I knew at least one of my readers was looking for me!
Have you been wondering where I’ve been?
Are you worried that I got lost somewhere?
Golly gee willickers! I kinda wondered what happened to me, myself.
What the heck have I been doing while I’ve been the antiblogger blogger?
Well, here are my
alibis excuses random falderals extremely important activities of late:
I’m an artist. I can’t sit around and look dizzy-blonde gorgeous all day. I have to do something productive besides
talking to walking Scrappy and watching TV. So I’ve been making some things to adorn my home. Take a look.
I finally made a bed-sized quilt for me! (And Phil, of course…)
I’m not in Pennsylvania, nor am I Dutch. I just love working with wool and doing things by hand. Yup. All this is hand applique.
My guest room needed something happy in it. I call this quilt “Funshine.”
I’m not the out-doorsy type, but Phil convinced me to try tent camping at a nice campsite in the Adirondacks. He usually goes wilderness camping and that sounded too extreme for me. My squatting-to-pee days are behind me for more reasons than I will enumerate for your benefit. We drove to the site in a freaking downpour. Couldn’t even see the hood of the car because of the sheets of rain coming down! But it cleared up and the site was sandy and pitched just enough so that we didn’t have to set up the tent in a small pond.
Our site. No close neighbors except for a persistent and cute chipmunk.
Path leading to the pond that was supposed to be there (as opposed to the one created by the rain).
View from our tiny “beach.” The pond was high due to the wet summer we’ve had.
The days were in the high 60s-low 70s and the nights go down to the mid-50s. I never slept on such a cold pillow in my life. And my bladder being what it is, the midnight trip to the latrine was frosty. But, oh, the stars! I forgot how many stars you can see when you’re in the pitch black of a mountain night. I’m ready to go again!
Totally Happy Campers!
Getting Ready to be Illegally Hitched
When I got divorced, I signed a document that barred me from getting married until I was 67. I know. What the fur ball, right? But, at the time, I was feeling deeply wounded. Being alone for the rest of my life sounded both realistic and kind of restful. I had no clue Phil would orbit back into my life and come in for a landing.
But he did. And his landing gear is stuck this time.
We’re engaged. I have a ring. We have our wedding date set for my 67th birthday.
Waiting for a formal, legal shindig, however, seemed kind of silly. We and all of our family and friends (who weren’t dead or disabled) would have to strap on our orthopedic shoes, make sure our Depends undergarments didn’t bunch up when we shuffled on the dance floor, and would have to do Geritol shots just to make it through the evening.
No. We want to party (and have pictures) while we’re still looking good on this side of 60 and have some shimmy left in our tushes.
On September 14 we’re getting illegally, or informally, hitched. What does this mean? We’re having a party with 30 of our family and friends, saying our own short vows. No one officially sanctioned to make us husband and wife will be within a 50 mile radius. Then it’s just a catered dinner and a DJ. Sure, I’ve planned the whole thing: the venue, my dress, decorations, flowers, menu, music… But it’s not a wedding. We’ll do that before a Justice of the Peace when I’m 67. I wonder if my dress will still fit me…
Spit-Polishing my New Novel
I know. I know.
I’ve been talking about this “new novel” for a long time.
Well, it takes a long time to write, edit, rewrite, edit, rewrite, edit, rewrite a novel.
The whole thing should come together in late September (we’re not going on a honeymoon).
I’m hoping that your anticipation is building.
I’m also hoping I become better at marketing, like, overnight so that this book gets the attention I know it deserves.
How’s this for a teaser?
Meri had a dream. She also had incredibly bad fortune and even worse timing.
Born of a tenacious need to prove her hostile mother wrong and to please her rarely present, but beloved, father, Meri decided to become a famous fashion designer in Paris.
Paris in the late 1920s was not friendly to immigrants, even talented immigrants from Finland. Forced to find work as a domestic, Meri persevered–vowing she would never return to Finland and never give up on her dream. Turning back, her father had told her, was a sign of weakness.
Join Meri as she forges ahead through turns of fate and misfortune as Paris braces for Hitler’s invasion, she cares for her half-Jewish child as a single parent throughout the occupation, and she finds her way to America in hopes of keeping her dream alive.
This story is based on real people and events. Names, specific places and some details have been changed to fictionalized the tale.
Given all of this, I’m kind of too pooped to blog every
day other day week.
I really need to get a few things off my plate before I can start blogging again like I used to. Maybe I should start with getting ME off my plate…
So, what have you been up to lately?