Of Memories and Smiles by Konnie Enos

I like reading the Miss Manners column. (I might learn something about good behavior.) This past weekend I was reading some of her recent columns and came across a letter from the mother of the bride. She had been divorced from the bride’s father for over two decades and she had little contact with him during the intervening years, plus she did not know his family. All would be in attendance at the wedding.

Now the letter was about her concerns for making this event less uncomfortable for this group of veritable strangers, but while I read it I remembered the story of another wedding reception where the parents of the groom had been divorced for over 20 years. The groom was their youngest. It should also be noted that while their children were in their late teens the father bodily threw the mother out of his house, with good cause. (I secretly applauded his actions.)

Within a few years, he then moved his family to a different state without ever seeing or even speaking to his ex since he threw her out. (Be assured, he had seen his children, just not their mother.)

During the intervening years, their three older children had managed to get married without both parents being there to witness it. The oldest eloped. The next two pretty much eloped as they planned their big days in less than two weeks. Due to proximity, the second child had only the mother there, and the third had only the father. By the time this wedding takes place, it’s been well over a decade since their last face-to-face encounter.

Now the son and his bride took nearly a full year to plan their big event including taking into account the weather since the father would have to drive through the mountains to get there. They planned a fall wedding, rather than in the middle of winter. Both parents can and would be there, if not all the siblings.

I heard no stories about how the actual wedding went down but one has to assume that the parents of the groom had no face-to-face confrontations based solely on what happened next.

Now it must be understood that both of them are now pushing 60. She’s grown a bit rounder and has more gray hair. He has a full head of receding gray hair and now needs a cane. He’s also rounder. One can safely say he’d aged more in the last few years than she had, though he was still recognizable.

Now cue the reception.

Since the father and mother weren’t known to get along, and both parents were there with their current spouse, not to mention the father’s health issues, they had forgone a reception line.

Well, the mother of the groom felt it was important that she should greet all the guests and introduce herself to any she didn’t know. She, therefore, was wandering around the room talking to everyone.

The father, however, health being the issue, was sitting at one of the tables only talking to or greeting those who came up to him. Just an older gentleman sitting with his hands resting on a nicely carved cane, sitting, for the moment, alone at a table.

Spotting him, the mother walked over holding out her hand, and happily asked him how he knew the happy couple. Then she added. “I’m the groom’s mother.”

Now I’m not exactly sure of his actions at this point, but I can imagine he didn’t take her hand and he may well have rolled his eyes or audibly sighed in an exasperated manner. All I do know is what he responded. “I know Grace.” (Yes, her name is Grace.) “I’m the groom’s father.”

Now I did not have the good fortune to be able to attend this blessed event due to distance and the impending arrival of my firstborn. But when I heard about it well after the fact I found it hilarious that she hadn’t recognized him and went so far as to introduce herself to the man she had four children with.

This wedding took place thirty years ago this fall. Both parents have since passed on. The bride and groom are now grandparents and due to multiple strokes, he is in the last years of dementia. So the only ones who were at the wedding and can remember it are the bride and the groom’s then stepmother.

All I have is the memory of Dad telling me about his encounter with Momma at Bryon’s wedding.

What memories bring a smile to your face? I’d love to hear them. Let’s give everyone something to smile about.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day. 

Plans, Ideas, and Motivation by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

If you’ve been by my place recently and heard some squawks and squeaks, that’s just me trying to play the clarinet. Trying being the operative word here. Maybe I’ll never be able to reach the higher notes, I have no idea, but it never hurts to try.

I’m also trying to lose weight. (Yeah, again.)

I don’t seem to be very good at that either.

And I’m taking an online course. So far so good on that one, but I’m not sure I’ll finish in the allotted time, so I have to work harder on that. And I need it because I need the training to get a better job, preferably something I can do from home.

And at some point, I really should finish editing, updating, fixing book one of my sci-fi series so that I can finish writing book two then go on to books three and four, but I also need to contact the publishers I submitted to back in January to see if they have made a decision on my story yet. Meaning I have to write a nice polite, “Hey, have you read it yet? When will I hear from you?” letter.

Personally, I’m of a mind to tell them they have until June 2^nd (six months after I submitted) to let me know one way or the other, or I will submit elsewhere on June 2^nd.

This also means I need to figure out where elsewhere should be. Any suggestions? I could use a few.

Here is the blurb for the one I’m trying to sell:

Members are different, which is causing Mathias Hawklace a major heartache. It’s one thing to be attracted to an Outsider, it altogether another to “Connect” with one. It had been bad enough facing losing his family because he hadn’t found his one true love, but to find her, and still face losing his family? Intolerable.

And how is it possible for an Outsider to “Connect” in the first place? Are we more alike than Members thought?

This isn’t really a sci-fi, though the main characters are aliens, it’s a YA contemporary romance.

And the only other thing I can think to say about it is, if werewolves can have their one and only, then why can’t aliens? This is what it’s about, really.

Anyway, I’d love for a publisher to pick it up.

I’d also like to be a hundred pounds lighter, a virtuoso on the clarinet, and an artist with both words and yarn.

Did I mention making Christmas gifts?

I’ve started a couple, I’m so slow I’ve been working on one of them off and on for almost two years now. And I have the supplies for several gift projects for just about as long that I haven’t even started.

And a certain niece of mine is expecting again. Another gift to add to my list.

Don’t be surprised if I end up buying everything again.

It's not like I can make stuff for some family members.

Men are so hard to make things for.

Heck, men are hard to shop for!

I had no problem shopping for Tom! He was easy. In fact, I still periodically spot things that Tom would have loved. I did it again just a few days ago. But shopping for my bother-in-law, nephews, and nephew-in-law – HELP!

And on top of that, one of our nieces is getting married this year.

Great, a wedding and Christmas in the same month!

 I guess I’m lucky I don’t have to actually go to the wedding, with the gas prices the way they are, I can’t afford the drive, even if it is only two hours one way.

And no matter how hard I try to keep my Christmas shopping list short, someone is always adding a name or two it. Though really the tiny additions are fine. Babies are so easy to shop or make gifts for. Their daddies are a different story.

I can think a few men who are probably tired of getting ties from me every Christmas.

Give me another suggestion and I’ll go with it!

Help me figure out how to divide my not-at-work hours between my class, my writing, and my crafts, and I’d be eternally grateful, but I’m afraid the solution is to never turn my TV on again.

And it's not like I’m watching a lot, just Star Trek the Original, TNG, DS9, and Voyager, and only six nights a week. And if I ever got my act together, I could do crafts while I watched them. I couldn’t write, but I could do crafts. And I honestly know I should.

Well, that and eat dinner.

 Basically, we’re back to my mental issues of not being able to prioritize properly.

Anyway, happy writing everyone! Maybe next time I’ll have some good news.

Of Puppy Enthusiasm and Crabby Dogs by Konnie Enos

I was comfortably sound asleep having pleasant dreams. I can’t now tell you what those dreams were because I was suddenly jarred awake by wet coldness on the tip of my nose.

Now if you have any interaction with four-legged friends you can understand what can cause this. Since our home is full of four-legged family members in possession of cold wet noses, I immediately flailed out at my assumed offender, my ornery Mable. After all her preferred sleeping place is between Jerry and me.

My hands did not find Mable. I now assumed I was being attacked by Reeses, Jerry’s fluff ball because he slept in our room. I reached higher as I pried my eyes open.

I finally managed to focus just enough of a peek to see just who was putting his nose on me. I hadn’t reached high enough either time. With the identity of my attacker confirmed I realized Jerry wasn’t in bed. How could he be with this large lummox sitting on Jerry’s spot in the bed?

 Since Jerry was awake, and this beast was loose in my bedroom, I could only conclude Jerry had returned from picking Tony up from work.

Therefore I yelled at Tony for help, all while grappling with the behemoth attempting to keep him from biting me or again sticking his nose in my face. To ensure I got some assistance I further added that I did not appreciate being roused from a sound sleep by a cold, wet nose.

Tony came into the room laughing and hauled the interloper off my bed, out of my room, and into the back yard where presumably he was supposed to be rather than curiously poking at my face.

Now I must explain that this behemoth, while now the second largest of our dogs, the Akita is full-grown, he is still a puppy, and a bundle of curiosity and energy combined with a strong Husky tendency for drama.

He once somehow got one paw caught in something which resulted in him yelping and squealing so loudly it woke Jerry from a sound sleep and set most of the household, including Jerry, scrambling through the house to see what the catastrophe was. The poor dear was uninjured (the resident vet nurse completely checked him out). He did not like having his paw caught. That and he is, like all Husky’s tend to be, a true drama queen.

That is not the only time he’s whined, fussed, yelped, or squealed all because he was not pleased with his present condition and wanted attention.

For my part, I’m grateful he doesn’t generally find his way into my room with his theatrics. Most of the daylight encounters involve him sniffing around and Mable loudly telling him this is her room and she’d very much rather he not be in it. Mable is far too territorial to realize he is twice her size and still growing.

To ensure peace and no injuries, deadly or otherwise, we make efforts to keep them apart while still allowing them to see each other and hopefully Mable will get used to his presence before a battle occurs.

The behemoth has already lost all curiosity about the only female four-legged inhabitant in our house so now we have to again teach Mable that every family member is allowed in my bedroom.

Though I still have the issue of startling early morning attacks.

Only a couple of weeks after the first one, I was jolted awake by pain in one toe. That and my bed being jostled. I looked up just in time to see Tony again hauling his behemoth out of my bed and into the back yard instead of running over my bed and stepping on my toe.

I’m now assuming a third attack of the over-exuberant puppy will occur eventually. I mean he is less than a year old. He is, however, now old enough to feel the need to procreate while still being young enough to not realize all the nuances of actually doing so. In other words, he is starting to try to follow that instinct without realizing he needs a female canine to get anywhere.

Do I need to restate that we only have ONE female four-legged family member? Perhaps I should point out she is not only a senior dog but less than half his size. Though the main issue is she does NOT like him. That and Mable is as ornery as he is a drama queen.

Don’t you just love the different personalities families bring into your life?

Smile. Make the day a brighter day. 

Movies VS Books by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I feel like I just waded through a horrific war. Oh wait, I just read from “The Sorcerer’s Stone” clear through to “The Deathly Hallows”!

That is what reading a good book is supposed to do.

It certainly isn’t like when Harry Potter “entered” Tom Riddle’s diary and learned of the night Riddle accused Hagrid of killing Myrtle, or rather Hagrid’s pet Arogog, though that manner was a fascinating idea, it doesn’t quite work that way.

Sometimes I wish I could do that. Since I’m such a slow reader, I wouldn’t mind being able to “watch” what happened instead. The only problem is that movies do not follow the book very closely, and the later HP movies are quite frankly horrendous in how far from the facts they deviate!

I have never actually finished watching the movies. It was bad enough when they introduced those stupid talking shrunken heads in “Prisoner of Azkaban,” and taking Dobby’s big part out “Goblet of Fire” and giving it to Neville? (Outrageous!) But the beginning of . . . you know what, I can’t remember which one it was but it started with that made up scene where Harry was chatting up that waitress in that café and Dumbledore showed up? Where did that idea come from?

All of the books at or near the beginning had Harry either arriving at or leaving number 4 Privet Drive. All the movies should have started there! And again, what’s with the stupid shrunken heads?

Yes, I do know that the books are way too detailed, especially the later ones, not every detail can fit in the movies. I can understand taking Norbert out, I can understand the all-out effort to shorten the script, what I can’t understand is adding in stuff that’s not in the book!

Okay, so maybe it was easier to let Neville have the role the fake Mad-Eye intended him to have in Harry getting through the second task just so Dobby doesn’t have to be there, but then you add in that frantic scene where Neville thinks his idea didn’t work and Harry drowned! Why?

I don’t know, maybe it could have worked that way because the fake Mad-Eye did give Neville that book with that intention in mind, but well, think about it. Harry knew Neville, they slept in the same dorm room, but that was all. The most you could say was that they were acquainted with each other.

And frankly, who confides in people they barely know? Certainly not Harry, who only asked his closest friends.

Rowling may have had the fake Mad-Eye giving Neville that book (And quite frankly I was sure the first time I read about it that there was something important about that book, after all, why would a DADA teacher give a student a herbology book?) but Harry would never have asked Neville for help!

It was far more likely for Harry to get help from Dobby then to ask Neville for it. Of course, he didn’t ask Dobby either. Dobby offered his help! After being freed by Harry, Dobby was constantly asking what he could do for him, while on the other hand, Neville would never have asked if he could help, well anyone, at that point in the saga Neville thought he was all but worthless.

Who with that low of self-esteem would have offered their help to anyone? Especially someone at the top of their class, when they are closer to the bottom?

All authors have to realistic. Rowling was being realistic. End of discussion.

Though, after seeing the very first movie (having read the first several times by the date) I know for sure if I was an English teacher and my class was reading that book, I would make sure you can only answer the test questions correctly if you read the book. Even better I'd word it just so that if you only watched the movie, you’d get the answer wrong!

And for any of you kids out there who still think they can just watch the movie, there are lots of details that are totally incorrect in the movies. I promise, and I’ve only compared a few movies to the books they are based on, not just HP. I wouldn’t count on that if I were you.

Actually, I’ve yet to watch a movie based on a book that was anywhere near as good as the book. The books were always ten times better than the movies. And frankly, I liked some of those movies.

Anyway, happy writing everyone! 

Of Babies and Signs by Konnie Enos

 

My daughter recently posted a link to a post on Love What Matters. I read it then followed links at the bottom to other posts by the same woman. One link was about her fourth pregnancy and her concern about whether or not she would have twins. At this point, she had already given birth to four girls (her three previous pregnancies, one set of twins) and had adopted a young boy.

She had an early ultrasound to assure her it was only one. The ultrasound staff gave both blue and pink hats to expectant parents. When it came time to give her these hats, they couldn’t find a pink one.

The staff member said it was a sign it’d be a boy because lacking one color had never happened before. With four girls, she didn’t think she could have a boy. She mentioned this to no one until after her baby, a boy, was born. (You can read her story here: Love WhatMatters )

This all reminded me of something that happened to us.

Just after we got married, Jerry and I started discussing names for our future children. I started making a list of names we agreed on. In no time we had five names, all for girls. I insisted we needed names for boys too.

Over the next three or four months we eventually agreed upon five boy names. By then we were already expecting baby number one so I pulled out the list and asked Jerry which names we should consider for this first baby.

The first name on our list was the first one he’d put forward, it was the name he wanted to name his daughter. I agreed, our oldest daughter would be Clarissa. (There is another story about how my father confirmed our oldest daughter would be Clarissa). I then said I wanted to name my son Royce. Jerry refused. We compromised. Our first son would be Anthony, but I insisted our second son would be Royce. From this point forward I was adamant I would have two boys.

 The next time we learned we were expecting, I pulled out the list and said we needed to pick a girl’s name for our second child, just in case this time it wasn’t a boy. Jerry picked the name he liked and I, again, had no reason to oppose him. So our second child would be either Kristina or Anthony. We had Kristina.

When I got pregnant a third time this repeated though both my third and fourth pregnancies ended in miscarriage. When I got pregnant a fifth time we waited until I was in my second trimester to again check the list. We only needed a girl's name. I had reasons to pick Melinda and Jerry did not oppose me. We had Melinda.

My sixth and seventh pregnancies ended before we could consider which name we would use if we had yet another girl.

Then we got pregnant for the eighth time. We again pulled out the list but we only had two girls’ names left and could not agree which one we would use if we had another girl. I finally felt I would wait until I saw our daughter before deciding. It was never an issue. We had Anthony.

When I shortly thereafter got pregnant yet again I didn’t even pull out the list, preferring to wait until I knew we were past the first trimester. Since it was unclear when I conceived they scheduled an ultrasound at which they established I was already in my second trimester and we were indeed expecting a boy. We never had to pull the list out because we already knew I would name our second son Royce.

I did, however, look for the list to refresh my memory on what names were on it.

Through at least six moves and about a decade, I had always been able to find it. This time I could not. I have not seen it since we discussed what we would name our fourth child if we had another girl.

  To this day I can still remember the names I would have given two more girls, but I cannot tell you the remaining three boy names. And though I did conceive one more time, I miscarried long before we would have taken the time to discuss possible names.

Somehow the missing list was the biggest message we could have. There would be no more kids in our family.

Well, until our grandkids came along. So far we have one beautiful granddaughter and another granddaughter is expected in October, just in time for my daughter’s 30th birthday.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Reading and Other Pastimes by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I think I have bitten off more than I handle.

I have plans for crafts to make for Christmas, and I even have the supplies, but when will I have the time to make them? Honestly, I’ve had the supplies for a couple of years now.

I’ve also been trying to practice my clarinet, but there is that time problem again because I also have signed up for a class online that I have to finish by the end of May and let’s not forget that I have a job and two different volunteer jobs, and a sister-in-law who needs rides periodically.

I know for most people this pandemic has meant doing less, staying home (and honestly it did for me at first) but then I needed to find a job and things started to open up again, and now I’m busier than ever! HELP!

There are not enough hours in the day especially since I’ve been doing so much reading since Christmas.

Right after Christmas, I started reading clear through all my Dick and Felix Francis novels, every last one of them, with a short break to read “Crooked Swan” (which I mentioned in an earlier post) but now I’ve finished those novels and, after reading one of my romances, have switched to my HP books.

Okay, not a good idea being as I’m such a slow reader, but clearly, I’m getting a ton of reading done this year.

If you count just before Christmas when I read the first twelve Boxcar Children books (which I also own) then all the Francis novels I own, including the one Konnie gave me for Christmas, that’s another thirty-nine books, and I’m currently on book four of the HP series, so that makes (counting The Crooked Swan and that romance) fifty-seven books in approximately sixteen weeks.

If you want to just count this calendar year, that cuts it down to about forty-three books read, so far, but I’m doing that at the expense of other pursuits.

And I’d really like to get better at playing my clarinet, make those Christmas crafts, and do some other sewing for me, all while working twenty hours a week, volunteering another seven hours a week, doing things like running my own errands and helping my sister-in-law run hers and of course my course work and learning excel.

On top of all that, one of the local stations I get shows Star Trek the original, NextGen, DS9, Voyager, and Enterprise in that order from six until ten Sunday through Friday nights. I don’t stay up to watch Enterprise, sometimes I don’t even watch DS9 and Voyager because I’d rather read, but I do want to watch them.

I’m at a point when I have to choose what is more important.

That’s never an easy task for me, probably because I’m on the spectrum.

I am trying.

For starters, I need to read my scriptures more than fiction.

Second, I need to finish that course and learn excel to get a better job, something that isn’t temporary.

Third, I need to lose weight. I need to exercise, and I have been trying to work on that, promise.

And fourth, I need to write my post.

With so much time on her hands, Konnie has already written her next post and has an idea for the one after that. I can’t say the same. She had to remind me it was my turn to post this week.

Yikes!

Worse still she reminded me right when I remembered I had homework and practice still do and as well as clean the litterbox and feed both me and Patches.

And that meant missing my shows!

Plus, I’m only on the twelfth chapter of Goblet of Fire, and for anyone who knows the HP series, you know that isn’t very far into the book.

And no, I have no intention of reading every book I own before Christmas this year, for one thing, that would impossible. I have too many. Just physical books I have tons; if you add in what’s on my reader and I swear I’m pushing three hundred if not more.

Actually, it’s probably more because I’m certain I have way more books than Nativities and at this point I have well over two hundred Nativities counting tree decorations and my jewelry.

Of course, some of those books are craft, cook, and instructional books. (i.e. my clarinet books.)

And let’s not forget that I'm a writer! I do have several WIP’s. The most urgent of which is my epic sci-fi which I have been trying to work on, occasionally. I really should put more time into it.

I also have some counted cross-stitch designs I’d love to get done, including one which is a Nativity, but who has time?

Something has to give, but what?

Anyway, happy writing everyone.

Of Learning Curves and Tech by Konnie Enos

 

My husband, Jerry, and I (not to mention Bonnie) were born well before the “information age”. The first computer I ever saw in person was one of those large monitors about the size of those small TVs, the kind with the tubes, and therefore a fairly good-sized box. It also had another box that held the computer processing components. Finally the keyboard. Of course, everything was attached with wires, cords, and such. It took up the whole desk.

“War Games” starring Matthew Broderick came out a year or two later. This was our first introduction to the possibility of one computer “talking” to another one over the phone lines.

I got my first computer over a decade later and it needed a separate “modem” to get on the internet. I only wanted it to write, so I didn’t care. However, when I finally went out and bought my own, it was internet-capable, though it was still dial-up.

I could also go into the changes in phones.

Sometime in the mid-1960s, with the advent of shows like “Get Smart”, they started showing spies and wealthy people having phones that weren’t attached to the wall in their homes. The wealthy people had phones attached inside their cars. Spies (i.e.: Get Smart) had phones hidden in things like their shoes. But it was in the mid-to early ’80s before any useable cellphones were produced and they were huge and not cheap.

I got my first cell phone after I got my first internet-capable computer.

The picture I’m painting is, we were adults before we had to learn how to use computers or cellphones.

I’ve been able to access the internet for 22 years. I know this because I got it with my income tax return when I was pregnant with my oldest son, who is now 21.

My point is, both of my boys have grown up in a household with the internet, computers, and cellphones. I have not.

Over the last 30 years or so I have gradually learned how to use all this. I now own a laptop, tablet, kindle, and cellphone, all web capable.

My youngest son, Royce, who is the most tech-savvy of all of us, has noticed I don’t need much help using tech. I can usually figure how to navigate, programs, apps, and websites on my own. I believe Bonnie does about that well with her tech.

Jerry on the other hand cannot go more than a day without asking Royce to show him yet again how to do some task or get to some website or fix yet another problem for the umpteenth time.

When he needs help, Royce patiently spends hours, telling him again and again, how to do, or fix, whatever the problem is this time. I’ve personally listened to these long sessions knowing Jerry won’t remember it in another hour if he even retains it that long.

Yes, Royce has helped me with things on my tech that I will never remember how to do. Something messes up on my tech. Royce comes in and clicks buttons, moves through screens, and eventually figures out the solution. Then I never have the same problem again so I forget what he did. When it is something I’ll need to use again, he doesn’t have to show me twice. I remember it, but those things are rare occurrences.

Examples: In the last few weeks Jerry has asked for Royce’s help to either get into his accounts or organize his files. Royce will patiently show him what to do and how to do it and the next day Jerry is asking him how to do the same thing again. This is pretty much daily.

On the other hand, I don’t remember the last time I had to have any tech help from Royce.

Then recently I mentioned to Jerry, with Royce in the room, that I needed to do something which would require me to leave the house, i.e.: run an errand.

Royce asked why I didn’t do it with my tech.

I didn’t know how.

With his help, fifteen minutes later I’d taken care of the matter, and I’ll remember it should I need to do it again.

Jerry blames his inability to understand tech on his age. I’m the same age he is.

How many Baby Boomers do you know who can navigate today’s tech? How many do you know like Jerry who finds it difficult to grasp? How many Millennials or Centennials do you know who haven’t grown up using all things tech?

It reminds me of our parents trying to understand/use those newfangled devices of their era. Things like VCRs, microwaves, and digital clocks. If it needed “programed” the kids had to do it because the parents just couldn’t figure it out.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.