weeping eyes.
Now where/ Now where?
The voices shout.
A vacant tomb - a missing rock.
The soul seeks recognition
Among those it once knew well.
They do not know.
They cannot see.
It does not seem the same.
Im. Ia.
Why don't you know?
I am the tortured soul.
The light of morning floods the sky.
Soul triumphant resurrected.
Soul in ecstacy.

Meander 2 - Florida - Went to granddaughter's high school graduation. The moment I stepped from the air-conditioned terminal I wanted to return home. Temperature 93 and humid. My daughter thought the weather was not bad. So did my husband. I felt as if my blood boiled. At the graduation everyone else in the auditorium felt cold. I didn't. Perspired a bit. We returned home a few days later to nice coolish weather. Then today the temperature hit the nineties. Not in Florida. They had around 85 degrees. Seems I can't win.

Meander 3 - Writing - Going slow, very slow. Should have Seducing the Baker typed and ready to send off this week. Started my next project's rough draft today. Actually this is the third start for the beginning of the story. Once Baker is off I'll hit Kat's story and finish typing so I can move on to almost the alst draft. Be glad for that to finish.