CALL ME CRAZY!

Sigh! I love being in airports. I love seeing all the people, all the workers, all the different luggage. I love watching the ticket agents, the pilots and crew members getting ready for their next flight. The airport environment is so stimulating to me. There is life here! And if all this was not enough fun, there are interesting people to sit next to on the plane. I'm still friends with many of them on Facebook, staying in touch. Call me crazy, but I believe you can meet some of the nicest people on earth at an airport. Today I'll be in Laguardia, Midway, and San Diego. Sigh...I really hate for it to end. (Yes, I'm probably crazy!)

10 REASONS TO BE JUMPING FOR JOY!

1. I'm a Believer!
2. I'm happily married.
3. I have plenty to eat.
4. I have a place to sleep every night.
5. I am in great health.
6. I have wonderful children.
7. I have wonderful grandchildren.
8. I have a rewarding writing career. 
9. I have too many friends to count.
10. I have no time to complain.

Can you count 10 reasons to be jumping for joy? 

NICE REVIEW BY SCARLETT RAINS

Something’s fishy at the Ritz…and it doesn’t sit well on a cracker!  

---

 

Murder in Half Moon Bay

My Review

By Scarlett Rains

Murder in Half Moon Bay, (Jillian Bradley Mysteries, No. 1) is an entertaining, fast-paced, read. Nancy Jill Thames’s clever protagonist, Jillian Bradley, doesn’t miss a beat.  She, and her garden club friends, arrives at the West Coast Garden Club Society’s Annual Conference in Half Moon Bay expecting to relax, spend the weekend gleaning gardening tips, whiling away pleasant hours surveying plant specimens, and sampling great food.  Jillian quickly realizes there is something fishy going on at the Ritz…and she’s not talking about fertilizer! The soil at the Ritz-Carton doesn’t need enrichment.  Bodies are popping up over there faster than bean sprouts on steroids!  Good thing Jillian is not only a gardening expert, but a VERY good listener, a keen observer of detail…and a list-maker.  Put all that together, stir in the ‘contributions’ of Teddy (Jillian’s little Yorkie –who may just be telepathic!) and you’ve got yourself a great potting mix for a budding detective. 

As Nancy Jill Thames’s delightful story unfolds, a botanist might prove more useful than the FBI or the local police department.  All sorts of cross-pollination seems to be going on, what with social butterflies flitting around, landing in who knows whose room, and things taking root where they never should have been planted!   I’m not one for spoilers, but there are weeds that need pulling at the Ritz-Carlton and Jillian’s just the gal for the job. She and her friends waste no time. They get to work, digging in the dirt, to solve the mystery.

I enjoyed Thames’s family-friendly mystery very much.  This charming book earned 4/5 hearts. I would have given it 5/5, but one of the plot points troubled me.  As brilliant as Jillian clearly is, I couldn’t see a police chief allowing her to question suspects, until later in the series —after she establishes her stellar reputation as a sleuth. That trifle aside, Murder in Half Moon Bay is the sort of book to enjoy on a rainy day, snuggled in a recliner with a nice cup of Jillian’s favorite, Lady Earl Grey, tea.  I recommend it to anyone who enjoys a clever mystery that’s not soaked in blood and gore.  I look forward to reading all of the Jillian Bradley Mysteries.

Book Description (per Amazon)

Publication Date: April 10, 2012

When a shocking murder disrupts the West Coast Garden Club Society's second annual conference, gardening columnist Jillian Bradley joins with Chief Frank Viscuglia to help in the investigation. Could it be the mean spirited conference director? Perhaps it's the wealthy widow on the make for her next husband; or maybe the killer is the haughty business woman who shows no regard for her brow beaten husband.

Set in beautiful Half Moon Bay at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, Jillian moves through the exclusive hotel property, local nurseries, colorful restaurants, and private mansions searching for the truth, pausing with her friends for cups of afternoon tea along the way. She uncovers a series of mysterious events that lead to solving several murders, both past and present. With the help of her garden club friends and her Yorkshire terrier 'Teddy', Jillian discovers not only a killer, but a far greater menace that could threaten us all.

Product Details

·         Paperback: 178 pages

·         Publisher: CreateSpace (April 10, 2012)

·         Language: English       

      ISBN-10: 1452882088
·         ISBN-13: 978-1452882086

QUEEN OF AFTERNOON TEA CELEBRITY AUTHOR INTERVIEW

"QUEEN OF THE WEEK"
CELEBRITY AUTHOR 
SHARON LEAF
 

COME JOIN US FOR SOME PEANUT BUTTER PIE AND A CUP OF TEA!

"QUEEN OF AFTERNOON TEA"

                                                                     

SUNNY OR DARK SIDE? YOU CHOOSE...

Sometimes I could just explode with happiness! Do you ever feel that way? Sure, it's partly temperament, but I believe it's also a choice. No matter what happens, we can decide to find the good in any situation. Try it today and see what happens. I think you'll find you'll feel happier if you do. 


Blessings on your day, dear friends!
~Nancy Jill

FORMING GOOD HABITS?

Ever wonder why someone else seems to be more successful than you are? For me, the journey to success is often blocked with spending too much time doing unimportant things. Confession: I spend too much time on Facebook, but I do have 650 friends to keep up with, right? Okay, maybe I should only check posts three times a day instead of fifty. Hmm. That might give me more time to write! 

Habits take at least 21 days of repeating before they become one. Today, I will begin to check Facebook this evening. Tomorrow I will only check it in the morning, at noon, and before I go to bed. What about you? Are you a Facebook junkie?

LOOKING FOR SOME FUN?

Ever wonder what the word "fun" means to you? Going out on the weekends? Disneyland? A cruise? Okay, I'll admit, breaks are nice but come on, be honest.  You're sitting there at dinner, or on a bench at Disneyland, or where ever, and you think, I'm bored. Well, maybe it's just us creative types who get bored. Anyway, what I've found is that when I'm doing something I love to do (writing murder mysteries, serving afternoon tea, or making dinner for my grandchildren) I'm having FUN! Because within those activities I feel I matter, and validation is what we all really need to feel good. What does "having fun" mean to you?

PLEASE JOIN US FOR AFTERNOON TEA!

MEET THE LOVELY ADA BROWNELL, CELEBRITY AUTHOR

"QUEEN OF AFTERNOON TEA" BLOG

A FAVORITE SUMMER DRINK...

TONIC WITH A TWIST

One of our favorite drinks for the summer is a tonic with a twist of lime. We use diet-tonic water and enjoy a refreshing beverage with almost zero calories. Close your eyes and visualize me handing you a freshly made glass. Perfect for sipping as you get comfy, settle in, and begin to read your favorite cozy mystery. Here's to you! What? No cozy mystery to read? No problem! Just click on the slideshow and you can download a book. Enjoy!

SORRY, I COULDN'T RESIST!

 I just changed my blog to reflect my true intent. I'm hoping to connect with all you cozy mystery lovers out there! I will still share positive thoughts and ideas about life in general. 

Welcome to the new format!


Have a lovely weekend, and I'll see you Monday for "Queen of Afternoon Tea" Celebrity Author Interview with Ada Brownell.

WHEN YOU NEED A FRIEND...

Up the "Down" Ladder

Sometimes a person suffering from depression just needs a friend to talk to. And a friend like Dolores Ayotte would be an excellent choice. In her book, "Up the "Down" Ladder", Dolores shares insights from her experience with depression and simple steps to manage it. She cites numerous authorities on the subject, and writes the book in a conversational way, just as if she and the reader were sharing over a cup of coffee. If you are a person suffering from depression, I would highly recommend reading this book. Sometimes, you just need a friend.Thanks for being mine!

PULLS YOU IN...

Paperback $13.95 Kindle $6.99

Thought I'd share a review I just gave for an excellent writer and celebrity author friend of mine.


Promises of the Heart, written by Scarlett Rains, is an eighteenth century tale of a young girl’s coming of age. The first thing I really liked about this book was the lovely graphics reflecting the time period in London, England. The reader is also pulled into the story at once with carefully crafted prose appealing to all five senses. For example: watching the fluffy clouds lazily form shapes that quickly swirled into other shapes in the gentle breeze…a cacophony of sounds bombarded the weary coachman: the hue and cry of merchants and street people rose up above the clopping of the horses hooves in a relentlessly forlorn lament. Scarlett Rains does a masterful job on style continuity throughout the entire novel. Somewhat like Charles Dickens, but more like the Victoria Holt novels I read profusely at one time in my life, Promises of the Heart resonates with cleverly woven intrigue surrounded by authentic characters of the day. Historical novels should inform about the life and times of the era—Promises of the Heart did not disappoint! The segue to her second novel Seduction of a Bluestocking was a perfect cliffhanger, enticing the reader to find out what happens next. Well done, Scarlett Rains! Five Stars!

LIFE IS LIKE A CUP OF COFFEE...

Feeling philosophical about life today, so here is a video I thought you'd enjoy!

AHH, SUMMER VACATION...

School's out! Hooray! Now
what do we do? Well, as a stay at home mom with not a whole lot of disposable income for expensive summer camps, I created my own diversion for the kiddies. Every week day had a theme: Library Day, Friend Day, Park and Picnic Day, Swim Day, and Craft Day. All the neighborhood kids were invited to participate and we had a blast! My favorite was Park and Picnic Day when we took a lunch and fed the ducks. Fond memories that our children will never forget. Nor will their friends. And now, my son's friend who was such an integral part of those summer vacations is studying for the Bar Exam...Will you be making memories for your children this summer? And then there's Camp Grandma Fun...but that's another story. Enjoy your summer, my friends.  

P.S. And don't forget to get a copy of my new book for your summer reading list. Thank you!

"PACIFIC BEACH" Kindle $3.99  or Paperback $9.89

       

"QUEEN OF AFTERNOON TEA" CELEBRITY AUTHOR INTERVIEW

"QUEEN OF THE WEEK"
CELEBRITY AUTHOR                                    
JENNIFER STEEN 

 

Welcome! Let me pour you a cup of peppermint tea; I heard it was your favorite. By the way, I've included your recipe at the end of the interview. Please help yourself to a roast beef and  brie sandwich. We also have a black raspberry torte for dessert.

Where do you live? Tell us a little bit about yourself.

Hey there! I live in Leander, Texas with my family. I’m a mother of three beautiful kiddies. I have two boys and a girl (7, 5, and 3). I love to write (obviously) and I played the marimba and occasionally paint. I also teach the children music at my church. My favorite things to do usually involve do things outdoors in beautiful places, and spending time with my kids. I’m also extremely addicted to writing. I basically write for work AND pleasure. I’m also pursuing an English/Creative Writing degree from Southern New Hampshire University. I’m a Navy veteran, and served for six years between 2000 and 2006. I’ve traveled to many different states, and have been overseas. I decided to stay home with my kiddies while they were young (military life was super hard for my oldest when he was a baby so I wanted to slow things down a bit). Now, I’m gradually getting back into the real world since they are getting closer to school age. I feel like I’ve lived two totally different lives. I understand the working world and the stay at home mother world pretty well. I enjoy writing for women, teens, and I also like to write stories for a general audience. I do fiction as well as theater and I have a goal to add screen plays to my list of accomplishments at some point. I’ll have the opportunity to learn screen play format sometime during my degree program.

Are you a traditionally published or Indie author?

Well, I’m published through Twenty or Less Press and Books to Go Now. I do not represent myself, but those publishers are small, and they are considered Indie Publishers simply because of their size. Each one seems to be specializing in a certain chunk of the e-book market. I highly recommend them for any author who doesn’t have a lot of capital to invest in their own writing, but who would still like to get something out there. They do short stories and novellas mainly, and will do editing, promotion, and cover art at no extra cost—they just take a percentage of your royalties like any typical publisher.

What are your hobbies? 

I play Marimba (it’s like a pretty sounding xylophone), I sketch and paint, and I take pictures to put on my walls. I’ve always enjoyed music, but the other hobbies I picked up in order to make my home look nice while still living on a budget. We are poor college students, but I personally like to feel like I have money, even if I don’t. J Having my own paintings (water color/acrylic) and my own photography up makes me feel a lot of things, mainly artsy, brave, and pampered. All good things.

Tell us about your current book. What was your inspiration?

Well, the two books I have for sale currently are “Rain Plays Barefoot” and “A Little Push”. “Rain Plays Barefoot” was inspired by life as the only girl percussionist in my Middle School. It may seem sort of backward, but in some schools there used to be some unspoken rules about which instruments girls were supposed to play and which instruments boys were supposed to play. I wanted to play the drums, and, I was pretty good. This sort of meant that I was changing things for people, like their mindsets, but really…I just wanted to do, what I wanted to do. There were quite a few awkward moments, breaking into a world of boys that had hither to been closed, and so I thought that some of those memories would be entertaining to people. And of course…there’s a crush and all of that. I’ve jumbled things up rather nicely, and I will never admit which of the parts of that escapade are true or untrue ;-).

“A Little Push” is based on an epiphany I had one afternoon while riding a tandem bike with my oldest son. We always try to save money, and it had been a particularly annoying day, and we were riding up hill, and I had a backpack. I had a lot of worries on my mind, and then I realized that William was helping me get up the hill. Without even realizing it he was there pulling his weight. So, even though most of the events in the story are fictional, the epiphany was true to life, and represents a very special life lesson to me. I hope everyone can use it as inspiration in their own lives, no matter what sort of struggle they are going through.

How did you become a writer? When did you start?

I started writing when I was about 13 years old. My first novel ended up being a copy of Star Wars…only with different names. Yes, it was just bad! J But, everyone has to start somewhere, and nearly everyone (especially children) emulates stories they love when they first start to write. One of the reasons I joined the Navy was because I knew, even at eighteen, that I wanted to be a writer, but I also knew that I didn’t have enough life experience to write compelling stories. I want to go out and explore and live life, and then I’d be able to take those experiences and process them for years afterward. This is very true, but now I understand that the best thing to do is write WHILE you’re living your life. So, it is good to go out and experience things to get inspiration, but you don’t need to wait for grand things to happen to you. You can find inspiration everywhere you are. You just have to have the right sort of eyes to see the stories there.

How long did it take you to finish your first book?

Well, it was only a short story. I wrote it in its first form in just a day or so. Then I let it sit on my Storywrite account for a few years. One day, I randomly decided that “this is the day, this is when I WILL get published!” So I searched through my files for something that I thought might tempt a publisher. “Rain Plays Barefoot” was the first one. First, I thought that Rain was a very compelling character. She just sort of jumps out at you from the page. You grow empathy for her almost immediately, and she’s very unique. Also, I liked that within the limited world of Middle School drama, she was doing a very brave thing. She was like a hero in miniature—if you look at Middle School as being a microcosm of the world at large—and that really appealed to me. So, I sent it into Books to Go Now, and in two weeks they sent me the acceptance letter. Actually, I had also sent in “A Little Push” out to a different publisher just two days after I sent RPB and I got both acceptances back on the same day. It was my birthday last year. Like seriously, that day was the luckiest day ever. I’ll never forget it.

I also recently got “Black Friday” accepted by Books to Go Now. It will most likely come out sometime near the Black Friday holiday. It’s something different than what I’ve done before. It’s a little dark actually. It’s a thriller, involves a serial killer, but it also has those little rays of light which I love. It is extremely dark—for me—but it does comment about our society as a whole. I sort of discovered something just as a person by writing it, and I hope that the readers discover something too. I just wanted it to be a little something more than just another gory slasher story. But admittedly, it does delve into murder, why it happens, how that person’s mind works. If you enjoy human psychology, then it certainly would be a good book for you.

Where do you like to write?

I write everywhere. At my house, at the library, in the car, and I’m actually building my own writing room in my garage. I also just love using pen and paper, and I have favorite haunts out by the lake, or on certain hiking trails. I also do people watching at the mall or I’ll even park at random gas stations and write about people as they fill up their cars. Yeah I know, I’m such a stalker! People probably think I’m weird, but I try not to be too obvious when I do it. Like I give myself one or two glances, and then I have to write whatever comes to my mind about them. That’s a brilliant way to find stories, or find characters by the way.

Favorite author(s)?

I read in a lot of different genres. Here we go:

Science Fiction/Fantasy: Anne McCaffery, Andre Norton, Orson Scott Card, Tolkein, JK Rowling, Frank Herbert

Classic Authors: Jane Austin, Elizabeth Gaskell, Edgar Allan Poe, Charles Dickens, the Bronte Sisters, John Steinbeck

Screen Writers: Felicia Day, Andrew Davies, Tim Burton

Playwrights: Christopher Durang, Marsha Norman, Arthur Miller, Neil Simon (some of his plays are awesome, some are boring).

How many books have you written, so far? Do you plan to write more?

I have two short stories published, and I have hundreds of short stories written. I have one Novel written, and thousands of story ideas. I am picky with what I will send out to publishers, but I hope to start a system to get more of my stories out to the public.

Would you like to share a link where we can purchase your books?

Sure. "RAIN PLAYS BAREFOOT"   For Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/Rain-Plays-Barefoot-ebook/dp/B005BTMTYA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1338809225&sr=1-1

For Nook:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/rain-plays-barefoot-jennifer-steen/1104197325?ean=2940013191471


"A LITTLE PUSH" For Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/A-Little-Push-ebook/dp/B005JKEKZ2/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1338237541&sr=1-1

For Nook:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-little-push-jennifer-steen/1105440919?ean=2940011480249

What about a link to your website?

www.jensteen.net

One awesome review I’ve received:

Five Stars from Kiki and Jules Reviews: “As I have said before, Jennifer Steen is the short story goddess!! She once again pulls you into the life of her main character. You quickly become invested in the small twists and turns in the peek she gives you. This time Steen takes us back to middle school and what it was like to have that first crush. I was so taken back, and loved every minute of it.


Rain is not your typical tween. Not that she is weird, but she's not really on the same page as her fellow classmates. As her best friend, Jacey, and the other girls her age primp and poof themselves in hopes to catch some young man's attention, Rain would rather skip it all and just hang with the boys. She feels very comfortable in her own skin and feels no need to primp for attention. Not that she doesn't care what others think, but feels she has to do what she is most comfortable with. Most of the time that's on the basketball court with James or in band on the drum line with the rest of the guys. But there is a point where all Jacey's talk of boys and her current pubescent emotions get the best of her and she develops her first crush. Rain ends up conflicted and changing her ways to fit the ideals of a boy.


I refuse to tell any more of this delightful short story and encourage you to read. I will say I love, love the ending. It is perfect and sends the message I would want my child to see. Always stay true to yourself. If people don't love you just the way you are, then they aren't the people for you!!”

Jenny, thank you so much for the interview today. It has been a pleasure. I wish you all the best in your writing endeavors, my friend. And for you readers, Jenny has shared her recipe for peppermint tea. Enjoy!

My favorite kind of tea is peppermint. I love love this, and you can make it for a healthy Christmas substitute for hot chocolate.

Peppermint Tea

1 tbsp of peppermint leaves per cup of water. (Can get the fresh leaves they sell with rosemary and oregano at the grocery store)

Boil on stove until tasty

Poor in mugs, and add non-dairy creamer and a candy cane (if desired).

Also you can chuck the candy and creamer and it aids an upset stomach.

<--herbal hobbyist

HEAR THE SUNSET...GET READY

PACIFIC BEACH

BY

NANCY JILL THAMES 

AVAILABLE SOON

Fifth in The Jillian Bradley Mystery Series

Gardening columnist Jillian Bradley is attending the Lovejoy Family Reunion, held at The Pacific Terrace Hotel in the quaint surfing town north of San Diego. This happy gathering of Jillian's eclectic relatives takes a terrifying turn when two other hotel guests, a young starlet and her mother, are found brutally murdered.


 

 When Jillian's nephew, Chase Campbell, is arrested as a prime suspect, Jillian must move quickly to find the real killer and prove Chase's innocence. There is no shortage of suspects, including an unsavory doctor who attended the popular teen star and a mysterious guest at the party where the starlet died. But why was her mother murdered with her?

Working at Jillian's side to find the perpetrator of these bizarre killings are her faithful assistant, Cecilia Montoya, and Teddy, Jillian's Yorkie companion, who sniffs out  his own clue.

HAPPY FRIDAY!

THE BIG 'O'...ARE YOU ONE?

Yes, I borrowed this. But when you can't say it any better...thanks Marc and Angel!

 Marc and Angel Hack Life

Click above for their site.

Optimist:  Person who travels on nothing
from nowhere to happiness.
–Mark Twain

Some people are more optimistic by nature, but optimism is not a fixed attribute.  It’s a choice we have control over.  Every morning, we either choose to wake up grumpy or wake up with a positive outlook.  Research has shown that, in the long run, optimistic people handle stress better, get sick less often, live longer, and are happier and more successful than their pessimistic counterparts.
The good news is that we can all develop skills to improve optimism.  Here are nine ideas to get you started:

1.  Find the opportunity in every difficulty.

‘Optimist’ is a word which here refers to a person who focuses on the positive.  For instance, if an optimist lost her left arm in a car accident, she might say in a hopeful voice, “I’m alive.  I don’t have my left arm anymore, but I do have my right one, and my life still to live.”
Optimism does not mean ignoring the problem entirely; it means understanding that setbacks are inevitable, often temporary, and that you have the skills and abilities to combat the challenges you face.  What you are dealing with may be difficult, but it is important to remain hopeful and positive about a brighter future.  Optimism will inspire a sense of hopefulness and the confidence that is required to take full advantage of the opportunities that do exist.  Remember, the most beautiful rainbows come from the sunlight after a very dark storm.  Read Full Catastrophe Living.

2.  Surround yourself with positive people.

You are only as good as the company you keep.  If you’re around gloomy people, there’s a good chance you won’t to be smiling.  Make it your mission to dodge negativity.  Surround yourself with supportive friends who have positive outlooks.  As they say, if you want to soar with the eagles, you have to stop hanging out with the ducks.
Optimism is a learned habit, and it is positively contagious.  Surround yourself with people who could infect you with positivity.  In turn pass your new good mood on to a friend or stranger in words and deed – let somebody have that parking space, let that person with only a few items cut in front of you at the market.  The simple act of doing something nice for others is actually a good pick-me-up all by itself.

3.  Give love, receive love, and invest in love.

LOVE:  It’s the greatest force in the universe.  It’s a treasure that people would give anything for, yet it costs nothing to give and receive. There is an endless supply, and it can be extended to family, friends and strangers at any moment.  It increases positivity and acts like a shield against negativity.  It forgives, heals, encourages and inspires.
Give love, receive love and invest in love every day.  Because where you invest your love, you invest your life.

4.  Be realistic, and expect ups and downs.

A foundation of realism keeps things in perspective, and helps prevent things from being blown out of proportion.  Just because you’re an optimist doesn’t mean you’re not going to have bad days.  You will – that’s reality.  Life isn’t always rainbows and butterflies.
Trying to be 100% positive all the time is wanting to be an ocean in which waves only rise up and never come crashing down.  However, when we recognize that the rising and crashing waves are part of the same one ocean, we are able to let go and be at peace with the way things are.
Bottom line:  Prepare for the worst but hope for the best – the former makes you sensible, and the latter makes you an optimist.  Read Awareness: The Perils and Opportunities of Reality.

5.  Inspire yourself with a smile and positive reminders.

If you expect the worst, the worst will happen.  If you let things bother you, they will.  But if you smile, you’ll feel better.  Studies have shown that putting a cheerful smile on your face can trigger a part of your brain that actually makes you feel happier and more optimistic about the present and future.
Also, feed your optimism with positive reminders.  Write down short statements that inspire optimism.  Put them in places where you’ll see them every day, such as on your bathroom mirror, the inside of your locker, and on your computer monitor.

• “Anything is possible.”
• “Lead a life of positivity.”
• “The only thing I can control is my attitude towards life.”
• “I always have a choice.”
• “Even the longest journey begins with a single step.”
• “I will look at the sunny side of everything and make my optimism shine.”

Read The Happiness Project.

6.  Work on the things you can control.

Pessimism is impractical because it causes you to spend time dwelling on negative things that haven’t happened yet, while simultaneously preventing you from getting things done now.  Pessimism breeds indecision.  It’s a waste of time, and time is a limited resource that you can’t afford to take for granted.  Every minute spent worrying guarantees nothing but less time to enjoy what life has to offer.
The solution?  Acknowledge the things you can’t control and don’t become a victim.  Stop thinking about what is happening to you, and start thinking about what you can do to make it better.  Know that you almost always have a choice. Is your job a bummer?  Find a new one.  Not ready to leave because of your 401K and vacation time?  Then celebrate those reasons and remember that you chose to stay.

7.  Count your blessings.

There is so much good, so much beauty, so much love in your life.  You have so much right now to be thankful for, you just need to pause long enough to appreciate it.  Do so.  This will help frame a better attitude and take your mind off of the negatives.
Start a feel-good journal.  Buy a blank journal and fill it with things that make you smile, like a photo of your pet, or a compliment a friend gave you.  Use it to track your accomplishments and celebrate your victories.  Stick only positive things in your journal and open it up whenever you’re feeling down.

8.  Appreciate that nothing in life is permanent.

Research has shown that optimists and pessimists attribute the reasons for success and failure differently.  Pessimists tend to attribute negative events to permanent, personal, and pervasive factors.  Optimists tend to attribute negative events to non-personal, non-permanent, and non-pervasive factors.  ‘Permanent’ are factors that will be with you throughout life; ‘personal’ are factors that relate to us as individuals; and ‘pervasive’ are factors that affect our ability in other parts of our life.
Bottom line:  Nothing is permanent.  However good or bad a situation is now, it will change.

9.  Focus on the present.

People often obsess themselves with the past and the future.  But life is happening right now.  You can’t learn something or remember something that’s happening now if your mind is stuck in another time.
It takes about eight seconds of intense focus to process a new piece of information into your long-term memory.  So don’t let your life and your mind slip away.  Instead of dwelling on the past or worrying about the future, practice being and living in the present moment.  Remember, right now is the only moment guaranteed to you.  Right now is life.  Don’t miss it.

So, who's with me?

SIT BACK, RELAX, AND ENJOY...

Had to share the loveliness of this guest ranch resort...I hope you enjoy the video as it takes you away. Click the link.

Hacienda del Sol Guest Ranch Resort - Tucson, AZ

Tucson's renowned luxury resort, Hacienda del Sol Guest Ranch Resort emanates intimacy, vintage style, and authentic Southwestern ambiance. Rich in Tucson history, the resort is nestled in the foothills of the Santa Catalina Mountains on 34 acres of natural desert landscape. Botanical gardens envelop the resort's private casitas, guestrooms, and suites. Authentic 1929 adobe structures and hand-carved wood-beamed ceilings are just some of the resort's preserved details amid its many modern day amenities. 1-800-728-6514 www.haciendadelsol.com

TAKE THE LOVE QUIZ

This post is a request from a new friend I met on the plane yesterday. Thought I'd share it with you.

Gary Chapman's book "The 5 Love Languages" has been around a long time. It might open your eyes to help you understand how you or someone you love speaks "love".  Take the quiz and see what love language you speak. My language is Words of Affirmation and Quality Time. My husbands is Acts of Service. When I speak to him in his "language" he feels loved, and when he speaks to me in mine, I feel loved, too. Have fun taking the quiz. Let me know what your language is!

The 5 Love Languages®

What if you could say or do just the right thing guaranteed to make that special someone feel loved? The secret is learning the right love language! Millions of couples have learned the simple way to express their feelings and bring joy back into marriage: The 5 Love Languages, Dr. Gary Chapman’s New York Times bestseller.

 #1: Words of Affirmation
Actions don’t always speak louder than words. If this is your love language, unsolicited compliments mean the world to you. Hearing the words, “I love you,” are important—hearing the reasons behind that love sends your spirits skyward. Insults can leave you shattered and are not easily forgotten.

 #2: Quality Time
For those whose love language is spoken with Quality Time, nothing says, “I love you,” like full, undivided attention. Being there for this type of person is critical, but really being there—with the TV off, fork and knife down, and all chores and tasks on standby—makes your significant other feel truly special and loved. Distractions, postponed dates, or the failure to listen can be especially hurtful.

 #3: Receiving Gifts
Don’t mistake this love language for materialism; the receiver of gifts thrives on the love, thoughtfulness, and effort behind the gift. If you speak this language, the perfect gift or gesture shows that you are known, you are cared for, and you are prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to you. A missed birthday, anniversary, or a hasty, thoughtless gift would be disastrous—so would the absence of everyday gestures.

 #4: Acts of Service
Can vacuuming the floors really be an expression of love? Absolutely! Anything you do to ease the burden of responsibilities weighing on an “Acts of Service” person will speak volumes. The words he or she most want to hear: “Let me do that for you.” Laziness, broken commitments, and making more work for them tell speakers of this language their feelings don’t matter.

 #5: Physical Touch This language isn’t all about the bedroom. A person whose primary language is Physical Touch is, not surprisingly, very touchy. Hugs, pats on the back, holding hands, and thoughtful touches on the arm, shoulder, or face—they can all be ways to show excitement, concern, care, and love. Physical presence and accessibility are crucial, while neglect or abuse can be unforgivable and destructive.

The Five Love Languages Quiz

Select the one you prefer most of your two options, the one that fits the best right now. Circle the letter to the right of the option you most prefer.


1.
I like to receive notes of affirmation. A
I like to be hugged. E


2.
I like to spend one-to-one time with a person who is special to me.B
I feel loved when someone gives practical help to me.D


3.
I like it when people give me gifts.C
I like leisurely visits with friends and loved ones.B


4.
I feel loved when people do things to help me.D
I feel loved when people touch me.E


5.
I feel loved when someone I love or admire puts his or her arm around me.E
I feel loved when I receive a gift from someone I love or admire.C


6.
I like to go places with friends and loved ones.B
I like to high-five or hold hands with people who are special to me.E


7.
Visible symbols of love (gifts) are very important to me.C
I feel loved when people affirm me.E


8.
I like to sit close to people whom I enjoy being around.E
I like for people to tell me I am beautiful/handsome.A


9.
I like to spend time with friends and loved ones.B
I like to receive little gifts from friends and loved ones.C


10.
Words of acceptance are important to me.A
I know someone loves me when he or she helps me.D


11.
I like being together and doing things with friends and loved ones.B
I like it when kind words are spoken to me.A


12.
What someone does affects me more than what he or she says.D
Hugs make me feel connected and valued.E


13.
I value praise and try to avoid criticism.A
Several small gifts mean more to me than one large gift.C


14.
I feel close to someone when we are talking or doing something together.B
I feel closer to friends and loved ones when they touch me often.E


15.
I like for people to compliment my achievements.A
I know people love me when they do things for me that they don’t enjoy doing.D


16.
I like to be touched as friends and loved ones walk by.E
I like it when people listen to me and show genuine interest in what I am saying.B


17.
I feel loved when friends and loved ones help me with jobs or projects.D
I really enjoy receiving gifts from friends and loved ones.C


18.
I like for people to compliment my appearance.A
I feel loved when people take time to understand my feelings.B


19.
I feel secure when a special person is touching me.E
Acts of service make me feel loved.D


20.
I appreciate the many things that special people do for me.D
I like receiving gifts that special people make for me.C


21.
I really enjoy the feeling I get when someone gives me undivided attention.B
I really enjoy the felling I get when someone helps me make decisions.D


22.
I feel loved when a person celebrated my birthday with a gift.C
I feel loved when a person celebrates my birthday with meaningful words.A


23.
I know a person is thinking of me when he or she gives me a gift.C
I feel loved when a person helps with my chores.D


24.
I appreciate it when someone listens patiently and doesn’t interrupt me.B
I appreciate it when someone remembers special days with a gift.C


25.
I like knowing loved ones are concerned enough to help with my daily tasks.D
I enjoy extended trips with someone who is special to me.B


26.
I enjoy kissing or being kissed by people with whom I am close.E
I enjoy receiving a gift given for no special reason.C


27.
I like to be told that I am appreciated.A
I like for a person to look at me when we are talking.B


28.
Gifts from a friend or loved one are always special to me.C
I feel good when a friend or loved one touches me.E


29.
I feel loved when a person enthusiastically does some task I have requested.D
I feel loved when I am told how much I am needed.A


30.
I need to be touched every day.E
I need words of encouragement daily.A


Totals: A: B: C: D: E:
Count the number of A’s, B’s, C’s, D’s and E’s you have circled, and record them below. What is your “love language”?


 A = Words of Affirmation
 B = Quality Time
 C = Receiving Gifts
 D = Acts of Service
 E = Physical Touch


To take the quiz online, go to www.5lovelanguages.com/assessment.


Dr. Gary Chapman’s book, The Five Love Languages, can be purchased at your local bookstore, or through www.amazon.com.

QUEEN OF THE WEEK CELEBRITY AUTHOR INTERVIEW

"QUEEN OF THE WEEK"
CELEBRITY AUTHOR

LISA APRIL SMITH

Welcome! Let me pour you a cup of jasmine tea and we'll get started. Please have an herbal egg salad sandwich and a current scone. There's chocolate cake for dessert.

Where do you live?
I live in Eternal Playland, Florida, a delightful location just off I-95. I often describe it as a little piece of heaven with occasional dampness, where the bugs are plentiful but respectful, and even the smallest strip mall contains at least one pizza place and a nail salon.

Tell us a little bit about yourself.
Where to start? I’m an extravert who spends most of my day alone, except for my characters. I’m an optimist who believes that decency is an intrinsic trait of humankind, but always locks her car door.  I’ve always been good at math, but if my bank statement shows my balance to differ from my calculations by less than five dollars, I don’t bother looking for the error. Like both parents, I’ve always loved to read and assumed everyone did. As you can see, I’m often wrong.  


Are you a traditionally published or Indie author?
I’m an “Indie author,” and I adore the term. It indicates a choice. I got tired of waiting for the economy to improve and my stressed-out agent to concentrate on selling my book. I can alter a dress, hang a chandelier, rewire a light fixture, etc. I check symptoms on the internet before seeing a doctor. I like being self-sufficient and capable. The rise of digital books simplified my decision.


What are your hobbies?
Besides altering clothing, hanging chandeliers, designing jewelry and rewiring light fixtures? I play golf when the spirit moves me and I invent stories to entertain myself and others.

Tell us about your current book. What was your inspiration?
My books are generally inspired by media coverage of events and people that I find intriguing. Not too long ago Florida television and newspapers were reporting a story of a local Palm Beach man (ironically named Fagan) arrested for kidnapping his daughters eighteen years earlier, when they were 2 and 5 years old. The primary reason that it had taken eighteen years to find Fagan was that he had successfully reinvented himself. As William S. Martin, a handsome widower with two young daughters and no apparent means of support, Fagan had met and married a wealthy Palm Beach widow. After their divorce, another affluent woman agreed to wed and maintain his family’s luxurious lifestyle.
Neighbors, friends and the teachers at the girls’ tony private school all described him as “likeable,” “charming” and “devoted father.” Throughout his arrest and subsequent proceedings, his loyal third wife steadfastly stood by him, as did both daughters. Perhaps what most surprised people who followed the case was that the girls’ mother, a research scientist teaching at the University of Virginia, through the media and her attorney, repeatedly begged her daughters to meet with her and they refused. To my knowledge, they have not agreed to meet her.  
As I was following the case I found myself thinking that there was an even juicier story behind this headline-grabber and set out to create one. I began with a few core facts. A man with an invented name and history, twice married to wealthy widows, living in Palm Beach, playground of the mega-rich and famous, and involved in a crime. That’s one slick conman. Two adoring daughters unaware of their true identities. Over time my imagination happily supplied the rest. A townhouse off Fifth Avenue. A sprawling estate in Virginia. Romantic Paris in the years prior to WWII. A riveting past for Jack Morgan: skilled lover, lack-luster artist and irresistible rascal. A full-blown range of challenges and hard-wrought triumphs for his traumatized daughter Charlotte (Charlie).      

How did you become a writer? When did you start?
I received A’s on every paper I ever wrote, but took my skill for granted. I thought everyone could write good clean prose if they tried. It wasn’t until my kids were grown that I realized I had to try my hand at fiction. Once started, I was hooked.  


How long did it take you to finish your first book?
Two years. Dangerous Lies is approximately 100,000 words (300 pages).  I estimate that I wrote and deleted more than a million.   


Where do you like to write?
On my computer, at my desk. And I’m very disciplined (or compulsive).  


Favorite author(s)?
I have so many favorites:  John Irving, Louis de Bernières, Amy Tan, John Updike, Edward Rutherford, Pat Conroy, to name a few.


How many books have you written, so far? Do you plan to write more?
I’ve written three and published two: Dangerous Lies and Exceeding Expectations – both receiving amazing reviews. Paradise Misplaced will be out Sept. 1, 2012. And there’s a fourth in progress. I can’t foresee stopping.    


Would you like to share a link where we can purchase your books?
I’d be delighted.  Depending on your device or personal choice go to  
Buy Exceeding Expectations on Amazon or
Buy Exceeding Expectations on Barnes & Noble

What about a link to your website?
Thank you for asking. Your fans and followers can learn more about me and my books at http://www.LisaAprilSmith.com and thank you for inviting me to stop by.  

My pleasure! I wish you the best of success! 

Here's Lisa's first chapter of Exceeding Expectations.

Chapter One of  

Exceeding Expectations

January 2, 1962
       Glancing down at the Porsche’s speedometer Jack eased up on the gas. The nearest car was a mile back, but a cop could be hiding around the next bend. Being stopped by the police did not fit into Jack’s plan. He blamed the excitement. And guilt. Composing the single page to his daughters had been agony. There was no nice way to say he intended to kill himself. There were no comforting euphemisms for suicide. No words to excuse a mortal sin. And worst of all, no way to ease the pain his beloved girls would experience. But they, and everyone else, had to believe his intention was absolute and irreversible or the plan would fail. After several miserable gut-wrenching attempts, Jack wrote how much he loved them and said that this was something he had to do to protect them.  
       Knowing he could rely on Petal’s steely strength, Jack’s letter to his wife was more direct. He had explained that he was doing this to save her and his girls from scandal and disgrace. And as he was making this noble sacrifice, he knew she could be relied on to be good to his daughters. Petal might not be the maternal sort, but no one could accuse her of being tight-fisted. After reading the letter, his dying declaration, and waiting for two Chivas Regal’s straight to take effect, she would call a few select members of her powerful family, and her attorney. The results of those calls would be a discreet obituary in The New York Times, another in the local paper, hinting at a long-term debilitating disease, and no further investigation. A quiet memorial service would be held in Manhattan, Petal’s preferred place of residence, and she would be stunning in black for the next six to ten weeks, depending on her social calendar.
       The best thing about his plan was its simplicity. He would wait until two or three in the morning when the roads would be deserted, park the car on the middle of a bridge and disappear into the night. The bridge and town had been carefully selected – less than a five-mile walk to the railroad to prevent someone later recalling giving a lift to a stranger. And the town had to be small – an insignificant speck on the map. The smaller the town, Jack had reasoned, the less sophisticated the police force. Fielding, Florida, a town that lacked a drug store, supermarket, bank, and beauty parlor was ideal. Serious crime in Fielding probably consisted of intimidating the kids who tipped over outhouses on Halloween and jailing the same town drunk every Friday night. A costly abandoned car, coupled with the later discovered suicide notes, guaranteed Jack would be the topic of intense gossip for years, and the object of a bumbling investigation for no more than a week. The Porsche would get more attention than the lack of a corpse in an area where alligators outnumbered house pets, and a Ford with all four fenders intact was considered a damned fine automobile.
      Once he boarded a train he’d be fine. Men who rode the rails kept secrets. They were members of a tribe of vagabonds who preferred the town around the next curve – adventurous men ready to share a pot of tramp stew with another kindred spirit. And he was eager to join them. For the last two and half decades, his life had revolved around his girls. Jack had chosen that life and never once regretted it. A man couldn’t have finer daughters than Amelia and Charlotte. But they were grown now and maybe he had earned himself a change. He thought he might head for Texas, a leviathan-sized state where a man’s past was not apt to be questioned. And Texas was known for its horses. He loved horses — riding them, watching them trot, canter, toss their heads, nurse their foals. Gorgeous, glorious creatures they were.
        After several hours of driving through towns too small to boast a stop sign, Jack reached his destination. A weather-beaten building with a concave roof housed the grocery that doubled as Fielding’s post office. He gave his letters to a leathery man behind the counter and gazed at a jar of pickles with interest. He had been so focused on reaching his destination he had forgotten to eat lunch. “Is there a place around here to get something to eat?” “Just Wiley’s. Kind of a bar/restaurant down the street. Lost its sign in the last hurricane, but you’ll find it.”   
      An orange neon light in the window erratically flickered Budweiser. Jack glanced inside. It was more bar than restaurant, and grimy. Lacking an alternative, he entered. A wall of vacant knotty-pine booths faced a long bar backed by a mirror so streaked with fly droppings and smoke, that reflected images appeared cloudy. Five or six patrons turned to note his presence and then quickly resumed what they had been doing. Jack proceeded to the bar’s last booth and took a seat where he could oversee the comings and goings. The gym bag containing twenty-seven thousand dollars he stowed under the table.  
      A blowsy overweight waitress with an elaborate hairdo and a too-tight skirt approached. “Need a menu?” she asked as she wiped the table with a dingy towel.
      “What time do you stop serving food?”
      “The kitchen closes at eight.”
      Jack removed his buck suede jacket and placed it on the seat beside him. Assuming this place closed at midnight, he had five long hours to kill. “Bring me a draft beer and a hamburger. And if you could spare a newspaper, I’d appreciate it.”
      She soon returned with his beer and a ten-page weekly tabloid filled with notices of church events, and feed and grain ads. It was a typical weekday night in a small town bar: plenty of griping and boasting, lengthy recitations of what could have been and should have been, a few stale jokes, more men than women, a lot of talk, little action.
      “Would you turn up the radio?” a customer called from the far end of the bar. “That’s me and Wanda’s favorite song.”
      The bartender adjusted the dial. A twangy melancholy western tune drowned out the dull background noise.     
      “Turn it down! Turn that blasted thing down!” several customers shouted in unison.  
      The bartender found an agreeable level of volume and conversation resumed. It started to rain about nine — a light drizzle at first and then a steady hard-driving downpour. On her return trip from the ladies room, a woman in her late thirties, attractive in a tired way, paused to inquire if Jack would be in town for a while. He politely explained that he was just passing through and she rejoined her companions at the bar.  
      “That would be eighty cents, including the beer. Would you mind settling up now?” the waitress asked at nine-thirty. “I’m leaving in a few minutes. Buddy, that’s the bartender, he’ll take care of you. I’m going home to my kids.” Jack handed her a dollar and told her to keep the change. At ten o’clock Jack went to the men’s room and ducked into a stall. Removing the bills from the gym bag Jack distributed them around the money belt. Twenty-seven thousand dollars. Money painstakingly gleaned from his checking account in amounts that wouldn’t later arouse suspicion. It wouldn’t finance the way of life he had been enjoying very long, but it could buy ten new Chevrolets. More than enough for a fresh start.
      Customers, who had been checking their watches and shaking their heads for the last hour or more, decided the rain was not going to let up. One by one, they finished their beers, turned up their collars, cursed the weather and dashed into the street.  
      “Last call,” the owner announced to Jack and two stragglers. “Closing at eleven cause of this miserable weather.”  
      “No more for me. I gotta go to work tomorrow,” the older of the two remaining men announced. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and paid his tab. Jack closed his eyes and listened to rain pounding the wood roof. The last customer drank his beer and stared out the front window at the unrelenting downpour. He was about Jack’s size and weight, somewhere in his twenties – a kid. His light brown hair was home-cut and in need of a trim. His pants were deeply creased and stained with what Jack guessed to be grease. A handyman, or maybe a mechanic who worked nearby.
      Jack grabbed the empty gym bag, handed a dollar bill to the bartender, and headed for the door. The kid blocked the exit.
      “My truck’s about a mile or so down the road. It weren’t raining when I started out. I’d be grateful, mister, if you could give me a ride,” the kid said.
      Jack appraised the kid grinning back at him. Crooked teeth vied with one another for space, and his tired green eyes spoke of a resilience born of hardship. The faded denim shirt he wore over a grimy T-shirt would provide no protection from the cold and rain. Jack looked at the bartender owner hoping for some indication that this kid was a local, but the bartender was busy counting the day’s receipts. “You having any trouble with that truck?” Jack tapped his chest. “This old ticker of mine doesn’t work as good as it used to,” he lied. “If you need a hand with that truck, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to help.”
       “I got no trouble with the truck. Runs dandy,” he assured Jack. “I left it at a farmhouse to be unloaded. Sold them folks a cord of firewood. But they had to unload and stack it theirselves. That was the deal. They unload it and stack it theirselves whilst I go into town.”
      Jack weighed the risk. He had twenty-seven thousand dollars in the money belt, but this kid didn’t know that. All he knew was that it was pouring, it was cold and he needed a ride. Eleven o’clock was far too early for Jack to carry out his plan. All that awaited him was two or three hours of boredom in a parked car. “What’s your name, kid?”  
      “Folks mostly call me Iowa.”
      “My name’s Jack and the Porsche across the street is mine. Wait here. No sense both of us getting soaked.” By the time Jack reached the car and jumped in, his hair and clothes were drenched. Mostly Iowa had fared little better. “Which direction?” Jack asked his passenger.  
      “You’re headin’ the right way. Just follow the road a piece. I’ll tell you where to turn.”
      “Is it on the left or the right?”
      “Left.”
      “I expect you live around here.”
      “Just passin’ through.”
      They soon left the residential part of town. The driving rain and incessant flip-flop flip-flop of the windshield wipers blurred his vision. Jack tried the high beams and quickly switched back. Pointing to a dim light on what appeared to be a house he asked, “It that it?”
      “Nope. That ain’t it. It’s up yonder a bit.”
      “When I first saw you, Iowa, I said to myself, now there’s a fellow who knows his way around cars. You a mechanic?”
      “I fiddled with cars some. Nothing as swanky as this.”   
      For the next two or three miles there wasn’t a break in the road — not a path, planted field, farmhouse or shed, only endless sawgrass and pine trees. “That had to be some hike into town. Are you sure we didn’t pass it? You did say it was on the left?”
      “Yep. On the left.”
      While Jack had been struggling to locate the elusive house and truck, Mostly Iowa had been facing right. Damn! What an idiot he had been! A solitary man wearing expensive clothes and a flashy gold watch. A new Porsche – obviously his. A mysterious gym bag that had never left his side. A transient loner who needed a ride.  “We must have passed it. I’m going to turn around.”  
      “Just pull over here!” Mostly Iowa’s eyes were cold. His right hand expertly cradled a knife.
      Targeted like a deer by a hungry kid. Stalked! Jack’s foot remained on the accelerator. “You don’t want to do this, Iowa. How about I slow down to ten, fifteen miles an hour and you jump out? We part friends and forget this ever happened.”
      “You stop this here car or I’ll stick you like a pig. It wouldn’t bother me none to kill you.”
      Now Jack was a man who liked a good laugh as much as the next guy, but irony had its place. Dying the very night he scheduled his fake suicide was not his idea of a joke.  Iowa grabbed Jack’s right arm. “Stop this car or I’ll cut out your gizzard and leave it for the birds.”  
      “I’m not stopping the car as long as you got that knife,” Jack said in a calm friendly voice. He could feel the frightening tip of the steel blade through his suede jacket. “Toss it out the window and I’ll stop the car.”
      Iowa grabbed the steering wheel. The Porsche hydroplaned and fish-tailed, barely avoiding trees on both sides of the road.
      By intuitively releasing his grip, the finely engineered racing car realigned itself. Jack glanced at his passenger looking for some hint of humanity, still hoping to change the kid’s mind, yet very much aware of the danger. “You’re going to get us both killed. We’re doing twenty miles an hour. The ground is soft from the rain. Open the door and roll out.”
      “Not a chance in hell, you miserable fuck. You’re going to die.”
      The knife slashed the jacket and dug into the money belt. If it weren’t for the thick wad of bills, the blade would be boring into his rib cage. Jack deliberately swerved the car right and then left. Iowa grabbed the wheel. Using the butt of his right fist Jack smashed his attacker’s hand. Iowa howled with pain and dropped the knife. He alternated curses with punches aimed at Jack’s head.
      Jack fought to simultaneously keep the car on the road with his left hand and ward off his attacker with his right. A pothole caught Iowa off balance. He slid away. Jack used the opportunity to use the bent right arm that had been guarding his chest and lash out, landing an explosive blow with his clenched fist. He could feel the bridge of Iowa’s nose collapse, hear the bones crack.
      “Goddamn you! You jackass. You busted my nose!” Iowa fumbled beneath the seat.
      Seeing the dreaded knife reappear, Jack made the only decision left. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He braced himself and floored the Porsche, aiming the passenger side at a massive oak tree. Iowa reached for the wheel again, too late. The car hit the tree with a violent jolt, throwing both men forward. A branch smashed the windshield a microsecond before Jack’s head reached it. The glass shattered harmlessly, but his chest had struck the steering wheel with an impact that left him gasping for air. The motor groaned and sputtered as Jack waited with his eyes closed. His chest ached with every breath. Tentatively touching his forehead he discovered a swelling throbbing bump. Jack opened his eyes. Mostly Iowa had not fared as well. He lay slumped against the door. Blood from the broken nose bathed his face, neck, and shirt. Jack didn’t know if he was dead or unconscious, but he wouldn’t be a threat for a while.
      “Why didn’t you jump when you had the chance?” Jack asked the limp figure. “Soon as I find out what kind of shape I’m in, I’ll figure out what I’m going to do with you. If I can walk back to town, I’ll send someone out to help. And that’s better than you deserve, you dumb bastard, considering you were trying to kill me.”
      Limb by limb, joint by joint, Jack tested his extremities. His arms, hands, and fingers moved, painfully, but they didn’t appear to be broken. He flexed one leg and then the other. “My legs seem okay,” he informed his silent companion. His chest and shoulders ached. “Probably cracked a few ribs and there’s a buzzing in my ears. Going to be sore for a while, as well as black and blue, but I’m alive. What about it, Iowa? You going to make it?”
      Jack leaned across the inert body expecting to hear a heartbeat. Nothing. Silence. The kid was dead! Jesus Christ! He hadn’t intended to kill the kid. His goal had been to prevent his own imminent demise.
      “Now look what you did, Iowa. You tried to kill me and you ended up killing yourself. God damn dumb kid!” he said to keep his teeth from chattering. “God damn dumb kid!” His entire right side throbbed and he was trembling. “Got to get out of here.”
      He tried the door handle. It turned, but the bowed door would not budge. He threw all his weight against it and grimaced. It groaned in sympathy and swung open causing him to crash onto the muddy ground. The rain had subsided to a trickle. Jack wiped his hands on soggy moss and sat down to think beside the demolished car.
      There was nothing more that could be done for Iowa. His problems were over. Jack’s problems had tripled. In a day or two, Petal and the girls would read the letters he had mailed. A first-class plan wiped out because he wanted to help out a dumb kid. Okay, he told himself, if faking his suicide by leaving the Porsche on a bridge was no longer possible, he simply needed a new plan. A new plan. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. The Porsche would be traced to him. They would find a dead kid in his car. If he disappeared now he would be accused of murder. Unless . . . Unless  . . . Iowa was about his size. The police would assume the body belonged to Jack Morgan if – if it was unrecognizable. But how? The car and its contents would have to be burnt beyond recognition. He could do that. Provided he kept calm, and no one came along in the interim, it was a good alternative plan.    
      Jack removed the ruined suede jacket. It could go on the corpse. A scrap of burnt suede would add to the illusion, as would his wedding band. He had intended to sell it before he reached Texas, but it would be better used now. As he removed the ring he noticed his prized gold watch. They might look for it. It was too bad about the watch, but it too had to go.  
      The tight quarters inside the crumpled Porsche, coupled with Jack’s reluctance to touch the bloody corpse made the exchange time consuming, exhausting, and grisly. As a final touch, Jack traded shoes with the dead man before shoving him into position behind the wheel.  
      An hour had passed since the crash and no one had driven by. His luck was holding. Now he needed matches. Matches or a cigarette lighter. His pockets yielded neither. His plan would fail because he lacked a pack of matches that every bar and restaurant supplied free. Think, he told himself. There had to be a solution. The Porsche’s cigarette lighter. Would it still work? Leaning over Iowa’s body, Jack located it and pressed it. Thirty seconds later it popped out glowing red. God bless the Germans! Every twenty or thirty years, it took a war to remind them who was boss, but they sure knew how to build a car. Jack looked for something to start the fire. Downed branches were too wet. A dry rag. He kept a towel in the trunk.
      Jack walked to the rear of the car to unlock the trunk but it wouldn’t release. He kicked it with his heel. Another sharp kick. The trunk creaked open. A white, still-folded hand towel lay tucked in a corner. A few more minutes and it would be over.
      He stuffed as much of the towel as would fit into the gas tank, then replaced the ignition key. As he was about to press the cigarette lighter he remembered the knife. What if it were found with the remains? Palm beach socialite Jack Morgan didn’t carry a switchblade. He would have to find it. Ten minutes passed as he searched the car and the corpse. He was about to give up when he felt it lodged under the passenger seat. He folded it, tucked it into his belt, and inserted the dependable lighter.  
      Half a football field away Jack leaned against a tree and waited. Several times the flame appeared to die, only to flare up again. And then the rag ignited with an enormous pop – followed by ear-splitting thunder. Roaring flames, the height of a church steeple leapt from the car’s rear. Jack could no longer make out Iowa’s silhouette in the flames. Just a few more minutes, he told himself. The smoke and heat from the blaze reddened his face and seared his lungs. When it was time to leave Jack strode away in Iowa’s ill-fitting shoes, away from the wrecked Porsche, the town of Fielding, and his past. Then he heard it. A train whistle. The magical hollow sound of a train whistle. And it wasn’t far off. Damn, if he wasn’t a lucky so-and-so. One of God’s favorite children. Jesus tolerated the pious, sober, and abstinent. Yes, He tolerated the tiresome righteous and their smug unforgiving Christian smiles. And He had little pity for the tyrant, the merciless, and the cruel. But Jesus loved the ordinary sinner. Isn’t that what the bible taught? The Almighty loved sinners. Without sinners there would have been no reason for Jesus to come to earth and experience the joy and pain of mortals.    
      Intoxicating freedom mingled with the chilling air. Jack could forget the chafing money belt, cheap ill-fitting shoes, sore feet, and aching muscles. He had a new name and a thousand new possibilities. The next time he found himself with a drink in his hand he would remember Iowa and raise his glass to the tragic dumb kid.  
      “This one’s for you, Iowa, you miserable misguided creature,” he would say. “May the good Lord take mercy on your soul and your time in Purgatory be brief.”

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