the day after a manic Monday

The weekend slid by without much drama, crisis, or fanfare. But hey, it wasn’t Monday yet. Little did I know Monday was preparing to kick my ass. And kick my ass it did. imagesThe week started simple enough—fresh bagels and blessed coffee. Who doesn’t like waking up to the prospect of fresh bagels, right? The night before I’d made a trip to Whole Foods to pick up a few things. The bagels were an afterthought. They’re great toasted smeared with cream cheese, right? That is, if they’re already sliced. Trust me on this. Unfortunately I bought the kind that wasn’t pre-cut. Simple fix. I take one out to toast, but first it needs cutting in half. This is where things go very wrong. I sliced open my finger instead of cutting the bagel. I’m bleeding like I’ve been stabbed so I grab a kitchen towel, wrap it around the wound to stop the flow of blood. All that red has ruined my bagel. After finally getting the bleeding under control, I’m out of the mood for the bagel. Totally. I throw back my caffeine fix like I’ve been a castaway on some tropical island for the past seven years. After getting enough coffee in me, I decide to run to the store for more Neosporin to smear on my owie. I’m also out of Band-Aids. Anyway, I get to my car, which is parked in the garage, and it won’t start. Nothing. It seems I have a dead battery because the night before—after making the trip to Whole Foods—I left the door open all night. The seat belt apparently got tangled up and kept the door from closing. After waiting for AAA to show up, I start out to the store and discover the place where I shop had a power outage during the night and they’re closed until further notice. At this point, I give up and surrender to Monday’s black hole. I drive back home, close the drapes, and crawl into bed. I figure I’ll try this again when it’s not Monday.

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you’re still in my head

Four years.

It’s been four years since I lost my good friend Rob McKay.

I still think about him.

Funny. Serious sometimes.

Music lover. Kate Bush fan. Writer.

I’m glad I had the chance to know Rob.

Rob made me laugh.

Rob McKayRobert Scott McKay

May 10, 1952 – March 30, 2014

 

more Pelican Pointe

a fresh new look

Thanks to Vanessa Mendozzi for the fresh, new Pelican Pointe look. More to come as we revamp the covers.

 

 

spring into Pelican Pointe

While we wait for me to finish the 11th Pelican Pointe book, Keeping Cape Summer, I decided to freshen up the covers on all the books. This is where Vanessa Mendozzi comes in.

So far, Vanessa has revamped Promise Cove and Hidden Moon Bay. I’m loving the beachy, bright, summery look.Can’t wait to see what she has in store for the rest!

Thank you, Vanessa!

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happy St. Patrick’s day

St. Patrick’s Day is an enchanted time – a day to begin transforming winter’s dreams into summer’s magic. ~ Adrienne Cook

hills of ireland

Had your share of green beer? cucumber-lemon-martini-1-1Then try a green martini. Spring is just a few days away and this drink can be served to celebrate the first day of Spring or for Easter.  Recipe can be found at Beyond Mere Substanceshamrock

 

thank-a-teacher Thursday

Growing up, I had some great teachers who inspired me to do more, to be more. Mrs. Lyles. Mrs. Pruitt. Mrs. Bourek. Mrs. Lawless. You get the picture. Which probably explains why I went through such a wide swing of career choices early on. It wasn’t until an 8th grade English teacher, Mrs. Brown, told me that I could really spin a story that I began to dream of a career in journalism. Did I make it? Not quite. At least not in the newspaper business. But Mrs. Brown’s initial suggestion that I had talent and her yearlong encouragement gave me hope. And from that hope, stories began to emerge. Spinning tales became more natural for me. Short stories gushed out of me I didn’t know I could write. Many a creative writing class later, here I am. So to all the teachers who planted the writing bug in me…thank you! After all this time, I still hear their echoes of optimism, their inspiration, their determination. They instilled in me a forever sense not to give up.

So take it from me, it’s never too late to thank a teacher.

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